【jojo five parts】【velvet rice】Deliberately Shortsighted

On the morning when someone knocked her unconscious from behind, Mista was heating milk.

The coffee was gone three days ago, and the first thing Mista saw when he walked into the kitchen was the empty coffee can, the thing with its mouth wide open and no one bothering to cover it.Mista stared at it for a few seconds, as if the jar would suddenly vibrate and fill itself.He slowly dug out the milk from the refrigerator, and reminded himself to remember to buy coffee the next time he went to the supermarket-keep in mind, write a yellow post-it note in his mind, and put it on "change the sheets" Between "return the videotape", there's an 80% chance that it will be submerged under a bunch of shit like "gas the car" in less than an hour, precariously.

The sound of water in the bathroom had stopped a few minutes ago, and now the hum of the microwave was accompanied by Giorno's footsteps.Mista found that Giorno was wearing his own T-shirt, and the size was obviously inappropriate. The man hadn't combed his bangs, his hair was casually brushed back, and he hadn't completely dried it, which made his blond hair look It looks a little brown, like wet sand. From Mista's perspective, a drop of water can just be seen sliding down the wet hair into the wider neckline, and it bleeds on the cotton cloth to make people think about it. .Mista forced himself to go to the cupboard and rummage through the bread, and he would do anything to avert his eyes.

However, Giorno followed up and stood behind him at a very worrying distance, "...Your clothes should be washed, I feel that there are at least three different kinds of jams on the sleeves." The guy was definitely calculated, and Mista was sure of it, because Giorno's breath hit him right on the back of the neck when he spoke.He flinched at the warm air.

"A normal person would say 'thank you for the clothes' and I'd say 'you're welcome, you look good'." Mista moved forward, the microwave dinging just right. "Try not to wake up in the morning and act like an ungrateful little jerk."

"You think so?" Giorno asked, "I look good in my clothes?"

"That's not the point of my words," Mista rolled his eyes. "And, that's just polite talk."

"You just like me." Is this kid, Giorno, imitating him?Mista didn't want to admit that the imitation was quite similar, because it would make the other party's smile look more complacent.

"...someday we're going to have a discussion about how you always feel good about yourself," Mista said with unnecessary effort, placing the glass on the table next to Giorno, milk spilling a few drops onto his face. On the cuffs, well, now he knows why the clothes are always covered with all kinds of strange stains.It really can't be his fault.

Giorno frowned at the cup. "Milk?" There was obvious complaint in his tone.Look, what did Mista say a minute ago?Little bastard who doesn't know how to be grateful.

"It's not bad if you have enough to drink, and you have to grow your body." Seeing Giorno's gesture of reaching for the cup, Mista was very happy that he could win the round.

But Giorno's poised in the blink of an eye, as if Mista's taunts were just crumbs on the dinner table—you know, the kind that happen from time to time and are a little annoying, but nothing important matter.What else can I say, Giorno is Giorno. "I understand that my appearance will always make some people doubt my age, but I didn't expect you to be one of them. After all," Giorno took a piece of bread and tore it slowly, as if tearing Mista "Looking at what happened last night, you didn't feel at all that I was still at the age where I could grow my body." His tone of understatement seemed to be talking about the weather, but the content could be compared with the weather forecast and any other information that can be broadcast on non-payment channels. There's nothing fucking good about the TV show that's on.

Mista choked for a while. "Eat it, little bastard, we're going to be late." He urged with a completely unnecessary kindness, hoping to hide the urge to take the butter knife on the table and stab Giorno or himself in the throat, just To be able to get out of this losing conversation.He didn't blush.Absolutely not.

And Giorno was definitely not snickering.

****

Mista and Giorno's relationship started with a fucking infiltration mission in disguise.At that time, Mista was still working as a policeman in the open and aboveboard, under the homicide department led by Bugarati. His life was not smooth at all, but it was still passable. The investigation into the case of drug kingpin Diablo quickly takes a tragic turn.As for why the homicide team is going to investigate drug dealers, according to Bugarati’s report, the high-level police department and the anti-narcotics department have very consistent caliber: “Bruno (Buggarati imitated the deputy director’s southern accent vividly), look ,somebody died.Whether Diavolo is a drug dealer or a dog,someone dies,he's a suspect,it's up to you.Now get your ass out of my office and get to work .” Mista was stared at by Bugarati for a few seconds before realizing that the last sentence was addressed to him.No wonder there is no southern accent.

After nearly a month of investigation, the team has found nothing except for a few abandoned trading points and a small boss or two - they don't even know what Diablo looks like.The following day, one of their informants died, and Mista's dinner the day before assured that the poor guy died really badly. I almost vomited my stomach out.And then, at the urging of Bugarati (the dude slapped the deputy's table until the deputy's cup shattered on the floor, God bless him), the bureau reluctantly transferred a few people from the narcotics department Come here, one of them was transferred all the way from Naples. According to them, that guy has performed extremely well in the last few assessments. This mission will serve as a stepping stone for his promotion, and the new faces will be very useful for infiltrating investigations. It could not be better.This person who didn't know whether he was lucky or epic was Giorno.This is the whole process of how Mista met Giorno.

All right.Not the whole process.The "disguise and infiltrate mission" may be missed here, so focus on it.

To be honest, Mista didn't really want to recall that mission.In fact, it is not appropriate to call it a task, because a task usually has a task code, support team, PlanB, expense reimbursement, etc. Although things will always go wrong for various reasons, it is better than nothing Strong things, but Mista's "task" only has a sequined camisole, leather pants rubbed with nightclub glitter, a hot back and endorphins.To put it simply, in order to investigate Diablo's identity, Mista sneaked into a theme nightclub and found a rookie named Giorno to inquire about information, but unfortunately the other party just moved to this city, and Mista Star didn't come up with any useful information, and Diablo's whereabouts are still a mystery.By the way, the so-called "theme" of the nightclub is BDSM, Mista can't make a dom even if I think about it with my toes (it has nothing to do with temperament, it's a matter of experience, thank you), and Giorno is surprisingly good at whipping , which somewhat explains why there are fiery backs and endorphins in the keywords of the task.Anyway, that fake infiltrate was fucked up.Please excuse Mista's language.But seriously, when you get whipped in the back by a stranger you've only met half an hour ago and cry and yell like a madman, what choice do you have other than the adjective "fucking"?

The next day, Mista was informed by his superiors that he was going to perform an undercover mission (the kind with codes this time), and the new drug department boy would be his partner.Guess who is that?Anyway, Mista couldn't control his swearing.

"Fuck," he hung up the other party's phone, circling in circles in the office irritablely.

"What's wrong?" Trish asked in the same group.

Mista shook his head, his face still very ugly.Half of him wanted to throw the phone through the window, and half of him thought he could just jump.

Bugarati picked up the car keys and motioned for Mista to follow. "Hurry up, we have to be at the meeting place in half an hour."

"Like I have other options." Mista muttered and followed.

On the way to meet Giorno, Mista remained unusually quiet, not that he was usually noisy—he was always ranked behind Naranja on the list of noise makers in the group, but far surpassed Fugo, who disdains to talk to people with an IQ gap of more than 50, and Apache, who is always melancholy.So this silence seems somewhat strange.At least it was so strange that Bucgarati felt that something was wrong, because the man had turned his head and looked at him three times in the past 5 minutes, and his expression became more and more hesitant to speak.

"What?" Mista said impatiently when Bugarati turned his head to look at him again. "Can't you concentrate on driving?"

Buccarati turned his eyes back to the front, and said hesitantly: "Mista, I can feel that you are... anxious. You are a competent police officer, and you always rush to the front in times of danger. It's just that this kind of mission always It makes people feel anxious, which is a normal reaction. If you have something to think-"

"No, I'm fine, great." Mista interrupted him, pretending that he hadn't been shaking his legs wildly in the past few minutes, thought for a while and added: "I'm just a little worried about the new guy. Undercover Assignment? No problem. But I don't feel comfortable being paired with someone I don't know." He shrugged. "It's a trust issue."

"I'm thinking about that too," Bugarati frowned. "But it implies that this is the best resource they can provide." He slammed the steering wheel hard, "These bastards are full of lies."

"I'd be really surprised when they're gone," Mista snorted. "Can't I partner with my own people? Fugo? Apache?"

"The charge of assaulting the suspect in Fugo's last interrogation has not been dismissed. He is still with me with a gun. Apache is better at intelligence work."

"What about Trish?... Don't look at me like that, you've seen that girl's biceps too! Anyway, she must be able to protect herself." Maybe she can protect me.Mista swallowed those words.

Bugarati continued to give him that patient look you get when your five-year-old brother insists that spiders are edible and plans to lick them.Mista compromised.Mostly because he genuinely felt that Bugarati had to watch the road, he didn't want to die from being rear-ended by a car.

"Okay okay," he murmured. "You are the boss, you have the final say."

"Thanks for the reminder," Buccarati snorted sarcastically. "The people in the anti-narcotics department said that the kid is quite clever. But you still have to be more careful," he parked the car downstairs at the hotel where he agreed to meet, and looked at Mista seriously: "If you find that he has If something is wrong, withdraw immediately. I will set up a separate contact line for you, and only you will know."

Mista raised an eyebrow. "Boss, I think your trust problem is much more serious than mine. Let me make sure again, we are just looking for information, right? Why do I feel like I am going to infiltrate the other party and ambush in Diablo left and right hands."

"Because Diablo is dangerous," Buccarati snapped. "This man is cunning, patient, and has a group of men who can be compared to militants. We cannot take our guard lightly."

Mista remembered the hapless informant.Bucciarati is right, Diablo is by no means an ordinary suspect, because the latter will kill people "ordinarily"-at most, put on an execution pose or let the victim lack some organs to show deterrence.But like Diablo, patiently chopping people into literal pieces and wrapping them up like a fucking Christmas present at the door of the police station, the creativity and execution alone can be seen This man's brain is absolutely out of order.In addition to dealing with this extremely dangerous lunatic, Mista also had to worry about how to partner with someone who had played BDSM with him to investigate the case.Seriously, is there anything more surreal than that?

****

They walked into the hotel, skipped the receptionist at the front desk who had been playing with his mobile phone with his head down, and went straight to the agreed room.Bugarati knocked rhythmically on the door a few times, and after a while his cell phone rang, it seemed to be a text message, he glanced at it and deleted it, then took out a room card from his pocket , swipe to open the door.Mista took a deep breath and followed.The curtains in the room are closed, and the overhead light is a bit dim, but it's enough to make people see what the interior looks like: tacky printed wallpaper, wardrobe, single bed, and a table and chairs opposite the bed - if you ignore the blond man standing by the window, This is an ordinary single room.

The blond man didn't move or speak, just looked at them quietly.

Bugara reported a series of numbers and asked, "Officer Chobana?"

"Call me Giorno," the blond youth walked across the room, holding out his hand, "Nice to meet you, Sergeant Bugarati." Then he turned to Mista. "...and my new partner, Police Officer Gedo Mista."

Mista shook his hand mechanically.Giorno was extremely polite from the gesture of shaking hands to his expression and tone, and he couldn't fault it.Mista was eager to know how the other party did it, and he spent most of his energy just controlling himself not to run away.Because it's just... so embarrassing.It's even more embarrassing than Mista treating Naranja as a girl and trying to ask her out when he first joined the job.

Bugarati took out two file bags and handed them to the two respectively. "These are the information we have so far. The location of this mission is a club."

Mista glanced over.Quest code, very good (he felt relieved for a while); a few pages of confession, the part with yellow highlighter marked Diablo's movements, this guy seems to be a frequent visitor to the club; followed by the club's information, including the establishment time, Building construction drawings, several handover experiences, information about the boss and several employees.There is a line of words at the bottom of the data. "Remarks: The theme of the club—" He squinted his eyes to identify it, "—Sadomasochism culture."

……What?

"You must be joking."

“I never show a sense of humor at work,” Bugarati said dryly, giving him a “shut up and be professional” look.Obviously the team leader didn't want to embarrass the homicide department in front of outsiders.

"But, but this is, but it says—" Mista couldn't even say a whole sentence.

"Mista," Buccarati snapped.Mista shut her mouth immediately.Bugarati paused, sighed, and looked at him seriously: "As an experienced police officer, you understand what these materials mean, which means that this may be all we can give you, and the truth is The situation is likely to be much worse. Bloodshed, or even casualties, etc. will not be written on these papers, but they can happen. So, Mista, and Giorno, you too," he pointed at Giorno Nodding his head, "If any of you feel that there is a problem—any problem, bring it up now, and we can think of a way."

question?The corner of Mista's mouth twitched.Hell, of course he has problems!Like why does he have to be paired with Giorno and why can't Diablo just be a little generic what the hell is wrong with this club theme guy and how the fuck did this all happen to him.

Tons of questions and a lot of swear words came up at the same time, and the result was that Mista opened his mouth, but only let out a strange creaking sound as if his throat was strangled.Giorno looked over at the right time, and Mista found that the kid's eyes were full of pure doubts, and there was polite concern on his face, as if he really didn't know why Mista would overreact.Fuck Giorno.

"...no problem," he replied darkly, barely finding his voice. "No problem at all."

Bugarati raised an eyebrow.Mista glared at him.Authority hierarchy is not the most important thing at the moment.

"Okay," Bugarati cast a warning glance at him, paused, "Then, your direct contact is me," he told them the contact information and code, "except for reporting the situation on time In addition, if you have any problems that you can't solve by yourself, please contact me directly."

Mista smirked, "Yeah, what about our clothes—you know, I don't think the clothes in my closet are that suitable given the theme of the club. Of course, Giorno, I don't know." He swore he didn't mean it.

"Mista," Bugarati was obviously not happy with his tone of finding fault, "I'm talking about the key issues of personal safety and mission completion."

"Hey boss, that's definitely the key issue, okay? We can't even get in the fucking door without the right clothes! And I don't and don't want to figure it out myself."

He and Bugarati glared at each other for a while, and the latter backed down first. "Okay, okay," the captain pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, "You don't have to worry about the clothes, I'll let Trixie arrange it."

"That's good—what? Who were you talking about? Trish? No, no, no, no Trish! No Trish!"

"Why?" Bucciarati was taken aback by his scream.

Mista pursed her lips, not knowing how to explain. "Just... not so good from a security standpoint? I think, uh, not so good anyway," he stumbled.

"Terry Xiu is also on the mission, don't worry, she won't appear at the target location, she will be responsible for backup support for you this time." Bugarati assured him, after thinking for a while, he added: "But if you If you feel uncomfortable, I can arrange it."

"No! You can't!" Mista blurted out.Bugarati folded his arms, and the expression on his face clearly showed that the man's patience was running out.Mista rubbed his face in frustration. Whether it was due to the confidentiality of the mission or his own dignity, he didn't want more people to get involved in this matter.Trish has already done it once anyway, he thought comfortingly. "...well, just Trish," he sighed.

Buccarati looked at Giorno. "I have no problem," the latter shook his head.

"Very good. Do you have any questions?" After seeing the two shaking their heads, the team leader continued to make arrangements: "Then, start preparing for the rest of the day, and I will ask Trixie to come and find you during the lunch break. You can try it out tonight. Stay in touch, I'm here 24/7."

"Aren't I going back with you?" Mista asked in surprise.He was about to leave, but was nailed in place by Bugarati's words.

"No, I'll deal with your leave. You two can use this time to think about your next move."

The last thing Mista wants to do right now is stay with Giorno. "You too?" he asked Buccarati hopefully.

The captain rolled his eyes uncontrollably. "Of course not, Mista! Unless I have a clone who can handle your leave of absence at the office while talking to you."

"So you mean it's just me and Giorno? Just the two of us?" Mista opened his mouth wide again, like a silly fish.

This time, Bugarati didn't even bother to stare at him. He must have felt that the homicide department would never be able to stand up in front of the anti-narcotics department for the rest of his life.The man packed up his things and left in a hurry.

The room fell silent for an instant.Mista didn't know what he should do, he stared at a mildew spot on the wall, he had the illusion that the thing was slowly getting bigger, but it was obviously necessary to accept the fact that he and Giorno were in the same room It doesn't help.Well, Mista made up his mind, it wasn't a big deal, he could handle this.Man, he told himself, and took a deep breath, breaking the awkwardness: "I think we—"

"Then—" Giorno also spoke at the same time.The moment they realized it, the two of them stopped talking at the same time.It was like throwing a pebble into a bowl filled with water, and the room soon became quiet again, and the awkward atmosphere was even stronger than before.Terrible.

"Sorry, what did you want to say just now?" Giorno spoke first.

Mista refuses to take this as a basis for which of the two people is more kind, because the next sentence of a normal person will be this, but anyway, this is an opportunity to start a normal conversation.Mista cleared his throat, "I want to say, should we study the mission information again or get to know each other or something?" God testified, he didn't want to know Giorno or be understood by Giorno at all. It's just—"In order to prevent cheating and the like, considering that we have to pretend to be...partners." He chose the words carefully, and at the same time refused to look at Giorno, but he could still feel Giorno's gaze on him .

"I thought we were partners?" Giorno slightly raised the corners of his mouth, with a half-smile. "It's written in the task schedule."

"I'm not talking about that partner!" Mista glared at him angrily, "Don't play dumb, you know what I'm talking about."

Giorno stared into his eyes for a long time, and then his lips slowly made an "oh" shape. "Okay," he said.This time he was really smiling.

"Okay?" Mista repeated suspiciously. "That's all you wanted to say? Okay?"

"if not?"

"Don't you feel awkward at all?" Mista couldn't bear it anymore, he paced back and forth anxiously in the small room. "We just met yesterday, and today we were told to go on a mission together, and it's another S. Goddamn.M club! I know it could be purely coincidental, but I'm about to freak out, okay? And you're acting like Accepting it like nothing happened—oh yeah, because you're not the crazy guy breaking down and crying and screaming in front of a bunch of strangers."

"Appropriate emotional venting is conducive to the construction of a healthy mind. In addition, I am also surprised about the coincidence you mentioned, but this is a task assigned by the superior, and my duty is to complete it," Giorno said seriously. "If you feel uncomfortable partnering with me it's because of embarrassment—"

"—I feel uncomfortable because I don't trust you," Mista interrupted, crossing his arms. "I don't feel comfortable giving my back to someone I don't trust. God, I hardly know you." And to make matters worse, Giorno knows Mista's bottom line.Well, part of the story.But at least the concept of "Guido Mista has a worrisome lifestyle and emotional management problems" was accurately conveyed.

Giorno seemed a little surprised. "I thought we were pretty familiar."

Mista snorted. "I don't want to comment on your social philosophies, but I'm sorry, having a drink together is not a 'very familiar' in my dictionary, and I don't know your pet's name or your favorite food—" He saw Giorno seemed to be about to say something, so he immediately added: "——this is just an analogy, not that I really want to know what you like to eat."

What the hell kind of explanation is this?Why did he explain to Giorno?And why does he sound like a bloody dialogue in a third-rate gay novel?Mista blushed belatedly, if the next second Giorno ignores his wishes and tells him what he likes to eat according to the routine of third-rate gay novels, then Mista guarantees that there will be a first-class crime novel on the scene Some of the plots in the movie are not suitable for imitation.

Giorno raised his eyebrows, seeming a little amused. "if you--"

"No!" Mista yelled, "I said I don't want to know!"

Giorno raised his hands in a calm gesture, as if Mista would suddenly explode. "I just wanted to say, if you don't mind, I'll sit on the bed and you can sit on the chair." He pointed to the only chair in the room.

"What chair?" Mista turned around in a daze, and blushed even more after realizing what Giorno meant. "I don't mind, why should I?" He muttered, pulling the chair over and sitting as far away from Giorno as possible.Mista was angry with himself, feeling like a fool, let Giorno play around, and was also angry with Giorno.Giorno is the starting point of all disasters.Mista desperately recalled the rhetoric class he didn't take in his student days. Giorno is the creator of pain, the guide of tragedy, the son of Satan, the source of disaster, and——

Then Giorno interrupted his contemplation. "I don't actually know your favorite food or the name of your pet, if that makes you feel better," the man said.

"Oh shut up."

——a jerk, Mista concluded.He buried his face deeper into the folder, as if erecting a small mental barrier, completely blocking the blond man from sight.Fuck Giorno.

This is what Trish saw when he entered the door.

"What is this, a couples consultation site?" She joked.Giorno greeted her with a smile, while Mista tried hard not to yell at her.Because number one, it wasn't Trish's fault, it was just a joke, and she didn't know anything about Mista and Giorno's relationship, God bless the poor girl; If he has left her, then it is predictable that when she chooses clothes for him later, she must--

Oh oh oh no no no no no no!She's going to pick out clothes for him again!Mista realized suddenly with horror.Getting along with Giorno just now consumed most of his attention, so that Mista completely forgot that there was still this matter waiting for him.The last two trip to the clothing store made Mista feel like she was raped from the inside out (mentally, he meant) and by God Mista would rather walk in front of Diablo with nothing One-on-one with the opponent, and I don't want to be taken by Trish to buy clothes for "certain occasions".

He was visibly weakened.But the two people who were chatting happily in the room did not notice that Giorno and Trixie seemed to hit it off. Giorno praised Trixie's clothing taste (she was wearing plain clothes at the moment), and Trixie He was surprised that Giorno recognized Moschino's new season's products. The two quickly reached an agreement on aesthetics, which also means...

"...It means that our shopping trip will be very relaxed and enjoyable later, right, Mista?" Trixie turned his head and found that the person being questioned was still sitting stiffly in place. "Hey," she walked over, touched Mista's shoulder, and asked with concern, "What's the matter? Are you uncomfortable?"

Mista shook his head and replied weakly: "It's nothing, it's just...anxiety. This kind of task always makes people feel anxious. This is a normal reaction, you know."

"Oh, poor Mista," said the girl, giving him a hug.Before Mista could feel the soft chest of the other party, Trixie said happily: "I will pick out some clothes for you later, and pick out a few more to make you happy."

Trish, Trish is the starting point of all disasters, the creator of pain, the son of Satan, the source of disasters... Mista covered her face and let out a vague sob.Trixie probably took this mistake as a thank you, she clapped her hands and urged them to pack up and go.And Giorno...

Although Mista didn't see it, he bet that Giorno must be laughing.