Work With Me -Bruno Buccellati x Reader-

27- Famiglia

The van purred as the three of you drove past the shadowy buildings of Napoli. Fugo drove silently, weaving down the deserted streets waiting as birds pecked at the roads, checking his mirrors occasionally for a sign of Cioccolata. In the dark, the city was haunting, with only the bars and their colourful lights to prove that others were still alive. You sat in the back seat, staring out of the window, Bruno sat beside you. You rested your hand in the space between you and Bruno gently placed his atop yours. It was a silent gesture, but relaxed at the warmth of his palm. Your bags clunked occasionally, stuffed full of your clothes, and you tried not to think about what was happening. You would be safe soon, in Venezia with the Don and then Cioccolata could not touch you.

Bruno shifted in his seat,

"Why is he after you?" He said eventually, 

You sighed, "When Giorno was made Don, he- he found me. We made a deal, I was not to tell Giorno that he was alive, or about what he did. I didn't have a choice, he threatened me- he said he'd..." You trail off, shuddering. 

"And now we know, he's come for you."

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. Bruno held your hand tight, a sign that he wasn't angry, even if the air grew heavier.

"I'm sorry."

"It's too late now, I've decided dwelling on the past is no use. Let's look forward, to Venezia." 

"If we drive without stopping," Fugo interrupts, "We can make it by morning."

Bruno shakes his head, "And if we do that, we'll be exhausted. We should do it a couple hours at a time- we'll be no use to Giorno if we can't even keep our eyes open."

"Very well, and we can swap drivers at every stop."

Bruno nods, and looks to you. You avoid his eyes, piercing in the night. The lights from the street-lamps brush past, golden light dancing in his hair and shining on his clips. His skin is hot, fingers curling around your hand, stroking gently, though you can't bear to look at him. Sweat beads on the back of your neck, and your stomach lurches. This is your doing, you are the reason the three of you are sat in this van, why Fugo is driving so quickly to Venezia, why Cioccolata is on your heels. You pull your hand away, and cross your hands over your stomach. It hurts, an emptiness is eating away at you.

"Alright?" Bruno asks, 

You can't find the words, they stick in your throat. You want to cry.

"If you're nervous, it'll be ok, Cioccolata is no match for Giorno."

That's not it. You want to scream at him. That's not it. That's not why you feel so pained, why does he not get it? You turn your whole body away from him, as far as the seatbelt will allow. You want to grab his face, scream, cry into his chest, while away the hours until the pain stops. He'd let you, you know he would. Why can't you? Because you don't deserve it, that's why. 

~~~~~~~~

After a while, Fugo stops the van. The sun is just beginning to break through the clouds, a couple golden smears across the violet, and you stretch lazily, stepping out of the car. You're in Rome now, and the city is relativity quiet, only a few stragglers walk the streets. Bruno adjusts his suit, 

"I should think it's time for breakfast," he says, 

"There's a place around here I like," Fugo points down a street, "Come on,"

You follow the two men, down cobbled streets still lit up from the lamps. The breeze brushes against your skin, and before you Bruno's hair is swaying this way and that. You know this street, it reminds you of old times, wandering the city with your team, eating lunch and drinking in bars until the early hours. Bruno stops for a moment, eyes casting back to watch you walk up to him. He extends a hand to you and you take it, despite not really wanting to. 

"Let's get some food into you, you'll feel better then." He leads you into the restaurant. It's a little hole in the wall, with orange lighting and the rich aroma of coffee is thick in the air. Fugo finds a table by the window and the three of you sit down to order. 

You sip at your coffee, staring out of the window, watching as people begin mulling past, heading to work as the sun turns the whole city golden. You shift in your seat, Bruno's hand rests around you waist, holding you silently. 

"We should get going soon, we can't afford to stop for too long. Cioccolata is restless."

Bruno nods. "I can see that, we mustn't underestimate him."

"What do we do when we reach Venezia?" 

"Giorno will be able to beat him, you've not seen what he's capable of yet." Fugo picks at his food, he seems on edge.

"You two don't have to do any of this, and neither does Giorno. I caused this, he wants me ."

"We've all made mistakes, ran away from things we don't like. But we are a famiglia, and despite our mistakes, we have to learn to forgive ourselves." Fugo reaches a hand across the table, and you clasp it firmly. Bruno's grip tightens on you, sure and certain. 

"For the famiglia," Fugo says, 

"For the famiglia."