Si Dolce È'l Tormento | A BruAbba Story

Giorno

Giorno opened his eyes to midmorning sunlight streaming through the open window, falling across band posters and piles of unfolded clothes. Mista's room. Mista was slumped forward in the chair beside the bed, dozing. Giorno shifted in the nest of pillows and blankets, and a heretofore unnoticed smudge of pink moved in the corner of his eye. Trish leaned forward from her seat on the opposite side of the bed, her delicate eyebrows drawing together.

"Hey, hey, how do you feel?"

Giorno shifted to sit up against the pile of pillows – more than one person could have had in their room, surely. "I –" his cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse. "I'm alright."

Trish threw a balled-up sock at Mista. He startled awake, blinking in confusion before he noticed Giorno. His eyes went wide. "Oh shit, GioGio. Are you ok?"

He leaned forward as if to reach out, but then seemed to hesitate. The look of earnest concern on his face twisted at something in Giorno's chest.

"I'm alright," he said again. It came out stronger this time. "How long was I out?"

"About a day," Trish answered. Giorno glanced at her in surprise, noticing for the first time the smudged makeup and deep shadows under her eyes. Mista didn't look much better. He wondered how long they had been sitting there, staying with him.

Memory finally broke through the lingering drowsiness. "Is Abbacchio alright? I mean –" he frowned. "Bucciarati, I guess."

Mista nodded. "He's fine. Still out, I think."

A peal of birdsong drifted through the window. Awkward quiet settled over the room.

"I, uh." Mista shifted as if to stand, his eyes fixed on the floor. "I'll go get you something to eat –"

"Wait."

Mista looked up, startled. Giorno opened his mouth, trying to put his disorganized thoughts into order, but Trish spoke before he could get there.

"No, we'll start." She took a small breath, as if to brace herself, but when she met his eyes her clear blue gaze was sure and unflinching. "We know we really fucked up. On multiple levels. I was expecting you to act weird after..." a faint blush spread over her cheeks. "Uh, after the whole storeroom thing. But I should have realized it wasn't you. Obviously. Because you're one of the most brilliant, driven, uncommon people I know, and no one can replace you."

"We both..." Mista exchanged a momentarily glance with Trish, one Giorno couldn't decipher. "... really care about you. And we're just happy you're ok. If you never speak to either of us again, I'll understand."

"Mista. I'm not going to quit speaking to you." He glanced to Trish. "Either of you."

He could see Mista's shoulders slump ever so slightly in relief.

Giorno took a breath and forced the words out of his mouth. "So... you two are a thing?"

Mista and Trish exchanged another look – but not the one of shared guilt Giorno had expected. He wasn't sure what this one was.

Trish answered slowly. "We're ... not sure about anything right now. Except that we shouldn't have made out in front of you." She winced. "Twice."

There was another pause. Giorno knew this was where he was supposed to tell them not to mind him, that he was happy for them, but he couldn't quite get the words out of his mouth.

"For the record..." Mista bit his lip. Giorno didn't think he'd ever seen him so adorably nervous. "Who were you jealous of?"

The curtains fluttered in the breeze. Giorno could feel both of them waiting. Both of his sweet, absurd, dauntless, unlikely friends, who had spent the last 24 sitting with him until he woke up. Who had clearly been planning out this apology for most of those hours and wondering about the answer to this question for even longer.

He let out a long breath. "Fuck it. The truth is, I feel the same way about both of you."

He wasn't sure what he was expecting. A long, awkward pause, probably. Maybe for someone to ask him to repeat what he had said. Definitely not both of them breaking into smiles. Giorno stared at them, trying to process this turn of events and coming up empty-handed.

"We've been stressing about this for days," Mista explained. His smile was wide and relieved and a little embarrassed, in a happy way. "Ok, weeks for me. Because I've had a huge crush on you basically since I met you."

Giorno blinked at him. "You... what? Really?"

Trish smiled. "And so have I. So..." she leaned across the bed to take Mista's hand, twining their fingers together tightly. Tentatively, she held out her other hand to Giorno. "What do you think? Want to beat this cliché love triangle?"

Giorno took her hand, slim and soft, and then Mista's, rough with burns and calluses. He smiled his first real smile in days. "Hell yes I do."

straight up missed last week's update cause I've been swamped w reading this week, sorry y'all! in any case hope you enjoy some giomistrish fluff (and once again, at the time of this chapter they are all 18). if that's not your jam then no worries, we'll be back to the regularly scheduled bruabba programming for next week's final chapter(!!)

 - Wesley H.