Chapter Text
—Purple Haze—
It seemed to take forever, drowning in the pain and anguish, but in reality was swift and rapid.
A rabid animal, that’s what Fugo that it was.
A disgusting, violent, and dirty creature, to be locked away and forgotten.
—The Bar—
It was a dreary place, abundant with middle-aged men, office workers, prostitutes, and all of the other miserable individuals that came to wallow in self-pity at the bar Fugo worked at.
Originally, Fugo applied as wait staff, serving drinks and food, receiving meager pay, headache inducing workplace conditions. He saw it as a fit job for a boy like him.
Unloyal, cowardly,
A burden.
Due to some other guy, similarly unloyal, quitting, Fugo managed to seize the empty position, he was now a pianist working at a bar called “Peroni’s” in Venice, Italy. Slightly better pay, still headache worthy work conditions.
His first day working, he wasn’t the slightest bit nervous, confident in the precision of his long, thin fingers. His expression radiated raging pride.
He already knew where the entrance to the staff door was, due to his waiter era previous.
Swiftly picking up his keys from his mulberry cardigan, its color dull as a consequence of being worn for nearly two decades, and never washed properly. He wrestled with the door knob for a bit before it had finally surrendered.
The staff room was cold, probably because none of the windows shut right.
The constant buzz of the A/C that occupied the otherwise silent room had always irritated Fugo. The morning crew routinely forgot to turn it off, he should leave them a note next time.
Nonetheless, Fugo was in a good mood tonight, his fingers felt warmed up and he had had an uneventful day. Fugo was sure that tonight was going to be one of the very few nights he went all out.
He shook off his cardigan, a gift from…family.
He folded it and plopped it onto the vanity. A gothic shaped mirror, with regal swirls and patterns engulfing it. It was a simple, yet elegant vanity, savannah brown in color, smooth and shiny, other than the scrapes he found scattered about. But it was still such a beautiful vanity. He had always admired its magnificence,
Bruno’s magnificence. His white suit, always raining black tears. His azure eyes, roaring his passion like the sea. His kind heart, able to love any creature, monster, or beast that stood before him.
“Good evening Panna.”