Vento Aureo: Stray Wolf (JJBA x OC)

two

Dolce awoke the next morning to a soft knock on the door. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Hello?"

"Can I come in?" A girl's voice? He didn't realize there were any girls here.

"Uhh, yeah!" He said, sitting on the edge of the bed as the door opened. In stepped a girl with pink hair and a sweet-looking face... but something told Dolce she'd also been through a lot, too.

She sat a folded pile of clothes on the chair, then gave a small wave. "Hi, I'm Trish. Bucciarati told me to bring you some fresh clothes. He also told me to show you to the bathroom, you probably want to shower, right?" 

Dolce nodded quickly, standing. "Yeah, I could really use one..." He said, gesturing to a few spots of dried blood that still stained his skin. 

"Come on, then. Bring the clothes too. Hopefully they fit." Trish said, walking out of the room. 

Dolce quickly followed her after grabbing the clothes, and they walked up the hall to a cozy and clean looking bathroom. The shower looked nice, it had a big showerhead and it was spacious. 

"I'll leave you to it. Towels are over there. You can use any soap you want." She said with a slight smile, then left the room.

Dolce locked the door behind her, then stripped out of the pajamas he was given the night before and stepped into the shower. He stood towards the back while he turned on the water, giving it a chance to get warm. 

He sighed once he stepped under the hot stream of water, eyes closed at first so he didn't have to watch the blood run down the drain. He felt better, but seeing that was still a bit much for him.

After a minute or so, he grabbed a bottle of fruity-scented shampoo and started soaping up his lavender-colored hair. The shower felt absolutely incredible... he couldn't even remember the last time he'd felt such warm water. Life on the street was unforgiving. Although his former pimp had given him a place to stay, it was more of a shack than anything. No running water, no heat, just electric... and even that would go out often.

He sighed as he rinsed out his hair, grabbing body wash next. He carefully started to soap himself up, biting his lip as his fingers traced the huge scar that now remained on his stomach. He hated the look of it... but something like this, it would remind him of what happened, and that someone needed to pay for it. 

Although he couldn't contribute much to society with the state he used to be in, it certainly didn't mean he deserved to die... especially in such a horrible way as what those people were planning.

He shook his head, quickly rinsing off and turning off the water. He was thinking too much about the days before and it ruined his shower. He stepped out, grabbing a towel and rubbing his face with it. It was incredibly soft and smelled so nice. He dried off, then put on the clothes that Trish had given him.

A t-shirt that fit snugly, fresh underwear and socks, and a pair of black jeans. The outfit was pretty cute, although he couldn't help but wonder who's clothes they were.

After he was dressed, he went downstairs to the kitchen area, wondering if there was any food. He realized it had been days since he'd actually eaten, and he was starving.

Peeking into the kitchen from the doorframe, Dolce saw Bucciarati facing the oven. He was cooking, and whatever it was... it smelled really good.

"Hello?" He called in a soft voice, worried that he'd be disturbing him. 

"Oh, hello, Dolce. Are you feeling any better this morning?" Bucciarati asked, looking at him over his shoulder. 

Dolce nodded, a small smile on his face. "Yeah, I am. Thank you so much, I feel cleaner than I've felt in... forever." 

"It's no problem. Are you hungry? I'm making breakfast." He said, opening the oven and carefully pulling out a tray. 

Dolce almost felt his tail wagging once he saw what was on the tray. Fresh croissants, and they looked absolutely perfect. 

"Do you like them plain, with jam, or with Nutella?" He asked, and Dolce perked up even more. "Umm, can I have two different ones? I usually have the ones with jam, but I wanna try one with Nutella too!"

"Sure thing," Bucciarati smiled, getting ready to fill them. "Just have a seat at the table, and I'll bring you some."

He sat down at the large table, waiting patiently.

"Oooh, do I smell croissants?" A voice called, and Dolce turned to see Mista. He swallowed, feeling a little guilty now. Mista had actually saved his hide yesterday, and he hadn't even thanked him yet.

"You do. Mista, why don't you get Dolce a cup of coffee? Dolce, how do you like your coffee?" Bucciarati asked. 

"With cream and sugar! T-Thank you!" He said, watching as Mista poured two cups of coffee- one black, and then one with cream and sugar. 

Mista sat the cups on the table, and Dolce reached for his with a small smile. "Thank you."

"No problem. You feeling better?" Mista asked, sipping on his coffee. 

"I am. Thanks to you, and everyone here." Dolce said, a serious look on his face now. "I would have been dead if you didn't find me when you did..."

"Hey, don't worry about it, man. I'm just glad we were able to save you. Now we might be able to get some info." Mista said, and Bucciarati smacked him on the back of the head.

"Mista, don't put it like that! He's not just a tool, he's a person. Show a little respect."

Mista gave Dolce an apologetic smile, shaking his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just... we've seen too many wolves dying to this kind of violence. I was hoping you'd know something about it." 

Dolce paled a bit, swallowing hard. "Wait, how did you know I was a wolf?" He asked, panicking.

"I can smell it on you. I'm a wolf, too. We all are." He said, shrugging.

Dolce blinked, tilting his head a bit. "I thought wolves were more rare..? Especially here..."

"They are," Mista nodded. "But we've found each other and decided it was important to stick together. The streets are dangerous. Bucciarati took most of us in." He said, gesturing to the black-haired man who was now walking over with two plates of croissants.

"It was the least I could do. I hate seeing children in trouble." He sighed, and Mista glared at him. "Hey, I'm not a kid anymore!"

Bucciarati smiled fondly, patting Mista's head. "You were when I found you. That's how I'll probably always see you." 

Mista huffed, grabbing a croissant from his plate. "Yeah." He bit into it, then hummed. "This is amazing, as always." 

"Thank you." Bucciarati smiled at Dolce, setting another plate down. "Here, eat up. I made plenty." 

Dolce eagerly tore into a croissant, humming at the sweet taste of the strawberry jam. "It is amazing! I can't remember the last time I had something so good..." He sighed happily, and Bucciarati frowned slightly. "Oh dear. We're certainly going to have to spoil you, hmm?"

Dolce blushed. "N-No, it's okay! Don't do that!" 

"We'll owe it to you. You'll help us find the people who hurt you, right?" He asked gently, ducking down slightly to be at eye level with Dolce, who swallowed.

"Y-Yeah, definitely. Those bastards need to pay. It... It wasn't the first time they've done this, I know it. So much blood in that room..." He trailed off.

"You don't need to think about it right now," Bucciarati said softly, shaking his head. "Eat first, then we'll talk about what you know." 

Dolce nodded, quietly going back to his croissants and coffee.