PSEUMINO | VENTO AUREO

09 | unspool.

═ ☆. NARANCIA DREW OPEN YOUR SHUTTERS, letting in bright white light. "We need to get you out of here. I feel like you're getting worse instead of better."

You groaned, shutting off your phone. You'd spent the morning going through your sudden explosion in popularity on social media, just as Trish had predicted. Suddenly there were dozens of random people sending you follow requests and DM's. It might've been nice if you didn't know they were just using them as a stepping stone to Giorno and Trish. You weren't really the reason people were following your profile.

You rolled onto your other side, your entire body seeming to creak with the effort. Two days after the encounter with Black Sabbath and your fever and headache had only gotten worse. It wasn't fair that you seemed to be getting punished for not having a Stand.

"Have you had breakfast yet? Did you take your medicine?" Narancia nudged your shoulder. "Hello?"

"I just feel terrible," you mumbled into your pillow.

"You're telling me." He nudged you again. "Come on, try to get up. I know a place that I think will make you feel better."

You didn't think you could get up from bed, much less go anywhere. Your body ached horribly. Every movement made your head spin and temples throb.

"Maybe some other time, Narancia. It was nice of you to come and check on me, though."

Out of nowhere, Narancia flung your comforter aside.

"You're obviously not getting any better lying here. You're getting out of bed and coming with me."

He grabbed your ankles and yanked you off the bed. You let out a squawk, crumpling in an ungainly heap on the floor.

"What the hell?" you whined, rubbing your backside.

"See? You're already halfway out the door. Come on! Get up, get up!"

You glared at Narancia. He grinned back, purple eyes dancing. With a sigh, you used your bed to push yourself up, wincing at the sudden rush of blood to your head. You half-heartedly slipped on your slides and shuffled after Narancia into the hall, pulling your sweater off the back of your chair to wrap around yourself. Narancia moved past the elevators and to the stairwell.

"I know you like using the stairs, but can we please use the elevator this one time?"

"Nope," Narancia said cheerily. "The elevator can't take us to where I'm going to show you. It'll be fine. You need to stretch your legs."

Narancia bounded up the stairs. Each step you took up the stairs hurt. It felt like dumbbells were strapped to your feet. At the top of the stairwell, Narancia tried opening a scuffed metal door. It looked like one of the maintenance doors to areas you weren't supposed to access. When the door didn't budge, Narancia rammed his shoulder against it, forcing it open.

"Are we even allowed up here?" You brought up an arm to shield the incoming light from the door.

"If they didn't want us up here, they shouldn't have built a door, huh?"

The door swung open onto a large open roof area. A metal rail ran along the edge, and grey clouds moved overhead. Candy wrappers and chip bags littered the ground, skittering along in the weak breeze. It smelled like old cigarette smoke and used joints.

"Is this where you meet your drug dealer?" you deadpanned.

"Not me, personally," Narancia said. "Most people come up here to smoke and make out or whatever. Not that we'll be making out," he added quickly. He moved to the edge of the railing, leaning over it. "I usually come up here for the view."