𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ⚠︎ 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧⚠︎

❤︎𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞❤︎

The clock above your head read 3:17 am. You were sitting in front of the canvas with a spent look on your face. You had light dark circles starting under your eyes and you would occasionally rub them. Your legs were folded under you as you sat on the floor, the tile flooring cooling your warmed skin. You couldn't sleep because of the bandages on your side and arm. At least, that's what you told Narancia who had seen you leave your room. In reality, you couldn't sleep because of the guilt swirling in your stomach. You had made everyone worry because of what you did. People were going to start getting hurt now.

Aggravated by the bandages, you dropped your brush and took them off. Your side had a mix of blue, purple, red, and yellow bruising, and your arm still had a small scar. You tugged your shirt back down and wiped a hand over your face. Using your stand was risky. You still couldn't believe you had even done it. It shocked you that you were even able to be so calm while you used it. Normally, you were unable to keep your facade while you called on it. Those men were probably stand users like their friend. You had risked them seeing your stand, even if you thought they were gone. You would be lying if you said you weren't nervous and scared. You didn't want anything bad to happen to the others, especially since you received that text message. You knew that time was running down and that there was only a certain amount of time before you would have to disappear again. You didn't want them drug into your affairs. You didn't want them to know who you actually were.

You looked up as footsteps came down the hall, your shoulders tensing as you slowly put the brushes in your hand down. You watched the doorway, watching as someone came closer until they were standing in the doorway. You turned my head away from Bucciarati looked down at you in surprise.

"Y/n.." He mumbled. "What are you doing up?"

"Painting," You replied in a quiet voice.

"Are you in pain?" He glanced at the bottle of Ibuprofen sitting on the floor beside your canvas.
"No."

"Why are you painting?" He asked, walking inside.

"I can't sleep." He was silent for a moment before he sat down on the stool off to the side.
"I'm sorry."

"For?" You raised your eyebrow in question as you swiped a bright red onto the canvas and the adjusted the lamp you had pointed to it. "Yelling and blowing up at me earlier? Don't worry about it. I understand that you were upset. You don't want anything bad to me and you believe I'm a target for stand attacks. You're mad at yourself because you left me home alone and I was defenseless at the time. I get it. I'm not mad at you."
He stood up and sat beside you instead, resting his arms on his legs.

"We were all at it because we received a threat towards you. Everyone was already on edge about you almost getting kidnapped and no one was listening to what the other person had to say. Giorno and I decided to have someone at your side at all times. If you leave, someone will be with you. If we leave, one person will be left behind."

"I'm not a child, Bucciarati." You said, glancing at him in the corner of your eye. "I can take care of myself. I don't need a band of bodyguards."

"I know. I know that you are more than capable of handling yourself, but it would make us all feel better. Just don't do anything stupid enough to get yourself killed." He said, flicking his dark blue eyes to you. You could see the concern and guilt residing in them.

"Is that a request, or an order?" You asked, turning your head to face him.

"Will you listen to it if its a request?"

"I think you know the answer to that." You whispered, locking eyes with him.

"Than it's an order." He said.

"Alright," You said. "Then I'll do it. I won't do anything stupid."

You'll just be smart about it.

"Thank you." He said, standing up and held his hand out. "Coming?"

"I still have things I need to work on," You said, brushing him off.

"..alright. Don't stay up too much later." He said awkwardly before turning and leaving your studio. You waited until he was upstairs until you stood up and locked the door, pulling the curtains shut, and sat back down in front of your canvas. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath and released it as you opened your eyes.

"Is there a reason you've summoned me?" It asked, its presence making you shudder. You turned the lamp to shine behind you.

"I want you to find whoever has been tracking us."

"The gangsters?" It asked, walking around to stand in front of you beside your canvas. Its body flowed behind it like it was a mist.

"No."

"You mean the people who try to kill us every year." It said, eyes narrowing.

"Yes. Find them and let them know we will not be going down this time." You said.

"And you think they'll listen to you, Astarte?" It scoffed.

"I would think they would," You stood up as your eyes burned into your stand's. "They should know not to mess with a goddess."

"I'd hardly call you a goddess. More of a demon if you ask me." It responded.

"I gave you an order. Go do it." You sighed.

"As you wish," It bowed its head before vanishing within the shadows.

You sighed and looked back at the canvas, losing interest in the paint sitting beside it. You tossed the tarp over it and properly put your supplies away before turning the lamp off and leaving the room. When you looked at the clock, it was just turning five am. You decided today would be a day you would start early. You started cleaning the house, sweeping the floors, doing the dishes leftover, wiping down the furniture, and taking everyone's laundry. At seven am, you took a shower as everyone starting getting up.

You were going to continue to live in secret as long as you could.

They couldn't know who you really were.

Not yet at least.