"Trish" a soft voice spoke, careful hands found their way onto her lean shoulder. Offering a reassuring presence. Sea blue eyes onto his own, a light smile spread across her lips as they met, turning sour however at the next words.

"I'm sorry"

Tears, so many have come out today. But not as many as hers as loud, unbearable sobs escaped her body. She couldn't hold it within herself anymore, she wasn't strong like Giorno. Who could easily hide his feelings with a small facade. Like he had done so many times. Or Fugo who only let it out at the right times, kept strong for others. More or so, it can be debated.

"Shhh" he whispered, like honey dripping from a hive, this time two scarred hands gripped her shoulders as they sat on the cold tiles, sharing each-others pity. Wiping away her tears only to leave streaks of mascara behind, neither cared however, it wasn't the time for that.

"No" her manacured fingers lightly gripping his shoulder, barely a whisper as she stroked them.Glossed lips turned in on themselves, trying to hold back the wild sobs she desperately tried to suppress.

His  hand cupped her cheek as she leant into it. Relaxing herself more into the tiles, "no" pink hair shifting slightly as she denied herself.

"Theres nothing you can do now"

"Mista"

Blue on black as tearful eyes looked into his. Sliding her hands down his back, pulling him into an embrace as tight as she could get. Her body shook slowly as she cried, letting herself go in the embrace of a once person. Fingers covering still new bullet holes.

Letting go Trish placed her hands back on his shoulders as she leant back a little, getting a better look at the boy kneeling in-front of her, wiping her eyes. "We" she paused, collecting the thoughts scrambling through her  head. "We can just patch you up a little, yeah.." she felt confident in herself, taking in all seventeen bullet wounds, fresh crimson still leaking from the insides.

"Ive been gone for weeks"

"Trish"

Nothing. Silence. No-one.
Noone was infront of her like before, not even the slightest hint that anyone had been consoling her. Mascara tracks ran down her puffed cheeks, hands flat on the floor, supporting herself. A hand on the young girls shoulder, gripping softly.

"Sheila"

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I lied abt the rewrite, sry for making yall wait two months, kinda lost track of time 😬anyway this chapter is short because ive kinda run out of ideas of where i want this to go. The end goal is still fugio but like cmt some ideas or stuff youd like to see happen ig and ill do it