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Trish didn’t know exactly what they were, and it didn’t really matter to her since he didn’t seem to know either. All that really mattered is she really liked the way Fugo would intertwine his fingers with her own any chance he got and that butterflies danced in her chest whenever she caught sight of that small smile he had when he watched her while he didn’t think she was looking. And of course, the frequent kisses on cheeks were more than welcome.
After they had both admitted to each other that their feelings went beyond friendship and had attempted a first kiss, they had decided to take things slow. It was clear that physical boundaries were going to be important for Fugo, and Trish was more than happy to help him establish those for the both of them, especially since he had been so respectful of her emotional boundaries. Cheek kisses were determined to be safe, and seeing Fugo go from still tensing up when she got near him to actually being the one to initiate physical affection was something that made her heart light up. It wasn’t unusual for each of them to surprise each other with a quick peck while the other two members of the household were away.
And that was precisely what Trish had intended to do when she quickly made her way over to Fugo as he stood in the kitchen, gently stirring some vegetables in a pan. She stood up on her tip toes and leaned in, fully prepared to just give him a simple kiss on the cheek like she had done countless times at this point.
Fugo must have heard her coming, and he turned his head just before she reached him, causing her lips to brush the corner of his mouth instead.
She stepped back, eyes flying wide open as she gauged his response. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
He froze for a moment, blinking a few times as he processed what just happened. “Sorry for what?” he asked with a smile.
Trish giggled in response. She grabbed his free hand and rested her head on his shoulder and watched as he continued making dinner.
“Do you think you’re going to be okay?” she asked as she sat on the edge of his bed.
Trish wasn’t sure exactly what had happened. She didn’t know if something particularly upsetting had happened while he was out or if today’s date was significant in some way. Maybe it was just a bad day; Trish knew from her own experience that some days were just more difficult than others. Regardless of the reason, after what seemed to be like the second full-blown panic attack, she convinced Fugo to take one of the sleep aids they had all been using as a makeshift tranquilizer.
“I think so,” he replied as his eyelids began to grow heavy. “I’m starting to get real sleepy.”
“Good, hopefully you’ll be able to rest now.”
He hummed in response. “Thank you for… You know. And I’m really sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about!” Trish frowned at him, though it wasn’t like she didn’t apologize when she was in his position either.
“Still,” Fugo said, shifting around so he was buried even more under his blankets.
Trish just sighed, wanting nothing more than to wrap him up in a hug, but she knew it probably wouldn’t go over well at the moment. So instead, she gently placed a hand near where she thought his might be under the covers. Something tugged at her heart as she felt a few fingers clasp around her own through the thick fabric.
“Do you want me to stay in here until you fall asleep?” she asked.
“No, that’s okay. I’ll probably be out in a few minutes.” His words were slow as sleep colored his voice.
“Well, I’ll let you rest then.” Trish paused, rubbing her thumb against his hand through the blanket. “Can I give you a kiss goodnight?”
He thought for a moment before nodding his head.
She leaned down and softly brushed her lips against his temple, whispering a goodnight to him.
Fugo’s brows furrowed as she pulled away. “No, not like that,” he whispered. He reached up and placed his hand under her chin, gently guiding her face close to his once more so he could give her a quick kiss on her lips. “Goodnight, Trish.”
It was almost as if a switch had been flipped inside of Fugo. One day, he treated every touch like glass, as if he might break if he lingered too long and was still entirely too stiff for him to possibly be comfortable. The next day, he melted into every casual touch and found any excuse he could to have some kind of physical contact between the two of them, like he was making up for years of being touch starved. Which he probably was, Trish figured, be it consciously or unconsciously.
Having him wrap his arms around her and rest his head on her shoulder, still warm from his shower and hair still damp and smelling of the fruity shampoo, was certainly a welcome change to how things had been. Trish idly played with the fabric on his sleeve, thankful that the other two wouldn’t be back for a while.
Fugo shifted closer to her, breathing out a content sigh before whispering, “You’re my everything.”
Those three words made Trish tense up. She wasn’t exactly sure why they caused such a panic to rise in her chest, but it was certainly there whether she liked it or not.
He must have felt the way she reacted, because he quickly let go and moved so he could see her face more clearly. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concern pooling in his eyes.
What was wrong? Trish couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “Please don’t say that,” she eventually said, drawing her hands close to her chest. “I don’t… I can’t…”
“Hey,” he whispered as he moved around to wipe away a tear she didn’t even realize was there. “Hey, it’s okay.”
She shook her head and sucked in a shaky breath. “I can’t be your everything. I can’t be anyone’s everything.” The words trembled as she spoke, and her mind went to her mother and the way she used to speak about her father. “No one can be anyone’s everything. No one person can fix another person. It doesn’t work like that. And to suggest it does…”
Fugo nodded solemnly before resting his cheek on her shoulder. His hand found hers, and he comfortingly held it, tracing soothing circles with his thumb against the back of her hand. “I hadn’t thought of it that way before, and I’m sorry it came across that way.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Trish whispered, cheeks hot from embarrassment at her reaction.
He tilted his head to look her in the eye. “No, I do. I don’t want you to think I expect you to shoulder all of my issues on top of your own, because I don’t.”
Trish squeezed his hand in response, a different kind of warmth spreading across her cheeks. She knew even from her own position, it was very tempting to fall into his arms and hope that he would protect her from everything in the world. And she knew that wasn’t how this was supposed to work, not if this was going to last.
“We lean on each other,” he continued. “I know everything has been… It would be too easy to want someone to take it all away. And I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on you. Ever.” Fugo was silent for a few moments, and Trish took the quiet as an opportunity to calm her breathing down. “How about this?” he offered. “You’re my favorite person.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but this time in a very welcome way. “I do like the sound of that.”
“Well then, that’s what you are,” he said, brushing her cheek with the tip of his nose. “You’re my favorite person.” Fugo paused for a moment as a rosy blush dusted his face. “Can I give my favorite person a kiss?”
It was Trish’s turn to have her face go red. “I think I would like to get a kiss from my favorite person right now.”
Their lips brushed as quickly as they always did, and as Fugo returned his arms around her and placed his head on her shoulder once more, she couldn’t help but smile.
“Slow down,” Fugo said, gently tapping the bottom of the glass with his finger. “You’re going to choke.”
Trish brought the cup down from her mouth and let out a gasp that teetered on a sob. She had refused to take one of the pills, but she had conceded to the glass of water Fugo always insisted she have when her anxiety spiked. “Why aren’t they home yet?”
“They’ll be home.” He tenderly tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.
“But what if they don’t come home?” she said with a whimper. Logically, Trish knew they would come home. They had been through this too many times for her to count. And if she had been in the presence of anyone else, she would have tried to keep it in better, but she knew Fugo understood and wouldn’t judge.
“They will,” he whispered, pulling her close so that she could rest her head against his chest.
“You came home on time, so why are they late?” she mumbled into his sweater.
“They might have just gotten caught up in a meeting,” he suggested. “Or maybe Mista decided last minute that he didn’t want to cook. There’s no leftovers, and you know Giorno isn’t going to cook. They might just be grabbing dinner.”
“But what if that’s not it?” Trish’s ragged breaths shook her entire body. “I can’t lose someone else.”
“I know,” Fugo said comfortingly. He gently tilted her face up toward his and wiped away tears with his thumb before pressing a hesitant kiss against her damp cheek. “I know,” he repeated, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re going to be okay, they’re going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.”
Her hands trembled as she gripped his arms tightly, sure that the way her nails dug in must have been uncomfortable, but if it was, he didn’t comment on it. Trish stared into his eyes, almost pleading with him for reassurance, though she knew he wasn’t able to give her any more than he already had. But the repeated care he offered her during times like this meant so much to her. She turned her head and gently kissed the hand that was still cupping her cheek and soothingly rubbing away the steady stream of tears.
Fugo brought his other hand to her face and brushed his thumb against the corner of her mouth. Slowly, he leaned in, eyes carefully watching her, silently asking permission. Trish closed the distance and softly pressed her lips to his.
It was slower than their previous kisses, calm and reassuring, silent words being spoken between them.
Trish lay her head against his shoulder, burying her face in the crook of his neck as she held him tightly, afraid to let him go. She was nearly asleep by the time the front door opened and the other two returned home.
Trish sat at the table, working on one of her school assignments. The sound of the clock ticking was annoying, but it hadn’t reached the point of inducing panic yet. No one was due to be home for at least an hour. For now, she could focus; the panic would come later if it came today.
The homework wasn’t particularly interesting, so when the door opened before it was supposed to, it didn’t startle her like it normally would. Trish looked up to see Fugo walk in.
His tie was loose, and his suit had stains on it that Trish didn’t even want to imagine where they might have come from. Fugo’s eyes were like saucers, pupils blown wide, as he fervently glanced around the room. Eventually he spotted Trish and rushed over to her as she stood up.
Fugo cupped her arms with trembling hands, staring down at her as he took in shaky breaths. His eyes flickered back and forth between hers wordlessly, and she gently tucked a lock of hair behind his ear as her eyebrows furrowed, the panic she had been avoiding suddenly upon her. He looked so fragile before her, as if his next breath might cause him to shatter.
He licked his lips quickly, nervously—the bottom one looking bruised and like it had been bleeding earlier, Trish noted. Fugo placed a hand on her cheek and ran a thumb over the corner of her mouth questioningly. He leaned in halfway, never taking his anxious eyes off of hers, and when she nodded ever so slightly, his lips crashed into hers.
Whispers were what Trish had considered their kisses before—gentle, hesitant, and hardly lasting more than a few moments. And if those kisses were whispers, then this kiss was a statement, a declaration, a whole damn speech condensed into one single action. It was desperate in a way—pleading—and when Fugo placed his free hand on the back of her neck and gently tilted Trish’s head back, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever be able to breathe again. She wasn’t really sure if she wanted to.
Eventually he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers with his eyes closed as he caught his breath. Fugo framed her face with his hands and rubbed his thumbs across her cheeks as if he were wiping away tears, but there were none there. He looked to her for a moment before breaking down himself, burying his face in the crook of her neck while he cried, arms wrapping around her and pulling her as close as humanly possible.
They stayed like that for a moment before she was able to coax him over to the couch where he stayed glued to her side. They spent the rest of the evening in near silence, Trish eventually turning on a movie until the other two came home.
She never asked him what happened, what he experienced to cause such a reaction. Trish wasn’t sure she wanted to know. And on some level, it didn’t matter in the end. All that mattered is that they were alive, that they were together.
Fugo was all packed. His suitcase stood by the door along with a bag filled with whatever didn’t fit in the suitcase. He glanced nervously toward the door as he moved his scrambled eggs around absentmindedly on his plate. “I really don’t want to go,” he confessed.
“It’s just an overnight,” Trish replied supportively, offering a warm hand on his arm.
He grimaced. “Everything’s just an overnight until it turns into a three day negotiation over territories and ports complete with violent threats.”
Trish blanched.
“Not that I think that’ll happen,” he backtracked. “Traffic could also just be terrible and cause a delay or something.”
That didn’t do much to ease her worry, but she appreciated the way Fugo poked her cheek with the handle of his fork so she would smile. “Well, hopefully it is just an overnight. I’ll miss you if you’re gone more than that,” she said.
“You won’t miss me if I’m just gone for a day?” he teased.
“Of course I will, but that’s budgeted missing. I haven’t ran the numbers for more than one day, and it could cause the entire economy to crash if not planned accordingly.” Trish smiled, taking a sip of her coffee.
Fugo laughed. “Well, then I guess I’ll just have to be gone for only one day.” He took a bite of his food, chewing thoughtfully. “You know, for the economy.” After a few moments, he glanced at his watch. “I should get going though. The sooner I get there, the sooner it’ll be over with.” Fugo scraped the uneaten food into the garbage before washing his dish. He grabbed the suitcase and bag and stood at the door. “I’ll call you when I get to the hotel, okay?”
“Aren’t you going to give me a kiss goodbye?” Trish asked.
She was half kidding when she said it, but Fugo grinned anyway and dropped his luggage. He placed his hands on her waist and drew her in for a kiss, tender and warm. Her head spun for just a moment.
“Goodbye, Trish,” he whispered, giving her a peck on the cheek for good measure. “I’ll see you soon.”
Trish bid him goodbye and stood in the kitchen for a moment, collecting herself. It was lovely, it truly was, and it reminded her of her fantasies. In another life, they were married and she was wishing him well on a business trip. She knew he would come back safe and sound, to their safe and warm house, and then they would talk about the mundane things he had to discuss on the boring and safe trip. She would laugh and make a joke, perhaps an inside one about a coworker, before they would eat dinner and turn in for the night in their very safe bed.
But that was not this life.
In this life, they were only sixteen, and every time he left her sight he was in danger. Because in this life, he did not work for a business, he worked for the mafia, and there was never a guarantee that he would return from a day of work at a job he had never asked for. They were haunted by the things they had seen, the things they had done, and nowhere was safe or home, not anymore.
Trish cried.
She mourned the loss of the life they could have had—the life they deserved. Because for just a moment, as he kissed her goodbye in the kitchen, smiling with a rare, carefree smile, she’d had a small taste of that life. And all she wanted more than anything in the world at this point was a quiet life with the boy she loved. And she knew that was impossible.
The two of them sat on the couch, comfortable in each other’s arms. It had been a quiet night, and it was all the more peaceful now that they were able to be so close to one another. Trish lay her head on Fugo’s shoulder, and in turn, he gently rested his head on top of hers.
She felt safe, which was something of a rarity since the spring. “Can I kiss you?” she asked, feeling a surge of warmth and love in her heart.
“Of course,” Fugo replied quietly before shifting so he could face her.
Gone was the hesitation and caution. Neither of them felt like glass anymore, and they were free to be as warm and soft as possible, something they took more advantage of whenever they could sneak in a quick kiss.
“I knew it,” a voice said, causing them to startle and jump apart.
Mista stood in the hallway, wide grin plastered on his face. “I knew it,” he repeated. “Oh man, Giorno owes me so much money.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Fugo demanded as his face began to burn bright red.
“Oh, come on, Fugo. I know you’re smart, you can put two and two together,” Mista chided.
Fugo threw one of the couch pillows at him in retaliation, which he easily dodged.
“Man, getting a girlfriend has given you poor aim. You need to focus less on kissing Trish and more on perfecting your throw.”
With an angry huff, Fugo got up roughly from the couch and made his way over to Mista, looking almost like he was going to hit him. However, it didn’t take long for Mista to wrestle him to the floor and sit on his back, effectively pinning him.
“Get off me,” Fugo protested, swinging his arms around to try and grab his friend.
Mista crossed his arms playfully. “No, not if you’re going to have that attitude.”
Trish laughed, surprising herself as much as she did the two of them. “Sorry, you guys are just funny,” she said between giggles.
That was only part of it though. It was a laugh of relief, the constant tension in her chest easing in the slightest. Two friends bickering and play-fighting was such a normal thing to see, and normalcy hadn’t been all that common lately.
She watched the two of them for a bit more, Fugo struggling and eventually giving up so Mista would get off of him. They spent the rest of the night listening to Mista list off various spots around the city that he considered to be ideal locations for dates. A few sounded like they might actually be nice, and she made mental notes of where she’d like to visit. Eventually they drifted into casual conversation, laughing about anything and everything they could think of, Trish’s hand interlocked with Fugo’s the whole time.