April 6

Fugo guarded Giorno’s door to the office, watching ever so diligently. Nothing much was happening except he could hear Giorno rapidly tapping the keyboard. A few moments later, a smiling Mista walked into the hallways, carrying a bottle of champagne and two glasses. He reached for the doorknob while also holding the bottle.

The golden blond tilted his head. “What’s that for?”

“Oh, you don’t know? Wait, of course, you don’t know. You weren’t there. Anyway, excuse me!” Mista opened the door.

Curious, Fugo went in.

Giorno typed away, focused on his work.

“Giorno, Giorno, come on!” Mista tried to grab the boss’s attention, and it worked.

Bemused, the blond looked at the gunslinger. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t you know what day it is?” Mista responded.

“It’s April 6.”

“And? Come on. I know you got this, boss!”

Giorno’s eyes widened, and he suddenly realized it. “Ah, Mista, I didn’t know it was your birthday! I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

The gunslinger’s wide smile disappeared. “Ouch, man. You don’t know my birthday?”

“Hey, boss,” Fugo butted in, “Mista’s birthday is on the third of December.”

“That’s not the point!” Mista said. “It’s when we defeated the boss! But seriously, boss, I even invited you to my birthday. You should’ve remembered.”

Fugo looked away and removed himself from the room, closing the door quietly on the way. From there, he could hear everything.

“I’m sorry, Mista,” Giorno said. Fugo heard him get out of his seat. “I guess I should take a break from what I’m doing.”

Fugo heard something get placed on a table, possibly the glasses and bottle.

“Wait, there’s only two,” Giorno noted. “What about Fugo?”

Giorno opened the door, causing Fugo to turn his head. They stared at each.

Fugo looked at him for a few seconds before looking away, and then the boss grabbed his hands and pulled him into the office.

“Mista, fetch a glass for Fugo,” he demanded.

“But he—fine! I’ll be right back!” Mista ran out of the room.

“Giorno?” Fugo looked at him, confused. “Why did you do that?”

“You’re part of the gang.”

The golden blond looked away from him. “But I abandoned you!”

“You’re here now. That counts.” The boss hugged him. “Panna…” he whispered.

Fugo hugged him back, cheeks flushed. He felt warm. “Giogio…”

They were inches away from kissing.

“Guys, I’m back!” Mista barged in. “I—oh!”

Fugo and the boss quickly got away from each other. Both of their cheeks flushed.

Mista placed the glass on the desk. “I’ll give you some time alone. Sorry.” He quickly left the room.