Hello, Goodbye
Fugo woke up as usual, 6:30. Gave him the time to make breakfast, eat, shower, brush his teeth, take care of his skin and leave for school. He left some of his breakfast for Abbachio, his... Roommate? He didn't really know, the man never let Fugo go home ever since he heard about his parents. He didn't mind. He'd rather be with Abbachio anyway. He was quiet and didn't expect much in return and he allows Fugo to practice piano when he's not around unless he wants to perform. The package deal!
Fugo was waiting for the bus. When it arrived, he catches a glimpse of himself in the glass door's reflection and made a face. He felt as if his acne got worse a little bit more everyday. His braces didn't help much either. He got on the bus and sat on an available seat before plugging his earphones in. It was well-known that music was often a way to escape from your problems. He's used to listen to calm and soothing music that would also put him to sleep most nights when he was too on edge. He could barely sleep without his earphones back at his parents place. Every creaking of wood would jolt him awake, every sound of laughter will make his eyes well up with tears which lead to many outbursts and fights. At one point, instead of questioning their parenting skills, his parents signed him up into a mental hospital where he saw a therapist. He barely talked during that period of that life. He stayed 6 months there and even on free days, he wouldn't visit anyone. He would come home and stare blankly at his friends worried texts.
He never answered them.
But that was last year and they somehow made up even though he was pretty sure that if he were in their shoes, he would've never forgiven him.
He got up when he saw the school stop and hopped off of the bus where he was met with his friends. One was pretty tall with curly hair, brown skin tone and a beanie. His name was Mista. The other was relatively shorter with some orange clips, darker than the other man with a playful glint in his eyes. His name was Narancia. His best and only friends.
Narancia threw himself in Fugo's arms, making him recoil but slowly accepts it before the boy spoke, "Fugo you HAVE to help me in maths it's a life or death situation! I can't go in class with no work done again!"
Fugo frowned at that, "Are you suggesting I throw away 3 god-damned hours of my time for an exercise I'll end up doing myself? Why don't you ask Mista, hm? He's older."
"Hell no I am not helping him again..." Said the older man while ignoring the dark haired boy's glare.
This was going to be a long day. The bell rings, they had to get to class. Fugo let out a long deep sigh and walked up the stairs.
When he reached the class he scoffed when he saw who was already there,
Giorno Giovanna.
That perfect kid with beautiful green eyes and little freckles he's pretty sure everyone noticed, that little pretentious look, God how Fugo despised him. He always had the right answer, never talked to anyone but his gaze lingered often on Fugo. Probably to judge him. Asshole.
The worst part of all of this is that he is infront of Fugo so everytime Fugo wants to participate, Giorno is quicker with his answer.
He sat on his seat, taking his stuff and placing him on his desk. Fugo was seating in a table with no neighbour while Giorno was sharing with a girl with freaky black hair with, somehow, three green braids. They seemed to get along and for some unknown reason, seeing Giorno get along with someone made his stomach ache. Jealousy? No. He never wanted to be friends with that girl. Maybe he just genuinely hated that pretty face.
He was so deep in thought he didn't notice Giorno staring at him. God, these eyes... Fugo snapped out of it and raised a brow. That snapped Giorno out of his trance and he gave a small smile before turning back to the board
Why the fuck was Giovanna staring at him for? Was there something on his face?!
He glared at the back of his blond locks like he's used to doing. He sees Giorno writing a lot on his textbook though they were watching a video explaining the new chapter. Maybe he was taking notes. He should too. But as the noise of Giorno's pen got louder, Fugo came to the conclusion that he couldn't have been writing. Giorno was drawing which enlightened a new facet of him that Fugo was not ready to learn. It made him feel all weird and he couldn't focus on his work anymore. It was like everytime Fugo learned something new about Giorno. Always these damn jumps in his stomach for some reason.
The rest of the day was hell. He could not focus and all he thought and talked about was fucking Giorno Giovanna and how annoying he was, and how perfect he was, Mista ended up helping Narancia with his math to leave Fugo to his yapping. And when he got home and saw Abbachio sitting on the couch, oh boy was he going to go all out
"And then he SMILED at me! Can you believe that?! That damned Giorno!" He rants
"Damned Giorno.", Abbachio echoes, much more interested on what was on his phone.
"And, oh my God you will not believe this, he draws in class! So whenever the teacher gets on my nerves I just snitch!" He cackled at that but stopped when he saw Abbachio's eyebrow raising.
"What...?"
"Nothing..."
Fugo frowned, mumbled something under his breath, picked up his bag and left for his room while overhearing Abbachio's cackling.
He threw his bag on his bag and got to work to clear his mind a bit. He spent a good two hours in an unwavering working mood. He did all the upcoming homework, cleaned the house, learned for tests. He was determined to be the best to show everyone that he's not a fuck up. He did not need to go that damned hospital.
Fugo started spiraling and ended up falling asleep on his desk.
Later, Abbachio walked in to announce dinner. He saw Fugo on his desk and picked him up into his bed, tucking him in. It wasn't a rare occurence. He looked at Fugo's schedule for the next day and put the books of the concerned course in his bag for him. He shut the light out before closing the door and walking away.