Pannacotta Fugo x Reader One-shots

[61] obsession, part 1.

TW: Suicidal (Sometimes I forgot to put tw please tell me if I have to put one in my previous chapters)
I hope everyone is okay. 
I don't support this kind of behavior.
This is simply my thoughts that I had to write away.
--- --- --- ---

Even after he left, his scent lingers still in your mind. His presence engraved perfectly by your side leaving unpleasant warmth. You can still hear his voice calling for your name. You missed him that you can see him.

Pannacotta Fugo, it's been forever since you last meet him.

"How are you feeling?"

"I think I've gotten better."

Giorno frowned halfway then sighing as he's sitting by your bed. "You didn't finish your meal again. Mista freaked out because of you."

"I can't eat much nowadays," you defended, shifting your position with hands to wake up and sit closer to Giorno. He took your hands and touching them to his face. "How are you today, Gio?"

"Yes, I'm doing well," he replied, rather irritated. "it doesn't matter, [y/n]. Are you sure you don't want me to heal your eyes?" 

You chuckled, your very blur vision didn't help on catching his frustrated expression. Now you can only depend on your hearing and other sense. "I don't need any new eyes. I've seen enough.. both beauty and ugly of this world." 

"[y/n]..," Giorno winced when you retreated your hands. "Why are you always smiling as if you're about to cry?"

Your lips stayed in a form of a smile before replying. You can't see Giorno but you're sure he's making such sad faces he never shown before. "Funny enough, Guido asked the same thing this morning. Though I can't answer him."

"Because that's what we seen.. from you, these past months."

"Is that so?" you hummed, closing your eyes because you didn't need them anymore. "Maybe because I do want to cry."

"Then why don't you cry?"

"I can't, Gio, I can't cry anymore. No matter how sad I am or how hurt it is, I just can't. It's dry and burning me like the middle of July."

"Please don't say that." Giorno took your hand, tightly holding it just like how he refused to lose another one. "[y/n], please, don't give up."

"I'm not giving up but simply done," you confessed, fingers tangled together on your lap. It's dark and you missed him more than anything. "I've had enough."

Giorno fell silent, speechless, cluttered without being able to respond. He stayed while lowering his face in shame, looking at you with sadness and pity. Giorno knows he could never understand you the way your partner did. He was never close to you but he simply didn't want to lose anyone again. 

"I've had enough too."

"Oh?" Your laughter broke away, roaring around the room. You laughed too much it hurts and suffocating. "Giorno," you said, glancing at him with slightly open eyes. "Do you think I care?"

"What-" Giorno flinched, shivering from head to toe. 

"Call me egoist, I don't care. I admit that you did much for us but your arrival was also the beginning of all. No, no, I don't blame you. I blame myself for being weak. Yet I survived and I wonder why. Times have long passed ever since and here I am mourning, waiting for my death. I'm empty and tired. I want to leave."

"I won't call you such things like that." Giorno pulled you in his arms, a little bit rough since you resisting. "We can still fix this. Give us time. We can find him if you want."

"What is there left to fix?" you chuckled sourly, "stop it, Gio. He was a coward who left us and even so, I love him. This is not about love but trauma. I'm sure you understand. I want to die, Giorno. I beg you to stop curing me little by little with your stand every time I'm on my death bed."

"So you know." Giorno pushed you away, he can't with your smirk.

"Of course I know. Who do you think I am?" You ruffled his hair, smiling, probably looked like you're about to cry again. "You have to let me go before I'm going insane. Nothing can fix me."

"Not even him?"

"Not even him. He's not a gift on Christmas day."

"What is he then?"

"He's still my love," you answered, "and now I'm tired of love."

"She's still my life," Fugo answered, "and I lost my will to live."

Mista groaned in frustration as he ruffling his head, crouching down to not flip a table or something. He looked up to his old friend who's calmly standing before him without any expression on his face. 

"I have to take you back." Mista stood up, pointing his finger at Fugo's chest. "We've been going through shit and you want to die?"

"Why don't we get out of here first?" Fugo offered, the loud music almost drowns his voice. The gunslinger clicked his tongue before following Fugo outside. To the cold empty streets.

"Spit it out, Fugo," Mista said, impatiently walking beside Fugo to nowhere. "What are you been doing? What is your goal now? What are you thinking right now and what the fuck are you going to do?"

Fugo hummed and answer without looking at his old friend. "This is going to be a long story."

"I don't care," Mista spat, "I can go all night."