<maybe kinda spoilers for pt.5 character personalities? Basically none.>
Fugo thought he'd seen the most beautiful thing in the world already, he was wrong.
Crack treated VERY VERY seriously.
Giorno was an angel. He always had been. His golden curls resemble an angle's flowing strands. His eyes sparkle like a thousand diamonds. If you looked at Giorno basking in the sun like some kind of overgrown cat, you might even see a halo upon his head. In the clearest truth, Giorno belonged on a church window.
Fugo thought he'd seen Giorno at his most beautiful. He'd thought that every morning when Giorno would walk through a garden of literal roses; flowers blooming at his feet, the sun shining on his slightly windswept hair, the blazing colors of dawn behind him, Fugo thought that was when Giorno was the most beautiful.
I mean for heaven's sake, even the spiders would spin elaborate webs, so intricate they could pass for museum art, gleaming with new morning dew, and all to try and impress Giorno.
Well fuck was Fugo wrong.
He had no Idea how he was here, or even why he was here. Mista had simply grabbed his and Sheila's arms, and ran them both to some open-roofed crumbling down opera house that Fugo didn't even know the existence of. Vines and moss crept along the abandoned building, squirrels and mice ran about, and birds perched on the high crumbled rafters. Every row of seats was empty, but the stage wasn't.
Fugo didn't know what was going on—but he did know one thing for certain. This was undoubtedly, unquestionably, as certain as 16 x 55 equaling 28, (Wait, no, Fugo felt there was something wrong with that statement, but had no mind to dwell on it.) this was the single most beautiful thing in the history of the entire word.
That's right, along with Mista and Sheila, Fugo was watching Giorno do ballet.
Upon a stage blooming with morning glory vines, their flowers in full dawn bloom, Giorno danced ballet.
There was no music, but due to the sheer glory of Giorno hypnotically raising and flowing and swishing his arms around with the elegance of a swan, doing twirls and jumps and leaps, and bounds and everything ballet-related—Fugo, Mista, and Sheila could all hear the elegant music of angel trumpets as this pristine, angelic sight graced their puny mortal eyes.
Watching Giorno twirl and spin in those bright hot pink instead of royal blue (for some reason) high tip-shoes, with an elegant, flowing, almost butterfly-like suit....The sight alone was enough to bleach the trio and wash away all their sins. Sheila began thinking of becoming a nun and preaching the word of Giorno.
It was about then that the birds started singing, and suddenly a band of parrots and nightingales emerged from the rafters. The parrots began to sing a chorus of; "Angel! Angel! Angel!" as the nightingales provided the instrumentals in the form of a beautiful symphony of voices.
And upon the ground squirrels, rats, raccoons, even insects paused what they were doing to clap and shouts and be in awe of the wondrous gift from heavens above, known as the Angel Giorno Giovanna.
The skies themselves decided to shine only sun and hold off the rain today, flowers bloomed in desire to see Giorno, even the ones that only bloom in the night. The entire solar system slowed to see Giorno.
Then, the angel, slowed, doing a few more sweeping, breathtaking, absolutely stunning movements, he slowed. His golden curls catching the sun, then slowly settled down his back, framing the angel's porcelain face like the frame to a renaissance painting.
In that moment, as Giorno's sapphire eyes were more beautiful than any sight, and you could see the bright golden feathers tucked tightly in place behind him, and his halo shone more brilliantly than the sun, the entire world celebrated.
"Guys," His soft melodic voice was fit for a lullaby, it seemed straight from heaven. "it's a nice morning isn't it? I find the morning glories here particularly beautiful." At that moment every morning glory in the area fainted from the sheer joy that filled their hearts.
Fugo's heart beat out of his chest, and he was left breathless. Surely, Giorno must be a creature straight from heaven, an angel if you will.
I don't even know.