Apparition (Vento Aureo x Reader)

When Life Falls Apart Just Kick It Under The Fridge So No One Notices

Everyone had made it back alright, Bruno reading the newspaper, Narancia flickering through the TV looking for something silly to watch, ignoring his workbook that sat idly next to him, and Abbacchio at the table with Bruno, sipping his wine and thinking to himself, as much as he hated when that happened. Thankfully, a distraction. Everyone turned to look at the door and Narancia quickly turned the TV off, hunching over the workbook like he had been stuck on that page for the last thirty minutes. Bruno smiled as the both of them entered relatively unharmed, (Y/N)'s still damp hair covering her cut. She would fix it on her own later. "And how did it go?"

"We almost died." Fugo bluntly stated.

"We almost died!" (Y/N) laughed, rolling her neck as she walked down the hall and past everyone. Bruno dismissed her cheerful disposition, she faced those life or death situations before so he wasn't too worried, returning to his newspaper as Fugo cussed Narancia out for not working. Abbacchio glanced upstairs where she had escaped to, standing up to go follow her.

Narcy dodged the pencil. "Abbacchio saw! He saw me do my work!" But when they looked, he wasn't in his spot anymore, wine glass still half empty on the table.

(Y/N) sat on the counter of the bathroom, dragging the cotton ball over her cut with shaking fingers. Things hurt, but rubbing alcohol hits different. She sighed, the gash was a little deeper than she expected, to be honest, but she didn't have the willpower to shove it any harder into her skin. It stung enough just on its own, enough to invoke endless streams of tears down her cheeks as she silently dabbed the bloody napkin against her skin. "Hurts..."

"You're doing it wrong." Abbacchio stood in the doorway, arms crossed as he watched her struggle to clean her wound. Usually it was La Squadra that cleaned it for her, she was just trying to follow their steps. "Did you wash it off first?"

"I jumped three stories into a river." She quickly wiped away her tears and stood a little straighter, as if she wasn't pathetic. "Does that count?"

"Don't pull that shit with me." He hissed. He would say he doesn't know why he actually cares, or why he bothered walking over and dragging her to the shower head to wash off the gash. Maybe it was because she reminded of someone when he was in the force. "You need to properly rinse it off first things first."

She gasped and shivered at the rush of cold water that drummed against her skin, squeezing her eyes shut as it started to at least numb. Her hair was already soaked, but she pulled it away anyway, watching him turn off the water and hang the showerhead back up. Abbacchio brought out a small, clean towel and started to lather a little soap into the area surrounding it, careful to not let any drip into the wound. He was rather gentle, even if the entire time he was cussing her out for making his life harder. He didn't understand people like her, who would hold their problems so close that no one ever knew what was wrong. It was annoying, honestly. What good would that do? He bandaged the area, brushing her hair out of its way so they didn't stick together. "Is it done?"

"Yea. Don't pick at it or else it will end up like your eye." He threatened, washing his hands again and prodding her patch with his wet finger. "You obviously don't know how to take care of yourself."

"Thank you, Abba." She smiled, it was a little heavier than usual, but to him, it felt a little more genuine. "Your generosity knows no bounds, truly."

"You don't need to thank me." The nickname was ignored, maybe even accepted by him, but he couldn't leave her there like that, still shaken up and twitching like a kid with tourettes. He found himself turning around, unable to leave the bathroom. "What happened?"

"What?" (Y/N) looked back at him, fingers brushing the cotton he had pressed against her wound.

"How did you get the cut, dumbass?" He rolled his eyes, leaning against the sink and awaiting her answer.

"You're leaning against a puddle of water."

"Fuck-" Well there went his cool kindness, dashed away with what looks like an unfortunate accident in the back. It didn't help that she started laughing, soaking up the water on the counter with her towel and tossing it in the hamper.

"We were being shot at." Her response was mumbled, as if hoping the soundless rustle of her clothes would cover her voice. "We had completed the job but an assassin had followed us. I think I flinched or something when I heard the gunshot and the bullet grazed me."

Abbacchio had retreated to the wall in hopes of hiding the wet mark on his ass, listening to her story in silence. "Fugo too?" He thought back to their first words upon entering the house, 'we almost died.'

"Yea. We had to jump down a waterfall to escape him. It was pretty cool." Her smile had disappeared, tracing the remaining water droplets on the counter. "I don't think he got hit though, so that's good. I'm glad about that."

"So, You were the one that almost died." he raised an eyebrow. Now he understood. It wasn't selflessness, no. It was a mechanism, an act to keep herself from thinking of the 'what if' and the 'should have'. Among her laughter was fear, a moment he could relate to dearly. "Are you scared?"

"No."

"Bullshit. Tell the truth. Do you fear death?"

"I don't."

"You do."

"I'm not afraid of it. It's natural, there's no need to be afraid."

"So you're afraid of an unnatural death. A sudden one, an uncontrollable one."

"And who died and made you king of therapy?" She spat, leaning forward and off the counter. She just wanted to sleep the night away, but he wouldn't let her. He was on the mark, it was so familiar he could taste it like blood in his mouth. It was what he faced every day, and he wanted to encourage her, to say that it will get better, that she will learn to live with it, but he hasn't. His guilts and his fears cling to him like a porcupine's quills, more painful to pull them out than to leave them in.

"Sometimes there are things you can't control." The words tumbled from his lips, and he wasn't sure if they were even his. He had never heard them before, but he knows these were the words he wanted to hear. These were words that no one had ever told him despite needing to hear them. Maybe these words were for him instead of her. "Sometimes you did all you could in that moment. You just have to improve for the next time so it doesn't happen again."

She paused, his words dug deep, like a twist of a knife. It rubbed her the wrong way, and her teeth grit together in an effort to fight her tears. She wasn't sure what moment she was talking about anymore, glimmers of memories long locked away bubbling up inside her like a volcano ready to blow. The anger and the fear she felt, watching her mother's head explode from the crack in the wooden cupboard, the one wielding the gun the same man that hunted them both down, her father. "I could have done better."

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Jesus fucking Christ I promise I'll get to the plot soon I swear I prom-

In other news I totally bullshit my essay BUT I did complete it, and also guess who we are meeting soon~

Love it when y'all blow up my phone with votes and comments, makes me feel so loved~ <3