Pannacotta Fugo x Reader One-shots

[20] bathroom healing session.

"You stupid delinquent! Are you messing with me!? How many times do I have to teach you this before you learn?! You just said six times five was thirty, so why the hell is your answer even less?! YOU SHIT-FOR-BRAINS!!"

In a heartbeat, Fugo grabbed the fork by the table. His left-hand swings it to Narancia's cheek. The poor boy doesn't even have time to flinch or avoiding it. But you made it in time to block the fork with your right palm. The four points of the fork piercing your palm deep. The blood gushing out in a second.

"Be more careful will you, Fugo? Narancia could get seriously hurt," In a flat tone, you complain at him. 

Fugo startled, his eyes lighting up again. He comes to his sense again after the quick blackout of anger. 

"[y/n]," Fugo called you, there is a hint of regret in his softened voice, "I, I'm sorry."

Narancia even more startled. This is not the first time you took the bullet for him. 

"[y/n], are you okay?" Narancia panicked, biting his nails.

"It's alright, Narancia," You shrugged it away, you're used to the small pain by now. You stood up while taking the napkin to prevent the blood from falling to the floor. Making your way to the bathroom to wash it. Ignoring the blond man who is trying to call you.

Running the faucet by the sink, you quickly pulled the fork in one pull. It started to sting and throbbing in pain. Letting the water wash away the blood you stare at the cracked mirror. Smiling sourly at yourself though it's ugly. There are scratches on your cheek, on your neck, all the way to your shoulders, and still many more. Most of them not fully healed yet and you got another new scar.

It's not like you want it. Your body always reacting that way whenever someone around you about to get hurt. Your brain may forget the past but your body won't.

"[y/n], may I enter?"

You heard Fugo knocking on the door. By his tone, you can tell he still feeling guilty. Even though you already tell them many times that your act is your own responsibilities. 

"Come in, Fugo," As you close the faucet the door opened.

"Hey," Fugo winced by the sight of your palm, he bit his tongue before continuing, "I'll help you with the bandages."

"That would be great," You smiled at him to reassure the weak boy.

After a quiet session of him helping you wrapping the injuries with bandages in the bathroom the two of you become silent. The bathroom is wide with two stools by the sink. So in the morning, everyone can wait for the other to use the sink or the mirror. 

"You did it again," Fugo whispered, still holding your hand. Staring at it in pain blazing in his chest. 

You can only raise the shoulders, "I could say the same thing to you, you know?"

"Yeah, you're right," 

"We are such problematic kids, don't you think so? Bucciarati would be mad at us again,"

"Do we have to fix ourselves?"

"We eventually have," You glanced at the cracked mirror that Fugo punched two days ago out of his anger. He broke the most things in the gang.

Everyone knows how short-tempered Fugo can be. When he finally snapped it would be hard sometimes to stop him. Most of it he can't remember because of the blackout. Quite problematic as he would ruin missions along the way.

As for you, you have the reflexes to jump in and take the shoot. You have saved everyone in the gang including Fugo from the small injuries to the serious one. On a mission or not. Resulting in scar all over your body. Like a blackout, your body will move on its own. Quite problematic as you always get hurt from unnecessary injuries. Bothering your mission.

"Do you always been like this?" 

Fugo looked at you with such sadness in his voice, his eyes. 

"Hmm," You closed your eyes, you never tell anyone about your past before. Maybe you can tell Fugo. You already know about him from the newspaper and it's not fair, right?

"I had twin little sisters," You decided to tell him, Fugo stays silent to listen, "Our mother died when she gave birth to them. My dad had to raise us alone on his alone. Things going smoothly until five years later he fired from his work. He started to beat me up since that day. I was seven. I can't do anything so I can only receive the beating. As long as he doesn't touch my little sisters..,"

Your voice slowly lowered in a growl. You bit your lips, furrowing your brow from the unpleasant memories. Before you can clench your fist you can feel Fugo's palms on yours. 

"You don't have to continue it," Fugo said lowly, "Look at me, [y/n]."

When you open your eyes you can immediately see his purple orbs looking straight at you. His eyes are beautiful like always. 

"Why the sad face?" You chuckled, tighten the hands holding with him. 

"I'm actually angry," 

"You're angry at me?"

"No," He shook his head weakly, "I'm angry and disappointed at myself. I can only hurt people around me but you're different. You won't us get hurt. I hurt you instead."

"Don't say that," You went to cup his face on your hands, squishing his cheeks, "You never hurt me, Fugo. Only little accidents no one wished for. Not your fault at all."

"I can't protect you," He pouted like a kid, his eyes were teary, "I am good for nothing, [y/n]."

"So do I,"

"No, you're not,"

"So do you, Fugo," You went to kiss his forehead but still not letting go of his face from your hands.

Fugo's face reddened by the sudden kiss.

"If you believe me,  believe that I am a nice person, then you must know that I believe in you too."

"Not a wise decision," He chuckled a little, leaning to melt into your embrace. Burying his face by the crook of your neck. Wrapping his hands around your waist.

"But that's what I decided," You returned the gesture by wrapping your hands around his neck. Caressing his soft hair to soothe him. 

Both of you may be an imperfect person with problems. But that is a natural thing for human to have. We are all hurt people. That is a given. 

"There is always time to fix our mistakes," You whispered to him, "I believe you will help me?"

"Will you stay by my side when I need you?"

The two of you only can laugh at that. Tighten the hug.

The answer is obvious.

No one can heal alone.