Your Words Are Honey [Mista x Giorno] 🔫🐞

Wax

After getting his wounds to stop bleeding, they encouraged Prosciutto to get some rest. But he found it to be impossible. He was exhausted, sure. Not so long ago he had to carry an almost dead Mista outside the house where the medical team came to their aid as soon as Prosciutto gave them a call. They moved quickly, thankfully. Mista was far gone by the time he closed his eyes. Still, something else kept him from sleeping. The feeling of regret, of things that were broken and lost like his pride. The only glue that held him together, nowhere to be seen. This is what it took to make him crumble down and the thought of it was driving him crazy. He wanted to be whole again but the process was going to take him a long time of getting used to, time that he didn't even know if he would have.

Now, in the middle of a made-up hospital room, he sighed at what he had left. Although this was no appropriate time to mourn for his injuries. Prosciutto was used to pain. He understood it and even commuted with it from time to time, old wounds coming to haunt him as if the ghosts of the people he had killed appeared before him. The dead were never that grateful, but he sure hoped they were. That night, he was merciless. Saw them scream in agony as life abandoned them by force, blood still stuck to a few strands of his long hair. They didn't do a good job of combing it. Blond streaks decorating his chest, like bandages.

"You're awake."

Prosciutto turned to see the white curtains pulled apart as the Boss entered his room. He was smiling out of courtesy but the gentleness of his walk towards him calmed him down. He was there as a friend. Prosciutto scoffed.

"Still feel like shit though."

"You slept for a while."

"Did I?" Prosciutto honestly couldn't remember. But the Boss wouldn't lie. He looked tired, even worse than he did. He probably didn't sleep at all.

"You did. You needed to."

"It was kinda difficult, you know..." Prosciutto patted the top of the bed and was reminded of the leg he lost. Armigio cut it clean in an instant, the bastard didn't even let him react. Bruno's expression didn't change, there was just a change of light inside his eyes coming from his pupils. Prosciutto snickered.

"Stop looking at me that way, Bruno. You know I hate pity."

"I don't pity you."

"You better."

He knew only a fool would bite the hand that feeds, but Bruno didn't flinch. There was going to be no answer from him.

"Is the kid ok?"

As expected, he didn't answer that question either.

"He got it bad, huh."

"We managed to stabilize him but they couldn't promise he would make it." A tinge of fear came from the Boss's voice. It sounded strange coming from him, but Prosciutto could agree that even though death was nothing new for them, having it so close to home was nerve-wracking, to say the least.

"They say infections could appear at any time. So they have to keep him in check."

Prosciutto nodded slightly, unable to believe the kid could be gone for real. When he got to him he wasn't conscious at all, barely breathing but with a warmth on his skin that didn't belong there. As if his body was clinging to life, even if his mind started to dissipate into nothing.

"Did Giorno heal him?"

"If he didn't he wouldn't be alive."

There was no other option for Mista because Bruno wouldn't have been able to stop Giorno even if he wanted to. As the doctors started treating his wounds, Giorno entered the room with his eyes covered in a veil of tears. They didn't even have to tell him for him to start. As Gold Experience left his body before he touched Mista, Giorno reached to the depths of his soul to look for some anchors, something to keep himself together. Bruno could see that he found absolutely nothing except the cold of those hands he was touching. And he held to them for dear life, tighter than he ever thought he would.