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It had been about a week since Fugo was reunited with the rest of the team. Meaning, it had been one week since Fugo learned that one of his worst fears came true: Narancia, Bucciarati, and Abbacchio had died trying to defeat the boss. They were dead. Fugo had been right, despite having never wanted to be more wrong.
But, then he was told that they weren’t dead… not anymore, at least.
Honestly, the blond couldn’t comprehend it all. Just seeing Gold Experience Requiem for a moment filled the blond with a sense of terror, but it was a different kind of fear than when he saw Purple Haze. He supposed that was just the “effect” of requiem stands, or whatever the upgraded stand forms were being called. Given the story of Diavolo’s defeat, it was clear that Giorno’s stand was more powerful than any other stand user he had ever met. But… bringing the dead back to life? It still didn’t sound feasible. Giorno hadn’t – or couldn’t – explain how it worked either, but the younger boy also looked a bit like death himself from overexertion so Fugo didn’t pry. He had just asked Giorno if he could see the others.
When Fugo had arrived back at Bucciarati’s house to see him, Abbacchio, and Narancia, they were all sleeping. Mista informed him that they were alive but hadn’t woken up yet. So, Fugo agreed to stay at the house but refused to see those three until they were awake. He might have lived in the house like everyone else, but he didn’t want to see them again if they were just going to die before he could properly apologize. Thankfully, Bucciarati didn’t take too long to wake up, and things began to look up again. Well, sort of.
It had been six days since Bucciarati had woken up, four days for Abbacchio, and two long, long days for Narancia. They were all very much alive, thankfully, but… something was off. If Gold Experience Requiem healed them, then why were they so weak? Everyone had assumed that they would be fine once they woke up, but the three of them were still very much in recovery mode. Strangely enough, while Bucciarati and Abbacchio both had varying levels of alertness and consciousness, Narancia had barely done anything since he woke up. Fugo wasn’t even sure at this point if Narancia was even aware that he was awake, honestly.
Narancia had yet to attempt to communicate with him and even more unsettling than his silence was the fact that his eyes were always dull and unfocused. It was… difficult to manage. He could move if someone made him, though he currently was unable to hold himself up for more than a couple of seconds at the most. So, whenever Fugo had to lead him out of his room he had just decided on carrying him for the time being. Usually picking Narancia up was a bit difficult, given that Fugo was probably the least physically fit on the team. Though… he had to have been stronger than Trish. Well, was she even a member of the team? She was staying in their house, for good reason, but he didn’t know if she was planning on actually staying as a gang member or not. He would have to ask Bucciarati once the capo was more alert and ready to discuss details such as that. … Or would I be talking to Giorno about that now? He didn’t want to think about what was going on with all of that. He just felt lucky that they let him come back home.
A stirring from his peripheral vision caught Fugo’s attention, and he turned back to see that Narancia was staring right at him with owlish eyes. Hope flooded Fugo’s chest. He was awake again. “Narancia?” Fugo called out to him, hoping that maybe this time he would get a response.
The little clock on the wall ticked loudly, filling the silence that followed. Fugo frowned. It was just like before; no response. But… maybe if he tried just a little more then he would talk or make a noise or just do something.
“Hey, Narancia… How are you feeling?” he prompted, giving the other boy an encouraging smile.
Narancia blinked.
“Narancia… are you hungry? You don’t have to talk, you can just nod or blink twice or something,” Fugo tried, hoping this different tactic would work. Of course, though, it didn’t.
Fugo sighed, feeling defeated again. Instead of trying to talk this time, he stood up from the wooden chair that he had been stationed at all morning. He pulled away the blankets from Narancia’s bed and, keeping an eye on the black-haired boy the whole time, slid under the covers beside him. Narancia had no reaction when Fugo maneuvered him around, making it feel more like moving a life-sized doll around than an actual person.
Usually Fugo would have stayed more out of Narancia’s physical space, as he himself had never known how to properly initiate intimate physical contact with people, but in his mind this was a test of sorts so it was alright. Narancia had the lovely habit of clinging to people for comfort sometimes, so maybe this would get a reaction.
However, even after he had Narancia held gently in his arms, the boy just stared. It was like he was in a trance. It was infuriating to see him reduced to this, and at the same time it broke Fugo’s heart.
“C’mon, Nara,” Fugo murmured, the simple nickname slipping off his tongue accidentally. The blond reached a hand up to tilt Narancia’s head back slightly so he could look into his eyes, and then furrowed his brow at what he saw. Usually Narancia’s eyes were a bright violet color and were full of mischief. They were almost always alert, ready to hop into action the second something caught his gaze. Even if Fugo’s pride wouldn’t let himself be so sappy as to say he would get lost in Narancia’s eyes or anything, he did have to admit that they were always quite beautiful to look at. But, as he stared into his eyes now, they were only dull and glazed over. Narancia was staring back, but he wasn’t looking at him at all. Fugo realized that the last time Narancia had really looked at Fugo was when he said goodbye, right before he dove in the water to swim to his practical death for a girl he barely knew.
Fugo swallowed back the lump that was suddenly trying to form in the back of his throat, and he began to stoke the other boy’s soft hair. “Narancia… Where are you right now?” he wondered aloud, his voice quiet and pleading. “C’mon, come back to m- come back to us. I know you can do it…”
At the very least, Narancia’s stare relaxed the slightest bit once his hair was being pet, and eventually he was asleep again. Fugo didn’t know if that counted as progress.
---
These failures to communicate with Narancia continued for days. His best friend was barely more than a corpse with a heartbeat and Fugo couldn’t stand it. At one point he got so sick of the situation that he marched right down the stairs and yelled at Giorno until he was blue in the face. Giorno had sat back and allowed him to yell, and when Fugo had no more breath left, calmly asked if he felt any better. If anything, it had made Fugo feel worse, and he said as much in the apology he had immediately followed up with. It was obvious that Giorno was overtired, and he was making things worse.
Giorno confided in him later, once he was more calm, that he worried he made a mistake bringing the others back. He also had mentioned that when it happened he couldn’t remember how he did it; he didn’t even remember it happening for the most part. It was creepy thinking that Gold Experience Requiem seemed to have such a mind of its own that not even its user knew everything it had done. Giorno was struggling with that as well, apparently, and Fugo didn’t blame him. It must have been tough for him; so much happened to him so soon. So much had happened to all of them.
In order to ease some of the stress off the others, Fugo had taken to staying in Narancia’s bed at night instead of his own. It was probably weird, but he continued to hold onto the hope that maybe his close presence was helping. Maybe Narancia didn’t even notice he was there, but maybe he did. No one could tell, so Fugo decided to stay. And plus, if anything happened to him overnight then Fugo would be right there to help. So, really, it was the least he could do. Mista had offered to trade places with him for a day or two, but honestly Fugo didn’t want to despite his tiredness.
It all paid off when, one evening, as Fugo was sitting on one side of Narancia’s bed and reading a book out loud, there was a breakthrough. Fugo had paused his reading to grab a swig of water from the glass on the bedside table when he heard a little tiny noise from beside him. His head whipped around to stare at the boy, and found that his eyes were squeezed shut. It wasn’t uncommon for Narancia to make a noise in his sleep every now and then, but for some reason this caught Fugo’s attention. Maybe it was time to try and talk to him again.
Fugo reached a hand out and stroked Narancia’s hair, trying to be comforting and encouraging. “Hey, Narancia… you waking up?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. He watched as Narancia’s nose wrinkled up and his eyes squeezed tighter briefly before fluttering open and looking up at him. For a moment, Fugo feared he had gotten his hopes up again, but when Narancia stared at him something changed.
Narancia blinked once, twice, three times. He seemed panicked for a moment, but quickly his eyes focused on the hand petting his hair. Then, he glanced around the room the best he could without moving his head. When he met Fugo’s gaze again, his eyes were full of confusion and worry. He was finally looking at Fugo, though, and the expression was so familiar that it made Fugo smile.
“Oh, there you are…” Fugo cooed as his whole being filled up with warmth. He hadn’t realized how cold he had been since that day in Venice… but none of that mattered now. They weren’t supposed to, but they all came back; they were together. Fugo knew in that moment that he wouldn’t let them leave like that again, especially Narancia. He would do better to keep everyone safe.
Leaning forward, Fugo pressed a soft and gentle kiss to Narancia’s forehead. It was a rare gesture coming from him, one the blond tended to save for the still quiet of the night when Narancia was asleep and blissfully unaware of his affections. Today’s circumstances were special though, and he deemed a good enough excuse for his actions. Maybe he would start finding excuses for the days going forward, too.
Narancia stared at Fugo as the blond pulled away, looking completely and utterly lost. Then, without a word, he began to cry.
Fugo panicked at first. He hadn’t expected Narancia to get emotional, though maybe it should have been more obvious. If Narancia really hadn’t been fully conscious this past week, then he probably had no idea what was going on or how he got back home. Was he scared? Was he in pain? Fugo had no idea, but he easily fell back on his past experiences. Narancia acted tough-as-nails but at the same time was one of the most emotional members of their group, so Fugo had learned what to do over the years even if comfort wasn’t a natural talent of his.
“You’re alright, you’re at home,” Fugo murmured as calmly as he could and pulled Narancia against him. The boy showed no resistance, allowing himself to be put into a comfortable position. Fugo realized he probably didn’t have the strength to move much on his own still, so seeing Narancia shakily reach out and grab a loose fistful of Fugo’s shirt made a fond smile grow on his face again as he began to talk. “Everyone’s okay, they’re all in their rooms. You’re safe, okay?” It seemed to take all of Narancia’s energy to even just silently cry in Fugo’s arms, so the blond was prepared to keep him comfortable and console him for as long as he needed.
Narancia tried to open his mouth and talk, but no words came out. Either he was far too tired or he just physically couldn’t speak yet. Fugo pressed a hesitant kiss to his cheek as he mentally made a note to talk to Giorno if his speech didn’t improve. For now, though, just the fact that Narancia was showing any signs of awareness at all was more than enough.
“I know… I’m here, Nara,” Fugo murmured and cupped the side of Narancia’s face, swiping his thumb over the boy’s cheek to wipe away the tears. He was trying to answer any possible questions Narancia might be trying to ask, but it ended up forming into a guilt-ridden apology. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to leave again. I’m so sorry, Narancia. I’ll protect you better so we won’t be put in that situation ever again.”
Having heard how wobbly the blond’s words got at the end, Narancia gripped Fugo’s shirt tighter. He tried to say something again but Fugo shushed him so he could save his energy. Of course though, because he was Narancia, the boy ignored him and tried to talk for a third time. He was lucky that Fugo knew how to read lips.
‘You… too...’
Fugo couldn’t help but chuckle at what Narancia was trying to say, feeling the mood of the room lighten despite the situation they were in. “Yeah? I don’t doubt it. You’ll protect everyone, won’t you?” he replied, unable to keep the undertones of tenderness out of his voice, and watched every small shift in Narancia’s expression with a laser focus. He was proud of his general ability to read Narancia well nowadays, and he wanted to put that to use. The other boy still seemed confused by everything, but in this brief moment of lucidity he was able to give Fugo a lopsided grin. The look reminded Fugo that just a few weeks ago the two of them were walking around Naples and joking around with each other. The look Narancia had given him back then was the same as right now, and Fugo didn’t have the self-control left in him to not lean down and kiss him right on those grinning lips, just like he had done before.
Narancia immediately kissed back, which was another parallel to before, though it was weak and more of a light press on the lips than a real kiss. Fugo pulled back when he felt an uneven breath puff on his cheek, and took a long look at him. “You have no idea what’s going on, do you?” Fugo asked upon seeing a fresh set of tears forming in Narancia’s eyes, and the other boy sniffled in a poor attempt at a reply.
“That’s fine,” Fugo reassured him. “Just try to relax, okay? It’s late, so unless you want a drink then just try to get some sleep. Once you’re more awake I’ll try to tell you everything. That sound good?”
Narancia’s face scrunched up again and he half opened his mouth to try and reply. It looked to Fugo like Narancia wanted a drink, so he briefly let go of him so he could get up and grab some water. He technically could just give him the glass on the bedside table, but something cold and fresh would probably be better on Narancia’s throat.
However, the second he sat up Fugo felt Narancia try and tug at his pant leg. When the blonde looked over to see why he was being stopped, Narancia looked desperate and afraid, even more so than when he first had woken up.
Narancia licked his lips and then was able to sloppily mouth, ‘don’t go’.
Fugo immediately lay back down, wrapping his arms around Narancia again. “Okay, I’ll won’t go anywhere. I’ll stay here as long as you need,” he promised sincerely and pulled the other boy close once more. Tomorrow sounded like it was going to be stressful and Fugo could already feel a headache coming on, but when Narancia clung to him as much as he could and sniffled into the crook of his neck, Fugo took a deep breath and released his angry and frustrated feelings as best he could. At least for now he had to focus on helping Narancia. There would be a time to explain to him what exactly happened to him and the others… and to more properly apologize for not having jumped in the water behind him to get on that boat.
Right now, though, Fugo turned off the lamp and settled for murmuring reassuring words to the other boy in the dark to lull him into a gentle, quiet sleep. He had no idea how bad Narancia’s recovery was going to continue to be or how long it would take, but no matter what Fugo was determined to be there for him every step of the way. He hadn’t been there for him the last time, and he never wanted to repeat that mistake again. He wouldn’t, that was a promise.