Asphodel

Chapter 3

     After what happened in the woods, something about Mista's and Giorno's relationship changed. They were no longer simply 'acquaintances' or even 'friends', there was something entirely new that was shown in the way they spoke and in their movements. They both loved it, this newness- it was something neither of them had felt before. Mista had previously had hookups, but those were nothing more than flashes that lasted for no longer than a night. Weeks had passed since the Sunday evening, each one better than the last. 

     He had cut contact with both Passione as well as Bruno, feeling bad but also knowing it was necessary to survive at this point. He visited Giorno frequently, stopping by his shop around once a day and having lunch together every Sunday, usually followed by another bike ride. The florist always seemed to be able to make room for him, no matter how busy his schedule was or the amount of customers. Because of this, Mista found himself falling hard for him, and often caught himself wondering about the future. He knew it was too early for this, but he couldn't stop thinking about it- He could change his name, possibly, and escape his old life as a gangster, maybe move somewhere out in the country. Giorno, would be there, of course. Mista knew little of the young florist's personal life, but was guessing there just wasn't that much to learn. He had never seen his parents, a subject that, when brought up, was always diverted by a change of topic. He guessed that Giorno must just live the average, boring life of an everyday sixteen-year-old boy, despite his uniqueness.

     It was a Tuesday, three weeks after their talk by the lake. As Mista his way up the hill he had almost run Giorno over on, a now-common walk he made at least once a week, he hummed a bit. Drinking in the afternoon air he looked as birds chirped around the street, perching on the cobblestone while searching for crumbs.

     ".....Mista?"

     Mista whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice, looking from where it had come from. "Giorno?" he said, confused, scanning the aria. "I hear you, but I don't know where-"

     "I'm up here." Mista raised his gaze to the sound of the voice, quickly spotting Giorno's figure nestled in the crutch of a tree. Although on a normal day he'd be working, his apron was noticeably gone and replaced with a towel which he had wrapped tightly around his shoulders. There was something off about the way he spoke that worried Mista.

     "Are you okay?" He called up to Giorno, walking over to the base of the tree he was seated in. "I can help you down, if you want." when the boy nodded, and Mista pressed the backs of his hands against the tree, creating a makeshift human step stool for him to climb down from.

     Giorno was about to step down onto Mista's palms when a large crash sounded, causing him to whip his head around. Thrown off-balance, he tried to regain his center of gravity, but without a nearby handhold he had nothing to grab. Flailing, he closed his eyes so as not to see the ground rising to meet him until-

     "Gotcha." Giorno could feel the familiar arms around him, holding him steady. The gangster had positioned himself so as to catch him at the last minute. "I thought this might happen."

     Shaken, Giorno could only nod. Ignoring Mista's attempts to put him down, he wrapped his arms around his arms around the boy's neck as he tried to steady his breathing, burying his face in his chest. He wasn't crying, Mista couldn't feel any tears, but something had definitely happened.

     "What's wrong?" He asked gently, lowering himself into the grass, the florist still clinging to him tightly. "I'm guessing it takes more than a tumble to freak you out this much."

     "You shouldn't have to know." Giorno's voice came out muffled, his tone flat. "It's not something other people should have to get involved in."