You're sixteen

Quickly placing a kiss on Mama Bruno's cheek, you left for a date. This was your-...10th? (M/f/n) was so sweet! You couldn't help but swoon at the mere though of him kissing your cheek. That was something to be kept secret between the two of you. Thankfully, he never went any further than a kiss on the cheek, but still. If Abbacchio found out (M/f/n) had been putting his mouth on you...shivers. Only shivers.

Your thoughts entertained you until you reached the park. Bathed in splendid sunlight added such ambience to the autumn-bitten trees. You found him sitting patiently by himself with two carry out boxes of divine steaming pasta. (M/f/n) waved to you and patted next to him on the park bench with a cute smile on his face. 

"Missed you!" You eagerly sat down and placed a kiss on his cheek. He turned his head slightly away with something like guilt on his pasta sauce stained face. He wiped the dollops of thick green away and tried to find the right words.

"(Y/n)...listen, I...you know I care for you a lot, right?" (M/f/n) tucked some loose strands of hair back behind your ear.

"Uh huh?" You suspiciously stuffed pasta into your starved of flavor mouth. He seemed distant. His legs crossed, his hands wiping sweat onto his pants, the way his eyes looked at you. Dissatisfied. Disappointment. Dull.

"I just feel like this isn't...I don't feel...I think we should break up," It finally seeped into your mind. All feeling was lost for you. You were a tool for him to feel love, and you were broken. He was tossing you away like the corpse of a shrew. 

"No, I get it...you're breaking up with me because you're bored with me," You forced those poisonous words out through your lips and stood up, your boxed pasta in hand. 

"That's not it-,"

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that," You spat. He looked you in the eyes, opened his mouth, but no words came out. He averted your hurt gaze, and mumbled.

"I'm sorry..." 

Your heart and been stabbed and drained of all love and emotion. You turned your back and reached into your pocket. Your fingers wrapped around the Colt M1911A1 pistol Mista had gotten you for Christmas when you were ten. Locked and loaded baby. Put a bullet through that son of a gun's head...just like your father had taught you. You flipped the safety off. Second thoughts...

"I hope you find someone who can satisfy you, (M/f/n)...also your taste in pasta sucks. Find a place that can actually cook, bastardo." You took the pasta from the box and sprinkled it sauce and all onto his new jeans. "Get pastaed," you turned your back and hurried out of the park. Your heart was hurting bad.

I...I need Uncle PolPol cuddles...or an avacado-bang! The gun's safety was still off.

"M-maledetto Mista!" It was shock at first, but You realized what had just occurred as you watched your leg spill red onto the floor. Make that two avocados... Your hand rushed to clasp your leg and was coated in the thick stuff through your stained pants. You could muster so much as a limp and tried to hurry home, every step hurting worse than the previous. Half way there. Fortunately, remaining unseen wasn't a challenge thanks to Creed and the shadows. You set sight on the mansion and its gates. Grass fields with happy green and the sparkling waters that laid right next to it. Your leg gave out on you, your head spinning like a record player. So easy to sprawl out and rest your weary head. I think...I'll just rest here for a moment...or...for a while. I dunno... The thought of closing your eyes made you internally grin, but then an important lesson Fugo had taught you reminded you that closing your eyes was stupid. Then a brilliant idea struck you like lightening. You opened your mouth wide, inhaled, and let it out.

Abbacchio exited Giorno's quarters, Trish and Mista by his side. Stupid Giorno and his stupid missions and his stupid frog. Why didn't he ever do anything himself...though, that stack of papers on his desk and the circles under his eyes did tell Leone that he wasn't being lazy. That agitating spaghetti noodle...

Suddenly, that ringing cry for help was heard. Without hesitation, Abbacchio was bolting as fast as his legs could carry him in the direction of his baby girl's screams. He caught sight of your body dead in movement, face in the grass. 

"(Y/N)!" Leone smoothly slid down by your side. Your head turned to him and you smiled.

"Hi dad," you said clearly with vertigo. "Did you know the giant horse co-," Abbacchio slipped a finger over your lips and shook his head, fear in his eyes. He slid his arms under you and picked your exhausted body up, ignoring your muffled screeches that were silenced by your pride and dignity. 

"I swear if that little cock sucker hurt you..." Abbacchio kept mumbling his sadistic thoughts as he set you down on the couch. He left the room without a word, either to do one of two things. One, fetch tired Giorno to heal your leg (which you still haven't looked at), or two, find your ex-lover (even though Abbacchio has no idea he dumped you), and do unspeakable things to him. 

Then the feelings seeped in. What had you done wrong? You apparently weren't good enough. You curled your available leg up by your chest and rested your forehead against it. I mean, all you ever did was love him, right? And maybe put pasta on his pants...but that was afterwards!

Tears crept into your eyes at the wrong time. Giorno entered the room, concerned as ever. Abbacchio had that killer look in his eyes. The kind that made it look like his mind was glitching between fury and concern. A blurred line between the two.

"Oh miele...What this time?" He sighed and kneeled down.

"Accidentally shot myself. I haven't looked yet..." 

"Look me in the eyes and tell me that's all that happened." He took your hand gently in his own. You now understood what it was like to be stuck. Unable to lie, but not wanting to tell the truth either. A sudden pang of guilt washed over you for putting (M/f/n) in that situation, but then you remembered, he was a jerk. 

"That's all that happened," it took all that you had to contain the leaking sadness in your throat. Giorno kept his gaze locked with yours.

"Abbacchio, you have my permission." An excited smirk replaced his frown and he left the room in a hurry. 

"H-hold on! What's he going to do?!" You eagerly sat up. 

"Oh? So you're concerned. Why?" A sly grin. An irritating one.

"You cunning bastard...fine. He dumped me cause I'm 'boring'," sorrow grabbed the last of your words and your face was hidden behind your leg once more. Giorno put his focus on your leg as you vented a bit to him. He rolled up the leg of your pants causing the blood to flow once more. Thankfully you weren't paying too much attention since you were too busy crying . The bullet had shot right through the flesh of your thigh and grazed your calf down to the ankle. Giorno took a ladybug pendant from his outfit and placed it on the wound. Soon enough, the wound was gone, the pain, remaining. Your tears were spent by the end. You sniffled and apologized multiple times for the breakdown. Giorno just smiled and handed you an avocado. You gasped and took it with joy. A hug followed.

"Thanks Giorno," you sniffled and buried your face into his chest. 

"Of course," he put a caring and gentle hand on your head. "Though...promise me you'll stop doing this kind of thing? You get hurt way too often.

"I promise." It could barely be heard since Giorno's chest skin muffled it.

 "Would you like to help me walk Kermit?"

"Y-yeah!" You ran to go get the frog leash. Giorno stood there, golden pride in his heart. He'd have to toughen you up if you were to be a gangster. His gangstar. The thought of you taking his place one day brought up something like...joy.

After the frog walk with Giorno and Kermit, you decided to help Trish decorate Diavolo's face with s e x y makeup. It was almost overwhelming with how hot that man was. Watermelon hair and all. Mista had entered the room to ask where he could get a paperclip and a banana, but at the sight of Diavolo, he got a bloody nose. Any guy or gal would fall for him with one mere glance. How did Trish convince him to let her do his makeup? Pure bribery. All it took was one little secret.

The sound of the gate shutting brought your attention to the figure who reentered the premises. It looked like he had bathed in a pool of blood. Abbacchio had a fear striking and malicious smirk plastered on his face. He wiped sticky substance from his face and had a taste. Delicious.

"What did you do!?" You half-smiled.

"I had some fun with that boyfriend of yours." Abbacchio opened his bloody arms and embraced you. "Don't worry, sweetheart. He won't be bothering you anymore." Abbacchio tittered like a madman and went off to take a shower, or perhaps not. Who knew where he was going? He's Abbacchio.