Your Words Are Honey [Mista x Giorno] 🔫🐞

Pollen

With four fully equipped rooms, the house proved to have way more commodities than they ever thought they needed. It wasn't like the mansion, with things that could be changed depending on who you asked; this house was tailored to perfection and that's how Giorno immediately realized this was the house Bruno and Leone were supposed to live in when the time came. He heard about it many times but he never got the chance to even suggested to visit. It had everything they wanted, the luxury he imagined Bruno wanted to bask Leone in and the fact that he was living in it before Leone did was a satisfaction that no one would take away from him.

It had many features that he adored but he was most interested in the small wine cellar; and the very generous and wide library that held Abbacchio's full music collection, Bruno's favorite books, and even a piano that rested right beside a big and decorated window that led to the garden. At the risk of getting killed by Abbachio when they returned, Giorno did not hold back and used the room as he pleased. But he couldn't stay there for too long for it was hard to lose yourself in a room made for someone else, especially when he felt as alone as he did. He would have to get used to empty mornings and dreadful sleep, even the lack of Mista's laugh. Giorno was still waiting to hear him speak, for his voice to hit the walls of the house until it reached him. But how? And why? His broken facade wouldn't have been able to deal with it anyway. So he let go slowly as he crept through Abbacchio's records, reading the introductions to a few books before putting them away and doing the same thing all over again.

Hours that passed by soon turned into days, the first days concluding in a flash.

Fugo and Giorno slept in different rooms, of course. But still, Fugo insisted on sleeping on the same floor. "It will do you good" Fugo had said, explaining his reasoning. "So you won't think you're alone." and he was right, for his nights were anything but peaceful. He even heard the sound of a single gunshot in the early hours of the morning of the second day. Probably someone who wanted to sneak in the property. The sound was sharp, made to be silenced in a few seconds. It worked, but Giorno still took it with him to his dreams for when he woke up, he was covered in sweat.

Sleepless nights indeed.

Giorno didn't like being this miserable, therefore he took time off from his own head to heal as a strategy and soon enough, he eventually managed to get some sleep. It was a night filled with the darkness of the sky, no dreams, but that wasn't bad. Giorno wanted to dream with Mista when the time was right, when he got further from the edge. And until then, nothing else but his memories would have had to suffice.

A few days passed and his morning routines stabilized. Even though Fugo would say that finally they wouldn't have to deal with Mista's stupid questions at breakfast, Giorno found himself missing them. He missed all of it. His laugh, the way his eyebrows arched at the sight of him and even his very characteristic smell. He was used to missing him, but not like this. It was as if a piece of him was waiting for him in the distance. This was how hearts were supposed to work.

Mista got him good, in every sense of the word.

That evening, after a very quiet breakfast, Giorno went to the garden to spend the first hours of the morning under the glory of the sun, who was anything but shy, and he took his time to grow as many flowers as he pleased. Pink and red camellias, primroses and forget-me-nots grew as he commanded and the garden became his canvas. He pranced towards the leaves of the jealous trees, and as he did, their color became lively and bright. Even the grass itself looked like the sea bed, pristine and ready to be drawn into the sea.

Giorno snapped out of his own thoughts to look back inside. Fugo was in front of the studio window, talking on the phone. He knew he was there but still refused to make eye contact. It was expected though as he was talking to Bruno and they were probably talking about him. He wondered how their conversation went. Possibly something along the lines of recovery, but maybe something about Mista could slip in there as well. He turned around, tried to not think much about it, and concentrated on the weather. If Fugo needed him, he would be called. There was no question about it.