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It was a warm, hazy summer day in Naples, the kind that makes one want to stay inside all day in a well-ventilated room.
Trish placed the plant she just finished repotting in the windowsill of her living room, stepping back to admire her work with a satisfied hum.
“All done. What did you say, how often should I water this one?”
“Weekly, or whenever the top inch of the soil has gotten dry. Be careful not to overwater it.” Fugo was curled up on Trish’s couch, not even looking up from his book to answer the question.
“You sure know a lot about plants.” Trish walked over to the counter to get the iced lemonade from the fridge.
Fugo cracked a smile as he put down his book. “It’s something I picked up recently… Thanks to the greenhouse in the garden of the mansion. My family had a big garden, but it was all, you know, rose bushes and fancy-schmancy. I kind of hated them.” He looked over to Trish’s windowsill. “But these ones… Monstera, missionary plant, succulents… There’s something so genuine about them. None of that shallow, ‘how else will they know that we have a lot of money’ motive.”
“You sound like Giorno. Hey, what are you reading?”
The ice cubes clinked together in Fugo’s lemonade, as he picked it up and took a sip, hoping the cool drink would do something about his suddenly hot cheeks. “Journey by Moonlight. Man has a mid-life crisis, hops on a train in the middle of his honeymoon, and gets lost in Italy.” Trish plopped down next to him on the couch, iced lemonade in hand. “I really like the descriptions in it… They are very immersive.”
“Sounds like a nice time.” Trish smiled against the rim of her glass. “Would you like to do something similar?”
“Have a mid-life crisis and leave my wife behind?” They both giggled at the mental image. “No, not really. But I do enjoy the image of hopping on a train and getting lost in a foreign country, if that’s what you meant.”
“Yeah, although Italy is everything but foreign to us. On the other hand, I haven’t been to Milan before at all…” Trish’s gaze got dreamy, then her face lit up. “We should go there sometime with everyone, like a Passione field trip! I bet there would be a lot of sights for Narancia to take photos of… And Giorno could use a break, too…”
Fugo laced his fingers together, the cold of the ice still lingering on them. “Hey, about Giorno… I mean, it’s not about Giorno, it’s rather-“
Trish raised an eyebrow, and put her lemonade on the coffee table. “Am I finally going to learn why you showed up here two hours ago, stating that you ‘need to clear your head out?’”
Fugo tilted his head to the side, glancing sideways. “Kind of? Maybe. Could you… teach me how to braid hair?”
No matter how hard Trish tried, she couldn’t suppress the smug smile that spread across her face. “Sure thing.” Fugo expected questions, but the way Trish’s words were just hanging in the air between them somehow made things even more awkward.
“You know, you look cute when you are blushing.”
“Shut up.” Fugo retorted, but it was weak compared to his usual tone.
“Look, how long are you going to hide the fact that you and Giorno are dati-“
“We- Christ’s sake, we aren’t dating, Trish.” Fugo buried his face in his hands, and ran his fingers though his hair. “I- Like, how and when do people even agree to do that? Everything is so vague, and I can never read his face, and I just-“
Trish gently pat Fugo’s back. “There is no need to be so dramatic, lover boy. You’ve got a crush, so what? Of course you’d want to impress him. It’s natural.”
“You saying it doesn’t make this situation any less awkward.” Fugo let out a defeated sigh. “Can we just skip to the part where you teach me how to braid hair?”
Trish wanted to laugh from relief. She had been watching those two dance around each other for months, and now one of them is finally making a move! Well… kind of. “Of course. Hold up, I’m going to let my hair down in a second.”
The chance for Fugo to show off his new knowledge came sooner than he expected.
He didn’t like having to bother Giorno in his bedroom – it all felt way too intimate –, but they were running late, and as his secretary, it was his job to make sure he was on time.
“Come in,” Giorno replied to the knocking.
Fugo poked his head into the room. “Giorno, we should be setting off in ten minutes, or else we will be late… Is everything okay?”
Giorno was sitting in front of his dressing table, seemingly all ready, except… His “donuts” were in place, but the rest of his hair was down, messy curls falling on his back like a golden waterfall.
Fugo was mesmerized by the sight, having not realized how long Giorno’s hair actually is… But on the other hand, there was something about Giorno like this that screamed he wasn’t okay. He looked… vulnerable. The dark circles under his eyes were even more of a tell-tale sign.
“Today I cannot control Gold Experience the way I’d like to.” Giorno said, and looked at Fugo in the dressing table mirror. “Hair follicles are technically dead, so I can just section my hair, turn them into vines, braid them, and then undo my ability. However…” He glanced down on his hands. “Gold Experience is sensitive to my emotional stance, and admittedly, I didn’t have a restful night… So now I’m attempting to braid my hair without his help, but…”
“Oh.” Fugo knew Giorno is making things sound less serious than they really are. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Well, unless you know how to braid hair, there’s-“
“I do, actually”, Fugo realized that his sudden enthusiasm for braiding hair might be very out of character for him, but he wasn’t in the mood to care. “I mean. If you’d be okay with me doing that.”
Giorno’s widened eyes met his in the reflection of the mirror, and the silence that fell between them for a moment made Fugo worry he overstepped some invisible boundary. But then Giorno spoke.
“I’d appreciate it, then.”
Fugo hesitantly stepped into the room, doing his best to not appear intrusive. But it was Giorno who invited him in, so it should be okay, right?
“Hairbrush and hair ties are right here”, Giorno gestured at the left side of the table. “Sorry that you have to do this.”
“N-no, it’s…” Fugo took a deep breath. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s only the matter of Passione’s good image.” he joked, hoping it would ease the vibrating tension between them.
Giorno let out a small chuckle, making Fugo’s heart skip a beat. “That’s right, so you better make me look good.”
But here was the problem – Fugo hadn’t even touched Giorno’s hair yet, and his heart was already beating out of his chest. Not to mention his slightly trembling hands. He exhaled. Compose yourself. You are just braiding Giorno’s hair… Braiding Giorno’s hair, oh my fucking god. He wished he could slap himself. Snap out of it. Just pretend his hair is Trish’s hair… That thought made him feel less dizzy. Okay. Here we go.
He picked up the hairbrush, holding the cascade of golden hair in his other hand, and started brushing it. Truth to be told, there wasn’t really a need to brush it, as it was already tidy. Not like Fugo would have had the mental capacity to pay attention to potential tangles – not with him being so overwhelmed by the volume and softness of Giorno’s hair against his hand. Trish’s hair, he reminded himself, as he started sectioning it into three equal parts.
“Tell me if I’m being too rough or anything –“
“No, it’s alright.” Their eyes have met in the mirror again.
Fugo was done with the three equal sections, and he froze, realizing that he doesn’t remember the technique. Get yourself together. He closed his eyes for a moment, and a flash of pink locks in a crooked, imperfect braid helped to ground him.
As the braid started to take form, Fugo had to admit that despite everything, he was doing a good job. I wonder how Giorno feels about… this entire situation. He couldn’t stop himself from attempting to sneak a glance at Giorno’s face through the mirror – and to his horror Giorno caught the attempt, their eyes meeting again.
“Don’t worry Fugo, it’s not painful.”
“Ah- okay.” Of course, Giorno would remain oblivious to his feelings. Well, maybe it’s for the better.
He tied the braid at the bottom. “I think I’m done…” He picked up the hand mirror from the table, and handed it to Giorno. “See if it fits your image, or if I should be fired instead.”
Giorno shook his head with a smile, and took the mirror in his hand, aiming it to see its reflection in the dressing table’s mirror.
“I didn’t know how to do that loop at the bottom” Fugo admitted, “but I don’t think it’s very noticeable-“ His breath hitched, as Gold Experience suddenly appeared behind Giorno, turning the end of his braid into a vine, looping and tucking it back under the hair tie. As Giorno undid his ability, his iconic braid fell place, resulting in his usual look finally being complete.
“Thank you, Fugo.” Giorno smiled at him as he stood up from the table, and walked towards the door with a spring in his step. “You even got Gold Experience to listen to me in the end. Let’s hurry.”
Fugo put the brush back to the table, and followed Giorno. “We better. I bet Mista is already freaking out.” He silently thanked Trish in his head for everything she had done to make the last five minutes possible. I’ll have to remember to treat her to lunch later.