This is a little Valentine's Day fic from my Hearts of Gold series, but it can be read as a standalone, so you do not have to be familiar with the series to enjoy this one.
This is set a few years after the events of Part 5, Giorno is 19 here.
A Waltz for the Fools in Love
A JoJo's Bizarre Adventure Fanfic
(Hearts of Gold Verse) Giorno receives a letter from a secret admirer urging him to meet on Valentine's Day. When the person who shows up is not who he expected, will the Don of Passione miss what's right in front of his eyes?
It was rare Giorno was this perplexed by anything. Normally he could figure things out fairly quickly, think on his feet during a fight, come up with a diplomatic answer on the fly when dealing with a disgruntled capo, etc.
This letter, however, was so far outside his wheelhouse that Giorno wasn't entirely certain it was even real. Perhaps it was some sort of trick, the result of a Stand power, even. Because it couldn't be what it actually looked like.
"Giorno, you've been staring at that letter for the last half hour. At least tell us if it's bad news."
Fugo's voice finally cut into his musings and he glanced briefly up at Fugo and Bucciarati who were discussing something over at Fugo's desk.
Giorno looked back down at the pink-tinted stationary and neat handwriting. "It's not bad news," he said quickly, rather embarrassed that he had spent so much time thinking about this as it was. "It's just a…um…a request."
Bucciarati raised an eyebrow. "Business proposal?"
Giorno shook his head. "No." He pressed his lips together into a thin line as he finally handed the letter over. "It looks like I've got a secret admirer."
Bucciarati took the letter with a surprised look, smile widening on his lips as he scanned the text, Fugo peering over his shoulder.
"How sweet," Bucciarati commented. "For Valentine's Day too."
"So are you going to go?" Fugo asked and Bucciarati also looked up expectantly.
"What?" Giorno was taken aback by their reaction, or rather, lack thereof. "No, what if it's an attack? Someone drawing me out?"
"Giorno, even I don't think this is a trap," Bruno told him. "I'm sure this is nothing but an admirer confessing their feelings for the young, unmarried, Don of Passione. You wouldn't believe the amount of love letters and propositions I got from local ladies before I was attached."
"Exactly, so why bother going to give whatever delusional girl who wrote this hope?" Giorno asked, taking the letter back from Bucciarati. "I'm not…I don't exactly have time for a relationship right now, especially with someone I've just met."
"And what if it's just someone you've helped in the past who wants to say thank you?" Fugo pointed out. "There's no real romantic intentions specified in the letter. Simply dinner and a dance."
"On Valentine's Day," Giorno muttered.
"At least consider it," Bucciarati told him. "What harm can it do?"
Giorno glanced at the note again, trying to get it to reveal its secrets. He read it over for probably the twentieth time:
My Dearest Don,
It would be my honor if you would meet with me at Sabatini's on the night of February 14th at 8 PM for dinner and a dance.
Yours Truly, an Admirer
Fugo was right, there wasn't anything particularly romantic about it and it could be simply a person they had helped out wanting an innocent dinner date.
Still, Giorno couldn't help but feel like he was missing something and he didn't like it.
He set the letter aside though and got back to work. He would try not to think about it anymore.
That was until dinner when the news seemed to have spread.
"So, Giorno," Mista began, sharing a look with Narancia before he continued. "You didn't tell us you have a date for Valentine's Day."
"A date?" Maria asked almost too innocently, eyes sparkling as she looked across the table at Giorno.
Giorno felt his face heating and he calmly took a drink of water. "It's not a date and I'm not going anyway."
"What?" Narancia demanded. "How rude would that be to the girl if you just left her in the lurch like that!"
"Yeah come on, man, you can't embarrass her like that," Mista insisted. "That's not very gentlemanly."
"Why is this suddenly everyone's problem but mine?" Giorno asked, getting annoyed by the whole situation. "I don't see why it matters anyway."
"How difficult is it to go have dinner with someone?" Trish asked him and Giorno glanced at her, something twisting deep in his gut at hearing her speak up on the topic.
"It's not like anyone's expecting you to marry the girl, Giorno," Maria assured him kindly.
"And won't everyone talk if I'm seen with someone?" he tried in protest.
"You could claim it as a business dinner if anyone asked," Bucciarati added.
"And you never know, maybe you'll find a connection," Carmen offered with a small smile.
"As one of your advisors, I have to remind you about your reputation," Fugo told him. "You don't want to be known as the kind of man who leaves a woman in the lurch. And you can bet the information would be all over the city by the next day."
"Definitely not," Mista agreed, him and Narancia nodding their heads.
Giorno gritted his teeth and turned to Abbacchio who was the only one who hadn't put in his two cents. "Abbacchio…you can't be on board with this too?" he almost pleaded.
The goth shrugged. "What's the harm, kid? You never know how something's going to go unless you go through with it. I think you should go on the date."
Giorno sighed, setting his fork down on his plate. "Fine. I'll go to the dinner. But stop calling it a date. It's not really a date if I don't even know who I'm meeting up with."
Everyone looked at each other with pleased expressions and Giorno looked down at his plate with mild disgust, feeling suddenly like he'd been ganged up on. It wasn't like he didn't have a million other things to do.
He pushed the letter to the back of his mind until he could no longer ignore it when Valentine's Day made its appearance a few days later.
Giorno stood in the kitchen, watching Fugo putting the finishing touches on some pastries he was making. Since Maria was pregnant in her third trimester, she and Bruno had decided to stay in for Valentine's day with whoever remained. Carmen and Abbacchio had already left for their little romantic trip so Rose was staying with them, currently being looked after by Narancia at the kitchen table making Valentine's cards.
"Aren't you going to go get ready for your date?" Mista asked Giorno with a grin as he prepped dinner.
Giorno sighed. "There's still two hours before I have to leave. And I'm still not sure if I'm going to."
"Aw come on man, someone has to live vicariously for us bachelors!" Narancia pleaded.
"Not that I'm at all surprised you two don't hate dates for Valentine's Day," Fugo muttered before Mista flipped him off.
"Hey I can get a date whenever I want to," Mista retorted.
"Going into a club and spending time with women who are paid to fawn over you is not a date," Fugo told him.
"Yeah, well, still, I'm proud of our boy." Mista grinned and ruffled a hand through Giorno's hair.
Giorno pulled away, annoyed, and fixed his hair. "I don't even…I'm not good at this kind of thing," he admitted.
"You mean you want some advice for pick-up lines?" Narancia asked eagerly.
"He absolutely does not," Fugo snapped before he turned to Giorno. "Just treat it like a normal conversation. If you listen to their advice it's just going to make you act weirder."
Narancia tapped Rose as she finished up scribbling on one of the cards. "Here, Rosie, why don't you give Uncle Giorno his Valentine's Day card now?"
The toddler happily grabbed one of the cards from the table and hurried over to Giorno holding out the card.
"Happy Val'tines Day Unca Gio!" she said.
Giorno crouched with a smile, accepting the card which looked like it was in the vague shape of a ladybug. "Thank you, Rose, this is beautiful. Happy Valentine's day to you too."
He had Gold grab one of the paper scraps from the table and turn it into a flower.
Rose's eyes went wide as Giorno tucked it behind her ear, then squealed in excitement and hurried back to the table.
"See, you're not that hopeless," Mista commented as Giorno straightened up again.
Giorno rolled his eyes but was too tired to argue anymore. He probably should start getting ready anyway. He wanted to get to the restaurant early to scope it out just in case this was a trap.
Giorno snuck a taste of the pastry cream from Fugo's bowl in a defiant gesture. "You better save some of those chocolate pastries for me," he told them, before he left the kitchen.
He was standing in front of the mirror on his closet, balefully looking at his suit options, when a soft knock came on the door.
"Can I come in?"
"Oh, sure."
Giorno was somewhat surprised when he saw Trish enter the room with a smile. "I thought you had left already for the fashion thing in Rome."
"Oh, I have the late train—it leaves at 10," Trish told him. "I couldn't miss seeing you off on your date."
Giorno sighed and threw the suitcoat he'd been holding over a nearby chair. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. Do you really think it's a good idea?"
Trish reached into the closet, pulling out a dark green suitcoat with barely discernable brocade designs and took it off the hanger. "I think that it doesn't hurt to explore a little, take some chances," she told him, motioning for him to turn around as she helped him on with the jacket. "After all, it's just one night, right? No commitments need to be made. It might be fun."
Giorno felt a vague sense of…something—disappointment?—as Trish said that, but he was already such a mess, he didn't want to address and analyze that feeling at this point. He allowed her to fix the collar on his black silk shirt.
"Tie?" he asked.
"No," Trish said decisively. "Leave the collar open. Two—no, three buttons."
He swallowed hard as she undid one more button on his shirt, and stepped back with a smile.
"There, very presentable," she said, then glanced up. "I like your hair too."
"Oh, I just haven't done anything with it yet," Giorno muttered, running a hand through his loose locks.
"Don't," Trish insisted. "You should leave it down more often."
"Oh," Giorno replied lamely. "If you think so."
Trish put her hands on her hips. "Who's the fashion expert?"
Giorno smiled. "Thank you."
"Of course. I hope you have a nice dinner."
She left the room and Giorno continued standing there, just staring at the mirror before he reached for his red ladybug cufflinks.
He grabbed his overcoat and took a deep breath as he left his room. It was time to get going.
He met Maria once he came downstairs and her eyes lit up with a sparkle.
"Oh, Giorno, you look very handsome," she insisted. "I hope you have a good time, dear."
Giorno pressed his lips together. "I don't know. This isn't really my kind of thing…"
"You'll do fine," Bucciarati insisted as he came up to join them, squeezing Giorno's shoulder before handing him a set of car keys. "Take the Maserati tonight."
"Sure," Giorno replied, voice slightly strangled.
"Run along now," Maria told him as Bruno put an arm around her waist, the two looking the picture of proud parents.
Giorno fought the urge to roll his eyes at the absurdity of this entire situation and bid them goodnight before he went out to the Maserati and resigned himself to his fate as he drove to the appointed restaurant.
When Giorno got to Sabatini's he could already hear the strains of music coming from inside. It was a fancy place—he only knew it because the owner paid protection—and they had a ballroom dance floor in addition to dining.
Giorno looked around to see if there was anyone who was obviously waiting for someone, then took a seat on the patio out front. It was still a little chilly for the time of year so no one was sitting out there tonight.
The host came over to offer him the wine list.
"Can I get you something to start with, Signore?" he asked.
Giorno waved him off. "Not right now, thank you, I'm waiting for someone."
The man nodded and was about to leave before Giorno called him back. "Um, there's no one inside who is also waiting for someone?"
The man shook his head. "No, Signore. Only couples tonight."
Giorno nodded and the man went on his way.
The minutes stretched on and Giorno glanced at his watch, seeing that it was already past eight. He began to feel slightly suspicious of the whole setup. Was someone simply doing this in hopes of catching him alone? Was he in actual danger right now? Gold Experience seemed completely content though, and he usually got some sort of feeling from his Stand when danger was lurking.
It was far more likely that whoever had sent that note had simply lost their nerve.
"Can I start you with a glass of wine, signorina?"
"That would be lovely, thank you."
The familiar voice caught Giorno by surprise and he turned to see Trish sitting at the small table behind him.
"Trish?" he asked, admittedly shocked. "What are you doing here?"
She turned, blinking briefly, before her expression turned into a smile. "Just looking after you, of course. In case it turns out to be an assassin or something."
Giorno stared at her. "Oh, well…you didn't have to do that," he said lamely.
She let out a soft laugh. "I know. Don't worry about it. No one's shown up yet?"
"No," Giorno replied quickly, still looking around. It was already half-past eight at this point.
"Maybe she's late."
"Maybe."
There was another long stretch of silence, the minutes crawling by, before he turned back to Trish.
"I don't think anyone is coming, do you?"
"Maybe she got cold feet," Trish replied, setting down her menu.
Giorno sighed and stood. "Fine by me. I didn't want to come anyway."
"Giorno," Trish said, rising from her seat to follow him. He noticed for the first time that she was wearing a dark pink evening dress under her overcoat. "We're already here and neither of us have eaten. I have to be at the train station in two hours. What do you say we have dinner before I have to leave?"
Giorno relaxed slightly and smiled. "That sounds good."
They made their way to the entrance of the restaurant and were quickly seated despite the packed dining room. Complimentary wine was brought and Giorno and Trish both ordered their food.
"So how long will you be in Rome for?" Giorno asked.
"Oh, a few days. The show starts tomorrow but a lot of the designers will have their own showcases after that and on the last day there's a workshop where people will be able to pitch their own designs."
Giorno smiled, knowing how much Trish had wanted to get into fashion. "Were you able to finish your portfolio in time?"
"Put it together, yes, but I'm still not sure about it, honestly," Trish said with a wistful sigh. "But I'm really just looking for some feedback. See where I can improve."
Their food arrived and they fell into companionable silence, only broken by appreciative comments on the dishes and a few shared bites.
As they finished their food and drank some more wine, Giorno realized that he was actually having a good time. It was refreshing to get out of the house every once in a while, and though he loved his family, getting to spend some one-on-one time with Trish was nice. He definitely could say he was enjoying this a lot better than if he had been spending the night with whoever the secret admirer was. Having to come up with awkward questions to keep a conversation going.
They were halfway through dessert when he caught Trish looking longingly toward the dance floor. Giorno almost made the offer, but wasn't sure how she would take it, and, honestly, he hadn't danced since Bruno and Maria's wedding.
Trish glanced at her watch and Giorno bit his lip.
"Do you…need to leave?" he asked, feeling just slightly disappointed.
"I still have time," Trish said and stood, reaching out to take his hand. "So…will you dance with me, Giorno?"
"I…" His voice trailed off and he stood almost automatically, setting his hand in hers. "Of course."
Trish beamed and led him out to the dancefloor where a waltz was starting to play.
It took a little coaxing from Trish for him to get into the right position, but soon he was framing her elegantly with his arms and the two of them were somehow gliding across the floor in time to the music.
"I'm sorry your date never showed up," Trish told him as they danced between other couples.
"It's all right," Giorno admitted. "It probably would have just been awkward."
And holding Trish on the dance floor was a lot more enjoyable then a stranger.
But soon enough the dance ended and they left the floor, Trish pulling away, her fingers lingering in his just the slightest bit too long before they headed back to their table.
"I really should get to the station. My train will be leaving soon," Trish told him. "Can you drive me?"
"Of course. But didn't you—"
"Fugo drove me here. He had to run out and get something last minute."
Giorno frowned a little, briefly wondering how Trish had planned to get to the station in the first place, but they collected their coats and headed out to the car.
The streets were busy and they cut it a little close when they got to the station.
"Thanks for the ride," Trish told him as she got out of the car.
"Let me see you off." Giorno told her.
Trish smiled, and held out her hand. "Can I have your keys?"
Giorno handed them over with a small frown and watched as Trish opened the trunk, pulling out her suitcase before handing them back to him.
"Thanks," she said and the two made their way toward the platform where the passengers were already boarding.
"I should go," Trish told him, pulling her ticket out of her pocket.
"Trish," Giorno called her back and she looked up at him, expectantly. He paused briefly before he said. "Thanks for showing up tonight. I would have rather been with someone I know. You're a good friend."
Her expression wavered just so slightly, before she renewed her smile. "Always happy to help." She then stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the cheek. "See you in a few days, GioGio."
She turned hurriedly and boarded the train.
Giorno watched to make sure she got on all right before he reached for the keys in his pocket.
He frowned as he looked at them, recalling a few minutes earlier when Trish had asked him for them. When had she put her luggage in his car?
And that was when it hit him like a ton of bricks.
"Oh god," Giorno muttered, his entire being sinking and rising at the same time. "You idiot. You stupid, stupid, idiot."
The train whistle blew, deafening him for a second, but he swiftly yanked the pink letter from his pocket along with a pen and scribbled something on the backside of it. He looked around, not sure what he was looking for, before he simply tugged one of his ladybug cufflinks from his sleeve and wrapped it in the paper.
Gold Experience turned it into a butterfly that flew swiftly after the departing train.
Giorno could only watch as it left the station, unable to fathom just how stupid he had been.
He watched the train disappear until it was long invisible then finally turned back toward his car, hands shoved deep into his pockets.
The house was mostly dark by the time he got home, and only Bucciarati and Maria were still up, watching some romantic comedy in the living room.
"Giorno?" Maria called, catching sight of him as he made his way to the stairs. She and Bruno looked at him expectantly. "How did it go?"
Giorno sighed heavily and lingered at the bottom of the stairs. "I'm an idiot," he said before leaving for his room.
He yanked his coat off and kicked his shoes into the corner before flopping on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Just how badly could one man screw up? He might be able to see through a plot to dethrone him from his position as Don, but when it came to someone who cared about him—who he cared about in return—apparently he was the stupidest man ever to live.
There was a knock on the door and Giorno groaned noncommittally, only to have it open, revealing Fugo, Narancia and Mista, the first holding a plate of pastries, the second holding what looked like cocoa.
Giorno craned his head up half-heartedly, watching them come inside. "You were all in on it," he realized. Which now made a hell of a lot more sense as to why Fugo and Bucciarati hadn't been worried or suspicious about such a strange note.
"Of course," Mista said. "We wanted Trish to have the best wingmen possible."
Giorno groaned louder and fell back on the bed, throwing an arm over his eyes.
The three sat around him. Fugo placed the plate in the center of his chest. "It's okay, we knew this was how it was going to go. So did Trish."
"If it makes you feel any better, I had confidence in you," Narancia said with a grin as he grabbed one of the pastries from the plate. "Now I owe Fugo twenty lira."
Giorno rubbed his face. "I screwed up."
"No," Mista insisted, giving his stomach a friendly pat. "Trish will forgive you, I promise."
"But if you don't talk to her the second she gets back…" Fugo said, taking the plate away from him again. "I'm never making pastries for you again."
Giorno sat up and took the plate and cocoa. "I will. As soon as she gets back. And I made sure she knows that too."
Trish was shown to her seat on the train and sank down heavily, trying to fight back the disappointment.
Part of her had really hoped that Giorno would realize—how much more obvious could she have been? But…maybe he had and just didn't see her that way after all.
She could deal with that. It wasn't like it would change much between them. Better to know now before she got her hopes up too much.
A flash of color caught her eye and she glanced toward the window.
Her eyes flew open as she saw a butterfly holding onto the window frame, the wind tearing at its wings, threatening to blow it off.
Trish hurriedly opened the window, letting the insect fly inside to settle into her hand.
The instant it touched her palm, it transformed into a ball of pink paper.
Hope surging through her, Trish unwrapped it with shaky hands, finding hastily scrawled words and a ladybug cufflink inside.
She held her breath as she read the words written within the letter.
My Dearest Trish,
Please accept this humble token as an apology from a very foolish man. If you will still have me, I wish to take you out for a proper dinner when you get back home. Let's go together this time.
Sincerely, Your Fool
"Oh Giorno," Trish whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes as she was unable to help the smile that spread across her face. She wiped her eyes and threaded the cufflink through the slim golden chain she was wearing around her neck.
She looked out the window. "Of course I'll have you, you lovely, darling idiot," she whispered, feeling the ladybug nestle against her heart. "Happy Valentine's Day."