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Murolo was sitting outside the restaurant. It was a clear, sunny day and the air was filled with bird song and the hustle and bustle of people going about their business. If someone was none the wiser to his situation, they’d assume he was feeling cheery. It was the perfect day for that sort of mood. Murolo himself believed he should be feeling that way. However, that wasn’t the case.
Giorno would be meeting him today. Giorno Giovanna , the teenage boss of Passione. That boy, always composed, always eloquent. Despite being nearly twenty years younger than Murolo, he carried himself with grace and spoke with the wisdom of someone who had been on this Earth much longer than a mere sixteen years.
Murolo had his suspicions, though. He didn’t think lowly of his boss, no, that wasn’t what was going through his head. It was simply a hunch that Giorno was putting up a face for Passione. The boy would want to appear in control. Trustworthy. Reliable. It’s not that he wasn’t composed, eloquent, graceful, and wise, he was simply hiding all his times of weakness.
...Not that Murolo could say for sure. It wasn’t his place to think such things, let alone be convinced of them. It was just a feeling he couldn’t shake. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thoughts. He had to focus on the situation at hand. Well, it wasn’t quite at hand . Not yet. He had at least an hour or two ahead of him before the boss arrived. The thing is he had arrived early to give himself time to have a good meal and prepare for how to handle what the two of them were going to discuss.
He recalled what Giorno requested. It was rather simple, really. It was going to be just a quiet meeting between the two of them, so they could discuss the expansion and promotion of the Information Analysis Team. Perhaps ‘team’ was too generous. In truth, the ‘team’ Murolo claimed to run consisted of himself and himself alone.
However, Giorno had taken an interest. He said that having a team like that would be useful, and that being able to process and pass intel around Passione would make many things a lot simpler. Murolo also speculated that if the boss was open to information circulating the organisation, it would paint him as an open and trustworthy leader. A motivation like that would make sense, and Giorno scarcely acted without an underlying plan.
That wasn’t what had been weighing on Murolo’s mind. He was looking forward to the importance of his work being acknowledged, in fact. What actually worried him was what else Giorno had said.
The boy suggested that he should work more closely with the Hitman Team.
Risotto Nero, Prosciutto, Illuso, the lot of them. The hitmen were already considered shady folk, even more so when the word got out that they were traitors who had attacked the current boss and his team. However, once matters had been resolved, Giorno gave them a much better pay and allowed them to have their own territory at last.
It wasn’t their untrustworthiness that made Murolo nervous, though. It was the fact that he had been the one to pit them against Diavolo, the former boss of Passione. He didn’t care who won, as long as he benefited from the fight. Such a self-centered, shallow man he had been. He had even given extremely sensitive information to his old friends Sorbet and Gelato, fully aware of the danger he was putting them in, all because of a chance, a gamble, that he’d be able to climb higher because of their struggle. Perhaps if he had felt any amount of guilt for putting his friends at risk, he would’ve been able to salvage the situation… But he hadn’t felt an ounce of shame until Giorno had reprimanded him for his actions.
Every member of the team was clever. They would’ve figured out his intent the moment things went sour. Could he face them after all that?
He stabbed his fork into the meat on his plate and tore off a piece. There was no use wallowing in his own doubt now. He had a meal to enjoy, and it wasn’t like he’d be seeing them today. All he had to do was talk with Giorno and find out the boy’s intentions. It was just a suggestion, after all, who knows what’s actually on the boss’ mind?
“Murolo? Is that you? You sly bastard!”
All of a sudden, there was a hand placed firmly on his shoulder. He looked up.
Looking down at him was an exceptionally tall man, his dark hair gelled up to a point. His stare was piercing, and Murolo couldn’t help but feel as if his every move was being watched keenly. Coming up beside him was a man of a much more average height, with sharply defined cheekbones and tousled blond hair. He was watching just as sharply.
Out of all the times they could’ve shown up, there they were. Sorbet and Gelato.
For a moment, Murolo believed he was being attacked and was ready to jump out of his seat and make a break for it. However, neither of them made a move to harm him. “You’re still alive?” Sorbet said, raising an eyebrow. It was less of a question and more of a dry remark. There was a noticeable edge to his tone, but there was no aggression.
“Yeah, I thought the boss would’ve done away with you,” Gelato remarked. “The old one, that is.”
“Well, you two got away just fine, even when he sent those freaks after you. What do you want from me?” Murolo asked. He looked Sorbet in the eye, despite how much the intensity made him want to avert his gaze. There was no reason for them to come up to him like this unless they wanted to confront him.
The couple exchanged a glance. Then Gelato burst out laughing. “Glad to see you’re the same old Murolo! You haven’t changed a bit!”
“Is that all you have to say?” Murolo replied, pushing Sorbet’s hand off his shoulder and standing up.
“You don’t want to see us?” Sorbet said. “Do you think we’ve come after you because of the situation with the old boss?”
“Why else? I took advantage of you, I nearly got you both killed, and I didn’t even think about helping you. You really think we can go back to old times after that?” About to turn his back, Sorbet reached out again and forced him to turn around to face them.
This time, Gelato spoke. “It’s been over two years, do you really think any of that matters now? It doesn’t change the fact that it was a bad thing to do, but in the end, circumstance drove you to do it, just like how circumstance drove Sorbet and I to pursue the boss’ identity. We’ve all done pretty nasty things, and that’s putting it lightly. In the end, you never really hurt anyone, did you?”
“...Really? Is that what you really think? You’re not just trying to spare my feelings?”
“For the love of– My husband here took a little more convincing, but yes , we’ve agreed that we can move past that. We haven’t talked for a long time, but I take back what I said. You have changed. You’re still that same old nervous, stubborn guy I always knew, but I can tell… You’ve got some backbone. You’re ashamed of what you did, huh?” Gelato’s voice was steady as he spoke, keeping eye contact with Murolo. He took a step towards him, and another, until he was nearly pushed up against the brim of Murolo’s hat. “You just don’t wanna see us ‘cause you’re afraid we’re out to get you, right?”
Murolo tilted up the brim of his hat so he could see Gelato better. Gelato’s expression wasn’t angry, nor aggressive. Aside from the irritation on his features, he was completely relaxed. In turn, that made Murolo relax too. He had gotten so caught up in his own fear that he hadn’t considered that his old friends… Actually wanted to see him. Had they missed him? After what he had done?
“I… Yeah. Yes, I didn’t think you’d want to see me. I hadn’t thought that you’d move on from something like that when I put both of you in danger,” he admitted. “So, we’re really all good?”
Gelato smiled a smile that was just as crooked and warm as when Murolo had last seen it. Sorbet, who had been standing by and watching closely, came over and rested his hand on his husband’s shoulder. “So, Murolo… What have you been up to?” he inquired.
The events of the last few days flooded his mind. Between Giorno giving him actual work to do and helping out Sheila E and Fugo, he had barely gotten a chance to catch his breath. He recalled how much Sorbet and Gelato enjoyed his stories, though. “Well, a lot has been going on recently,” he began. “But I have an hour or so until Giovanna arrives. Want to hear a story, like old times?”
Gelato happily seated himself in the seat meant for Giorno. “Oh, you’re meeting with the boss? Finally got your team acknowledged, huh?”
Sorbet pulled up a spare chair. “A story?” he asked as he sat down. A smile tugged at his lips. “You’re gonna tell us the truth, right?”
“One thing at a time, alright?” Murolo said with a chuckle. “Let me explain…”
Soon, they were talking.
The last time they had sat down and talked like this was two years ago, months before he had offered them any sort of information. He could perfectly recall the warm evening, the clink of their glasses and cutlery, the laughter and smiles, and the way Sorbet and Gelato would look at each other. The fact they had tolerated him long enough to get to know him and become friends still surprised him. He was especially unagreeable and stubborn back then. It showed that they really did like him.
Murolo had thrown that all away for… What? Money? A higher position? Some other foolish, self-centered desire? It hadn’t occurred to him until now, but after he had cut himself off from Sorbet and Gelato, he felt awfully empty. He thought that he’d be able to keep living his life with whatever rewards he reaped from his schemes. However, those months had been hollow and long. Why hadn’t he seen that he was just bringing misery upon himself by selling out his friends?
The realisation brought on the same burning shame that Murolo had experienced when Giorno had chided him for his carelessness. Before he could get any deeper into his thoughts, Sorbet spoke, “Hey, you there? You’ve gone quiet.” Gelato waved a hand in front of Murolo’s face, looking at him with a quizzical expression.
Murolo lightly batted Gelato’s hand away. “Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking of how I should tell my story. A lot happened, y’know?” he replied.
Sorbet and Gelato had decided to forgive him. They wanted to be his friends again. They were placing trust in him, and he couldn’t allow himself to let them down a second time. He wouldn’t let them down a second time.
He would treasure them.