PSEUMINO | VENTO AUREO

22 | premature.

content warning for mentions of alcohol, gambling, and removal of clothes. It's nothing graphic, but here's a clear warning in case that isn't your thing. nothing too plot-heavy in this chapter, so you won't miss out if you skip!

NARANCIA

Oi

Oi

Oi

You hear about the party?

You had, in fact, heard about the party. You hadn't wanted to go, but if Narancia was asking about it, you were willing to reconsider.

YOU

We have classes tomorrow

NARANCIA

Boo

Come on it'll be fun

YOU

Is Fugo coming?

NARANCIA

Nah, just texted him. He never goes to this stuff

Please come? I'm scared and shy >.<

YOU

Liar

I bet you know half the campus

Also, you're being suspicious

You need a designated driver don't you

NARANCIA

Ding ding ding

Narancia showed up outside your dorm looking as though he'd walked straight off the set of a 90s sitcom. Converse sneakers, black overalls, a t-shirt and a snapback over his hair.

"Oh, that's terrible," you said faintly, looking him up and down. How the hell did he pull off this outfit? Why did he look good instead of stupid?

"I won't outshine you," Narancia promised.

Your stomach jostled itself on the way to the party. It wasn't any of the elites' houses, which was a good thing, you supposed. Other than the bonfire, this would be the first technical party of the Sapiena elites you had been to.

And if rumours were to be believed, they were wild.

You didn't really know why you were nervous. You didn't have anything to prove anymore. Having a Stand immediately gave you a leg up. But you were nervous all the same. If you'd cared less, you wouldn't have put so much care into your appearance.

But you knew you looked good. Narancia had said so, with a low, appreciative whistle that made you snort.

You didn't want to be a little puppy. You wanted to appear in control. If the Sapiena elites ditched you, it was their loss, not yours.