His heart rate slowing, his teeth chattering hard, his body numbing and aching. All of it was unbearable. He hoped with every fibre of his being that he was wrong, but at this point, Ghiacccio knew he was going to die. If that wasn’t bad enough already, it seemed the ice was determined to prolong the event and make the last of his time alive as agonizing as it could. He tilted his head back, taking in trembling gasps of air. He counted the seconds as the ice rose up to his mouth, slowly creeping into the opening. His fear became relief when he noticed Giorno entering his vision.

“Please!” Ghiachio’s voice shook with pure desperation. He’d never felt so vulnerable. Giorno locked eyes with him, and he couldn’t see it, but somehow, Giorno was getting the ice to melt away. Just as miraculously, no new ice was forming. Ghiaccio found that he was involuntarily panting. He could feel his heartrade rising back to normal and his clothing became wet. The ice now fully melted, Giacchio abandoned his pride and let his trembling body fall onto Giorno, wrapping his arms around the young boy.

“Don’t thank me. I shouldn't have done this. Saving your life has put a lot at jeopardy.”

“Shut up…”

“Huh?” Giorno was caught off guard by the unfamiliar tone in the man's voice.

“I SAID SHUT UP!” Ghiaccio tensed, “I don’t care anymore…I-I DON’T CARE! You…s-saved my life and…Fuck…I’ve lost control of White Album anyways…so…so I won’t work against you anymore…” he sounded defeated, almost miserable. Giorno calculated a response, but before he could say anything, he noticed the man in his arms gripping his clothing tightly as his body lurched. The man's glasses pressed uncomfortably hard into him and he felt warmth where his face had been buried. This was accompanied by some muffled grunting sounds that took Giorno a moment to recognize as sobs. The sobs were very choked and came out in small spurts. It was obvious that Ghiaccio wasn’t fully letting go. He didn’t want to. Unsure of what to do next, Giorno began rubbing the back of his former enemy in slow and soothing motions. Ghiaccio paused. He’d never been treated so tenderly before...Something about this broke him. He just couldn’t hold back any more and began sobbing hard against the young man, cursing between gasps.

“It’s…” Giorno hesitated, “It’s alright. Just let it out.” he kept rubbing his back until he’d finished crying. Giorno then felt himself being pushed away.

“What a waste of fucking time…I’m probably going to die when you leave anyways. I just made myself look like a dumbass crybaby! And what for?!” Ghiaccio looked away. He was still trembling and pink-faced from the cold, but one could still pick up on his embarrassment.


“I’m not going to leave you like this,” Giorno gulped at his own words. Doubt began weighing on him. Was abandoning the others for the sake of his enemy really worth it? Of course, it was too late to consider this. He’d said what he’d said. He saw the older man giving him a look of disbelief.

“You’re fucking with me!”

“I’m not. I want to help. I don’t think I’d be able to sleep if I just left you here to die at your own stand.” Giorno waited for a response, but Ghiaccio had nothing more to say. The older man simply scoffed and averted his eyes, his expression blank and unreadable.

========

Ghiaccio still hadn’t spoken for a while. He’d been wrapped up in a heavy blanket, Giorno keeping a close eye on him. Ghiaccio felt like a child. Somehow, he was more vulnerable now than when he was about to be frozen to death. Giorno was hesitant to say anything until he noticed a change in the man's composure. He had curled up a bit, the look of frustration growing on his face.

“Is something wrong?” Giorno asked this in a monotone voice to avoid giving him the wrong idea.

“...” he received a glare.

“What is it?”

“...hungry…” the response was forced and barely audible. Ghiaccio refused to look at Giorno. That’s why he was surprised when he felt something small and round pressed against his lips. He pulled back and snapped his head in Giorno's direction. The boy was holding a large vine of shiny dark grapes. The sight made his mouth water. It must have been a grape that he’d felt on his lips. That meant…

“Were you just trying to *hand-feed* me!? I’m not your fucking pet! I can eat on my own, damnit!” Ghiaccio gritted his teeth.

“Sorry. I guess I got ahead of myself” he held out the vine. The older of the two plucked a grape from the bundle and, due to his shaking, still numb hand, dropped it. He let out a frustrated grunt.

“You know what? Fuck it. You do it! I’m tired anyway…” With that, Giorno held a grape up to Ghiaccios mouth. His lips slowly parted. Averting his eyes, he took the grape between his teeth and chewed on it. It was sweeter than any grape he’d ever eaten before. Ghiaccio closed his eyes and let out a small contented hum, “more…” he mumbled.

“Huh? What was that?!”

“GIVE ME MORE, YOU DIMWIT!! I’M FUCKING STARVING HERE!”

“I’m going to give you a handful, so open up.”

“!!” Ghiaccios mouth hung open and, with his hand, Giorno poured more grapes into it. The man ate with haste, a pleased grunt escaping him. Giorno smiled.

“Are they good?”

“What does that matter to you? I’m hungry, so I'm eating.”

“I’m glad you enjoy them.”

“...” Ghiaccio could only blush.