Chapter Text
It was finally over.
The time Giorno had been anticipating all his life, the moment he would take control of Passione’s reins of power, the moment the fulfilment of his dream would be set in actual motion. He had done it. He, along with what was left of his team, had defeated Diavolo. Passione now belonged to them. To him.
While it felt good to see his dream moving in the right direction, Giorno couldn’t help but feel...empty. He had anticipated deaths, of course, seeing as how they were in a very dangerous line of work. What he hadn’t expected was growing so close and attached to his team, and his dream had brought their downfall. He had brought their downfall.
If he could turn back time and change so many things, just so they could be here again, he would do it in a heartbeat.
Unfortunately, what’s done was done, and the only option was to move forward, as unknown as the future seemed.
Right now he’s comforting a broken Mista, who had come across Bucciarati’s corpse back in the Colosseum. Giorno didn’t blame him, honestly. The gunman had held on to the hope that even though he had lost two of his other teammates to the hands of Diavolo, with one other being who knows where, he could at least have the one he looked up to and respected the most coming out of this alive.
Giorno had thought the other’s wails had been scarring when Narancia died, but the sounds that came from Mista at that moment were downright unforgettable.
Giorno wished with all his heart he could cry with the gunman, to relieve his heavy heart and share his burdens, to show him that he wasn’t alone in this dark world they were entangled in. But for now, all he could do was hold him close, as reassuringly as he could, rubbing what he hoped were comforting circles on the gunman’s back. They had to get out of there soon, sadly enough. The city was beginning to wake up from the aftermath of Chariot Requiem’s ability, and the last thing they needed was to be asked questions they wouldn’t have the answers to.
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Trish had left.
It was understandable, in her defence. She had been dragged into a life she didn’t want, all because of a father she hadn’t even been aware of. She had her own life to live, and if she chose to have it far from Napoli, whether back in her home in Sardegna or even outside of Italy, that was entirely up to her.
Seeing as she was the daughter of the previous boss, not to mention an innocent party that had unwillingly gotten tangled in the whole situation, Giorno only found it fair to help her out in her decision, giving her a large amount of money from Diavolo’s - now Giorno’s - treasures, enough to be able to help her out with mobility and stability till she could pick herself up again.
At first, the girl had been reluctant, not wanting to have anything to do with her father’s riches or anything he touched, but with some persuasive words from Mista, she took the offering, thanking the other two profusely for everything and promising to try her best to keep in touch.
Although she had decided to step away from Passione businesses, she agreed to Giorno’s proposition to provide help in very special and very serious situations that would require someone like her. It was the least she could do.
Right now, however, Giorno was seated in the Don seat, which had previously belonged to Diavolo. All that had belonged to him was now Giorno’s - the power, authority, big and small treasures, every single thing. His legs crossed and hand outstretched, the blond was surrounded by different Caporegimes, a mix of eagerness, reluctance and terror in the air while queuing up to kiss the knuckles of who was supposedly the new Boss.
Of course, some had called bullshit on Giorno’s claim. After all, how could a teenager come out of nowhere and declare he was now the head of a fucking mafia family?
But with Giorno’s charisma and ability to ‘subtly’ inflict fear in the hearts of people, coupled with the absolute air of intimidation Mista and his gun oozed, and a few menacing showcases of Stand abilities while making examples of about two fervently anti-Giorno subordinates, it wasn’t long till Giorno was flooded with the respect and fear that came with being the Don.
Not like Giorno didn’t expect some attempts at overthrowing him in the future, but he would be ready for most of them. He was confident in that.
The rest of his body working like a machine, knowing when to bring forward and retract his hand for a kiss, Giorno looked up at his now Underboss, standing by the open window, his gun nestled in the front of his pants, a sign that any funny business and the person’s life would be over with the flick of the gunman’s wrist.
The blond made eye contact with him, giving a small smile as the other officials continued to kiss his hand. Giorno could also feel his own face heat up and hoped desperately that he wouldn’t turn red all over. He was very much aware of what he considered a ‘playful crush’ he had on the gunman, had it ever since the aftermath of Zucchero’s assault on the team when the brunet had agreed to his plan when all others seemed sceptical.
He hadn’t paid much attention to it, due to the seriousness of the mission that had been presented to the team, but Mista had definitely caught his interest, his concern for the gunman showing whenever he was in danger and went to a slight extra mile whenever he got hurt. It had taken the battle against Ghiaccio and 20 bullets to Mista’s body for Giorno to realize that he indeed had a crush on the gunman.
Coming back to the present, Giorno watched as Mista returned the smile, smaller than his usual boisterous toothy grins. But soon enough, Mista’s face slowly contorted into one of disdain, turning his head away sharply as he pursed his lips. Giorno was admittedly surprised by this, but thought of it to be nothing too serious, returning his attention to the seemingly never-ending line of Caporegimes.
As time went on, Giorno constantly cast glances in Mista’s direction, and whenever the two made eye contact once again, the latter would turn his head away, his expression a sombre one, as if he were actively trying to avoid Giorno’s gaze. Huh, strange, the blond thought to himself but pushed it to the back of his mind as the last of the other men kissed his knuckles.
As the last of the Caporegimes left, escorted out of Giorno’s office by Mista, the blond couldn’t help but feel a mix of fatigue and slight excitement. On one hand, no-one tried anything funny, not like they could with Mista’s imposing presence just behind them, ready for a slip-up of any kind; his dream seemed to be moving forward too, though slowly but surely.
On the other hand, he had some well-desired alone time with Mista, at least if he managed to ignore Polnareff/Coco Jumbo’s presence enough.
“I thought they would never stop, I’m exhausted,” said Giorno, stretching out his body as Mista made his way back to his side. That wasn’t entirely a lie, the blond was indeed tired, but he wasn’t bone-deep exhausted, just looked for something he could say to break the ice.
Giorno didn’t miss the nervous look on the gunman’s face, but not nervous in a good sense. He seemed borderline...uncomfortable, and Giorno wondered why but didn’t voice his concerns.
“Yeah...hey, Giorno, I think I’ll head out for some gelato. ‘Been craving it for a while now.” Mista said, pulling the collar of his turtleneck as if to let air into his body. “Would that be okay?”
“Of course, Mista. You don’t really have to ask for my permission. Come to think of it, do you think you could pick some up for me? I’d come personally but I have some things to look into as soon as possible.”
“Ahh, of course, chocolate’s your favourite, right?”
He remembered, Giorno smiled to himself, thinking back on the old conversations he’d had with the gunman and times they had gotten to know basic things about each other. It felt nice to know that Mista cared enough to remember an insignificant detail like that, or so he’d like to think. “That’s right, thanks a lot, Mista.”
“Don’t mention it,” Mista replied, rather tight-lipped as he speedily made his way out of the door, slamming it behind him and leaving Giorno in a new silence, leaving him to his thoughts.
Thinking back on the day, Giorno couldn’t help but remember the conversation he had had with the gunman a few days ago, moments after they had returned from the aftermath of their final mission. Giorno had given Mista the same opportunity Trish had, to leave Passione and the criminal underworld, to go back to the life he had before he ultimately ended up here, and of course, Giorno was ready and willing to help him out any way he needed.
Not like Giorno wanted Mista to leave, but the blond was stubborn enough to not admit that.
Mista had claimed that day that the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind, making mention of not knowing what would be waiting for him should he ever leave Passione. No family, no job, not even a romantic partner, considering the several dates he’d had in the past.
Giorno was especially glad about that bit, but Mista didn’t need to know that.
But what somehow crossed Giorno’s mind was how the gunman hadn’t exactly provided a solid, definite answer of any sort to the proposition, neither had he kissed the knuckles of the new Don, swearing his life, loyalty and everything to his rulership. Not like Giorno needed that to happen, the blond was resolute in the thought of him and Mista being inseparable, come hell or high water, especially after all they had gone through together.
So why did Giorno feel the ghost of worry creeping into him?
No matter, he had Mista and Mista had him, they would be as fine as they could be, despite their positions.
Giorno hadn’t even realized how much time he spent thinking until he heard his office door open once again. Turning, the blond noticed that the gunman had returned, a cup of chocolate gelato in a hand and an expression on his face that made him look like a love-struck puppy.
Oh?
“Mista?” The brunet seemed to snap out of his daze as he realized he had reached his intended destination, his face now breaking out into a wide grin. Well, that was a big change from his earlier mood.
“Giorno! Boss! The big-D!” exclaimed Mista, a bit too enthusiastically as he handed the blonde his gelato. Giorno was definitely interested in the sudden change in the gunman’s mood.
“What’s got you so excited, Mista?”
The older teen let out an exaggerated sigh as he focused on Giorno, “There’s this one person I met at the gelateria, fantastic sense of humour, beautiful smile, and legs for days. She was really sweet too, it felt too good to be true.”
Wait, she?
Giorno tried to remain indifferent as Mista went on, “I didn’t expect it, but she left me with her number, something about wanting to get to know me better. And guess what? She didn’t think I stunk! Take that, Trish!”
Ah yes, Mista seemed to still be caught up on the pink-haired girl’s comments on his body when they had swapped souls and had taken measures afterwards to ensure that was not the case. In his defence, he had been on the run for a week with no chance to rest, covered in blood, sweat, dirt and the occasional tears.
But that didn’t bother Giorno at the moment, he was more concerned about this mystery girl. Who is she? Do I know her? Will Mista give her a call?
The blond decided to voice that last question, to which Mista responded, “I mean, she seems like a pretty nice chick and all, maybe I could give her a call and see where things go with it, y’know? Test the waters.”
No, Giorno didn’t know and didn’t want to know. If it didn’t involve himself with Mista, he didn’t care. But of course, the blond couldn’t just say that. He had to be supportive of his friend and crush. So with a false smile he had come to pull off so naturally, the blond nodded at the other.
“Of course, she sounds marvellous.”
“Man, I hope so. You know, I think I’ll go think of what to say before giving her a call later. Can’t call now, don’t wanna come off as desperate,” the brunet chuckled, softly elbowing Giorno in the side. The blond gave no reaction, merely choosing to look at the gelato slowly melting in his hand. “Catch you later, Giorno!”
And with that, the gunman made his way out of the blond’s office, a slight bounce in his steps from the developments of the day.
Giorno suddenly had no appetite for the gelato, or for anything else for that matter.
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Giorno had expected his little ‘crush’ on the gunman to go away, dismissing it as nothing but a phase that had taken too long to stop. Oh, how wrong he had been.
The more time Giorno spent around Mista, or even without his presence there, merely just thinking of him, the deeper he found out his ‘crush’ had gone. The blond couldn’t even call it ‘little’ anymore, as just the thought of Mista made his head spin, his stomach feeling like it was bombarded with butterflies, and his skin turning as red as the blood that flowed within him.
After much thought, Giorno concluded that he, indeed, had it bad for the gunman.
The duo, alongside Polnareff, had managed to secure an iron grip on Passione and the influence it held, merely 6+ months after the takeover. Word had spread, and word had spread fast, on the new Boss and the plans he had begun execution on, all pointing to ensuring that a significant part of the drug trade would be terminated.
Of course, people had tried to rebel, but Giorno made sure to use them as scapegoats to show what happens when his authority was questioned, and boy did everyone get the message, Giorno and Mista had made sure of that.
Speaking of Mista, the blond could feel himself heat up at the thought of him once again, but this time not in the way it usually did. Mista’s life outside Passione activities seemed to be getting...lively again, and it was all due to that new girlfriend of his. The same one he had met in the gelateria all those months ago.
Sophia. That was her name. Not like Giorno could care any less about that or anything that had to do with her.
It was starting to get a bit painful for the blond, having to pretend like he cared whenever Mista spoke of her in such high praises. He cared about the gunman, of course, a hundred per cent, but he just didn’t care for his girlfriend at all.
And despite being able to, Giorno didn’t bother using his vast resources to get more info on the girl, at least more info than Mista blabbered about, but the blond didn’t have the heart to just tell him to shut up. He had Mista’s happiness above his, and if talking about Sophia made him happy, then so be it.
As painful as it was.
And it wasn’t just in terms of the girl, Giorno wished he would be talked about by Mista like that. Rarely these days did the gunman praise Giorno’s abilities, Stand and non, as he did back in those days of being a newbie. The gunman and Sophia had been a couple for about 5 months but somehow, the brunet seemed to find new things to talk about concerning her, and the conversations they had always somehow managed to worm its way back to her.
Giorno was sick of it, and he reasoned anyone else would be too in his place.
Bless the soul of Pannacotta Fugo, who had managed to get caught in the crossfire several missions ago. He had, frankly, looked terribly unkempt, but worse than that he looked lonely. He had been a mess of emotions when he set his sights on the blond and the gunman, eagerly requesting to see Narancia and the rest of the group once again.
It had been a very heart-wrenching moment informing the boy of their fates.
Despite that, Fugo had been compelled to return with Giorno and Mista, to not make the same mistake he made all that time ago, and to live his life paying tribute to the ones he had lost, the ones he felt he had let down.
To say Mista had been reluctant to let the strawberry-blond back into their circle would be an understatement. The gunman had been absolutely livid, hellbent on not having anything to do with him. (Un)fortunately for him, it didn’t last so long, as the two managed to have a civil one-on-one conversation and after some tears and ‘playful’ punches, the two reignited the spark of their once friendship.
Now Fugo was working under Giorno’s command, once again in his inner circle, acting as an Advisor and handling several aspects that required someone of his intelligence. And because he was back, he wasn’t immune to Mista’s constant ramblings on Sophia.
“I swear if he speaks about that chick one more time, I’ll break his legs with no hesitation.”
Giorno chuckled from where he sat, Fugo on the other seat across him, empty cups of tea settled on the table that separated them, just under the awning of the medium-sized building. They had decided to have a quick break after paying the owner of the cafe a visit, said owner being scared shitless at the recognition of who had come into his building.
“I’m sure he means no harm, Fugo. Besides, I’ve heard more from him about this lady than you have, and I’ve tolerated him fairly so far. I’m sure you’ll survive.”
Fugo gave the blond in front of him an incredulous look, which started to transform to a smirk as a waitress had come by to pick up the empty cups, bowing at the two men before leaving swiftly. After a few moments, Fugo leaned forward and decided to speak.
“So, when are you finally gonna stop clowning around and tell this special person about your real feelings?”
Giorno visibly seized up but quickly regained his composure, trying his best to remain indifferent, but Fugo could see past his mask, his smirk turning into a shit-eating grin.
“I do not have feelings for Mista.”
“I didn’t mention Mista’s name or any name for that matter.”
Well shit.
Fugo burst into laughter as he watched Giorno’s eyes widen, the latter muttering under his breath as he discovered he’d been fooled. “How’d you know?”
“Y-you’re not exactly subtle, Giorno” wheezed Fugo, calming down from his bout of laughter. “Don’t you think you should tell him?”
“No.”
Fugo rolled his eyes at the quick and firm answer. Giorno Giovanna, Passione’s feared and powerful Don, doer of several unspeakable things, and he couldn’t even face a stupid crush. Giorno felt embarrassed, wanting to push this conversation as far behind him as he possibly could.
“You know, you’re not even the worst part of this whole thing. That would be Mista, how does he not see that you have a thing for him?”
Giorno let out a sigh. “I don’t know, neither do I want to know. As long as he’s happy with that girlfriend of his, I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem to be such a huge fan of her,” Fugo teased.
I despise her, but Giorno kept that thought to himself, not wanting to voice his strong dislike for the one who had the heart of the gunman. “I’m not a fan of everyone I don’t trust, you of all people should know this, considering our positions.”
Fugo hummed, seeming to think over what the other blond had said. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again, this time a tinge of seriousness in his tone.
“I really, really think you should speak to Mista about your feelings, Giorno.”
The Don was puzzled at the insistence on speaking to Mista on this topic, especially after voicing his preference not to. “Why are you so insistent on this-”
“HEY!!”
The two blonds turned their heads toward the source of the booming voice, ready to summon their Stands if necessary. They fell somewhat at ease as they recognized the form of the voice’s owner, making out the familiar colours and patterns of that special blue and red ensemble, along with that unmistakable pair of tiger-print pants.
Mista was here. Mista was coming over, a huge smile on his face. Mista...was not alone.
Fugo squinted at the person next to Mista, their hands intertwined, their steps borderline in sync. A lady, beautiful brown hair bouncing behind her as she made her way over to their position alongside Mista. When they got up close, Fugo could make out blue eyes, surprisingly full of life and...something else Fugo couldn’t place his finger on. Her smile looked way too big - no, forced for her face, taking note of the little twitches at the corners of her mouth and squinted eyes.
The air around her was unsettling, and it was safe to say Fugo felt very uncomfortable.
He could probably say the same about Giorno, quickly throwing a glance at the other to gauge his reaction. Giorno was as expressionless as could be, settling for a face lodged in-between that of a friendly civilian and a cold-hearted Don. Ahhh, this should be entertaining…
“Hey guys, fancy seeing you here! Oh shit, meet my girl.” Mista gushed, raising a hand to present the girl next to him, who was now clinging to him like she was holding onto a pole in the middle of a hurricane. “Babe, these are my friends. Guys, meet Sophia.”
“It’s so nice to meet you!” the most irritating, high-pitched voice Fugo could ever think of spoke out and the strawberry-blond internally cringed at it, fearing the decibels would shatter his eardrums. Her accent sounded foreign, despite speaking Italian fluently.
Before Fugo could speak up, he heard the voice of his lunch buddy speak up. “Ah, yes. The infamous girlfriend. I’ve heard plenty about you.”
Fugo felt his eyes widen as he looked in Giorno’s direction once again, the latter’s face not betraying the venom Fugo was able to detect in his voice. Turning back to Mista, the strawberry-blond guessed he might have noticed it as well, watching as the gunman’s face fell slightly.
“Only good things, I hope!”
“Hmm.” Giorno hummed, his mask of indifference not cracking a single bit under the chirpiness of the girl’s voice. Before the increasingly awkward silence could drag on any further, Fugo cleared his throat, which seemed to get Mista’s gears turning again as he suddenly perked up.
“Sophia’s a nursing student studying in Italy, but she’s originally from Belgium. Been in Italy for the past 5 years and I just so happened to run into her months ago. Lucky for me since she’s graduatin’ real soon” Mista slung an arm across the girl’s shoulders, or at least tried to, considering how physically clingy the girl seemed.
Ah, Belgian. That answered Fugo’s internal questions concerning her accent.
“Guido’s been such a sweetheart, and he treats me so well. I’m so glad we met!”
Fugo listened to his guts and glanced at Giorno once more, watching as the other’s eyebrows furrowed oh-so-slightly. Must’ve been because she called him Guido.
“I’m sure that’s the case,” Giorno said, disguising the stiffness of his voice in the dragging of his chair backwards as he stood. “As pleasant as this moment is, I’m afraid I have some business to attend to.”
“Oh, are you a student as well? Or do you have a job-?”
Was this girl looking for a death wish? Did she not know who Giorno was, despite living here in Napoli?
“Ahh, Sophia! Remember we have to get going as well…?” Mista butted in immediately, mostly due to the nature of what they do, not to mention he, as well as Fugo, had noticed the blond’s fist clench almost immediately at the question.
“Ohhh, of course~” giggled Sophia, playfully patting Mista on the chest. She turned her focus back to the two other men. “It was really nice meeting you, uh…”
“...Fugo.”
“Fugo! And um…?” Sophia asked, turning her focus to Giorno, who was growing more and more irritated by the second.
“...Haruno.”
“What pretty names! It was nice meeting you, Fugo and Haruno! Come on, baby, it’s time for that shopping trip you promised me!” Sophia tugged on Mista’s arm quite harshly, already leading the gunman away, her voice adopting a tone akin to that of a baby. Giorno resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
“I’ll see you guys later!” Mista called out as he let himself be pulled by his girlfriend, leaving the two blonds alone once again. The intensity of the atmosphere had begun to cool down, Giorno releasing a heavy sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose, Fugo casting him a questioning look.
“Fugo?”
“Oh yeah, something’s absolutely up with that lady,” Fugo said almost immediately as if reading his boss’s thoughts. Moments passed before the strawberry-blond spoke up again, rising from his seat as well. “Why did you decide to use your real name?”
He, alongside Mista and Giorno himself, had come to learn of the blond’s familial background and bits of his past, following a visit from who was supposedly a relative of Giorno’s from Japan, as well as a very old friend of Polnareff’s.
“Everything concerning that identity is far behind me and dead. Hoping it’s not too late to add something to the list.”
Fugo snickered at the other’s insinuation, oh he’s got it baaad, he had thought to himself. Fugo couldn’t say he cared about the girl, but he did care about her boyfriend, and her sudden disappearance could raise suspicions. There were certain times Mista’s perception of things were exceptional, and unless he was blinded or distracted by something else, he would easily pick up on something being wrong.
Fugo just hoped that would be the case. That Sophia girl reeked of bad news.
“Come, Fugo. We have other things to attend to.”