[ Their merry band seems to have gotten a lot smaller. It's almost like the old days again in Hill House - just Bruno, Abbacchio and Fugo, making it day by day as best as they can. Back then, like now, the three of them were trying to navigate a world that seemed made to chew up the weak and spit them out. The difference is that they'd been climbing upwards then, clawing towards a goal - wealth, glory, purpose, anything they could get. Now, weighed down by all the things that have happened before, and taking on the weight of what's happened now, just keeping their heads above water requires all the strength they have.
It feels that way to Bruno, at least, and he can't imagine the other two are much different. Giorno is dead. Trish is asleep and won't wake up. Both, supposedly, under his watch. He's always treated every one of his group as an adult. In these moments, though, he feels keenly aware of how young they are. Human nature, maybe, to mourn them more deeply; he can't help but ruminate on them, on the fact that he's failed to protect every child he recruited to his cause, Mista included.
All except one. ]
Fugo.
[ a knock at his door. unlike before, Bruno now makes himself extremely scarce during the evenings; it's the sleepy afternoon when he tracks down Fugo this time, a task made easier by his almost irritatingly sensitive nose. He knows he's there. Still, he worries that maybe Fugo won't come, this time; that he'll open the door and find him motionless on the ground, too, succumbed to some threat Bruno couldn't have even imagined. ]
[When Bruno approaches Fugo's room, other than his scent, there are two good indicators that he's in there: the lights are on and the door itself stands ajar. This is normal for Fugo who, as a Stand user with poor control of a very dangerous Stand, adopted habits to minimize potential risk. Those habits aren't necessary anymore, but he hasn't let go of them.
Through the open door, Bruno will hear the sound of someone-- Fugo-- sigh, then the rustle of shifting blankets. And then his voice, a little bleary with the sleep he didn't quite manage to settle into before Bruno knocked on the door.]
Just a moment. [Fugo pads over to the door and opens it. He looks tired. But, well, Fugo always looks tired. His sleeping schedule is a bit of a mess. He has responsibilities during daylight hours, but many of the Monsters living in Hill House are nocturnal. The end result is, at least right now, naps during odd hours when he get manage it.] Did something happen? Do you need me?
[ Fugo does always look tired - and, in turn, he rarely sounds bleary. Between his voice and the slightly-mussed state of his bangs, Bruno is guessing he was sleeping, and immediately regrets interrupting him. Another way the two of them are similar: always sleeping with one eye open, ready to snap awake at any signs of trouble, and thus rarely actually getting much interrupted time to doze. That regret doesn't make it into Bruno's expression outside of a slight tightening of his brow, but his ears do twitch downwards before he shakes his head. ]
No... Unfortunately, nothing's changed.
[ It would be nice if he did have some news. Just earlier, he'd checked on Trish, who was still sleeping like -- well, he won't even think it. Steve is with Giorno right now, so he's left them alone, but if Giorno did come back, he's sure he'd have heard about it by now. ]
I've spent a lot of time with them. This time, I wanted to check on you. [ a pause; he folds his arms, eyes flicking briefly to Fugo's rumpled bedsheets. ] Though if I'd known I was interrupting you, I might have changed my mind. I'm sorry.
[Fugo sighs. In a way, he's relieved. Nothing has changed. There have been no more attacks; no more murderous doubles out to replace the people they came from. But in every other way, he's bitterly disappointed. Nothing has changed. Giorno is still dead. Trish is still asleep. There is ... nothing he can do about either of these things, except wait for them to come back.]
It's alright. You don't need to apologize. [He shrugs, lightly. He is a little puzzled that Bucciarati would come to check on him, but does not outwardly question it. He ... probably would want to do the same, if he wasn't so tired.] It's an odd hour to try and sleep. I was probably going to get up soon anyway.
[ it's a complete non-sequitur. If Bruno didn't know any better, he'd almost think Fugo is the one who walked in to check on him. He raises an eyebrow just slightly, but says nothing. He's used to this kind of thing from him. Easier to worry about someone else than oneself - he should know.
Between the two of them, they manage to take care of each other. Usually. That's how it used to work. ]
I ate breakfast. [ and he's probably had lot of coffee, which counts as food. Maybe. ] Have you?
[It's a non-sequitur. It's a reflex. Between the two of them, they have had to get into this habit. Have you eaten? Have you slept? How long has it been since you got up? How does your wound feel? Both of them are terrible at attending to their own needs, but are sensitive to each other's.
As for Bruno's question, Fugo turns it over in his mind. He doesn't have an appetite. But how long ago was it that he ate? He raises one hand and holds it over his mouth and tries not to think about it, or the man who became his meal. At least that appetite has been taken care of.]
... I should probably eat. [He reaches up again to try and rub the grit out of his eyes.] Something light, though. I don't trust my stomach.
[ the reaction is cause for some concern, but he has a feeling he knows the cause for it. The less said about that new and disgusting facet of their lives, the better. He won't make Fugo relive it. There's a vast difference between killing some piece of shit for their job and killing one with the intention of eating them. Bruno feels like it almost puts him on the same level as those men they met in Rome - Cioccolata and Secco - and is grimly grateful that Fugo can't make the same association. ]
Then I'll bring you something. [ he tilts his head. ] Sit back down. I know you've been running all over.
[ tidying up Giorno's affairs, no doubt. Bruno would be proud of him for being so dutiful if it weren't for the circumstances. ]
[Fugo nods. Normally, he might argue that he can at least make it up to the kitchen-- if not help Bucciarati with the task. But he really is very tired. His body is heavy; a dull headache pounds between his temples. The thought of dragging himself and all of his limbs up to the top floor, honestly, sounds exhausting.]
Okay. I'll leave the door open for you. [His hand falls back down to the side and he turns back into his room.] Thanks, Bucciarati.
[ a single nod; then he's vanished from the doorway again to procure some food.
In truth, it's a relief to be able to do something, even as minor as this. He's been utterly helpless in a way he's not used to this month. Bucciarati is a man of action, but all he can do for Giorno and Trish is wait and pray. At least he can get Fugo some damn food.
Not much later, he returns again with a simple plate, as requested - some cheesy and crusty bread, a light Italian breakfast. By now, it seems he's gotten quite good at manipulating things with his claws; where he might have struggled with something like a plate before, he's now comfortable enough to hold it one hand while he gently closes the door behind him with the other. ]
[Fugo sits down at his desk. And he waits. For once, he doesn't think of much; he doesn't try to get anything done. A pen finds its way out of its place in an organizer to the face of desk. He idly rolls it underneath his palm, up and down, until he can feel Bruno's footsteps approach the door again.]
Yes, I'm awake. [He plucks the pen off the desk and neatly returns it to its proper place. He shifts in place to face Bruno.] Thanks.
[When Bruno approaches, he holds up his hands to receive the plate. He sets it down on the desk in a typically particular Fugo way: perfectly centered, nudging it forward to be a certain distance from the edge of the desk.]
You've gotten better with manipulating objects. [With his claws and paws. Not too long ago, Bucciarati would not have been able to manage this on his own.]
[ he hums in response. It's not exactly something he's proud of; then again, he's not exactly sure Fugo was trying to pay him a compliment, either. It's something to comment on that isn't the two elephants in the room. ]
I had to adapt. This is no time to be a burden. [ if there's another seat for him to take, he'll do so, setting himself down primly; if there isn't, he's fine making himself comfortable leaning his back against the wall. ] My hair is the only thing I still can't do properly.
[Mechanically, Fugo brings the toast to his mouth. Bites, chews, swallows. Distantly, he knows that the food is probably good. It doesn't taste like much of anything today, though.]
Each individual transformation comes with its own struggles. It's a testament to your strength of will that you have been able to overcome this.
[This is a very Fugo sort of thing to say. Although phrased a statement of fact, because that is how he sees it, it's a disarmingly sincere compliment. Fugo, who mistrusts people on principle, has an unshakable faith in Bruno Bucciarati's ability to survive and do good.]
I probably wouldn't be very good at it to begin with. But if you're willing to put up with my learning curve, I'd be happy to help you with your hair when our schedules match up.
No, you have enough to do. I can handle it. [ a beat. ] Consider it a matter of pride.
[ he knows Fugo would do it, just like he knows Fugo means that compliment so wholeheartedly that he didn't even intend for it to be a compliment in the first place. He takes it to heart. It's exactly why he has to look out for him - because Fugo would use up everything he has looking out for the others if no one is there to stop him. Bucciarati is glad he's eating something. Glad, too, that Fugo's faith in him is great enough that he'll allow Bucciarati to take care of him.
He's quiet for a few moments before he speaks again. ]
Tragedy seems to visit us all at once.
[ this isn't the first time they've had a catastrophe like this - even if Bruno wasn't alive to see the full effects of the last one. ]
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action, january... sometime during the fuckening
It feels that way to Bruno, at least, and he can't imagine the other two are much different. Giorno is dead. Trish is asleep and won't wake up. Both, supposedly, under his watch. He's always treated every one of his group as an adult. In these moments, though, he feels keenly aware of how young they are. Human nature, maybe, to mourn them more deeply; he can't help but ruminate on them, on the fact that he's failed to protect every child he recruited to his cause, Mista included.
All except one. ]
Fugo.
[ a knock at his door. unlike before, Bruno now makes himself extremely scarce during the evenings; it's the sleepy afternoon when he tracks down Fugo this time, a task made easier by his almost irritatingly sensitive nose. He knows he's there. Still, he worries that maybe Fugo won't come, this time; that he'll open the door and find him motionless on the ground, too, succumbed to some threat Bruno couldn't have even imagined. ]
Are you awake?
no subject
Through the open door, Bruno will hear the sound of someone-- Fugo-- sigh, then the rustle of shifting blankets. And then his voice, a little bleary with the sleep he didn't quite manage to settle into before Bruno knocked on the door.]
Just a moment. [Fugo pads over to the door and opens it. He looks tired. But, well, Fugo always looks tired. His sleeping schedule is a bit of a mess. He has responsibilities during daylight hours, but many of the Monsters living in Hill House are nocturnal. The end result is, at least right now, naps during odd hours when he get manage it.] Did something happen? Do you need me?
no subject
No... Unfortunately, nothing's changed.
[ It would be nice if he did have some news. Just earlier, he'd checked on Trish, who was still sleeping like -- well, he won't even think it. Steve is with Giorno right now, so he's left them alone, but if Giorno did come back, he's sure he'd have heard about it by now. ]
I've spent a lot of time with them. This time, I wanted to check on you. [ a pause; he folds his arms, eyes flicking briefly to Fugo's rumpled bedsheets. ] Though if I'd known I was interrupting you, I might have changed my mind. I'm sorry.
no subject
It's alright. You don't need to apologize. [He shrugs, lightly. He is a little puzzled that Bucciarati would come to check on him, but does not outwardly question it. He ... probably would want to do the same, if he wasn't so tired.] It's an odd hour to try and sleep. I was probably going to get up soon anyway.
Have you eaten?
no subject
Between the two of them, they manage to take care of each other. Usually. That's how it used to work. ]
I ate breakfast. [ and he's probably had lot of coffee, which counts as food. Maybe. ] Have you?
cw: cannibalism, implied nausea
As for Bruno's question, Fugo turns it over in his mind. He doesn't have an appetite. But how long ago was it that he ate? He raises one hand and holds it over his mouth and tries not to think about it, or the man who became his meal. At least that appetite has been taken care of.]
... I should probably eat. [He reaches up again to try and rub the grit out of his eyes.] Something light, though. I don't trust my stomach.
no subject
Then I'll bring you something. [ he tilts his head. ] Sit back down. I know you've been running all over.
[ tidying up Giorno's affairs, no doubt. Bruno would be proud of him for being so dutiful if it weren't for the circumstances. ]
no subject
Okay. I'll leave the door open for you. [His hand falls back down to the side and he turns back into his room.] Thanks, Bucciarati.
no subject
In truth, it's a relief to be able to do something, even as minor as this. He's been utterly helpless in a way he's not used to this month. Bucciarati is a man of action, but all he can do for Giorno and Trish is wait and pray. At least he can get Fugo some damn food.
Not much later, he returns again with a simple plate, as requested - some cheesy and crusty bread, a light Italian breakfast. By now, it seems he's gotten quite good at manipulating things with his claws; where he might have struggled with something like a plate before, he's now comfortable enough to hold it one hand while he gently closes the door behind him with the other. ]
Still awake?
no subject
Yes, I'm awake. [He plucks the pen off the desk and neatly returns it to its proper place. He shifts in place to face Bruno.] Thanks.
[When Bruno approaches, he holds up his hands to receive the plate. He sets it down on the desk in a typically particular Fugo way: perfectly centered, nudging it forward to be a certain distance from the edge of the desk.]
You've gotten better with manipulating objects. [With his claws and paws. Not too long ago, Bucciarati would not have been able to manage this on his own.]
no subject
I had to adapt. This is no time to be a burden. [ if there's another seat for him to take, he'll do so, setting himself down primly; if there isn't, he's fine making himself comfortable leaning his back against the wall. ] My hair is the only thing I still can't do properly.
[ much to his dismay. ]
I'm envious of you, in some ways.
no subject
Each individual transformation comes with its own struggles. It's a testament to your strength of will that you have been able to overcome this.
[This is a very Fugo sort of thing to say. Although phrased a statement of fact, because that is how he sees it, it's a disarmingly sincere compliment. Fugo, who mistrusts people on principle, has an unshakable faith in Bruno Bucciarati's ability to survive and do good.]
I probably wouldn't be very good at it to begin with. But if you're willing to put up with my learning curve, I'd be happy to help you with your hair when our schedules match up.
no subject
No, you have enough to do. I can handle it. [ a beat. ] Consider it a matter of pride.
[ he knows Fugo would do it, just like he knows Fugo means that compliment so wholeheartedly that he didn't even intend for it to be a compliment in the first place. He takes it to heart. It's exactly why he has to look out for him - because Fugo would use up everything he has looking out for the others if no one is there to stop him. Bucciarati is glad he's eating something. Glad, too, that Fugo's faith in him is great enough that he'll allow Bucciarati to take care of him.
He's quiet for a few moments before he speaks again. ]
Tragedy seems to visit us all at once.
[ this isn't the first time they've had a catastrophe like this - even if Bruno wasn't alive to see the full effects of the last one. ]