F L Y ☆ A W A Y

How do you tell someone you hate their guts?

Just kidding. It’s quite the opposite… Fugo’s palms were drenched in sweat, but it was indistinguishable whether he hadn’t recovered from his fit or he was just nervous. Who thought the person he rescued years ago would become the object of his fancy? Narancia was scruffy, hot-blooded, noisy, even uncultured—  but that only gave Fugo all the more reason to protect him— he was delicate, fragile, emotional!

Even so, Fugo manages to step on his nerves often. Klutz! All he could do now was ameliorate the situation… time and time again. "I’m fine. I’m not dying," half true statement. The boy could definitely get worse given time, weather, mental state, quality of food, amount of fluids taken… "I’m… fine, Narancia." A reassuring smile.

It was a terrible feeling.

With his outburst aside, Narancia struggled to fully grasp the meaning of Fugo's words. ... He was fine? Well, that sure was a relief. Narancia was well known for his wild over-reactions, after all. He let out a sigh, shaking his head as hs gaze lifted to be met with a smile. .. A smile that was meant for him.

Paired with encouraging words, hints that his mere presence gave Pannacotta Fugo long-needed peace... it was a captivating feeling that would raise Narancia's spirits after a low that had lasted months.

Or, it could be the nastiest, sappiest thing that he's ever heard.

"... Dude. What the fuck. That's so gay? You're so gay? Why are you being so gay? I don't get it. Are you like... really sick? Because you're not usually this gay."

Fugo couldn’t help but heave a sigh, noticing how badly he’d made Narancia worry. "You’re awfully overdressed," he remarks lightly, even though he felt anything but. Feeling it was in bad taste, he narrows his gaze. "Sorry for waking you up so late." 

That’s right, he was guilty. Default emotion by now.

He made the elder worry about him all the time, right? God. This wasn’t any different.

"I’m sick," admitedly, he could have said it in a better way, but— "I… we need to talk." 

"... Sick...?" ... What was that supposed to mean? Fugo wouldn't make this big of a deal over something like the common cold, right? So what kind of sick was Pannacotta Fugo? "... Hey, quit joking like that, you can't be sick..."

Months of frustration would find itself crawling to form a lump in his throat, a sting in his eyes. Why now...? Why now, when things were supposed to be getting better?! "S-Shut up! You... we just made up, things were gonna be okay! And now you're telling me that you're sick?! It's not fair!! Vaffanculo!! This better be some common cold shit, because... I..."

Waterdrops cascade down one particular sink in the quiet of room 119.

Fugo was just washing down his shame, so to speak. Keeping lunch down has been fairly difficult as of late. No longer was the reason anxiety, but simply poor health in general. He’d been quite sickly ever since he’d arrived, but it was never this bad. His condition had taken a turn for the worse ever since he’d miscalculated that one time— perhaps it was due to the fact Fugo suddenly binged on every single food he would usually gag at… who even knew.

He was hungry, demons clawing the pits of his stomach for food to upchuck once more. But it was all fruitless as he knew what would happen. Changing mindset only guided the boy to further worry and dread. Pearching his hands, over his mouth, nose, his entire face— even breathing had become laboring, but at this volatile time he had one answer left. Through pathetic tears, coughing, sputtering— lie the light at the end of the cave.

              Narancia.

Maybe it was time to tell him

                                         about his little “condition”, or “feelings” even if he

                                         didn’t know what they were.

from: fugo to: narancia

[TXT]: come to my room asap

[TXT]: right now

It had only been just a few days since the orange had reconnected with the boy that he called his best friend. After what seemed like an eternity of hiding from his insecurities relating to the long-passed death of Pannacotta Fugo... he finally felt at ease.

Not for long, of course. Not here. Anywhere but here.

It was the middle of the night when Narancia had felt his phone buzz. With a groggy sigh, his small frame would roll over, squinting at a plea from a friend. ... Right now? What was...

Shit.

His pace was, as requested, hasty. No reply was given over the messenger as he slipped out of bed. Hell, he didn't really even change into suitable clothing. Wearing his boxers and a nervous heart, Narancia would saunter through the halls until he reached the room of interest.

119. A hesitant knock.

                          ——— ★ The Cinema. A rare event of Giorno’s childhood; after all,                                       why would a man whose wrath showed no bounds towards                                       a defenseless youth, or a woman who barely showed him                                       a lick of affection ever take time out of their day to bring                                       him to the movies? Even when he did attend a showing,                                       the seats never failed to be packed with the bodies of youths,                                       who bullied him from whatever ticket he had before he managed                                       to even enter the building. Though all of that did change with                                       that fateful day. Lips twitched upward into a small smile as he                                       walked in the direction of the building labelled ‘Theatre’,                                       recalling warm, most certainly genuine memories of the                                       gangster who inspired him to become the youngest boss of                                       Passione there ever was. He quickly stirred from those                                        thoughts, however, as he approached the doors, dialogue                                       and soundtrack from a pre-recorded reel playing so loudly                                       that he could hear it from outside. A film had already begun.

                          ——— ★ Giorno pushed open the doors, a vision of what awaited                                       him already clear in mind. The packed theatre of his youth,                                       heads turning his way at the sudden flood of exterior light.                                       A heartbeat of hesitation, then a small crowd of people at                                       his side, eager to give up their seats to the boy with gang                                       connections. But this vision was exactly what it was: a                                       vision. In reality, the blond’s eyes met with row upon row                                       of empty seating. An invisible audience to watch the                                       unfamiliar cinematic masterpiece on stage.

What mattered to Narancia right now, however, was that Levi Ackerman was safe, now. In the care of the man who had sparked all of this mess. For some reason, he found himself hoping their paths would cross again. The man had a certain air to him, one that was easy to follow...

But he was not the only one.

Giorno Giovanna had been his name. His charisma was nearly inhuman, and he had taken their small family by pure force. Was it fair, he wondered, for events to be played out like they were? Narancia wasn't sure, and yet... he still looked up to the blond, despite his youth. How odd.

To recoup from the recent events, among others, Narancia would find himself in the academy's theater, watching an action movie. He couldn't help but think about how boring it was, honestly, as he was just simply not one for cinematic appreciation. One thing that would make him curious, however, was the sound of someone walking in just at the end of the screening. Watching the figure sit at the end of his row... he simply couldn't pay attention to the movie any longer. The moments the lights flickered on, albeit dimly, he found him taking in a sharp breath.

... Giorno...

Wow. Look at all these kids flocking to the infirmary. Better watch out for the man still confined to his cot (the burns on his chest would be paining like a bitch for a long, long time), whose eyes are still locked on a television screen mounted to the wall. The Gnome game recap has since finished, but he can still see himself burning alive while the bear talks over his screaming like some kind of insane sports announcer.

Dean.

Maybe he should get over himself, he thought. Sulking wasn't going to do anything, was it? That's why, after hours of second-guessing, hours of doubt, he found himself moving through the infirmary, looking for a single patient in particular. Eventually, Narancia would find that man, watching his own demise. He stood for a moment, unsure of what to say. Could he do anything? Anything at all...?!

Desperation and anxieties would pool in Narancia once more, encouraging an action that, in all due respect, was an awful idea. If the hunter didn't know that Narancia was there before, then his presence would surely be announced by his hand gripping a vase that rested on the table next to him. A yell ripped from Narancia's throat as he swung the still-filled ceramic at the screen, damaging its image before water would encourage the image to warp. Dean Winchester was still on the screen, but...

to; narancia twink(a)

from; fugo

i lied. sorry. still have a hole in my abdomen, though dont apologize... i have my reasons for doing this i honestly dont know whether you understand or not but i think this is necessary quite a few people believe me already and im sure theyll be "on the lookout" for "evil murderous vampires" again im sorry and your. probably going to get mad at me

If he failed to do something in this moment, the night time he saw Fugo... he might not actually be Fugo.  If that happened...

to;; fugo from;; narancia

.... just hang tight ok? im gonna make sure everythings ok i cant do much but ill do something dont worry

to; narancia twink(a)

from; fugo

are you serious? do you think id joke or lie about being stabbed? wow. thank you so much narancia. THANK YOU. really.

no fugo its not like that fugo wait

i didnt mean 2 call u a liar ok?  it just dosnt make sense 2 me it dosnt add up...

to; narancia twink(a)

from; fugo

... u do?? but... regie wudnt snap like that... he didnt even snap when he betrayed us...

... Was he...?

to;; fugo from;; narancia

to; narancia twink(a)

from; fugo

to;; swiss cheese thongman from;; young money $$$$$ ghirga

yeah i no he betrayed us and everithing and it sucked but u and me both no he wuldnt just attack sum1 like that  fugo

to; everyone

from; fugo

ATTACHMENT: ASSAULT WEAPON

to;; swiss cheese thongman from;; young money $$$$$ ghirga

It reflected in most of his actions since this tragedy began— he went to extremes in his plans, his reactions, just about everything. He didn’t mind blaming himself for things that were out of his control, either. Being away from the air that the mafia embed had rendered him much too reckless… Too reckless for his own good. 

Fugo mumbled something in protest, but Narancia had a point. Or so he felt. He had no idea how to apologize for what he’d said, not in words. He simply reached for the elder’s hand and held it gingerly, in fear of inflicting harm.

Narancia, though battered, was a determined soul. Even after death had graced him with a visit not once, but twice, the orange simply couldn't stop here. Through death and betrayal, Narancia would try again to raise the younger's spirits.

He was the older one, after all. Wasn't that his job?

The youth paused for a moment at the gentle touch curling around his hand, only to wear a small smile as his own fingers curled around his companion's. Though every joint, every bone, every inch of skin burned with pain, this action would be one that brought Narancia comfort, comfort that he wished to share with his friend a hundred times over.

“Crybaby... hey...” Did he really have room to say that? He, too, felt tears stinging at his eyes. Even then... “I don't wanna be here anymore than you do... but we'll get out, okay? We'll find some way, even if we're on our own. Just you and me, we can do anything, right...? We're too tough for limits...!”

The same guilt that now prompted her not to fight back. Narancia was hurt. He didn’t need to be hurt any further. “I’m not going to fight you.” Despite his yelling, Mami continued to speak in that soft calm tone. “Hit me until it makes you feel better if that’s what you need. I deserve it.” Ah. He thought she was faking. “I do care. If I didn’t care I would not have decided to speak to you.”

What could she say? He was right. He had believed in her and she’d betrayed him. Noting the way he sweated as his body trembled, Mami felt a pang of sympathy in her heart. She was the one who’d done this to him. Without even bothering to attempt to get out of his hold, Mami gazed up at Narancia with little more than a sad smile on her lips. Ah. No one but his family. That meant…

Mami’s hands folded in her lap. Of course. How could someone like her be family after that? She was disgusting. A traitor. Better off dead. “Ghirga-san, you’re not stupid. You’re correct. A person like me should remain alone. After all…” Another sad smile. Finally, Mami dropped her gaze from his own. “I’m not really a champion of justice. I’m not a calm-minded mentor who can operate independently. I’m just a scared girl who hurts everyone around her. I’m a burden, someone who plays at being strong so people won’t hate me. But that didn’t turn out well, did it?”

A rueful smile showed itself briefly before Mami blinked back tears. “Someone like me doesn’t deserve a family or friends. Ghirga-san should seek out people who won’t put him in harm’s way anymore. If you stay around me, you’ll only get hurt. I want Ghirga-san to be safe and happy. You won’t be able to be such things around me. I only ever hurt the people I…” Mami’s voice grew tight, forcing her to stop. It was her fault he’d died. It was her fault their little ‘family’ had been torn apart. It was her fault her parents died while she lived.

Absolutely not.

As her words reached him, there was a realization that Narancia made, one that stung more than anything else. What Mami was saying, the way she seemingly gave up... it reminded her of someone. Someone very specifically. He hesitated, his grip on the fabric of Mami's collar finally vanishing. Should he... should he believe her? The look on her face, the way she was... it wasn't the look of someone who wanted to hurt him anymore. With a nervous gulp, Narancia let his hands rest on Mami's shoulders, opening his mouth to speak with a tone that carried his emotions. Scared, and confused, Narancia spoke up at last.

“... I-I... I knew... someone, w-who...” Shit. He needs to calm down before he goes on. The youth swallowed, his grip tightening as he looked down to avoid Mami's gaze.

“Their mom... she died when he was little, but old enough to know what happened. S-She died of an eye disease, and his dad... his dad thought he was a burden, he didn't love him, so... he turned to the streets. He stayed at friends houses, stole food for dinner, and... he had a really good friend. He told his friend everything about him, and he really trusted him-- so one day, his friend told him to dye his hair. He did, but then he got arrested. They said he broke into a house and beat an old man, so they sentenced him to Juvenile Detention. For a while, he thought, 'maybe my friend did this,' but... he couldn't bring himself to believe that, so he dropped it.”

He should have stopped there, honestly. But would she get the point if he did? He honestly couldn't control himself, the words poured from his mouth like tap water, unable to stop unless forced. He drew in another shaky breath, before he decided to continue, albeit quietly.

“The guards... they really hated him, since he never said anything about his crime, so... they beat him up a lot. Especially his eye. When he got out, he had a really bad disease that was going to kill him. Everyone started saying that... h-he got the disease from... his mom. They stayed away from him, scared that they'd catch it too...!”

Tears stung at his eyes now, and he finally pulled away from the girl to rub at his eyes, cringing at the pain that such an action brought. He had to finish this. For her. “B-but... he had only told... his good friend about his mom's disease! He realized that his friend did do all that-- a-and... he gave up! He was just gonna let his eye disease kill him, he thought he was gonna see his mom again, a-and... he thought he was all alone!"