Chapter Text
Mista wouldn’t call himself popular, but he did get along with quite a lot of people at school. Now thirteen years old and clumsy in every subject except music and gym, Mista found himself at the center of attention a little too often for his liking. Some people asked him to join sports teams, others wanted him to join the school band, and Mista really just wanted to go home and play video games with Fugo and Narancia.
Drawing on desks with blunt pencils, snickering with each other at the back of the class whenever they passed notes, standing together in the hallway whenever they got in trouble; that was the life that Mista loved. And frankly the life that he wouldn't trade for the world.
Since the school was fairly small, whenever anything happened, nearly every student knew about it by the end of the day. So whenever Mista was chewed out by a teacher for distracting the class, people heard about him. Or whenever he made a great play in baseball games, people heard about him. And the more people heard about him, the more they were interested in the daily Mista news. Hence, the reason why he wouldn't exactly consider himself popular. Mista was simply the hot news of every day.
That was until spring came around, whispers fluttered from student to student throughout the day. Like a game of telephone, the news had spread to the students in all sorts of variations. Mista was trying to finish his math homework with Fugo's help when the news had reached him.
"Hey Mista, Fugo, did you hear the news?" Narancia chirped up as he leaned over their desks.
"What? I'm trying to finish this worksheet before the next class." Mista grumbled, scratching his head as he struggled with one of the problems. He wanted to smash his head against the desk but he knew that Fugo would probably cuss him out for it.
"There's a transfer student in the grade below us! We haven't had a transfer student in so long. The last time we had someone transfer here it was the history teacher, Mr. Abbacchio, and that wasn't very exciting."
"Transfer? From where?"
Narancia shrugged, "I'm not sure, some people are saying they're from the big city. I guess we'll find out tomorrow when they arrive."
"Hm," Mista hummed to himself, "I guess it will be an interesting year."
The following day, Mista, Narancia, and Fugo had yet to meet the transfer student being in a grade higher. But they heard comments here and there all morning. Even when their teacher, Mr. Buccellati, tried to keep them focused, he couldn't stop the excited students from talking amongst themselves. Everyone was anticipating their next break so they could meet the new kid.
Mista heard things here and there, but the general consensus was that the transfer student was beautiful. Beautiful and mischievous to be exact.
He was curious but he didn't want to rush over to the next classroom just to take a peek at someone, so instead, Mista excused himself to the washroom and decided to take as many detours as possible, in hopes to catch a glimpse of the student.
Instead of catching just a glimpse of the transfer student, Mista ended up walking straight into him as he turned a corner in the hallways. He stumbled back slightly, pulling himself out of his thoughts as he immediately went to help the other student.
Mista caught his hand, tugging him closer as he apologized, "I'm so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going. Are you alright?"
Beautiful is an understatement.
That was Mista's first thought as he met the other's eyes. Cold as the arctic ocean, warm as a summer's day, and a gaze that pierced Mista's chest and filled him with desire. That was what it was like to look into his eyes.
"I'm alright, thanks." The boy muttered, walking past Mista with ease without so much as a single glance at him.
Mista watched as he returned to his classroom, his short black hair shimmering behind him as the sunlight washed through the windows of the halls. And peeking out from the black hair, Mista noticed a small lock of gold. Like a golden band sticking out from underneath the mass of darkness, it was barely noticeable unless seen in the light.
He stood in the halls until the transfer student was out of sight, unsure of what to do with the bubbling emotion in his chest. For once, Mista wanted something. He wanted to break away from his usual life at this school and he simply wanted to meet that boy again.
And yet, Mista didn't even know his name.
Fugo was the first to notice that Mista was acting a little strange. He lingered around the hallways during lunch time to check on club activities, he arrived at school earlier and left the classroom the second the bell rang, and he was pretty secretive about it too.
“So, Mista…” Fugo casually started as he helped him with yet another math worksheet, “what’s up with you lately?”
“Hm?” Mista glanced at him before trying to focus on the worksheet in front of him. When he heard a group of students laughing outside the classroom, he quickly turned to watch who was walking by, “Nothing really.”
“Really.”
“Yeah, why?”
Fugo watched as Mista checked the time on his cellphone for what was probably the twentieth time since they started studying, “Well, you seem a little distracted.”
“Distracted? Pft, no way, I’m the same as usual.” Mista laughed, a little nervously as if he had been caught red-handed.
“Do you, perhaps, maybe, have a crush on someone?” Fugo deadpanned, giving him a knowing look.
Mista sputtered, his ears turning a slight pink, “Crush? What, no? It’s not a crush.”
“Mm, so not a crush, but there is someone.”
“I didn’t say that. He’s just–”
“He?” Fugo raised his eyebrow, smirking slightly as he watched Mista fall apart in embarrassment.
Mista sighed, scratching his pencil against his homework to doodle on the corners of the page, “I’m just a little curious about the transfer student, that’s all.”
“Oh him, I think I saw him hanging out with Trish lately. I haven’t heard anything big about him though so he must be pretty normal.”
“Do you know his name?”
Fugo shrugged before shaking his head, “Sorry, can’t help you there. I don’t care that much about students in the grade below us. Why not join some clubs? Since he’s a new student, he’ll probably join the less popular clubs that still have space at this time of the year.”
Mista beamed, patting Fugo’s back, “Hey genius! That’s a great idea!”
And so Mista found himself at the teachers’ staff room during lunch the following day. He shyly peeked his head in and knocked lightly on the open door. Buccellati and Abbacchio sat together, talking over lunch, they waved at Mista to come in when they noticed him.
“Guido, what can I do for you?” Buccellati asked, setting aside his lunch to focus on his student.
“Um, I was wondering if you have a list of the school’s clubs. I was looking to join a club this year.”
Abbacchio smiled, “Why not join a sports club? We could really use your leadership skills on our teams.”
Mista shook his head, “I don’t think he…I mean, I want to try something a little new.”
Buccellati pursed his lips, rolling his chair over to a desk cabinet to bring out the list of clubs, “Usually competitive clubs fill up their empty spaces in the fall, so if you want to join one of those you’d have to wait until September.”
“Nothing competitive! Just a casual, perhaps a more vacant, perfect-choice-for-new-students type of club.”
Abbacchio smirked slightly, trying not to laugh at the obvious motives of the young student, “Perhaps you should join Mr. Buccellati’s cooking club. It has many open spaces throughout the year and you don’t need experience to join. And perhaps you will meet some new people there.”
Mista nodded frantically, “That sounds right up my alley.”
Buccellati glanced at Abbacchio with a slight smile, “Alright, I can sign you up for the cooking club. We meet on Fridays at lunch in the kitchen. Usually we make a quick meal or treat together and then you can take some home.”
“Amazing! I’ll see you then, I mean, I see you every day since you’re my homeroom teacher. But I’ll see you then, Mr. Buccellati! Thanks!”
The two teachers watched as Mista practically skipped away, Buccellati laughed lightly, “Kids.”
Abbacchio nodded, “Yeah. They’re terrifying sometimes, aren’t they? I’ve never seen him more motivated.”
Mista was beyond excited to see the transfer student, whom he had nicknamed an emerald dahlia. Of course there was still the possibility that Mista had picked a completely irrelevant club and the transfer student wouldn’t be there, but he had a good feeling about it and he felt that luck was on his side.
He was practically squirming in his seat during the class before lunch on Friday, desperately looking at the clock hanging on the wall, his leg restlessly shaking as he counted down the seconds. He had never been this eager to meet someone and it was all because of those damn eyes.
When the bell rang, Mista collected his things and waved at Narancia and Fugo, “Bye guys!”
“Wait,” Narancia exclaimed, “where are you going? We were supposed to play soccer!”
“Sorry! I have a club meeting today.”
Narancia sighed before turning to Fugo, “Since when did he join a club.”
Fugo smiled as he grabbed his things, “Let’s go play soccer.”
Mista speed-walked through the hallways, too scared to get called out by any of the teachers, and took a deep breath when he got to the kitchen. When he stepped inside, he saw many unfamiliar faces but none were his emerald dahlia.
Buccellati greeted him with a smile, handing him an apron, “Just wait by the counters until all the other club members show up and then we’ll get started.”
Mista hunched over on the counter, staring at the door as he watched students filter in one by one. He crossed his fingers, and then he saw him. It was like he had been sitting in a dusty, empty room when a door opened to an open field full of green dahlias. The flowers bustling in the wind, the breeze filling Mista with warmth, he felt his heart skip a beat.
The boy looked at him, giving him a polite smile before he stood by the counters. They all listened attentively as Buccellati described what they would be making and handed out the recipe. Mista nervously looked down at the recipe handout, trying hard not to stare at the transfer student who was standing not too far from him.
Chocolate muffins…seem simple enough. Mista thought to himself, his ears perked up when he heard the last bit of Buccellati’s instructions.
“Please pair up into partners for this activity. It doesn’t matter who you work with!”
He panicked a little, stunned as he looked left and right as students immediately paired up with their friends. He flinched when he felt someone tap on his shoulder, turning quickly to the view of emeralds. Mista swallowed thickly, unsure of what to say.
“Hi…we bumped into each other a week ago-ish, um, sorry, I don’t really know anyone,” The boy stumbled over his words, he seemed confident but a little flustered, “do you want to pair up?”
Mista took in his existence before nodding slowly, “Y-yes? Um, yes. I would like that. It’s my first time here too. Do you like chocolate?”
Stupid question, oh my god, shut up. Mista hurriedly moved to their station, bringing out the necessary ingredients.
The boy laughed lightly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, “Most people ask for each other’s names first.”
“Oh! I’m Guido Mista, you can call me Mista though. Most people do, it has a nice ring to it compared to my first name.” He wanted to smash his face into the closest wall in embarrassment.
“Well, Mista, I do like chocolate. And my name’s Haruno Shiobana, but I’d prefer it if you call me Giorno.”
Haruno…Giorno, that’s so–
“Beautiful.”
“What?”
“I mean beautiful, like, great! Let’s begin!” Mista wanted to hide in one of the cabinets.
Giorno watched with a gentle smile, laughing to himself, his cheeks growing warm. He hadn’t really gotten the chance to befriend a lot of people since he transferred, he was so busy settling down into the new environment that he felt simply out of place.
“So what class are you in?” Giorno asked curiously as he measured out the necessary ingredients.
“I'm a year above you in Mr. Buccellati’s class! How are you liking the school so far?”
“It’s not bad, I think I’m still getting used to it.”
“Oh,” Mista stirred the ingredients together, “well, if you want, I can always show you around the school some time.”
Giorno gave him a small smile, nodding, “I would like that.”
They got closer as they continued to complete the recipe, Giorno laughing as Mista stirred a little too hard, getting flour on his face. And Mista felt like he was face-to-face with an angel. Soon enough, he was deliberately trying to make Giorno laugh as they put the muffins into the oven.
Giorno started washing the dishes that they used as Mista wiped the counters. As he washed the dishes, he felt Mista’s fingertips brush against his hair, ruffling it slightly,
“This golden strand really isn’t noticeable when you’re not standing in the sun.”
Giorno’s hand immediately went to cover his hair, “You can see it? I thought I covered it well this morning.”
Mista pulled away, realizing that Giorno felt a little uncomfortable and embarrassed, “Sorry, I noticed it the day that we bumped into each other and I just thought it was very pretty.”
When Giorno fell silent, staring wide-eyed at Mista, he started to panic a little as he tried to think of something else to say, “You know, it’s kind of cool, I always thought of dying my hair or doing something crazy with it but my parents would kill me…”
“It’s natural, my hair…” Giorno muttered, “I don’t know why it’s like this.”
“Oh! That’s even more cool, maybe an angel came down and kissed your hair!”
Giorno’s ears turned pink, unsure of what to say to that. He had never met someone as forward as Mista but he could tell that he would really like him. The oven timer alarm went off between them, startling both of them as Mista put on a pair of oven gloves and pulled out the tray of muffins.
“They look so good, Giorno! We did a great job.” Mista exclaimed as he blew on the muffins in an attempt to cool them down faster.
“Yeah,” Giorno muttered, standing beside him to take a look at the sweet treats they had made, “thank you, Mista.”
“For what?”
“For being a good friend.”
Mista laughed, “Of course, what are friends for.”
As they packed up their muffins and walked down the hallways, they laughed together as Mista told Giorno funny stories of Narancia and Fugo.
“I’ve never seen someone able to bend like that. And Narancia just ties himself up like a pretzel and waits for Fugo to scare him.” Mista chuckled, “I’ve also never heard Fugo scream like that either. You should come meet them!”
Mista grabbed Giorno’s hand, rushing through the hallway before the lunch break ended. Giorno smiled as he followed along, feeling warm and welcome. And as he saw Mista’s back with the sunlight shining through the windows, Giorno felt like perhaps this new place could be home.
Narancia was overjoyed to meet someone new, instantly getting up from his chair to talk with Giorno and show off how he can bend his arms in ways that made Mista and Fugo cringe. Giorno simply laughed, giving Narancia a devious grin as he whispered to his new group of friends,
“Want to see what I can do with my ear?”