The very first time Giorno had met you, he'd recognized you instantly.

It had been a visceral reaction, a tumult of emotions hidden behind a polite smile and carefully chosen words. His heart had pounded against its cage of flesh and bones, as if aching to escape its confines and entwine itself with yours.

He'd always pondered what his mother looked like. A stern faced woman, with etched lines of wisdom and greying hair? Perhaps a young, spirited soul full of laughter. You were beyond what his imagination could muster, but there was no doubt in his mind of your identity.

You hadn't recognized him, of course. From the bleak eyed and dark haired baby he had once been, to this charismatic, golden young man, Giorno looked nothing alike the boy that had once been yours. He often wondered what circumstances had brought you to part ways with him, possibilities endless.

Dusk. Like clockwork, Giorno left his abode, strolling the streets of Naples to the market of Pignasecca, where he was sure to find you once more. Walking the now familiar path, he continued until his emerald green gaze settled on a stall, a puny selection of homegrown vegetables displayed, as you picked up your wares to head home for the evening.

Engrossed in your work, your gaze had landed on the gentle, yet strong boyish hands in front of you, helping you in tidying up. You didn't need to look up to know the kind young man you'd met recently was conveniently back once more to aid you in closing up shop.

His gaze was warm as he looked down at you, belying a fondness that would seem perhaps surreal considering how ill acquainted you two were, briefly flickering to the usually lively and bustling market, now deserted. "You close up shop much too late, signora. I'm afraid the strays aren't very good customers," he spoke, his voice warm and sweet like the purest of honey, the paved streets now devoid of any life apart from a few stray cats.