Technically, you were a part of the gang. You had passed the test, acquired a stand of your own; but Bruno rarely sent you on missions. Your stand was powerful and incredibly useful under the right circumstances. But the gang seemed to care for you in such a way... the would never endanger your life more than necessary. You wanted to head out into the fray, you wanted to help. And in a way, you did help.
You were there when they came home at the end of the day. When they had been injured, physically or emotionally, you would heal their wounds. You tried to maintain a cheery disposition, though it was hard at times; it was hard not to feel a bit trapped. But you smiled each time you saw their faces. Silly Mista and his Sex Pistols bickering, mischievous Narancia and Fugo, always chasing each other around, Bruno and his newest protégé Giorno Giovanna. And then there was Abbacchio.
He had always been quite a mystery to you: the tall dark man with the eternal scowl... But sometimes, just sometimes, another emotion would cross his face. It was always sudden. Sometimes he would return from a mission injured, demanding you treat him first. Sometimes he would completely refuse your treatment assuring you that the gaping hole in his arm was just a scratch. He rarely smiled, except at the pain on others. But, once, you did see genuine happiness on his face. It was just a small joke you had made, an extremely stupid pun. The corners of his lips had turned up, just slightly, and a small sigh escaped his lips. It was a laugh if ever you had heard a sincere laugh coming from him. That was probably when you realised just how much you cared for him, how much you wanted him to be happy, how much you wanted to make him happy.
But even if you tried to give him extra attention, to treat him well, he'd frown and ignore you. You'd often try to strike up a conversation when you found him alone, and sometimes, it worked. This was one such occasion.
He was sitting out at the table on the balcony ledge, staring into the night sky, a glass of wine in his hand. He had just returned from a dangerous mission, not severely injured, but hurt enough so that Bruno would not allow him back out in the field. Therefore, he was the only one back at headquarters.
You were a bit hesitant to approach him at first, as it was quite possible he was in a bad mood and wanted to be left alone. But you gathered your courage and strode out onto the balcony, occupying seat beside him. It's possible he didn't even notice you as he drained his glass. Then, you paused, realising what lay on the table. Four wine bottles, one thankfully unopened, but you gasped at him as he reached to pour the very last drops of the third into his cup. Your intervention was abrupt as you pulled the fourth bottle out of his reach.
"Abbacchio, stop! What are you doing?" You demanded him incredulously. He was known to drink a bottle of wine at a time, but this was too much. He was weak in his wounded state, and you didn't want him hurting himself even more. But he sighed, and rolled his eyes.
"Shut up, (y/n), I'm not a child. Give it back. He whined, his arm lazily reaching for the bottle. But you held it far away from his fumbling hand. His eyes drooped, and he let out what almost sounded like a cackle. Your blood froze. Abbacchio had always insisted he could hold his liquor, but right now, his actions seemed... "Why do you hate me, (y/n)?" his speech was slurred as he pouted
"Abbacchio," you stuttered, "I don't–"
"Why do you all hate me? Why are you all so much better than me? My stand is useless in a fight... That's why Bruno replaced me with that little brat, isn't it?" Abbacchio stood up from his chair, stumbling only slightly. That was when you saw your chance. Still holding the unopened bottle out of his reach, you wrapped his arm around your shoulder, ushering him inside. He continued his drunken lament. "All I wanted was to be a faithful soldier, to use my powers for good... But it's useless," he paused, noticing your face next to his. Your cheeks flushed as the close contact, and you left him standing there in order to close and lock up the balcony door. But you heard his garbled speech continue behind you.
"How do you do it, (y/n)? How do you always have a smile on your face? I come back and I'm angry and injured, and you just..." He slowly walked up to you, and you gasped as he clumsily placed his hand on your cheek. He stared into your eyes, as if he were mesmerised, and you felt faint. "Just seeing your smile makes me feel better," he let out a groan and collapsed on the couch. You scurried and sat down next to him, unsure as to how you could help, but unwilling to leave him alone.
"I don't deserve you. You're an angel, and I could never deserve you," he drawled slumping back into the cushions. You remained, sitting, tense and shocked. You felt uncomfortable, not knowing whether each word he uttered was truth or alcohol induced fantasy. Maybe you should keep him from speaking any further, put him to bed or something–
"Why do I love you?" Your eyes darted at him. He was pouting as he stared back at you. At this point, your emotions were too much. You heard your heart pounding in your ears as your face flushed. You knew it couldn't be a real confession, he was barely sober enough to stand. But the very thought that he might have feelings for you made you feel like you just had to get out of there before something... happened.
"Abbacchio, m-maybe you should go to sleep," He slumped over onto you and you fell on the couch. You gasped as he almost crushed you with his weight. His head rested right on top of your chest, and your heart began to pound rapidly. Though, you had to admit, you quite enjoyed the feeling...
"Okay," He sleepily muttered the affirmation. You became even more flustered, and tried, to no avail, to squirm from underneath his body.
"Abbacchio, please don't fall asleep on top of me" You chuckled nervously. But he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled his face into your bosom as you squeaked.
"Okay. Good night, (y/n)." You had given up. He wouldn't budge and you couldn't get out from under him. He gave one final, soft whisper: "I love you."
Almost immediately, he fell asleep. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest against yours. You slowly felt yourself beginning to relax, to appreciate the warmth and comfort of his embrace. Looking down at him, you noticed his long eyelashes fluttering in his sleep, and a faint smile came to your lips. Your fingers began to fiddle with his hair, and you stroked his head lovingly as he lay there. He was so beautiful in his sleep, so perfect. You had no idea what was going on, and what would happen when he awoke, but softly, gently, you pressed your lips to his forehead. Then, you drifted off to sleep.
You felt the squirming body on top of you. Immediately, you shot your eyes open, remembering what had occurred the night prior. You stared at his fidgeting figure with dread, as he slowly opened his eyes. For a second, he seemed confused. Like he had just woken up in a strange place he had never seen before. You flushed as he pulled his head out of the comfort of your chest, turning to look at you. The expression on your face could only be categorised as fear: fear he would blame you for last night, fear he would terminate your friendship entirely...
His eyes flashed open in recognition, and he scrambled off of you, falling onto the floor. You saw his face flush in embarrassment as he tumbled. Then, he leapt to his feet and stormed out of the room. You lay there in shocked silence, not knowing exactly what to do...
Several hours had passed. He had not emerged from his room, not even to eat. So, you prepared him a tray. You weren't the best cook, but you tried your hardest to prepare his favorite: ruchetta salad.
You took a deep breath as you walked to his door, knowing you would have to confront him as some point, and this was probably the best time. You knocked.
"Go away," you felt your heart sink at these words, but you knocked again, despite your uncertainty. You heard a loud sigh.
"Abbacchio, if you don't open this door, I am not afraid to blast a hole in the wall so I can get through to you." You really hadn't meant to sound that intimidating, but it seemed to work, as you heard his footsteps approach. The door opened just a sliver, and you could barely make out Abbacchio's shadowed face in the dim room. He glanced down at the food.
"You need to eat." you stated firmly. "And we need to talk."
In a flash, he grabbed the tray from your hands and slammed the door. However, you stuck your foot in just before the door could close shut. You strode into the room, confidently, but, seeing his eyes flash with anger as he set the tray down, you began to feel your heart race.
And yet, Abbacchio did nothing more. He stood, solemnly as you approached him, looking down at you with disdain, as usual. You were fed up with it: how he hid his emotions underneath a cold exterior, how he buried his fear and his sadness deep inside him. You just wanted him to be happy. But you didn't know what to say...
"Just tell me," those were the words that came out of your mouth. "Tell me, was that the truth?" A blush came to his cheeks, and he clenched his fists. But he didn't move. You had to make the move. You had to do something.
You tightly gripped his collar, pulling him down to your level. He was too stunned to respond as you brought your lips to his. You heard his small gasp, and felt his body twitch as you made contact. He was stiff, however, and your eyes slowly fluttered open, sensing that something was wrong. He stared back at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. As you quickly pulled away, your stomach clenched. It was rejection. You were sure. His rigidity. His sullenness.
Muttering an apology, you turned on your heel, somewhat surprised that you hadn't yet burst into tears. You probably would as soon as you stepped out of the room.
"(Y/n)" You felt a cold hand touch your shoulder, and froze in your tracks. "D-Do you really..." He let out a small shudder, and you slowly turned to face him. His gaze remained on the floor, but your spirits suddenly perked up. You were so hopeful, wringing your hand together in anticipation of what he was going to say. "Do you love–"
"Yes!" Your shout cut him off mid sentence, and he looked up in surprise. You were almost bouncing up and down in your agitation. "Abbacchio just say something!" You pleaded. He didn't say anything.
He abruptly grabbed your waist and pulled you into a kiss. You wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him towards you with force, stifling your moan as his torso pressed to your breast. You weaved your fingers into his long hair, as if his lips would never be close enough to yours. His head tilted as he kissed you firmly, hands still heatedly pushing your pelvis into his. You faintly felt his tongue slip across your lips.
Suddenly, he pushed you into the closed door, and you gasped as the hard wood hit your back. He attacked your neck, biting and sucking as your hands trailed down to his broad shoulders. His knee thrust in between you thighs and you shivered, still not really believing this was actually happening. Your face grew heated, your heart fluttering, as he licked down your collarbone. You shuddered and arched your back, feeling his lips against your skin. His kisses trailed down as far as your shirt would let him reach. You felt his hands reach down your hips, and you gasped as he grabbed your ass.
But he pulled away abruptly, and an involuntary whine escaped your lips. His expression was shocked.
"No, I can't. I'm sorry, I shouldn't do this to you..." He turned away, as your heart sank: he had never apologised before. You didn't want him to feel like that. "It was the truth," He mumbled, then paused as he ran his hand through his hair "I don't deserve you. You're too good for me. I'm sullen and selfish, and–"
You couldn't stand by.
"Abbacchio, I love you," You approached him from behind, hugging his waist and snuggling your face into his back. You felt his hands wrap around yours. "And you are selfish," He stiffened. But you turned him around so you could look into his eyes, placing your hand gently on his red cheek. "You're selfish because you're not considering my feelings, Abbacchio. I want this. I want you." You wanted him to understand, to be happy for once, to feel pleasure.
"Kiss me. Please."