Archive of Our Own

These types of things always made Mista nervous. Too many people. Too many doors. Too much going on. He couldn’t keep track of everything and that drove him crazy. Sure he had Fugo and a few others helping, but he had a hard time trusting anyone other than himself. It didn’t help that they'd had such a close call earlier that week. It put him on edge. He knew that if it really came to it, Giorno could handle himself, but he still didn’t like it.

It took a lot of effort to try to maintain a “casual” distance from Giorno as he nonchalantly made his way through the ballroom floor, occasionally stopping at one of the small groups of people when someone flagged him down. Mista would much rather be at his side. It would be safer, but they were trying to keep up appearances. They couldn’t look paranoid. But Mista was paranoid. Every lingering eye, every hand in a pocket, every outburst of laughter. It all felt like a threat.

Giorno met Mista’s eyes through the crowd. His expression didn’t change and it was only for a second, but he knew what it meant; he’d been staring at Giorno too long, it was too obvious that he was watching him. Mista quickly broke eye contact and turned to the hors d'oeuvres table behind him. He grabbed a cracker with some brie and jam on it and shoved it in his mouth without thinking. He grimaced. Raspberry, he really hated raspberry. Glancing out of the corner of his eye he saw Giorno making his way to the other side of the room and headed in the same direction, making sure to take the long way over, not looking directly at him. He passed by a waiter carrying a tray of wine and swiped a glass.

The worst thing about these types of events was that Mista knew that Giorno didn’t like them. They drained him. Keeping up a public image and good relations with people was important to Giorno. It was something that Mista actually really admired about him, he was determined to rebuild the reputation of Passione. He wanted to make it into an organization that the people felt they could trust like it had once been and that meant putting in the time with the public, and being very visible. Giorno actually really enjoyed talking to people and helping them even when it was little things. He made a point to set aside time to go out in the neighborhood and make sure everything was going well, even though it put him at risk. While most of the public seemed to like him and what he was doing, there were still those that would like nothing more than to see him dead.

Mista took a swig of his wine as he leaned against a pillar. He was trying not to think about the events of the other day. Trying not to think about Giorno’s blood soaked shirt, or about how quickly everything had gotten out of hand. What kind of old lady tries to assassinate a mob boss anyway? It didn’t matter. Mista had let his guard down and Giorno paid the price.

Mista glanced over at Giorno and felt his heart jump into his throat. Where was he? He was there a second ago.

“Stop standing so stiff.”

Mista gave a small jump and turned to see Giorno right next to him. Giorno raised an eyebrow at him and held out his hand. Without a second though, Mista handed him his wine.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Giorno took a sip of wine and sighed, letting his shoulders fall for a second. “Do you think it would be safe to head home in a bit.”

Mista glanced at his watch, “Yeah I’d say three hours is good.” He watched Giorno’s face for a moment and suddenly he could see how exhausted he was. “You okay?” he said so softly it was barely audible.

Giorno nodded, taking another sip of the wine before handing it back to Mista, “That’s fowl.”

“Oh come on, I thought it was pretty good.”

“It’s too dry.”

“Well I’m sorry, next time I’ll be sure to grab a shitty rosé for you, or you know, you could stop stealing my wine.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Giorno’s mouth as he walked away, slipping into the crowd again.

Mista sighed, letting some of the tension leave his body. They only had to last a little bit longer then they could go back home where Mista knew they were safe and Giorno would undoubtedly pass out almost immediately on the couch like he always did after big events like this.

Suddenly the tension was back as Mista watched a woman separate herself from her partner and head straight for Giorno in the far corner of the ballroom. Mista made a beeline for her, setting his wine glass on an empty table as he passed it. He slipped his hand into his suit jacket, closing it on his pistol. Damn it. He didn’t want to make a scene in public like this. Why here? Why now?

“Excuse me.” The woman’s voice shook slightly as she spoke and Giorno turned to her. “I…um…you’re…you’re Giorno Giovanna, yes?”

Giorno nodded, glancing past her for a second to signal to Mista to keep his distance. Mista slid into a nearby table, careful not to take his eyes off Giorno and the woman.

“I know this probably isn’t the place, but…” the woman earnestly stepped closer to Giorno and Mista gripped his pistol tighter. “I need your help.” her eyes fell and she squeezed the small clutch that she was holding, “I’m not sure what to do I-”

“Why don’t we go talk somewhere a bit more private.” Giorno cut in and the woman looked up at him, her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. She seemed surprised.

“Oh..okay.” She stepped back and gave a small yelp as she bumped into Mista.

“I think there’s a small room, just down the hall.” Mista said, ignoring the woman’s surprise. He didn’t back away to give her room either.

Giorno nodded and Mista led them to a nearby door that led to one of the side halls. They walked a little ways down the hall before Mista opened one of the doors. He and Fugo had asked that a few of the unused dressing rooms were to be kept unlocked just in case they needed a quick place to hide or somewhere to talk privately. He held the door and motioned for the woman to enter first. She eyed him nervously but walked in anyways. Giorno followed her and Mista closed the door behind them after giving the hallway a quick sweeping glance.

Mista stayed by the door as Giorno turned one of the chairs to face the other in the room. He politely motioned for the woman to take a seat and waited for her to settle herself before sitting down himself. He smiled at her gently, waiting expectantly for her to start talking.

“I, uh…I…” She glanced at Mista again.

“Don’t worry about Mista, he’s just doing his job and making sure we’re safe. Anything you need to say to me you can say in front of him.” Giorno looked at him, “I trust him with my life.”

Mista felt his face grow a little hot. He always knew that Giorno felt that way and he felt the same about Giorno, but it wasn’t often that he said it out loud.

“Oh.” The woman said quietly. She dropped her eyes again and let out a big sigh. “I- my father used to always tell me that if I ever needed help, I could trust Passione. I never thought much about it, but…I have a friend…She- well she’s in trouble. Her husband, he’s always been rather rotten, why she married him I don’t know, but he’s a violent man. He scares me…” She trailed off for a moment before finally looking back up at Giorno. “The last time I saw her he’d broken her nose. She told me that he was getting worse, but she refused to call the police. You see, she’s afraid that if she does, then they might take her little boy from her. But I’m afraid that if she doesn’t get help that he might kill her.” she looked down again, gripping her clutch so tightly her knuckles went white. “I wouldn’t put it past him, not ever since he started hitting the boy too.”

It happened quickly and was almost imperceptible, but Mista saw it. Giorno clenched his jaw and his body stiffened. He was upset, but why? Was it because there was a kid involved? Giorno normally didn't let things like that get to him.

“How old is he?”

The woman blinked up at him, a little taken back by the question. “What?”

“Her son, how old is he?” There was a very slight edge to his voice, but the woman didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh…I think he’s about five or six now.”

Giorno paused for a beat too long. Something was definitely wrong. “Does she have somewhere to go?”

The woman shook her head, “She’s got no family left.”

“What about you? Could your friend stay with you?”

She glanced away, but this time there was a hint of shame. “No- I don’t think that’s a good idea. With her son and my- my profession…no…that wouldn’t work.” For the first time Mista noticed the lackluster color of her dress and the obvious hand stitched repairs to the seams.

“Understood.” Giorno said, “That’s no problem, I’m sure we can sort something out.”

The woman stared at him with slight confusion.

“I presume you can provide us with her information; her name, address, her husband’s name?”

She continued to stare at him for a moment before realization hit her and her eyes welled with tears. “Oh thank you. I-” her voice caught in her throat.

Giorno leaned forward and lightly placed a hand on her shaking shoulder as she hurriedly wiped away her tears, smearing some of her make-up. Pulling the handkerchief from his suit pocket, Giorno offered it to her.

“Oh…” she gently took it from him. “Thank you.” she said quietly, wiping under her eyes. “Um,” She fumbled with her bag, sniffling. “I wrote everything down. I have it right here.” She pulled out a small book and handed it to him. “And I hope it’s okay, but this is all I have right now.” she said as she produced a good sized stack of euros.

Giorno waved it away, “There’s no need for that.”

“B-but.”

He shook his head. “Why don’t you take a moment to collect yourself. I promise you that I’m going to take care of this personally.”

Mista stared at him as the woman’s eyes went wide. She stammered to herself for a moment as Giorno stood up, walking over to Mista and handing him the book. Giorno met his eyes, holding on to the book for a second too long and Mista understood that they would talk about this later.

“Excuse me for being so rude, but I never asked your name.”

“Claudia. My name is Claudia.”

“Well Miss Claudia,” Giorno said, turning back to the woman as she finished fixing her make-up. “If you would allow us to, it would be our pleasure to escort you back to the ballroom.” He gave her a soft smile.

Mista had to look away. He thought that after all this time he would get used to it, but Giorno still managed to surprise him with how smooth he could be. He was always so quiet and serious and then out of nowhere he would do something like this. Within a second he’d managed to completely change the atmosphere of the room.

As they slipped back into the ballroom Claudia thanked Giorno once more before disappearing into one of the small groups of chatting guests.

“We should head out.” Giorno said quietly.

Mista nodded scanning through the crowd until he met Fugo’s eyes across the room. He nodded to him and Fugo peeked his head out the door before giving them the okay to head over.

“Where did you guys disappear to?” Fugo muttered to Mista as they exited the building.

The car was waiting for them out front and Mista opened the door for Giorno. He leaned toward Fugo, “Just get in the car.”

Fugo looked slightly irritated, but made his way over to the driver’s seat without any argument. Mista glanced around once more to make sure everything was clear before sliding into the back seat next to Giorno. They drove in silence for a few minutes before Giorno held out his hand. Mista placed Claudia’s small book in his palm. He opened it and started skimming through the pages.

“Fugo, I need you to do something for me.”

Fugo looked at him in the rearview mirror.

“There’s a woman, Maria Leone. I need you to find out what you can about her, her husband Stefano, and her son Michael. I need their schedules, habits, friends, neighbors, anything you can tell me.” He closed the book and handed it to Fugo who took it without looking. “Can you get it to me by the end of the week?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll need you to use your judgment as to if it can wait a week though.”

Fugo raised an eyebrow at Giorno in the mirror.

“The husband is unstable, he might snap. I’m not sure how bad it actually is. While I’d prefer to be prepared, we may not have that luxury.”

“You were serious weren’t you.” Mista stared at him. “You really plan to deal with this yourself.”

“Yes.” Giorno turned to look at him, there was a look of defiance in his eyes as if he was ready for a fight. “Is there a problem with that?”

There it was again, that almost undetectable edge to his voice. What was it about this that had him so miffed? “No.” Mista said quickly, “I’m just surprised is all.”

Mista searched his face for answers. He didn’t like how tense Giorno was, it made him uneasy. He slid his hand subtly on the seat towards Giorno, closing the space between them, resting his hand so it just barely touched Giorno’s leg.

In an instant something flickered in Giorno’s eyes. Guilt? Shame? What was it? He quickly turned to look out the window. The car fell silent and Mista leaned back in his seat, his hand drifting away as he watched the road ahead of them. A few minutes passed and the sound of the tires on the road seemed amplified. Mista’s stomach fluttered in surprise as Giorno’s hand found his. It was the lightest of touches, but he could feel that it was an apology. Something was really wrong. Giorno was not okay and Mista hated that he didn’t know why. He usually didn’t have a problem reading him, but right now he felt like he was missing something.

Mista watched Giorno over his magazine. The tea he’d made him earlier had gone cold. He hadn’t even attempted to drink it, he'd just held it as he stared at the window. Mista knew he wasn’t really seeing the window, he hadn’t moved at all since they’d gotten home. The closest Giorno had come to talking to him was when he nodded to the offer of tea. Other than that the two of them had just sat quietly in the living room.

Mista was getting drowsy. It was late, but he didn’t want to go to bed, not as long as Giorno was like this, but he didn’t want to push him either. Mista shifted slightly in his seat and Giorno seemed to snap back. He looked down at his cold tea and Mista quickly pretended to read again. Giorno placed the cup on the coffee table and Mista could feel his eyes on him as he sat back on the couch, bringing his knees up.

“Mista?”

“Hmm?” Mista tried to seem as if he hadn’t noticed that anything had changed as he looked up at Giorno. He looked oddly small when he hugged his knees to his chest like that and Mista felt something sinking in his chest as he realized how vulnerable he seemed.

“What were your parents like?”

“My parents?” Mista was taken back by the question.

He closed his magazine and tucked it between the armrest and cushion. None of them really talked much about their pasts. He had vaguely known a little about Naracia and Abbacchio, but had never learned details. He knew that Bucciarati had known everyone’s story, but it was just something no one discussed.

“Well,” Mista started slowly, “I never really knew my dad. He died in a car crash when I was just a baby and Mom…” he drifted off for a minute as he was faced with flashes, memories. His mother’s kind smile. The way she used to ruffle his hair affectionately when she would scold him. Her trying not to wake him as she came in late from work and heated up the dinner he’d left for her. Her insisting that he needed to stay in school. Him being careful not to knock over her empties while she was passed out on the couch. “She…she tried her best.”

A wave of mixed emotions washed over Mista. He’d never talked about her to anyone before. He’d never told anyone how he blamed himself for his mother’s drinking. How he knew the stress of raising a son as a single mother had put on her. How he ran away at age fifteen to free her from that, to let her live her life. He tried to push it down. He didn’t want to think about all that. It was easier if he didn’t dwell on it. His throat felt tight and he was all too aware of the shallowness of his breathing.

It didn’t matter. Her life was easier without him. He’d checked up on her two years after he’d left and she was doing alright. And hey, he was doing fine. He’d found a family. Mista’s thoughts lingered on everyone they’d lost and he felt an emptiness in his chest. No. He shouldn’t think too much about that. There was nothing he could do about it now. He had Giorno and Fugo and Trish, what did it matter, he still had a family.

Giorno reached out a hand toward Mista from where he sat on the couch. Mista stared at it a moment before walking over to sit down next to him. Giorno slid his hand into Mista’s and gave it a small squeeze before letting it go and resting the backs of their hands together. There was something grounding about his touch. It brought Mista back and he took a steadying breath.

Giorno stared down at their hands, but his eyes looked far away. “I don’t really remember much from before my mother married and we moved to Italy,” he said quietly. “The man she married…” Mista could feel Giorno tense next to him. “He used to hit me.”

The statement hung in the air for a while and the silence that followed was louder than ever.

“When I was young I used to think that I must have done something to deserve it. My mother used to act as if she didn’t notice the bruises.” Giorno’s eyebrows knit in anger. “What kind of a person hits a kid? I was five years old.” His voice shook slightly and Mista felt something wet hit his hand.

“Giorno…” he said quietly, but Giorno quickly looked away, taking his hand away from Mista’s and wiping his face with his sleeve. Mista could feel a heat radiating off his body as he reached out to touch him. He let his hand hover behind Giorno.

“A coward. That’s the type of person who does that.” Giorno said through gritted teeth.

Mista let his hand rest on Giorno’s shoulder and Giorno turned to look at him. His face was splotchy as he fought off more tears and Mista felt his chest tightening. He gently reached up and brushed away a tear before pulling Giorno toward him. Giorno let himself fall into Mista, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing him tight.

Mista gently pet Giorno’s hair as he laid on his chest. “I’m sorry,” He mumbled, “I shouldn’t have questioned you.”

“No.” Giorno said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Mista looked down at him confused, “For what?”

Giorno looked up at him, “For snapping at you earlier. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Mista blinked at him, flabbergasted. “What? Giorno, that doesn’t matter.”

Giorno sat up sniffling, “But you seemed upset.”

“I was just worried about you.” Mista let out a small laugh. He couldn’t believe that after everything that had just happened Giorno was worried he’d upset him.

“Oh…” Giorno wiped his face with his sleeve again and glanced over at his untouched tea. “Mista?”

“Mhm?”

Giorno’s ears looked a little pinker than the rest of his face, “Would you make me some more tea?” He looked at Mista with a guilty look and Mista felt his stomach flutter again. Fuck. Why did he have to be so cute about it?

“Of course.” Mista said, letting out a sigh of relief as he got up and brought the cup to the kitchen behind them. He put a new pot on the stove, “Oh and Giorno,” Giorno looked at him over the back of the couch. “We’ll make sure that kid is okay.” Mista smiled.

Giorno gave him a shy smile back before settling himself on the couch again. He absentmindedly fiddled with the button on his sleeve. It broke off and he stared at it in his hand a moment before turning it into a small flower. Ever since he’d discovered his stand power he’d done stuff like that. It calmed him. When he was younger it used to remind him that he wasn’t useless. How could he be useless if he could create life.

He gently placed the flower on the table as Mista handed him a fresh cup of tea and sat down next to him. Giorno sipped the tea and a warmth spread through him.

“Thank you.” Giorno said softly.

“Of course, I’m always happy to make you tea.” Mista grinned at him.

Giorno let out a quiet chuckle and leaned his head on Mista’s shoulder, “Not for the tea you idiot.”

“Where is this guy? Fugo said he should be home by now.” Mista leaned back groaning.

“He’s bound to show up sooner or later.” Giorno said.

The two of them had been parked next to the apartment for hours waiting for Stefano to show up. Fugo had been watching the place for a week now and Giorno trusted that he wasn’t wrong. Though if he was he was willing to wait all night. The plan wasn’t complicated. They were going to confront Stefano before he was able to go up to the apartment. They’d beat him up, threaten him with his life, generally scare the shit out of him, and then Fugo would keep an eye on him and make sure he stayed far away from Maria and her son. Yes, the plan was simple, nothing they hadn’t done before, but Giorno couldn’t help but feel on edge.

Mista glanced at the sandwich sitting on the dashboard. “You should eat.”

“I’m fine.”

“What, you don’t like my sandwiches or something?”

“I’m just not hungry.”

“Miiiissssttttaaaaa! We’re hungry!” Number Two was tugging at Mista’s hat. He swatted him away.

“You should still try to eat.”

“Miiiisssssttttaaa!

Giorno laughed quietly, “They can have it, it’s fine.”

The pistols all cheered and rushed for the sandwich, but Mista snatched it away from them. “Giorno.”

Giorno turned to look at him, “I’m not going to eat it, they can have it.”

Mista narrowed his eyes at him for a minute then sighed and tossed the sandwich to the pistols who immediately started tearing into it. Number Two and Number Three pushed Number Five away from the sandwich, knocking him onto his butt.

“Miiiissssttttaaaa!” Number Five cried.

“Hey,” Mista snapped. “Knock it off.”

Giorno broke a piece of the sandwich off and handed it to Number Five who promptly stopped crying, “Thank you Giorno!”

Mista groaned and put his head in his hands, “Don’t encourage him.”

Giorno looked at him innocently, “What do you mean?”

“You know what I- ugh, just forget it.” Mista leaned back in his seat again and yawned as he went back to watching the street. “Hey,” He sat up straight, “Was that car there before?” He pointed at a car parked on the street. “Shit.” Mista started fumbling through the pictures Fugo had taken. “Damn it, that’s his car. We missed him. Sneaky bastard.”

Giorno felt his stomach drop. He had wanted to end this tonight. Fugo had said that it hadn’t been that bad this week and he didn’t think he hit the kid, but still. Giorno opened the door and started climbing out of the car.

“Woah. Hang on a second.” Mista scrambled out after him. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going after him.” Giorno said coolly.

“We can just wait and do it tomorrow night. We should stick to the plan.”

Giorno turned away and continued across the street.

“Son of a-” Mista muttered to himself and hurried after him. “Giorno.” He hissed. “Come on.”

“I don’t want to have to wait another night.”

“I know, but-”

A woman screamed from one of the upper story apartments. Giorno shot a look at Mista before bolting into the building.

“God damn it.” Mista muttered, pulling out his pistol and rushing in after him. This was not how this was supposed to go.

Inside the building the yelling was much louder. It was a wonder that none of the neighbors had ever called the police before. Giorno was taking the stairs two and three at a time. They had to get to the fourth floor and the screaming was getting louder. There were a few crashes and Mista guessed that one of them was throwing things. The screaming was starting to sound like pleading and sobbing and Mista felt nauseated. They’d all seen a lot and been through a lot but he still couldn’t stand the idea of someone so helpless being taken advantage of or hurt in that way. It had always gotten under his skin.

As they rounded the third floor landing a loud thump sounded from the floor above them and suddenly the screaming stopped, but silence didn’t follow, something worse did: the sound of a child crying. A wave of panic washed over Mista. No. Not the kid. No. Leave him alone you bastard.

Mista was only a few steps behind Giorno as they bolted down the hall. Before they had even reached the door Giorno had already transformed the lock into a mouse that hit the ground and skittered away, leaving a hole in its place, allowing Giorno to bust into the apartment with no resistance.

“Who the-” Stefano didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Giorno had sent him flying across the room with a few well aimed punches from Gold Experience. For the most part they never used their stands on non stand users, but Mista had a feeling that Giorno didn’t care right now. Mista slid in behind him and pointed his pistol at Stefano.

Stefano groaned and started to get up, but Mista stepped closer, cocking his gun with a click, “Stay down.” His voice was, sure, commanding, and a bit menacing.

He glanced at the rest of the room, taking in the scene. Maria laid unconscious on the ground, a pool of blood collecting around her head. It looked like she must have hit the nearby table. He could still hear the boy crying, but he couldn’t see him. He had to be somewhere behind them. Giorno rushed over to Maria to assess the damage. Mista saw him healing her with Gold Experience and all he could think of was how lucky she was that she was unconscious for that.

Giorno looked up at Mista after a minute and nodded, “She’s stable, but she’ll probably still need help.”

Mista knew that Giorno could probably do more to help her, but it was best if they didn’t. She was still just a normal civilian and god forbid she regained consciousness during it.

Stefano spit blood on the floor. Damn, Giorno got him pretty good, it looked like he might have swallowed a few teeth. “Who the fuck do you think you are!?” He demanded as he tried to get up again.

Mista slammed him down with a foot to the chest. “I thought I told you to stay down, fucker.” Mista glanced back at Giorno, “Take the kid out of here, I can handle him.”

Giorno hesitated for a second, but nodded and walked somewhere behind Mista in the direction of the crying.

“Hi there,” Giorno said gently and the crying quieted to a sniffling, “I’m going to take you out of here okay?”

“M-m-mama…” The kid whimpered.

“She’ll be okay, we’ll take care of her.”

Mista flinched as the boy started screaming, “MAMA!MAAAMMMAAA!”

He glanced over as Giorno slipped out of the room carrying the kid.

“Hey! Come back here!” Stefano yelled after him.

Mista lifted his foot off his chest for a second and kicked him in the face, “Shut up. You’re in no position to be making demands Stefano. Besides you and I are going to have a little conversation.”

“Wah?” Stefano groaned through gushing blood as he clutched his now thoroughly broken nose.

Without taking his eyes off Stefano’s face, Mista pointed his gun down and fired a shot into the man’s kneecap.

Stephano’s screams of pain were loud even from the ground floor where Giorno set the kid down. He was only whimpering now, but tears still streamed down his face. In this lighting Giorno could actually see the damage. The boy’s lip was split and bleeding and the whole right side of his face was red as if he’d been slammed into something.

Giorno knelt down in front of him. “My name is Giorno, you want to tell me yours?”

The boy sniffed a few times, staring at Giorno with huge, terrified eyes. He was silent for a long while, but eventually he stopped crying, “M-Michael.”

“It’s nice to meet you Michael.” Giorno smiled at him and gave his shoulders a gentle squeeze. “You’re safe now, okay? Do you understand? You’re safe.”

Michael nodded and wiped his nose on his arm.

“Okay, now I have a very important question for you: Do you like magic Michael?”

He nodded again, but this time some of the fear had started to leave his eyes.

“Watch this.” Giorno took off one of his brooches and showed it to the boy, he then closed his hand around it and when he opened it, he’d transformed it into a butterfly that flew around them before fluttering up the stairwell.

Michael gasped in amazement. “How did you do that?”

Giorno winked at him, “It’s my little secret. You want me to do it again?”

He nodded eagerly.

Giorno took off one of his shoes. “Alright I’m going to need you to close your eyes for this one. Hold out your hands.”

Michael did as he was told and Giorno made the shoe into a tiny bunny. He gently placed the bunny into the boy's hands and Michael squealed at the feeling. He opened his eyes and gasped again.

“A bunny rabbit!” he smiled and Giorno felt a warmth spread through him. He needed to keep Michael distracted for as long as he could, but getting a smile out of him was more than he could have asked for.

“Okay Michael, I need you to take care of that bunny for me while I make a phone call real quick. You think you could do that?”

The building felt oddly quiet now that the screaming and crying had stopped. Mista wondered if maybe Giorno had taken the kid to the car. Everything had happened so fast. He sighed heavily as he rounded the stairs to the ground floor and was surprised to see the boy sitting on the floor petting a baby bunny as Giorno hung up the nearby payphone.

Giorno turned around and looked Mista up and down, taking in his blood sprayed pants. He gave him a look.

“Don’t worry,” he sighed, “He’s alive.”

“They should be here soon to take care of Maria. Once everyone is out of here then we can call an ambulance for Stefano.”

Mista glanced down at Michael, “So what’s our plan now? Maria’s not going to be able to take care of him.”

“He’s got no one.” Giorno said quietly and Mista had a feeling he knew exactly where this was going.

“Okay.”

Giorno knelt down in front of Michael again. “Michael?” The boy looked up at him, “Your mother is going to be okay, but the doctors are going to have to take care of her for a while. Would you want to stay with Mista and I?”

Michael looked between the two of them as Mista sat down on the ground to join them. He looked unsure.

“Come on kiddo, it’ll be fun. We can watch movies and make cookies and you can even keep the bunny.”

Michael pressed his lips together as he considered the offer. After a minute he finally nodded.

Michael fell asleep on the way to the apartment. Mista supposed that he must have been exhausted. The poor kid had been through a lot. He and Giorno didn’t say a word as Giorno carried him into the apartment. They carefully changed him into a pair of pajamas that Mista had jammed into a bag from the kid’s room before they had left and tucked him into the bed in the guest bedroom. He looked so small in that bed.

“I’m gonna go shower.” Mista said as they closed the bedroom door.

Giorno nodded and he headed down the hallway. Giorno knew he should probably head to bed. His body felt exhausted, but his mind was too busy. He slowly made his way to the living room, not bothering to turn on any of the lights. He sat on the couch and stared into the darkness.

“You should be in bed.”

Giorno turned slowly to see Mista standing behind him freshly showered. He looked away from him and after a minute Mista sat down next to him quietly.

“You’re wondering if we did the right thing.” He sighed, “We did. Trust me. You just think too much Giorno.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“It’s simple. What else were we going to do? Nothing?”

“What are we going to do with him?”

Mista leaned back to streach, “We’ll figure it out. How hard can it be?” He bounced off the couch and offered Giorno his hand. “Now come on, go to bed.”

It was surprising how quickly they fell into a routine. Every morning Mista and Giorno got up early and met with Fugo and Polnereff to make sure everything was running smoothly. Then they’d head back; Mista would make breakfast while Giorno got Michael up. They tried to keep Michael out of the house as they both agreed that keeping him occupied was probably the best thing for him. At first it had made Mista nervous because he knew that it put Giorno at a considerable risk being so out in the open, but they’d been lucky and no one had tried anything. Mista joked that maybe committing murder infront of a child was were the assassins drew the line.

They built a hutch for Michael’s bunny that he named Antonio which Mista thought was ridiculous since he struggled to say Giorno’s name. But Giorno said he didn’t mind that Michael called him GioGio. He thought it was cute so Mista stopped trying to correct him.

The first real night that the three of them spent together Mista told Michael that he would cook him whatever he wanted and Michael requested carbonara.

“Do you know how to make carbonara?”

Mista looked at Giorno offended, “Of course I do.” He then turned back to Michael, “Michael do you want to help me to make some cavatelli?”

Michael nodded excitedly.

“Come on Giorno, you can help too.”

“Mista…” Giorno muttered, “You know I can’t cook.”

“It’s not cooking, it’s rolling pasta. It’s easy, even you can do it.”

Giorno hadn’t expected Mista to take on as much responsibility as he had. It'd been Giorno’s decision to take Michael in, but like he always did, Mista went along with it with no questions. Giorno often found himself watching the two of them. He’d always known that Mista was secretly the nurturing type. He had a habit of doting on Giorno, but with Michael it was a lot more obvious.

“Oh hey, I think I found it.” Mista handed Giorno a paper.

“No that’s not it.” Giorno rubbed his temples.

“You getting a headache? We can stop, finish this up tomorrow.”

“No it’s fine.”

Papers littered the table as the two of them searched through them. There had been a mess up in the ledgers and they were trying to find the missing pieces. Michael sat at the end of the table humming to himself as he drew. He kicked his legs back and forth absently.

Giorno stood up, “I’m going to make some coffee, do you want some?”

Mista shook his head.

The phone rang and Mista jumped up instinctively.

“I got it.” Giorno said, picking up the phone next to him.

Mista turned to sit back down but Micael was at his side, tugging on his shirt.

“Mista! Mista! Look, I drew a picture of you and GioGio!” Michael proudly presented him with his drawing.

In all honesty it was pretty bad, but that didn’t matter. “Wow!” Mista said, “This is great Michael.”

“Did you see I drew Antonio too?”

Mista squinted at the paper for a moment until he finally saw the little gray blob that he supposed Michael was talking about. “Oh yeah, it looks just like him.”

Mista glanced up at Giorno who had just hung up the phone. Their eyes met and Mista knew it was something important.

“You know what Michael, this is so good, you should go put it on the fridge.”

Michael beamed at him and ran to the fridge as Giorno casually walked over to Mista.

“Make sure you pick a good spot.” Mista called to him, not looking away from Giorno. He couldn’t quite read his expression. He somehow looked happy and sad at the same time.

“That was Fugo,” He said quietly, “They said Maria’s going to be ready to go home tomorrow.”

Mista felt his stomach drop. He knew that he should be happy, but he’d also grown used to Michael.

“Good.” His voice sounded hollow.

Giorno reached out and touched his hand lightly.

“GioGio!” Michael was tugging on Giorno’s sleeve. “Come look at my drawing!”

“GioGio, it’s your turn.”

“Oh sorry, my bad.” Giorno said, picking up the dice.

Mista knew that Giorno was watching the clock. Any minute now Fugo would arrive with Maria. He felt selfish, but he wished that they just had a little more time with Michael. It had only been two weeks, but the thought of Michael not being there made Mista’s chest ache. But this was alway a temporary thing, they were never supposed to get used to it.

The doorbell rang and Giorno stood up stiffly, “I’ll get it.”

Mista tried his best not to watch Giorno walk to the door as he took his turn.

“Come on in.”

“Thank you.”

Michael looked up at the familiar voice.

“I’m Giorno Giovanna.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Mama?” Michael slid off his chair. “Mama!” He ran to his mother.

Mista stayed seated a moment as he finished his turn. He stared at the board, they would never finish this game. He fixed a smile on his face. Don’t think about that. Michael is going home to a mother that loves him, where he belongs.

“Michael sweetheart! I missed you!”

Mista stood up and slowly walked over to them.

Michael pulled away from his mother. “Mama, are you coming to live with us now?”

Maria blinked at her son in surprise and Giorno knelt down to his level. “No Michael, you and your mother are going to have your own place.”

Michael’s eyebrows knit in confusion, “Are you and Mista coming to live with us then.”

Mista chuckled. It hurt. But he couldn’t let that show, “No kiddo, but we might come visit you.”

Michael fell silent. He seemed to be struggling a bit. “But how will we be safe?”

“You and your mother will be plenty safe in your new home, trust me.” Giorno smiled at him, but Mista could see the effort it was costing him too.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Thank you,” Maria said, “For everything.”

“Don’t thank us Miss, you should thank your friend Miss Claudia, we were just doing our job.”

“Well I appreciate all you’ve done.” Maria bent down to Michael, “Come on Michael, we’re going home now.”

Michael stared between Mista and Giorno and it struck Mista how differently he looked at them now than he had on that first night. Michael bolted at them, wrapping his arms around Giorno’s legs.

“I love you GioGio!” He turned and did the same to Mista, “I love you Mista!”

“We love you too.” Giorno said, smiling at him.

“Yeah, love you too kiddo.” Mista ruffled his hair.

Michael took his mother’s hand again and the two of them started for the door. Michael looked back at them before they left and waved, “See ya!”

The silence was deafening. It had never been a problem before. Giorno and Mista often just sat together, but it felt so empty now.

Mista sat with a magazine as Giorno finished up some paperwork on the couch. He had a lot to catch up on since he hadn’t had enough time to get everything done during the two weeks that they had been taking care of Michael. Mista listened to Giorno’s pen scratching the page as he stared at the paragraph in front of him. He’d been staring at the same paragraph for the past hour.

Giorno stopped writing and Mista heard him put his papers down. He sat back on the couch as the quiet pressed in on them. Mista glanced over the top of his magazine at him. He was staring at the blank TV. A few minutes ticked by and neither of them moved, they barely even breathed.

“It’s too quiet.” Giorno’s voice felt too loud in the silence.

Mista sat up in his seat, closing his magazine. “Do you want to watch a movie?” Giorno stared at him a long while and Mista felt his face growing hot. That was a stupid suggestion. Every night they had watched movies with Michael. How was that supposed to help things?

“Or we could just um, put on music or something.” Mista said quickly.

Giorno smiled, “I’d like to watch a movie.”

Relief washed over Mista, he was glad to see Giorno smile. “Okay,” he said, hopping off his seat and walking over to the VHS cabinet, “What do you want to watch?”

“Hmm,” Giorno thought for a moment, “Do you have any movies that don’t have Clint Eastwood in them?”

Mista glared back at him, “You got a problem with Clint Eastwood?”

“No, I just feel like his are the only movies you own.”

“He’s a great actor, why wouldn’t I have all his films?”

“Do you have any horror films?”

“You want to watch a horror film?”

“I don’t know, I was just thinking something different.”

Mista stared at Giorno for a long moment, “Fine.” He grabbed a tape out. “We’ll watch this one then.”

“What is it?” Giorno asked as Mista put it into the VCR.

“Something different.”

“Is it a Clint Eastwood movie?”

“Yes.”

“Then how is that different?”

“Because you haven't seen it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you don’t watch movies except with me.”

“Well why haven’t we watched it yet?”

“Because…just shut up, we’re watching the movie.” Mista’s face was turning red.

“Can you bring the blanket.”

Mista grabbed a blanket off of the chair they never used and tossed it to Giorno who proceeded to wrap himself neatly in it as Mista turned off the lights. He plopped down next to him and Giorno offered him the blanket wordlessly. Mista could feel the heat from his face creeping down his neck. He took the blanket and Giorno repositioned himself a bit so they could both fit.

“Is it an action movie?”

“No.”

“A western?”

“No.”

“And it’s not a horror film?”

“I already told you no. Can we just watch the movie?” Mista’s heart sounded too loud as it pounded in his ears. He really wanted Giorno to stop asking questions.

Giorno was quiet for a long time as they watched the previews. “Is it a romance movie?” he finally asked.

Mista was silent. He was very aware of their closeness as Giorno turned to look at him, waiting for an answer.

“Yes.” he said quietly.

Giorno seemed to consider that for a moment. “Hm.” he said thoughtfully and shrugged before resting his head on Mista’s shoulder.

Mista’s stomach fluttered and he clenched his fist, trying to slow down his heart rate. He glanced at Giorno out of the corner of his eye. He was smiling. He looked comfortable and relaxed. Mista took a deep breath to calm himself. The movie started and Mista leaned his head lightly on Giorno’s and couldn’t help but smile.