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Dear, Pannacotta Fugo
Even though this letter is addressed to you, I sincerely pray that you will never read this. Or you’ll let me write this letter in a way where I wouldn’t mind you reading it. But I would greatly prefer that you never read this one. So why am I writing a letter that I don’t want you to read? Well, see, I may harbor…romantic feelings for you. Which didn’t become an issue to me until had Polnareff brought it up moments ago. He said that my feelings for you are starting to spill into my work. He notices that I sacrifice missions that are set for you in order to spend more time with you, he claims that I ‘take time away from you doing your job’ so I can see you in my office whenever I feel like it. I disagree with Polnareff on many points but that’s not the point of this letter. The point of this letter is that Polanreff suggested that I get an outlet to let my feelings into if I am unwilling to talk about my feelings with anybody. And so I sit here, writing a letter never to see the daylight. I must admit it is a bit…cathartic. I do see more benefits in writing to myself than venting to another person. Talking to people about my feelings will raise the chances you found out and I risk judgement for my feelings. I already had with Polnareff. So I will turn to this form of expression had I feel my feelings for you are consuming me. Thank you for reading this, although I hope you never have to.
Yours truly, Giorno Giovanna
<3
‘Sickeningly Sweet’
With bags so heavy, and your lips bloody bitten, you’ve always been so sickeningly sweet
Sharp tongue and lasered eyes, it feels like being struck by lightning
Sugary pleasant, bloody murder, oh what a treat
Let me melt as you infect me
A most excruciating pain to fight through for you
With bags so heavy, and your lips bloody bitten, you’ve always been so sickeningly sweet
You had never left when fate would let us meet
To you what was a test of trust was a test of love
Sugary pleasant, bloody murder, oh what a treat
The rough patch on your lips is a sign of never-coming deceit
Half a step forward and half a step closer
With bags so heavy, and your lips bloody bitten, you’ve always been so sickeningly sweet
Your devotion and your passion, is what made you my devotee
To be at the mercy of one’s fingertip
Sugary pleasant, bloody murder, oh what a treat
When you knelt down, your lips soft as you weep
It was then I knew I had a rare ruby in my palms
With bags so heavy, and your lips bloody bitten, you’ve always been so sickeningly sweet
Sugary pleasant, bloody murder, oh what a treat
<3
Dear Pannacotta Fugo,
You have the undeniable ability of selling yourself short. When I praise you for your work you insist that you could do better. When I ask you for advice, you always end your suggestions with ‘but what do you think?’. Like your words aren’t valid unless I have similar words of my own. But you have so much more power than you know. You have the undeniable ability of catching my attention every moment we stand in the same room. In meetings, you’re the second opinion I subconsciously look for. I love to see where your ruby red eyes glance off to. I notice that when you don’t have anything to hold onto, or to write down, you jump to playing with your cufflinks. The strawberry ones fit you very well, might I add. I’ve also taken note that whenever you’re thinking really hard you tend to purse your lips and look up in thought. I know you’d rather die than hear this but the expression makes you look very adorable. Sometimes I have to force myself not to look at you, but in the end I always give in. ‘Just one tiny glance’ I tell myself but I always go back for more. A part of me wishes I could just call you into my office whenever I please and just stare at your incredibly gorgeous face whenever I’m feeling stressed but I know that will inconvenience you as well. But it’s fine. Because I see you nearly everyday and that’s more than most people can say.
Longing to see you again, Giorno Giovanna
<3
Dear Pannacotta Fugo,
I…hold you to my highest adortions.
Today I went out on my balcony to clear my mind, lately my head has been in the papers too much. I looked down at the garden my balcony was posted above and I saw you and Sheila E sitting on the edge of the fountain bench. Which, may I say, I’m extremely happy that you and Sheila E get along so well. I know nothing could ever replace your friendships with Narancia, Abbacchio, or even Bruno. But I’m glad you have a new friend that isn’t tied to the events we went through during that week. It seems like you guys understand each other on a level you don’t have with many people. Sorry, that was off topic. As I was saying, you and Sheila E seemed to have been arguing about something, although I couldn’t hear over what exactly. It didn’t seem like a genuine argument, you guys were smiling about it. All I saw was you laughing and I felt my heartbeat quicken. It was the first time I realized I had never heard you laugh. It made me unbearably sad that I couldn’t actually hear your laugh, not clearly at least. But the look on your face as you laughed already told me my ears would be greatly blessed to hear it. It seemed loud, you seemed surprised by your own laugh and slightly embarrassed by it. Seeing your smile, a genuine smile, was rare in and of itself. But hearing your laugh, what can make you laugh, would be something akin to seeing the northern lights. Fugo, what humors you? Would you be so shy in letting me hear your laugh? Even just a chuckle? Please don’t, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.
With love and anticipation, Giorno Giovanna
<3
Dear, Guido Mista
Hello. To follow the patterns of the rest of these letters, I will pray to the most current entity out there that you will never receive this letter in your lifetime. With that being said, I want some advice. —Is how I would phrase this proposition if I were speaking to you directly. But I am not. So I will be straightforward with you. I wish for information. I want to know how you met Fugo. What was he like? When had he joined the bodyguard team and why? What sort of life led him down this path? A part of me is envious of the time you guys have spent together before you met me. This goes beyond Fugo. I want to know what everyone was like before the start of their mafia days. How did they change over the course of their illegal doings? Was Abbacchio always a brood? Why was Narancia so determined to finish his education? Why of all choices did Bruno turn to Passione? The same goes for you guys. For such an easy going guy like yourself, what made you turn to the mafia? What did the days look like before I came along? You guys always talked about the talks you had at Libeccio’s, was it a hangout spot for the bodyguard team? What did Fugo order there? Was it always the same thing or did he switch things up from time to time? A part of me wishes Abbacchio was here, that everyone was here, but Abbacchio especially. Then I could bribe him into letting me use Moody Blues to find the answers to all these questions plaguing my mind. But alas, life doesn’t always go the way we want them to. And life won’t always give us the answers to our most dire questions. Maybe one day I will gain the courage to talk to you about these things, you always seemed a fan of having in depth conversations.
Signed, Giorno Giovanna
<3
‘To Love Or Not To Love?’
To love is to be vulnerable
With your deepest desires in the hands of one another
Does that mean it should be insufferable?
When it seems so hopeless it almost turns into a honey sucker
With a matter of being loved, would I make a good lover?
Am I allowed to take your hand as you did mine?
To make your heart beat with a flutter
Would then our hearts be intertwined?
To love is to give
Your sweet somethings and loving touches
To return that same love is something of a dream I’d beg to live
The power to make my heart ache softly in bunches
Until my affection starts to steam out in fluxes
Would I overwhelm you until your brain starts to fry?
Until your insistent rambles start coming out in rushes
While I’m feeling so happy I could die
To love is to cry
To turn the hotness of anger into blushes
When there’s been a breach, promise me you won’t say goodbye
Or is the pressure so strong that it’ll crush us?
Only then will my heart continue to soar piceous
Maybe it’s alright to shed tears on your shoulder
And the intensity wouldn’t be enough to stun us
To feel more like equals than a lovesick soldier
To love is to be with you
With my heart threatening to break my rib cage
And I feel so hot enough to catch the flu
Almost as hot as when you go into a rage
I wish for a day never to come where we estrange
My heart would shatter into pieces
Impossible to rearrange
I’d rather melt from your diseases
To be the eye of the passion your eye shines with a gleam
I want you to only look at me.
The feelings I hold for you and the thoughts I have about you may be extreme
But I wouldn’t do anything to be set free
(That went on longer than I’d like to admit)
<3
Dear Pannacotta Fugo,
Today I thank you? Virtually there were thousands of ways I could get background information on you. I have many connections, I could have even requested Murolo get every bit of data on you before your Passione days just like that. But I decided not to. To me, doing so felt like an invasion of your privacy. And I would rather have you tell me these things yourself. And after waiting for so long, you did. I am so grateful. A part of me wondered if Mista knows the things you told me, or even Sheila E. But I shouldn’t be thinking about that. To me, that’s a sign of ungratefulness. That what you told me wasn’t enough and I needed more. But that couldn’t be farther from the case. I made sure to take in every word you were saying, words I will never forget, and words I will never be ungrateful for. You trust me only what you trust me with, because I will be sure to cherish every bit of trust you put into me not to break it. I can only hope you trust me more and more but I will never push you to go further than what you’re comfortable with.
Forever and always, Giorno Giovanna
<3
Dear Pannacotta Fugo,
There are so many things I admire about you. The way you played the piano was nothing short of ethereal to me. Your intelligence is amazing, I could watch you ramble on for hours on end. Yet these are things you’re shy of, or ashamed of. To see you chained down to your painful past makes me frustrated for you. You are talented. You deserve to flesh out and come into your own with that talent free of the pressure your parents previously put on you. I know I can’t say anything. My parents were the exact opposite, they never cared for me, never had a use for me. But you are so much more than the sky high expectations your parents forced on you. You deserve to play piano without being reminded of the lessons you were forced to do. You deserve to expell the vast amount of knowledge you had stored in your head without remembering that you learned it for the sake of your parents. I can only hope I can help you be more comfortable with your gifts. I want you to cherish your talent the same way I do, completely fresh and beautiful. I wish you can appreciate yourself like I do you.
With hope and love, Giorno Giovanna
<3
You stand there blind
Just blissfully unaware
You have my heart trapped
When our fingers brush each other
And you give me that sweet smile
Would you let me in?
Or are you avoiding me?
Deny my affections
What I feel is real
And the love I hold for you
To feel this sadness
Your soul in my greedy hands
Nothing will make me let go
<3
Dear Bruno Bucciarati,
I….do not know how to start this letter off. But I don’t know who else I could address this to. I’ve never told you anything about the person I was before I joined Passione. You didn’t know my exact motivations for why I had this dream. This isn’t something I can tell Mista, or Polnareff. Or anybody. Except Fugo. I told Fugo. I don’t know how to feel. I’ve never had to tell anybody…anything. I’ve never told anybody about the abuse, my physical inability to cry at appropriate times. Or the man that watched over me from afar. But I thought I could tell Fugo. He trusts me, I want to show him I trust him as well. And I do. But…it’s not easy. —Opening up. And I wonder if that’s how Fugo felt as well, when he was telling me pieces of his past. In that moment I felt like I wanted to cry, but I just couldn’t. Not to say Fugo made things harder. He couldn’t empathize, but he can understand. And he could say the same. At least, I hope I didn’t make things harder than it already was for him. I’ve only heard of your past through word of mouth so…I thought this letter could be me returning the favor. I hope I’m making you proud with the work I’m doing now. I know I can never be you but I’ll do everything I can to protect the people who were in your care as well.
Sincerely, Giorno Giovanna
<3
Dear Pannacotta Fugo,
I love you. Words cannot describe the intense love I have for you. People always say that there’s more fish in the sea but I’m confident that there’s nobody else out there for me. You are the only one for me. You are the only one that can put me at ease when the stresses of running a growing mafia gets to me. It’s only your smile that can make me melt from the inside out. You’re the only person I’d ever take a disease to incinerate me from the inside out for. It’s only you I want to be held by, and equally to hold. My heart aches for you to love me back. Without your love I will forever be stuck in a limbo of unrequited affections. I can never see myself moving on from you. Not as long as you’re by my side, and you’re my right hand man. Whether I’m loved back or I have to stand by the sidelines as you’re drifting away from me, I will always love you.
Yours and only yours, Giorno Giovanna
<3
“Fugo…Fugo!” Fugo stops in his tracks, looking down at the small table in the hallway, holding a vase of lavenders.
“Polnareff? How did you even get up there??” Fugo questioned, picking up the turtle.
“Bah! That doesn’t matter!” Polnareff extends his neck out towards the boy as best as he can. “Look, I need you to get something from Giorno’s quarters. It’s a bunch of files on people from the old Passione we need to keep an eye on.”
Fugo raised a brow. “In his room? Wouldn’t that stuff be in his office or something?”
“Exactly! That’s what people are gonna think first which makes his office too much of an obvious target. Anyways, can you get them for me? They’re in a locked box. Here’s the key.” Polnareff’s soul comes out, throwing a key into Fugo’s free hand.
“Uh —okay?? Are you sure this is okay?”
“Yes, it’s fine! I’ll give him the files back, I just need to look at something. Now put me down in the lounge room or something.”
Fugo put Polnareff on one of the couches, praying he doesn’t get sat on as he rushed back upstairs and to Giorno’s room.
Fugo was surprised the door opened so easily, for some reason he thought Giorno would be more strict in keeping his private quarters locked. Even Fugo has two locks on his door.
Entering Giorno’s room, Fugo walked towards the magenta satin bed. Kneeling down, Fugo felt around the floorboards until his hand fell into a notch. As Polnareff said, the floorboards lifted and Fugo pulled out a black box with a large padlock on it.
Fugo sat himself on the ground. He felt curiosity run through his veins. Who’s files were in this box? Was there a possibility that he was still in there from before his mission with Sheila E and Murolo?
…Bah! He’ll look through it and then lock it before he gives it to Polnareff.
Fugo slotted the key into the padlock and unlocked it. The ring slid out of one of the holes of the lock plate before he opened the lid of the box. But instead of pictures of potential traitors and biographies about them, there were…letters? And…was that his name? Fugo narrowed his eyes, picking up the first note. The note was addressed to him.
Fugo forgot about Polnareff, his request for the files and why it was weird that Polnareff’s directions led him to these letters.
Because Fugo couldn’t stop himself from reading that letter, and ultimately everything else that follows.
<3
Giorno came back to his room from a meeting that night. Per routine, Giorno kneels beside his bed. With muscle memory, Giorno finds the notch in his floorboards and opens it up. Giorno pulled out his box of letters, moving to his desk nearby. He unlocked the box and opened it before pausing.
Instead of the first letter he wrote to Fugo, as was the first thing Giorno usually sees, it was another letter. One he most definitely didn’t remember writing or seeing.
The letter was folded up, this was the first difference he saw between this letter and Giorno’s own. The second was the red wax seal, one that had a rose embedded into the wax.
Giorno took a nearby letter opener, opening the envelope from the top so as to not ruin the seal. The third difference was the paper. Instead of the archival paper Giorno usually uses for his letters, this paper was ivory letter paper. The paper was flat, thin but not flimsy.
The fourth difference was the smell. While he could smell that natural paper smell, that was second to the sweet strawberry scent. The scent wasn’t overpowering, but with a waft it’s a scent that lingers. And what a sweet scent it was.
Giorno brought the paper to his face, breathing in. The scent was calming, yet Giorno could feel his heart begin to race.
Finally, with curiosity itching at his very fingertips, Giorno unfolded the letter.
A fifth difference was that this letter was written in a deep red pen. The sixth, it was addressed to himself.
‘Dearest Giorno Giovanna,
Seeing this letter in your box must be of shock to you. I apologize for invading your privacy, but the majority of these letters were addressed to me so I thought it was appropriate that I read them for myself. I was…elated to say the least. I do not consider myself a lovable person, and I do not consider myself a very loving person either. But reading your letters, seeing the words you willingly chose to describe me as, and seeing my…effects on you make me feel like I could be just those. You’ve always had this effect on me. The effect that with you by my side, and with you to strive for, I could do nothing I would have never imagined myself doing. I never thought I could fall in love with someone. I never thought there was anybody in the world who could let me put my guard down, and could appreciate me for who I am. Not just for my intellect, or the work I put in for Passione. I used to find you intimidating, and untouchable. And in a way I still view you like that. But the first time you were ever truly vulnerable with me I saw a person in you, a person just like me. An equal. So…I think we can try this. I would like to try this. I’m sorry if this is all over the place, even knowing you won’t ‘reject’ me, I’m not the best at putting myself out in the open on an emotional (romantic) level.
Unconditionally yours, Pannacotta Fugo’
Giorno read the letter, a love-stricken smile on his face. His heart was soaring. He read the letter over and over, imagining the look on Fugo’s face while he wrote it, or how he would sound if he read it out loud and the caidance he would say it.
With a sense of urgency and giddiness, Giorno reached over for his fountain pen and his archival paper. For the first time since he started writing these letters, he felt nothing but pure confidence.
<3
‘Dearest Pannacotta Fugo,
Your letter made me the happiest and the lightest I’ve ever felt in my life. I want to try ‘this’ with you. I will try anything and everything with you. I will go at any pace you’re comfortable with enough. This — you —are a dream come true.
Eternally yours, Giorno Giovanna