【jojo five parts】【velvet rice】Deliberately Shortsighted

Chapter 7Chapter07: Reverse

According to the agreement, Mista and Giorno will watch a movie together today, but after a series of changes last night, neither of them mentioned it until they parted.But this matter still ran into Mista's head uninvited.

After unexpectedly waking up early, Mista tried to fall asleep again to no avail, so she got up and ran in the morning resignedly.He absently ran twice around the block and turned into the coffee shop.

"Why didn't that handsome guy come with you?" the cashier girl asked.

Mista glared at her. "Why did he come with me?"

"Why not?" the girl shrugged. "You two look like a good match."

"No! Not at all! Damn it," Mista yelled, like a cat whose tail has been trampled on.The girl hurriedly hissed at him.He immediately lowered his volume, but still resentfully said, "...you should get a pair of glasses, ma'am."

"Ma'am?" The girl raised her eyebrows. "No 'Bella' today?"

"No Bella." Mista said firmly, "And I'm not dating that guy either."

"Okay." The girl dropped a bag of crumpled donuts in front of him. "No Bella, no date, this is your donut without any toppings, take it and thank you." After she finished speaking, she turned and walked to the back kitchen, shielding Mista's resentful eyes from the back of her head.

Are these women crazy or what?First Trish, now any random waitress.Why does everyone think he and Giorno are a couple?Mista trudged home, complaining all the way.After taking a shower, he opened the closet, looked at a row of clothes repeatedly, hesitated for a long time, and finally picked out a dark shirt that was rarely worn out.When reaching for it, Mista suddenly caught a glimpse of the red marks on his arm, and the next second he withdrew his hand suddenly, as if he had been scalded.He stared at his hand, his face uncertain, as if the hand had suddenly betrayed him.Finally he grabbed a T-shirt and put it on, and slammed the closet door behind him.

Mista wandered around the living room twice aimlessly, and then remembered that she hadn't had breakfast yet.The donuts were already cold, and his hands were stained with wet syrup and oil, so he lost his appetite.He took two bites and threw it away before remembering he forgot to make coffee.To make matters worse, when he was stupidly standing in front of the closet picking out clothes, the beauty anchor had already finished broadcasting today's weather, and now there were only a few middle-aged housewives on the radio arguing about the brand of the vacuum cleaner.

Giorno messed up his whole life.

Mista slumped down on the sofa angrily.It's all Giorno's fault, he thought, when that guy came, he had to settle the score with him.No, no, he shouldn't want him to come.He definitely wasn't thinking of him coming.It's definitely not dating either.It's just two people going to the movies together.And some coke and popcorn.And maybe a meal.And when I got home—no, no no no no.No.It's the movies, Mista warned himself, only movies.Well, you can have Coke and popcorn, this is within the safe range.What about a meal?A meal doesn't sound too dangerous...

Holy Mary, can you just stop thinking about it.

After successfully messing up his mind, Mista scratched his hair indiscriminately, turned on the TV and tuned channels aimlessly. When he found out, he had pressed all the channels for two rounds, but there was no Know what you have seen.

That's not right, Mista thought.He jumped up, casually grabbed a coat and put it on, planning to go out for a walk, anywhere.He doesn't need, and shouldn't, to be on edge all day with an undecided date.He strode to the door, and stopped when he reached out to push the door.After hesitating for a long time, he cursed, turned back to the living room and threw himself onto the sofa.He went through what he wanted to say carefully in his mind, and then dialed the inside line that Bugarati had left for him.

"I'm fine," Mista said as soon as the call got through, "I just want to ask you something."

After a while, Bugarati replied.There was some noise on the phone, as if he was on the street. "Well," he asked vaguely, "what's the matter?"

Mista asked in a casual tone as much as possible: "That kid—the one with the blond hair, you know who I'm talking about, is he with you?"

"No." Bugarati immediately asked, "What? Did something happen?"

"It's okay, I'm just asking—no, boss, I'm really okay." Mista paused, "I just... just asked him for something, I thought he was with you."

"I remember you had his phone?"

Can't argue.The thinking is really sharp, Bugarati. "Well. Yes. I remembered. Then I'll hang up first."

"Mista," Mista can see Bugarati frowning through the phone, "I didn't give you this number for you to talk about these things. I was very worried when the phone rang, and I still need to Only dare to pick it up on the street to avoid being eavesdropped."

"Okay, boss, sorry," Mista muttered, "not next time."

Bugarati paused, as if he wanted to say something, but finally swallowed it back.Finally, he warned: "...If you have anything to discuss with Giorno. Don't be reckless. Be careful."

"You too, boss." Mista hung up the phone.He sat for a while, picked up the receiver again, and just pressed two numbers, his hand stopped in the air, he stared at the number key and couldn't press it.After a while, a busy tone came from the phone with a wrong number. He seemed to be awakened, and seemed very confused, and finally put the phone down.Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Mista grabbed the key and went out.

There was a small park near the block where the apartment was located. Several boys were playing football. Mista sat on the bench and watched for a while, and gave them some advice, but when the boys clamored for him to do some fancy tricks Mista refused at the time of the ball.Next time, he said, patting their heads.While wandering the streets, he also found a second-hand military store.He secretly wrote down the address, intending to buy back the good-looking gun holster in the window after the mission was over.As he passed the movie theater, he stopped for a moment to glance at the posters, and eventually walked away.

Lunch is a simple pizza dumpling and a small cup of after-dinner coffee. He packed the leftover pie crust into a paper bag and walked to the nearby square. Three young people were playing songs, one was playing drums and the other was playing saxophone , the one in the middle hugged a guitar, Mista threw a few coins into the piano box in front of this strange combination, and then sat down on a sunny spot on the steps of the square. Take out the slightly cold pizza, tear it into small pieces, and throw it to the chubby seagulls who are walking around.Several women dressed as tourists laughed and passed by, and Mista watched them throw coins into the wishing well in the square.That's fake, he shouted at them, and children believed it.

The female tourists turned their heads, looking offended, and when they saw him clearly, they all slowed down.So what is true?one of the girls asked in broken Italian.

Mista grinned lazily while leaning on the steps.Give me a coin and I'll tell you, he said.

All right.After hesitating, the girl said.I was going to throw it in the pool anyway.She walked up to Mista, stretched out her hand, and there was a coin in her palm.

Mista stretched out his hand and slowly closed the girl's fingers into the palm of his hand, letting her hold the coin, then turned her hand, leaned forward and gently kissed the back of the girl's hand.Your beauty is real, he said with a smile, Bella.

The girl's face turned red visibly.She turned and ran back quickly as the other girls giggled and shoved her.Mista sat on the steps and watched.After a while, she walked back slowly.Her face became redder, and she asked him, you... We just came to this city for a tour, and we still need a tour guide.Can you be our tour guide?

Mista straightened up, and before she could speak, the girl quickly added, if it's nothing, I mean, if you're not waiting for someone.

Mista narrowed her eyes.Against the sun, he noticed that the girl's blonde hair was shining in the afternoon sun.He leaned back on the steps.I'm honored, he heard himself say, but honey, I just made an investment in those young musicians and it hasn't paid off yet.

The corners of the girl's mouth dropped in disappointment, but soon raised again.Well then, she said with a smile, I wish you a speedy recovery.

I always make money without losing money, Mista said with a grin, and I wish you and your companions a good time, you will marvel at the beauty of this city, and this city will also fall for you, Bella.

He no longer looked at the backs of the girls walking away, threw the last piece of bread to the seagull, and patted the crumbs on his hands.Seeing that there was no more food, the seagulls uttered a few dissatisfaction and complaints like strange laughter, flapped their wings, and swayed away.Mista took out his sunglasses and put them on. Accompanied by the soft music, he raised his head and dozed off in the warm afternoon sun.He didn't return home until evening when the sun was setting and the breeze was picking up.

And Giorno never came.

There was no sign of anyone entering the home, nor were there any phone messages.There was no news about Giorno, and it was as if the world had evaporated.Mista hummed, cut some sausage and cheese, got another glass of red wine, grabbed the video tape and stuffed it into the machine, and climbed onto the sofa.His night finally returned to familiarity.

It was like his little struggle.Stubborn and secretive.It's like a tug of war, with his common sense at one end, Giorno at the other end, and himself in the middle. The common sense side has a natural attraction. He knows that he will be complete when he goes there, but he also enjoys facing the blond man. Occasionally leaning, there is a hazy point in my heart, I hope that I will win, but I don't want Giorno to lose.

At two o'clock in the morning, Mista was awakened by a faint knock on the door.He took out the pistol under the pillow, tiptoed to the door, and looked out through the door mirror.Giorno was the only one outside.This confused Mista.

"Damn it, do you know what time it is?" he said angrily, putting down his gun, and unlocking the door.

The moment he opened the door, Giorno almost fell on top of him.Mista staggered when she was bumped, hugged the man subconsciously, and took half a step back before standing still.

"What's the matter—" The hands holding Giorno were slippery, and Mista knew it was blood without even looking, and his curse was stuck in his throat.

"Mista," Giorno's voice was very weak, "go in first."

Mista helped Giorno to the wall, let him lean against the wall, then picked up the pistol, and looked out the door cautiously.The blood made his hands slip, and he had to hold the gun tightly.

"It's all right," Giorno seemed unable to stand, but kept sliding against the wall, as if he would faint at any moment, "It's all settled, there is no threat."

Mista locked the door behind him, stepped forward to help Giorno up, and at a glance, the man seemed to have crawled out of a murder scene. There were many wounds on his body, which looked deep and were still dripping out. Blood, and this is only the visible part.His face was ghastly pale.

"Hang on," Mista said, "I'll call the ambulance right away."

Giorno grabbed his arm.The strange thing is that even with such an injury, the man's grip is still difficult to break free easily. "No," he said, "you don't need to go to the hospital. Just bandage me."

"Are you crazy?" Mista's eyes widened, and then he said angrily: "You need stitches, blood transfusions, and fucking checks! Oh yes, you have to check if you hurt your head, because anyone with Nobody in their head thinks these wounds can be fixed with a goddamn 'bandage'. Do you think you're in a movie? Get stabbed and stapled and you're alive and kicking?"

Giorno coughed a few times, and more blood gushed out from the wound.Mista quickly stretched out his hand to press the wound. "It's all flesh and blood wounds. Just bandage them after disinfection. At most, you can sew a few stitches. You can handle this, Mista. It's too much noise to go to the hospital. We don't need to pay attention." The man smiled weakly, " Let me tell you another secret, I always get better soon. Don't worry, Mista, nothing will happen."

"Okay soon?" Mista couldn't move him, finally snorted, and supported Giorno to go to the bathroom. "Is this some supernatural power? Who do you think you are, Superman?"

Giorno gasped in pain. "I'd say I have a bit of a personality bangs too, but I'm not thinking about dyeing my hair." He pauses, "It's not a psychic thing either, it's just that I find myself healing faster than other people. I'm guessing it's some kind of gene above reasons."

"Oh," Mista sarcastically said, "I thought your special ability was to be beaten like a piece of shit and then fell at someone's door."

"Pay attention to the language Mista, I was cut a few times by the knife, but I am not deaf."

"Oh, that's such a pity." Mista moved a stool for Giorno to sit down, and then dug out the first aid kit.He picked up the scissors, and Giorno's blood soaked the shirt, and some fabric stuck to the wound. "Be patient, it will hurt."

Giorno nodded. "It's okay. Let's do it." He bit his index finger knuckles, and when Mista tore off his clothes, he didn't make a sound, but his body trembled slightly.

"Fuck, this can't be done." Only then did Mista see how many wounds Giorno had on his body. There were knife wounds and lacerations of different depths all over the skin, and the entire shoulder and elbow joints were covered with abrasions. , has been bruised and bruised, looking terrible.The only good thing is that he was not shot, otherwise he would have to find a way to get the bullet.As the clothes were peeled off, blood gushed out from the wound, instantly soaking through the gauze that Mista pressed on. "Damn it, the wound is too deep, I'm afraid I can't stop it, you have to go to the hospital."

Giorno stretched out his hand to press the gauze, his cold fingers made Mista shudder. "I'll press it myself, you sterilize first."

"I told you, you have to go to the hospital. I can't handle this injury. You're bleeding." Mista hammered down the pool with a bang. "Didn't you hear?"

"You didn't hear it," Giorno said coldly, meeting his stare. "I said, I don't need to go to the hospital. I'm not talking to you, Mista, this is an order. Don't make me repeat it."

The man's eyes were like basins of ice water.Mista was overwhelmed by that look, and his heart went cold piece by piece. "You're going to die," he clenched his fists and squeezed the words dryly through his teeth.

"I won't," Giorno said. "Because you can handle this. I trust you, Mista."

Mista looked into his eyes, the blood flowed from Giorno's wound and dripped onto Mista's finger, it was warm.Mista didn't speak anymore, lowered his head, rummaged through the first aid kit to find the medicine, and began to disinfect the wound.Some shallow wounds no longer bleed, while deep ones need stitches. The police force has similar training, and he himself has been stitched a lot in the infirmary, but for stitching wounds for others, Mi Star doesn't have much experience.Holding the gun all the year round made his hand very stable, and Giorno's silence also gave Mista a somewhat illusion, as if the needle and thread were not piercing flesh and blood, which was in his interest, and when he didn't think about anything, he could Faster and more stable.The whole process went surprisingly smoothly.After the suturing was completed, Mista wrapped gauze around the wound, and after confirming that there was no large area of ​​blood oozing out, he continued to deal with the next one.

During the whole process, Giorno didn't say a word.The man kept biting his knuckles, Mista caught a glimpse of blood oozing there, clicked his tongue, and accelerated the speed of his hands. "Call out if it hurts. Please don't add to my workload. Just dealing with you is enough for me."

Giorno put down his hand, and Mista mercilessly took an alcohol cotton pad and pressed it hard against the bleeding teeth marks, Giorno flinched in pain. "You can... be a little gentle, Mista. You will scare the patients away."

"Really, I thought our first goal was to make sure you don't hang up right away."

Giorno sighed, his facial features still wrinkled from the pain. "Sorry. I didn't expect this to happen, but believe me, it's a lucky outcome for me."

"Lucky?" Mista looked at him in disbelief. "God, Giorno, you're sitting in my bathroom bled to the point of fucking dry, and you call it 'lucky'? Is there something wrong with that word! What the hell are you doing? To make it like this?"

"I met Risut," Giorno said.

Mista's hand stopped. "And then?" he heard himself ask.

"Then we talked and found out that we have a little disagreement on some things," Giorno shrugged, but gasped in pain because of the wound.He slowed down, and continued: "...and I guess he didn't like me very much, so we had a fight."

"There was a fight?" Mista repeated mechanically, his face darkening. "So, you went to find that guy yourself. You should call me."

"I also met him by chance, I didn't have time to inform you, sorry." Giorno explained.

Mista sneered. "Hey guy, I thought I was the one of the two of us who would go straight up. Don't you like to plan before acting."

"Maybe," Giorno said, "so..."

Halfway through the man's speech, his voice faded away.Mista thought he had passed out, so he hurried to look, only to find that Giorno seemed to be distracted.Mista doesn't know what's wrong with him, anyway, it's not a good sign. "Hello, Giorno," he called to him, "how are you?"

"Huh?" Giorno seemed to have just recovered, "I'm fine." He breathed a sigh of relief, and continued: "I tentatively asked Lisout, he is indeed the actual manager of the club, and he There is a boss behind the back, but I don't know what the relationship between that guy and Diablo is. When I asked him further, he was already alert. Then he found out that I was following, and we fought. But don't worry, He won't find it here, it's all settled."

"If you ask me, it's more like you've been settled by someone rather than the other party," Mista said sarcastically, pressing the gauze on a wound.

Giorno smiled wryly. "You don't know how good that guy is. He took a metal knife that seemed to be on his arm, and it gave me a lot of trouble. I think I'm lucky that I'm still alive."

"So, that guy is dead?" Mista asked.

"No," Giorno shook his head, "but he's not a threat anymore."

Mista stared at Giorno suspiciously, but the latter didn't continue to explain.Mista snorted. "Okay," he wrapped the last wound with a bandage, and helped Giorno stand up, "I'll tell Bucciarati later, you go and lie down."

"No, Bucciarati already knows," Giorno said, "I told him."

"Okay, it's up to you." Mista helped Giorno to lie down on the bed.

"Mista," Giorno called.He tried to smile, but his face was still as pale as a ghost. "Thank you."

Mista looked at the large expanse of dried blood on his body, then averted her eyes. "Don't worry too soon," he said, "you don't know if the wound will become inflamed."

Giorno didn't answer any more.The man closed his eyes and fell asleep tiredly.

Mista went to clean up, and the bathroom was a mess.He stopped at the door of the bathroom before he realized that there was so much blood, and for a moment he thought Giorno was going to die.His hands were covered with blood, and when he washed them under the running water, the water turned scarlet.He stretched out his hand stiffly, and rushed for a few seconds. Most of the blood was gone, and the rest dried up and seeped into the lines of his palm. He stretched out his hand to rub it, and found blood clots buried in his nails.After rubbing it twice, he suddenly grabbed the handle of the faucet until his knuckles turned white.His trembling was well hidden.

Finally, he turned on the shower and rinsed the floor carelessly, then walked back to the bedroom to check on Giorno.The man frowned tightly, sleeping extremely restlessly.Mista stared at him for a while, then walked out lightly, moved a chair by the bed, curled up on it and closed his eyes.

****

The next day, Giorno really had a fever.

Mista was awakened by the sound of glass breaking.He immediately looked towards the bed, where Giorno was half leaning against the head of the bed, stretching out his hands in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I wanted to drink some water and accidentally broke your glass." Giorno said as he leaned over to pick up the broken glass.

"Don't worry about that," Mista picked him up and pushed him back on the bed. "Stay honestly. Be careful to open the wound. I managed to wrap it up."

Mista cleaned up the broken glass, went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water and handed it to Giorno.Giorno thanked him, but when he took the cup, his hand shook, almost spilling it all on the bed sheet.Mista frowned, watching the other party wobbly holding up the glass to drink water, as if the thing weighed a ton.The blond man's lips were pale, but an abnormal blush appeared on his cheeks.

Damn.Mista reached out to touch Giorno's forehead, it was so hot.He cursed, pulled out the medicine chest and dumped it on the table, but it was all expired.Damn awesome.He swept them all into the trash can with a clatter, then strode back to the bed.

"I'm going to buy medicine and I'll be right back."

After speaking, Mista turned to leave, but someone grabbed her hand suddenly.He turned his head in surprise, Giorno was holding him, his palms were hot.Mista struggled, but unexpectedly did not break free. This guy obviously couldn't even hold the cup steadily, so he didn't know where he got the strength at the moment.

"I...I haven't thought it through yet," the blond man murmured, "I can't figure it out." He looked at Mista, but it seemed he wasn't looking at him, his eyes were not focused.

Please do me a favor.please.Don't let your brain burn out.You're the smarter of the two of us.Mista was confused by his gibberish, but knew he couldn't waste time. "Then think about it slowly and let go of your hands first," he replied angrily.

Giorno shook his head desperately.He had a bad fever, and his voice was hoarse: "...I don't know what to do. I really can't figure it out. It takes time. Give me some more time, let me think about it again." He yelled intermittently The man was puzzled, and suddenly raised his eyes and looked straight into Mista's eyes.

"...please," he said.

Mista had no idea what Giorno was talking about, but the man's eyes made him tremble.He had never seen Giorno like this.There are many words that can be used to describe Giorno: calm, steady, confident, he always has a way, and can always plan everything in an orderly manner; and this Giorno, covered in injuries and fatigue, looks confused , with some cautious pleading in his eyes, his whole body seemed to be broken at the touch of a button.Like a bewildered child.

Mista's heart seemed to be clenched tightly.He opened his mouth, but didn't know what to say. He was stunned for a while, and had to call his name: "Giorno, you have a fever. You have to let me go, I'll go buy medicine. If you don't take the medicine, you will die."

Giorno seemed to understand, but didn't seem to listen, he nodded blankly, but clenched his hands even tighter.Mista had no choice but to break off his fingers one by one.There was a strange choke in Giorno's throat.Mista didn't dare to delay any longer, stuffed the man into the quilt, and hurried out the door.

The nearby pharmacy was not stocked, so Mista had to go to a bigger one a block away.He grabbed boxes of pills and bandages from the shelves, skipped the line, and tossed the items and money to the pharmacist for the check.

"Hey!" The man pushed behind him dissatisfied. "The next one is me!"

Seeing that Mista ignored it, the man yelled and reached out to grab Mista's shoulder.Mista turned around abruptly, grabbed the man by the collar, and dragged him to him.The man was a head shorter than him, and when he saw Mista's eyes, his voice suddenly dropped.Mista looked at him coldly, lowered her head and leaned in front of the man, and suddenly smiled cordially. "What's wrong with you?"

"W-what?" The man shrank back even more when he saw the smile.

Without waiting for his answer, Mista loosened his collar, grabbed the man's arm and looked at the medicine bottle in his hand. "Oh," he dragged his voice, "Cough syrup. Do you use it?" Seeing the man nodding, Mista asked again: "Are you coughing to death?"

"Me what?" the man repeated pitifully, confused for a moment.

Mista leaned close to the tip of the man's nose, with a big smile on his face and fierce eyes, and he paused every single word: "Let me ask you, are you coughing to death? Please, what kind of difficult question is this?" Is it? Yes or no, look, you only need one word to answer."

"No—no," replied the man timidly. "I've got a cold and I've had—a little cough, so..."

"Look! This question is indeed very simple, right? Listen to what's wrong with our dear friend, he has a cold and a little cough," Mista grabbed the other party's neckline again, and dragged the man to stand on tiptoe. "Listen to me, man, I'm in a hurry to get these meds, very fast. But I'm not unreasonable. So there are two things I can put you in front of, one, you're coughing up your fucking lungs now, Two, I'll rip your lungs out of your rotten, disgusting throat - and for the latter, I'll call an ambulance for free. How? That's an easy question too, take your pick, my friend. "

The man trembled even more, speechless. "I'm not—I'm not—you, you first, you first!"

Mista let him go, and reached out to smooth out the wrinkles on his collar. "So, we're all right?"

The man nodded desperately.Mista ignored him, turned around and snatched the bag from the pharmacist tremblingly, and strode out.

He didn't expect to run so far in advance, Mista didn't drive, so he had to walk quickly, and soon broke out in a thin layer of sweat.He took a shortcut and passed through the square. The seagulls were still lazily arranging their wings in the sun in twos and threes, but he couldn't be as leisurely as yesterday.He strode past the wishing pool, walked a few meters, gradually slowed down, stopped, and suddenly turned around and ran back to the wishing pool, took out all the money on his body, and threw it in without paying attention to coins and banknotes.There were exclamations from passers-by, but Mista ignored them. He just looked up at the angel sculpture on the top of the wishing pool, stared blankly for a few seconds, and then left without looking back.

Back home, Mista immediately went to check on Giorno's situation.The man burned even more.Mista barely managed to infuse him with medicine, and changed the medicine for the wound.Giorno was in a daze from the fever and kept his eyes closed.Mista was worried that he would faint, so he patted his face and called his name. Giorno opened his eyes slightly, and moaned a few times. The man's bangs were scattered, and some strands of hair were wet and sticky with sweat On the forehead, the chapped lips were tightly pursed, bloodless.Mista watched him fall into a deep sleep, leaned down, and kissed Giorno's closed eyes.

"Get better soon, you bastard. Didn't you say you're getting better soon. Little liar." He murmured.I don't know if it was for Giorno or for himself.

****

By evening, Giorno's fever subsided a bit, at least he stopped moaning or talking nonsense in his sleep.This somewhat relieved Mista.He shook Giorno's shoulder, trying to tell him to get up and drink some water.Giorno half-opened his eyes, still a little dazed, like an old engine starting slowly, he stared at him for a long time before he saw clearly.

"Mista?" Giorno called him, as if to confirm.

"It's okay, you still recognize me, I'm worried that you're going to burn out your brain," Mista breathed a sigh of relief. "Welcome to live, kid. Life is tough."

Giorno hummed vaguely, tried his best to widen his eyes and looked at Mista, then smiled reassuringly, and slowly closed his eyes again.Good guy.What's the matter with this bloody and affectionate look at the hero and heroine after waking up from a serious injury at the end of a Hollywood blockbuster?Well, although Mista is indeed very similar to the heroine who is handsome, mighty and powerful, the guy on the bed can't be compared to the heroine in any movie he has seen, because it is obvious that Giorno is not petite enough , no big breasts, and he didn't miss what Mista had.This last point is confirmed by practice.

"Don't sleep," Mista patted Giorno's face angrily. "Get up and drink some water, I don't want you to die of thirst in bed."

Giorno turned his head, pressed his hand, and rubbed it against his palm. His long eyelashes rubbed against his hand, making his hand itchy.Mista froze, not knowing whether it was intentional or not.

"You—" Mista opened his mouth, then closed it again.He was at a loss for a while, then tentatively called Giorno, and slowly pulled his hand out.

Giorno immediately realized that it was not him at all who was burning so dazed that he couldn't even open his eyes.The blond man followed and stretched his neck forward, sticking to Mista's palm all the time, and rubbing against him again, like an oversized clingy cat.

Mamma Mia.thought Mista.He wasn't taught how to deal with this in the police manual.How to deal with a partner who is delirious and suddenly becomes dependent on you, especially when violence is not an option (given that the partner is hurting).Tsk tsk, major mistake.Whoever wrote the manual deserves a paycheck.

But nothing in the police manual tells you to sleep with your partner.A voice in my heart said.Don't we rely on self-taught?

— Now is not the time to think about that.Mista firmly ignored the voice.He had to deal with the trouble in front of him before he got into a fight with his own brain.He hesitated for a few seconds whether to keep this posture until Giorno fully woke up and laughed at him with this, the eager anticipation of seeing the embarrassment of the other party, and the fact that Giorno (and his hateful teeth) tickle props) [-]/[-] concerns about silence.He moved a little more, and Giorno pressed closer against him, as if his hands were some sort of security blanket.Mista wasn't sure if this was Giorno's usual reaction to injuries, or just this time... just because it was him.But maybe that wasn't something he should be thinking about at all.In the end, he didn't take his hand away.

"Mista." Giorno called his name with his eyes closed, his voice still hoarse, muffled in his palm, light and fuzzy.Mista had to lower her head.

"what happened again?"

"...I was thinking about something just now."

Mista snorted, deeply doubting that Giorno's brain can still be used to think about things now. "What's up?"

"I had some dreams, some good, some... bad." Giorno was still not awake, and said in a daze, as if dreaming: "But I woke up and saw you. I am so happy. I Love being with you. I was like, let me stay a little longer, this is good..."

While speaking, Giorno's dry, chapped lips brushed Mista's palm nonchalantly, and his hot breath from the high fever seeped into the veins of his palm, and the heat flowed into Mista's heart along the blood vessels.His heart was beating vigorously.

"I was thinking, if only I could stop time." Giorno's vague whisper was like a sigh.

The room gradually became quiet, and Giorno fell into a drowsy sleep again.Mista looked at him, still resting his hand on his pillow.

See, thought Mista, I thought he'd had a fever, and now he's babbling again.Pause time, ha.He rolled his eyes, but couldn't help but smirked, as if his smile could light up the night sky outside the window.He stared at Giorno's peaceful sleeping face, just as he was staring at his own heart.This time he really saw it, no more dodging, no more intentional ignoring and careless waiting, and he made up his mind not to take his eyes off it again.

****

The next day, when Mista woke up, he found Giorno staring at him, and almost fell out of bed in fright.Yeah, even if Mista did sleep on the bed last night (because sleeping on the sofa or chair is his