Chapter Text
The door slammed behind Fugo as he forcefully closed it. He pressed his back against it before gliding down onto his knees, hands placed over his face and fingers desperately grasping at his skin. He could feel himself shake, his breath was trembling.
Bullshit. This was all just a bunch of bullshit. He wanted to scream, wanted to feel his vocal cords and lungs tear apart as his voice grew bloody and no sound could come out anymore. He wanted to cry, was he crying? Fugo let one of his hands rub over his eye, feeling his now sore skin being soaked in his tears. He hated crying. He hated why he was crying. Even though his legs were shaking he managed to stand up straight again to look out over his bedroom through blurred out vision. He had to blink a few times.
It was quiet. The only thing to be heard was the ticking of his alarm clock and his own heavy breathing. Fugo closed his eyes once again, trying to calm himself down. He was cold but burning up at the same time. Everything was moving under his feet but he felt like he was sinking into quicksand. He could hear something else. It wasn’t coming from his room, it came from downstairs. There were voices, muffled out by the distance. He tried his best to concentrate and managed to make out a few words.
“Unreasonable… tantrum… shameful…”
Fugo opened his eyes again, this time seeing everything in a familiar shade of red. He could feel his blood boiling in his veins. His parents, his family, the people who were supposed to love and care for him; they think he was shameful? That he was unreasonable? That he was throwing a tantrum? Oh, he would show them a tantrum.
He locked his bedroom door before walking over to his bed, ripping his pillows wipe open. Feathers flew out and fell down against the bed gracefully. Fugo opened the drawer beside his bed, taking out a pocket knife he had secretly kept there. He flicked it open, studying its silverblade for a second before stabbing his mattress, ripping it wide open as well.
It felt more than good, it felt amazing. Fugo walked over to his bookshelf. Every book was placed in alphabetic order with not a single trace of dust on them. He pulled each book out of their place, down to the floor. He looked at the book he was currently holding: an encyclopedia. How ironic. Opening the book he quickly decided on tearing out as many pages as he could, ripping the book into pieces. He pushed his bookshelf on to the ground, stomping onto its back to create a hole. His eyes landed on his wardrobe next. Grabbing a pair of scissors from his desk, he went over to his wardrobe and pulled out every single garment that he owned. His heart was beating loudly in his ears as he started cutting into all of his clothes. Big and small holes wherever he could. It felt so relieving, so satisfying.
Fugo brought one of the shirts to his face. It was his mother's favorite; he had gotten it for christmas a few years back and he never really liked it. But now, when it was covered in gaping holes, he found himself growing quite fond of it. Now it reminded him more of himself.
He had to leave. He had to get out of this house and this shithole of a town. Walking over to his bed again, he picked up his backpack and started packing. What would he need? He walked back to his wardrobe again, grabbing socks, boxers, some clothes. Fugo caught his reflection in the mirror on his wardrobe door. His face was red from all the crying, his skin sore from his nails but most surprisingly (or was it really?), he was smiling like an idiot. When was the last time he had smiled this widely? This brightly? His eyes darted down onto the clothes he was wearing. A polo shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. He might as well puke. Quickly, he undressed and looked through the clothes he had previously so gracefully modified.
Fugo got dressed again before looking back into the mirror. He had settled on to the red suit he was gifted from his grandmother a while back. It had been way too big then but now it fit perfectly. The gaps showed off his pale skin under the suit. It felt great and for the first time in forever, he looked at himself in the mirror and felt comfortable with who it was that stared back at him.
What would he do now? Fugo zoned out of a second before shaking his head back into reality. He was gonna write a letter to his beloved parents before leaving. Walking over to his desk again, Fugo ripped out a paper from his notebook. He grabbed a sharpie before he started writing:
Dear Mother and Father,
Suck my cock. My huge, long, veiny dick. Suck it. I wish hell upon the both of you. I hope your marriage goes more south than it’s already heading. You both are terrible parents. I am leaving this fucktown, which is something I should have done ages ago.
Fugo
He left the note where he had written it before grabbing onto his backpack and his keys. He walked over to his bedroom window, opened it and crawled out of it. Standing on the roof, he looked around. What would be the safest way down? He spotted his car, it was parked quite close to where he was. It would only take a minute or two to get over there. Fugo looked down again, there were bushes under him. Without thinking, he made a jump for it. Thankfully, he managed to land somewhat gracefully. His legs took the most damage but the pain was dulled out by the adrenaline in his blood. He ran for his car, unlocking it and throwing himself inside as fast as he could. The car was old. Fugo had only owned it for a year or two, he had inherited it from his grandma. He wasn’t able to use it though until a couple months ago when he turned 18 and got his driver's license. He started the car and drove off.
It was dark out, it must have been around 10 pm at that point. Fugo wasn’t tired, he was wide awake at this point. The radio was playing some old rock song. He turned up the volume, trying his best with singing along. He had made up his mind: he was going to Rome. It wasn’t that far, right? It had to be around a two and a half hour drive. Did he have enough gas for that? Maybe he’d have to stop somewhere and get some. He could probably take out some money then as well. Holy shit, he was actually doing this. He was running away from home. Would anyone care? Probably not. No one ever did.
Tonight had been the last straw. Fugo exhaled slowly, finally feeling his pulse going down. He had to be calm. He had… what had he done? He walked into the living room, he talked to his parents… he told them about-
Fugo had told them about his professor.
He bit his already bruised lower lip. He didn’t want to get worked up over that again. Why had they gotten so mad? Why didn’t they care? Why didn’t they care for him? For their own son? Fugo kept his eyes on the road in front of him. The radio was the only company he had. It helped with getting back to reality. Had they noticed that he left? Surely they must have heard him wrecking his room into pieces. Hell, even him jumping out his window and driving away. Did they really miss it or did they just not care enough to go check on him? Fugo shook his head.No, screw that. He already knew the answer: they didn’t care. That was why he was here. That was why he was on his way to Rome. He was gonna escape this reality. He was gonna find a new home.
It had to have been about forty minutes before he pulled over into a nearby town. Thankfully, there was a gas station not too far away from the main road. Fugo refueled his car before walking into the gas station. He was feeling quite hungry. Did he even eat dinner tonight? Walking down the small isles, he tried to spot something resembling a meal. He settled on a plastic wrapped sub. There was only him, the cashier and an older woman in the store but he could still feel their gazes on him. He couldn't blame them, considering how weird he must look. Clothes covered in gaping holes, ruffled up silver hair and bruised skin. He grabbed a chocolate bar and some kind of off brand cola before quickly making his way over to the cashier.
“Need a bag for that?”
“No, it’s fine. Thank you.”
It felt weird hearing his own voice again. It was hoarse and uneven. Fugo swallowed. He remembered to pay for gas as well before he walked out through the door. His eyes locked with the old lady’s for a split second. Her expression was.... Questionable. She looked a little afraid but also like she had some kind of pity for him. Fugo didn’t like that. He wasn’t just some kind of fucked up kid, he didn’t need strangers to judge him. He didn’t need anyone to judge him.
It had definitely gotten colder outside. Sure, it was still summertime but that heat was nowhere to be seen when the sun went down. Maybe it was thanks to his now very revealing outfit that he could feel the cold wind in a different way. Fugo didn’t mind though; the cold was welcoming. He spotted an ATM just outside. Bingo. Fugo took out as much cash as he could. If his parents decided to lock his card or something, he wanted to have as much money as possible at hand. The maximum limit was 1000 euros. He put the money into his wallet before walking back to his car. He got into the driver's seat again, driving off once again to try and find a place to park his car for the night.
After a few minutes of searching, he settled on a parking lot in front of what looked to be an abandoned building. Hopefully he would get some peace and quiet out here. Reaching into the backseat of the car, Fugo pulled out a bottle from a plastic bag. He had stolen a bottle of whiskey from his dad a while back. He had figured that it might come to use later. Smart move, past Fugo.
He brought the bottle to his lips, sensing the musky smell. His eyes landed onto a flickering street lamp.
“Cheers”
The word quietly left his lips before he took one, then two, then three sips of the bottle before stopping himself to cough. He put the bottle away again before trying to push down the back of his seat. Fugo let his eyes fall shut and leaned back. He could finally feel how exhausted he was. He wanted nothing more than to just fall into a deep slumber, maybe so deep that he would never wake up again.
Something was wrong. Fugo couldn’t sleep. He felt like he was on the brink of passing out but he could not for the love of god drift away. It felt like something was missing, what was missing? He had fallen asleep in much worse places than the front seat of a car before, so why did he feel so uneasy-
Then it clicked. His eyes opened up again, he could feel a lump growing in his throat. He had… there was something he had forgotten… Fugo could feel his bottom lip trembling, was he really going to cry over this? He had this bunny back home; it was a plushie he’d gotten as a kid and he always hugged it when he slept. It was kind of embarrassing, considering his age, but he loved that bunny more than anything. He could feel the tears run down his cheeks again and soon he heard his ugly sobbing. His body was shaking again and his body was hot from crying. Why did he leave? Was he stupid? He had such a promising future. He was at the top of his class, wealthy, smart. What the actual fuck would he be doing in Rome? What if his parents knew he had nowhere else to go? What if that was the reason they didn’t come after him?
Fugo rubbed at his eyes. He should go back home again. Stupid, stupid, stupid Fugo! What was he thinking? He can’t take care of himself; he’d probably just end up getting himself killed or worse.
No. No, he didn’t want to go back. He didn't want to go back home, to his parents, to his school, to Professor “I wish you die and burn in hell you piece of shit”. It was just… he missed his bunny. He missed… he missed his grandmother so unbelievably much. He wished he could just cry into her shoulder again, feel her warm hug and her calming voice tell Fugo that everything was going to be alright.
Somehow, he managed to fall asleep. He tried to think of his late grandmother's words, how she had looked, what clothes she wore, the jokes she’d make. She was the only person who could calm Fugo down. When she passed he got even angrier but there was no one there to tell him that it was going to be alright. No one who would listen. No one who would believe him. Only people who used him.
Slowly, Fugo opened his eyes to the hot rays of the summer sun. How long had he been sleeping for? He checked his wristwatch, it was 7 am. He leaned forward to stretch his back before turning on the engine again, radio playing once again, it was some sort of morning program. He opened the soda he had bought the day before and thirstily chugged it down before starting to drive again. He had to find somewhere to eat breakfast.
There were cafes that opened early in the morning to serve breakfast, right? Fugo drove around the town he’d found himself in, looking around for a surprising amount of time before finding a small place on the end of a street corner. He parked his car outside before getting out into the morning air. The first thing he noticed was the aching pain in his limbs from not only sleeping in a car but also from jumping out of a fucking window.
The cafe looked very cute; it had some kind of pink wallpaper and there were a lot of flowers everywhere. The place was empty except for him himself and the cashier. He walked up to the front desk, ordering a coffee and a sandwich, making a mental note to get actual dinner tonight. He can’t live off of bread. The cashier nodded before getting to work. He didn’t seem to mind Fugo at all. He didn’t even bat an eye when he entered. Maybe the guy had seen worse.
He paid for his order, holding the door open for someone who was entering just as he was leaving. The sun was unusually bright for this time of day, he had to squint. With one hand at his forehead to shield off the sun his eyes landed on to his car. At first, it took him a second to register what was happening but then it clicked.
“Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Fugo quickly made his way over to his car. There was some guy trying to break into his car. He was shorter than Fugo, he could clearly just throw him off of the car. The boy turned around for a second before going back to the door, frantically trying to pull it open.
He pinned the other against the wall, making him turn around and look straight at him. The guy looked nasty. His hair was raven black and was drooping down over his left eye and...he had some weird kind of headband. Actually, his entire outfit looked weird. Was that a skirt?
“Why the fuck are you breaking into my car, rat?”
Their eyes locked and Fugo got taken aback for a second. Even though he could only see one of his eyes, the guy had extremely purple eyes. That wasn’t all though. He had this weird expression on his face that Fugo couldn’t make out. It almost looked as if he had given up.
“Hey! Are you listening to me? I'll kick your ass.”
Silence. Why didn’t he answer him? Was he mute? Deaf, maybe?
“I need the car, shitstick. Why would I otherwise try to steal it?”
Okay, he was not expecting that. Fugo closed his mouth and furrowed his brows. Who was this little prick?
“Beat me up, if you want. I don’t care.”
Fugo was confused. He didn’t understand. And still, the boy’s gaze was so empty. He really didn’t care. Was he homeless? Did he live on the street? Did he… had he also run away from home? He was about to tell the boy off once again when he heard his stomach rumble. When was the last time this guy ate something? Taking a closer look, Fugo noted that the boy was probably too small for his age and he did look like he needed to get some fat on his arms.
He furrowed his eyebrows slightly. Was...was he really living off of trash? Where did he live?
“When was the last time you ate?”
The boy’s expression changed at Fugo’s words. He looked confused.
“Do you mean like a proper meal or like, garbage?”
So it had been a while, then. He felt sorry for the boy. No one should have to live off of the streets. What had led him to live this life? Where were his parents?
Wait- ...wait.
With a sigh, Fugo let go of the other, opening the passenger seat. Was he really feeling pity for this boy? He mentally slapped himself. Stupid. How could Fugo, who absolutely despised when people judged him, feel pity for someone he had just met? He almost felt embarrassed, but most of all he felt ignorant and dumb.
“Get in.”
He looked back at Fugo, seeming to get more and more confused with every passing second.
“I’ll buy you some food or whatever. Now hurry up before I change my mind, pissface.”
There was a moment of silence where the boy just stared back at Fugo. He must be wondering why Fugo’s doing this. Hell, why is he doing this? He felt so... mean . He had to make it up to the boy and the first thing that came to mind was to buy him a meal. Soon enough, he does as he is told.
“Fine, but if you try anything I will stab you and steal your car.”
This was going to be a long day.
They ended up splitting the sub and holy shit Fugo had never seen anyone eat that quickly in his entire life. Other than that they had for the most part just been sitting in silence. Was this weird? Just two guys who didn’t know each other sharing a sub? The boy finally spoke; bringing Fugo back into reality. His mouth was full of bread, had he no manners?
“So like, who are you? Like, what’s your name n’stuff?”
Fugo glanced over at the other boy, cringing a bit at his way of speaking.
“My name is Pannacotta Fugo.”
“Like the desert?”
“I- yes?”
The boy snickered to himself, swallowing hard.
“What's your name, then?”
“Narancia Ghirga.”
“Like the fruit?”
“Yup, cus I’m so sweet and tasty.”
Fugo looked over at Narancia like he was some kind of outer space being. He was truly at a loss for words. He didn’t even seem to be aware either; he was just licking his fingers. Gross.
“Did your mom tell you that?”
Narancia looked back up at Fugo, staring right back into his own eyes. He felt targeted and trapped. It felt like he couldn’t move his gaze away for a second.
“Yes, actually she did.”
Fugo focused on the road again. The silence grew more uncomfortable. At least the music from the radio tried it’s best with releasing some of the tension. Yes, actually she did . Narancia’s words echoed in Fugo’s mind. He had said it in such a confident way; he was proud. God, had Fugo really made such a bad joke? What had gotten into him?
What the hell was playing on the radio? He looked over to the stereo to find Narancia pushing buttons and changing the stations until he found one he liked.
“What are you doing?”
He met Fugo’s gaze for a second before looking back down to the car radio.
“You were playing such angsty music. Ya like Tupac?”
Fugo narrowed his eyes slightly. Did he? He wasn’t allowed to listen to anything that his parents didn’t allow.
He turned up the volume, the beat and instrumentals of the song getting louder as Narancia’s grin grew even wider. Who was this boy even? The song was… interesting to say the least. Definitely new to Fugo, that’s for sure. But what caught him most of guard was Narancia who had started doing an equally- if not more confusing dance. He sang along to the distorted vocals.
“In the city, city of Compton. We keep it rockin’! We keep it rockin’!”
Fugo tried his very best, with every fiber in his body, to not kick this boy out of his car. More than twelve hours ago he was ripping his room apart and telling his parents to suck his dick. Ten hours ago he was crying and trembling in his car from missing his plush bunny. Now? He was sitting with a total stranger in his car while the other danced and screamed to Tupac.
Fugo rapped along to the beat with his finger on the steering wheel. The song wasn’t that bad, it was catchy. It ended soon enough and Narancia finally stopped throwing his arms around. The station went on to commercials and Narancia was trying to catch his breath.
“Did’ya like it?”
“It was alright.”
Narancia’s grin got even brighter for some reason.
“I know right? He’s one of my favs. When are you buying me food?”
Fugo glanced over at his wristwatch for a second before looking back to the road again.
“Well, it’s still a bit too early to eat lunch.”
Narancia hummed, seeming to be thinking for quite some time before answering.
“So you just want me to hang around in your car for another hour or two? So you can ’buy me lunch’?”
The boy made air quotations at the last part. What did he mean by that? Wait, he didn’t- was he really suggesting that Fugo would-
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You’re a bit shady, Pannacotta Fugo.”
Fugo could feel his blood starting to boil. What the hell did he know about anything? Why would Fugo do anything? Why did he assume the worst of him? He hit the breaks, making the other boy yelp and fly a bit forward. Fugo turned towards the other.
“Listen real good, you rat. I’m not some fucking rapist or murderer okay? I don’t know why you have to assume the absolute fucking worst of me but I just wanted to buy you some lunch.” He could feel himself losing the grip on himself, “fucking hell , I’m tired of this.”
He reached over into his wallet, taking out a few dollar bills.
“Here, take this and leave. It should be enough for some spaghetti fuckognese or some shit. Now leave me alone.”
Narancia looked back at him with wide eyes. It took a solid five seconds before the boy’s face cracked into a smile again and he started laughing.
Fugo was losing his marbles at this point. What was wrong with this boy? Kicking him out of his car felt more and more rewarding. Narancia finally calmed down a bit, being able to form words. He wiped away a tear.
“You said fuckognese.”
The both of them became silent again. Fugo had stopped in the middle of the road. Thankfully it wasn’t that busy so it didn’t seem to bother anyone. He did say that, actually. Huh, he didn’t really think about it. Fugo spoke once again, his voice much quieter this time.
“Spaghetti fuckognese.”
He started driving again.
“What do you think they’d say if you tried to order that at a restaurant?”
Narancia sounded genuinely curious. Hell, Fugo was curious too.
“Only one way to find out, right?”