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Twice a month when their schedules perfectly align, Buccellati arranges a bonding activity of sorts for their dorm house. When Giorno asked her why she does that Buccellati just says, “To vent stress and mend relationships. I don’t want to go home one day and find myself short on tenants just because you fought over the remote again.”
Giorno’s only a freshman. She hasn’t been staying at Golden House for that long but she kind of gets where Buccellati is coming from. Between Fugo’s temperament, Narancia and Mista’s penchant for trouble and Abbachio’s need to stoke fires, it’s a wonder that the house is still standing today.
So bonding activities. Last time Abbachio took them to the opera and proceeded to spend the next hours pretending she doesn’t know them so she doesn’t get kicked out by security for making too much noise. The time before that Narancia took them to an airplane museum, which should have been calm and peaceful if she didn’t try to climb one of the exhibits to see “if I can get this thing going.” After this one, Giorno’s planning to take them to a Japanese garden in Sapienza, hoping for something quiet and relaxing.
This time around Mista takes them ice skating. It’s less because she is interested in the activity and more because she wanted to show up her self-proclaimed rival from the Squadra House.
“Bitch made a bet that I couldn’t even take two steps without face-planting,” Mista grumbles as they pile out of the house, decked in winter gear. “I’ll show her. Nara’s gonna film me, we’ll send it to Ghiacco and I’ll be buying us dinner next week.”
As far as Giorno knows, Mista has never gone ice skating in her life, but her giddy optimism is one of the things she loves about her so she doesn’t comment on it. She just hopes Buccellati still keeps that first-aid kit in the trunk.
Buccellati’s van is parked right at the curb. It looks like something a soccer mom with five kids would drive. As Trish, Narancia and Mista fight over who gets to ride shotgun, Giorno thinks that comparison isn’t too far off.
Fugo has already commandeered the back seats. Giorno feels her own inner child kick in. She shoves Abbachio aside from the door as she climbs in the back to take the seat next to her.
“Brat,” Abbachio hisses. Giorno flashes her a not-so apologetic grin before laying her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder.
Fugo looks bemused. “That wasn’t necessary. You sitting next to me is a given. Girlfriend privileges.”
“Then, why isn’t Abbachio riding shotgun next to Buccellati?”
“Because Trish is a fucking cheater!” Narancia gripes from the middle seat. “She stepped on my toes with her ugly as fuck Uggs!”
Trish gives her the middle finger as she snugly curls up in the passenger seat, bright pink Uggs flashing. “But also, I’m Abbachio’s favorite so she wouldn’t dare kick me out what’s rightfully mine.”
Abbachio murmurs something they don’t quite catch. She’s stuck in between Narancia and Mista in the middle seats, the only barrier between the two rowdiest people in their friend group. Giorno almost feels something for her. Almost. As it is, Fugo’s warm presence is dissuading any guilt she might feel.
“If I let you choose the music if you promise not to murder them,” Buccellati says from the driver’s seat, ever the mediator and so soft against Abbachio.
Abbachio chooses Mozart out of spite against Narancia and Mista who groans while Trish smiles from the front seat.
Giorno tugs on Fugo’s arm until she gets the message. She curls their arms together, hands twined on her lap.
“Ever been skating before?” Giorno asks as they start moving.
“Once or twice with my brothers before they left for college. You?”
“Never. I’ll be fine.”
Fugo snorts, then covers her mouth in embarrassment. Giorno finds it cute. “Says every beginner.”
“I have the utmost confidence that I won’t fall.”
Giorno is right. At the very least she doesn’t fall, but that’s only because she’s too buys hanging on to the side railings for her dear life. Her feet are wobbling in her rented skates, scratching against the surface of the ice even when she’s trying to stand still.
The skating rink isn’t particularly crowded given that it’s almost the end of winter. As predicted, Mista trips on her face when she first stepped in. Narancia and Trish both bowled over in laughter. Buccelatti tried to help her up but ended in an awkward split on the eyes, causing the other two to laugh harder. The only one who’s faring decently is Fugo as she circles around the rink without even breaking a sweat.
“Karma is a fucking bitch.”
“Sorry. I can’t hear you from down there.”
Abbachio has evidently given up, sitting on her ass on the surely cold and hard surface of the rink without a care in the world.
“That can’t be comfortable.”
“Better than trying and making a fool of myself like those idiots.” With a screech, Narancia trips and drags Trish down with her.
She has a point. Giorno almost wants to follow suit and join her on the ice, but she’s nothing if not a perfectionist. She removes one hand from the railing cautiously, feet wobbling dangerously.
Abbachio pulls out her phone and points it at her.
Giorno’s smile goes tight in the most polite “fuck you” she can muster. She knows how Mista feels now, wanting to prove Ghiacco wrong, not out of actual desire to learn but out of spite.
Fugo is still skating around the rink. She’s not professional by any means but unlike the rest of them she has yet to fall on her butt. Giorno stares at her in her red puffy jacket, matching her strawberry earrings and the strawberry printed scarf Giorno got her for Christmas. Her pale blonde hair is whipping in the wind, loose from its usual ponytail. She catches Gioro’s gaze and she lifts a hand up in a wave.
Forget spite, Giorno just wants to skate next to her girlfriend without looking like a fool. With that picture in her mind, she steels herself and slowly, finally lifts her other hand from the railing.
For one brief moment, everything is perfect, but overconfidence has always been one of her flaws. In a matter of seconds, she goes from being on top of the world to having it tilted as she careens forward.
This is it. This is how she dies. She’s gonna fall and crack her head on the ice. Abbachio will upload the video on the Internet and Giorno won’t be able to show her face at school. She’s gonna have to move back to Japan, change her name again and move in with her burly cousins with the hat obsession and the funny hair.
She lands on something soft and squishy. Arms are secured around her waist. Giorno looks up and sees Fugo smiling down at him.
Moving to Japan is looking more appealing now.
“Boo!” Abbachio says, lowering her phone. “That’s so boring. I wanted to see her fall on her face, Pannacotta.”
“Not on my watch.” It’s a simple line, but it sets Giorno’s heart stumbling. “Come on, I’ll teach you.”
They leave Abbachio to her own devices. Giorno is clasping Fugo’s hand in hers as the other hand fumbles down the railing. She’s a steady presence, catching Giorno if she so much as stumbles.
“Hold on to me until you feel like you’re stable.”
“Oh no. I don’t think I’ll ever be stable,” Giorno says sarcastically just to see Fugo turn pink. She’s so cute. Giorno’s heart is melting.
“Shut it. Bend your knees a little bit, but keep you back straight. Point your toes in an outward V-shape.” Giorno does as she’s told. She yelps as her feet glide forward on her own. Fugo steadies her with a hand on her shoulder and another around her waist.
“Don’t drop me.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t you fucking drop me, Pannacotta Fugo.”
Fugo grins, shakes in place and removes her hands from her. Giorno yells, doesn’t care if the rest of her friends hear her. Fugo is laughing as she places her hands back on Giorno to guide her.
“Sorry.”
“You’re not.”
Fugo kisses her cheek.
“You’re forgiven.”
Once they’re away from most of the crowd, Fugo holds both of Giorno’s hands in hers, warmth emanating from where their skins meet.
“I’m gonna skate backwards-”
“Because of course you can.”
“-and I want you to lift your feet one at a time and just step on the ice.” Fugo demonstrates, stomping on the ice. “Forget looking pretty. Let’s just get you moving without you falling on your butt.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“And for the record, you always look pretty.”
It’s Giorno’s turn to blush. “Gee, thanks.”
For a while they just circle around the rink like that-Fugo skating backwards in practiced motions while Giorno stomps around. It reminded her of when she and her brother Donnatello used to act as the monsters and chase Ungalo and Rykiel around when they were kids.
They go around for two laps like that. Fugo is softly encouraging her as Giorno slowly learns to look up from her feet and up at Fugo’s eyes instead. She’s always liked how deep red they are like strawberries, how they spark every time she banters with Mista and Narancia, how Fugo’s eyeliner is a little uneven. Giorno works herself up to a distraction that she doesn’t notice Fugo subtly leading them away from the railings and more towards the center.
Once she does, Giorno lets out an undignified squeak. No more railings to catch her, just vast white space and Fugo.
“Sorry,” Fugo says immediately, noticing her discomfort. “You were doing so well. I wanted to see if you could do it without any hand-holding.”
Giorno panics briefly, holds Fugo’s hands tighter. “Don’t let go of me.”
Fugo’s expression shifts. “Never.”
There’s a deeper meaning beneath her words. Giorno has never felt her love for her as palpable as it is that moment. Away from all the skaters who stick close to the railing, Giorno feels like they’re in their own world made up of only her and Fugo. Their breaths are warm and misty in the cold air. They move closer together, skates moving in between each other’s on the ice. Fugo’s gaze is soft, happy and filled with love. Giorno wants her to look like that forever. She closes her eyes and leans forward, feels Fugo’s warm breath on her face.
There’s a scream as Narancia barges into them. The moment is ruined as Fugo stumbles, trying to keep both of their balance and save them from a cold, icy fate.
Fugo snaps,” What the hell Narancia?!”
“Mista pushed me!” Across the ice Mista curses her out, earning strange looks from the other skaters. “Bucci wanted me to get you. They want to go get food now but I think they’re just worried about Abbachio’s ass.”
Right outside the rink, Buccelatti is guiding a visibly shivering Abbachio to sit down at a bench. Ice is clinging to her pants. Buccelatti brushes them away as she bends down to untie her skates for her.
“Okay we get it. Now shoo.”
Narancia sticks her tongue out at Fugo before she skates-stumbles her way to the exit.
“I guess we should go,” Fugo says, starting to head for the exit. She’s stopped by a tug on her wrist. “Giogio?”
“Guide me to the exit.”
“But I thought you can walk now with no problem?”
“Narancia bumped into me. I have amnesia now. I forgot all your lessons.”
Fugo holds back a laugh. “Gio, that’s not how amnesia works.”
“Spoilsport.” Giorno fake pouts, earning a real laugh from her this time. “I just want to hold your hand longer. I’m claiming my girlfriend privileges.”
“How can I say ‘no’ to that?” Fugo wraps his arms around Giorno’s waist, while the other holds her hand tightly, fingers winding around each other’s. Giorno lays a hand on Fugo’s hand on her waist. They look like they’re dancing.
Maybe she should reconsider her garden plan for next time’s bonding activity and take her friends out dancing. It will give her an excuse to hold Fugo again.
They skate their way to the exit together where the rest of their friends wait. From what Giorno can see, their noses are red from the cold, bits of ice clinging to their clothes from where they fell.
For all the near falls they’ve taken, Giorno hasn’t landed on her butt the whole day. She considers her first time skating a success.
As they step from ice to the padded floor, Giorno loses her balance on her skates and takes Fugo down with her by the scarf.
Her friends burst out laughing. Abbachio gets it on video.
Giorno considers the Japan trip again. But this time, she’ll take Fugo with her.