𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 ⚠︎ 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧⚠︎

❤︎𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧❤︎

Crash after crash, bang after bang; the sounds of furniture breaking, glass shattering and things thudding against the floor down the hall was the only thing they could hear.

"He's throwing a tantrum," Fugo muttered, rubbing the sides of his head. "He's throwing a literal tantrum as if he were a five-year-old who got his toy taken away."

"It wasn't his toy, but his partner, that was taken," Trish sighed, looking down the hall worriedly.

"You have to remember that Y/n and Giorno have been the closest since she joined," Mista said. "They're best friends."

"I know that," Fugo huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's just annoying!"

"Someone needs to calm him down," Mista murmured. "He's going to end up hurting himself."

"I ain't going in there," Narancia said, shaking his head as his face paled in fear. "Last time I tried to, he threatened to use Requiem on me. I'm not doing it,"

"Really, the only one who could calm him down would be Bucciarati. They've spent enough time together." Trish said.

"He's at the hospital with Abbachio," Fugo said. "They're investigating Y/n's room for clues on who might have taken her."

"Good idea," Mista nodded. "Abbachio can use Moody Blues to look back to when she was captured."

"He's eventually gonna run out of things to break," Narancia said slowly as another crash sounded from down the hall, making them all wince. "Right?"

"And I thought Fugo was the hot-head blonde," Trish mumbled.

"I was," He growled, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Mista asked.

"To call Bucciarati. This is enough."

..

The blonde slammed his hands down on the table, knocking the pencils from the jar they had been placed in. His furious green eyes raced over the photos on the desk, the ones of Y/n.

"Where the hell are you?" He asked through grit teeth.

"Giorno," The door opened as Bucciarati walked in, his eyes immediately falling upon the mess of the office. The file cabinets were open, files and papers scattered around it, the bookshelf was thrown on the ground, the chairs were slung across the room.

"What?" The blonde snapped, standing straight as he brushed his hair from his face.

Bucciarati held up a manila envelope. "We need to discuss these."

"What the hell is it?" He asked, eyebrows furrowing together and Bucciarati walked inside the room, avoiding the papers as Sticky Fingers came out to pick up the mess.

"Security footage from Y/n's hospital room," He explained, handing the envelope to him. "Open it."

Giorno frowned at him, but did as told, fumbling with the top before he slid the pictures out. He could see his hands shaking as he looked through the photos. He felt his stomach churn at the last photo. Y/n was standing there, slipping a jacket on as a shadow-like figure stood in front of her, holding a band out to her.

"What?" He whispered, shifting through the rest. Each of them was of Y/n and this figure. The very last photo that was there, was of Y/n climbing out of the window.

"We were tricked, Giorno." Bucciarati said.

"These...can't be..right," Giorno said. "These had to be staged..or..tampered with! This isn't real."