part 5 : vento aureo short-story collection

endear 1/1

a sorry for the other story lol

fugio
modern - not in mafia
fluff

tws:
internalized homophobia

He readjusted his tie, for the umpteenth time. It could never be perfect enough, and never be too perfect either. The little lamp on his dresser was the only light provided in the room, the yellow hue dim and casting long shadows along the walls. He stood in front of the cheap floor length mirror that had been leaned beside his dresser since he had moved there, constantly poking at his appearance.

The sound of a car horn passing distracted him, and he turned to look out his window that provided view of the street. Shaking his head in exasperation, he watched Giorno's car pull haphazardly into the parking lot, obviously having pissed someone off by his reckless driving.

Forcing himself not to look in the mirror again, he grabbed his coat he had laid out on the bed, a thin, black hoodie that fit loosely around him. Leaving the apartment, he skipped steps as he hurried down them, hand only skimming the banister. Usually if it were Mista or Narancia, some music would be blasting from the speakers. And even if there weren't, there was some form of presence from them. Giorno always had a silent coldness about him that Fugo found creepy and interesting.

"Hey," He breathed out once he had opened the passenger door. Giorno simply watched him as he got into the car, slamming the door behind him quickly to keep the heat in. "Don't drive like a fucking asshole." Before he could even get his seat belt on, Giorno had already managed to jerk the car to the side as they pulled from the diagonal parking he had done across two spaces. Fugo yelped, catching himself against the dashboard. The smile on Giorno's face that he could see from the light of the street lamps told him it was on purpose.

"My car, my rules," Giorno stated simply. He pressed the on button to the radio before pulling his hand back to the wheel, leaving it for Fugo to decide. Anyone else, he would've already been strangling, and yet he just curses under his breath as he skims through the radio channels.

The rest of the ride is quiet between the two. He had taken in the other boy's appearance between each light they passed, more drawn in by the skirt than the button up under the band shirt, obviously being one of Mista's as Giorno definitely never listened to the Sex Pistol's, and that it was a size too big. The way Fugo had been raised made him recoil mentally at the thought of a man wearing a skirt, but whatever- whoever- he was now made him exhilarated at just the thought.

And he's brought out of that thought pattern quickly as Giorno slams on the gas the minute they crossed onto the freeway.

"I swear you're going to fucking give someone whiplash," He bites out as he exits the car. They're at the club the group always go to on Fridays, though it was rare Giorno offered anyone a ride. The others' cars were in the lot already. "Yourself, even."

"Yet we both seem fine. Isn't that funny?"

"Speak for yourself."

Giorno holds the door open for him.

They're on the rooftop of his apartment building. He's sure that Giorno really shouldn't have driven them there, but he seems completely sober - at least to him now. He had had more than he usually drank, only because a girl wouldn't leave him alone and he wasn't going to talk to her sober.

"That's Orion's belt." He points out the three stars. Giorno was laid next to him very close, impossibly warm even in the cold of the night. He continues to point out constellations until he grows bored and is sure the blond has quit paying attention. "You're beautiful," He mumbles.

"I think you need to go to bed." Giorno sits up. He panics a little, not wanting the moment to end. Grabbing the back of his shirt, he pulls him back. There's no movement for a while, and he can feel his back and chest expand and contract with each breath under his knuckles. "Fugo. I'm serious."

"And I'm serious too. I- I don't like boys, but I do like you." He's terrified while stupidly courageous at the same time. Scared of rejection but so sure he won't be. He'd be appalled in the morning, because despite the truth, he was insistent that he was completely straight. That not even Giorno was pretty to him. When really he couldn't care less about girls, and that he's had more than a crush on Giorno since they had met in sophomore year. "I'll go to bed but- please don't leave."

When Fugo loosens his hand, Giorno moves away quickly, standing. He blocks his view of the stars as he helps him up, allowing the platinum-haired boy to lean against him for support as they stumbled to the roof exit door. He stings with what he had perceived as rejection, quiet during the trip to his apartment.

Once inside, he's left at his bed. He watches as Giorno leaves with an unreadable expression, stopping to do something in the kitchen. Fugo clumsily loosens his tie, slipping it off his neck and dropping it to the floor for the morning. Toeing off his shoes, he left them there as well.

Giorno comes back holding a water bottle and some pills, setting them on the nightstand. "For the morning," He tells him in a surprisingly soft voice. Fugo reaches out - again - grabbing hold of the blond's wrist. He's tired, and words are hard to come out.

"Thank you."

"Do you still want me to stay?"

He feels as if his heart skips a beat, knowing that that wasn't what had happened. He was an idiot, wasn't he? Not expecting no answer from Giorno and worse - taking that as a decline when every time before that it had been a yes. He nods, letting go of the other's wrist.

Giorno rounds the bed, sitting on the edge of the other side. He takes off his shoes and the T-shirt, leaving him in just the white button up and dark skirt. It's not that big of a bed, either, just barely big enough for the two of them and even then it left no space between them. Fugo couldn't bring himself to mind as his heart pounded against his rib cage.

He's the first to lay down, watching Giorno fold the shirt and set it on top of his shoes. Then, he's laying down as well, rolling over to face him. In the dark, he can't see his face, but can feel the faint ghost of his breath against his skin every few seconds. Without much thought or hesitation, Fugo leans forward to kiss him. There's a shocked pause, before Giorno is reciprocating, kissing back with an uncharacteristic gentleness.

"I love you," He murmurs in the dark once they pull away from one another. He feels Giorno's hand come up and brush hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

"I love you as well. Get some rest."

Fugo wakes up to a sharp pain behind his eyes, and he rolls over to press his face into the pillow. The spot beside him is cold, indicating Giorno had left a while ago. Possibly - most likely - for work. Thinking of Giorno, he's reminded of the water and pills he had left him. Reluctantly pushing himself up, he grabbed both, downing the pills with the water.

He grabs his phone then, checking for any messages. One unread text from Giorno, and when he opens his phone it's simply a heart emoji. He smiles with a fond chuckle, which unfortunately reminds him of his pulsing headache. He texts a heart back once recovered from the wave of pain and nausea.