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The day Fugo realized he had been in love wasn’t anything special. The sky above Naples was spotty with clouds and it was a little too chilly to be outside, but not cold enough to get any fun out of cold weather things. In fact the wind speed was supposed to be higher than normal, which couldn't help but rattle the loose shingles on neighboring buildings. All things considered, it was not a great day for Fugo who had been up and about outside thanks to business that needed to be taken care of.
The holes in his suit provided him no cover from the wind, and flushed out any heat his body could make on its own. Thankfully his section of the gang didn’t have any current mission that they were needed to carry out, nor any scheduling to get a new plan in the following week or so. That being said, chores still had to be done, which is where Fugo came in.
Unfortunately it was his turn to go and get things for their group when the good weather turned tail and God decided that today he didn’t like Fugo very much. He spent a good portion of the day getting needed supplies, most of which was food and hygiene products. Another thing you should know is that when groceries are needed, they are usually needed pretty badly.
Not that his teammates were going to starve to death if he didn’t get everything on the list, stat, but that their profession left much to be desired in terms of privacy. Even if they weren’t doing anything particularly important at the moment, you don’t join the Passone with at least one thing that would warrant revenge. So the plan was usually to only go out twice a month and buy in bulk.
This meant that everything would take so much longer than it would because instead of buying enough for you to feed a few people for a few days, you need to get enough to hold over a group of around six young adults for two weeks. Sure, they ate out a lot thanks to Bruno’s charismatic habits of making new friends, but it was always best to stock up. On average the trip to get everything everyone needed took about five hours.
Five hours of driving and browsing and picking up and checking the list for the fourth time to make sure he had gotten everything, because if he didn’t he’d be responsible for the next big trip out as punishment. It was into evening when Fugo was done with his menial chores for their little family, and the annoyance on his face was present when he started to carry bags inside.
Days like this always wore down his patients one way or another until the slightest inconvenience could set him down the path of violence. Lugging everything inside and putting it all away was a task of its own but thankfully much shorter than the adventure he had just had to go on. Once he was done, with no thanks from anyone on his team, he let out a sign and walked to his own room.
Bruno had legally bought a house a while back because it was easier and less expensive than renting when they weren’t on the move. Sure it was a bit riskier but it really did help ease the stress of everyone because unlike other mobsters, they really did have a place to call home.
Fugo walked into his room just to see another annoyance there waiting for him. Narancia was at his desk, lamp pointed to give him light while he worked on problems from a standard textbook. He wasn’t in school yet, but he was still trying to learn and keep up at the same level other kids his age were at. Narancia was hoping he’d learn everything in time to have a senior year but the way things were going, he probably would just have to take the GED.
Back when they had first met, Narancia had explained why he had dropped out too early, and why he couldn’t afford to go back just yet. Fugo had sympathized with him at the time and decided to put his own intellect to use, to teach Narancia so he could at least feel educated. Now however, after a long day in the chilly cold, doing something he didn’t like doing, he wasn’t feeling like much of a teacher.
Narancia turned the moment that the door opened, greeting Fugo with a small smile. “Hey, you’re back.” He said, pushing his notebook towards him. “Do you think that you could take a look at my work? I’ve been doing it for a while and I want to know if I got anything wrong.”
“Why are you in my room?” Fugo asked, ignoring his friend’s question for the time being.
“The heater in my room broke and Abbacchio kicked me out of the living room. He and Bruno are trying to do something, I don’t know what. Mista got kicked out too, but that’s because he was trying to show off a party trick he learned and broke a lamp. Giorno is out, because he’s crazy and thinks the cold is fun.” He said, leaning against the desk and putting his head on the wood.
Fugo just gave a small ‘mmm’ of confirmation before taking his shoes off and placing them by the front of his own door. He loosened his tie a little, not wanting to take it off just yet but also getting slightly more comfortable now that he was in his own space. ‘Sounds like Mista.”
Once he had decompressed a little, he reached for Narancia’s notes and looked it over. While he was evaluating Narancia’s work, he heard the sound of music, which he previously hadn’t noticed, get louder. So apparently, he found it fit to bring his boombox with him into Fugo’s room. He ignored the noise, knowing that neither would win this fight if he brought it up. It was better to just save his energy.
“Okay so here,” Fugo said, leaning over and pointing to one particular problem. “You missed a negative sign and forgot to add it, which would make a negative six. Then when you subtract three that makes it a negative nine, not a positive three.” He explained, making sure that Narancia was following along with him.
He nodded, erasing what he got wrong and changing it. “Thanks, Fugo!” Narancia hummed with a smile, correcting what had gone wrong and continued to do the equation from where he had left off. “You’ll stick around right? I still have a lot to do before I’m done for the day.”
Fugo sighed in reluctant agreement, pulling up a spare chair he had specifically because he and Narnacia studied in his room quite a bit. Most of their “studying” was really Fugo watching over his shoulder as he worked on what was mostly math. Even though the music he was playing was a little distracting, Fugo let it go on because it really did seem to help Narancia. Not in terms of focus but how much longer he could study.
The music from the boombox was still soft. So much so, Fugo could barely make out the words. He put his elbow on the desk and his head in his hand, watching as Narancia scribbled out his work on his own notebook, occasionally looking over to read something from the textbook.
He let out a small huff of air, letting his eyes wander from the page to Narnacia’s face. So today hadn’t been the best, but when things were quiet like this, and the sound of pencil against paper could just barely be heard, the world got a little bit better. Things were a little bit softer. The air was a little bit warmer.
He was only snapped out of it once Narancia had pushed himself up from the table, immediately going to turn up the volume of the boombox. Fugo jumped a little at the sudden movement, only able to blink at Narancia. “Oh, I love this song! I’m taking a break!” He said without waiting for a response.
Fugo rolled his eyes and leaned back in his own chair. Of course Narancia would stop because a song came on the radio. He realized while leaning back that his smile had disappeared. Which was odd, because he hadn’t even noticed that he was smiling at all. The strange sensation made him touch his own cheek with curiosity. Today had been nothing but work, so what with the smile?
His attention was taken away by movement from the corner of his eye. Narancia had started to dance in his room, almost tripping over Fugo’s carpet more than once. Fugo couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were closed as Narancia did what could be only considered a twirl. His ‘not-skirt’ as Narancia would have called it spun with him, floating back and forth with each movement he made.
Narancia couldn’t stay still, jumping back and forth from each beat of the bass, an arm movement for every chord of the guitar and fancy footwork for each tap of the drums. He couldn’t tell if they were good dance moves, but they were certainly something he was finding difficult to not pay attention to. Fugo didn’t know what was playing but he was confident it was his new favorite song now.
Soon it ended and Narancia opened his eyes, dizzy and a bit dazed but the color in his cheeks and the smile on his face showed that he was clearly happy. Panting just a little bit, he sat back down in his seat, picking his pencil up and clicking his tongue. “Back to work!”
Fugo hummed again and put his head back in his hands only to realize that his cheeks had gotten hot. He sat up straight at the warmth, causing Narancia to give him a look. He just swallowed the lump in his throat as his attention was turned back to his paper. Fugo pursed his lips and looked away, feeling a pulsing in his ears. It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, but it wasn’t quite known yet either.
And then it hit him.
It hit him while Narancia was working hard at studying for some semblance of an education. It hit him while he had been dancing in his room, and it had hit him that morning when he was wished good luck before he left. It hit him with every good morning and good night. He realized that he was in love with Narancia Ghirga, and he had never felt better.
“Hey,” Fugo said, tapping Narancia’s arm gently. “You’re a terrible dancer.”
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Narancia had realized before that moment however. That night had been much nicer, with clear skies and warm weather. But that’s not what had made the day perfect, no, far from anything like that. It was a perfect day because he had something to celebrate. It was his mom’s birthday today. Since she had died a long time ago, he had decided to celebrate for her. He wasn’t sure if she would be happy with where he was at now in life, in the italian mafia hanging out with adults and doing crime. Well, crime with morality, but it was crime nonetheless. Maybe she wouldn’t be, and she would rather kick him out than see him as a gangster, but there is no way to find out for sure now, and there never would be.
So instead of celebrating what would be another year for her, he celebrated the years of happiness he had found after her death. Sure, she might not like the crowd that he was hanging with now, but he was confident that she would be happy that he had continued to find family after.
His celebration was personal and secret to himself. No need to bring down the mood by reminding everyone that his mother had died when he could keep it to himself. So yeah, that day had been pretty good. Narancia had treated himself to a good time, riding his bike and pushing his normal work to the side for the day so he had time to do what he wanted.
Now it had come to a relaxing end with a nice late snack in Bruno’s kitchen. Mista was in the living room, making sure that Sex Bullets were all fed and well. Giorno was with Mista, just witnessing the phenomenon that was Mista’s stand. Abbacchio and Bruno were dining in the kitchen, talking about personal affairs and planning out schedules for the future business wise.
There wasn’t a bad feeling in the house. Just peace and quiet as the hum of some trash TV show that had haphazardly put on filled just the right amount of air. Narancia couldn’t hear it, however, he had his headphones in and on loudly so everything else had been blocked off in his head. His head bopped as he opened their rather large refrigerator, looking through what there was to eat.
In the refrigerator things had been split up in six different ways for the six residence of the house to keep with personal tastes and diets and such. Top right was Bruno with mostly leftover pasta, top left was Fugo with spicy things and soup, right center was Mista with assortments junk food including strawberry cake, center left was Giorno having an assortment of fruits and small objects he’d make into a snack later, bottom right was Abbacchio with wine, and bottom left was Narancia with mostly rabbit food.
He and Abbacchio had the pull out compartments for themselves. Narancia had them because it was easier to keep his veggies fresh and Abbacchio had them because he didn’t want any of the underaged kids to get into his wine. Or at least that’s the excuse he gave to hog all that space for himself.
Narancia pulled open the compartment and rummaged around for something that could be eaten without much preparation. After a while he gave up and grabbed something from Mista’s area, not bothering to abide by the sacred rules of food thieving. Well at least when it came to Mista, he didn’t bother taking anything from anyone else. Just Mista.
Closing the refrigerator door, he opened Mista’s chips as he stood there, moving along to the music in his ears. Soon he got a tap on his shoulders and he turned around, pushing one headphone off of his ear. Instead of it being an angry Mista like he had expected, he got Fugo instead. Not that he was complaining about not having to deal with his other friend.
“I thought you were the one who told me it’s unhealthy to eat after nine.” He said, gesturing to the kitchen clock on the stove that read it was eleven thirty.
Narancia rolled his eyes and popped a chip in his mouth. “Whoa, good thing that time is an illusion.” He snickered slightly to himself.
Fugo scoffed and leaned against the wall, putting his foot on it as well so his back was slightly arched. “Yeah well don’t tell me shit if you don’t want to hear it thrown back at you later.” He said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Before he could continue, Abbacchio yelled at him from the dining table. “Fugo! Get your foot off the wall! I don’t know what you’ve been walking around in, and you’re going to make a print!” He snapped, momentarily stopping his conversation with Bruno to scold Fugo for possibly causing a mess.
“Leone, it’s not that big a deal. If he does make a mess then we’ll just make him clean it up, so calm down.” Bruno said, putting one hand on Abbacchio’s shoulder. “Just control yourself and drink your juice.”
“Yeah mom, drink your wine!” Fugo called back looking to pick a fight with Abbacchio, which made Narancia short in amusement.
Abbacchio stood up from the table, shoving it a little backwards. “Maybe I should!” He snapped, walking to the fridge and pulling it open, grabbing a bottle of red wine from his compartment and pulling off the cork with his teeth, spitting it out on the floor. He was planning to finish it all anyways.
“Little bastards, don’t even pay rent!” Abbacchio glared at the two of them before walking away, already taking sips at his bottle.
Bruno immediately followed him, having known Abbacchio the longest he knew how he could get when something pissed him off this much. Or maybe he was just pretending so he could be alone for a while. Either was incredibly in character for someone who always seems to have sand in his underwear. “Leone!” He called out, immediately following after him.
Narancia giggled to himself at the interaction before going back to eating Mista’s barbeque flavored chips. Fugo stopped leaning against the wall and went to the pantry, that was a lot more communal than the refrigerator was. He pulled out a few things, like spaghetti noodles, marinara sauce, and grabbed a pan and pot as well to cook.
Fugo turned on the stove before filling the pot with water and placing it on the hot circle of the stove. “Well sense time is an illusion, I can make myself some pasta.” He said, a small smile creeping to his face.
“Good on you, man.” Narancia said, throwing his head back and catching the chip crumbs in his mouth. Which is always the best bite.
He went to the fridge one more time to grab a pound of ground beef he had defrosting in his area. At the sight Narancia couldn't help but wrinkle his nose a bit at the sight. Sure, he was mostly vegetarian but beef sort of made his stomach churn. He preferred chicken which was lighter and didn’t have as much… juice.
“What, pasta not good enough for his majesty? Maybe I should dine on perjured chips from my friends?” Fugo said snarkily as he started to heat up the pan.
Narancia shook his head quickly in response. “No, not at all! It’s nothing, I know it’s your food but I just can’t imagine adding beef to pasta. Crazy right? Most Italian pasta has meat in it, but I say the simpler the better, right?”
“I’m not saying you don’t have a point, but I am saying your point is crazy and should absolutely be ignored.” Fugo said, peeling the plastic off the ground beef and plopping it on the hot pan with a sizzle.
He shrugged and crumpled up the empty bad and tossed it in the trash, missing at first then going to pick it up and the cork for Abbacchio’s wine while he was at it. “Well, that’s it, I’m turning in for the night! Had a long nice day and now I’m tired. Good night, Pannacotta!”
Fugo choked on air slightly knowing Narancia only used his first name to tease him. “Whatever.” He said, opening the box of spaghetti and snapping the noodles in half before tossing it all in the boiling water. “Oh, and hey!”
Narnacia stopped, finally taking his headphones off completely. “Yeah?”
Fugo smiled at him genuinely. “Good night and sweet dreams. I hope you had a good day, you really were in a better mood than normal.”
All of a sudden Narancia’s throat felt dry and the room got a little bit warmer than it was before. “Yeah, you too Fugo.” He said with a grin, hopping off to bed, passing Mista who was arguing with his own stand about portion sizes and Giorno who had fallen asleep on the couch.
Once in bed, Narancia pushed his headphones to the side and off to the side before laying on his stomach and letting out a tired sigh. He still felt hot despite the temperature as he buried his face in his pillow. Something didn’t sit right in his stomach. It was like he had swallowed a stone a little too large to digest. This always seemed to happen somehow and he couldn’t understand it. But now he was too tired to decipher the sugary feeling he got.
That morning he woke up to a ray of sunlight beaming across his eyes, which is not the nicest thing to see when you just immediately open your eyes. Narancia groaned and turned, burning his head into his mattress in an attempt to block out the morning. After a while he gave into the day night cycle and got up, kicking the blankets onto the floor.
He tried to wipe off the drool on his shirt with no avail. Eventually he made his way out of bed and out of his own room. Everyone else seemed to be up before him. Everyone except for Abbacchio who was probably, all things considered, passed out in his bed and would be until late noon.
Narancia greeted his teammates with a tired hello before deciding he was hungry and trudged his way to the refrigerator. He bent down and opened his personal compartment, preparing to make himself a salad for breakfast when he noticed something. On top of his fresh assortment of vegetables was a single Tupperware container.
Out of curiosity he pulled it out of his compartment, pulling off the lid. He hadn’t remembered making anything… Inside was a portion of pasta with red sauce. No meat. At first Narancia was confused, because was it possible someone placed their leftovers in the wrong compartment? No, it was pretty hard to misplace it in his space.
And then it hit him. Fugo had put aside some of his food for Narancia, and made it just the way he liked it, plain. All of a sudden that surgery sticky feeling came back again and pooled in the pit of his stomach. It came back with warmth to his cheeks as he half imagined his friend putting aside something and all for him. He started to realize what the big connector to this feeling was, and all of a sudden everything started to unwind.
Pannacotta Fugo had been at the center of it all. With every angry outburst there was a hint of passion and care and Narancia… he fell in love with it. Maybe not conventionally, and maybe it wasn’t as strong as he thought it would be, but it was there and it would eventually bubble up into something bigger wouldn’t it?
Narancia grinned happily, not even embarrassed about how red his cheeks had gotten just thinking about it. He was biting his own lip so he could keep the happy giggle to himself. It was such a shame that Fugo was a terrible cook.
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Months after both had realized, there was the perfect moment. Alone together in Bruno’s living room in the early hours of the morning. Mista had put on some movie channel but was long asleep by now. It was just them alone in the dark, on the couch. Narancia swallowed the same sugary rock he had been for the past few months around Fugo and decided he was wanting.
Smitten filled and tired, he reached over and brushed against Fugo’s arm. He was pulled out of his dazed state and gave Narancia his full attention from then on. “Hm?” He answered, wondering what his friend could possibly want.
Without a word Narancia climbed closer to Fugo, running his hand down Fugo’s arm before eventually biting the bullet and holding his hand. The other’s breath was suddenly stuck in his throat as a guy he was convinced had better chances for someone else leaned against him. Not wanting to miss an opportunity, he locked fingers with him.
“Hey, do you like this movie, or do you think that it sucks?” He mumbled under his breath, head against one of the holes in Fugo’s coat that he never seemed to not be wearing.
“Mm… I like it.” He answered, not able to go much more into detail.
Narancia sucked in air before asking another question. “What about the last movie? Did you like that one?”
“Yeah. That one was okay too.”
He hesitated as the sugary rock melted a little more in his stomach. “Fugo, I like you. You’re really pretty and I think that if you feel the same that it would be really fun if I could carry you places. And it would also be really fun if we did stuff like… go out together and stuff.” Narancia mumbled, barely loud enough to be heard. “Do you like me too?”
The silence was deafening and with each second that past with no answer, Narancia felt a little closer to death. Finally it was all illuminated. “I would. If you weren’t so bad at math.” Fugo snorted, unable to take his own joke seriously enough to hold it together for the punchline.
“You’re an idiot!” Narancia responded, suddenly smiling and breaking out in giggles.
The two tried to keep it together best they could, but nothing seemed to work despite their collected efforts. Fugo pushed his not-just-a-friend up off of his shoulder just to bend down with laughter, covering his red face with his hands. God he was burning up, but it felt really nice to burn up for a change.
After a while Narancia pulled him up, the giddy smile on their faces just barely seen by the light of the TV screen. Even in the dim, unflattering light, Fugo’s purple eyes were just as hypnotizing as ever. And that was it, Narancia decided to take the step and go for it. What was the rule when you want to kiss someone? Ninety to ten right?
So he leaned in slowly, pressing his forehead to Fugo’s and reaching up and touching his shoulder, and he went ninety. Fugo’s flush was still visible somehow, and the heat radiated off of his cheeks. So Fugo went ten, clenching his fists loosely in the fabric of his own shirt as he leaned forward.
Briefly their lips touched, warm and chapped. It lasted less than a second. They pulled away but the touch lingered for a long time after. Fugo reached out and pulled Narancia into a hug, pushing him down onto the couch with his head on his chest. “Whoa hey, does that mean it was good or bad?” Narancia asked almost jokingly.
“Good.” Fugo muttered gently. “Just tired. And also I lied… This movie sucks.”
They giggled again and Narancia reached up to play with Fugo’s hair. Sooner than either would have liked, they fell asleep on top of each other. Unfortunately the next morning they had to wake up to Mista who pestered them about what they had been doing. Well, you win some, you lose some. And as far as they were concerned, they had both won.