like old times chptr. 3/4 | fugo x reader
PART 5 SPOILERS UNDERNEATH
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disclaimers/tags: fem pronouns, intrusive thoughts based on trauma, angst, language, age gap relationship on fugo's part.
Fugo could recall the night of Bucciarati's betrayal as one of the worst nights of his life. He didn't eat nor sleep. He just laid in bed, cold. Surprisingly, he wasn't sad or angry; he felt nothing.
Not even a week passed and rumours had already gone around about Bucciarati's death. Not just him, but Narancia and Abbacchio as well. Word spread quickly about the traitors within the organization as fast as their deaths. However, there was no talk surrounding Y/n's death— something that Fugo was incredibly relieved about. Maybe he could see her in Venice again— but would she even want to after all he's said?
Maybe Fugo should've joined her. Maybe, just maybe if he did, things would return like old times; his hand clutched in hers, her back against his chest, laying in bed without a single worry in mind.
"Is something the matter?"
Fugo's eyes shot up at the woman sitting across from him, only to disappointedly look down at his dinner plate. For a second, her voice sounded similar to his past lover's. He nearly forgot about the date he agreed to.
"Is the food bad? If it is, you can order anything else." The lady grinned, hand on her chin.
"It's alright. Thank you, though."
Fugo couldn't believe he was doing this. Going from Venice to Naples would be a costly trip. With his near-empty wallet and now-deceased capo, it would be impossible to return home without blowing out every cent in his account. To afford his trip back, he caught an old woman's attention— possibly in her early 40's— to help with his money issues.
"You know..." the lady said, stabbing her fork into a chunk of lettuce. "You're not here just for a free meal. Say something. Entertain me."
Fugo nodded. "You look great today," he said, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
She smiled in satisfaction, taking a bite of the salad on her fork.
Fugo tried to enjoy the expensive appetizer on his plate, but his palate had completely vanished due to the woman across from him. Every word she spat out reminded him of his old professor. He didn't want her, he wanted Y/n. As much as he wanted to leave, he knew this would help him return home.
"When do you think I could go back to Naples, miss?" Fugo asked with a gentle expression on his face.
The lady waved her fork at Fugo. "Hon, we'll talk about that later. Just enjoy the free meal, hm?"
"I understand, but I can't stay in Venice forever."
The lady's face began to shift into anger. "I said later, tesoro."
Fugo closed his eyes and took a breath. 'Tesoro' was something Y/n was only allowed to call him. Hearing those words from anyone else made Fugo want to vomit— especially from this old hag.
"Please don't call me that," he said.
"Huh?" the lady's lip raised. "I'm curious, Pannacotta. Who is the one stuck in Venice? Who is the one paying for your plate? Who is the one desperate for money?"
Fugo put his head down, staring at the white tablecloth. He despised the tone of her voice and the way she was treating him. She clearly thought she had power over him just because of her age and money. Fugo wanted to prove her wrong.
"I'm in a shitty mood, you know." Fugo pushed his chair back and stood up. "My friends are dead and my girlfriend left me. To top it off, I need to see your hideous face just so I can get some cash."
The lady's brows arched, fist clenching on top of the table. "I'll have you know that my husband is part of the mafia, so sit your ass back down on that chair right now or I'll have him blow your head off by tomorrow evening."
Fugo scoffed. "What're you going to tell your husband? You wanted to fuck a 16-year-old?"
Several strangers looked over at the two and watched. Subsequently, a waitress rushed over to the table.
"Is there an issue here?" the waitress asked.
"No, none at all. He's just a bit stressed— maybe a glass of wine will do?" the lady suggested.
"I-I'll be right on my way, ma'am." The waitress nodded and immediately scurried away from the table.
"Are you kidding me?" Fugo spat at the lady. "Wine?"
The lady didn't say a word and continued to eat her salad.
Fugo knew that words wouldn't get through the lady's thick skull. Hastily, he picked up the sharpest fork he could find to pierce her skin. The lady screeched in pain as she stumbled off her chair.
"Jesus Christ," a voice muttered near the table.
"Huh-" Fugo dropped the fork and looked around the restaurant. He heard a voice, one that was too familiar. One that belonged to his old lover.
"Someone, please!" the lady screamed. "Someone call the cops on this child!"
The entire restaurant turned to look at the two. Using this as his opportunity, Fugo looked around the crowd to find Y/n. There were the elderly, young women with their husbands, and several children. None of them were Y/n, until he heard the voice again.
"Fugo? Is that you?"
Fugo turned around to match the voice with the face. There, he saw Y/n. She looked as beautiful as the last time he saw her, just with visible scars this time.
"Why're you still standing there? Let's go!" She took the boy's hand and ran out of the restaurant, pushing through any staff and customers.
Fugo had trouble keeping up with the girl, too lost from the feeling of her soft hands. When she said she wanted to see him in Venice again, this was not what he thought of.
"W-Where are we going?" Fugo stuttered, still running.
"Anywhere where they won't see us!" The girl began to run faster before turning a corner and hiding in a small alleyway. She let go of Fugo's hand and peeked through the side, seeing if anyone followed them. Luckily, none did.
"God, Y/n." Fugo put his hands on his knees and let out heavy breaths. "I didn't want to meet you like this. I'm so sorry. About this, about the boss, about Buccia-"
Y/n took her hand and slapped Fugo's face, slightly leaving a mark on his olive skin. "What the hell were you doing?" she said, voice cracking. "That lady! She looked about 40!"
Fugo wiped his cheek, a guilty look on his eyes. "I was stuck in Venice. Well, I still am, but-" He stopped and bit the inside of his cheek.
"So you hung out with older women? That was your solution?"
"I guess it was."
Y/n put her palm over her eyes, letting out a sigh. "You're so lucky I had a mission in Venice. Jesus, Fugo."
He shamefully looked at the ground. "I'm sorry."
The girl didn't accept his apology, she just looked at him with a disappointed face. "I have a hotel close to here. You can stay with me for now."
Her cold atmosphere stung Fugo. The girl who he believed understood him more than anyone felt so far out of his reach. He knew that her kindness wasn't coming from a place of love but from pity.
"Thank you, Y/n," he said.
No smile, no change in emotion. "Come on, let's go. I'll lead the way," was all she muttered in return.
* * *
The sun was setting; it reminded Fugo of the times he and Y/n would sit on roofs and chat for hours. It gave him a cozy, yet agonizing feeling.
"What exactly are you doing in Venice?" Fugo asked.
"Nothing much. Giorno wants me to get rid of some low-lifers who're spreading harmful rumours."
"Ah, I see."
There was a moment of silence between the two. Fugo tried to avoid the tension by avoiding the girl's gaze, looking over at pedestrians crossing the street instead. Though, Y/n noticed that immediately. If this was in the past, the girl definitely would've teased Fugo about his shyness. Instead, she stayed silent.
By the time they arrived at the hotel, it was dark. After a long day, the two were tired. They could practically go to bed right then and there, but the awkward atmosphere was the only thing holding them back. Though the room was pretty luxurious, it was still a room meant for one person, not two.
"A luxurious hotel like this one shouldn't have rooms so small," Fugo said, a slight chuckle following his words.
"If I expected company, I would've requested a room with two beds... Considering how much room you take up when you sleep."
"Hm?" Fugo interjected. "That's pretty bold coming from you. Would you so kindly remind me who snores like an old man?"
A smile formed on Y/n's face. It was the first time the girl had a genuine moment of happiness since he saw her. Suddenly, Fugo erupted in sadness. Did he still deserve to see her in a happy state? For him to see Y/n happy— just like that— he felt like he didn't earn this privilege.
"Oh, uh-" the girl's smile faded, her face now anxious instead. "You look like you haven't showered in a bit. I can let you borrow some of my clothes while I wash the ones you're wearing right now."
"A-Are you sure? I feel like I'll start owing you a lot of favours then..."
"No, no. It's alright. Here." She tossed a large shirt and shorts that laid on top of the bed. After fumbling a bit, Fugo managed to catch it. He observed the clothes and began to turn red; he'd have to wear Y/n's clothes while also letting her wash his.
"I won't wash your underwear or anything like that. Just your clothes, so don't worry."
Fugo nodded and made his way to the bathroom. As expected, the bathroom was pretty cramped but still gorgeous. He placed Y/n's clothes near the sink and took off the green suit he was wearing. Now bare, he walked into the shower and felt the warm water pleasure his skin.
As he cleaned his body, he felt his mind come to ease; helping him ignore the fact that his ex-lover was just outside the door. The sound of water hitting the shower tiles was loud enough to help clog any intrusive thoughts that dared enter Fugo's mind. But no matter how therapeutic it was, his mind would come crawling back to his betrayal against Bucciarati. He couldn't control his thoughts anymore, all he could imagine was the pure horror his old team would have seen when they found Narancia, Abbacchio, and Bucciarati all dead.
"God," Fugo took a deep breath out. He wanted to cry, he wanted to feel tears roll down his face— but he couldn't. All he felt was anger towards himself. Amidst his internal anger, Fugo remembered Y/n smiling earlier. The girl was still alive and well— at least he could still see her smile.
Suddenly, Fugo felt optimistic. A new opportunity was here, and she was on the other side of the bathroom door. There was no reason to dwell on the past now. He could start a fresh new slate with her. A chance that he thought he'd never have again was only meters away from his grasp, so why not take it?
Fugo quickly grabbed a towel and dried himself off. After changing into Y/n's clothes, he realized what he should do: he'd either redeem himself to the girl or leave the hotel tomorrow morning and never see her again. This time, Fugo was determined to do it right. This was going to be a second chance he was going to mess up.
