jjba x reader oneshots (requests open!)

3- happy birthday!~ Abbacchio x reader

TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE DAY BABYYY

those of you that read this in my old oneshot book know what's coming

and im not sorry (kinda)

[no, this isnt for the request that asked for the cop x cop scenario, but i will be doing that one soon!]

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"come on, blow out your candles! make a wish!" narancia giggled, bouncing in his seat like a child.

it wasn't even his birthday, but the pint-sized narancia was more excited than the real birthday-boy, abbacchio, who sat idle in his wooden chair, surrounded by colorful decorations and smiling faces. 

you weren't too far from him, swaying side to side impatiently with a cheesy grin that pulled a faint smile to his face. birthdays were hard for him, they always were. abbacchio felt like he didn't need to celebrate anymore, like it was just another day in his passing life.

sighing heavily, he let out a large gust that knocked the flames off of his candles, watching tendrils of smoke curl into the air like fingers. he didn't cheer once.

everyone else, however, was.

hollering and laughing, having a blast-- when your impatience finally won you over and forced you out of your seat.

abbacchio, rightfully curious, watched you hop out of your seat and stumble over to him, a small black box pulled out from behind you. "happy birthday, leone!"

for weeks, you would take five hours out of your day and hole yourself up inside your room, no one allowed to enter. the echoing sounds of drills and hammers, and occasional shouts of frustration, would rack the house everyone resided in, sometimes even waking people from sleep.

but it was all for today... at least, abbacchio assumed so based on your expression. a bright smile with dark circles under your eyes.

"it took a while to make it, though im sure youre aware." you laughed, shoving the tiny box into his large, calloused hands with a grin. "i hope you like it!"

the entire gang watched as he slowly pulled off the top, each of them holding in their anticipation with silent guesses plaguing their mind. what was it that you had spent all this time on?

a bright glimmer blinded abbacchio for a moment, only a moment, before a large golden 'A' came into view on a shining plaque, a purple ribbon on either side. a new belt, he realized. you had spent all that time making him a new belt.

"i hope this makes up for your old one breaking, abbacchio! happy birthday!" you chuckled, arms wrapping around the much taller, burlier man, before he returned the gesture happily/

'happy birthday!'

-end of tape-

yeah, happy fucking birthday.

-zzzzmmmpptt-

the hum of static rushed to fill the silent room, the tv that had once been on, reminding a certain ex-cop of his last birthday, having been powered off. wine bottles littered an aged, wooden desk, some of them even having toppled over onto the floor, stray shards of glass making the carpet a warzone, impossible to step in.

fifteen times. he watched that tape fifteen goddamn times.

 the familiar glimmer of something golden, something round and shiny, stopped abbacchio from pushing the cd into the tv again. the belt you had made, framed nicely inside a glass case, mocked him from afar.

he could hear it practically sneer at him...

'you couldn't save her, pathetic piece of shit!'

and it hurt far more than it should've.

a broken mirror stood off in the corner of the dimly lit bedroom, a web-like fracture rupturing through its center, abbacchio able to see one too many reflections of himself staring back at him at once. it was humiliating.

a ridiculous, worn down, cone shaped party hat sat atop his head, the same one that looked brand new in the video he'd seen countless times over. its not like he'd wear something so ridiculous, something practically two years old now, on just any day.

after all, today was his birthday.

yet another bottle found itself empty in abbacchios grasp, its deep green glass being tossed into the trash can that was quickly piling up. how many bottles had he drunken by now? two... four... six... it didn't matter, he just knew it was too many for his blurring mind to count.

not one member of bucciaratis crew bothered to knock on abbacchios door, and not one of them knew what was going on. he did this last year, hiding away in his room nd throwing a pity party. and when someone finally attempted to check on him, their concern was met with angry shouts, and a door to the face.

he blew out a lighter, not even bothering to lite a single candle for himself before blowing it out again.

his birthday wish for this year? one more time. to hear your voice, to see you again, one more time.

it was an impossible wish-- but then again, arent a lot of wishes impossible? some ask for a superpower, others for money... and him, to hear the voice of someone long dead.

grunting with despair and frustration, another bottle was snatched from his cabinet and gripped tightly in his hands, the cd, warm because of how many times it had been played, was once more forced into its slot.

then, a familiar round of faces was shown on the screen,  cheering happily when he heard, for the umpteenth time, 

"come on, blow our your candles! make a wish!"

the bottle in his hand, filled with liquid only meant to be drunk in small amounts, sloshed as it was swung over to abbacchios lips again and quickly drained.

like everyone else, leone once wanted a slow, sparing death-- now he just wants life to get it over with. 

he hoped- no, he prayed this wine bottle, the second to last he had left full of the bitter alcohol, would kill him off.

he wanted it to finish him.

.

.

.

and, maybe, it would.