Title: "Help"
Pairing: not specified
Type: angst? possibly?
Word Count: 2303
~
"We could get arrested for this," you whisper, looking around with caution.
The boy crouching next to you laughs, "We could get arrested for a lot of things, Y/n. This isn't the first time we've done something like this."
"I've never done anything like this before!" You whisper-yell.
He shakes his head, "That was before you lived on the streets. You're gonna have to learn how to make do."
"You mean break the law."
"Yup, now c'mon."
The plan is simple.
You distract the wealthy-looking tourist so that B/n can snatch his wallet. Then, you'd split the money sixty-forty because he's doing the most dangerous work.
Easy, right?
You run out from your hiding spot, crocodile tears in your wide e/c eyes. "Please sir! Help, I'm lost-"
As you blabber semi-incoherently, B/n sneaks up and attempts to take the wallet from his back pocket.
Unfortunately, the man is quick and spins around to grip B/n's arm tightly. B/n cries out as the man pulls out his phone and dials the police.
Terrified, you stand frozen until you snap out of your daze.
"Run, Y/n!"
You don't need to be told twice.
You ran and never looked back even when you heard the sirens.
And that was how you ended up alone.
B/n was your only friend, helping you navigate life on the streets of Italy.
Without him, you were lost.
|||||
It's been years since that day and you never saw B/n again. Life wasn't kind to you either, throwing all sorts of curves at you.
The latest being sickness.
You've dealt with illness before, thankfully nothing too severe, so you know how to handle yourself. You stock up on non-perishable foods and hide away in the small area under a bridge that you call home.
You consider yourself lucky.
Even after all these years living alone without a house or a support system, you haven't had to resort to anything too drastic.
Sure, you steal, but you never steal from anyone who seems to have it rough. And you definitely never hurt anyone unless it's in self-defense.
You're seventeen now, still not considered an adult in the eyes of society even though you've been reliant on only yourself for years now.
Shaking with fever, you wrap your dirty old blanket around yourself, feeling hot and cold all at once. Awhile ago, you had thrown up in the bushes, abhorring the terrible feeling of your meals coming back up.
Now, you stay still, hoping that this will all get better soon.
|||||
The members of Bucciarati's team walk across a bridge.
It's nighttime and they just finished up a mission for the Boss so now they're walking home.
"Why didn't we just get a car," Narancia complains.
Abbacchio nods in agreement, "He has a point."
"Because we need the exercise," Bucciarati states. "Besides, we need to see if there are anymore threats. Narancia, use [Aerosmith] to scope the area."
The boy in question nods, calling out his Stand. "Hey, someone's underneath the bridge!"
Everyone tenses.
"Is it an enemy?"
"Their breathing is shallow, I think they might be sick or something."
"Let's go check it out," Bruno says, following Naracia's lead.
They cautiously make their way down towards the person. What they find is not what they expected.
A girl, around seventeen years of age, lies surrounded by a ratty blanket. Her face is pale from sickness and her breathing is ragged. She stirs in her sleep, clearly in pain.
"Is she alright?" Fugo asks, his heart aching at the sight. It reminds him of when he found Narancia.
Giorno kneels beside her, "She needs a doctor."
Narancia stands still, blinking. A wave of deja vu washes over him, "She's like me."
Even Abbacchio seems fazed, "We need to help her."
"Let's get her to a hospital!" Mista agrees, his Pistols shouting their understanding.
|||||
You open your eyes slowly, flinching when you come face to face with a boy your age. Sitting up, you shuffle backwards on the soft bouncy surface.
A bed?
It's been so long since you've been on a bed...
Wait, why are you on a bed?!
"What-" you mumble, still groggy from sleep. You feel a hell of a lot better now though, so that means the sickness finally broke.
The boy panics, "Don't move! You shouldn't exert yourself!"
"Who are you?" You stare at him.
"I'm Narancia, you're in the hospital," he explains. "I wish the others would get back already..."
"Others?"
"Uh-huh, we found you under a bridge. You were close to death!"
Someone thwacks Narancia across his head, "Don't exaggerate!"
You look past the whining boy to find a man in a hole-y green suit, a man with lavender hair, a man in a polka-dotted white suit, a blond man with interesting hair, and a man with a hat.
This must be a fever dream, because boy are they attractive.
"Hello, miss. I am Bruno Bucciarati, this is Pannacotta Fugo, Leone Abbachio, Giorno Giovanna, Guido Mista, and Narancia Ghirga."
He introduces them, pointing to each member in turn.
You dip your head in acknowledgement.
"And your name?" He asks in a kindly manner.
"Y/n L/n," you reply with some hesitance. After all, you don't know these strange men.
He smiles, "I'm glad you're alright, Y/n."
Why would he be glad?
"I can't pay you back for this," you state the obvious.
"I don't expect you to. Are you hungry?"
You nod, "But I can get my own food. Thank you for everything, but I'd better go."
"Wait, we're not going to hurt you. We just want to help," he insists, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes.
But you've trusted people before, and it got you nowhere.
Standing to you feet, albeit a bit unsteadily, you shove past them, "I don't need anyone's help."
They watch you leave, saddened by your denial of their offer.
"She's stubborn," Abbacchio comments.
"We cannot give her help if she does not want it."
"That's bull! She-"
"You heard me."
|||||
That strange encounter stuck with you for the following months.
Why would they help a stranger? Nonetheless, a stranger like you?
It simply doesn't make sense to you. They didn't gain anything in return for their efforts.
Sighing, you rest your forehead against the cool brick wall, savoring the peace and quiet.
Until someone disturbs it.
"Hey, pretty lady," an older male slurs.
Frowning, you turn away from the wall and look at him with a pitying gaze. Poor bastard has obviously been drinking away his problems.
Undeterred by your icy expression, he approaches.
"Leave me alone, sir," you warn him, not wanting to have to fight or flee at the moment.
"I'll show you a good time-"
A sound to your immediate right alerts you to a new presence. A man with short black hair, who you recognize right away as Bucciarati, seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
"She told you to leave," he restates, his voice firm.
The drunk recognizes him, "S-sorry, Bucciarati! I didn't know she was with you!"
"That shouldn't matter," Bucciarati claims, staring him down. "When someone tells you to leave them alone, you should respect that."
"Y-yes, sir! I'll remember that!"
"Good," Bruno watches the man turn tail and practically run away before turning to you.
You keep your expression neutral, "I was handling it."
"I know, but you didn't see to want to deal with it today," he smiles.
His smile suits him, you decide. It shows how good-natured and compassionate he seems to be.
"Thanks," you finally say, wrapping your arms around yourself. "That was nice of you."
"It was my pleasure. Are you hungry?"
You don't want to admit it, but you haven't eaten all day. Shaking your head, you go to walk away from him.
"Please, I expect nothing in return," he says.
You stop, thinking over his offer. "That's what they always say, and every single time there are always strings attached."
"Not with me. I swear."
His eyes hold such earnestness and honesty that is hard to ignore.
Sighing, you nod, "Food would be nice..."
His smile returns, "Excellent. I know a great restaurant not far from here."
"I'm not getting in a car with you," you say, back on the defensive.
He chuckles, "Of course. I suggest we walk, it's not too far."
With a curt nod, you follow him, still cautious.
You have the feeling he is a gangster, as a lot of people you run into tend to be. But, he seems different than most. His friends also seemed nice, for the most part.
As you walk beside him, he strikes a conversation. You tell him what you're comfortable revealing and he answers any questions you have.
You discover he is in fact a capo working in the organization called 'Passione'. You've heard of it many times before.
By the time you reach the restaurant, you feel comfortable in his presence. He emits a certain aura of calm composure that is hard to find distrustful.
He opens the door for you.
The building is nice, not too fancy, which is a fact you're thankful for. After all, you're not exactly a sight for sore eyes at the moment.
Your clothes a a size too big and filthy. Let's not even mention the state of your rundown shoes. You managed to sneak into someone's house yesterday to take a shower, so at least you have that going for you.
Definitely intimidated, you shy behind Bruno as he walks to the table occupied by the rest of his gang. You recognize them all as the ones from the hospital.
"Y/n, take a seat," Bruno invites.
The men look at you, most with welcoming smiles, except for the lavender-haired one.
Unfortunately, the only seats available are beside Abbacchio and Fugo. From what Bruno has told you, Abbacchio isn't exactly open to newcomers and Fugo has severe anger issues.
Noticing your hesitation, the seemingly grumpy one pulls out the chair closest to him and rolls his eyes, "Hurry up, you're taking forever."
You obey, seating yourself, "Thanks."
"Tch," he crosses his arms.
Bruno sits beside you, "What would you like to eat?"
"We can eat now?!" Narancia cheers with excitement.
Fugo smacks him, "Don't interrupt."
"Uh, f/f?"
"Good choice," Giorno says.
The waitress comes over and takes everyone's order.
"So, Y/n, what made you decide to take his offer this time?" Mista asks, leaning forward.
You shrug, wishing there was less attention on you, "It seemed too good to be true at first."
Narancia nods, "I kinda felt like that at first too! Bucciarati took me in off the streets a few years ago and really helped me."
"Really?"
"He's helped all of us," Abbacchio consents.
Everyone looks at him with admiration and respect as he smiles gently at the praise.
The food arrives, the sweet aroma making your mouth water.
You wait for everyone else to start eating, not wanting to be rude. Digging in, you savor the deliciousness. It's been a long time since you've has a meal like this.
As you eat, you realize what you've been missing. A wave of sadness washes through you.
You wish you could have something like this, a group of close friends to belong to.
Bruno notices your change of mood, resting his hand on your shoulder to bring you out of your thoughts.
"Y/n, if you want, there's a spare room at our house. You can stay as long as you need," he offers. "We can help you get back on your feet."
Too good to be true.
You can't help the feelings of unease from sprouting within you.
These men are still strangers.
How can you trust them?
You smile, "Thank you, truly, but I can't accept. I'm already in your debt."
"There is no debt."
"I can't accept," you repeat, a bit more harshly. You really want to accept his generosity but a part of you too stubborn.
I don't deserve their kindness.
Now, a silence hangs in the air, heavy and foreboding. You can't handle their gazes anymore, jolting out of your seat as tears prick at your eyes, "I can't!"
They watch you run out, not daring to chase after you.
"That went well."
|||||
Weeks have gone by, and you can't stop thinking about his offer.
Even if it was a trap of some kind, it would be better than this.
Currently, you're trapped in a dead end alley, facing two men. One has a knife and both have expressions of maliciousness.
Cursing your entire existence, you try to run past them.
You know it's a lost cause by now. There's no way you're escaping unscathed.
You're at least taking one down with you.
Before they can grab ahold of you, you kick the one with the knife right in his groin. He shouts and bends over. You throw a wild punch at the other one before running again.
They give chase.
Ankle restrained in a rough hand, you fall to the damp ground, kicking viciously.
You can't get free.
Tears pour from your eyes as a sharp point is jabbed into your shoulder. Your screams are cut short as a grimy hand is placed over your mouth. You try to bite him but can't a grip.
You continue struggling as you feel your pants being tugged down.
Without an explanation, the heavy presences of the snickering men are removed from you.
Instinctively, you curl into a ball, shaking and crying. Your shoulder burns with hot pain as liquid seeps from the wound there.
"Are you alright?"
You barely recognize Bruno's voice, scrambling away from the men that saved you, "Please don't, please, please-"
"Shh, it's alright, Y/n. We won't hurt you," Giorno says softly.
You can't stop shuddering and mumbling protests, even as Bruno and Abbacchio help you stand.
"We'll help you."
|||||
After that experience, you accepted Bruno's offer of living in their spare room.
And that was how you joined Bucciarati's team of compassionate gangsters.