Changeling-Giorno Giovanna x Reader

Clamor

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clam·or

/ˈklamər/

noun

noun: clamour; noun: clamor

a loud and confused noise, especially that of people shouting vehemently."the questions rose to a clamor"

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You woke up at 7:55 the next morning in borrowed clothes, your hair sprawled across the silk pillow like some sort of H/C halo.  Somehow, the only thing you could think of was your desire for Reese's Puffs.

You rolled out of bed and searched through your trail bag for something suitable to wear. After digging through your "closet", you finally decided on a pair of leggings and a F/C sweater, slipping your shoes back on as you made your way out. You didn't know what the footwear policy was here, so you figured you'd play it safe. 

You turned the doorknob as gently as you could, on the off chance anyone was still asleep. Thankfully, it was unoccupied and your mission uninhibited.

The cupboard door opened with considerably more noise than you would have liked, but you couldn't turn back now. The cereal box was within reach, and you could practically taste the high fructose corn syrup, dammit. 

You tilted the box back towards you, letting it fall just enough to allow you to safely maneuver it down.

A peeved voice came from the side hallway, one you recognized from last night. "What are you doing?"

Your cheeks flushed almost instantaneously. "Well-"

"Answer me," He stepped out of the darkened hallway and into the kitchen. You remained frozen in place, too scared to speak. "Now."

Your eyes darted to the side, suddenly remembering an offhand comment Narancia had made the day before. The man who stood before you must have been Fugo, the one with the "holes in the suit", as Narancia had put it. Although still in what you assumed to be his pajamas, you immediately recognized him. If you recalled correctly, he had been sitting on the innermost section of the booth you had first met this motley crew at.

Finally, you grabbed the cereal box with shaking hands and set it on the counter. "Well," You sighed. "I guess I'm making breakfast."

Realizing he couldn't logically argue with that statement only seemed to make him angrier. 

"Just who do you think you are," Fugo sputtered, inching closer with each syllable. "Coming in here like this? Of all the pretentious-

"It's just cheap cereal. Look, I can go buy a box myself-" 

"So now you're calling us cheap, huh?"

Maybe it was the fatigue or the surreality of your new residence. Maybe it was your increasingly painful hunger pangs. Whatever it was, you somehow developed the guts needed to put this guy in his place.

"Of course not," You deadpanned, trying your best to hide your increasingly apparent smirk. "How else would you have been able to afford those moths?"

 His eye twitched. "The what?"

"The ones that ate the holes in your suit."

Everything descended into chaos. You suddenly realized that Mista and Narancia had been in the hallway observing this spectacle as they began to howl with laughter. Fugo had a delayed reaction, initial ambivalence quickly turning into an unbridled rage as he raised his fists. Mista moved from the hall, very wisely attempting to mitigate the situation by putting some distance between you two. In the meanwhile, you remained still, your ears buzzing and your mind suddenly somewhere very far away. Any scrap of courage you had had was now gone, tossed out of the penthouse window and onto the winding streets below to be trampled under the feet of a thousand strangers. You prepared yourself for a blow of some sort, but it never came. All that buffeted you was quiet. A noiseless, oppressive quiet.