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lady-wallace · 6 months

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Whumptober Day 16 - "I'll Follow You Down" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

I have to write at least one angsty GioTrish fic every Whumptober, so here it is.

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Prompts Used: Flatline, 'Don't go where I can't follow' Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Character: Giorno

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Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

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Trish took a taxi straight from the airport to the hospital, small carry-on bag and all. All it had taken was the sound of Mista's voice over the phone for her to get on the first flight out of Milan and head back home.

She flew through the doors to the emergency room, finding Mista sitting there, one arm in a sling, bloodstains on his coat.

"Mista!" Trish cried as she saw him.

"Trish," he stood, hurrying toward her and holding her close with his good arm. "You got here fast."

"I took the first flight out as soon as you called," she said. "Is there any news?"

Mista shook his head, and slumped back into the chair, Trish taking the one next to him. "He's still in surgery. They…they haven't updated me. I guess no news is good news but…god."

"What happened, Mista?" Trish asked, trying to keep her panic down at the moment.

Mista ran his hand over his face. He looked awful, exhausted—he didn't even have his hat on. "We've been having trouble with this rogue group of Stand users. A couple weeks ago, they hit one of our places and took out a bunch of our men. Giorno, you know how he gets, he wasn't going to stop until he had taken them down. And he didn't. He kept going and going until he tracked every one of them down and took them out. I did what I could, Trish, I did, but he would just leave in the night when I passed out from exhaustion. He just…gets so driven about this kind of thing."

"I know," Trish replied.

"If one of the other men out on patrol hadn't tipped me off, I never would have known and I—god." He pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Trish looped her arm through his and squeezed before he continued. "Fugo and I got there in the thick of a fight. We fought through the goons and got to Giorno and that was when all hell broke loose. Our plan was to get Giorno out of there and let Fugo go nuclear with Purple Haze, but the guy's Stand basically had a mirror effect. I tried to shoot him but the bullet got me instead. And then he was right behind me, and Giorno…Giorno shoved me out of the way and…" He swore, squeezing his eyes shut. "Bastard punched a hole right through him. Like—you could see the…you know, never mind. But it was bad. Really bad. So bad Gold Experience doesn't seem to be around right now so…"

Trish covered her mouth with a hand but before she could ask any questions, there was some kind of alarm and doctors began running down the hall. Mista and Trish were on their feet at once, following to see what was going on, fearing the worst.

A doctor stopped them before they could get to the room all the others disappeared into.

"You can't be back here."

"At least tell us what's going on!" Mista demanded. "Is it Giorno Giovanna?"

"Yes, he flatlined as soon as we got him into recovery after surgery," the doctor said seriously. "His injuries were extreme to say the least. And we are not very optimistic. I'm sorry."

"What the hell does that mean?" Mista demanded. "He can't die! Don't you know who he is?"

The sounds from inside the room became less frantic and the blaring of alarms slowed, giving Trish back just a little of her breath. The doctor looked over his shoulder.

"Let us in there," Mista snapped.

"I can't do that."

"You can and you will," Mista growled. "I'm his freaking bodyguard, and this is his fiancé."

The word caught Trish off guard more than she could have imagined. It hurt, deep down, the flavor of daisy chain promise rings and chocolate flavored kisses; of drunken confessions and soft blond hair wet with tears that glinted in the moonlight. A lie that was so false and bitter where it should not have been.

Because of moments just like this.

She barely noticed as the doctor moved aside with a baleful look and Mista ushered her in.

Giorno lay in the bed, white as the sheets, doctors fussing over him, adjusting wires, checking his vitals. Trish could hardly be comforted by the steady beeping of the heartrate monitor because Giorno certainly looked dead, another machine even breathing for him at the moment.

"Giorno," Trish breathed and left Mista's side, instantly rushing to the bed, grasping one limp hand in hers as she pressed her other to his cheek.

"Miss, you can't…"

"Work around her," Mista snapped.

But Trish was already pulling away. "No, I'm sorry, please."

She returned to Mista's side and he held her as they watched the doctors finish up before one came over to them.

"Well?" Mista asked.

"He suffered extreme internal damage, and we're going to have to put him into surgery again in a couple of days. But I will warn you, in the condition he's in now, there's no guarantee he'll survive that long. It will take a miracle for even a partial recovery."

Trish and Mista were silent as the doctor left. A couple nurses continued making Giorno comfortable before they left as well.

Mista sagged and ran a hand over his face. "We have a miracle waiting, he just…needs to make it long enough for Gold Experience to manifest again."

Trish silently left his side and pulled a couple chairs over to the side of the bed.

"He will," she said, but with little conviction. "He'll live, Mista."

The gunman's wan smile betrayed his own worries about that. Because they both knew just how bad off Giorno was. How often he threw himself into danger as if he didn't care whether he lived or died—only that a job got done.

Were they enough to bring Giorno back from the edge? Or had he finally stepped too far, with no hope of being pulled back?

"Are you okay here?" Mista asked hesitantly. "I need to call Fugo. He's still…cleaning up everything."

"Of course," Trish replied then, "Mista, you should go home and get a shower, sleep if you need to. I'll be fine here, and…I call you if anything happens."

He pressed his lips into a thin line but the sag in his body told Trish just how exhausted he was. "I'll grab a quick shower, but I can't sleep right now."

Trish nodded in understanding and squeezed Mista's hand before he left.

The gunman stopped at the door though and turned back. "Trish? Talk to him," he said sincerely. "You might be the only one who can get through to him."

Trish was silent, a lump in her throat keeping her from speaking. Alone, she reached for Giorno's limp hand, wrapping her fingers around his. She reached out with her other to stroke the lank, blond curls from his face. A face weary and worn beyond his years, dark patches under his eyes giving his face a hollow, deathly look.

"Why do you have to do this to yourself, Giorno?" she whispered, voice breaking before she swallowed it down, shaking with anger and fear and a million other emotions. "Don't you see what this is doing to everyone around you? Don't you know what it's doing to me?"

There was, of course no reply, but she continued. "Don't you remember when you promised that someday we would be together? Well, that someday never came, Giorno, and it never will if you keep doing this kind of shit." She ground her teeth together. "I love you. And I'm never going to stop loving you just because you push me away. I will always be here waiting, waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and say you love me back. Say it when you're not drunk and you're not—not dying." Her breath hitched and she ducked her head until her forehead rested on his knuckles. "Because I'm going to keep coming for you whether you like it or not, so don't…" Two tears rolled down her cheeks and wet his hand. "Don't go where I can't follow, Giorno. Just don't."

She started sobbing silently, clutching his hand. But Giorno remained silent, clinging to life, the machines breathing for him, and Trish wasn't sure how much longer she could be strong.

XXX

Trish left the room briefly to grab a coffee and it felt like all hell broke loose as she came back. The heartrate monitor started blaring the second she got into the room, alarms going off, and her heart dropped to her feet, as she rushed over to grab Giorno's hands again.

"Giorno! No, don't do this!" she demanded, pleaded, as the doctors rushed into the room and practically pulled her away.

Trish stumbled into the corner, watching as they pulled Giorno's hospital gown open, preparing the paddles to shock his heart back to beating.

"Clear!"

Trish watched in agony as Giorno's body arched off the bed briefly, but the monitor continued to blare in one steady beep.

"No pulse," one nurse called obviously.

Trish couldn't do this anymore. This wasn't happening.

"Gold Experience," she called, voice hidden in the chaos. "Requiem. If you can hear me, show yourself."

To her surprise the Stand materialized beside her, eyes trained on its user.

"Do something," Trish demanded, eyes wet.

"I am weak right now," the Stand said, speaking in an odd, flat version of Giorno's voice. "But I can save him."

"Then do it," Trish hissed. "He's dying!"

"Yes, and so am I," Requiem said simply, tiredly. "I cannot heal him alone, I will need your help but you have to understand something."

"Anything, just save him," Trish whispered hoarsely.

The Stand stared at her with its uncanny eyes. "I will have to borrow part of your soul in order to be strong enough to heal him. It will bind the two of you irrevocably—even I do not know what that will entail."

"But it will save him?" Trish asked.

The Stand nodded.

"Then do it," Trish said firmly.

Requiem disappeared and reappeared hovering over Giorno, the doctors oblivious as they worked to bring him back.

"Take his hand, Trish," the Stand commanded.

Trish didn't hesitate, she rushed to the bed, pushing through the doctors who cried out in warning, reaching out to stop her. Trish ignored them and stretched, latching onto Giorno's hand.

Energy surged through her and Giorno both, a burst of golden light that threw her backwards, the ring finger on her left hand burning.

"Miss, please stay out of the way, you—"

The constant blare of the monitor stopped and continued in normal paced beeps, the doctors regrouped, shocked as they looked Giorno over again.

"He—he's completely stable!" one of the nurses cried in surprise.

"Heartrate, sinus rhythm—all completely normal."

"What the hell?"

Trish looked down at her finger and saw a small golden band wrapped around it like a ring. Her hand shook, dizzy, but she didn't have time to think of that because Giorno suddenly gasped, choking on the tube in his throat.

XXX

Trish sat once again at Giorno's bedside, staring at his hand clasped in hers, two identical bands on their ring fingers. Trish remembered the promise ring Giorno had made her a long time ago, crafted from tiny daisies, a sweet blush on his face as he had Gold place it around her finger; a promise that someday they could have the life they wanted.

But maybe that was a foolish wish spoken by children who didn't yet understand the hardships that the life they led could bring. Who didn't realize what the weight of loss could do, when it kept coming and coming, constant reminders of fallen comrades, and only more names added to the list of victims.

But Trish had grown beyond that happy ending fantasy. She had grown up, and so had Giorno, and perhaps she should have been more clear to him that she didn't mind the blood and the dirty deeds. The danger, and the long nights. As long as she could be the one to wash the blood away, as long as he would come back to her bed when his work was done and she could hold him while he slept, there was nothing more she wanted.

But perhaps now she had tied them together closer than that. She didn't feel any different, but there was an undeniable bond to Giorno now, her own heartrate synced up to his.

A twitch of fingers before his hand finally curled around hers in turn.

"Giorno?" she asked, heartrate picking up as she looked up quickly, seeing his eyes flutter open.

"Trish," he whispered, eyes pools of earnest green. "I should have told you this a long time ago."

Trish couldn't speak as he reached up, cupping the back of her head to pull her close, pressing their lips together. Trish melted against him, twining their fingers together, the two golden bands pressing against each other.

Giorno pulled away and pressed his lips to her ear. "I love you."

#whumptober2023 #no.16 #flatline #don't go where i can't follow #jojo's bizarre adventure #fanfic #hospitals #soul bonds #love confessions #giorno giovanna #trish una #guido mista #giotrish #jjba part 5 #post canon #gold experience requiem #vento aureo

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lyliumwrites · 1 year

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This is kind of a prompt based on his beautiful drawing by loryn-art. I couldn't help it, it radiates so much fluff and happiness that I had to write about the scene!! I hope you don't mind @loryn-art <3

Flower Boy ( Hugo & Lucas & Amicia )

The sudden warm breeze that flew by was playing with the plucked flowers in Hugo’s hand, nearly causing them to fly off. He reflexively pressed them to his chest, but his eyes were torn open upon realizing he crushed them while doing so. Disappointment adorned his soft features when he saw the delicate petals resting loosely on his palms now. As sad as it was to him, they were of no use anymore, though it did not discourage him—he would make the flower crown nonetheless! Hugo let the petals drop to the lush ground, watching how they mingled so well with the prospering flowers under his very nose. His smile was returning in no time.

When he let his gaze roam about, he realized that Lucas was still reading under the tree not too far from him. Hugo wondered what could be so fascinating about the book he had been carrying with him all day. Was he studying again, on such a bright day, even though they all could use the break to have fun? He did not want to disturb him, though something in him excited his curiosity.

Hugo jogged towards Lucas then, with a mood so cheerful that it could have been contagious. He could not wait to tell him about the surprise he was planning for Amicia. Perhaps Lucas would even help him? All these uplifting thoughts distracted him—they almost made him trip up on a branch on the way. There was no lending hand that could pick him up, and even though he was shocked for a mere second, he had to chuckle at his own lack of attention. He could already hear his sister’s caring words in his head that told him to be more careful next time.

The wide smile spread across his face faltered, not because his joy was gone, but rather upon his own surprise that swept over him upon the sight in front of him. Lucas was not reading. He appeared to doze under the calm tree, embraced by the warm shadows. Oh, he should let him rest. He could share his ideas with him later still; they were not worth waking him. Like all of them, Lucas must be rather exhausted from the long journey.

Hugo smiled gently at his dear friend before his attention wandered to the wildflowers blossoming beside him. He plucked a daisy and carefully placed it upon the green fabric covering Lucas’ shoulder. Hugo could not stop smiling. He found himself captivated by the flowery touch. Another daisy was plucked to grace Lucas’ cloak, but it did not stop there. A yellow wildflower was tucked in his soft hair as well.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Hugo saw how his sister was approaching them. Hugo pressed his finger on his lips in an instant, a gesture that was more than clear to Amicia. Then, he beckoned her over, offering a flower.

“What are you doing?” Amicia inquired quietly while accepting the flower. Hugo may have been playful, but the sight was so tranquil that she could not help but feel relaxed once in a while. Her gentle smile spoke volumes. It was rare to see him so carefree.

Hugo’s focus did not break despite the question. He was still quite concentrated to place more flowers into Lucas’ hair. “He’ll be a flower boy!” He tried to whisper, though the excitement was hard to swallow. “It’s pretty, don’t you think?”

“It truly is,” Amicia returned in a whisper, her hand reaching out to put the offered flower in Lucas’ hair. There were so many, and yet more followed little by little, until a blossom landed on his resting face. Amicia tried to remove it, though something must have disturbed Lucas’ peace.

His eyes slowly opened.

Hugo dropped everything. “Oh no, Amicia!” he complained playfully before he stood and grabbed at his sister’s hand. “Quick! Lucas the Perfidious is waking up!”

The siblings were unable to contain a peel of laughter as they ran off, the airy merriment a tremendous boon for the apprentice. It all happened so quickly that Lucas had no idea what was happening. Flowers then fell off his cloak when he moved, his expression adorned with surprise as he caught a few of them with his hands. Oh, these two! A small chuckle escaped him, and a smile brighter than the sun danced across his lips when he watched them run away so blithely.

For a moment, Lucas wished those happy times could last forever.

#I've said it before and I'll say it again #these kids kill me #just something small to soothe the soul #lucas the apprentice #hugo de rune #amicia de rune #a plague tale #a plague tale requiem #apt #apt fic #plague tale #fanfiction #my writing

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