Archive of Our Own ^beta

“ Mr. Giovanna! MR. GIOVANNA !” 

“ Mr. Giovanna, we need your input! ” 

“ Mr. Giovanna, I am so sorry, I think I screwed up some of the stitching on this garment piece! Please don’t fire me, I’m begging you! ” 

The energy in the workroom of Giorno’s studio was absolutely chaotic with the hustle and bustle of various designers clamoring for his attention with their sketchbooks open to pages with drawings that needed his input, to the mechanical rattling sound of sewing machines running in the background, to cell phones ringing, and people getting up from their seats or heading back after various coffee, snack, and bathroom breaks. 

Giorno would have liked to say that he was used to this kind of fast-paced life by now. And in a way, he was. But at the same time, this was a lot, even for him. It made sense though. Giorno would soon be making his big debut as a fashion designer, having spent years working under various other, more experienced designers and building his portfolio and expertise. And now, he was lucky that he had an entire production and marketing team at his disposal to command in order to make his big dream happen. 

However, with the debut fashion show swiftly approaching in a little under a week now, and on Christmas Eve, no less, the pressure was definitely on. Everyone was feeling it. And also choking under it.

As an assistant ran up to Giorno and handed him a piping-hot gingerbread latte (without the whipped cream, he had a figure that he needed to keep after all), he took a deep breath, trying to steady his heartbeat as he surveyed the scene before him.

Next to him, his best friend, runway model-turned-fashion entrepreneur Trish Una stood with her arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face. 

“Just by the way these sewists are acting, you’d have thought that they had never sewn any pieces with leather in their lives.” She muttered before she took a sip from her own cup of coffee. 

On the other side of Giorno, his fashion merchandising and legalities expert, Pannacotta Fugo, (aka one of his closest friends since college) coughed and then spoke up.

“Remember, this is Mycelitex that they’re working with.” He explained, for what seemed like the umpteenth time this week. “It’s not exactly real leather, especially if it’s been made from the proteins of mushrooms.” 

“The fact of the matter is,” Giorno began, cutting in as he did before his friends could get into a squabble. “They should be treating it like real leather, seeing as it was made to have the exact same feel and texture of cowhide-based leather, right down to a molecular level. I had painstakingly developed this fabric with the exact intent that it would eventually phase out the need to use real cow products in the textiles industry.” He explained. “Which is incredibly disappointing for me to now have to witness every other sewist in this room more or less butchering the fabric right in front of my own eyes because they apparently don’t know what they’re doing.” He added disappointedly, his voice growing dark as he did. 

Giorno then chugged down the contents of his coffee cup before he then walked over to the desks of one of his designers. 

“You were asking for me?” He asked, eyeing the sketchbook expectantly. 

The designer, a mousy-looking girl who couldn’t have been any older than twenty, almost squeaked as she jumped back in her seat, startled at how suddenly Giorno had approached her. “Y-Yes!” She exclaimed. She then picked up her sketchbook and frantically flipped through it. “Here is the sketch I came up with!” She said. “W-what do you think?” She asked, nervously fiddling with her hands as she did. 

“I think…” Giorno began as he took in the sight of the sketch on the paper before him, which was of a sleek-looking leather coat with an oversized round collar. 

However, before Giorno could speak and give his input on the design, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. 

Sighing exasperatedly, Giorno reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and then answered it, halfway expecting it to have been a call from someone from the venue where his fashion show was supposed to be held. 

He was very quickly proven to be wrong. 

“Hello? Is everything alright with the venue?” He said, turning away from the designer. “I’m in the middle of something, so this better not be a waste of my time.” 

“While I don’t know what this venue is that you’re speaking of,” Came an unfamiliar man’s voice on the other end of the line. “I can assure you that this won’t be a waste of your time.”

“Hello? Who is this?” Giorno asked, pulling his phone away from his ear and finally checking the caller ID. The caller ID listed that the number was simply listed as “Unknown Number,” which wasn’t of much help to Giorno at all. He then huffed irritatedly and stepped back inside of his office, shutting the door behind him so he could finally get some peace and quiet. 

“This is Emory Graves, from the estate of your mother, Kimiko Giovanna.” The voice on the other end of the line said. 

Giorno felt a chill run down his spine at the mention of his mother’s name. He hadn’t spoken to the woman in the years since he had left home. He had all but cut ties with his abusive mother and step-father almost from the very moment he had moved to New York City to start his university degree. She had been virtually out of sight, out of mind. So to suddenly hear her name now, from her estate no less, was not just a sudden shock, but one that was unfortunately now dredging up unwanted memories and feelings. 

“Her estate?” Giorno finally managed to say. 

“Yes. Your mother passed away a few weeks ago, and in her will, she had entrusted her old house in your hometown of Snow Falls, Vermont to you.” Graves replied, matter-of-factly. His demeanor seemed so cold, almost clinical and methodical as he said this, like he had said this line thousands of times before. Which was true. Given that he’s an estate lawyer, it was highly likely that this was something he had to say often.

Somehow, Giorno didn’t feel even the slightest bit of sadness at hearing that his mother was now finally gone. Honestly, good-riddance to her. However, that still left Giorno with yet another question that needed answering. 

“But why did my mother leave me the family home to take care of?” Giorno asked. “We haven’t spoken in years.” 

“That is something that you should have asked your mother, not me.” Graves replied dismissively. Despite not knowing what this man looked like, Giorno could just imagine him shaking his head as he did. “However, there are still matters that we need to take care of, which is why I am requesting that you come to Snow Falls by this Tuesday, the 22nd.” 

“Are you insane?” Giorno asked, crumpling the empty coffee cup in his hand as he listened to this absolutely-unreasonable demand. “We are in the middle of the holiday season, literally less than a week before Christmas. And I have my debut fashion line launching on Christmas Eve that I am still in the middle of preparing for. There is absolutely no way I’d be able to get a plane ticket from New York City out to Vermont in time!”

“The plane ticket has already been handled.” Graves replied gruffly. “Consider this my Christmas gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mr. Giovanna. I'll see you this Tuesday.” 

And with that, Graves hung up, leaving Giorno with no room to argue or protest with his demands. 

Giorno angrily hurled his empty, crumpled-up coffee cup into the trash can next to his desk, before he then finally sat down in his seat and all but slammed his head down against the hard surface of the desk. 

Like as if he didn’t already have a ton of issues to deal with already, he now had to deal with this as well. 

Giorno let out a loud groan, and slammed his fist against the desk. He really had no choice in this matter. He didn’t want to have to deal with going to his small, backwater hometown in the middle of nowhere, especially not during one of the most important weeks of his career, and have to deal with more ridiculous nonsense like this. But seeing as lawyers were involved, he obviously had no choice. 

Giorno took another deep sigh, silently regaining his composure as he did. He took a few more deep breaths, then sat back up at his desk, and then slowly made his way over to the door to his office and opened it before stepping back out into the workroom. He obviously was going to need to ask some pretty big favors of Fugo and Trish. 

~☆♤☆♡◇~

Snow Falls, Vermont. What could be said about this town that had never been said before because no one lived here or ever talked about it? Very little, actually. There was simply nothing to say.

Just to emphasize just how little there was to say about the town, let alone how little actually went on in it, the trek out to Snow Falls was incredibly-uneventful. In fact, the busiest, most stressful part of the entire journey was hailing a cab to JFK International Airport and going through all the standard security checks while thousands of travelers made their way through the same airport checks to go back to wherever in the world they counted as “Home.” 

However, once Giorno landed in Burlington International Airport, traveling to Snow Falls was smooth sailing (or more like ‘Smooth Driving”) from there. Which he was grateful for, but it also definitely said a lot to what life in Vermont was like.

After Giorno picked up his luggage, he had ended up taking a rental car and driving his way through the mountains until the telltale painted wooden sign reading “Welcome to Snow Falls- The Town with Cheer!” pulled into view. 

That sign literally looked like it hadn’t changed since it was first painted in the 1950’s, and as Giorno had driven into town, it seemed that the rest of the town definitely hadn’t either.

The snow had been shoveled off of the streets as Giorno drove down them, collecting on the side in piles of grey slush as he observed all the red brick buildings and gable roofs of all the storefronts and businesses that lined the “Main Street '' of town. Twinkling Christmas lights, boughs of pine branches and holly, and red velveteen streamers were hung up all along the light posts, storefronts, and sidings of every building in sight, adding a colorful, festive atmosphere to the sight of the wintry town.

Well, if there was one thing this town had going for it, it definitely knew how to get into the Christmas spirit. 

As Giorno drove off of Main Street and began going wherever the roads took him, he found himself going on a trip down memory lane, perhaps a little bit too literally as he was driving on an actual lane. He passed by his old middle school, noting that it still had the same dated architecture it had had when he was a teenager. He passed by a snow-covered playground where he had spent a lot of his childhood. He passed by the town library, which was a tiny brick building, but what it lacked in size, it made up for in charm. Giorno remembered how he had spent so many days staying indoors from the cold just warming up in the library and reading books on animal biology, the history of fashion, and Les Miserables. Which still to this day, was not just his favorite book, but his favorite play, which he was glad he had been able to see a Broadway revival showing one year for his birthday.

Giorno drove though some more neighborhoods and eventually found himself back out on a stretch of street, which very quickly led to a strip mall. It looked nondescript enough. However, as Giorno felt a wave of fatigue hit, followed immediately by the realization that he felt parched, he couldn’t help but notice the all-too-familiar Starbucks logo, glowing in the dim, cloudy light of the late afternoon. Giorno decided right then and there that he could go for some coffee, and he exited the street and entered the parking lot for the strip mall, parking his rental car in the first available parking space he laid eyes on before heading inside the Starbucks.

The actual process of getting coffee was quick and unremarkable enough. It was something Giorno had done for what felt like a million times back in New York, after all. As he left the Starbucks, he tightened and bundled his cashmere scarf so that it was conserving his body heat better, and held the steaming-hot paper cup full of coffee with both of his gloved hands as he then started walking through the strip mall and back to his car, letting the heat seep through the soft wool of his gloves as he did. It was definitely colder here than it was back in New York, and right about now, Giorno was silently wishing he had packed and worn more layers before he left for Snow Falls.

As Giorno walked past the storefronts of the small strip mall, taking idle sips of his coffee, he found himself stopping to window shop more than he thought he would. He had told himself to be in a rush, to see what was left of his mother's house and get out quickly, back to his warm hotel room, but standing here now...he couldn't resist the urge to dawdle a bit. He peered curiously through the windows of presents and sparkly decorations curiously, almost savoring the moment.

Giorno didn't really get any time to savor , back in the city. Life moved quickly, almost too quickly for him to keep up with. Everything was done in a rush, from his morning routine, to his commute to his studio on the busy subway everyday. Sometimes he forgot how nice it was just to stroll along the streets and sip coffee (instead of chugging it), and visit stores (instead of ordering online in his pajamas). 

Passing by a rather small bookstore, Giorno paused to listen to the music playing over the tinny outdoor speaker, some cheery holiday song sung by a teenage girl that made his heart feel just a little lighter. He was struck with the urge to go inside and ask what was playing, so he could save the song on his phone and always remember this moment, with the snow falling around him and the street lights twinkling. It was such a ridiculously cheesy thought that he couldn't believe it came from him. 

He had just pulled the door open to go inside and maybe poke around a bit at the wares, when a sturdy body coming out at the same time slammed into him, knocking the lid of his coffee cup off and all over him in a dramatic, steaming splash. "Shit, I'm sorry!" Giorno reeled back, and looked up at-

"G-Guido?" Giorno froze, still holding his half-spilled Starbucks cup carelessly askew as it dripped peppermint mocha onto the icy pavement. Any and all conceivable thoughts flew out of his head the moment he saw him. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he simply kept staring like a complete idiot.

"Giorno?" Dear God, it was Guido Mista. Mista, the heartthrob of his teen years, who consumed his heart and mind as soon as puberty had closed it's cold grip around him. Mista, his first love and biggest regret, now standing there in front of him at the entrance to the bookstore, dripping burning hot coffee and staring back at Giorno like he was going through the exact same crisis. He hadn't changed a bit, yet he had. He was still so warm to look at, the human definition of a fireplace, soft curls dusted with snow and cheeks red. Dark eyes wide as they flew across Giorno's face like he was trying to re-memorize his features.

"Holy shit…" Mista murmured, his cheeks on the verge of breaking into a lovestruck grin.

"Holy shit." Giorno smiled nervously, not really sure what to say next. He was still struggling to process the sight in front of him, all the memories of his teenage years (including the ones he'd heavily repressed) flooding back to him at once.

"Holy...SHIT!" Mista suddenly flinched as he realized that the scorching coffee that Giorno had dumped on him was seeping through his shirt and reaching his skin, scorching him painfully. "Fuck!" Frantically, He grabbed the edge of his shirt and began unsticking it from his skin and fanning it to cool down. For a brief delirious moment, Giorno was sure he was going to strip it right off in front of him.

"I really am so sorry! Oh my god!" He blurted out, dropping the cup and covering his mouth with both hands in shame. Good fucking going, Giovanna. Of course the first thing you do when you see your ex-boyfriend is immediately give him second degree chest burns. 

"It's fine, ugh--its fine." Mista grumbled. Luckily, the chill in the air had cooled him off enough to be out of the danger zone, but he was still mildly uncomfortable. "I was heading home anyway, I'll change here."

"Here, I insist-" Giorno shucked off his cashmere scarf and passed it to him to try and soak up the stain. Mista took it gratefully, before squinting down at the stitched on label. 

"Chanel, huh?" He said. "You always did have a taste for the finer things."

"Yes, I suppose." Giorno chuckled, the awkwardness of the moment settling back on them. 

"How are you?" He asked suddenly. At the same time, Mista blurted out "How's it going?"

They both laughed awkwardly, and Mista stood to the side, gesturing for Giorno to come inside so they wouldn't have to awkwardly fumble their way through this conversation in the snow. Giorno was grateful for the rush of warm air that hit him as soon as he stepped inside the cozy store.

"I'm doing well. Keeping busy with work." He said finally, rubbing his hands together to warm them up after the loss of his hot coffee. "And you-?"

Mista rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit that Giorno knew well from years of watching him do it. "Busy as well with the bakery. Business is booming, you know. My only competitor is the Starbucks, and everyone here knows my pastries are better by a longshot."

"They really are." Giorno said wistfully. It had been years since he'd been able to have a taste of Mista's signature eclairs, or his famous zeppole, or his absolutely mouthwatering apple pies. His stomach growled just thinking about it. "I'm glad to know you're still keeping at it."

Mista frowned a little, tensing. "Keeping at it? What's that supposed to mean?"

Giorno paused, sensing he had just hit a nerve. "Well, yes. I just mean that your passion for baking is still alive. It's admirable. Running that whole business by yourself."

Mista still seemed unsure, but he let it go, relaxing his shoulders. The subject of his bakery had been the cause of many arguments in the past, and he was grateful that there wasn't going to be another one now. "And how's your passion for fashion design doing?"

Giorno could sense the unspoken words between them, building up like electricity. Was it worth it to leave me for?

"It's going great. I have a show this week actually. I'm going to be showcasing my designs for plant-based vegan leather, much more affordable to manufacture than plastic-based fabric, and great for the environment. Saving the cows and the trees." Giorno tucked a little bit of hair behind his ear and smiled, happy to talk about something he actually understood. Imperceptibly, Mista's eyes followed the movement of his fingers.

"But aren't the trees being used to make it? Doesn't sound very saving to me." Mista joked, and Giorno physically felt his heart flutter. Even after all these years this man still made him feel gooey and he hated it.

He laughed quietly. "It's made with mushrooms, actually. Mycelitex is the name of our patent. I even have a show next week for my designs."

"Mucinex?" Mista snickered. "Like the snot medication?" 

Giorno huffed out an annoyed sigh, but couldn't stop himself from grinning at Mista's stupid, trademark little jokes. "It's Mycelitex."

"Yeah, yeah. I heard you, Microsoft." Mista's eyes softened, and his joking smile grew a little sadder. "I'm really happy for you, Giorno. Truly. I'm glad that your dreams are coming true. I wish you the best with your designs."

Giorno paused, finding his eyes suddenly stinging with unshed tears, and he couldn't figure out why. Something about seeing his old love here, in the middle of this dusty bookstore, just as beautiful and radiant as he'd always been made his heart ache something fierce . He was still every bit the young boy that had been Giorno's first and only friend for years.

"Why are you in town, Giorno?" Mista asked softly, eyes glimmering with barely concealed sadness. "As much as I'd love to think that you came to see me, we both knew that isn't true."

"Guido, it's complicated-" Giorno tried to say. He didn't even know where to start. There was so much he wanted to say to Mista, years of history to catch up on, but all the words fell flat on his tongue the minute he tried to articulate everything he was feeling. He ended up silently standing there looking (and feeling) a bit like an idiot. "It's...a long story, honestly."

Mista held up a hand. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, Gio. I understand. I'll see you around, yeah? Stop by the bakery, if you want."

He leaned forward and squeezed Giorno's shoulder, a simple, friendly action that did everything to demonstrate the wide space that stretched between them. An uncrossable chasm, where neither of them knew what to say after all these years apart. And without  even one last look at Giorno, he turned and left the bookstore, disappearing into the icy fog of winter like he'd never even been there. Like he hadn't carved a hole in Giorno's heart that he spent years trying to fill.

Giorno stood there for a long time, trying to work through the storm of emotions that plagued his mind, and why he wanted nothing more than to follow Mista into that fog and never look back.

~☆♤☆♡◇~

As Giorno drove out of the strip mall’s parking lot and back onto the streets, he couldn’t help but replay what had just happened over and over again in his head. He had to admit, Mista was one “ghost” from the past that he really hadn’t expected to see. Although in hindsight, he really should have. Given the fact that Mista never left Snow Falls, and had often said that he didn’t have any plans to do so, along with the fact that Snow Falls was small enough of a town where it wasn’t too hard to randomly run into people you know while you’re out and about, Giorno should have had the sense to expect it. 

And still, no amount of emotional preparation could have possibly prepared Giorno to see the real deal in person, alive and thriving and just as handsome and charming as he had when he left the town (and left him).

Giorno felt his heart twinge with equal parts regret and what felt like a long-lost longing as he thought about Mista. With the way Giorno had left things with him all those years ago, he would not have blamed Mista if he had reacted to seeing him for the first time in almost 7 years with anger, or sadness, or bitterness. And in a way, some part of Giorno wished that Mista had done that instead of reacting to him with the sweet kindness and cheesy sense of humor that had been one of the many things that made Giorno fall so head-over-heels in love with him in the first place all those years ago. Because now, as he thought back to that moment back at the strip mall, some part of him still couldn’t help but just absolutely melt at the memory.

And in all honesty, Giorno wasn’t sure how much he liked the fact that he still seemed so weak to Mista’s charms even after all this time, even after he had thought that he had gotten over him so long ago. In a way, Mista’s kindness made Giorno feel so much worse, especially after he had broken his heart the way he had. He didn’t feel deserving of it at all.

Mista was dangerous, and Giorno knew that he needed to stay away if he knew what was good for him, warm smiles, gorgeous soulful eyes, and corny jokes be damned.

Speaking of ghosts from the past, as Giorno pulled off the main road and into a quiet, gray residential neighborhood, he couldn’t help but feel that all-too-familiar sense of dread and fear begin to grip at his heart and squeeze it as he took in the sights of the neighborhood where he had spent the first eighteen years of his life living in. If he could really truly call it “living”, that is. If Giorno was being completely honest, he had never felt like he was living in this neighborhood so much as he had felt like he was slowly dying, with every day of the same suffocating small-town monotony and childhood abuse and neglect bringing him closer and closer to a grave where absolutely nothing of note could have ever been carved on his epitaph. Perhaps that was just one more reason why he had left for New York at the first chance he got.

As Giorno’s old childhood home pulled into view, Giorno IMMEDIATELY realized just why his mother had entrusted him of all people with taking care of her house when she had died.

It wasn’t so much a house at this point as it was just a vague amalgamation of peeling, chipped paint, boarded-up windows, broken glass, caved-in roofing, and rotting, moldy wood that somewhat resembled a house. 

The front yard wasn’t that much better, as it was overgrown with weeds and grass that reached up to Giorno’s knees. The shrubs that used to be so green and vibrant with flowers, were dead and shriveled up, and the garden was barren of any flowers whatsoever. The wooden fence that had surrounded the house was also in horrible shape, as the paint was faded and peeling, and there were gaps in the wooden planks that made up the fencing, some from boards falling out after enduring the elements too long, others from boards being forcibly ripped out by various intruders who might have come by to look at the house.

If this was what the outside looked like, Giorno wasn’t sure he was looking forward to knowing what the inside looked like. If there even was much of an inside. For all Giorno knew, the inside of the house could have rotted away from disrepair, or became home to raccoons or skunks or whatever other animals could find a use for it. Or people who were bored and had nothing better to do decided to break in and check out the place, or more likely steal anything that could be of worth that Giorno had left behind when he moved, because he knew that his mother didn’t care enough about Giorno to take his things with her when she had moved away. 

Giorno’s mother hadn’t entrusted the house to him because she had actually cared about him or wanted him to have a nice home or anything. No, she had given the house to Giorno just to punish him one more time from beyond the grave with the task of having to clean and fix all of that up. 

“Good one, Mother.” Giorno groaned out loud as he stared at the mess in front of him. On some level, he couldn’t help being somewhat impressed with how devious his mother’s plan was. He didn’t think she was the kind of person to play the long game, let alone be the kind of person that was smart enough to draft up a will and keep him in it. 

Giorno closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then let out a heavy sigh, which formed as a thick cloud in the chilly winter air. Well, he absolutely had his work cut out for him. Especially since he still needed to talk with Mr. Graves about the details of ownership of this house. 

Well, he didn’t need to do that yet . 

Giorno wrapped his arms around himself for warmth, turned around and promptly headed back to the car. He had seen more than enough today, be it of Mista, of this town, or of this sorry excuse for a house. 

He’ll definitely have plenty of time to think about it later, for better or for worse, but for now, he wanted food, and he wanted to get back to the warmth of his hotel room.

~☆♤☆♡◇~

By the time Giorno returned to his hotel room, he was more than relieved to do so. 

Giorno tiredly unwound the scarf from his neck, then shed his coat before hanging them up on the hook behind his hotel room door, making a mental note to take the scarf to the sink and wash the coffee out. The room looked more than dated, it was incredibly ancient, and not at all to his more sophisticated and modern tastes, but he couldn’t deny that after a long day out in the cold, it was absolutely cozy. And cozy was definitely what he needed right about now.

He let out a sigh before he reached into the bag he had placed by the bed and pulled out his laptop. He did have a call he had promised to his friends. 

He booted up the laptop, logged himself in, opened up Zoom, and then hit “call” on the room he had set up beforehand.

Almost instantaneously, two other video feeds popped up, one with the image of Fugo in it, and the other with the image of Trish. 

“Giorno! Giorno, thank GOD you’re alive!” Trish exclaimed. She was wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe that matched the color of her hair. In her lap sat an equally-fluffy white guinea pig, which she patted absentmindedly.

“I’m fine , Trish.” Giorno said, rolling his eyes at how dramatic his friend was being right now. “Just because you claim you’d straight-up die if you were to go visit a place like my tiny hometown, doesn’t mean I would.”

"I didn't know it was a crime for me to care about my friend's well-being." Trish added with a pout.

“So, anyway, how was your first day back in your hometown?” Fugo asked. He was wearing a red knit sweater, and right in front of him was a mug full of what appeared to be some kind of tea. He still hadn't taken out his red strawberry stud earrings, which contrasted against how pale the lighting made his already-pale skin and hair look.

“What do you want to know?” Giorno asked.

“Just tell us everything!” Trish demanded.

“So,” Giorno began. “It turns out that my hometown didn’t exactly change, for better or for worse.” He said. “Although they do have a Starbucks now, so the town has that going for it. I checked out the house that my mom left me to take care of, and it’s in way worse shape than I expected, so now I have to take care of that.” He was listing off everything and he couldn’t seem to stop. “And then to top it off, I quite literally bumped into my hot ex-boyfriend from high school, spilled hot coffee all over his chest and probably gave his nipples some second-degree burns in the process.” 

“Oh my God.” Fugo muttered, cringing at the mention of everything that Giorno just mentioned.

“Is he going to be okay?” Trish asked. “Because that is one way to make an impression after not seeing each other for a while.” 

“I think he’ll be fine.” Giorno said hastily, hoping that that topic will be finished soon. “I helped clean up the mess with my favorite Chanel scarf--” 

"Not the Chanel scarf." Fugo murmured, as he took a sip of his tea. "No man is worth that scarf."

"Okay, you can't just tell us you ran into your ex, mention how hot he is, and how you ruined THE Chanel scarf to help him, and then not show us a photo!" Trish exclaimed with a pout. “He’s got to be something special for that to happen.”

"Alright, alright, just give me a second to pull up his social media so you can see for yourself." Giorno said with an eye roll as he opened the Instagram app, then typed in Mista's username. It turned out that after all these years, Mista still never changed his instagram username, nor did he ever block Giorno after they broke up. Giorno scrolled through photos of mouthwatering cakes and raised loaves of bread, photos of the bakery, and Mista's golden retriever puppies. Giorno eventually found a recent photo of Mista, wearing his signature beanie over his dark curls, a flour-dusted apron over his blue flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and absolutely beaming with pride. 

The caption under the photo read " All ready for a new day at the bakery !" 

The sight of Mista looking so proud and happy almost made Giorno's heart feel a little warm and fluttery, but he quickly dismissed it as he then re-centered the image on his phone screen.

Giorno took a screenshot, and then opened up the messenger app and attached the image along with a message that read "Here he is."

"Check the group chat." Giorno said as he then hit "Send".

There was the telltale "Ding" sound of the Messenger app, followed by a pause as Fugo and Trish glanced down at their phones to open the notification. 

"Oh my god." Trish muttered as her eyes widened at the picture. “I’m gay, but I’m definitely not blind.”

"So, not to sound corny or anything," Fugo began. "But to quote that one line from a Christmas movie that I watched when I was drunk: 'That man can stuff my stocking anytime.'"

"Fugo!" Trish exclaimed in shock.

"What? Like you wouldn't be thinking the same thing if you weren't a lesbian." Fugo muttered defensively.

"That's not the kind of thing you would usually say." Trish said. 

"Which just proves just how hot this guy is if he can get that kind of reaction out of me." Fugo explained.

"So, as you can see, he's a baker." Giorno explained, shaking his head and electing to ignore the raunchy comments his friends just made about his (admittedly-hot) ex. 

"Something tells me that this man has got a nice set of buns." Trish muttered as she processed that information. 

"Oh, and my stocking stuffing comment was somehow worse than that?" Fugo retorted.

“Having nice buns is a year-round classic joke!” Trish snapped. “And therefore has more staying power than a seasonal joke like getting your ‘stocking’ stuffed!” Trish then shook her head dismissively. "So anyway, how did you end up losing such a hot guy in the first place?” She asked, shaking her head and changing the subject.

The minute Trish said this, a chill settled over the room, seeping and creeping deep into Giorno’s heart in a way that he knew it couldn't have come from the possibility of him accidentally leaving open a window and letting in a frosty draft. He wished he had though, at least that way, he could have more-easily dismissed the cold discomfort he felt on the weather outside. 

Giorno sighed, and then shook his head slightly as he closed his eyes. Breathe, Giorno. Breathe. It’s all in the past, it doesn’t matter anymore. At least, it SHOULDN’T matter anymore.

“So, as I had mentioned, we were more or less what people would call ‘high school sweethearts.’” Giorno explained, feeling almost wistful and nostalgic as he began reminiscing on the past. “Guido was two grades above me, and we were best friends in middle school.” He explained. “We did everything together.” Giorno continued. “Every other weekend, we’d sneak into movies at the small movie theatre our town has. We’d go tree climbing, or hunting for Bigfoot. Yeah, he claimed Bigfoot was real, and I wasn’t keen on bursting his bubble. And sometimes we’d go ice skating on the lake that’s nearby when it would get cold enough for the water to freeze over. And during the summer, we’d go skinny di--” 

Giorno briefly cut himself off as he realized that that was probably a little bit too much information, and then just as quickly as he did, he started speaking again. 

“Swimming.” Giorno said resolutely, much to Fugo and Trish’s all-too-knowing glances. “We’d go swimming at that same lake together or he’d help me go foraging in the woods for new plants or mushrooms for me to sketch.” As Giorno reminisced upon his past, he couldn’t help but notice a warm, light, and happy feeling make its way into his heart, driving out the discomfort he had previously felt.

“That’s sweet, and also oddly-unexpected. Considering what you’re like now.” Fugo commented. 

“Well, we were just kids.” Giorno explained. A lot could change between then and now.” He then shook his head dismissively and refocused back on the subject at hand. “Anyway, he and I ended up dating once I became a sophomore in high school. By then, he was old enough to drive his dad’s pickup truck, so we’d often end up going for drives in it a lot. And then we did some other things, in that pickup truck if you understand what I mean. We were more or less each other’s ‘Firsts’ for everything.”

“Oooohhhh that’s juicy .” Trish exclaimed. A grin was spreading across her face as she said this. And Giorno could only guess what kind of salacious thoughts were running through her mind the more she listened. “Tell me more.”

“Well…” Giorno trailed off as the light, cheery feeling in his heart once more was replaced by the cold, chilling, feeling of dread and regret that had initially tried to creep in. “Guido stayed in our hometown after he graduated, so we continued dating throughout my senior year.” He explained. “He was my date to prom, and he was there with me for my graduation.” 

“So.... What happened?” Fugo asked. 

“I left our hometown when I got accepted into NYU to start my fashion major.” Giorno said, his voice quiet as he did. “And I was really excited to leave and go chase my dream of becoming this big, successful fashion designer.” 

“And you’ve gotten pretty far with that too, all things considered.” Trish added. 

“But it came at a cost.” Giorno replied with a small shake of his head. That feeling of regret only seemed to tighten its hold and anchor itself even deeper inside of his heart as he did. “Guido and I tried making our relationship long-distance, and for a few months, it worked.”

“And then let me guess,” Fugo said. “You just ended up breaking up like every other long-distance college couple and that was the end of things.” 

“That’s more reductive than I’d like to put it, but pretty much.” Giorno finally said with a small huff and crossed his arms over his chest. He briefly turned his gaze to somewhere else, just so he didn’t need to meet that of his friends, and his gaze landed on the overly-kitschy vintage floral wallpaper of the hotel room and crocheted lace doilies placed on the bedside table and desk. God, it was so ugly . And all the immense amount of tinsel, gaudy 80s-era Christmas decorations, and fake pine and holly boughs hung up all over the room wasn’t helping things at all. But looking at all of this was still a better distraction than talking about his ex.

“We’ll let you stop now, but only because you seem burnt out.” Trish said, her voice tinged with sympathy. “But this isn’t going to be the last of us asking you what happened between you and this guy.”

“Or what happens now between you and him.” Fugo added with a knowing smirk.

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Giorno said, rolling his eyes. “We haven’t seen each other in over half a decade, I’m sure there’s no more feelings there.” 

“Well, despite what you’re telling us, something tells me that you still have feelings for this guy.” Fugo added. 

“No, I don’t.” Giorno said, perhaps a little bit too defensively. He then shook his head and took a deep breath. “Anyway,” He said, changing the subject. “You need to consistently get some beauty sleep so you look good for the runway on Wednesday.” He said, turning his attention to Trish. “And you have some paperwork to handle with the upcoming finalization of the patent on my vegan leather brand and coordinating the fashion show.”  Giorno then added, turning his attention to Fugo. 

“Fine, Boss .” Trish huffed in a gesture of mock-annoyance as she rolled her eyes. 

“Keep us updated, okay?” Fugo said. 

“I will, don’t worry about it.” Giorno replied. 

“Okay. Goodnight, Giorno!” Trish said. She kissed her fingers with an exaggerated “Mwah” sound, then pressed it against the camera, blocking out the image until it was just a black screen. Then, she removed her fingers and to allow for the camera to show her again before she waved, and finally signed out of the video call. 

“I’ll let you get some rest now.” Fugo added with a nod. “Goodnight, Giorno.” 

And with that, he signed out of the call as well, which automatically ended the call on Giorno’s end as the zoom app registered him as the only person left. 

Giorno sighed in equal parts exhaustion, relief, and exasperation as he then flopped back upon the mattress, hearing the squeak of the bed springs and feeling the cushioning of the thick, quilted duvet against the fabric of his shirt.

Giorno decided that he was going to take his own advice and with that, he slowly got up, grabbed his toiletries bag from his suitcase, and then headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. He did have a long day tomorrow, after all.

~☆♤☆♡◇~

" God, Narancia. I made such a fucking fool of myself." Mista groaned, burying his face in his flour-covered hands dramatically. "He was perfect, and beautiful, and I was…"

"Covered in coffee? Smelling like yeast and grease and dog?" Narancia was perched on the edge of the counter, casually munching on a cinnamon bagel as he listened to his best friend spill his woes. The two of them were hanging out the next morning in the nearly empty bakery that Mista ran, as they chatted. It was an unsurprisingly slow morning, so Mista relented to letting his friend distract from all the work piling up in the back that he had to do. 

"That. Yeah." Mista wiped his hands across his face, smearing flour even more. "Hey, are you gonna pay for that?"

"Probably not." Narancia took a big bite, and swung his legs. "So what did you guys talk about? Did you mention how lonely and boring your dating life is, how much you want to run back into his embrace and between his legs? Please tell me you mentioned that you've been working out."

"We really didn't talk about much…" Mista lifted his head up and rested it dejectedly on his hand, too exhausted from being up until 5am thinking and baking apple scones to entertain Narancia. "How his career is doing, how I've been doing, how he's still into fancy fashion brands like Chanel and I'm shopping at the Old Navy 20 miles down the road."

Despite his self-deprecating comment, Mista couldn't help but smile fondly a bit, knowing that Giorno could finally afford all the clothing they dreamily poured over in magazines as teens. Fashion had been something of a shared interest for them, Mista liked to look nice too even if his dirty apron didn't give away much, but for Giorno it had always been more than that. He'd really come a long way from the hand-me-down wearing teenager that ran to Mista's house every Monday morning clutching the newest edition of Teen Vogue in his fist so they could flip through it together. And he was so immensely proud of him.

"And then…" Mista sighed, shoulders slumping somehow impossibly more. He was practically curled in on himself now, shaped like the croissants he was famous for. 

"And then?" Narancia asked.

"And then I left. I got so nervous seeing him standing there, looking like he hasn't aged a day since the last time I ever held him in my arms, I just...panicked. I felt like I was going to just explode into a million pieces being near him, dude. I went home and screamed into my pillow." Mista said wistfully.

Narancia slid off the counter to stand beside him. "Is this the part where you insist you don't have feelings for him despite this whole speech?"

Mista barked out a sad laugh. "I don't think I ever stopped. He was the one who dumped me, you just don't magically lose feelings after that. I don't know why he's back in town, but it's absolutely killing me knowing he's so near."

Narancia had wandered away from Mista to peer over the cash register into the dining area of the bakery, in the direction of the large window overlooking the snow-covered streets outside. Through the fog, two figures were emerging and walking towards the front door. Narancia's eyes widened.

"Nearer than you think." He murmured.

"What was that?" Mista glanced up, from where he was doodling hearts on a small scrap of paper left on the counter. 

"Uh, nothing. Look I'm gonna head out, I have to open the bookstore three hours early today. I'll see you later!" Narancia hurried out from behind the counter, tossing the last bit of his bagel to Mista to finish. "Look sharp!"

"What?" He frowned, but his eyes were drawn to the small chime of the bell above the door, sounding off as two figures emerged from the cold and came inside. One of them was a tall, gray-haired man, looking weary and tired as he crumbled under the weight of a heavy black coat. A leather briefcase was tucked under his arm. The other was blond, and-

"G-Giorno?" Guido froze, staring in shock as the blond man dusted the snow off of himself, and turned curiously at the mention of his name. Their eyes met, and Mista's pen dug so hard into the paper he was doodling on that it tore a hole.

~☆♤☆♡◇~

There was absolutely no way this was happening right now. 

He was just supposed to come in here, finalize and sign some last few documents with Mr. Graves, and then get out. This was definitely not on the agenda at all in the slightest. 

He had thought it was a nice enough suggestion when Mr. Graves suggested they move the remainder of their meeting somewhere else so they could get some breakfast. Giorno agreed as he realized how hungry he was. 

The bakery itself left a nice enough impression. The window display was covered in more of the fake-cotton snow and twinkling white Christmas lights as an assortment of pastries were shown off in glass cake dishes. A battery-operated Christmas train set wound its way around the various display dishes of pastries, cakes, and breads, along with various vintage Santa and Christmas elf figurines, wooden nutcrackers, and a soft-looking teddy bear that held a sign that had the bakery’s opening hours written on it. 

And as Giorno had walked inside the warm coziness of the bakery, he couldn’t help but appreciate the level of effort that had gone into decorating the place. A brick fireplace sat on the side, around which several plush couches were arranged. On the fireplace mantle were some more of the cotton vintage wooden nutcrackers, figurines, sprigs of holly and boughs of pine wrapped up in a green-and-red plaid pattern. Stockings hung from the fireplace, and a string of white Christmas lights were skillfully-woven through the display, illuminating it with a soft glow. 

Next to the fireplace was a large Christmas tree, which was heavily-laden with glittering trinkets, round ruby-red, golden, emerald-green, and sapphire-blue glass orbs, silvery tinsel, golden chain, red-ribbon bows, and candy canes, and twinkling multicolored Christmas lights. A golden star sat on top of the tree, topping off the extravagant display perfectly. 

And all along the edges of the ceiling, more gold chain, white Christmas lights, and red ribbon were strung up. 

By the wooden counter at the back was a giant blackboard sign in which the various baked specials of the day were written on it, as well as the list of coffees, hot chocolates, teas, sandwiches, quiches, cakes, and pies. A restaurant-quality coffee maker and a tea kettle sat underneath the sign. On either side of the counter was a large glass display in which hundreds upon hundreds of cookies, scones, croissants, quiches, buns, bread loaves, and other delicious, mouth-watering treats and goodies.

Giorno couldn't help feeling slightly entranced by the sight before him.

And that’s when he heard it. 

“ G-Giorno ?”

Giorno looked up and found himself staring across the fake-pine, holly, tinsel, and glitter-covered room at none other than Mista himself. Again. 

The sense of deja vu was extremely strong as Mista walked up to the table that Giorno and Mr. Graves then sat down at.

“Giorno, hey!” He said, giving Giorno a smile as he did a tiny wave with his hand. 

“Guido.” Giorno said, turning around and giving Mista a tiny smile of his own at least for the sake of appearances as he internally tried to figure out what was going on. He didn’t like that his attempt to stay away from Mista had lasted less than 24 hours, and not even of his own volition. Giorno also didn’t like the fact that he could feel his heart flutter at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?” 

“I should be asking you that.” Mista replied with a chuckle as he then dusted his flour-covered hands on the front of his apron, which Giorno only now finally noticed. “Considering that this is my bakery and all that.” 

Oh… Oh no. Giorno should have at least considered the possibility of this happening the moment Mr. Graves suggested that the two of them meet up. But Giorno had been so focused on quickly getting these papers and this meeting over and done with, that he hadn’t been fully paying attention to where Mr. Graves was leading him from his office when he had suggested that they go grab some coffee and pastries at a place nearby. And now here he was, staring back at Mista, in all his gorgeous, handsome, flour-dusted glory.

“You two know each other?” Mr. Graves asked, glancing from Giorno, to Mista, and then back at Giorno again. 

“Uhhh… yeah!” Mista exclaimed. 

“You could say that.” Giorno added with a nod. 

“That’s interesting.” Mr. Graves said with a polite nod of his head. “How so?"

“Well…” Giorno began before he trailed off, not sure how he could answer this question without addressing the enormous elephant in the room. He was REALLY regretting even agreeing to meet up with Mr. Graves right about now. He would have just stayed back in his hotel room. Actually, no, He wouldn’t have even left New York if he knew it was going to come to this. 

“Giorno and I go way back!” Mista hastily cut in, interrupting Giorno’s train of thought and sparing him from the pain of figuring out how to describe what they were. “We knew each other as kids.” 

Well, that was definitely one way to put it. Giorno internally let out a sigh of relief at this. 

“I see.” Mr. Graves said. “Well, in that case, I will just go to the front counter and place my order immediately so you can get to work on it.” He explained. “Something tells me that you two have a lot of catching up to do. So the sooner I finish my business here, the better.” And with that, he started to get up from his seat.

Giorno really hated Mr. Graves right about now. It was like this man just existed for no other reason than to inconvenience him and to leave him alone with Mista.

“I mean, I can just take your order here!” Mista chimed, shaking his head as he gestured for Mr. Graves to sit back down in his chair. “No need for you guys to get up from your seats or anything.” 

“Well, that’s very nice of you.” Mr. Graves said, giving Mista a small, but noticeable smile of appreciation. “In that case, I’ll just get a black coffee and one of those ham-and-cheese croissants.” 

“You know what?” Giorno quickly chimed in. “I’ll just get a gingerbread latte and a chocolate chip muffin.” 

“Of course!” Mista said with a smile. “I’ll be right out.” He added. And with a wink, Mista then turned around and walked back to his previous spot behind the counter and got to work. 

“Well, he seems like a nice man.” Mr. Graves quietly said, turning back to face Giorno. 

“He is.” Giorno admitted. He couldn’t help but smile softly at the thought of Mista and his kind heart.

Mista came back almost a minute later with a tray full of plates of pastries and mugs full of steaming-hot coffees.

“One gingerbread latte for you.” He said gently, grabbing one of the mugs from the tray and setting it down in front of Giorno. “And a black coffee for you.” He said, grabbing the mug full of black coffee and placing it in front of Mr. Graves. “And here’s your chocolate chip muffin, Giorno.” He said, once more turning back to face Giorno and taking his plate with the muffin off of the tray and placing it in front of Giorno. “And of course, here’s your ham-and-cheese croissant, Sir.” Mista added, taking another plate and placing it in front of Mr. Graves.

“Thank you.” Mr. Graves said, giving Mista a tiny smile.

“No problem.” Mista beamed. He then took the last plate from the tray and then placed it down in front of Giorno.

“Chocolate croissant?” Mista offered, bringing Giorno’s attention to the pastry in front of him. “It’s on the house.” 

Well, Giorno was definitely not going to say “no” to something as delicious as one of Mista’s famous croissants, especially if they had chocolate in them. His mouth was practically watering at the very thought of getting to eat one.

“Thank you.” Giorno said gratefully, nodding at Mista as he did. “That’s sweet of you.” 

“Can’t possibly be any sweeter than my pastries.” Mista added with a good-natured chuckle. “But thanks.” His cheeks seemed rosier as he laughed, and seeing his smile was making Giorno’s heart do funny things in his chest. 

Mista then recomposed himself, and tucked the tray under his armpit as he then stood up straighter. “I gotta get back to the counter.” He said. “But hey,” He said. “Enjoy your breakfast!” 

And with that, Mista walked back to his spot behind the counter, right as the jingle of the bell above the doorway announced the arrival of a couple more customers who walked into the bakery. 

“Well, while we’re working on our breakfast,” Mr. Graves said, turning back to face Giorno as he took a sip from his mug of coffee. “Perhaps now, we should finally have those documents signed.” He reached down and pulled his suitcase into his lap, popped it open, and then pulled out a manila folder full of various legal papers. He pulled out a pen, and then gently closed the briefcase and set it back down next to his chair. 

Giorno took a deep breath, exhaled, and then nodded. “Let’s do that, then.” He agreed.

“As your mother’s will dictated,” He said, taking the papers out from the manila folder and then sliding them over to Giorno. “You get the rights to the house to do as you please with it. She just stated that you have to, and I quote, ‘Clean the place up before you do.’” He tapped on a certain line on the will to prove his point. 

Giorno looked at the line of text, and sure enough, it stipulated that the house needed to be restored before anything was to be done with it. He groaned internally as he finally saw confirmation of just what he suspected his mother had intended for him.

“If I were you, I’d have it turned over to the county.” Mr. Graves suggested. “It’s in such a run-down state, that you’d still lose money even if you had the house repaired and sold.”

“That’s what I’m probably going to do.” Giorno agreed, sighing in exasperation and pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought of the house in its horrifically run-down state. “I didn’t really have the most positive emotional attachment to it.” He admitted. 

“Then, I guess it’s settled.” Mr. Graves said. He then pulled out another document and slid it across the table to Giorno. “Here is the document that you need to sign in order to release all ownership of the house to the county. The county would take possession of the house within 24 hours of this document being signed, so the process would be quick and simple.” He explained.

Giorno nodded as he processed this information. “Then, let’s finally sign this.” He agreed, reaching for the pen. 

Mr. Graves nodded, and gently handed the pen over to Giorno. 

“Just sign here. And also right nere.” Mr. Graves said, pointing at the dotted lines on the various different documents. 

Giorno hastily scribbled his name where Mr. Graves told him to, barely even looking at the documents as he did. He had honestly seen more than enough, and just wanted to get this whole process over and done with. After all, he still needed to go back to the house and clear out anything that might still be inside. And that was still something Giorno wasn’t looking forward to. 

Once Giorno finished signing his name, he gently handed the pen back to Mr. Graves. Mr. Graves nodded and took the documents back before placing them and the pen back in his briefcase before shutting it closed once more.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” He said, turning to face Giorno. “I’d best be on my way, but if you change your mind for any reason, I'll be at my office tonight.” He said. Mr. Graves then stood up, prompting Giorno to stand up as well when he offered his hand out to the blond for a handshake. “It was nice doing business with you, Mr. Giovanna.”

“I hope you have a good rest of the day.” Giorno replied with a nod. “And thank you so much for walking me through this process. I really appreciate it.”

Mr. Graves nodded, then grabbed his coffee mug, gulped down the rest of his coffee, took what was left of his croissant, and headed to the counter to pay for his meal. After paying, he immediately turned and briskly walked out of the cafe, leaving the door jingling in his wake.

As Giorno heard his stomach growl, he realized that he hadn’t eaten much of his breakfast, as delicious as it was. After all, he had been too busy signing documents and conversing with Mr. Graves and Mista to really truly eat.

“I swear, that guy took forever to get out.”  

Speak of the Devil.

Giorno turned his attention away from the door and saw that Mista was now standing in front of his table. 

“I didn’t realize that you were waiting for him to leave." Giorno replied, turning back to face Mista. He gave him an amused smile as he did. “You’re eager to talk to me today aren’t you, Guido?” 

Mista’s face flushed pink from embarrassment, as if he had been caught in the act

Then finally, he chuckled. 

“You got me.” Mista said with a smile. “But then again, it’s not every day that THE fashion mogul, Mr. Giorno Giovanna himself, comes into my humble small-town bakery.” 

Giorno couldn’t help but giggle a little at how dramatic Mista’s delivery of that line was, glad at the awkward note they had left on yesterday had all but vanished. But deep down, he also knew that there was an unspoken undertone of truth, of acknowledgment of their standing in his little joke. 

"Well, I have been meaning to ask," Giorno began, changing the subject as fast as he could. "But how is your chest?" 

"My chest?" Mista asked as his hand flew up to cup one of his pecs. Giorno's eyes darted down to stare for a second, cheeks the barest bit rosy.

“I did spill hot coffee all over it, did I not?” Giorno asked. 

“Oh, right!” Mista exclaimed. He reached his hand up under the beanie that sat in his dark curls and sheepishly carded his fingers through them. “It's fine! It wasn’t anything that a little ice and some aloe vera gel couldn’t help soothe.” He said reassuringly. “I’d give it like, two days before it’ll be like it never happened.”

‘Well, that’s a relief.” Giorno replied, giving Mista a smile as he did. “I was worried I had given your nipples second-degree burns with how you had reacted yesterday. 

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” Mista said. “So, what are you up to today?” He asked, changing the subject as he slid into the seat that Mr. Graves had previously occupied. 

“Well,” Giorno said, taking a deep breath. “Just a few minutes ago, I signed over ownership of my childhood home at the request of my late mother’s estate lawyer.” He explained. “And in about 24 hours, the house will belong to the county for it to do with the property as it pleases.”

Mista let out a soft “Oh” of realization as he finally put the pieces together. God, he felt like such a mega asshole leaving like he did yesterday. If he had only known it was a family matter. Still, a part of him felt hurt to learn the truth: it wasn't really to do with him at all.

“So this was why you came back to Snow Falls after all these years.” He said quietly. He seemed deflated at this, and his smile faltered as he said this.

Giorno wasn’t oblivious to the hidden subtext behind that line. It was like he had seemed disappointed to finally hear confirmation that he wasn’t one of the reasons why Giorno had come back. Giorno tried his best to ignore it.

“Yeah, and in the middle of the week leading up to my first fashion collection’s big debut, no less.” Giorno added, his tone growing unamused as he remembered just how much Mr. Graves’s phone call had inconvenienced him. “Honestly, I would have come here even later, if not for the fact that my mother’s estate lawyer insisted that I come here immediately. Proving once more that even beyond the grave, my mother still manages to find ways to make my life Hell.” 

“I’m sorry.” Mista replied, frowning as he did. And he truly did seem sorry as the weight of the entire situation finally sank in.

“It’s not your fault.” Giorno said, shaking his head as he glanced away. “And in a way, maybe I should be here to say goodbye to the house.” He admitted. “After all, that was the house I had grown up in. It’s only right that I go and take the rest of my things that my mother likely left behind when she moved away and give the house one last send-off.”

“Well, hey, if you want,” Mista began. “I can go with you to the old house.” He offered. “You know, just to help lend a hand in clearing out the place so it’s a little easier for you to manage.” 

Giorno stopped and thought about the offer. While he was initially unsure of if he should go to his old, crumbling childhood house with his hot ex-boyfriend, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that having an extra set of hands to help out as well as having some extra emotional support wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to have. And it wasn't like he had been close with a lot of people in this town to begin with, so it's not like Giorno could turn down Mista and call up someone else now.

"I actually would like that." Giorno finally said with a nod. "Having some assistance might be nice. Thank you."

"Well hey, no problem!" Mista said with a grin. "I can come by with the old pickup truck and pick you up." He offered. "I'll just need to go home and change first, and also quickly feed and walk my dogs." His smile got wider as he thought about his dogs. "Oh right," He added, fishing his phone out of his pocket and swiping through some photos of his puppies. "I adopted a whole litter of golden retriever puppies recently!" He said proudly, turning his phone around to Giorno as he did. Just seeing Mista so happy was making his heart do little flips in his chest. Joy was an emotion that really suited Mista best. "I call them 'The Sex Pistols,' you know, like the band?" 

Giorno smiled at Mista's enthusiasm as he gently grabbed the phone and angled it so that he could see the image better. On-screen was an image of six absolutely angelic-looking golden retriever puppies with blue collars fixed around their necks all playing and frolicking in the snow. 

"They're adorable." Giorno said, smiling at Mista as he handed his phone back to him. 

"I know!" Mista exclaimed. "They can be such little shits, but they're all my babies." He was beaming as he said this. "If you want, you can come meet them if you have the time while you're here." He suggested. "I feel like they'd like you a lot."

Giorno couldn't deny the fact that the idea sounded tempting, even though he had always thought he was more of a cat person. But then he remembered that he shouldn't be getting too close. And he did still have a lot of work he needed to do for his fashion show soon.

"I'll be busy for most of the afternoon leading up to our visit to the house while I try to coordinate a few things for my fashion line's debut." Giorno explained. "And depending on how the house visit goes, I might need a bit more time for myself to recuperate." He explained. "But we'll see."

A look of disappointment briefly flashed through Mista's eyes as Giorno said this, but he then nodded. 

"Hey, that's totally understandable." He said. "You gotta do what you gotta do." 

At that moment, Giorno's stomach loudly growled. As if reminding him that he STILL hadn't eaten yet. 

Giorno looked down at his stomach in embarrassment, feeling betrayed that his body would do such a thing to him in front of Mista.

Mista just chuckled at this before he stood up straighter. "I should probably let you eat." He said. "You'll need to keep your strength up for the house visit." He then turned his head to the door as he heard the bell above it jingle a couple times. "And I should go take care of my customers and put the next batch of cookies in the oven." He explained. 

"I'll let you get to it, then." Giorno said with a nod. 

"But I'll see you later, okay?" Mista said, looking over his shoulder as he walked to the counter. 

"I'll see you later." Giorno said with a smile. 

Mista gave Giorno one last smile of his own before he walked behind the counter and began greeting the customers, leaving Giorno alone to finally finish his breakfast.

~☆♤☆♡◇~

After scarfing down his meal, Giorno ventured back out on the town to find a way to kill time for the rest of the day. It was either that, or go back to his hotel room and mindlessly work on his laptop. And he did enough of that at home, holed up in his bare bones, gray New York apartment and staring at a screen for hours at a time. It was hardly an ideal living situation, Giorno had always imagined himself living on a beautiful farm somewhere, with plants, or at least in a building that allowed pets. But it was home and did the job when he wasn't pulling all-nighters at his office.

The day was cool, and surprisingly sunny, and Giorno found he didn't mind the lack of scarf as he crunched over the snow and let the wind brush his slightly red cheeks. The town looked a lot different during the day, all glowing white frost and the occasional car skidding by. Giorno smiled privately to himself, glad to know that the lack of people living here hadn't changed. He himself had only been one of maybe 30 kids in his graduating class, and Mista even less.

After some mindless wandering, he found his way over to a small park he used to frequent as a kid, and plopped down on a bench, cringing a little when the ice water seeped through his pants. He stretched out his legs and watched a nearby young couple skate on the frozen lake, laughing and calling for each other as they nearly stumbled and fell. Everytime the shorter of the two, a redheaded girl, nearly landed on her ass, her girlfriend was right at her side to grab her arm and keep her up. The heartwarming sight made Giorno smile, although a part of him ached sadly as well, and he couldn't figure out why.

Giorno gave up watching them after a while and walked back into town, just as the sun was beginning to set. The temperatures had dropped considerably now that the day was waning, and he found himself, deliriously, wishing for someone to hold him and warm him up to keep the chill out of his bones. He pushed the thought down almost as soon as it appeared.

By the time that darkness had completely blanketed Snow Falls, Giorno had gotten hungry, and wandered down the quiet, empty road to the grocery store to pick up some small meals for his hotel room, packing some frozen pasta dishes into a plastic bag and tucking it under his arm. Staring at his meager dinner, his stomach rumbled thinking about Mista's bakery foods, and he weighed the pros and cons of stopping by for more food.

But no. He couldn't, he knew they would see each other later and he almost felt like he needed to prepare to face him again. Speaking of later, Giorno didn't want to be late to meet him. He had just picked up the pace of his walk and hurried down the street, when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something sparkly in the sky, and stopped to squint upwards, wondering if it was a plane or a streetlight or some sort.

Giorno blinked in shock. The entire sky was filled with stars, and he hadn't even noticed until now. The night was lit up with more twinkling lights than he'd see in years, each blinking down at him beautifully. It was a sight so amazing that he almost teared up. How long had it been since he'd seen the stars like this? He'd been in the city for so long at this point that he'd forgotten how amazing this sight was, how breathtaking. How small it could make you feel.

"Wow…" He murmured, the bright stars reflecting back on his wide eyes. He felt young again, staring in wonder at the galaxies spreading out before him, young and full of hope and curiosity. This sight was something he had given up for his dream, and he'd almost missed it. He'd sacrificed the stars, the familiarity of his old home, the worn book stores and bakeries and streets and parks that had filled his after-school life as a teenager.  And….

He'd given up Mista.

Giorno blinked back his tears and pulled away from his musings, remembering himself. Right, he was going back to the hotel room. He was meeting with Mista, so they could see the house, and in a few days he'd be gone and it would be a very long time before he came back. Life continued on, with or without him. He just had to try to keep up.

Finally tearing his eyes away from the infinity of the universe spread out before him, Giorno trudged on.

~☆♤☆♡◇~

True to Mista's word, he came by the old Snow Falls Town Inn that Giorno was staying at and they spent a relatively quiet drive to the house. The times they did talk was mostly small talk just to fill the space. In a way, Giorno found that this was simultaneously just like the old days and not, with how much time had passed between when this had been his life and now, along with the fact that he could feel that there were a lot of things that were being left unsaid. 

As Giorno's old house pulled into view, he was suddenly starting to realize how much of a mistake this potentially was. 

For one thing it was definitely colder and darker out today than it had been when he came by the house the previous day. Which, along with the dim, yellowish tone to the night sky above courtesy of all the snow that was currently falling, gave the house an incredibly creepy feeling to it. 

The house loomed ominously above the pair as they now stood in front of it on the sidewalk. The more they stared at it, the more Giorno could start to feel the almost-oppressive feelings of dread, regret, loneliness, and sadness that he had come to associate with his childhood in that house. 

"Let's go back." Giorno murmured, feeling his heart clench in pain. "I've seen enough."

"Not staying in the old house one last night?" Mista asked, nudging him and pulling him out of his train of thought. Giorno just smiled ruefully.

"I can't. Not alone I can't. It's too big, too empty. And it hurts, Guido. For all the good memories, there were two more bad ones. I just want to never think about it again." He sighed, staring at the chipped paint of the front door. The broken down walls and overgrown garden. It killed him just to look at it.

"Yeah but the good ones were really good." Mista chuckled and without warning, hopped the rickety old gray fence, holding out his hand to help Giorno over. "C'mon, it's not legally in the possession of the county until tomorrow morning. Don't you want to properly say goodbye?"

"Since when has legality ever stopped you." Giorno rolled his eyes, seriously debating the pros and cons of sneaking into his rundown childhood home at 2am with his ex-boyfriend. Why was the ex-boyfriend thing the part he was most comfortable with? "What if there are rusty nails?" He protested weakly.

"I'll pull them out of you." Mista said. "Come on, just one last night for old times sake. These memories were mine too, Giorno." His expression grew a little sad, and Giorno felt his heart clench. He was right: the good times they'd had in this house growing up were still precious to him, after all these years. And he knew they were precious to Mista as well.

"Okay. Fuck it." He murmured, snatching Mista's hand and climbing over the fence into the yard. "No funny business while we're in there, okay? We're simply here to say goodbye."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Mista chuckled, leading him by the hand through the garden like they were at a ball. They reached the steps, and Giorno nudged the door open with his foot, half expecting it to fall over and break. Inside, the foyer hallway loomed menacingly, dark and foreboding.

"Ooh, yeah I kinda regret this." Mista squeezed his hand. "I think the diner is still open if you wanna go do something fun instead."

"Be quiet, you big baby. This was your idea." Giorno whispered back, stifling a giggle. He felt like a teenager again, sneaking into movie theaters clutching Mista's hand tightly as they ducked behind chairs, their pockets stuffed with popcorn they had pilfered when the attendant wasn't looking. 

They ventured further into the house, and Giorno shivered from the cold.

"I think I can feel her ghost in here." Mista muttered, rubbing his arm to warm them up. "Her cold, haunted soul still roams these hallways."

"You would think hell would warm her up." Giorno said, pausing by a crumbling wall that had previously been decorated in old artwork his mother had put up. Basic stuff, beaches and forests and flowers. He distinctly remembered the first time he had gone over to the Mista family house and was surprised that their walls were covered in pictures of the family, all smiling and laughing and posing. 

The paintings were gone now, leaving behind only spots in the plaster where nails had been. Giorno tried not to think too hard about it, and moved to where Mista had walked ahead, examining the kitchen.

"Oh, score!" Mista stood on his tiptoes and reached to the top of the fridge, where an open box of Cap'n Crunch cereal was precariously placed. "You hungry?" He offered the box to Giorno.

"You're gross." Giorno pushed the box out of his face and turned away to look through the cabinets. "If you eat that, I'm leaving right now."

"Mhmmm, so tasty! I love the taste of cardboard!" Behind him, Mista made fake chewing noises and rustled the bag for good effect, eventually giving up when Giorno refused to pay any mind. "Your loss." He shrugged.

The cabinets were blessedly empty, not that they'd ever been full of food in the first place. That was another thing he'd grown up thinking was normal, until Mista's house had changed everything. Mista changed everything for him. 

A spider crawled across his hand, and Giorno gently picked it up and placed it elsewhere with a little smile. "Find a new home, little buddy. Pretty soon this whole place will be cleaned out."

"What was that?" Mista asked, walking over to Giorno's side of the kitchen. He was still clutching the stupid bag of cereal.

"Nothing. Wanna head upstairs?" 

"To the bedrooms? Moving a bit fast, are we?" Mista waggled his eyebrows, but Giorno suddenly wasn't feeling it. Luckily,  Mista caught on pretty quickly and backed off. He was always unfairly good at reading him. Together, they walked up the creaky steps, shag carpeting molding beneath their feet. The silence settled on them heavily as they walked, as they ventured into emotional territory.

At the doorway to his bedroom, Giorno paused and leaned against the frame with his arms crossed. The room hadn't changed one single bit since the last time he was in it, the thin blankets still strewn across the mattress haphazardly, the hardwood floor painted in dirty clothes. She had really never set a single foot in here after Giorno left. The room stood still and silent, like it was frozen in time.

"Next time I'm bringing my own blanket." Mista giggled, brushing his icy toes against Giorno's shin. He was supposed to be sleeping on the mattress on the floor that Giorno had so generously laid out for him, but somehow he always ended up sneaking into his bed for warmth anyway.

"Next time our sleepover will be at your place." Giorno wiggled away from him. "I hate being here."

"I like it. I don't really care where we are, as long as you're there." Mista chirped. Giorno hid his blushing red face in the blanket.

Mista whistled as he wandered into the room, plopping down on the mattress easily and looking around. "Oh yeah, a lot of good memories here. Remember when we stayed up all night playing on your Nintendo 64 and you ate so many cheetos you threw up?"

Giorno wrinkled his nose. "I'd rather not remember, no. That was a dreadful night."

"Okay, here's a happier one: what about the night we dyed your hair and accidentally splattered bleach on the wall?" He smiled mischievously.

That got Giorno thinking. The room was dark, but not too dark that he couldn't find his way around, the faint moonlight from the window helping immensely. He didn't dare try the lightswitch. He carefully stepped his way over the stuff on the floor, and felt around the wall, searching with his fingertips until he bumped into a wiggly panel. Carefully, he pried it loose.

"I have an idea." Mista said, shooting up in excitement immediately. Giorno could practically see the lightbulb appear above his head.

"We change our names and leave the country?" Giorno groaned. He resisted the urge to bury his hands in hair out of stress, knowing it was still very wet and sticky with bleach and it would get everywhere. Not that it wasn't already everywhere. The large dripping stain of bleach currently sapping all the cheap paint off every inch of the wall that it touched, said enough. God, Giorno's parents were gonna kill him.

"No, look!" Mista went over to the spot on the wall that was stained. He poked at it, pointing out the spots where the panels of painted wood met. "Get me a drill. We're gonna bust this thing out of the wall, turn it over to the clean side, and paint over it again.

"Guido, where are we gonna get paint to match my exact wall color this late at night?"

"In my defense, it was a genius plan." Mista shrugged. "If we had had the right color paint.”

Giorno laughed under his breath, examining the bleached panel. That night had not gone as they'd wanted. Mista's plan hadn't worked, but they had actually somehow succeeded in breaking the bleached panels loose off the wall with a drill. So from that night on, Giorno's wall had loose panels hanging on by some heavy duty tape. It was barely more than a gaping hole in the wall. He could even see the drywall behind it now.

But...despite the mess, it still had been one of the best moments of his life. Looking in the mirror and seeing his (somewhat) successfully bleached blonde hair for the first time had been nothing short of magical. He had leapt into Mista's arms with joy and kissed him right there. And that had been before they'd even started dating. They were a little bit hopeless.

"You keep up with the bleach." Mista commented. "Never gotten tired of it?"

"Hm?" Giorno looked up from where he was lost in memory, still staring at the panel he was holding. He hadn't realized, but his free hand had trailed up to touch his hair. "No, it's a part of who I am, I don't want to give it up."

"God, I can barely remember when you had dark hair." Mista chuckled. "It was an entire lifetime ago.

Giorno carefully put the panel back into place, and wandered over to the bed, sitting beside Mista on the worn mattress. Silence stretched thickly between them for a moment, as they stared around the room that they had practically shared for years. And Giorno had shared Mista's bedroom at his house, too. Everything they had, they had together, and from the moment they met as children, their lives and souls had been shared.

"What happened to us, Gio?" Mista murmured, suddenly. "Where did it all go wrong?"

Giorno stiffened, his tone defensive. "Don't ask me that, Guido. I don't have an answer off the top of my head. Do you think I think about it that much?"

"I do." Mista said softly. "I think about it everyday."

"Guido, I don't wanna talk about this." Giorno said, his shoulders beginning to shake.

"Everyday, I wonder at what point did I push you away from me-"

"God, you didn't push me away from you. It wasn't like that!" Giorno protested, feeling hot anger bubble up in his throat. His skin felt hot and itchy despite the cold weather, he felt trapped. This was always how he felt when he was angry at Mista, like he knew it wasn't right to feel this way but he couldn't stop anyway.

"Then what was it like?" Mista demanded. "Tell me. Please, Giorno. Tell me so I can finally sleep at night."

"It was just...it was the right thing to do. I did what I had to do, Guido.." He struggled to find the words, the trapped feeling only growing stronger by the second.

"The right thing. Breaking my heart and not even telling me why was the right thing to do." Mista recoiled in shock.

"God, I knew this was a mistake coming here!" Giorno got off the bed and rushed to the door, desperate to get away before the anger in his throat turned to tears in his eyes. Deep down, he knew. Giorno knew it was his fault, and he was being irrational. And he hated it. He hated confronting the fact that he had hurt the one he loved irreparably, so he ran from it. Like he ran from everything else. And he let his guilt turn to anger.

"I can't do this-" He took the stairs down two at a time.

"Giorno, I'm sorry, wait-!" Mista bolted after him, crashing into the wall and sending dust everywhere as he tried to catch up with him. "Wait!"

"Why are you apologizing?!" Giorno whirled around at the foot of the stairs, icy blonde hair flying, looking back at Mista with furious tears dripping down his cheeks. "I dumped you, left you with no good explanation to go hundreds of miles away, I treat you like this , and you're apologizing to me!"

Mista stopped short. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He said quietly.

"Why won't you get mad at me?" Giorno asked mournfully, burying his face in his hands to hide Mista's heartbroken face from his view. "I've hurt you so much, aren't you angry? Why are you so nice to me?"

Mista went silent, and Giorno heard the quiet steps of his boots over dust and debris as he got closer to him, finally stopping in front of him. There was a space of a second between them, and then Giorno felt Mista's arms wrap around his shoulders, hesitantly.

"Is this okay-?" 

" Yes." Giorno choked. He couldn't express how much this felt like coming home after a long, exhausting day. He leaned into Mista's arms, and in turn he squeezed him tighter with growing confidence.

"I was so angry, Giorno." He said. "I was so angry, for so long. I felt like I would never forgive you. I felt splintered. You broke my heart, Giorno." Mista whispered, his brutally honest words ripping right through the remains of Giorno's resolve. "And I love you so much, still." 

Giorno felt a fresh wave of tears spring to his eyes, and he fought them back by huddling closer into Mista's embrace.

"It never helped me. My anger never did anything good for me but made me feel worse." He continued, his voice growing softer, softer than the gleaming snow on the streets. "And I knew that even if you didn't tell me, you had a reason. I couldn't be mad at you forever because I knew you were probably in pain too."

"I was." Giorno sniffled. "I still am." 

"Me too." Mista laughed wetly, and Giorno felt weirdly relieved to know he was crying too. He thought heavily, for a moment, about his own anger. His anger at Mista for being so goddamn good at managing his feelings, at himself for doing what he did and running. And how exhausted he was being angry. How sick he was of hurting and blaming himself, when Mista was right here and holding him. What good was all this sadness when they had each other after all these years?

Giorno pulled back from his arms, finally gathering up the courage to look him in the eyes. "Guido, I didn't want to do it."

"Then why, why did you break up with me? How long were you unhappy?" The Mista in the bedroom returned, his eyes growing desperate for an answer after years of wondering. Even if he had let go of his anger, he hadn't let go of his desperation. He hadn't fully healed.

"I wasn’t, I wasn't unhappy!" Giorno shook his head quickly. "I loved you, I wanted to be with you! But I was-I was-"

"Scared?" Mista finished for him.

"Frightened. I didn't know if we could stay together with our different paths, Guido. Your heart was in Snow Falls, my entire life's goal was in New York. How could that be functional for a relationship?"

"You didn't even want to try?"

"I didn't want to put you through that." Giorno said. "What kind of life is that, together but always separated? What were we going to do for the rest of our lives, have two of everything in both of our homes? Two houses, two weddings so both our friends could come? Plane tickets every weekend to cart our future children back and forth between us?"

"It wouldn't have been like that." Mista insisted. "We could have made it work."

"You deserved better." Giorno said mournfully. "I can't give you the life you want, not as long as my career stays the way it is." 

"You were all I wanted." Mista said, his dark, dark eyes shining in the low light. One of his hands slid up slowly to cup Giorno's cheek. There, standing in the ruined remains of his childhood home, cold dust swirling around their joined bodies, Giorno felt his heart begin to beat again after so many years of suffering. "I didn't, and I still don’t care what I have to give up."

"Then why didn’t you come with me when I left for college?" Giorno whispered. 

Mista opened his mouth to speak, but imperceptibly, his eyes shifted to something behind Giorno, staring with a furrowed, confused brow. Giorno turned his head to peer. "What is it-?"

Behind him, the one dirty window looking out into the front yard that hadn't been cracked was beginning to cloud up heavily with frost, at an alarming rate. Giorno shivered, realizing the temperature in the house had dropped about 10 degrees while they were arguing. He turned back to look at Mista, but he was already making his way over to the door.

"Shit." He murmured, stepping out onto the porch. "Giorno, it's really coming down out here."

"The forecast said tonight would be clear, though!" Giorno walked out behind him, finding that he was right, the snow was falling faster and faster by the second, and soon it would blanket everything and make the roads too slippery and dangerous to drive on. "What do we do?"

Mista grimaced, and dug into his pockets for his keys. "If we hurry, we can get back to the bakery before it gets too bad. Say goodbye to the place, Giorno."

Giorno blinked back a sudden rush of emotion, and turned back to the decrepit house, lifting a hand to gingerly place it against the wooden banister on the porch. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of nothing but two kids falling in love under this roof, eons ago, nothing more than faint memories now. Sharing blankets, lives, kisses, their meals. When everything was easy and beautiful. 

He wasn't quite sure if he was ready to say goodbye to the house. So he said goodbye to them instead, those two boys who would never be able to picture their lives apart. His heart ached for them, and if he tried hard enough, he could still hear their laughter echoing up and down the halls, forever in love even as time moved past them.

"So long." He murmured, softly.

Filled with resolve, Giorno turned back to Mista, who was watching him like he was having the exact same moment he was, when faced with his younger self. "Let's go. We don't have much time."

~☆♤☆♡◇~

Mista's truck rumbled along the dark road, and the two of them sat in tense silence the whole time. On the way to the house they'd chattered about little things like work and Mista's family, but now there was nothing good to talk about after everything they'd said to each other in the house.

'Mista told me he still loves me.' Giorno realized with a jolt, knocking his head hard against the window. Holy shit. With everything happening, he'd failed to process that incredibly important moment.

"Ow…" He mumbled, rubbing his forehead.

"You okay?" Mista barely took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at him, before looking back, expression frustrated as he concentrated on navigating them through the increasingly heavy snow.

"I'm fine. How long till we get there?"

Mista blew air out through his nose. "I don’t know, Giorno. I can barely see the road signs. Maybe 15 minutes, if we're lucky."

"This town isn’t even 15 minutes wide." Giorno said, and Mista cracked a brief smile. The tension eased between them for a second, until the car began to rumble and shake, the wheel vibrating in Mista's grip.

"Fuck, please don't do this right now. Please don't be too late." Mista cursed, slamming his hand down on the dashboard. As if just to spite him, the car made a solid thumping noise, and began to veer across the slippery, icy road. "Shit!"

"Look out!" Giorno cried as a pole came into view of the dim headlights, just as Mista managed to get the car under control and brake to a stop before they could slam into it. "What the hell just happened?" 

"I can't drive in this weather. It's way too dangerous, Giorno. I can't even see the road now." Mista said shortly, opening up the door and stepping out into the merciless and unforgiving snow to examine the road ahead. Giorno anxiously waited in the seat, feeling his hands shake in nervousness at the sudden car troubles. This was horribly inconvenient, now of all times.

After a second Mista got back into the car and slammed the door so hard that Giorno feared he would shatter the window. "Looks like we're stuck here." 

"Stuck here? For how long?" Giorno asked nervously. The idea of being out here in the dark and cold for possibly hours made fear bubble up in his chest, hot and heavy.

"We're sitting here until the snow plows come. I trust them to come quickly." Mista said firmly. He inhaled deeply, as if trying to calm himself down.

Giorno gave a small nod, and they lapsed into more prolonged silence. He didn't know what to say to Mista, not while he was frustrated like this. A part of him wanted to bring up their discussion from earlier, but he felt like his gut was boiling with too much anxiety right now for that.

Wordlessly, Mista slid his hand across the space between them, palm turned up. A peace offering. Giorno blinked in surprise, and took his hand, and together the two of them watched the snow build up around the car, holding tight onto each other the whole time as the temperature steadily dropped.

"Hey. We'll be alright, okay? We won't be here for long." Mista said softly, squeezing his hand. "They'll be an hour, at the most. And my heater is powerful." To emphasize this, he leaned over and turned up his heater even more, blasting Giorno with a gush of warm air, for which he was grateful. He gave Mista a weak smile.

"I don't really care where we are, as long as you're there." Giorno said, and watched as Mista's face bloomed with love and joy, all of his frustration melting away like snow. He blinked away a few tears, eyes glittering with mirth.

"Giorno, when-"

Giorno stopped him from speaking by leaning in close and pressing their foreheads together, closing his eyes and letting the warmth of Mista's skin comfort him. "You don't have to say anything." He said softly. "It's my turn to explain."

"Okay." Mista whispered.

"I love you so much, and I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for hurting you like I did. I..." Giorno swallowed his fear and kept going. "I let the city change me. It made me into someone I hated, I let their words affect me and I ended up leaving you because I was scared of my past."

"How could you ever be scared of this?" Mista asked, lifting Giorno's knuckle to kiss it, barely more than a brush of chapped lips against his hand.

"Not this, never this." Giorno assured him. "But my old life, I couldn't stand the idea of being here forever, I wanted to move on and grow up. This town was like a cold prison, Guido. And I couldn't understand why you wanted to stay."

"I don't really care where we are-" Mista started.

"-As long as you're there, I know." Giorno closed his eyes. "But at the time, I couldn't think about that. All I could think about was her. I had to get away. She was crushing me."

"I'm sorry. I should have known." Mista whispered, pushing his forehead further into Giorno's like he was trying to meld their bodies together. "I should have understood. I wanted to stay here and run the family bakery, but I didn't realize that would kill you."

Giorno sniffled, smiling a little. "You know, I thought a lot about coming home last summer while I was recovering from surgery-" He stopped short suddenly, blinking as he realized what he had just said. Mista opened his eyes and pulled back, staring at him in surprise.

"What? What surgery?"

Giorno ducked his head away, too scared to look Mista in the eyes, to see the hurt building in them "My-my top surgery-"

"You got it?" Mista asked in a small voice. "Giorno, I'm so happy for you, but-"

"I know. I know you wanted to be there, but I didn't know if I would ever see you again. And I had a chance so I took it."

While getting his double mastectomy last June had been Giorno's dream come true, and been every bit as joyous as he had hoped, the recovery had been slow and, well... lonely. As teenagers he and Mista had made so many promises, one of them being that Mista would be by his side when his dream came true, and help him with recovery the whole time. 

Instead, Giorno came home to an empty apartment with dishes that needed to be done, laundry that needed to be folded, and no Mista in sight to take care of him. Trish had tried, and he was grateful for her, but she wasn't him. She wasn't what he had wanted for so many years. And he knew then that nothing could replace that spot in his heart.

"I missed it." Mista said, sounding so close to tears. "I missed that moment, I've missed so many important moments in your life, because I wasn't there. I should have been there for you, like we talked about."

"But you're here now." Giorno said, voice verge on desperation. He fell into Mista’s arms, stretched awkwardly between the cupholders between their seats, but he didn't care. "You're here now, and that's all that matters. You won't have to miss any more. I love you, Guido."

"I love you, Giorno." Mista gently cupped his face and pulled his head up, their faces so close together that they were breathing the same air, it swirled around them in visible puffs as they stared into each other's eyes. So close that Giorno could just reach out and bridge the gap between them in the space of a heartbeat. It would be so easy.

"Giorno, stay with me please." Mista threaded his hands through his long blond hair, his voice barely audible but still so deathly loud in the silence of the car. "Stay with me here. She's gone, she can't hurt you anymore. We can be happy here."

Giorno was leaning in close to kiss him, to finally feel the lips of his beloved against his own for the first time in so many years, when their moment was interrupted by the tinny jingle of Mista’s cell phone ringing

Mista sighed as he then pulled away, wiping away a few stray tears, the mood having been killed and their chance was interrupted. Giorno almost wished he would just ignore it, but he knew it was probably important. He reached into his pocket and then pulled out his phone and answered it. 

“Hello?” Mista answered. 

As Mista listened to the voice on the other end of the line, Giorno pulled out his own phone and checked to see if he had any new messages or missed calls. He saw that he didn’t, and he also noticed that he had no cell service. Be it due to a weak cell tower signal due to the snow, or the fact that Giorno’s phone carrier more likely served areas that were more metropolitan than rural, or some combination of the two, it now meant that Giorno didn’t have any means of calling people until he were to get back to his hotel room and had access to wifi. 

“Wait, hang on,” Mista said, a frown now sat on his face as Giorno listened. “Why are you all at my bakery?”

Giorno watched Mista’s frown deepen as he listened to the voice on the other end of the line. He then sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“So, wait,” Mista continued. “You mean to tell me that my bakery is basically the ONLY place with power in the entire town???” His eyes grew wide as he said this, as if finally making some kind of revelation.

The voice on the other end of the line said something, and then Mista closed his eyes, nodded, and opened them again. 

“Alright.” He said. “Tell everyone I’ll be back in around 15-20 minutes. I’m currently on the road and the snowplows only just came to clear my path.” He explained as Giorno saw the aforementioned snowplows pull into view and get to work. 

Mista then hung up and turned to face Giorno. “We need to go back to the bakery.” He said. 

“I gathered that much.” Giorno said, giving Mista a worried look. “Will everything be okay?” He asked. 

“I mean,” Mista began, his frown deepening as he did. “It turns out that everyone in town is cold and hungry because the power has been out due to the snow, and my bakery is the only place that has any of it right now because I bought a backup generator a few years ago.” He explained. “So now they’re all gathered outside of my bakery and waiting for me to come back.” 

“Oh my god.” Giorno said as he started to realize the gravity of the situation. 

“I know.” Mista groaned, placing his forehead against the steering wheel in what felt like defeat. “I don’t know how I’m gonna manage all of those people in my bakery at once.” 

As Giorno watched Mista speak and ponder how he was going to handle his situation, an idea popped into Giorno’s head. 

“I can help you.” Giorno offered. 

Mista sat up straight, his eyes wide as he turned around and faced Giorno. “Wait, are you serious?” He asked. 

Giorno nodded. “You helped me with the house.” He explained. “It’s only right that I help you out with the bakery today.” 

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” Mista asked. “Don’t feel pressured to help me out or anyth–”

Giorno pressed his finger to Mista’s lips and shushing him in the process. “I want to help out.” He said. “Just let me help you, okay?” 

Mista nodded, and Giorno could have sworn that Mista’s cheeks had turned slightly pinker in the bright light of the snowplow’s headlights in front of them. 

“Okay.” Mista finally said, as Giorno pulled his finger away with a smile. 

At that moment, the last of the snow was finally cleared from Giorno and Mista’s path. The snow plows pulled to the side, allowing Giorno and Mista space to pass through.

“We should probably get going.” Mista said, finally shifting the car from “parked” to “drive” and gently stepping on the gas, causing the pickup truck to drive down the road and back towards town. “We’re gonna have a lot of work to do.”

~☆♤☆♡◇~

By the time Mista and Giorno drove up to the front of Mista’s bakery, an enormous crowd had formed outside the door. 

After parking the truck, somewhat close to the bakery, Giorno and Mista hurried to the front of the bakery. The sound of loud, worried chatter filled the air as the townspeople talked amongst themselves, shivering and rubbing their arms or rebundling their scarves as they milled about.

“I’m here, guys!” Mista shouted, taking out his keys and jingling them as the people on the outer edges of the crowd started to step aside to allow for Mista to make his way to the front door. “I’m gonna need you all to clear a path so I can get through to the door!” 

At this point, everyone in the crowd heard this, and they quickly parted and cleared a path. 

Mista and Giorno rushed to the front. Mista then started unlocking the door. The lock clicked as it unlocked, and Mista opened the door, letting out some of the sweet, inviting warmth of the bakery out into the cold winter air outside. 

The feeling of warmth and the scent of baked goods wafting out to the streets outside only served to excite the crowd more, as the chatter and got louder and the crowd started to get pushier as everyone rushed for a chance to be one of the first ones inside as Giorno and Mista stepped through the front door. As Mista turned on the lights and shook the snow off of his clothes, the rest of the townspeople all rushed inside the bakery after Giorno and Mista. Mista quickly turned on the electric fireplace to provide another heat source for the people gathered in their shop, and then immediately headed to the counter and began turning on the coffee maker and the kettle. Giorno followed after him as he did. 

“So, what do we need to do?” Giorno asked, glancing out at the crowd of people all warming themselves up and gathering around the counter expectantly, eyeing the coffee maker and the empty display cases where just hours before, had been filled with fresh pastries. 

“Well, first we’re gonna make hot drinks for everyone who wants some.” Mista said as the coffee maker started to beep, letting him know it was done brewing the contents inside. “So grab some mugs and help me fill them up.” He said, tilting his head in the direction of the rack full of mugs hung up on the wall. “We’re gonna leave out some tea bags, sugar, creamer, and hot cocoa mix for everyone to help themselves with whatever they want. And then after that, we’re gonna head to the kitchen to bake some things.” 

“Wait, baking at this hour?” Giorno asked. “Wouldn’t that be too time-intensive?” 

Mista shook his head. “There was some bread dough I had left proofing in the fridge for a couple hours.” He explained. “Plus some sugar cookie and chocolate chip cookie dough.” He added. “And it doesn’t take a whole lot of time to just put together a gingerbread dough either.” He explained. 

Well that made sense. But still, something else didn’t. 

“Are we going to make them pay for any of this?” Giorno asked, eyeing all the people who were now staring at him and Mista as they spoke amongst themselves.

“No, I’m not gonna do that to them.” Mista replied, shaking his head as he did. “These are people in need, I can’t just charge them money, that’s like kicking them while they’re down.” He explained. 

“But you also can’t just spend so much money on using all of these supplies without making at least some of it back.” Giorno added, thinking back to how many costly mistakes he had made at the beginning of his career where he would often take on projects for free out of his own pocket just for the sake of building a portfolio. He shuddered at the thought of something similar happening to Mista. “It’s just not good business sense.” He explained.

“I’ve had some savings put into a rainy-day fund in case something ever happened.” Mista explained. “I can just take it all out of there.” He then gave Giorno a reassuring smile. “C’mon, Gio. Don’t worry about me, okay?” He said gently. 

Giorno paused as he let the meaning of Mista’s words finally sink in. And once they did, Giorno felt an affectionate twinge in his heart as he realized just how big Mista’s own heart was, to just open his bakery to all the townspeople to warm them, feed them, and provide them safety and shelter all on his own time and his own dime. If there was one thing for sure that time had done for Mista, it had only served to make him kinder, sweeter, more generous and loving. And just thinking about it made Giorno feel a warmth in his heart, one that was comforting, steady, and gentle as the fire in the fireplace that a few people were huddled around. Mista truly was too damn good of a person. 

“Okay.” Giorno finally agreed with a nod as he looked up at Mista. “Let’s do it.” 

“Great!” Mista beamed. He gently patted Giorno on the shoulder before he turned around to face the crowd. 

“Everybody listen up!” He shouted, making his voice loud enough to be heard over all the murmuring and muttering and gossiping of the townspeople. 

All the chattering stopped as everyone turned their attention to face Mista and Giorno. 

“We’re gonna bring out some hot drinks for all of you on the house!” He explained, much to the cheers of the people in the bakery. “And in about an hour, we can get some fresh-baked goods for you guys that’ll also be free, so just sit tight, make yourselves comfortable, and enjoy your time, alright?”

The cheers grew louder and people began to clap in response to what Mista just said. 

Mista then turned to face Giorno and he then nodded. 

“Let’s get to work.” He said with a grin. “We don’t have a lot of time to waste."

The next hour passed in an absolute rush of flour, sugar, and panicked yelling. Lots of panicked yelling. But despite the chaos of a bakery full of freezing people and an overheating kitchen full of half-made baked goods, Giorno smiled more during that hour than he had in months . The rush of adrenaline was wonderful, he and Mista ran back and forth across the kitchen grabbing ingredients and dough, brushing shoulders occasionally and shooting each other little grins as they focused on their work.

"Giorno, pass me the spatula." Mista called, elbow deep in some brioche dough. "I'm a bit tied up here."

"Got it!" Giorno whirled around and grabbed a plastic spatula, tossing it to Mista across the kitchen. They both watched as it missed Mista's outstretched hand and clattered to the ground. There was a brief second of silence, before they both dissolved into laughter.

"Okay now try again and don 't miss this time. We're in a rush Giorno!"

"I didn't miss, you just didn't catch." Giorno smirked, grabbing another spatula and placing it beside him, before returning back to the cookies he was dusting with cinnamon sugar. "Hey, is there anything more useful I can do than this?"

"That's pretty damn useful. But uh…" Mista looked around the kitchen for a second. "Hey, you wanna take over kneading this brioche while I get started on the gingerbread?"

Giorno blinked, faltering a bit. "Sure…? I can try?" He said lamely.

“What’s wrong?” Mista asked, noticing Giorno’s hesitation as he stared at the lump of dough in front of him. A perplexed expression sat on Giorno’s face as he did. 

“So, I’ve never exactly made bread before.” Giorno admitted, glancing at the dough, and then at Mista, and then back at the dough again. “So I don’t exactly know how to knead it.” He explained. “What if I get it wrong? How do I know if I’ve kneaded it enough? What if I knead it too much?” He was completely and utterly lost, and the number of questions he rattled off more than showed that. “I don’t want to mess up the bread. Especially not while the customers are expecting something as good as what you make.” 

Mista felt a twinge in his heart as he realized Giorno’s sudden insecurity at his abilities. “You’re not gonna fuck it up.” He said reassuringly. “And if it helps, I can show you how I knead bread dough so you can learn.”

“I could actually use a tutorial.” Giorno admitted with a nod. “Can you please show me, if you're not too busy?"

“Sure.”

Giorno then felt Mista step behind him and reach his arms around Giorno before he gently took Giorno’s hands in his and guided them to the dough before he began to guide his hands through the kneading motions.

Giorno froze for a moment as he tried to comprehend what was happening, but then just as quickly, he couldn’t help but sigh a little as he leaned himself back and into Mista’s embrace, absorbing some of the gentle warmth that was practically radiating off of his broad chest and strong arms. His heart was beating faster as he felt Mista’s big, gentle, calloused hands cover his and began to guide them through the kneading motions. Push in, roll, squeeze. Push in, roll, squeeze. Push in, roll, squeeze…

Giorno didn’t complain at all as while he and Mista settled into a gentle rhythm of kneading the dough, he felt Mista gently rest his chin on his shoulder and lean in closer, like as if he were almost embracing Giorno. Well, he might as well have been. That was so sneaky of him, and yet Giorno would be lying if he said he didn’t like it. 

Giorno sighed contentedly, savoring the moment, the warmth, and the tranquil joy, away from the chaos out at the front of the bakery if at least for a moment. 

"Hey! What's going on in here? There's people here needing baked goods!" Someone called loudly, suddenly. Both Giorno and Mista jerked up from their little moment to see Narancia standing at the doorway to the bakery, dusted in snow and red faced, looking between them like he knew exactly what was happening here and what he was interrupting.

"Please tell me you're here to help." Mista said.

"I was mostly here to snag a cookie, but I guess I could help." Narancia shrugged, elbowing between them to grab at the dough. "Now get to work! You've got customers, no canoodling!"

"Why are you telling me what to do, this is my bakery." Mista grumbled, but relented to move aside and let him in. He cast Giorno a wistful little glance.

' Later. ' Giorno mouthed, and with a smile the two of them got back to baking for the whole town.

~☆♤☆♡◇~

It was well after 2am, when the entire town finally got the power back. One minute Giorno, Mista, and Narancia had been hurriedly trying to hand out cookies to the mothers with crying babies, and the next everyone was rushing to the windows as every building around and all of their Christmas lights suddenly lit up at once.

"Woah…" Mista murmured, staring out at the town, now looking absolutely beautiful coated in snow and lit up with the golden glow of every building in the area. "Guess we got lucky, huh? This could have lasted until tomorrow."

Giorno wiped some sweat off his forehead, leaving a streak of flour behind on his skin. He felt dead on his feet from hours of work. "Ugh, don't even suggest that." 

Mista walked over to him, carefully cleaning the flour off of him with his thumb, and the two of them shared a soft smile for a moment. All around them, people were packing up to leave. The chaos had all but died down, and was now a gentle murmur of conversation as the townsfolk gathered up their free baked goods (including Mista's smash hit of a brioche loaf, which he proudly gave credit to Giorno for) and picked up their sleeping children and began to try to brave the cold to head home, all stopping to thank Mista emphatically for his kindness and good will. 

When the bakery was finally empty around 3:30, the last of the stragglers closing the door behind him, Mista promptly slumped over into a chair and groaned loudly. "Oh my god."

"Oh my god." Narancia intoned, from where he was pressing his face into the countertop.

"My god." Giorno was sitting beside Mista, his head leaning on his shoulder and his eyes fluttering close from pure exhaustion. "I haven't been this tired since I pulled an all-nighter for my 'History of Polka Dots' class."

Mista blindly reached over and patted Giorno's head, succeeding in just smushing his hair against his sweaty cheek. "Don't pass out on me now, we still gotta clean up."

It was Giorno's turn to groan loudly. "Do we have to? I think I just want to crawl into a warm bed and sleep for 17 hours." 

"I think Narancia's already well on his way." Mista murmured, nudging Giorno to look up. He lifted his head and peered over at Narancia, who was snoring loudly, still standing up over the counter as he slept.

"Should we wake him up?" Giorno giggled.

"No, let him rest. I...kind of like when it's just us anyway." Mista glanced down shyly, his long, dark eyelashes quivering against his cheek, and Giorno felt his heart pick up speed. They really were finally alone. 

"C'mon, the dishes will get done quicker if it's both of us together." 

The two men made their way over to the destroyed mess of a kitchen, where dishes and flour coated every surface of the small space. There was even a spot of dough that had gotten splattered on the wall, and Giorno chuckled when he stopped by it.

"Familiar, huh?" He smiled, remembering the bleach stain. Mista just rolled his eyes at him with a grin.

Giorno quickly got to work scrubbing at the baking pans piling up in the sink, humming along to the music playing over Mista's old radio. Earlier, he could barely hear it over the sound of the crowd, but now he could finally enjoy it as he worked. After a few minutes, he noticed Mista had vanished.

"Guido?" He called curiously, setting down the scrub brush. "Where'd you go?"

Giorno walked to the entryway that bordered between the kitchen and the shop, and then frowned as he still didn’t see Mista. He walked out further, glancing around as he did.

Giorno turned around and almost immediately bumped into Mista’s broad chest. Mista had a wide grin on his face and as Giorno glanced up, he saw that Mista held a sprig of fresh mistletoe over their heads. 

Giorno rolled his eyes and then smiled. “Mistletoe? Really?” He asked, raising his eyebrow at the sight. “Where did you even get that?” 

“I found it in the tip jar.” Mista said nonchalantly. “I’m pretty sure one of the customers put it there, but don’t quote me on it.” Mista then smirked. “So, what do you say?” Mista said. “Wanna honor a time-honored tradition?” He waggled his eyebrows at Giorno as he said this. 

“You are absolutely ridiculous.” Giorno said with an affectionate roll of his eyes. 

“But is that a ‘yes?’” Mista asked. His voice was full of hope as he did. 

“I don’t know,” Giorno replied with a smirk of his own. “Would this count as a yes?”

And with that, Giorno grabbed Mista’s lapels, and pulled him in close and all but crashed their lips together. 

Mista let out a muffled noise of surprise at this, but then his eyes closed, and Giorno felt Mista gently wrap his arms around him and pull him closer as he deepened the kiss, and Giorno felt his eyelids flutter shut as he sighed and kissed Mista back.

The kiss was absolutely magical. It was more magical than Giorno could have ever expected. And yet, it was just as familiar as all of those countless kisses they had stolen in their teenage years. It was like time slowed down, and everything else around them had all but disappeared as he was wrapped up in Mista’s warm embrace. Mista smelled of coffee, gingerbread, and powdered sugar, and he tasted of it too. And in this moment, Giorno felt like he had finally returned home. 

When they eventually had to separate for air, it was extremely reluctant. There was a dazed and dreamy expression on Mista’s face as he slowly pulled apart and gazed at Giorno with those gorgeous, soulful brown eyes of his, and Giorno just knew that he was mirroring that same expression back at him. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” Mista whispered. 

“Me too. I didn't even realize just how much I've missed this." Giorno trailed off as he gazed up at Mista. “No man back in New York could ever kiss me like you do.” His voice was soft, barely a whisper now, as if he didn’t want to ruin such a delicate moment by raising his voice any louder. 

A comfortable silence fell between the two as they now stood in the middle of the empty shop, all wrapped up in each other’s warm embrace as the cold snow fell outside the festively-decorated bakery window like they were in a scene from a snow globe, or a cheesy Christmas movie. The only sound that could be heard was the crackle of the fireplace, and the dulcet tones of some crooner, maybe Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby or even Dean Martin, singing over some dreamy piano and string quartet instrumentals as music from the radio played over the bakery’s speaker system. 

Without even realizing it, the pair began to slowly sway in place in time to the music. Giorno slowly loosened his grip on Mista’s lapels, and then gently looped his arms around Mista’s neck as he then pressed his forehead against Mista’s. 

As they continued slow-dancing, Giorno and Mista’s lips met once more in another kiss, softer, sweeter, and gentler than the first time, Giorno wished so much that here in their own little pocket of paradise, this moment would never end. 

Luckily for him, Mista felt much the same.

~☆♤☆♡◇~

The next day passed by in a blissful blur.

The roads leading out of Snow Falls still weren’t entirely clear yet, and after they had finally cleaned up the kitchen and sent Narancia home, it was 5 am.

Mista had taken Giorno back to his house, at this point with the pair having had an unspoken mutual desire to spend the night together after so long apart. Giorno was done sleeping in his bed alone.

Well, they ended up spending the night differently than they had hoped, as almost immediately upon laying down on the soft mattress of Mista’s bed, they had more or less just collapsed into a deep sleep, cuddled up in the warmth of each other’s arms. They had slept until 1 pm, at which point, they finally, FINALLY got to do the other kind of sleeping together. 

They had really only finally gotten out of bed when Mista’s puppies all started barking, practically demanding that they be fed and taken for their walks. 

With much laughter, the pair had gotten changed and put their clothes back on, with Mista loaning Giorno one of his old Christmas sweaters the moment Giorno noticed that the one he had been wearing yesterday was covered in flour and would need to be washed.

Then, Giorno had finally gotten to meet the Sex Pistols, who had all eagerly clamored around Giorno, tails wagging frantically as they were practically scrambling and begging for his attention. Giorno had always thought he was more of a cat person, but he had to admit that Mista’s puppies were absolutely adorable, and they had more than won him over. 

And so, Giorno helped Mista walk his dogs, laughing as he watched them all walk in front of each other’s paths, or pull the pair together and getting them tangled up in a mess of leashes like they were in that one scene from ‘101 Dalmations’, which Giorno wistfully remembered he had watched with Mista during a sleepover while they were kids.

And now, here they were, finally warming up by the fireplace of Mista’s house, just talking and laughing and cuddling up together just like they did in the good old days. 

“This has been so much fun.” Mista said, slinging his arm around Giorno’s shoulder and pulling him even closer under the blanket that was wrapped around the both of them. “I really can’t thank you enough for helping me out these last couple of days.” He said. 

“I should be saying the same to you.” Giorno said with a smile. “I didn’t think I’d enjoy my time here in Snow Falls again, but you’ve more than proved me wrong.” 

“Awww, are you admitting that I’m the reason why you like being here now?” Mista teased with a smile.

Before Giorno could answer that question, at that moment, for the first time in days, Giorno’s cell phone finally rang, having apparently picked up enough of a signal after all the snow to allow him to be able to contact the world outside of Snow Falls. 

Giorno pulled it out, and saw Trish’s name flash on the caller ID. He then noticed the date and the time, and suddenly he was brought out of his snowy little pocket of paradise and back to a colder, harsher reality as it all clicked into place about what he had just missed. 

Fearing the worst had happened with his fashion show, he frantically swiped on his phone to accept the call, and held the phone to his ear. 

“Giorno! Holy shit, I’ve been trying to reach you for DAYS!” Trish practically screeched before Giorno could even mutter a word of greeting. “Where the Hell have you been?” 

“I’m sorry.” Giorno apologized, turning away from Mista as he stepped away to take his conversation to a more quiet location. “There was a really bad snowstorm in my hometown. It was so bad that I lost my cell signal, and nobody could get in or get out of town because they hadn’t cleared out all the roads leading out of the mountains.” He explained. Then, the more pressing concern popped into Giorno’s mind. “What happened with my fashion show? Is everything okay? Did anything go wrong?” 

A million questions were swirling in Giorno’s mind as he tried his best to keep his hand from trembling in fear as he waited for Trish’s response. It was bad enough that he had basically missed the debut of his first-ever fashion line, but if something had gone wrong, it would basically undo years of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice, oh God, all the sacrifice it took to get him to this point in his life. 

“No. Nothing went wrong.” Trish finally said. 

Giorno breathed out a sigh of relief at this, feeling like he could finally breathe ever since Trish had called him. 

“Actually, the opposite happened. It went really, really well!” Trish exclaimed.

“Wait, are you serious?” Giorno asked, feeling a surge of excitement jolt through his veins and straight through his heart. “Trish, if you are pulling my leg right now, I swear I will not forgive y–” 

“Gio, it’s real. I’m telling the truth.” Trish cut Giorno off. “There are so many designers who are calling me and trying to talk to me right now because they want me to put you in contact with them so they can talk about working with you.” 

Giorno felt his eyes widen as he stood up straighter as soon as the full meaning of Trish’s words finally sank in. Was this really happening? After all these years of waiting for this moment, it now felt so fake and unreal now that it actually was coming true, right in real time. For years, Giorno had run through dozens, if not hundreds of possible scenarios in his head of how his career could take off, and what he’d do, what he’d say, how he’d feel, how he’d react when he realized it. He thought he had mapped it all out in his head so that when the time came, he would have the perfect reaction, the perfect follow-up plan, the perfect everything. And yet out of those hundreds of scenarios, none of them even remotely matched the situation that Giorno now found himself in, here in his childhood hometown hundreds of miles away, huddled around a warm fireplace with his first love that he never thought he’d rekindle things with, wearing a tacky Christmas sweater, and having almost forgotten to show up to his own fashion line’s debut because he had just assumed the roads were still snowed in and never bothered to check.

This now left him feeling so lost and confused that the only thing he could say was: 

“ What do I do ?” 

Giorno felt Mista take his hand, and gently squeeze it for reassurance. Which, ironically, somehow served to make Giorno feel even less reassured as he already knew just what Trish was about to say in response to that. 

“What do you do?” Trish practically squawked in response. “ What do you do?!?” She said again, her voice completely dripping with disbelief. “You’re going to get out of that backwater mountain town that you call Snow Falls, get on the next plane out to New York City, and talk to these designers IMMEDIATELY. That’s what you’re going to do.” She ordered. “This is your dream that we’re talking about here, Giorno. I can’t believe I even have to tell you this.” 

Giorno closed his eyes, and then sighed deeply. 

“I’ll need to call you back, Trish.” Giorno finally replied, suddenly feeling the weight of everything hit him all at once, sinking in and weighing him down.

“Well, don’t keep me waiting too long.” Trish said. “Everybody is asking where you are and I can only keep stalling these guys for so long.

And with that, a click was heard and the line went dead, leaving behind a long and drawn-out dial tone in Trish’s wake. 

Giorno sighed and hung up the phone before he turned to face Mista. 

“What’s going on?” Mista asked, his features clouded with an expression of concern as Giorno’s eyes met his. 

“So, for starters, I missed my fashion show.” Giorno began. 

“Oh, Giorno.” Mista said gently, squeezing Giorno’s hand as he did. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But, then I got a call from my friend who has basically been running things while I’ve been gone,” Giorno continued, gently shaking his head as he did. “And she said that it was a huge hit.” 

Mista’s look of condolence quickly changed first to a look of surprise, followed immediately by one of pride and excitement. 

“Giorno, oh my God, that’s INCREDIBLE!” Mista exclaimed, bringing his other hand up to grip Giorno’s arm and pull him closer. “I’m so proud of you!” 

Giorno closed his eyes, swallowed thickly, nodded his head in acknowledgement of what Mista just said, and then opened his eyes. 

“That’s not all.” He finally added. 

“What is it?” Mista asked. 

“My friend said that a ton of designers want to work with me, and they literally all want to talk to me right now.” Giorno added. “And she’s demanding that I go back to New York right now but…” Giorno then trailed off hesitantly as he felt that uncertainty start to creep back inside of his heart the more he thought about it. 

“But what?” Mista prompted gently. 

“But I’m not sure if I should go.” Giorno finally admitted, fiddling with the sleeves of his sweater as he did. All of this was too much, it was starting to get overwhelming the more Giorno thought about it. Mista seemed to be the only person right now who Giorno thought could give a bit of clarity to his situation. 

“Giorno,” Mista said as a look of disbelief crossed his features. “You have to go. This is your dream we’re talking about here.” He explained. “You’ve wanted this for so long.” 

“I know but–” 

“No ‘buts.’” Mista said, shaking his head. “You’re going.” 

“But the roads are closed.” Giorno protested weakly. “How will I even be able to get to the airport, let alone to New York?”

Mista pulled out his phone, pulled up Google, and typed something into the search bar. Within seconds, he had pulled up a road map that was lit up with a variety of red, green, and yellow dots all over it, with the dots moving and changing color in live time. 

“The road map says that all the roads to the airport are clear.” Mista explained as he held it up so Giorno could see. Sure enough, as Giorno’s eyes traced the route he’d need to take to the airport, it was lit up in green all the way through.

Giorno sighed. 

“But then…” He trailed off, glancing from the screen, and then to Mista, and then turned his gaze away, as if he were ashamed to even meet his gaze. “What about you?” He finally said, softly, his voice barely a whisper at this point as he did. 

“What about me, Gio?” Mista’s voice was soft as he said this, although Giorno thought he could detect a slight undertone of knowing, as if he was aware of where this conversation could be heading.

“Depending on how this goes or what happens when I negotiate with these collaborators, I might not be able to come back to Snow Falls for a long time. Maybe I never will again.” Giorno admitted. “Are you sure you’ll be okay with that?” He finally asked, on some level scared to hear the answer as he did.

Giorno heard Mista sigh, and then he felt a warm, rough, calloused hand gently cup his cheek and tilt his face up to look at him. 

“Giorno.” Mista said gently, and his eyes were so full of pure understanding and love, that it only served to make Giorno’s heart twinge with equal parts affection and guilt now that he couldn’t look away. “Giorno, you need to go. I can’t, and I shouldn’t get in the way of your dream. Not now. Not when you’re so close to making it come true.” He shook his head, and gave Giorno a tiny smile. “I’ll always be here, so don’t…” He paused briefly, hesitantly before just as quickly as he began to trail off, he shook his head, swallowed, and continued talking. “Don’t worry about me.” He finally said, but Giorno knew Mista well enough to know that he must have been hurting inside as he said this, and the sad way that Mista briefly glanced aside before he had given Giorno that smile said it all. “ I’ll be okay. ” 

Giorno sighed, knowing that there was no way he could change Mista’s mind. And then he nodded. 

“Okay.” Giorno finally said as he slowly and reluctantly got up from the couch before turning to face Mista. “I guess I’ll get going, then.” 

“Let me at least drive you back to the hotel so you can pick up your things.” Mista said, getting up as he then walked to the coat rack and grabbed his coat, and then his car keys as Giorno put on his own coat.

The snow crunched under their feet as they made their way out to Mista’s truck, and wordlessly, they got into the vehicle, and drove back to the old Snow Falls Inn in silence.

~☆♤☆♡◇~

Checking out of the inn was a relatively quick and wordless affair, with Giorno quickly stepping back into his room to grab his laptop case and his small suitcase that he had brought along with him. He really hadn’t packed a whole lot anyway, since he had initially thought he was going to be in Snow Falls for a very short amount of time, after all. 

And through it all, Mista helped him, helped him fold his clothes, helped him pack, and helped carry Giorno’s things down as Giorno talked to the people at the front desk to check out.

Then, once he had finally checked himself out, Giorno silently stepped out the front door of the inn, pulling his suitcase behind him as he did. Then, Giorno paused, took a deep breath, and turned back to face Mista. 

“For what it’s worth,” Giorno began as he tried his best to meet Mista’s eyes. “I’m really happy that I could come back and reconnect with you.” He said. “I wouldn’t trade the time we spent for anything.” 

“Me too, Gio.” Mista said softly, nodding his head as he did. That sad look in his eyes had returned, and it made Giorno’s heart tear apart just a little more. 

“You’re doing something incredibly amazing with your life here too, Guido.” Giorno said, hoping he sounded reassuring enough. “I really hope you continue to keep at it.” 

“The same goes for you.” Mista replied, and oh, that only just made this moment even more bittersweet for Giorno. “I can’t wait to hear about all the things you achieve out there in New York.”

There was an awkward pause, as neither felt that they wanted to say the inevitable, yet they didn’t have any more conversation left to stall it. 

Then, finally, Mista took a deep breath, and then forced a smile back on his face. 

“Well I guess this is goodbye, Giorno.” Mista said, his voice undeniably heavy as he did, despite the smile he was forcing on his face. 

“Goodbye, Guido.” Giorno said, and he too, was feeling that heaviness in his heart as he did so. He then reluctantly turned around, and then made his way back to his car. 

“Hey!” 

Giorno looked up and back at Mista, not fully turning around, but just enough so he could see him. 

“Don’t be a stranger this time, alright?” Mista said.

Giorno couldn’t help but chuckle a little at this little reprieve from his heavy mood, but then he nodded. 

“I won’t.” He promised. 

And with that, he turned and headed back to his car, unlocking and opening the door, which was already almost frozen shut. He climbed in, and started up the engine, letting it warm up for a minute before he then started to drive away. He glanced back to the front door, and saw Mista was still watching him, and he was still continuing to watch him when Giorno fully pulled out of the driveway of the inn.

As Giorno drove away from the inn, he couldn’t help but notice the time. “4:44.” The clock on the dashboard read, and Giorno sighed, knowing that a moment like this would only further serve to make Mista hate the number even more than he already had ever since they were kids. 

Giorno hoped so much that Mista could forgive him for this, because Giorno wasn’t sure if he could forgive himself.

~☆♤☆♡◇~

As Giorno drove along the long, lonely roads leading out through the mountains and to the airport, he couldn't help but mull, no, stew in his thoughts. 

He really hadn't expected to fall back in love with this town, let alone fall back in love with Mista. That much was true. 

But the fact was, he had. And if Giorno had known, if he had just known that it would end up like this, with Mista getting his heart broken and with Giorno all confused about what he actually wanted out of his life, he would have never, NEVER gone back to Snow Falls, his mother’s estate and run-down house be damned. 

And honestly, damn her for being the cause of all of this now. For making him want to leave this town and never wanting to come back, which led to him breaking the heart of the only person who had ever loved him at that point in his life. Damn her for dying and leaving that house in his name and forcing him to come out of New York, bumping into said first love again, and then getting all his feelings confused. Damn her all to a fiery prison in the deepest depths of Hell for all of eternity.

The funniest thing about this whole experience, Giorno mused, was that he really thought nothing would have ever happened if he were to just come back and visit his hometown for even so little as a couple of days. After all, nothing really had happened all that much back when he had lived in this town.

And then Mista, dear sweet, loving, kind, handsome, and absolutely stupid Mista, had to come and change things, the same way he had changed Giorno’s life all those years ago when he was just a little boy with a dream to change the world, or at least, change the fashion industry.

Giorno remembered the way Mista’s hand, so big and rough and calloused, had gently cupped his cheek in his hand and caressed him while they stood in the chilling darkness of Giorno’s childhood bedroom, bringing some warmth to his icy-cold cheeks and straight to his heart. Giorno hadn’t fully realized until that point that it had barely been beating, alive, yes, but dormant like it had been sleeping for a hundred years like that princess in that fairytale, and Mista’s warm, loving touch was like the kiss that had finally broken the curse and awoken him, awoken his heart and made it start finally beating again.

Come to think of it, Giorno never felt that way with any of the men he had seen while he was living in New York. He had tried so hard to believe that what he and Mista had had was just nothing more than just puppy love, the first, warm, enthusiastic taste of love that a person feels before the cold, harsh currents of reality tears them apart, or sends them drifting down different paths, never to see each other again as they reached the gentler, calmer, and more still waters of the lakes of adulthood. And for a while, Giorno thought that that was what this all was as he then tried to meet new people, date other men to forget about Mista. But now, as Giorno continued to drive further and further away from Snow Falls, he realized that maybe Mista had been the real deal all along. All those men back in New York, as rich, successful, handsome and ambitious as they all had been, they barely ever seemed to put in much time and effort for Giorno. They barely ever seemed to even bother to make much space in their lives for him, unlike what Mista had done. 

Giorno then remembered all the laughter and smiles that they had shared in the kitchen of Mista’s bakery while almost the entire population of their small town had gathered inside. Giorno remembered how he had actually gotten messy, and gotten egg and sugar and flour all over his expensive clothes while he and Mista joked, laughed, and flirted so sweetly with each other. Giorno realized he never let loose and just have fun like this with anyone while he was in New York. Sure, he did have fun going to cafes, gossiping, shopping, visiting art museums and going to Broadway shows with Fugo and Trish. And for sure, those were things that Giorno appreciated about the big city, and appreciated that he could do with his friends. Fugo and Trish may be some of the closest friends that he has in New York, and he appreciated them so much, he wouldn’t trade them for anything, especially with how often they had had his back and looked out for him. But at the same time, none of them would have ever been caught dead in a bakery’s kitchen, covered in flour, surrounded by kitschy Christmas decorations (although at this point, Giorno thought that they were charming in their own way), and wearing equally-kitschy festive Christmas sweaters. And Giorno realized that, the expensive price tag of his ruined clothes aside, he had really enjoyed baking with Mista. 

In fact, as he thought back on his childhood, he had even enjoyed the fact that they would go hiking and tree climbing or wading through ponds to catch frogs when they were kids. He had also especially enjoyed sneaking into movie theatres, and going on long drives in Mista’s truck with him, and yes, even doing some of those “other things” in that truck with him. There was no way Giorno would have ever been able to get away with doing any of that back in New York. 

Giorno thought about how Mista was there through it all, the good times, the bad times, and the really, REALLY bad times. How every time, he had been there for him with a warm smile, and an equally-warm shoulder to cry on. And through all of it, Mista had always encouraged Giorno to chase his dreams, even at the expense of Mista’s own. And all because he loved Giorno so damn much.

And then Giorno had to just go and leave him. Not once, but twice. 

A wave of guilt crashed down over Giorno like a giant tsunami on a small island in the middle of the ocean as it suddenly hit him just how much he had been making Mista sacrifice what he wanted over, and over, and over again without ever giving back or offering much in the way of reciprocity. 

All Giorno had ever done was just take, and take, and take it all from one man who had always been there for him, who had truly loved him, who had truly seen him for who he was, and who he is. And chew him up and spit him back out over and over and over again.

How could that even be remotely fair to Mista? Giorno wondered to himself. 

Perhaps now, it was high time that Giorno made some sacrifices of his own for Mista’s sake.

Really, at this point in Giorno’s life, what was there in New York that he actually truly needed that he couldn’t get in Snow Falls? What was there truly stopping him from staying in Snow Falls? After all, his mother was gone with no possibility of her ever returning, so she couldn’t ever hurt him again. And Giorno had more or less achieved his dream of becoming a successful fashion designer and doing something to revolutionize the fashion industry. He was THE “It Boy” of the fashion world at the moment. If people truly wanted to work with him, they’d go the extra mile to make anything they offered be worth his time, energy and money. And if he wanted to go shopping for designer clothing, or see a Broadway show, or visit his friends in New York, he could just fly out there every couple of months or so.

As Giorno made this revelation, he instantly pulled his car over to the side of the road, and then put his car into “park.” Taking a deep breath, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone before turning it on. The time on his phone read “8:35 PM.” So, Giorno had been on the road for almost three hours so far. Giorno checked his cell service, and to his surprise, his phone showed that it had full bars even out there. Maybe he was close to a cell tower? Who knows. What Giorno did know, however, was that he could finally make this very important phone call. 

Giorno pulled up Trish’s number from his “contacts” app, and then hit the little “call” icon and held the phone to his ear. 

Trish picked up after the first ring of the dial tone. 

“Giorno, please for the love of God tell me that you’re about to board your flight out to New York right now.” Trish huffed. Giorno could almost imagine her crossing her arms and wrinkling her nose in unamusement at her current situation. 

“I’m sorry, Trish.” Giorno said, shaking his head as he did. “But I’m not coming back.” 

There was a pause for a moment, as no doubt, it was taking some time for Giorno’s words to sink in. And then. 

“WHAT?!?!” Trish shrieked. “What do you mean you’re not coming back?” 

“I mean, I’m staying here in Snow Falls.” Giorno said. “And I won’t come back until after Christmas. And even then, I probably won’t be sticking around very long.” 

“What the Hell, Giorno!” Trish exclaimed. “Why are you doing this all of a sudden, especially right when your career is about to take off? Are you insane?”

“I guess I just changed my mind.” Giorno admitted. “I guess coming back to my hometown made me sort out my priorities about what I actually wanted in life.”

“This can’t seriously be related to that guy you were telling Fugo and I about, can it?” Trish replied in disbelief.

“And what if it is?” Giorno retorted. 

“Giorno, no man is worth throwing away your career for.” Trish protested firmly. 

“This one is.” Giorno replied resolutely. “I’m sorry, Trish. You can tell them I’ll talk to them after Christmas, but my answer is final.” 

“Giorno, wait–” 

Giorno hung up before Trish could say any more. He had heard enough.

As Giorno sat back, he glanced back up at the starry sky, and noticed the way his breath came out in cloudlike puffs of air.

So, he finally did it. He finally made the call. And if Giorno was being completely honest, he felt absolutely relieved to do so. He thought there would be at least some remorse, or guilt or hesitation, but in hindsight, there was none. This only further made Giorno feel secure in the knowledge that he had made the right choice. 

Which now meant there was only one thing left for Giorno to do. 

Giorno turned the key in his car’s ignition, turning it back on with a hum of the engine, and then, Giorno started driving, turning the car around as he then drove back to Snow Falls as fast as he safely and possibly could. 

There was a man, a beautiful, wonderful man that he needed to apologize to before it was too late. 

~☆♤☆♡◇~

It was 11:30 pm by the time Giorno finally made it back to Snow Falls. Giorno was surprised that with how fast he was driving, his car didn’t slip off the road and into a ditch, or worse, off of a cliff. He was also surprised nobody pulled him over and ticketed him as he practically sped through the streets of town and back to Mista’s place. 

As Giorno hastily pulled into Mista’s driveway, he noticed how much his heart was pounding in his chest. To say that he was scared of how Mista could potentially react to seeing him still there, mere hours after he had left and told him he might not come back. Giorno wasn’t sure he was ready to see Mista be heartbroken again. It was already bad enough to see Mista tear up and recall how heartbroken he had used to be over him for years. It would be another to see Mista with his heart freshly-broken all over again and to be saddled with the guilt that Giorno once again, was the cause of it, all because he had been selfish enough to take yet another way out that Mista had offered him out of the kindness of his heart.

Sure, Mista probably would forgive him for this, because this was Mista that he was talking about. But Giorno wasn’t sure if he even deserved to have that forgiveness.

But even so, if Giorno never even so much as tried to make amends and apologize, he might, no, he will regret it for the rest of his life. Especially when Mista deserved at least that much.

And so, Giorno gulped, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then rang the doorbell. He stood back, and drew his coat closer around himself as he did, shielding himself not just from the cold, but also from whatever he was about to see, hear, or experience. 

There was silence for a moment. And then, Giorno heard the sound of barking dogs, and six sets of paws scrambling upon a hardwood surface and jingling collars. He then heard the sound of the door unlocking. And then…

“ G-Giorno? ”

Giorno felt his heart almost tear in two at the sight of Mista, standing there at the doorway with a tear-streaked face and his eyes red and puffy from crying. He looked like he had been crying non-stop for hours. No, Not crying. Sobbing. 

Giorno felt that guilt return as he realized he was the reason why Mista had been crying his eyeballs out. 

“Is that you?” Mista asked, his voice so quiet and soft, like as if he was scared that if he raised his voice, he would make Giorno disappear in the literal blink of an eye, and never to be seen again. “W-What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be getting on a plane to New York?” 

“I couldn’t do it.” Giorno said, shaking his head and giving Mista a tiny smile. “I couldn’t bear to leave you. Not again.” 

Mista’s eyes widened in disbelief as he heard this.

“But Giorno, what about your dream? What about your future?” Mista’s eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you threw it all away for me.”

“Don’t you see?” Giorno asked, stepping closer and holding his hands out to Mista, who gently took and squeezed them, enveloping Giorno’s much smaller hands in the warmth of his own. “That dream means nothing to me if you’re not in it.” 

“So wait, what does this mean?” Mista asked, still in disbelief as he gripped Giorno’s hands tighter, as if he were scared to let him go and risk losing Giorno a third time. 

“It means that I’m staying here in Snow Falls so I can be with you.” Giorno said resolutely, glancing up from his hands and back up to Mista with a smile on his face.

Mista blinked as he tried his best to process this information. And then, the biggest, happiest smile Giorno had ever seen crossed Mista’s face. 

“Oh, Giorno!” Mista exclaimed as he rushed forward and tightly embraced Giorno. 

Giorno felt himself be lifted off the ground by a couple of inches and then be gently spun around, which made him laugh happily before Mista then softly set him back down on the ground. 

Mista gently pressed their faces together as he gently tangled his hands through Giorno’s long, soft, silky locks and then eagerly kissed Giorno. Giorno kissed Mista back just as eagerly and breathlessly until they finally pulled their faces away just slightly enough for air.

“I’m so happy.” Mista whispered. “I can’t believe it.” 

“Can’t believe what, Guido?” Giorno asked, smiling softly as he gazed into Mista’s gorgeous brown eyes. 

“I can’t believe that you actually chose me .” Mista said. “This doesn’t feel real at all.” He added. “Is this really happening?” 

Giorno nodded. 

“It is.” He whispered. “I’m staying here with you for however long you want to have me.” 

“I want you here with me forever.” Mista replied. “Please say you’ll stay with me forever.” His voice had a hint of pleading to it, and right then and there, Giorno knew there was no way he’d ever say no to anything this man would ever ask of him. It was his turn now to give him everything he could ever want in his life. 

“I promise.” Giorno said. “I promise I’ll always stay here with you.” 

Tears began to well up in Mista’s eyes as Giorno said this, and Giorno instantly and gently brought his hand up to cup Mista’s cheek in his palm, the same way that Mista had always done. As the tears began to roll down Mista’s cheek, Giorno tenderly wiped them away. 

“I love you so much, Giorno.” Mista whispered. 

“I love you too, Guido.” Giorno whispered back. “And I know I always will.” 

Before they could do or say anything more, the sound of barking was heard as finally, the Sex Pistols ran towards where Giorno and Mista were standing by the door and frantically began practically jumping and pawing at Giorno and Mista’s legs in an attempt at catching their attention. 

Giorno and Mista broke apart, their moment interrupted as they glanced down at the puppies at their feet, before they looked at each other, and then started laughing, absolutely giddy with happiness and relief at this moment. 

When they finally calmed down, Giorno and Mista looked back at each other with smiles on their faces. 

“What should we do now?” Mista asked. 

“Well…” Giorno began. He glanced at the digital clock that was hung up on the wall behind Mista. The display screen had “0:05 AM, Dec. 25” Written on it. 

“I think spending Christmas with the one I love sounds like a perfect plan. Don’t you think?” 

A grin spread across Mista’s face as he nodded. 

“I couldn’t agree more.” He said as he then gently took Giorno’s hand and led him inside the warmth of his home.

~☆♤☆♡◇~

True to their plan, Giorno and Mista enjoyed their Christmas together, content to spend it by the fireplace unwrapping presents while cheesy Hallmark movies played in the background, and enjoying each other’s company (and that of the Pistols, who, as Giorno found out, Mista had hung up six stockings filled with dog treats by the fireplace just for them). When Giorno had admitted that he hadn’t had the time or opportunity to get Mista a gift, Mista had (in true Mista fashion) taken a big ribbon bow off of a box that he had unwrapped and placed it on Giorno’s head before hugging him close, kissing his forehead, and telling him that he was the best Christmas gift he could ever ask for. Giorno had rolled his eyes at this, but he then smiled and gently kissed Mista in return. For all the times he teased Mista for being corny, deep down, he loved that about him too. And Giorno wouldn’t have had it any other way. 

After gifts had been unwrapped, a phone call was made to the rest of Mista’s family, who were all very much pleasantly surprised that they had gotten back together, although Mista’s spitfire of a mother absolutely gave Giorno the “shovel talk” for in case he ever broke her dear son’s heart again. Once that was done, Giorno and Mista decided to bundle up in scarves, tacky Christmas sweaters, and coats before loading themselves and the Pistols into Mista’s truck before they headed into town to walk, gloved hand-in-gloved-hand down Main Street with the puppies and taken in all the Christmas lights and atmosphere, and even joined in with a couple of carolers in the streets for a couple of songs before they left, cheeks rosy both from the cold and the joy they felt to be with each other. 

The entire time, Giorno couldn’t help but notice how it must have been years since the last time he had enjoyed a Christmas this wonderful. And when they passed under a sprig of mistletoe, of course they couldn’t help but steal a kiss, and it was every bit as magical as all those mistletoe kisses like in all the Hallmark movies he had watched with Mista. 

The next day, Giorno flew himself and Mista out to New York City to finally meet with the designers, who all were more than enthusiastic to adhere to Giorno’s list of demands, of which, Giorno made sure to emphasize the fact that he was to be working remotely from now on, with the occasional visit to New York every couple of months. As it turned out, none of these designers had any problems with that stipulation in their working agreement. They would literally do anything to be able to collaborate with Giorno and get a chance to incorporate Mycelitex into their own fashion lines. 

After that, it was time to introduce Mista to Trish and Fugo. Fugo and Mista had gotten along alright almost immediately, which was a relief for Giorno, seeing as it could have gone either way, what with Fugo’s quick temper and fastidious, particular tendencies and beliefs. It took Trish a couple of days and a couple more coffee meetings while Giorno worked out some more work agreements with her and a couple more opportunities for her to chat with Mista before she finally warmed up to him. And once she did, she absolutely gave Mista a “Shovel talk” of her own, and more than threatened to fly out to his “backwater middle-of-nowhere excuse for a town” and give him a piece of her mind if he ever broke Giorno’s heart. Mista of course, would never dream of doing such a thing, and he reassured her frequently as such before she finally calmed down. 

Then, there was some packing to do with what little Giorno owned in his small studio apartment before they ended up making arrangements with some movers to bring his things into Snow Falls in a few weeks. 

And then, with a few days left to spare, Giorno and Mista had finally decided to spend their last couple of days and nights on the town and “playing tourist.” Aside from his first couple of weeks after moving to New York, Giorno realized he had never exactly gotten to do a lot of the things that tourists in New York did. And it was nice for a change to go get one of those famous NYC hot dogs with Mista, or walk across the Brooklyn Bridge, or walk through Times Square, or go visit the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty and take photos with all the landmarks. Mista had spent the entire time being completely in awe at all the lights, the sounds, and the sights of the city, which was absolutely bigger than anything he had ever experienced in all his time in Snow Falls. They even managed to catch a show on Broadway, which Mista enjoyed immensely, and as they had walked hand-in-hand out of the theatre, Giorno couldn’t help but feel amused at the fact that he had caught Mista humming some of the songs even hours later as they walked hand-in-hand down the street to find a place to go grab something to eat. They even ended up sharing an absolutely magical kiss at the stroke of midnight when they visited Times Square again for their New Year’s Eve celebration.

And of course, once it was January 2nd, when it was time for their little vacation to end, Giorno and Mista finally hailed a cab, loaded it up with their suitcases (which were just a little bit heavier with souvenirs and mementos) and got in. 

As the cab made their way back to JFK airport, a brilliant idea crossed Giorno’s mind. Taking his cell phone out of his pocket, Giorno quickly dialed Mr. Graves’s number and held the phone to his ear. 

The dial tone rang once, then twice, and then….

“Hello, you have reached the office of Emory Graves. How may I help you?” Mr. Graves’s voice said on the other end of the line. 

“Mr. Graves, this is Giorno Giovanna.” Giorno said, feeling the need to reintroduce himself, just in case Mr. Graves had forgotten him already. 

“Ah, Mr. Giovanna.” Mr. Graves replied, a tone of recognition seeping back into his voice. “Is everything alright?” 

“I was just wondering,” Giorno began as he reached next to him and offered his hand out to Mista, who gently took it and squeezed it. “Would it be too late for me to get the house back?” He asked. 

“Well, that depends.” Mr. Graves replied, his voice contemplative and deep in thought. “Why do you ask?” 

“I decided I wanted to stay in Snow Falls after all.” Giorno explained, leaning into the warmth of Mista’s side as Mista slung his arm around Giorno’s shoulders and pulled him close. Giorno briefly smiled up at Mista as Mista gently kissed his forehead. “And I decided I wanted to remodel it so I can turn that house into my home. Do you think I could make that happen?"

“Hmmmm.” Mr. Graves said in acknowledgement, and Giorno liked to think he could hear a fond smile in the older man's voice. "As a matter of fact, I do."

After a few short minutes of discussing his affairs, Giorno hung up, turning to Mista with a wide, sparkling grin that lit up the whole car. Mista was watching him just as lovingly, smiling with his whole face like he couldn't believe that all of this was really happening.

"Well, my darling." Giorno purred, leaning into Mista for a well-deserved kiss. "Are you ready to go home?"