la sicurezza del capo :: giorno x reader

capitolo 23 :: soprese

It was a simple case of wrong place, wrong time, like most of the times and places it happened.

The day started out normal, at least.

With the feel of a cold wooden desktop against your forearms and a pen in your hand. And not to mention an empty stomach.

The little alarm clock on your desk rings for 3 in the afternoon, your new assignment.

Sighing and hitting the snooze button, you rub your eyes. "I shouldn't have bought this," You whisper to yourself, pushing yourself off your desk and cracking your knuckles, "It was a waste of money. And it reminds me that I can't even rest comfortably anymore."
---
3:15 PM

The car is either broken or no one has fixed these roads in a damn while.

You look at the chauffeur, seeking some redemption. "You know who we're picking up this time? They never tell us." It was a futile effort to strike up a conversation.

"I don't know," he just about exclaims. "But based on the location, must be pretty someone pretty damn important!" He goes into a classic laughter-into-a-wheezing-fit that a smoker might have, and all you do is weakly laugh in response.

The rest of the ride is uncomfortably silent (and not to mention too bumpy for a paved road). Seeing the car stop in front of an official-looking building was a huge relief. Or maybe it was a rich person's house. You weren't sure, they're all in the same category.

The sole of your boot touches the concrete outside the building as you get out of the car. The wind lightly blows westwards and somewhere, a cars speeds by. It's too quiet.

The door is a few feet away from you, and apparently, not very thick. Muffled voices come from the other side of the door, getting louder as whoever's behind it comes closer.

You use your pinky to push your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose as you stand up straight and poised for whoever was behind those doors.

As they come closer, their conversation becomes easier to eavesdrop into. Unwittingly, you lean towards the direction of the door to try to make something out. It's no use.

Thankfully, you lean away from it just in time to avoid getting hit square in the face with a wooden door. It blocks your vision from seeing who is in the actual doorway.

A fat little old man steps into your view, and you almost want to laugh. He looks cute, somewhat, but it's likely that he's probably committed his fair share of crimes in his youth. Or maybe recently. It didn't matter.

You realize the door's being held open for him, and hastily scramble grab the handle before it seemed rude that you didn't open it for him in the first place. It looked a little awkward, holding a rifle in one hand like a baby and a doorknob in the other, but that's what this job is for, isn't it?

Someone mutters a thank you as they step out.

Like always, his hair always made him stand out. His little braid trailed behind him as he walked, somehow confidently, towards the car. As you could with him, he recognized you in a split second. You could tell by the way he raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Okay," you think, inhaling- "shoulders back, chin up, don't smile-" (The sight of him makes you smile for just a second, even though you're not supposed to).

Giorno and the other person walk closer towards the car, and you nod your head as if to say "hello" sternly. In one fluid arm motion, you switch from holding the door to holding the car door, continuing to stare straight ahead with a stern look. He stops before he gets in and does that half-smile like he always does.

"What are you frowning for?" He mutters jokingly, just above a whisper. For a split second, your frown is interrupted by a much wider smile.

Sighing (a bit embarrassed), you put your sunglasses on top of your head (which was already a violation, but whatever). "Sorry. Please get in the car before you get shot-"

You notice a little red dot on his chest? "You've got a-" before you can even finish the sentence, you realize what that is.

A sniper's laser sight.

Quickly, you push him (maybe a little too forcefully) into the car seat, and before you can even close the door, a loud bang rings out and your eardrums feel as if they had popped.

A pain sears through your back and the wind was knocked out of you faster than you could think about it. Quickly throwing your body against the door to slam it shut, you motion for the driver to go, and quick.

And then all of a sudden it's hard to stand.

In the few seconds you fell to the floor (looking like an idiot), everyone burst into a panic. Before Giorno could have done anything, the car had already sped off. Something rings in your ears and it feels as if you don't have a middle.

Shakily flicking your sunglasses back down to the bridge of your nose, you grumble, "I swear to god. This is the third time the author is trying to redeem her shitty Kakyoin book by putting in references."

You blink a few times. "Wait. What?" Must have been the oxygen leaving your brain.

Oh wait. You had forgotten that was going on.

As you struggle to turn over so you can lie on your back, your trembling hand reaches up to touch your chest, and your fingers come back red and smelling like metal. You know this would happen, goddamn it.

Bunches of things run through your head, which include "oh god, I'm dying" and "this is it, I'm finished" and "I'm fucking dying a hungry woman".

Before you can think about who'll feel Sveta while you're dead, you place a hand on your chest, sigh, and say a quick little prayer. "Alright," you say, looking up to the sky, "here I come. Make some room for me up there."

Breath out.
And there's no breath in.
---
A/N
(null)