Chapter Text
You watched the face on national television, the cup of coffee you were holding just a few seconds ago, now painting the marble floor with a sad shade of brown. It was as if though an icy hand had gripped your heart, simultaneously freezing all the blood that runs in your veins.
You watched the picture of the unidentified figure in the black mask, knowing full well exactly who it was. It couldn't be. That picture perfect smile challenged the poor quality of the footage, flashing across the scene.
You watched as the reporter announced a manhunt for the suspect. All you could do was watch as the other half of your heart slowly faded away.
The cold droplets of water rushed down your body, colliding just hard enough to make you wince at the feeling. You didn't understand why your private Maryland high school resumed session smack in the middle of January- would an extra few days of winter break really hurt? As you slipped out of the shower and into your uniform, you anticipated the upcoming year in your head, dolling up in your upperclass family home. Your home stood tall, with one of those large porches and tiled roofs. It told the world exactly what they needed to know about your family's affluence, and it had done its job, for there was not a person in Baltimore who had not heard of the L/N family.
Being the only daughter of the L/Ns meant that you had to make something of yourself, and what better way to do that than following your parent's legacy and attending the University of Pennsylvania? Surely, you were destined to get in, there was simply no denying it. Y/N L/N had done everything right: study hard, initiate leadership activities, be a part of your community, push past her limits- UPenn was where you were meant to be. Buckling up into the backseat of your car, you told yourself that you'd better maintain that for the next few years.
"There's my girl!", yelled a familiar voice from the back of the classroom. "Y/N, why didn't you come to Tristian Cheng's party?", questioned Sara, your best friend. You tried to hide the familiar twinge of pain in your chest. "Oh, I was busy, I don't really like Tristian," you muttered, acting like you were actually invited. Sara cocked her head to the side. "Alright then," she smiled. Your friend's enthusiastic conversation faded away and you seemed to become a part of the background noise as your dropped your head and lay on your desk, exhausted already. The academic year had been merciless- debate tournament after debate tournament, with all those calculus tests following suite.
As a crows of excited girls chattered alongside Sara about all the latest gossip you overheard a sentence that piqued your interest.
"Are you going to that Model UN conference in Gilman?"
"Um, yeah, duh! Imagine the amount of eye candy there!" one of your classmates gushed. "God, I really need to catch someone's eye. Have yall seen the guys at Gilman?"
Sara scrunched her nose. "Why guys from Gilman? Yeah, I get that the guys from our school don't have the same level of appeal, but I'm sure there's not much of a difference- guys can be jerks anywhere. Besides, Model UN isn't really my thing."
"Ever the STEM girl," you smiled, turning to your excited classmates. Kicking off the final months of the academic year with yet another win wouldn't hurt.
"So how much is the registration fee?"
Language had always been your thing- you'd spend hours studying for math and barely manage an A, but all you had to do was read through 'The Great Gatsby' once to attain the highest grades in your class. You checked your watch, seated at the crowded hall in Gilman School. Ah, Model UN: your favorite extracurricular activity. Why not pretened to be a world leader to nuke the country of another representative just because they looked at you the wrong way? Not that you'd do that, of course. You're a top-notch debater and hence the perfect delegate (hey, but you're humble about it). Your thoughts were interrupted by a voice.
"You should be careful about healthcare."
Your eyes shot over to the source of the voice.
"Excuse me?"
"I said that your healthcare system is a weak point in your stance." A boy that looked to be about your age leaned in towards you slightly. "As the delegate of the USA," he motioned towards the portfolio open on your laptop, "you should be careful about that. Keeping in mind that our committee is about social and economic issues."
Irked, you tried to put on your best nice-girl voice. "Yes, I'll do it as I see fit," you said, plastering a not-so-genuine smile on your face. "...and you might be...?"
The boy in front of you responded with a small smile, seemingly masking the slightest bit of cockiness. "Luigi. Luigi Mangione."
You blinked. "Er... your country allocation?"
"Oh, apologies. I'm the delegate of..."
You scoffed internally. Did this guy really think that you wanted his name? You were here for business, and you weren't leaving this conference without an award. Maybe Sara was right after all: guys can be jerks anywhere. You were here to win, and you had to stay focused if you wanted that certificate.
Now, you didn't know whether it was your fried attention span or your hormones that had failed you, but your eyes drifted to the features of the boy, only now taking the sight in fully. A pair of dark eyes stared back at yours, decorated with thick eyebrows just above them. Soft, curved lips moved rhythmically with the slightly deep and strangely attractive voice now escaping them. Something about those naturally voluminous curls ignited something on the tip of your fingers, as if though they were touch starved, and those soft locks were they only things that could satisfy them.
"...is really quite underexaggerated. Will you support my proposal?"
You snapped back, trying to come up with something that would make it seem like you were listening. He may have tried to mansplain your own stance to you, but you didn't want to make enemies before the debate even started. "Oh, I-"
Luckily, you were cut off by some other tryhard trying to lobby Luigi onto their side. His attention was shifted away from you. You let out a sigh of relief (or maybe disappointment) and focused your gaze back to your laptop, trying to type some formal speech after that awkward interaction, mildly upset that your one potentially exciting male interaction was purely professional. Your fingers worked their magic with your mind as you typed out the last sentence:
"...is our foreign policy. We want to emphasise the fact that what may seem like the most miniscule of discussions and dialogue can spark the biggest of changes."
Can you believe the audacity of some people?
You sat there, fuming with silent rage. Who did this Maglione or whatever guy think he was?
You thought you had this conference at the back of your hand. Boy, were you wrong! Not only did Macaroni or whatever have the entire room of other delegates fawning after him, he'd even completely gone against all of your well-researched policies and had left you with nothing! You hopped around the room, trying to convince as many people as you could to join your side. It was a heated battle as the two of you tried to assert dominance over one another, so much so that you didn't realise when the day had ended and you'd have to return home to prepare for tomorrow. You were sweaty in that suite, and your papers were a mess. You could barely keep up with that ridiculously eloquent rival you had made.
Who even has any business speaking that well? Every time Macaroni gave a speech or asked a question, he'd do it in the most calm manner. Calm, but incredibly snarky. His reserved yet petty demeanour had earned himself a name. You weren't fooled, though. You picked up your bag and headed outside Gilman's grounds. Surely there was some weakpoint in his policies that you could use to completely annihilate him tomorrow. You walked to your car with your vindictive thoughts, that were soon interrupted by a tap on your shoulder. You looked behind, irritated. You just wanted to go home.
It was the Mangione kid.
"You're an amazing debater. I think we should become allies for the next two days."
Straight to the point, huh?
You inspected the figure in front of you. He had a tall, well-built figure with toned arms that you could observe even with the shirt he was wearing. You met his eyes and spoke.
"Private insurance companies should be the least of our concerns. Don't you see how issues like-"
"I think that's where you're quite wrong. This whole time today, you were too focused on other countries. You can't help others without improving yourself first."
Oh, you were really annoyed now. You glared back at this guy who thought he could teach you something you'd been doing for years. He met your eyes with a blank stare.
"I think I can handle my policies myself, thanks."
"It certainly didn't look like that today when I questioned you about the insurance claim denial rates being so high in the US, and you stuttered in front of everyone."
Your face turned pink. "Everyone stutters!"
"Everyone?", he smirked.
You couldn't do this right now. You turned your back to him and walked towards your car that was ready to pick you up. "Bye Macaroni."
"It's Mangione!", a voice called after you as you retired back to your home.