「 Of Temperature, Company and Other Forms of Communication. 」

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In which you and Fugo just went through a hard mission.

This one is shorter, and I don't know how well I was able to convey what I was going for.

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His knuckles met the wall, once, twice. He clenched his teeth and growled. Five, six times, his stomach churned. His mouth tasted like iron and dirt. Eight times, nine...

"Stop that," you said, staring.

His arm froze midway to tenth. It trembled, as did his legs, as did his lungs.

Fugo met your icy gaze, fire in his. "Excuse me?"

"Stop that," you repeated. Fugo felt his heart beating in his throat, you only cocked your head. "You'll hurt yourself."

He scoffed. You stood still. He punched the bloodied wall that tenth time, just for you.

He walked away from it and past you, he thought of shoving you if only for a brief moment. He couldn't, he wouldn't, but he thought it—because his heart ached. Because something inside fizzed and bubbled and boiled.

You made your way to the car, after him. When he slammed the door, you got in.

Fugo leaned back in the driver's seat and let out a sigh. He wiped the blood from his mouth but his broken lip only shed more. His stomach still twisted and turned, his heart still beat loud in his ears. Nothing he wasn't used to.

You remained quiet as you extended your hand toward him.

Fugo raised a brow, he didn't know what you wanted. Your hand remained put for a second, and another, and another.

So he gave you his, and you took it to your lap.

His blood stained your clothes. From your pocket came a handkerchief, which you wrapped tight around his burning, bloody knuckles.

"Seriously," you spoke. "What will we do if you break your hand?"

Fugo clicked his tongue and retrieved his hand. He faced the window, leaned on it, focused on the grass outside. The day was so sunny, the breeze was so nice. He was bloody and hurting and burning. You were perfectly still.

You looked at him and he couldn't meet your gaze, that gaze. Not again, not twice in the same day.

"Are you okay?" You asked.

"I'm fine."

You put your hand on his back and he let his shoulders drop. You rubbed circles and he took a deep breath. You were quiet and still and oh, so cold. A quiet cold, a comforting cold.

It took a while, but the knots on his stomach came loose and the tears prickling in his eyes quit insisting. You didn't stop holding him for a second. Taking a deep breath, Fugo started the car.

"Let's go home and get something to eat," you said.

He nodded. "Yeah."

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♥*♡∞:。.。「Fugo Loveposting」。.。:∞♡*♥Where stories live. Discover now