Chapter Text
Giorno's been acting weird. He's been behaving unusually ever since his 16th birthday had passed. Obviously, Bucciarati had been the first to confront him and ask why he's been so jumpy and distant. However Giorno wasn't able to give a clear answer.
Either that, or he just didn't want to.
It's been a month since his birthday had passed. The gang is starting to get more annoyed than concerned with Giorno. What is he hiding? Could he be turning on Passione after all this time? Was he in danger and didn't want the others to know?
One particular afternoon, it's Mista's turn to check on their beloved friend and offer him to actually interact with everyone, when he finds the blonde in the corner of his room in the dark. The blinds are closed, the light is off, and he's engulfed in a thick blanket.
"You uh," Guido starts, "You okay there, man?" Giorno looks up suddenly as if he hadn't heard Mista open and close the door on his way in.
"You need to leave." The black clad boy mutters. Mista scoffs, and walks further into the room.
"I don't have to do shit, but what I'd like to do is figure out what your problem is." When he gets no response, he continues. "You need to talk to us again, dude. We're all worried. I'm worried. You need some sunlight." His eyes are drawn away from Giorno, looking at the blinds.
Giorno finally frees himself from the cotton prison he'd confined himself in, and stands up.
"I really can't Mista, I'm sorry. I can't explain either, I know you won't believe me." He walks over to his bed, which is stationed across from the window.
"What do ya mean I won't believe you? I know you're not a liar. You can tell me. What's wrong, dude?" Guido reaches over to the string that connects to the blinds and pulls it downward, bringing the blinds up.
"No!—" Giorno hisses in pain as the light hits his bare forearm, and runs back to the corner where his blanket is.
Flustered, Mista grabs the blinds and pulls them back down. He processes what he'd just seen, and continues not to understand.
"What the hell was that?!" He exclaimed. He runs over to Giorno and pulls the blanket away from him, seeing his scorched left forearm. "Shit are you okay? I'm sorry I didn't mean to…." He trails off, realizing just how pale Giorno looked. He made eye contact with the younger teen, giving a confused expression and silently asking for an explanation.
"I'm a vampire." Giorno practically whispers. Guido looks to the right and then back. Giorno sighs. "That's why I didn't want to tell you. You're looking at me like I'm insane." Mista opens his mouth to speak but is cut off by Giorno bringing his pointer finger to the corner of his mouth and pulling. This reveals his right canine, which has clearly grown at least 2 centimeters. Giorno has fangs. He lets go. "These weren't there last month. They'd started growing rapidly the night after my birthday party."
Mista gawks at his friend, not sure what to say. His thoughts tell him that there has to be a different explanation for this. Vampires aren't real. Those stories Polnareff told were just jokes! Really elaborate and lore-filled jokes.
But even then, Giorno believes he has nobody to turn to. No one to help him with his unusual bodily reactions. So while he's staying firm in his belief of vampires, he's going to help Giorno.
"I believe you." He lets out, his demeanor becoming calm, wildly contrasting with his reaction just a minute ago. Giorno's face fills with relief. He looks away.
"Thank you." Once again before Guido can speak, Giorno cuts him off. "You can't tell the others. I'm lucky you didn't try killing me just now. Who knows how the others would feel?" His words spill out of him like a waterfall of anxiety and desperation.
"Nobody's trying to kill you, Giorno… I really think they should know. They're all there for you. Just like I am." Mista traces his finger around the small burn mark on the other's arm but quickly retracts his hand, realizing that motion could be perceived as intimate. "I'll get you some ice. I'm sorry." He stands up and hurries out of the room.
Giorno sits there for a moment, and attempts to get up. He fails, falling backward into the wall.
He's weak. He hasn't eaten in days, and he's been having these unnatural, disgusting, sinful cravings for something he believes he no longer has enough of.
Blood.
His weakness. His dizziness and imbalance. It's from lack of blood flow. He needs more. And he has no idea how to get it. At least, not one that matches with his moral compass.
The door swings open and in comes Mista with an ice pack and a soft cloth. He shuts the door behind him with his foot and walks back into Giorno's corner.
"You alright? Why are you gripping the wall like that?" He sets down the ice pack on Giorno's nightstand and extends his hand over to the blonde who takes it without hesitation.
"I tried standing up. I'm very weak right now." He lets his taller friend guide him over to his bed and help him sit down. He grabs the ice pack, wraps the cloth around it and places it on his previously burned arm.
"Aw man, do you like, need blood? Is that like an actual thing?" Guido whispers to Giorno, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. Giorno cringed at the suggestion of consuming another person's blood.
"I don't want blood." Giorno looks away in disapproval. Mista disregards his statement and rolls up his sleeve. Giorno shakes his head rapidly. "Please don't offer—"
"You can just make something else into blood for me, right? Not a big deal if you can fix it." He presents his wrist to his shorter friend, with little to no acknowledgement of how bizarre this was.
"I'm not going to bite you, Mista. I don't want to hurt you if I don't have to." He pushes Mista's hand away and turns his head in the other direction. Mista gives him a confused look and rolls his sleeve back down.
"I'm not gonna push but," he pauses to sit down next to Giorno. "How else are you going to get it?" Giorno refuses to meet his eyes. Mista sighs and gets up and walks toward the door.
"Where are you going?" The blonde asks, his voice clearly laced with anxiety. He tries standing up to stop Mista, but falls back onto the bed leaving his attempt useless.
"To go tell the others why you've been in here. We need to get you blood, right? We should all plan out an easy way for you to get it." Mista grips the door knob but stops as Giorno pleads once more.
"Please don't! Like I said, I'm lucky you believed me, but what if the others don't? Or worse, they do and they want to get rid of me?" Giorno grips his bed sheets tight, looking at the door handle that Guido is currently holding onto.
"Giorno…" Mista starts, "I really don't think that they'd want to get rid of you. Especially after all you've done for us…" He trails off, wondering how to handle this. "But. If you really don't want them to know, I won't tell them."
Giorno lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. Making eye contact, he smiles at his friend.
"Thank you." He releases the bed sheet from his death grip and leans back on the wall behind his bed.
"Ciao!" Guido says quickly, and leaves while shutting the door behind him. Giorno would've protested once more had Mista not left in such a hurry.