Chapter Text
They were late, 45 minutes late. When Narancia started living in the old apartment with Bruno and Fugo the first thing they did was to force him to learn the address and the phone number; then when Abbacchio moved out too and Mista arrived they had to find a new place, more spacious and with at least two bathrooms, so he also had to learn that phone number. Narancia was not the voice of reason ever, at least he had not had to be, but now he was annoyed throwing coins into an old phone in the square to let Bucciarati know that they were well and that they were late, 45 fucking minutes late, because Mista did not stop flirting with every girl that came their way.
When Mista arrived to the group Narancia was not entirely happy, because Mista was older than him and that, in Narancia's eyes, was a superior. He had enough with having to deal with Fugo and his superiority complex just because he kept track of all the money Bruno earned with the gang and distributed it according to everyone's needs, so when Mista told him to go to a second hand clothing store to save his allowance he took it as the beginning of a relationship worth trying. That day Narancia realized two things, that he was slightly gay and that maybe he was also slightly not just a guy.
Among the clothes there was a lot to choose from, so they were both looking for something interesting.
"Hey! Let's do something fun... whoever finds the coolest clothes wins, the loser had to buy pizza for the other" Mista said excitedly as he hid his gun in his pants, Narancia smiled hugely and nodded his head before running off to the large piles of leather clothes in one corner of the store.
His outfit consisted of a pair of leather pants that still had a tag on it, which made it look new, and a used top from some poor gothic soul who had gotten rid of his belongings, Abbacchio would be completely jealous. There were no studs but the straps gave it a tough and totally awesome feel.
"Hey girl, this might suit you too... It fits your synthetic leather leggings" Said a strange girl who held out a few skirts. Narancia wasn't sure whether to feel good or bad about it, but the girl had been nice so he decided to ignore it, he didn't have time for that if he wanted to beat Mista. So he took everything and put it all on a dresser, if he told Fugo that he had been wearing used clothes from who knows where he would probably make him wash it off with legia. Fugo was like that, Narancia loved him but sometimes he just didn't quite understand him, they didn't talk much about the past but Fugo once told him that he had also lived on the streets for a while, so he didn't understand why he was so fussy about cleanliness and always scratched his body, especially his arms when something got him a little dirty or when someone touched him unintentionally, he would tense up like a freshly tuned violin string and if he didn't have a fit of rage it looked like he was going to break in pieces. Narancia didn't discuss it with him, he pretended it didn't happen just as Fugo pretended not to see him get scared when something hurt his eyes or when he woke up from nightmares, both did sometimes, the nightmares didn't go away.
He saw himself in the mirror then, with all that leather but something was missing, maybe the girl was right and just out of curiosity he decided to put on the skirts over the outfit, there were several colors but none seemed to satisfy him. The pattern with small squares here and there on the orange fabric was interesting, it reminded him of one of those paintings in Fugo's books.
He put it on and then the world seemed to break a crack. Why did he like it? But why did he feel so bad? What would his mother think? Would she still love him even if he was there, in a gang? Would she love him even if he was there with a skirt on feeling that he fit right into it? That it had been made just for him to wear over that fake leather?
"Hey dude look what I found... oh shit, sorry miss!" shouted Mista who had opened the fitting room curtain, he was wearing a pair of red pants with tiger print, was it tiger or zebra? And a bundle of ugly Christmas sweaters.
Narancia let out a giggle, Mista's grief-stricken look was cute, almost too cute, his face flushed with embarrassment and his hands trembling a little as he let go of the curtain again.
"It's me... you idiot" He said behind the curtain and Mista opened it again this time more carefully.
"Woah... I swear I thought... okay, you'd be a totally cool girl" Guido laughed and this time it was Narancia's turn to blush.
"Does that mean I win?!" He tried to deflect the conversation and Mista pouted.
"Don't claim victory, we're not done yet."
When they got home, unanimously Narancia won. Although Fugo said something like "Why are you asking me this? I'm the least qualified to judge your shitty taste" To which Abbacchio had to nod.
Narancia hung up the phone after Bruno let out an exasperated sigh of defeat, normally Abbacchio or Fugo would be better partners in for Mista in these situations because there was no way Mista could drag them into her late night flirtations but Leone and Fugo had had to go out and Bruno had some reports to finish, so Narancia ended up stuck with Guido and his heart shattering every time he said something stupidly cheesy to the girls he bumped into.
"Enough... Mista please!" Narancia squealed after the last woman had said goodbye to him, she had given him a small piece of paper with her number on it and smiled before running to catch a cab "I'm fed up, can we go now?" He emphasized the last word.
Mista smiled with something akin to arrogance and put her arm around Narancia.
"Oh, the little boy can't stand that I have charm?! Come on, relax. I promise to take you to a bar to drink when you turn 18... I'll teach you how to get any girl interested in you!"
Narancia felt a pang of pain in his heart, Mista's scent that for once wasn't just sweat and gunpowder filled his lungs. He didn't want girls to pay attention to him, he didn't want a boy either, he just wanted Mista. That those flirtatious smiles and sweet romantic talk would be for him. But at the same time it gave him guilt, he was always beating himself up with thoughts of his mother. What would his mother think of Mista?
Mela was a woman full of life, when she was alive, his father on the other hand was always half dead. Narancia thought it was unfair that she was the one who was now in a cold coffin and not the asshole of his father, he never understood how his mother fell in love with him, but if it had not been so he would not be here now, surrounded by the arm of Mista, who seemed infinitely happy and only a little drunk from the drinks that the owner of the casino gave them when they went to get the protection money for Polpo.
When they arrived home everything was dark except the kitchen, Bruno had left dinner served and covered with plastic wrap. Mista sat down to eat and Narancia went to the bathroom first, he looked at himself in the mirror for a few long seconds that seemed like hours, there between the white tiled walls, with his eyelids heavy and his hair more disheveled than usual, he allowed himself to let out three miserable tears of frustration before going with Mista to eat something before lying down to sleep.