Chapter Text
Fugo is drinking rose milk, alone, as he has been for the last fifty-seven years, now at eighty-four he likes to sit in an old rocking chair and have his drink with a couple of cookies, sometimes when it's windy and even after all this time, the scent of roses reminds him a little of Giorno. Giorno from so many yesterdays ago, with his sunshine hair and pastel pink suit, with those turquoise eyes. Fugo thinks about how much he liked Giorno, but that was so long ago and although in his heart he feels that he is still alive, the truth is that he can't really know, but he is confident that he is, if anyone can survive the mafia for so long, it is Giorno.
That day in Libbeccio was the last time he saw him, so beautiful, so magnificent and so sweet and enigmatic, Fugo sometimes thinks about what his life would have been like if he had stayed by his side, but he just let out a snort and dismissed the idea, put the rim of the cup to his lips and drank its hot contents. The sun was still shining through the window, it was just over an hour before twilight, Fugo curled up in his chair and closed his eyes, but all those years of experience, and although he had had a quiet life, had him always alert, so as soon as he heard a slight noise in the creaking of the stairs outside is that he took the gun he almost always carried with him, except on Sundays at mass, and made sure to remove the safety, he had his finger on the trigger.
The door opened calmly, Fugo let go of the gun as the reflection of the window showed him the man who had just entered his house.
- GioGio?! - He knew he could not do anything in his presence, not out of fear but because he would never, not that day in Libbeccio and not now in his old age, he could never think of hurting him.
-Hello, Pannacotta - The voice was so soft that Fugo felt like crying, he stood up and the gun fell to the ground shooting at a vase, the roses fell to the ground along with the glass and the water but Fugo didn't pay any attention to it, neither did Giorno.
- Oh GioGio... just look at you, not a single second has passed on your face,- Fugo said with so much affection in his voice that Giorno felt like he was melting inside like butter. No matter that his face was now weathered by wrinkles and old age, Fugo always had a gentle side, an extremely soft side. Giorno left his jacket on the coat rack and advanced to Pannacotta.
- Thank you... - His footsteps then lost the sound, Fugo smiled, of course the noise on the stairs was on purpose, Giorno almost seemed to float across the room until he reached the small chair in front of Pannacotta's chair. - It has been a long time.
- A long time yes, maybe too long. Do you want a drink?
-No, thank you very much... is that rose milk?
-It is...
-Mista once told me that you liked to drink it when you were sad.
-Well, there are always reasons to be sad... now I do it just for the fun of it.
-Good.
- And how is Mista? - He asked as if nothing had ever happened, as if they had always been friends even if they never saw each other again after that time at the stadium.
- I've given him a couple of days for now, God only knows how hard he's been working. He needs to take a break.
Fugo let out a long sigh.
- Does he hate me?
- No, he doesn't.
-Do you?
- I could never.
Fugo closed his eyes.
- You came to kill me GioGio? Is this your way of putting an end to our story?
Giorno said nothing for a moment and then looked out of the window, it overlooked the street and in front of it there was a gelato store. He remembered with nostalgia his youth. The sun was beating a little on his face.
- You know... I'm a vampire now, but I can still go out in the sun... Not too much, my skin stings after a while.
- Hmmm... yeah, I figured that was one option. The other is simpler, you're God's favorite and that's why he doesn't want to age you.
- I don't remotely think I am....
- You are, even if you are a vampire. I must confess GioGio, that sometimes I think of you.
Giorno turned his face towards Fugo.
- Really?
- Many times I thought that one day someone would kill me on your orders, but little by little I got used to the idea that it wouldn't be like that... But I always thought that the day I would see you again would be the day my life would end.
- If I wanted that, believe me Pannacotta that for a long time....
- I know, I know that you don't doubt. I know GioGio.
-Besides... If I wanted you dead, I would have just let you die that day.
- In Libbeccio? Yes, I probably would have died relatively soon if you hadn't healed my face...
-No, not in Libbeccio. After the funeral of... Darian.
-Oh
- I'm sorry for him -Giorno said, but it was a lie.
- Thank you.
Giorno hated Darian, Darian Bianchi was Fugo's first love, in chronological terms that's what Giorno knows, back then his love for Fugo was much more capricious, immature. Darian, as simple as he was, had something that Giorno wanted, that he had longed for and yet he couldn't even come close. On the few nights they went out together was when Giorno could follow them himself, what he hated most about this boy was just his simplicity, he seemed so little to Pannacotta, how could he dare to let himself be loved by Fugo? How could he feel worthy of him? It was like when Giorno had nothing, thin, pale, black hair and without the magnificence Fugo deserved. He watched them walk out, watched them kiss and watched them spend hours on a park bench chatting. Of course Giorno wasn't there all the time, but their relationship lasted almost three years and in those three years he was able to spy on them several times.
Darian broke Fugo's heart and Giorno hated him even more, Darian died one day in April, like Bruno, Narancia and Abbachio years ago and left Fugo in a dreadful state, Darian was going to propose to him, but a car accident ended his life that afternoon. It was not Giorno's fault, there was no one to blame really, Fugo could not even take revenge on the driver who had lost control of the car for a moment, he and his five year old daughter lost their lives along with Darian.
Giorno knew, of course he knew and so he took a few days off, left everything to Mista and Polnareff and traveled to where they lived in northern Italy. After the funeral Fugo went to their apartment and attempted suicide. He slashed the veins along his arms, the blood gushing out as well as his tears. Giorno was so upset, Fugo had left him just to avoid death. He had left Giorno to have a life and now for this insignificant boy he was giving it up. Giorno arranged for an ambulance to arrive, took care of Fugo in his unconsciousness and prevented him from bleeding to death, Golden Experience kept him alive long enough for the paramedics to arrive. Everyone, including Fugo, thought it was just luck.
When Fugo turned 24 he met Juliana, Juliana Caruso, Giorno remembers it very well. Fugo smiled again, Juliana was much nicer for Giorno, maybe because she was a florist and liked animals. Unlike Darian who only spent his time reading. Juliana took Fugo for ice cream on Wednesdays and stroked his hair. Giorno didn't hate her but he envied her. She had been able to accomplish something that didn't seem quite possible, Fugo looked happy, genuinely happy when they were together. Not that he wasn't with the dead boy, but they were so similar, both had a miserable touch but Juliana was much more cheerful, more alive.
Fugo asked her to marry him when they were 26 and that same year they were married, she had no family other than an aunt, the wedding was quick and small and they both lived in a rented cottage near the coast. So Giorno left Fugo alone, after a couple of visits like when he spied on him with Darian. At least almost completely, once every two or three months one of his men would pass him a small report. Just a "He was seen out at the market" or something like "He has bought flowers for his wife" and so almost four years passed. Giorno, who still loved Fugo, convinced that it was something in his blood, that Jotaro once mentioned to him that "A Joestar only love one person in life..." and that he later learned from Polnareff was about his dead love at the hands of his father, Dio, a boy named Kakyoin. From that comment onwards, his obsession with Fugo made sense and he let himself get wrapped up in that romantic fantasy to justify it. Fugo never tried to return, never tried to contact them, there was never any hint that he regretted not staying. So Giorno convinced himself that it was best just to watch him be happy from afar, to love him from a distance, at least until Fugo tried to commit suicide again. Giorno always wondered why he never tried Purple Haze, in fact Fugo never used it anymore.
This time it was not he who prevented his death, it was his landlord who had happened to visit him and was alarmed to find the door open and Fugo lying in the living room. His stomach was washed out, he had taken as many sleeping pills as he could. Giorno understood a little more this time. Fugo had been divorced, Juliana was pregnant but had lost a baby, a girl as far as he knew, and neither seemed to recover from it, the relationship was strained, sad and gradually became heavy, more than Fugo could bear, he had lost someone again. He was tired and preferred to take her out of his life because he couldn't take it anymore, he didn't have the strength to keep trying. Now Giorno understood him a little more. He was no longer an infatuated child, he would soon be 30 years old. It was around this time that Guido agreed to let Giorno turn him into a vampire.
Giorno pulled the strings of the Mafia to force Fugo to live just a little closer to Naples. First a charity fund to get Fugo out of depression, he was hospitalized for a month under the care of the nuns of a convent. Fugo was always very catholic, first taught by his grandmother and then by Bruno. Mista was too, he had told Giorno, how Bruno, Fugo and he went to Sunday mass whenever possible and dragged Narancia and Abbachio along from time to time.
After that he had an opening for a pianist appear in the newspaper, a couple of cities closer, not close enough yet but much nearer. That restaurant was one of the many businesses that Giorno kept in his bag, even if it was far outside his usual territory. After a year the restaurant opened a much bigger branch near Naples and Fugo had been asked to accept to go there, he would have better pay, a nicer piano, but he had refused. Giorno had to manage to get him to come over. He had propaganda sent to him about a new university, Fugo was a man of studies and although he no longer felt he fit into school life, not only because of his past but also because of his age, his curiosity was greater. At 36, Pannacotta Fugo had graduated with honors as an economist. He left the restaurant and found a job, which Giorno arranged a little further south but not so far south that Fugo refused, in a publishing company. Fugo was in charge of the entire finance department, how much and how every penny was spent. And Giorno was happy to see him back on his feet, Giorno was happy that Fugo was breathing daily.
-I would not like to see you die. I come to ask you to come back to my side.
Fugo hardly ever had angry outbursts anymore, in general his mood had mellowed, maybe because of time or because of all the losses, maybe because he was already too tired, but Giorno's words ignited a spark that he felt was already extinguished, it was not anger but his emotions stirred in his chest again like when he was a little boy.
-I have never met anyone more stubborn than you. You follow your dreams and chase your goals until you reach them. I guess time has a different value for you now... That's why you let it go by calmly, that's why all these years? - He picked up his cup and took a sip.
Giorno smiled sideways, he almost wanted to look offended but that strength in Fugo's words made him feel somehow proud.
-So... Pannacotta, what do you say?
Fugo looked at him, looked at Giorno's hands, so soft, young and smooth. That's how he remembered them that day in Libecchio, that's how Giorno always was.
-Why? - he asked, putting down his cup of rose milk tea on the small table by the window.
-Because it's time. You have already lived the life you wanted... You gave up on me to live it. It has come to an end, I know... Soon you will die, I can feel it.
Fugo let out a small snort, his old and aching body told him so too.
- But why me? GioGio... I'm just an old man and I'm not going to be of any use to you anymore, surely in this time you have achieved more than my skills could even imagine giving you. I am useless.
Giorno tilted his head and smiled with some melancholy.
-You never have been... Not to me. But if it's useless to repeat myself, please don't make me repeat it. I hate to do it but... for you I'd do it as many times as it takes. I'm here after all, repeating the same thing I did when I was sixteen.
-You're still sixteen.
-No, not anymore...
The two looked at each other, it was deep, Giorno's eyes full of determination, Fugo's eyes full of doubt.
-GioGio... I don't understand.
- Trish died last year. She just didn't wake up anymore. I miss her so much.
- I'm sorry about that.
- Thank you... I thought I could handle it, that by not seeing each other, by letting you live your life without bothering you I could maybe... But when she left I knew I couldn't handle the pain of losing you too.
-But you won't be alone GioGio, Mista is still with you, isn't he? Something tells me that he will be with you as long as you will be in this world.
Giorno nodded.
- You'll get through this, I know you will.
- And if I don't?
- Even you don't believe that.
Giorno smiled, but it was a sad smile.
- There is no one in this world with more willpower than you.
- I doubt it... I've been spying on you for decades, even though I've tried to stop many times, but I've never stopped being in love with you.
Fugo looked at him in shock.
- Oh, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry. I know I never told you, but it's been so long that it just felt natural to say it.
- You were in love with me?
- I am, even now...
- Even with... this? - Fugo said pointing to himself. Giorno took his hands, wrinkled and spotted, his fingers a little crooked and rough, stroked them gently.
- You are still you, your hair was always white, your eyes are still red with a hint of pink, and I know that you will still and forever be that kind and tantrum-tossed boy I met that day in Libbecchio.
- Oh GioGio. - Tears welled up in Pannacotta's eyes and Giorno wiped them away with one hand without letting go of Fugo's with the other. - GioGio, how can you say that to me? To an old man like me, to a useless and foolish old man.
-Please don't. Fugo... If you could see yourself as I see you, I know you would realize how valuable you are.
Fugo tried to say something but could not. He only released one of his hands from Giorno's and slowly caressed his cheek and golden hair, Giorno let himself be done by his touch, closing his eyes and leaning into the rose of their skins.
The sun was beginning to set. Fugo thought of Narancia, of how much he had loved Narancia, also of Bruno and Abbachio and how much he missed them. He thought about wanting to see them, that had been his consolation these last years, that he could see them soon and apologize for not having gone on the boat, for not having been with them in their last moments, for not having died in their place. But now Giorno was asking him to stay, to wait indefinitely, asking him to live when so long ago he had refused because he did not want to die. Things were completely opposite. He felt infinitely selfish to refuse again.
-GioGio... - He pronounced, still with tears in his eyes, forcing his tired body to lean on the old wooden floor, he kissed Giorno's hand that he still held between his own - I could not deny you something again, you can take me. As long as I live I will serve your dream, Please accept my body, my heart and my soul. That is my hope and that is my future. I am yours, our GioGio.
And then, as Fugo had predicted, that time when he saw Giorno again, his life ended.
Pannacotta Fugo died that evening, it was not April, it was an October 7th night. Giorno had killed him to make him be reborn, his body now as when they had met so many years ago rested in the arms of Giorno Giovanna, in the shock of his death and resurrection is that he had found himself losing his strength and smiling Giorno welcomed him to his new life.
His hair was still white but there were no more stains on his hands, nor was his back hunched, there was no pain in his knees or wrinkles on his skin.
-GioGio...- He said and his voice sounded like he hadn't heard it for so long.
Giorno kissed his cheek.
-Welcome home.