Anger Management [Meloghia]

Chapter 7: The Crack Widens

It was Saturday morning and Fugo woke feeling agitated. There was nothing that should have put him in this mood. He was starting to feel really good three days ago. He hadn't been getting angry much, but this morning it was back fullforce. He tried the breathing techniques they had talked about when he saw the state of the bathroom after Mista had been in there: water on the counter, hair in the drain, nail clippings that he'd decided to flush down the sink but did a piss-poor job of it. He lost it when he went downstairs to see the bread out on the counter littered with crumbs, the pile of dishes in the sink and Mista and Narancia sitting at the table cluttered with his dismantled gun.

"Goddamnit, Mista! Is it so hard to clean up after yourself?!" Fugo slammed his palm on the counter, the section that wasn't disgusting.

"What? I gotta clean my gun." Mista turned around to look at him.

"This place looks like shit! You couldn't even put the damn bread away! There's crumbs everywhere!" Fugo gestured at the scene. Bucciarati and Giorno looked up from the papers they were looking at on the couch to observe the scene. Abbacchio continued jamming to his headphones in the chair opposite the two.

"Oh! That was me! Sorry, Fugo!" Narancia jumped up to put the bread away.

"See? That's why you shouldn't go accusing people," Mista said as he continued cleaning his gun.

"Okay, but you still wrecked the bathroom."

"How are you so sure it was me?" Mista scrunched up his face in annoyance. Fugo yanked off Mista's hat to reveal slightly damp hair.

"Because you obviously just took a shower, hence all the damn hair in the shower drain! Also no one else is as much of a savage to not clean up your nail clippings!"

"I did too!" Mista argued.

"No, you fucking didn't! I did!" Fugo yelled.

"Show me then!" Mista stood up pushing the chair out.

"Are you fucking slow? I just said I already cleaned it! I wasn't going to use that damn sink the way you left it!" He screamed. "Also how the fuck do you not know how to dry you damn hair? No wonder you hide it under that fucking hat all the time! It looks terrible!"

"Fuck you, Fugo! What's your issue?" He got up in Fugo's face as he yelled. He snatched his hat back and put it over his damp hair again.

"You guys are my issue! You never clean up after yourselves!"

"Hey! I said I'm sorry! I just cleaned it up!" Narancia insisted, throwing his hands up palms out.

"But it's every damn day! Both of you! What the fuck?! How hard is it to put shit back? Fucking idiots, can't focus on one thing." Mista got even closer to his face, enraged at being insulted, Fugo pushed him away.

"I can't help that I get distracted!" Narancia yelled back.

"Take five seconds to think about shit! Look around before you leave a room dammit!" Mista pushed him back and puffed up again. Fugo shoved him back hard.

"Fugo..." Bucciarati said warningly.

"No, Bucciarati. I'm sick of this shit. I don't know how you put up with these dumbasses!" The blood pounded in his ears until they started ringing. Everything sounded muffled and his breathing was ragged.

"If you didn't have a stick up your ass all the damn time...! Some good Anger Management's been!" Mista yelled and shoved him into the counter. The ring descended into white noise as he swung at Mista. Mista ducked the punch and tackled him. There was yelling from everyone as they threw punches and it was only that chaos that caused Abbacchio to finally lift his headphones off his ears and take notice.