#abbacchio

The first meeting was kind of awkward. You stood there in the safe house living room, hands clasped in front of you and trying to look put together even though your heart was hammering. Bucciarati sat at the head of the table, looking you up and down before giving Abbacchio a look that he didn’t give back. The rest of the team wasn’t there, but you knew you would meet them later. 

“Just be yourself, okay?” Giorno had whispered to you right before. 

You swallowed hard and when Bucciarati asked why you wanted to join, you answered honestly without thinking too much. “I do not want to be alone anymore and I need to learn how to stand on my own. If I can be useful to you guys while I figure myself out, that would mean everything to me.”

Abbacchio snorted. “We’re not a rehab center, kid.”

You blinked, then said without filter, “I am not a kid, I am sixteen. I’m not asking for handouts, I’ll work, clean, run errands, whatever. Just give me a chance.”

Giorno stepped in smoothly, he explained your situation without making you sound pathetic and reminded them how every single one of them had once needed a second chance too. Bucciarati listened carefully and by the end, he gave a small nod. 

“Alright. We’ll give you a trial period, but you are under Giorno’s watch for now.”

You couldn’t help the big smile that broke across your face. “Thank you! I will not let you down.”

Narancia was the easiest, after you met the rest of them he dragged you out to get a slice of pizza with him chattering nonstop about his favorite song and that time Bucciarati almost killed him after he kind of burned the kitchen. You laughed so hard at his reenactment that you had to hold your stomach and he looked proud every time he managed to make you giggle. 

“You’re so fun,” he declared, laughing at your face even though you don’t have anything really fun to say. “The others are too serious sometimes! Abbacchio is going to hate you but that’s his own problem, don’t pay attention to him.”

You listened to Narancia because after some meetings, the eye rolls and scoffs of Abbacchio every time you tried to add something were getting unbearable for you. You talked to Giorno but he just shrugged his shoulders, telling you how Abbacchio has been a bitch since the moment he met him and there’s nothing he can do. 

Still, you could not just let it slide forever. So after the latest meeting wrapped up, when everyone started to stretch and grab their things, you took a deep breath and walked straight over to Abbacchio who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed tight.

You stopped in front of him, hands fidgeting a little at your sides but your voice steady. “Abbacchio, can I talk to you for a second?” He raised an eyebrow but did not walk away. The rest of the team slowed down, suddenly very interested in whatever was about to happen. “If you have some problem with me, I would really prefer you just tell me to my face. The eye rolling and scoffing every time I open my mouth… I don’t really like it. If I am doing something wrong, say it. I want to learn and get better, not guess what I did to annoy you.”

The whole room went quiet, each member with a different facial expression but you only looked at Giorno, who gave you a small from the side.

Abbacchio stared at you for a long moment. His purple eyes narrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. You could tell he was searching for something sharp to throw back at you, something about how you were too soft, too clueless or maybe too much of a burden. “Stupid kid.”

You blinked. “I’m not a kid. But okay.”

That was it. He pushed off the wall and walked past you without another word, his coat swishing behind him. The silence broke the second he left the room. Narancia burst out laughing and practically jumped on your back. “Holy shit! I can’t believe you said that to him!”

Mista whistled low. “Most people just avoid him when he gets like that.”

You let out a shaky breath, your cheeks warm from all the sudden attention. Part of you felt proud for speaking up, the other part was scared you had just made things worse. Giorno came over, the look in his pretty eyes making your nerves settle a little.

“You did good,” he said quietly, just for you. “He did not have anything real to throw at you. That means more than you think.”

Later that night, Giorno knocked on your room like usual, a little tradition between you two of talking right before going to sleep by the window. He knocks three times on your door and brings a little notebook with him where he marks another day on the ‘Days being sober list’. 

In these past weeks you’ve talked a lot, revealing fragments of your life that only made Giorno want to get closer to you. How it was your first time having a room all to yourself, how the headaches have stopped and the nightmare you had the other day. You love feeling listened to, you lose yourself in Giorno's eyes, hearing his voice humming every once in a while or adding little comments to keep you talking. 

“I’m proud of you,” he said quietly after you finished telling him about the nightmare. His pretty eyes were locked on yours, gold and green catching the moonlight. “Not many people can admit they were lost and then actually try to find their way again.”

Your heart did that annoying fluttery thing again. God, it was so stupid! He had this whole gang and big dreams and here you were, developing a dumb little crush like some lovesick teenager. You did not know what to do with it, every time he looked at you too long you forgot what you were saying and when his hand brushed yours when he passed you something during the day? Your skin tingled for hours after.

You looked away, staring out at the lights of Naples so he would not notice how warm your face was getting. “Thanks, Giorno. I-I don’t think I would have made it this far without you. Not just the sober thing but the feeling like I belong somewhere. You gave me that.”

He shifted a little closer on the windowsill. “You belong here. I knew it the night I found you, and the others are starting to see it too.”

You swallowed hard, part of you wanted to tell him how your stomach flipped when he knocked on your door every night. How you replayed his voice in your head when you could not sleep. But the words got stuck. What if he laughed? What if he saw you as just the broken girl he saved and nothing more?

So instead you bumped your shoulder lightly against his. “You are pretty good at this whole ‘giving people second chances’ thing, you know that?”

Giorno chuckled softly. “When it’s worth it.”

You stayed like that for a while, shoulders touching, talking about small things until your eyelids got heavy. When he finally stood up to leave, he hesitated at the door.

“Sleep well,” he said, glancing back at you. “If the nightmares come back, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, heart racing as he closed the door behind him. Alone again, you pressed your hands to your warm cheeks and let out a long breath. It’s so dumb! But you could not take it anymore. The butterflies had turned into a full swarm that kept you up half the night and every time Giorno smiled at you during breakfast the next morning your brain went completely blank. You needed advice. Real advice from someone who actually knew Giorno and would not tease you about it for the rest of your life.

So after lunch, when most of the guys had scattered, you found Bucciarati alone in the small office space going over some papers. You knocked softly on the open door, twisting your fingers together.

“Bucciarati? Can I... talk to you about something? It’s kind of personal.”

He looked up before he nodded and set his pen down. “Of course. Close the door if you want.”

You did, then sat across from him, heart already racing. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding stupid but... I think I have a crush on Giorno. Every night we talk in our room and I get so nervous and my stomach does that stupid thing, I hate that stupid thing. I need to tell someone before I explode.”

Bucciarati listened without interrupting, his expression staying gentle the whole time. When you finally ran out of words he leaned back a little in his chair and gave you a small, knowing smile.

“Oh, I know.”

Your stomach dropped. “Huh?”

“It’s pretty obvious,” he said, kindly. “You look at him differently than the rest and you get quieter when he’s talking. Even Narancia has noticed and that boy is not exactly the most observant.”

You felt your face burn hot. “Oh my God.”

“And Giorno probably knows too,” Bucciarati added, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “He’s very perceptive. Especially when it comes to you.”

Terror hit you like a truck. Your hands flew up to cover your mouth as your eyes went wide. “HUH? Bucciarati, please tell me you are joking. I am going to die. What if he thinks I am weird? Or pathetic? He has been so nice to me and now he probably feels sorry for me or something—”

You were rambling, voice getting higher with every word, Bucciarati raised a hand gently to stop you.

“Breathe, kid. He doesn’t seem bothered by it. If anything, he’s been paying more attention to you lately. Giorno is careful with people he cares about. If he didn’t want your attention, you would know.”

You slumped back in the chair, face still burning. “I’m so embarrassed. I came here for advice on how to hide it better and instead I find out the whole team probably knows I am crushing hard on Gio.”

Bucciarati chuckled quietly. “Not the whole team, Abbacchio is too busy to notice much. But my point is, you don’t have to hide it forever if you don’t want to. You’re still finding your place here, let things happen naturally.”

You nodded slowly, trying to calm your racing heart. It was terrifying knowing Giorno might already see right through you, but there was a tiny spark of hope under all the panic. Maybe it was not completely one-sided.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, standing up on shaky legs. “I think I needed to hear that. Even if it made me want to crawl under the bed for the rest of the day.”

Bucciarati gave you one last reassuring look. “You are doing well here. Don’t overthink everything. And if you need to talk again, my door is always open.”

You slipped out of the office feeling like your face was still on fire. Narancia waved at you from the hallway, completely clueless, while you tried to act normal. Somewhere in the house you could hear Giorno’s voice talking to Mista and just the sound made your stomach flip again.

It took you two whole weeks to build up the courage. Two weeks of overthinking every conversation, every late-night talk by the window, every time Giorno looked at you a second longer than usual. You practiced the words in your head a hundred times, but they always sounded stupid or too forward or just plain embarrassing.

One night, exactly one month after you joined the team, Giorno knocked on your door three times like always. When you opened it, he was standing there with the softest smile you had ever seen. In his hands was a small cupcake with one little candle stuck in the middle, the flame flickering gently.

“One month sober,” he said proudly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “I thought we should celebrate it properly. Just you and me.”

Your face heated up right away. It was such a small thing, a single cupcake with a wobbly candle, but the fact that he remembered and went out to get it for you made your chest feel too tight. “Oh my god, you didn’t have to do this, it’s so embarrassing!” you mumbled, sitting on the edge of your bed while he set the cupcake on the windowsill.

He shook his head. “No, it’s not. You’ve worked hard for this, now make a wish before the candle melts.”

You blew it out quickly, too shy to say the wish out loud even though it was obviously about him. Giorno clapped softly like it was the most important celebration in the world, then broke the cupcake in half and handed you the bigger piece. You both ate in comfortable silence for a minute, the sweetness sitting warm on your tongue.

Your heart was pounding so hard you thought he might hear it. This was it. If you didn’t say it now, you might never find the courage again.

“I like you.”

It takes Giorno one second to swallow and answer you. 

“Oh, I like you too.”

You both stay in silence, finishing the bites of the cupcake before saying something again. “Are you sure?” you tell him, tilting your head to look at him. 

He didn’t ask you what you mean by that, he just met your gaze and nodded. “Very sure, actually. I’ve liked you for a while now.”

“Oh shit.”

Your mind was going too fast for you to think about anything else to say, Giorno smiled, huffing a little laugh and lowering his gaze because of his own blush. “We don’t have to do anything right now, but I think you need to know that your feelings aren’t one-sided.”

You both sat there a little longer, shoulders touching, letting the new truth settle between you. Eventually Giorno stood up, brushing a few crumbs from his purple suit.

“I should let you sleep,” he said softly.

You got up too and walked with him to your door, heart hammering the whole way. When he reached for the handle, something inside you just decided. You grabbed his hand, pulling him back gently before he could step out. Giorno turned, surprised and in that second you leaned in and gave him the quickest peck on the lips.

It was barely a second. Soft, nervous and over before you could even think about it. His lips were warmer than you expected, and when you pulled back your face was burning. You let go of his hand fast. “Sorry, I just, um, I really wanted to do that. Goodnight.”

Giorno stood there frozen for a moment, eyes blinking because he needed a second to process. Then a shy smile spread across his face, a faint pink dusted his cheeks too.

“Goodnight,” he answered, voice quieter than usual. He touched his lips for half a second, checking if that really just happened, then gave you one last soft look. “Sweet dreams.”

He slipped out the door and closed it gently behind him. The second he was gone you backed up until your legs hit the bed and dropped down, burying your face in your hands.

You fucking kissed him.

Your stomach was doing flips and your lips were still tingling. It was the quickest peck in the world, but it felt huge. You flopped backward onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling with the biggest grin you could not wipe off.

Part of you was terrified you had gone too far too fast. The other part was replaying the way he smiled right after, that little blush on his face. He did not pull away. He did not look uncomfortable. If anything, he looked happy.

You rolled over and hugged your pillow tight, giggling into it like a total idiot. One month sober and now this. Life was getting sweeter than that stupid cupcake and you could not wait to see what tomorrow felt like.

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