Chapter Text
It seemed just as yesterday that Pantalone had seen Dottore, wearing that sly smirk, teasing him, asking for more funds. The more he thought the more he became nauseous.
A few days have passed since the loss of Dottore. No one, other than Pierro, had seen Pantalone outside of his quarters. As any close… friend, Pantalone would like to think, he had been grieving. Currently in the first stage, denial.
He had been sobbing previously, barely containing his composure as Pierro knocked on the door, letting himself in.
They sat themselves down around the coffee table.
“Pierro, has the autopsy come back?” The glassed man said, weakly.
“Yes. He is confirmed to be deceased.”
Deceased.
Pantalone hated the word used in such ways. Especially used towards Dottore.
A heavy silence was brought out between the two. Both cared about the man, more than the other Harbingers. Pierro saw most of them as his own, always checking up on them regularly.
Pantalone saw Dottore as the one he loved most. The first he ever felt such ways with another man. He had always been forced to love women, especially when he had to marry into a family in order to save his family from poverty. But now he was able to love Dottore freely, no judgment ever being held between the others.
Although now realizing, Pantalone will never be able to tell him how he felt towards Dottore. He didn’t want to believe it, why did he even ask for his autopsy when he knew the answer was the one he didn’t want to hear?
Pantalone started crying again, silently, staring at his cup of tea that had made previously. He took off and held his glasses to the side as he wiped off the tears, soaking the glove that he wore. Pierro stood up, walking over to Pantalone’s chair, leaned down and hugged him. This wasn’t the first time they embraced, they hugged so often recently, Pantalone not getting sick of the comfort he was offered as he needed it, desperately. He wrapped his arms around Pierro, his coat sliding off his shoulders, body hiccupping as more tears spilled out of him.
He felt pathetic, he hated every part of this.
They let go after Pantalone stopped crying. Pantalone slid his glasses back on, noting to wash his face as he hated the feeling of dried tears.
“When… will the funeral be?”
“The Tsaritsa is currently planning that it will be held this Friday.”
“... Thank you.”
“What for?”
“For informing me, and… taking care of me.” The Regrator felt shameful for even having to be taken care of. He had always taken care of himself, being cared for in such a way was so foreign to him before he became a Harbinger, and he still wasn’t used to it.
"I almost feel obligated to, so don't thank me. I'm simply doing what I think is best." Pierro gave a small smile to Pantalone, welcomed back with a weak smile from the other.
"I must be going now though, take care Pantalone." The taller man stood up and left, leaving Pantalone and his now cold tea.
He still didn't want to accept the reality. Days went on as Friday came closer, he had grown from his bed ridden days and started working but it wasn't enough to distract him. The man lived in denial but every waking moment in the palace reminded him more of the truth. He had to get out of there.
For the next few days, Pantalone spent his days in Mondstadt. The Goth Grand Hotel was his favorite, spending his days there before the funeral. He also found himself, unexpectedly, at Angel's Share. He had grown quite fond of the wine there, sneaking away in the upper stairs corner every time he went.
Those days soon ended though as Friday had come.