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shion-yu · 3 months

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Ears Ringing

Cliff can't afford his meds and can't keep anything down anymore. My fill for my @badthingshappenbingo space "Ears Ringing." OC work, 2,816 words. TWs parental abuse, emeto, chronic illness whump, detailed hospital descriptions.

For years now. Cliff's neurological symptoms have been all over the place. Sometimes he's eloquent and polite, echoes of his former brilliance shining through. Other times he can't remember the names of simple objects or can't stop crying. Sometimes he walks fine, and then the next day he needs his wheelchair. It's inconsistent, frustratingly so, and Cliff can't stand it.

He's depressed. He knows he's depressed, but he can't do anything about it because he's already taking antidepressants and he's scared if he says anything they'll stick him in the psych ward. Phoenix always used to tell him he was crazy, and Cliff worries he is. He sees shadows in the corners of his eyes all the time and hears people in the apartment that aren't there. One time Elliot catches him with a knife in his hand in the middle of the night hunting for some unknown threat. It's bad, really bad. He's never hallucinated before but he is now nearly every day. It’s getting increasingly difficult for him to tell the difference between what’s real and what’s not.

Bothering other people with his problems is the last thing Cliff wants to do. Elliot's busy writing his album with Alex, Moira’s got her baby and Matt’s in law school. So Cliff's alone a lot of the time, which he doesn’t really mind but sometimes it’s easier for him to pretend everything is fine when he has someone else to pretend for. He dropped out of law school a year ago and he still hasn't figured out an alternative career path. He tutors people online to take the LSAT, which is enough to pay the rent on his tiny condemned apartment, but that's all. He can't take Elliot out and treat him because it seems his parents have washed their hands of him and he can barely keep up with the copays on all his medications. His parents haven't officially disowned him - yet - but when they found out he dropped out of law school they stopped sending him monthly support checks.

Cliff's started halving his pills to make them last longer, and the first to go completely are the antidepressants and anxiety meds. After that he cuts out the ones that he knows don't necessarily keep him alive, just feeling better: the antiemetics and pain medications. Eventually all the ones that were giving him any sort of quality of life are gone, but he's still sort of okay until he starts running out of his steroids: it's when he starts halving his prednisone that the hallucinations begin.

He's spending more days in bed feeling sick than not at this point. He doesn't leave the apartment and Elliot seems to be getting increasingly worried despite Cliff's best efforts to put on a good show. He's losing weight by the day and he's vomiting nearly everything he eats up. Elliot tries to coax food into him but it's not working. Even Cliff's favorite Japanese and Chinese comfort foods cause him misery, so it's certainly not a matter of taste. At least he saves money not having to buy groceries.

Cliff had promised Elliot that he'd never hide this stuff from him again back when they broke up. So he doesn't hide it and he never lies, but he tries to sound casual when he answers like it's not a big deal. If Elliot asks, Cliff admits that he's not feeling well, or that he's nauseous. Elliot starts keeping a journal of Cliff's intake and instances of vomiting, then realizes there's no way Cliff's actually retaining any nutrients. He makes Cliff an appointment with a GI specialist, but the wait is four months out. Elliot is worried Cliff can't wait that long and tries to convince Cliff to go to the emergency room, or at least tell his father and see if he'll order some tests, but Cliff refuses. He promised to communicate with Elliot, not anyone else. Lucky for Cliff, Elliot never seems to think to ask him about bills or voices that aren't there. And his dad is drinking again, so Cliff doesn’t bother talking to him.

It comes to a head when Elliot can't get a hold of Cliff. Their relationship is still young despite all of their history, it feels fragile, and Cliff isn't answering his phone. Elliot worries Cliff's withdrawing and doesn't really want to be in a relationship, but he can't bring himself to think that's true so easily. So he breaks into Cliff's apartment for answers and finds Cliff passed out on the bathroom floor soaked in piss and vomit. He doesn’t respond when Elliot shakes him and shouts his name, but at least he’s breathing. Elliot calls 911.

Cliff doesn't wake up on the ambulance ride to the hospital. Elliot's glad for that because he doesn't want how scared he feels to come out as anger. The scene is eerily familiar to how Elliot had found Cliff on the floor of their dorm room all those years ago, but Elliot tells himself it's not the same. He'll at least give Cliff the chance to explain why it isn't. Still, why hadn't Cliff told him how much he was struggling? He could have reached out and Elliot would have been over there to take care of him in a heartbeat.

"I didn't want you to worry," Cliff mumbled when he wakes up, before lurching forward and dry heaving into the emesis basin Elliot's holding. He has a high fever and Elliot thinks now's not the time to yell at him for being foolish. "I really thought I could manage," Cliff says through a single sob. Elliot's heart clenches in pity. Cliff's never known how to rely on other people thanks to his parents. Elliot wants Cliff to rely on him, but it's not something he can force.

The doctors come in and ask if Cliff's been taking his medications as prescribed, especially the steroids. Their expressions are almost accusatory and Elliot doesn't understand why until Cliff looks down, face clearly ashamed. "Cliff, why not? Do you want to die?" Elliot asks, aghast.

His heart breaks when he hears Cliff whisper in the tiniest voice, "I couldn't afford them anymore." Elliot's still upset and worried, but suddenly he understands. Cliff starts crying; Elliot holds him close and tells him it's going to be alright, that they'll figure it out. He'll help Cliff pay for his meds as much as he can. When Shu comes by with food for Elliot he offers to let Cliff live with him for a while, in Alex's old bedroom. There's options. But right now, Cliff needs to focus on getting better.

The doctors tell them that Cliff's body went into shock from stopping his prednisone too quickly. He's lucky he's not in a coma. Not only that, but the granulomas on his lungs have grown and he has new ones on his brain. Does he have headaches, they ask him? Fatigue? Hallucinations? Cliff can't bring himself to look up as he answers yes to all of them. Has he ever fainted? Had a seizure? Cliff looks at Elliot for just a second, chest burning with shame. "I think I had one before Elliot found me."

After the doctors leave, grim faced and what Cliff feels is painfully judgemental, Elliot rubs Cliff’s back as Cliff begins to gasp for air and tears stream down his face. Elliot knows Cliff’s having a panic attack and tries to get him through it. “It’s gonna be okay, Cliffy,” he says sadly. “Talk to me.”

“I never lied to you, I swear,” Cliff says. Elliot feels his own eyes fill with tears.

“I know, shh,” Elliot soothes. “I wish you would have told me, but I know you didn’t lie. You’re going to get better and this is never gonna happen again.” Cliff just cries harder until he vomits. Elliot helps him shower while the nurse changes the sheets; it’s not how he had imagined their first time showering together after getting back together might go, but he’d rather be here than Cliff be alone right now.

Cliff's woefully underweight. His nausea is so bad that he can’t keep any oral medications down, either. They force an NG tube into him, which is one of the worst things Elliot's ever witnessed. He has to stand in the hall after the first failed attempt because it's so disturbing. It looks more like torture than treatment. Eventually they get it in and start the tube feeding, but the response isn't what’s expected. They haven't even brought it up to goal rate when Cliff begins projectile vomiting the tube feed all over like the fucking exorcist. The vomit makes him choke and he coughs the NG up less than twenty-four hours after they managed to get it down. Elliot holds him while he sobs and apologizes over and over.

"I'm sorry," he cries, "I tried to keep it down, I really did." He's distraught and Elliot does his best to comfort Cliff, but he feels like there's so little he can do. He’s never seen Cliff cry this much and it’s breaking his heart.

As a result of the failed feeding tube, Cliff gets more tests and is diagnosed with gastroparesis: paralysis of the stomach. It could be temporary or it could be forever, they say. There's no way of knowing right now, but it explains why he hasn't been able to keep food down for a while. He needs a J-tube that will bypass his stomach to give him nutrition, and he gets that surgery two days later.

The pain is unbearable. It takes days to get it under control despite finding no issues with the actual J-tube placement. Some people are just very sensitive to surgical pain and Cliff is unlucky enough to be one of them. He's so beat down by then that he just lies in bed clutching a pillow to his abdomen and sobs openly. Nothing really comforts him and Elliot doesn't know what to do. This is scary and he feels like he can't handle it on his own. Milo and his mom give him some support, but it's weird when neither of them are fans of Cliff to begin with. Shu and Alex come by to give Elliot a break sometimes. They sit with Cliff while Elliot takes a much needed rest at home where he can shower and scream in frustration a few times.

It feels like whenever things start getting better for Cliff, some new aspect of his illness appears and they start over from the beginning. Elliot carries a certain level of regret that he wasn't there when Cliff was first diagnosed. Maybe if he was, he could have fought for Cliff to get diagnosed sooner. Maybe he could have protected Cliff from his father more. He tries to now, when Dr. Barrows comes not to help but to yell at Cliff for being so stupid as to stop taking his steroids. "Were you trying to kill yourself?" He snarls at Cliff, who shrinks back and can't answer. "Are you trying to humiliate me?"

"Maybe if you guys spent just a tiny bit of your fortune on keeping your own freaking son alive, he wouldn't have to ration out his meds," Elliot spits at him. He doesn't care that Cliff's father is a famous surgeon. He's left his only son to struggle all by himself because of circumstances Cliff can't control, and so to Elliot he's the shittiest quack out there.

"I don't remember Cliff ever asking us for help," Dr. Barrows points out coolly. Elliot can't argue with that. He doesn't know for sure, but it certainly wouldn’t surprise him if Cliff hadn't said anything to his parents. Even if they would have helped, who could blame Cliff when this was his dad? "And who the hell are you?"

"He's my boyfriend," Cliff says weakly. Something inside of Elliot is mended then. Cliff, who was once too scared to tell even a random passerby that they were together, is telling his father. Then, another piece of Elliot breaks when he watches Dr. Barrows cuff the side of Cliff's head with such force that Cliff's oxygen falls off.

Cliff yelps in pain and grips his ear in shock, ears ringing. Elliot's horrified and frozen. Who the hell hits their own son while they're in a hospital bed? The pungent smell of whiskey probably has something to do with it. "You are not my son," he hisses venomously, then leaves. His hatred lingers in the air just as strong as the smell of booze.

"Sorry," Cliff says after several seconds of awkward silence, breaking the spell.

Elliot shakes his head as he jolts back to reality and rushes to Cliff's side, looping Cliff's oxygen back over his ears. He hugs Cliff close, shaking with anger. "There's no reason to be sorry," he insists. "The only person who should be sorry is your dad for being such a shitty person." Cliff flinches at Elliot's strong reaction, but he knows it's not directed towards him.

“Yeah,” Cliff says uncomfortably. “I guess. Thanks.”

It takes two weeks, but eventually Cliff is discharged: into the care of Elliot and the home of Shu, because the social worker says it’s not a very safe idea for him to live alone. Cliff hates feeling like he requires a round the clock babysitter, but he knows they’re right. He can’t walk more than a few steps and that’s with a walker, he’s not steady enough to use his crutches right now. Cliff promises he’ll keep quiet and not cause any problems, but Shu tells him that he should make himself feel at home. It’s a small two bedroom and Shu can’t help much monetarily, but he promises a safe and comfortable place where there’s always enough food on the table (figuratively, since Cliff doesn’t eat anymore). It’s what he promised Alex when he adopted him, Shu says, and he can promise Cliff that too now.

No matter how much he dislikes needing the help, being in Shu’s home makes a world of difference. It’s warm and homey there and Cliff likes how he can see into the backyard from the kitchen table. There’s a bird feeder and a swingset back there, which Shu says was from the prior owner but he never removed because he had wanted kids someday. Alex was twelve when he came to live with Shu, so a bit old for it, but Cliff imagines him there anyways. Elliot and Alex are around all the time since Shu’s garage doubles as their music studio, and sometimes Cliff bundles under blankets and watches them practice. Sometimes Alex’s boyfriend Ryo is there and he watches too. Elliot drives Cliff back and forth to doctors appointments, PT and OT in the same old car they used to have so much fun in back in college. He finds every co-pay assistance program available for Cliff to utilize, but then money starts appearing in Cliff’s bank account again every month from his parents. Elliot thinks maybe his words couldn’t do much, but they apparently did something. Well, his words combined with Moira giving their father absolute hell when she found out what happened.

It’ll be Christmas soon. There’s snow on the ground and the cardinals that visit Shu’s bird feeder look so lovely and bold against the white. Cliff’s sitting in Shu’s kitchen watching them as Elliot brews tea. “Can I tell you something?” Cliff says.

“Of course. Anything,” Elliot says, carrying a steaming mug over and placing it on the kitchen table. He sits next to Cliff and leans his cheek in his hand. His green eyes are so lovely, Cliff thinks to himself.

“I miss living together,” Cliff admits. Elliot looks surprised, but then nods.

“I miss it too.”

“Living here reminds me of when we visited that cabin upstate, all the way back in freshman year,” Cliff says. “That was the best vacation ever.”

“Seriously?” Elliot asks, smirking a little. “Even though we both had terrible head colds and spent the entire weekend in bed?”

“Yeah,” Cliff said, smiling fondly. “It felt like a real home, for the first time in my life.”

Elliot stands and hugs Cliff, planting a kiss on his temple. “I’m not sure when we’ll move in together, but we can definitely go on vacation again,” he says honestly. He doesn’t want to rush things this time, like he felt like they had the first time around.

Cliff nods. “I’d like that.”

Elliot rests the side of his head against the top of Cliff’s head. “You keep getting better and then we can go, deal? Maybe sometime after Christmas.” Cliff hums easily in agreement. He’ll keep working hard to get stronger so they can do the fun stuff they used to do together as soon as possible.

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lady-wallace · 6 months

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Whumptober Alt Prompt #7 - "All Safe and Sound" (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure)

Using a @whumptober alt prompt for today. A bit of a different twist on a Giorno scar reveal fic for today with some misunderstandings and protective papa bears Bruno and Abbacchio

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Prompts Used: Alt. #7: Examination Fandoms: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Part 5 Character: Giorno

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Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

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Abbacchio hurried through the doors of the emergency room with the bundle of blankets and blond teen in his arms.

"Hey!" he called sharply to the nurse working the reception desk. "I'm gonna need some help here. The kid's fever spiked and he's currently unresponsive."

The nurse moved far too calmly for Abbacchio's liking. "Do you know the reason for the fever?"

"He's sick," Abbacchio snapped. "Flu or something—I don't know, I'm not a doctor. He came down with it a few days ago." Even now he could feel Giorno shivering in his arms, soft whimpers escaping every once in a while. Abbacchio readjusted him so that his head wasn't lolling uncomfortably over his arm, but instead tucked against his chest.

"Any other symptoms?"

"Regular coughing and congestion, vomiting—can we please get him some help?"

"Calm down, sir, we'll get him to an examination room shortly."

The nurse picked up the phone and called someone as Abbacchio was practically grinding his teeth, standing there with Giorno still in his arms.

A doctor finally showed up and she beckoned to Abbacchio. "Follow me, I'll see to him."

Abbacchio gratefully followed her down the hall and lowered Giorno onto the exam bed.

"How long has he been like this?" the doctor asked.

"He's only been unresponsive for about an hour, once I saw his fever had gone up near 105, I decided to bring him in. He hasn't been able to keep anything down, not even liquids so he's severely dehydrated."

The doctor was silent as she began unwrapping Giorno from the blanket, giving him a cursory examination.

"You said he had flu symptoms?"

"Yes, as far as we know, it started out like a head cold and then he got the fever and vomiting," Abbacchio replied, folding his arms tightly across his chest as he watched the doctor peel Giorno's eyelids back and look in his ears and nose before taking his temperature.

"Anything in his medical history that I need to know about?"

Abbacchio sighed in exasperation, throwing his hands up. "I don't know."

"I assume you're not his parent," the doctor said, eyeing him up and down.

"No," Abbacchio replied.

"Guardian, then? Or some other family member?"

"I…no, I guess guardian?"

"Sir, I'm going to need a definitive answer on that."

"What the hell does it matter what I am to him? Can't you do your damn job either way? He's a sick kid, help him!"

"What is his name and age?" the doctor asked stiffly as she checked Giorno's temperature.

"Giorno Giovanna, he's sixteen."

The doctor continued silently, putting her stethoscope in her ears and slipping it under Giorno's shirt to listen to his heart. She then rolled him onto his side presumably to listen to his lungs, but as she started to roll his shirt up his back she stopped, freezing slightly before she tugged it back down and turned to Abbacchio with a stony look.

"Sir, I need you to leave the room."

"What? No way, I'm not leaving until I know he's gonna be okay!" Abbacchio protested. "He'll freak out if he wakes up here without anyone he knows."

"I'm afraid I will not allow any argument on this issue," the doctor said and simply marched over, grabbing Abbacchio's arm roughly and pulling him toward the door. "Unless you want me to call security. I'll be out to discuss things with you soon."

Abbacchio was so stunned that he allowed her to shove him out the door and close it behind him. He stood there for a long moment, confusion and worry crashing through him before he finally forced himself to go back to the waiting room, slumping in one of the chairs and bouncing his leg anxiously.

He felt awful, honestly. Bruno had only left for one freaking day and Abbacchio hadn't even been able to watch over a sick kid. Trish and Narancia, who were the only other ones home had been helpful with Giorno's tending but they hadn't known any more than he did. They'd all thought it was just a flu. But then when Giorno's fever spiked so much he turned delirious and now with the doctor's reaction…what if something genuinely serious was wrong with the kid and none of them had noticed? Abbacchio had just thought it was because Giorno had the habit of running himself into the ground so when a bug got to him it hit him really hard—Bruno was the same way. But what if it wasn't something so simple as the yearly flu?

He finally plucked up the courage to call Bruno. He'd promised to call Trish and Narancia too but wanted to wait until he got any news.

"Abbacchio?" Bruno picked up after a couple rings.

"Hey," Abbacchio rubbed a hand over his face. "Giorno…he got worse, so I took him to the emergency room. His fever spiked and I didn't know what else to do."

"God," Bruno murmured. "Okay, no, you did what you should have, Leone. I'm back in the city and I'll make my way over there after dropping the others off. Did they say anything else?"

"No," Abbacchio didn't want to alarm Bruno before he got here in person, especially if he was just reading the situation wrong. "The doctor's still looking at him."

"Okay. Thank you for looking after him, Leone. I'm sure he'll be okay."

Abbacchio wasn't entirely sure, but he ended the call.

He waited a little bit longer, but finally got impatient and stood, heading back toward the room he'd left Giorno in.

He was surprised to see the doctor and a couple nurses standing in the open doorway, talking quietly. Abbacchio could see past them to Giorno lying in the bed, covered in a blanket with an IV drip attached to his arm, hopefully giving him some much needed hydration.

When the doctor spotted him coming their way, she pointed to him with a couple murmured words to the others before stepping up as if to confront him.

"Sir, I asked you to wait in the waiting room."

"All I wanted was an answer as to whether the kid would be okay or not," Abbacchio snapped.

"He's going to be fine," the doctor said shortly. "We're giving him some intravenous fluids right now and some strong medicine to bring the fever down."

"Great," Abbacchio replied, still uneasy. "So can I sit with him, then?"

"We think it's best that you stay away from Giorno until we can ask him a few questions."

Abbacchio frowned, genuinely confused. "Why? He contagious or something? More so than a normal flu?"

"This isn't about him being sick," one of the other doctors spoke up. "This is about your relationship to the young man."

Abbacchio felt like he was about to tear his hair out. "What the hell does that have to do with it?"

"Normally, nothing," the doctor said. "But when a patient shows such clear signs of abuse, it's our job to ask. Especially when they come in with an obviously aggressive 'guardian'." The last word was spoken very pointedly with a cocked eyebrow but Abbacchio was still hooked on 'clear signs of abuse'.

"What do you mean signs of abuse?" he demanded, voice raised quite a bit now.

"Sir, calm down—"

"Don't tell me to fucking calm down!" Abbacchio snapped. "You refuse to give me Giorno's diagnosis, kick me out of the room, and then accuse me of abusing him? Just because I waited an hour to see if his fever would go down by itself instead of taking him here at the first sign of a sniffle?"

"Stop deflecting," the doctor said sternly. "This isn't about him being sick, this about the scars that are literally covering his back."

That information was like a slap to Abbacchio's face. He stood there with his mouth hanging open. "The what?!"

"For you to even enter this room, we're going to need both proof of guardianship and Giorno's express approval—after it has been given in private to one of our staff with the promise of security should he refuse."

"What the fuck kind of bastard do you think I am to beat a kid?" Abbacchio demanded, furious.

"Call security," the doctor told one of the nurses firmly. "Sir, I'll give you one more chance to leave before you're escorted off the premises."

"I'm not leaving the kid here alone!" Abbacchio shouted.

"What exactly is going on here?"

The authoritative voice stopped everyone, and Abbacchio spun in relief to see Bucciarati striding up.

"Bruno, thank god," Abbacchio growled. "The doctor here refuses to let me see Giorno because she's convinced I've abused him."

"Excuse me?" Bruno demanded, eyebrow raised.

The doctor folded her arms over her chest. "Are you Signore Giovanna's guardian?"

"Yes, I am," Bruno replied firmly. "What is the problem here? Why can't Abbacchio sit with him? I assume a badly sick minor is reason enough to forgo usual visiting hours?"

"It's policy that if we expect a patient of being the victim of abuse we cannot allow any potential abusers near them."

"What abuse are we talking about here?" Bruno demanded.

"She says he has scars on his back," Abbacchio said, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought. "Do you know anything about that?"

"What?" Bruno asked incredulously. "Are you accusing Abbacchio of beating him?"

"Well, sir, someone clearly has," the doctor said firmly. "And unless I get some answers out of you two, neither of you are going to be allowed in that room."

"Now see here, Doctor," Bucciarati said, voice low and dangerous. Abbacchio could see his Stand aura wavering around him, Sticky Fingers' hands turning into fists over his own. "Whatever abuse happened to that boy it was not done under my roof, and I resent—"

"Please…stop."

Everyone froze, turning to the open door of the room to see Giorno, propping himself up weakly, looking toward them.

"Giorno," Bruno murmured stepping forward before the doctor held her arm across the door. Abbacchio was sure for a second that Bruno was going to zip it off her body, but Giorno's voice carried weakly to them again.

"They didn't do it. Please let them in," he said.

The doctor didn't relent. "Are you just saying that because you're scared of what they'll do?" she asked kindly. "I promise, no one will hurt you here. We'll have them taken away if that's what you want."

"No!" Giorno pleaded, reaching out and the sight made Abbacchio's heart ache, furious at the doctor. "Don't do that!"

Bruno moved forward. "This has gone far enough, I'm going in to see him."

"Call security!" the doctor snapped, making a move to grab at Bruno's arm, as the other nurses stepped forward.

"Is that you, Bucciarati?" A new voice called as footsteps came down the hall. "What's going on here?"

Abbacchio turned to see a middle-aged man in scrubs and a lab coat walking down the hall, brow pinched in confusion.

Bruno turned and let out a relived sigh. "Ah, Dr. Folliero, I'm so glad you're on duty tonight. One of your doctors seems to have gotten the wrong idea about one of my men."

"What's going on, Marzia?" the doctor asked.

The woman folded her arms. "Doctor, this man brought in a very sick young man with signs of abuse and neither of them have done anything to convince me that one of them was not the one responsible."

"They're not!" Giorno's weak voice came again before he coughed, one of the nurses pushed inside to go see to him.

"This man is with you, Bucciarati?" Dr. Folliero asked, motioning to Abbacchio.

"Yes," both Bruno and Abbacchio said at the same time as the doctor nodded.

"Normally, I would say your dedication is admirable, Marzia," Dr. Folliero said calmly. "However, in this case you're quite mistaken." He reached out to squeeze Bruno's arm fondly. "I've known Bruno Bucciarati since he was little more than a boy coming to visit his ailing father. And since then he has brought me many children off the streets and paid for their treatment out of pocket. He is the last person you should be accusing of abuse to anyone other than the abusers themselves."

"And I assure you that Abbacchio does not beat children either," Bruno said firmly. "He just doesn't take kindly to people keeping information from him when it involves family." Abbacchio flushed, somewhat embarrassed by his conduct, but he would still stand by his principles.

The doctor Marzia looked thoroughly deflated. "I apologize, Signore. I made a mistake."

"This time, yes," Bruno told her. "But do not let that keep you from doing the same in the future. It could save someone's life."

"Well said," Dr. Folliero nodded, giving his protégé a fond look. "I'll see to the boy myself."

Bruno instantly flew into the room with Abbacchio quick to follow.

"How are you doing, kid?" he asked Giorno softly. "Sorry for the trouble."

Bruno took a seat beside him, taking his hand and squeezing in reassurance.

Giorno looked awful, lying there, pale, except for his flushed cheeks, the IV drip leading to a taped needle in the crook of his arm.

"Feel a little better," he murmured.

Dr. Folliero checked him over briefly. "Your fever is down to a manageable 102.5. If you keep this up and are able to keep something in your stomach by tomorrow, then we'll see about getting you out of here."

Giorno nodded tiredly, before his eyes slid shut again, clasping Bruno's hand firmly.

"He'll be all right?" Abbacchio asked the doctor.

The old man smiled at him kindly. "Yes. It's just a bad flu. I would simply recommend he get lots of rest in order to recuperate once you get him back home."

"That's all I wanted to know before," Abbacchio muttered.

Folliero's face sobered them. "I take it from the conversation you didn't know about his scars?"

Bruno's face turned pained as he shook his head. "No, I didn't. Giorno's only been with us for about six months and he hasn't told me much about his past yet."

The doctor nodded. "Well, I'm glad he found you, Bucciarati, wherever he might have been before." He squeezed Bruno's shoulder and shook Abbacchio's hand before he left. "I'll be here all night. Don't hesitate to ask for me if he needs anything."

"Thank you," Bruno said, tiredly.

Abbacchio stood there for a long second before he pulled out his phone. "I'm gonna go call the others real quick. Give them an update."

Bruno nodded, still focused on Giorno.

By the time he got back, someone had brought two hot coffees and Abbacchio gratefully took one as he pulled another chair over to the side of the bed.

"Hey," Abbacchio said, nudging Bruno's knee. "Try not to interrogate him about it. I'm sure he didn't want us to find out like this."

Bruno's look was stricken but he nodded reluctantly, reaching out to push some stray bangs from Giorno's sweaty forehead. "I know. Just…the thought that the bastard who did it might still be out there somewhere…"

"I know," Abbacchio replied darkly. "But ultimately it's up to Giorno."

They sat mostly in silence all night. Abbacchio dozed off, but woke as the shift nurse came in around dawn to check on Giorno.

"He's doing well," she said kindly. "Fever's down to 100 now. We'll let him try eating someone when he wakes up."

Bruno nodded gratefully and the nurse left. Abbacchio stood, stretching with a yawn. "I'll go grab some more coffee."

When he came back, Giorno was awake, and allowing Bruno to prop him up, holding a cup for him to drink from.

"Hey, you're looking a little better," Abbacchio told him, setting Bruno's coffee on the beside table.

"I feel a little better," Giorno admitted. "Just…tired."

"Yes, and you'll be resting up for quite a while," Bruno insisted. Abbacchio wished he could get a recording to play back the next time Bruno got sick.

Giorno looked down at his lap, hands clenched in the blanket. "I…owe you an explanation."

"No, Giorno," Bruno said quietly. "You don't owe us anything, especially not until you're well."

Giorno fidgeted. "if I don't tell you now, I'll just be thinking of it the whole time," he said tiredly, hands clutching the blankets tighter. "The scars…they're from my stepfather. He used to beat me. Usually when he was drunk, but not always. I…I didn't tell you about them before because I just wanted to put that part of my life behind me, but I couldn't let them kick you out, and I couldn't stand to hear them accuse you of doing it because you're…" His eyes filled and his breath hitched. He cringed, knuckles going white as he clenched his fists tighter in the blankets. "You've all been so good to me and I didn't think I'd ever know what it felt like to be part of a family."

"Oh, Giorno," Bruno whispered, looking on the verge of tears himself. He was already standing before he asked. "May I hug you?"

Giorno nodded, choking back a sob, and clung to Bruno as he pulled him into his arms.

"I'm sorry," he sniffled. "I didn't mean to get like this."

"It's the fever talking," Abbacchio said, having mercy on the kid as he sat on the other side of the bed and opened his arms to hug Giorno next. "But you don't need to apologize either. I'm sorry you had shit parents and I promise that all you have to do is say the word and if they're still breathing, they won't be for long."

Giorno squeezed him weakly. "Thanks, Abba," he murmured into his chest.

Abbacchio met Bucciarati's eyes over Giorno's head with a silent nod. They would definitely be looking into information about Giorno's stepfather, keeping tabs on him.

Abbacchio pulled away and Bruno leaned in, pressing a firm kiss to the side of Giorno's head. "Best get some more rest. You should be able to go home by tonight."

Giorno nodded and passed out almost instantly as Bruno pulled the blanket over him again.

"You know, Leone," Bruno said quietly. "I used to wonder if it was worth it, worth all the blood and pain and filthy deeds this life brings. But being able to have the power to protect the ones who need it—it makes it all worth it in the end, don't you think?"

"Yeah," Abbacchio replied sincerely. "It does."

~~~~~~~

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