#naramis week

The first time Narancia meets Mista, he almost runs him over.

He didn’t mean it at all! It was that all three of them were running late, Abbacchio having left the house in a hurry, driving in a way no self-respecting police officer should drive. All three of them had slept pass their alarm and the only reason they were awake was by the sole fact that Fugo had yelled a curse out loud, startling him and Abbacchio awake. Class started at 7:20 and to say they were running late was an understatement. They had ten minutes to get the school, and by god will Narancia get them there on time, traffic laws and the usual twenty-five-minute drive it took to get there be damned.

Let it be known that Narancia doesn’t usually (read: ever) drive. Driving was left up to Fugo, who while prone to a severe case of road rage, is quite the good driver. The only reason that Narancia was driving that instant was because of Fugo not being able to find his license. Leaving Narancia to be the driver for the day. Something Narancia hated six minutes later, four minutes to go before the two were officially late.

Narancia was gunning down the road, definitely over the speed limit when he notices two figures starting to cross the road. Fugo shouts and Narancia curses, slamming the breaks. He probably would’ve hit the taller of the three were it not for the other two quickly pulling the other back and out of the way. The group of five stared at each other, shocked and a little terrified at what had almost occurred before the girl of the group recovered and threw them the nastiest glare either of the boys had ever seen.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going! You couldn’t have almost killed him!” she shouted, anger making her frame tense. Narancia gulped. Man, she is terrifying. She turned to her companions, a blonde kid and the guy with the beanie. “Are you okay? That idiot didn’t manage to clip you right?” she asked, another poisonous glare thrown at them. The taller of the boys nodded, releasing a shaky breath.

“Yeah, yeah, no, I’m fine! Just a close one,” he laughed weakly, glancing at Fugo and him. Narancia felt himself dying of embarrassment. Before either of them could open their mouth to apologize, the blond in the back pipped up.

“We have two minutes left. We got to go,” the other two cursed and the trio ran off towards the school. Narancia and Fugo stared after them for a solid minute, before Fugo broke the silence.

“You… are never allowed to drive again…” he said slowly, staring after the group as they entered the building. Narancia nodded.

“Agreed,”

They got there late. Fugo flicked him upside the head as they ran down the hallway, dipping into a classroom on his way. Narancia grimaced and picked up his pace. Maybe Risotto hadn’t shown up? He kept that hope as he turned and ran to his classroom almost slamming into the door. He throws it in, heaving only to have the whole class and Risotto stare at him. So much for that dream. Risotto raised a thin white eyebrow.

“Sorry…” he heaved, still searching for air. The teacher just rolled his eyes and gestured to the last open chair, that happened to be with the last person Narancia wanted to see right now. He wasn’t sure what god he pissed off that lovely Tuesday morning but damn it if karma wasn’t helping them. Sitting in the desk at the back was the dude with the beanie. The one he almost ran over.

Narancia didn’t know if he should laugh or just cry at this point.

“Narancia, if you would please take a seat over there next to Guido so I can continue the lesson you rudely interrupted? Thank you,” the man said, a little exasperated.

“Sorry, sir,”

“Don’t let it happen again,”

Narancia felt dread as he walked to the back of the room. The boy didn’t notice he was there until he pulled the chair, the legs scraping against the scratched linoleum, causing the other (Guido, his brain supplies) to jump in his seat, startled. He can hear a sigh from the teacher. Oops. It’s not even eight yet and this might just be one of the most horrifying and embarrassing days of his life. Must be a new record. Guido stares at him, surprised as he sits down, before turning back to his doodling. Narancia tries to ignore the haunting situation he finds himself in. He tries to focus on the lecture but he couldn’t care less about the difference between a Shakespearean and Petrarchan sonnet, and so his eyes begin to drift. They end up landing on Guido.

The other boy was taller than him and seemed a bit more muscular. He wore a purple beanie and a striped baggy shirt. He could see some curls peeking out from beneath his hat. He had long lashes and the darkest eyes he’s ever seen. He was focused on his doodling, brows slightly furrowed and tongue peeking out slightly.  Narancia glanced and saw he was doodling flowers, different kinds. Narancia didn’t know much about flowers but the little drawings were pretty nice. He noticed a bundle of roses, what was probably a daisy, a tulip, among others. It was pretty cute. He was pretty cute. Dear God, he almost ran over the cute boy in his literature class who draws flowers. The situation had been present in his mind, yes, but it hadn’t quite sunk in that 1) the almost-victim of the vehicular manslaughter he almost committed is just his type and 2) he would have to see him every other day for the rest of the school year.

Narancia groaned and put his head on his desk. Quite possibly the worst day of his life. He can already imagine Fugo’s sadistic glee at seeing him suffer like this. He felt a soft tap at his head, he groaned. He didn’t even care if it was his teacher, he just needed to suffer for five minutes an then he’ll be somewhat okay. The tapping returned, just a little more prodding, and that’s when Narancia noticed that the tapping was coming from his other side. He felt mortification engulf him as if he was thrown into a lake. He snapped his head up quicker than he thought, headbutting Guido, who had leaned in a little closer than he expected. The other boy hissed in pain, hands shooting up to cover his nose. Narancia cursed, having slammed his knee with his desk when he jumped up.

“Narancia, how many times will I have to call you attention in this class?” Risotto approached them, voice tired. The whole class stared at the two of them, not that Narancia noticed as he was too busy looking at Guido horrified. The other’s nose had started bleeding. The older man turned to look at Guido holding his nose and Narancia’s hand rubbing his bruised leg and sighed.

“Both of you go to the nurse’s office,”

Narancia couldn’t even reply, he felt horrified. Guido nodded and began to stand up, spurring Narancia into action. He winced at the pain in his leg.

“Thank you, R-Mr. Nero,” he said, quickly before whispering, “You think you can not mention this to Abbacchio?”

“Not a chance.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

He and Guido left the room, Narancia making sure there was enough distance between the two. He didn’t want to trip Guido or anything, because knowing his luck, he might just break the other’s arm or something. In moments like this, he was glad Fugo wasn’t around. He thinks his brother would have just died of laughter at the hole Narancia’s dug himself in. It was kind of pathetic.

“Hey, uh… Narancia, was it? Can we stop by the bathroom? I could use a napkin… or two for, you know,” Guido said, gesturing to his nose. His voice sounded a bit nasally from the pressure he was putting on his nose, blood dripping from his nose through the cracks in his fingers and down his chin. Oh, yeah. That would’ve been smart. Great thinking Narancia.

“Y-Yeah! Of course!” Narancia was never going to leave the house ever again, education be damned.

After a quick detour to the bathroom, they arrived at the nurse’s office. She gave an ice pack to Narancia to keep the swelling down and gave some cotton balls soaked in alcohol to Guido. The two sat next to each other, Guido’s head tilted back, and Narancia fighting not to bounce his injured leg. The silence felt oppressive to him.

Just talk to him, introduce yourself to him. ‘Hey, I’m sorry for almost hitting you with my car and for headbutting you!’ Easy, you got this!

“You should look both ways when you cross.” What the fuck. Guido gave him an incredulous look.

“Are you serious?” Why was he built like this?

“T-That’s not what I meant! I really really did not mean for that to come out?” He panicked, flailing his arms around. This is officially the worst day of his life. “I meant to say sorry! For almost hitting you with my car! This morning! Hi, I’m Narancia! Also sorry for headbutting you! It’s just not been my day and I was speeding and your name is Guido isn’t it? That’s a nice name! Uh, anyways! I’m sorry for um almost killing you? God, that’s horrifying. Your friend is also really scary, she terrified me and my brother. Why do I keep talking? I AM SORRY!”

Mista blinked, taken aback by the speed at which Narancia delivered his small, disjointed speech. Narancia was already choosing which kind of coffin he would like to bury himself into. He’s thinking nice mahogany, painted black. He thinks Abbacchio would like it.

Guido opened his mouth, Narancia already finalizing his testament, but was interrupted when a man with a black bob opened the door. He wore a long-sleeved loose shirt, with light washed jeans and rubber boots. His eyes swept through the room before landing on the two boys.

“Hey, Bruno…” Guido smiled sheepishly, the cotton ball still held near his nose. “Funny seeing you here,”

The man, Bruno, just stared at the other, unimpressed.

“When I told you that I was picking you guys early, it wasn’t a free pass to get sent to the nurse’s office.” Mista shrugged.

“It was an accident.” Bruno huffed, rolling his eyes. Narancia could see a soft smile grace his features.

“Sure it is. Either way, I’m glad you are okay. Let’s go wait for Trish and Giorno.” From behind the older man, Narancia catches the glimpse of a police hat and silver hair. Oh shit. Abbacchio appears behind Bruno, saying a soft excuse me, before his eyes land on Narancia. They look at each other for a solid minute. Abbacchio turns to Guido and Bruno, the latter helping pick up the former’s bag while Guido wiped the blood from his face. Abbacchio turned back to him.

“What the fuck, kid?” Narancia would like to know too.

Fugo had had a field day with this one, his adopted brother laughing for five minutes straight. Whenever the laughter would petter down, one look at Narancia would start the laughter again. Finally, Abbacchio took pity on him and put an end to it.

“Alright, Fugo, lay off. Sure he almost hit this guy with the car, ran into the class all sweaty and gross, which Risotto texted me about just so you know, and then proceeded to headbutt the same kid and bruise the hell out of his own knee in the process is funny, but you should stop teasing him about it,” the policeman said from where he was cooking the dinner for the night. Fugo cackled and Narancia slammed his head on the table.

“I hate you both,”

The idea of going to school was haunting. Even if Abbacchio let him stay home the next day, he still had to face Guido. Something he really didn’t want to do. He felt both relieved and upset that Guido wasn’t there in the first block. It wasn’t until lunch when he was sitting with Fugo, waiting for Sheila, that he got an answer. The blond kid that had been with Guido approached them. He looked at the small group before his eyes landed on Narancia. The kid looked pretty small and skinny, but he was still at least an inch taller than Narancia. Maybe he was here to fight him? He did almost run over his friend.

“You’re Narancia right?” he asked, voice devoid of emotions. Oh, yeah. Narancia’s going to get destroyed.

“Why do you ask?” Fugo questioned, sitting up a bit straighter. The blond turned to him, raising an eyebrow. Sheila approaches them, drinking a juice box.

“My brother asked me to give this to a Narancia,” he said, holding up a little box none of them have noticed. “Which surprises me, considering you guys almost ran him over with your car,” Sheila choked on her juice, turning to the blond. The blond nodded to her.

“Hey, Sheila,”

“Wait, Giorno, you’re telling me it was these idiots that almost ran over Mista?” her voice trembled with laughter as she turned to stare at the two. Fugo and Narancia grimaced. Sheila’s eyes grew bright and she laughed. “Narancia, I can’t believe you almost hit Mista with a car, and then gave him a bloody nose, this is rich.” Giorno shook his head, a smile on his lips. Narancia relaxed. If Giorno was here to beat him up on behalf of his brother, he probably wouldn’t be amused by the situation.

“Anyways, are you Narancia or not? Mista told me to give this to you. He would’ve done it himself, but he’s a bit sick,” he said, holding out the box. Narancia nodded, taking the box. Giorno hummed, then waved to Sheila before walking away. Narancia stared in wonder, opening the box and seeing a single rose with a small note tied to it. Narancia gently took the note out.

“Water under the bridge. Call me Mista.”

After the most horrifying day in his life, everything with Mista smoothed over.

Mista introduced Narancia to his younger siblings. Giorno looked at him, vaguely smug-looking, almost like a cat. Trish stared at him, almost as if searching for something. Whatever she found must have satisfied her as she smiled at him and allowed him to sit. Narancia felt slightly nervous around her. Mista’s siblings were scary, despite being only sophomores. They looked like they knew more than they let on, blue eyes peering into his soul. He shivered, glad and a little exasperated that Mista didn’t really notice.

He also introduced Mista to Fugo, who had apologized for almost running him over. Narancia was a little jealous it went over better than how his apology had gone. SHeila had already been friends with Mista and his siblings, so it was quite easy for the two of them to just sit with the others. Apparently, Trish was the girlfriend Sheila had been talking about. Narancia liked it, it was nice to have a little group. It was nice to be able to hang out with Mista.

Mista, who he still had a major crush on. The more he learned about the other, the more infatuated he became. He had the same sense of humor as Narancia and liked the same music. He smelled like flowers and rich earth, something that was a mystery to him. Mista also loved flowers. It was something he’d noticed amongst the foster siblings. They all had the same affinity to nature in general. They all had that same pleasant smell.

He was looking for flowers to put on his mother’s grave. His usual shop had closed early for the day, so he searched for another shop nearby. He almost missed it in the search results, but the name drew him in. La Calendula.

It was his mother’s favorite flower. A smile graced his face as he wrote down the address. He called out to Fugo and Abbacchio, telling them where he was going. They let him go alone. It was something Narancia needed to do alone, with relative peace.

He set off, walking the ten minutes to the shop. It was small, yet looked well taken care of. The sign was hand-painted and there were displays of flowers in the window. He opened the door, a bell softly tingling, announcing his entrance. The man behind the counter looked up, squinting, before giving him a beaming smile.

“Hello, welcome to La Calendula! How may I help you?” the man asked, voice strong and warm. He looked familiar to Narancia. Something about the short black hair and blue eyes tickled at his memory. He let it go. He’s never been here before so it was probably a weird bout of déjà vu.

“Yes, I was wondering if you could help me pick out a bouquet for my mother’s grave? The flower shop I normally go to closed early for the day and I’ve been meaning to swing by to visit her,” To Narancia’s relief, the man didn’t give him a look of pity, just hummed and pondered for a second, nodding, and looking knowingly at Narancia. The look looked incredibly familiar. It almost reminded him of Trish when she was plotting.

“I think I have an idea as to what to do,” he said, before turning back and calling out to the backroom. “Mista! Bring out some sunflowers and peonies!” he paused for a second, before continuing. “Call Giorno and see if the larkspur and gladiola are ready!” He heard a familiar voice shout back in affirmation.

Narancia’s brain stopped. Huh. Now everything made sense. The man was Bruno, the siblings’ foster dad, and owned a flower shop. That why the siblings smelled like that and why they all held an affinity to flowers. The rose Mista gave him. Makes sense. He, however, wasn’t ready to see Mista walk out of the back looking incredibly adorable.

Mista carried a few containers of flowers, most likely the one’s Bruno called for. They were beautiful, a combination of colors but what was even more beautiful was the boy carrying them. His curls were freed from his everpresent hat, small flowers weaved into them, making them pop with color. His eyes were bright and happy, looking at peace amongst the flowers. He had a streak of dirt on his cheek, his freckles seemed to pop out more, most likely from him being in the sun. He was dressed simply in an oversized white shirt and with overalls on, the strap sliding off his shoulder.

Narancia was in love.

Mista then seemed to notice him, eyes widening and he stumbles, almost dropping the containers if not for Bruno stepping in. Narancia misses the knowing look and grin Bruno flashes Mista. Mista’s cheeks color, clearly embarrassed. Narancia wishes he could take a picture of how beautiful he looks.

“H-Hey, Nara! Didn’t know you were here!” Mista said, shooting a glare at Bruno, who responded with a smile, patting Mista’s shoulder.

“I’ll be out back if you need me!” Bruno said, winking. Mista groaned. “Behave yourself!”

The two stood next to each other, just staring not knowing what to do. Mista’s blush had quickly spread to the tips of his ears, and he stuttered out.

“Hey, how help can you? I mean, how you can help. Fuck.” he took a deep breath. “How can I help you?”

Narancia softly laughed. He gestured to the flowers Bruno left on the counter.

“Just these. I need an arrangement,” he said, enjoying the sight of a flustered Mista. It was really cute. Narancia wasn’t the brightest, but he definitely wasn’t blind to see Mista’s reaction was a result of infatuation. He felt light and airy, seeing that they had the same effect on each other. The other boy laughed as well, a little jittery, and nodded, going to the flowers. The two began chatting, talking about anything that popped into their mind, Narancia enraptured in watching as Mista efficiently started building the arrangement. He used burgundy, pink, and white, adding the yellow of the sunflowers to pop. It was beautiful, and from the soft smile pulling at the sides of full lips and the crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he stared at the flowers, Narancia knew he loved what he did here. And when Mista gave him the same look, eyes soft and shining, Narancia caved in.

Careful with the flower arrangement, he leaned forward, getting close to Mista. Violet looked into coal, and their lips met. It was a sweet kiss, soft and slow. Narancia could breathe Mista’s fresh scent, stronger than it ever was. It was comforting and sweet. Narancia felt like he could stay there, drinking in all of Mista for hours, and by how hard they were smile, teeth clinking against each other, it was mutual.

“Finally! About time!” The two were startled apart, Mista whipping around to see his whole family there. Trish had been the one to yell and was beaming, Giorno had a mischevious grin on his face, a camera in his hands. Bruno smiled at the two softly. Mista instantly went red, Narancia not far behind going by the haet he feels flooding his cheeks.

“Are you guys serious?! Get out!” he shouted in indignation and embarrassment. The three laughed at his expense, leaving the two alone, Giorno throwing a quick quip in Japanese at Mista that had the other yelling after him, the blond leaving with a giggle. Mista turned back, sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, you know how it is,” Narancia smiled, and gave him another soft kiss. Mista reciprocated happily.

“It’s okay,” Narancia breaks apart and presses their foreheads together, giving Mista a soft look, repeating something from what felt like yesterday.