for the giomis week first kiss prompt ^__^ i think it’d be cool if their ‘first kisses’ were like.. comfortable familiarity.. casual on the cheek/brow etc
Happy Boxing Day to the lovely and talented @hanneswrites! This is my first time writing Giomis seriously, and I had to take the opportunity to do a little Hurt/Comfort because hey, but also Getting Together because Hey!
I hope you like it, and the version I’m sure I’m going to rewrite in a month because I’m an obsessive disaster
TITLE: Close To You
FANDOM:JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (Part 5)
PAIRING: Giorno Giovanna/Guido Mista
RATING:M for heavy themes, but T+ content-wise
WARNINGS: Religion & Church stuff but with a whole lot of poetic license, Christmas, Holidays, post-canon (spoilers), mention of past child abuse
SUMMARY: Giorno Giovanna and Guido Mista have vastly different associations with the last month of the year. December 2001 promises to be the most challenging one of their young lives. But maybe, together, they can get through it.
Close To You
The holidays were going to suck this year.
Guido Mista loved them, usually. The countdown to Christmas started with a party on his birthday, December 3rd. His sisters and their friends would spend all day making sweets and decorating, and in the evening the whole neighborhood would come over with food and presents and tell Mista what a fine man he was becoming and praise the good care he took of his mom and the girls. The rest of the month was a bustle of celebration and activity - building care packages for the needy, taking the nonnas to mass, getting a lira here or there for being such a good boy. That wasn’t the point though, he’d remind himself. This is the time for giving, Guido, his father once said. Give of yourself to your neighbor and he will give you thanks. Give of yourself to God and He will give you His blessing.
After his father was gone, Mista tried to live his life with something like that principle in mind. Even when caring for his neighbor yielded him not thanks but a life sentence. Even when his deepest prayers went unanswered. He was saved, eventually, but condemned to the only life a condemned man could lead, at the cost of all of those things he used to love. No more neighbors or family.
How strange it was, then, that that December would be the most special of his life. Not six months out of prison, and there he was surrounded by a ragtag assembly of boys just as screwed up or screwed as him, all raising a glass to his 18th birthday. Mista wouldn’t dare call them family, too macho for sentimental shit like that. But all five of them, perched here and there on mismatched furniture in the cold air, forgetting for a second the job that brought them together - it sure as hell felt like home.
