Pannacotta Fugo x Reader One-shots

[54] sick.

Hi, how is everyone doing today?
It's a sad hour, again.
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"What are you doing here?" Mista sat beside you, pulling you to his side for you to rest. The wind was cold and the street was empty, pretty much just like you right now. In front of the door, under the moonlight, lies unforgettable memories.

"I'm waiting for him to come back," you replied, hugging your knees. "When will he come back, Mista? Is he dead too?"

"I don't know, [y/n]. I don't know." Mista clenched his teeth. They were gritting, holding back the pain building up in his chest. He rolled his eyes to you, to find your dimmed orbs were staring at nothing. How many days was it since you're like this, he wondered. "What will you do if he's back?"

"I'm not sure." Mista shivered a little when your gaze aimed at his. "Should I welcome him with a warm hug, or should I kill him, so he knows how cold their body was?"

Mista gulped down a bitter one.

"If he's dead," you continued, making Mista holding back his tears as he's hugging you for the rest of the night. "I'm already as dead as him."

The morning came faster than Mista expected. He woke up drenched in cold sweats despite the warm spring morning. Exhausted from the nightmare, he walks to the bathroom with one arm on the wall supporting his body. In front of the bathroom door, there's Giorno with his messy hair, eye bags under his eyes, walking back and forth.

"Giorno," Mista called. Giorno almost cursed loudly because of it.

"Mista," Giorno acknowledged. They both go silent, looking at each other in sympathy. They were both a mess, pretty much like you right now.

"She's at it again," Giorno informed, though it's unneeded. Mista crouched down, groaning, disheveling his hair frustratedly.

"She was at it again last night too."

"We're all become such a mess, aren't we?"

They can hear you loud and clear. Crying and sobbing as you're throwing up whatever left in your stomach, all while calling loudly for one name. That one name that is hurting you like hell, and leaving Giorno and Mista in silence.

"I guess we have no other choice." Mista looked up to Giorno.

"Your order."

Giorno took a deep breath. "Prioritize the search of Pannacotta Fugo.. and keep this a secret from [y/n]."

Sheila E folded her arms, leaning to the doorstep, about to finish someone with her words without her noticing it. On the bed, there's Fugo lying with the palms of his hand as the pillow, contemplating something.

"There's no point in thinking about it anymore."

"I know."

"You did that yourself."

"I know."

"You lost her."

"I know."

"You deserve it, you know?"

"I know!" Fugo screamed, his voice travels on the room, down to the hallway. The tension made him jump to sit, panting uncontrollably, and sweating bullets. "What do you want now, Sheila E?"

She didn't answer for a while. Quite surprised by the hard reaction she got from him. Sheila E sighed before biting lightly on her lower lip. It wasn't her intention to destroy him even more.

"Nothing," she said, "you worsen day by day."

"Again, I know. Don't make me repeat for myself." Fugo got off from the bed to the bathroom to wash his face. Cold water might help to cool down his head or to wake the heck out of himself from his mind. Whichever is okay at this point, because he's nearly destroying himself many times. When he comes out of the bathroom, Sheila E was still there.

"We can make this work. This is not too late."

"Is that how you're encouraging me?" Fugo wiped his face with a small towel. "You're terrible at it."

"You're welcome, Fugo. You're welcome."

Sheila E left the room not too long after that, leaving the door slightly open just like before she came. The cold water didn't work to tied him down to earth, so Fugo lying down again and let himself drowning in thoughts. There's only one thing occupying his mind, one name that's been living in him for years, the one who was always leaving him breathless. The thought of you still leaving him breathless even now, just in a more painful way.

Tonight too, you're waiting in front of the mansion entrance. Sitting without any words, hands around your knees, and didn't think of anything. Or at least, you tried to. No matter how much you try to appear okay or convince Giorno and Mista that you're alright, you've always terrible at lying. It hurts much, as you know those two are also hurting. Yet, none of you confess to each other, just accepting each other pain. Except for one man that you didn't know his whereabouts. Even now, you still wondering what you should do if you meet him again. Pannacotta Fugo.

The cold night breezes washed over your face. In a time like this, you hope Mista and Giorno are not on a mission. How dare them leaving you alone, you think. Still, you cried for them pushing themselves just for you to heal.

Your thought interrupted by the sound of someone walking towards you and a familiar pair of shoes went into your vision. You looked up, he looked down, both then smiling as if about to cry.

"Hey," you chuckled, lips trembling into a smile, eyes red, and start crying.

"Hey," Fugo choked on his breath.

"Have you meet Giorno and Mista?"

"Yes, I have."

"No wonder they went busy these days," you hummed, wiping your tears away to no avail. They keep pouring anyway. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not."

"Me too."

Fugo caught his breath and arranging his mind while at it. He was sure he had prepared something to say to you. An apology, for sure. Now those are all gone into nowhere the moment he saw you. You've changed and didn't change at all at the same time.

You've thought of several things to do when he's back, and now that he's back, you don't know what to do. Now you just want to stay still, feeling content on reality. He's alive though he's no better than you, or Giorno, or Mista.

"What are you going to do, Fugo?" You laughed away. It's certainly been ages since you call his name out loud.

Fugo pulled you to his side, embracing you as if you're going to disappear. He's cold and you're also cold, no warmth despite the skin contact. You don't want to complain and he has no complaints to say. "I'm not sure yet. How about you, [y/n]?"

"To gather us again after this. You, Giorno, Mista, and I."

"Right now?"

"Right now." You closed your eyes upon returning the hug. "We're all sick of life and have to stay together. No more leaving each other. No more distrust. No more pain. What do you think?"

Fugo nodded as he started sobbing. "I agree."