Bloody Golden Butterfly [JJBA Fanfiction] (Giorno x Jolyne)

4. Runaway

Being away from home for a time when your job is to control the largest criminal empire in the country did not make things calmer on the way back despite the fact that hardly anyone had found out about Don Giovanna's absence. He finally began to understand Diavolo and his habit of not having meetings in person. In addition to being a psychotic bastard, the amount of time that people could steal from him with authentic nonsense was incredible.

Feeling stressed, he decided to take a relaxing bath, only to find that nothing had changed; he simply went from being stressed at his desk to being stressed in the bathtub. At least it was pleasant, full of bath salts and dried flower petals that he himself had bred to be especially fragrant. His bathroom was very luxurious, with the bathtub even having a hydromassage option that he helped himself to.

The last notes of twilight light filtered through the Murano glass worked with a filigree of exquisite colors. Candlelight flickered while the notes of recorded piano music echoed with the acoustics of the marble bathroom. The scented water was doing its best to relax his muscles, and it was so effective that he forgot to not dip his blond curls into the water as well.

When he had gotten tired of fixing unforeseen events, he had announced to Fugo and Mista that he would be taking a relaxing bath. Mista told him that he did not understand how he could relax that way. He supposed their little idyll attempt a couple of years ago had failed precisely because of this, because they were so different. Giorno believed in body care, including facial care routines, but above all, hygiene. Hygiene was a bit more liberal in Mista's case; it wouldn't have worked out.

Inadvertently, he thought again of the scene Donatello had caused. In the moment of desperation, he had told the Joestars to hide without even asking them where they planned to go. Now he realized that it had not been the best of his ideas. Perhaps now he could speak with them calmly and even set a trap for the monsters, but of course, it had not been the right time back then, with the corpse of Joseph Joestar still warm in front of them. He had underestimated Donatello too much, and other people had paid with their lives for his mistake.

Thinking about it now, when all was already done and over it, maybe he should have just called the Speedwagon Foundation as soon as he had learned of the danger. He had been too arrogant, thinking that he could arrive in time before Donatello, or that Gold Experience Requiem could overpower him as it had always done with the others before him. But he hadn't wanted anything to do with the Foundation ever since Dr. Kujo had threatened to kill him ruthlessly if he so much as looked like his father or turned into a vampire. Not that he was afraid of the man, but he didn't want to work with him under such circumstances.

He was usually good at making quick decisions in times of crisis, but this time he had felt too useless. Useless. His stepfather's voice was coming back to his head like a migraine. He decided the water was getting cold and it was a good time to get out.

Tonight, he was going to have dinner with the trusted members of the gang, which of course included Trish. The surviving members. The priest's words about the vampiric powers of resurrection came to mind. Every day, he felt more and more lost; only Bruno Bucciarati had been able to exercise a reliable guide in his life. He needed him even more than he had the day he died. He had deluded himself into believing he could handle anything, but he felt younger and more inexperienced than when he was just a goal-minded teenager. But at the same time, he felt old and tired, 200-years-old instead of 20.

He dressed without much haste. That day they would be hosting the dinner at home for his own comfort. Sure, the humility of his comfortable attire was like that of his home.

Wrapped in a Versace robe customized with his name, part of a gift package the designer Donatella herself had sent him, he headed for the closet. Since becoming the Don, he wore black a lot in public, but at home in the immense palazzo in the hills of Rome, he liked to wear brighter colors.