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Naivety and hope were two things that he possessed, two things that differentiated him from the rest of the team. He had been obligated to grow up, yet his stubborn self had refused to do so. Narancia was a kid with the skills of an assassin. A young soul with too many burdens on his shoulders.
He could not afford to grow up when his plan was to someday live the years that he had once lost once a divine force, we could perhaps call it destiny, decided to throw at him as many obstacles and tragedies as it could. Maybe after it all was over, maybe he could reclaim his right to a peaceful life. He would go back to school and he would make new friends, with whom he would play games and eat pizza on Saturdays. He would be free of the mafia and he would not be betrayed again.
But that won't happen, Fugo had wanted to say as he heard Narancia spill his dreams to him.
He could not bring himself to say those words out loud, preferring to keep them to himself in order to protect the childish optimism that often lifted his spirit —a fact that he refused to fully accept. Instead, he tried to bring the attention back to the assignment that they were working on.
“Then try to learn the basics, for the sake of your future professors,” he sighed. “It will be embarrassing for both you and I if you can't manage to answer something as easy as this. I'm sure you can do it, Narancia. You've done more complicated stuff before.”
“Maybe I'll get a teacher that is actually patient with me,” Narancia quickly shot at him.
Fugo's calm demeanour broke.
“I'm as patient as I can be, Narancia!” Fugo practically screeched, as he lunged towards him and held him by the collar. "Be more grateful because I could leave any time if I want to."
He did not want to leave, that was yet another thing that he would keep to himself.
Just before Narancia could stab Fugo with a pencil, as for once he did not carry his blade, something changed, dissipating the tension between the pair. A loud laugh came out of Narancia, catching Fugo off guard. He loosened his grip on the older one, the confusion caused by the strange reaction could somehow overpower the anger caused by being laughed at.
“Then leave!” Narancia replied between giggles. “You won't! I know you won't! You could've just refused to teach me but you didn't, so you won't leave now. That's against the Fugo Code.”
Ghirga had apparently become good at reading Fugo.
“I got it, didn't I?” He smiled wide.
Fugo still looked as confused as if he were a kid and Narancia was speaking to him in an unknown language. The difference being that Narancia was speaking to him in a language that he understood very well, which was the exact reason why he did not quite know how to react.
Fugo could not leave because, firstly, he was a proud and obstinate person. Secondly, because he appreciated Narancia and he genuinely wanted to help him achieve whatever kind of goal he had in mind, even if he doubted it could actually be reached. He hoped Narancia had only caught up to the first reason, and that the second reason would remain a mystery for at least a long while.
“No,” Fugo replied, when he finally came out of the trance he had forcefully been pushed into. "You got it wrong. I am, in fact, leaving."
The bright smile on Narancia's face disappeared almost immediately, when Fugo finally released his grip on him and started to get up. He frowned.
“But you'll be back, right?” He asked, because he genuinely believed that he would.
Fugo shrugged.
"You could stop me from leaving, I guess."
Narancia took the chance to stop him.
“I knew it!” The smile returned to his face.
Back on track, Narancia and Fugo continued their improvised classes. He probably did not notice —because if he did, he would have pointed it out—, but this time Fugo was the one getting distracted.
Narancia never really let Fugo down during the time they spent together. He knew what to expect from him, and even when he did not do what he wanted in the first try, he never gave up. They learnt to work together, not only in battle, but in life.
Ghirga was pushy and annoying, and Pannacotta was independent and short-tempered. No, they were both short-tempered. They were quite different in many aspects, but their similarities shone every once in a while. It would have been a terrible combination if fate had not been involved, intertwining their destinies and making sure they would always gravitate towards each other.
They were bound by a string of fate. Someone might claim that they were soulmates and, if they were ever told that, they would have agreed in silence, but never out loud.
However, there is a first time for everything.
That afternoon, after Bucciarati’s unpredictable announcement of betrayal, Narancia finally did what Fugo had prayed it would never happen.
He disappointed Fugo, in a way that hurt just way too much, making it impossible for Fugo to feel angry at him. He had no right to get mad, and he was aware of that. He did not even know what he wanted; he could not make up his mind.
Fugo wanted to protect Narancia’s dream, but he also wanted to be with him while he reached it. He wanted to meet Narancia after school, and he wanted to see what kind of people he would meet. He would tell Naran’ if one of his classmates was trying to take advantage of him, and he would maybe, just maybe, make more friends of his own. Against his will (but not really) he would go alongside Narancia when they decided to hang out.
He was not sure what he wanted Narancia to do, he just knew what he wanted the outcome to be. Fugo wanted to stay by Narancia’s side.
He thought that maybe Narancia should have convinced him to go with the team. Maybe if they had had more time to talk about it, Narancia would have lit a spark in him, filling him with the initiative to follow Bucciarati and Giorno. Or maybe Narancia should have stayed with him. Maybe he should have thought more about Fugo’s words, and maybe he should have reassured him that he was making a good decision.
But none of that happened.
Narancia chose those noble traitors, leaving Fugo behind.
The string connecting them could not be broken, though. It just stretched painfully.
Fugo wished that had not been the last time they saw each other. When he turned away from the group, he walked with the hope of meeting Narancia in a few years. He was a coward, but if he was given enough time, he would manage to make their paths converge again.
They usually said that Narancia was still a kid, but no one seemed to point out that Fugo was just a kid as well. He was known for being a voice of reason most of the time, so it was easy to forget that he was also fighting his own inner battles.
He had so many regrets.
And this was the biggest one.
Walking alone, having no one to lean on, he tried to remember Narancia’s smile. His laugh. His silly comments and spontaneous remarks. He did not want to think of his desperate cries and the way he trembled. He wanted to think only of the good moments they shared, as he finally realised that they would never meet again.
Not in this life, at least.
But he could not.
He tried so hard, yet he failed.
He just wished Narancia would forgive him for losing hope. Even though he believed he did not deserve forgiveness.