Past Shame on the Beach || Marco & Fugo
Right now, studying didn't seem to be Fugo's prime concern. It was avoiding getting tanned or sunburned.
He remembers the past shame like it had been days before, sitting quietly reading some cheesy Jane Austin novel out in the hot, baking sun. After coming back inside he'd smell like some aging buzzard (not a preferred smell, birds of prey probably smell disgusting). Unknowingly, he'd forgotten his sunscreen. And when he took his clothes off for nice, long bubble bath-
His skin was splotchy and red, in a fairly embarrassing semi-polka dot pattern. Needless to say, he stayed covered up for weeks, despite every cell in his body screaming, Fugo, stupida testa, you forgot the sunscreen! We're burning! You're burning!
The pure thought made him want to vomit. Perhaps even regurgitate his very being. No one in the gang ever let it go. It was always polka-dot-Fugo this, polka-dot-Fugo that. To this day, Fugo never left without any sunscreen on. And when he went out to buy some after it runs out? Under a parasol. Really, it was absolutely traumatic.
Holding a food tray over his head, as if desperately trying to avoid the repetition of fate, the first person he spotted was a fool staring straight into the ocean, as if he'd never seen it before. He seemed like the type of sap who'd be crazy prepared. Fugo trotted quickly towards him, hoping the God would smile on his poor venture.
"Scusa, do you have any sunscreen on you? I'm going to burn."
