paradisa | 6 Famiglie~ [Accidentally Dictated]

[Giotto had woken up and he had known something was wrong immediately when he had looked at his hands and had seen the words on his knuckles and the familiar number on the palm of his hand. He had discovered his eye and the crest on his head a few minutes later, along with the blood flecks that bled through his clothes. Giotto had tried to scrub it all off, but it had stubbornly stayed imprinted on his skin. All he could think of was the castle had done this, and checking the journal, he found out that he wasn't the only one.

Currently he was trying to get dressed, and his clothes seemed to never fix, no matter what he did to them. His shirt stubbornly stayed wrinkled, his hair a mess, and red pinpricks of blood kept seeping through his shirt. His mismatched eyes stared back at him, and his hands shook as he tried to fix his tie (the eye seemed familiar, but he couldn't seem to place it). How had it even known exactly what his regrets and shames were? He didn't advertise it, he wouldn't admit to half of these things. It unnerved him, that a castle had this much power, to send him trembling and full of guilt and shame.

He couldn't even stand to look at himself right now. Angrily and feeling helpless, he kicked the mirror hard, cracking it.]

Damn it.

[He cut across to his desk, leaving the mirror, and quickly dictated a filter.]

I'm sorry, bambino, but I don't think we're going to have lessons today. [Tsuna couldn't, and shouldn't have to, see him like this.]

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[He doesn't say anything. Had he truly given up? Was there anything he could even do anymore to make this better? He had already made a mess of everything. He knew Daemon would probably kill him if he didn't change his ways, it was only a matter of time. He was to blame, in a way, for Elena's death. Giotto was weak, and Daemon wanted a strong Vongola. if Giotto wouldn't change, he would replace him. Apparently he lived long enough to marry and have a child, but after that he knew that he could die at any time.]

[He winces a little, because that might have been too harsh, too direct a question.]

I-- I'm sorry. I'll leave now.

Don't be sorry. [He reaches over and absently ruffles Tsuna's hair, though his mind is a million miles away.]

Though you probably should go. I'm not quite good company right now.

[Tsuna feels so conflicted. A part of him wants to stay. He just wants to be here, so Giotto isn't left alone with these terrible regrets.

But then... all he really is is No-Good Tsuna. It's as plain as the mark on his forehead.

He gently grabs Giotto's hand off his head and squeezes it. It's the one with his mark on it, and he doesn't want to be another regret for Giotto. Even if he was terrified of the mafia, even if he wanted nothing to do with it...]

...It's not your fault.

[A small laugh, because it was. He was the one who started this Family, and it ended up destroying people. Destroying those he loved.]

If you say so, Tsuna.

It's not!

[He suddenly pulls back and looks up at Giotto, grief plain in his eyes.]

You can't do everything, Giotto! Nobody can! [He bites his lip.] They.. they might expect us to, they might expect me to, but...

[Where is he even going with this? He feels upset and just feels like he's redirecting this to himself. It hurts so much that he can't help Giotto. Giotto, his ancestor, who had become one of the people closest to him... His grandfather, his family.

He can't do anything, he's just No-Good Tsuna. The mark on his forehead feels like it's burning him. His voice sobers suddenly.]

.. sorry. I'm not helping anything.

[He turns to leave.]

[Giotto startles when Tsuna yells at him. Telling him he can't do everything, even though people might expect him to. It may be true, in a way, but that wasn't the issue. He watched as tsuna turned to leave, and then said quietly:]

Tsuna, it's not that I can't do everything, it's that I made the wrong choices and could do nothing to fix them. [A pause.] Make sure you make the right choices, bambino.

[Make the right choices?

Make the right choices?

How in the world is he supposed to know what the right choices are? For fuck's sake, he's only fifteen years old, and somehow he's destined to control a group that has such a huge influence over the activities all over the world?

What are the right choices?

His hands curl into fists beside him, before he opens the door and closes it quietly behind him with a "bye, Giotto."

And then he stands there for a moment.

Make sure you make the right choices, bambino.

Maybe Giotto ought to think about that mark on his forehead a little more.

He quietly walks away from the room.]

6 Famiglie~ [Accidentally Dictated]

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