Minha Homenagem a FNF e ao Garcello, um dos melhores Mods que Já vi, Trazendo uma trilha sonora marcante, um personagem Carismático e uma mensagem foda falando sobre as consequências de se usar drogas.
This is what came of the anon ask about an enemies to lovers arc for Garcello loves, it's barely enemies because I just can't fathom Garcello disliking anyone enough to be full "enemies" lmao
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"3 in the fucking morning." You muttered as you pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a jacket before sliding your slippers on and walking out the front door, knocking on the door next to yours. Your neighbors apartment. The inconsiderate asshole who played metal music at 3 in the morning despite the fact that some people actually had to work.
There was no answer when you knocked. You pounded your fist against the door a few times and waited. There was still no answer. You huffed. You stormed back into your apartment and then out on the small balcony that adjoined his, only separated by a thin iron railing. He was leaning against the rail of the balcony with a cigarette in his hand and the door to his apartment open behind him.
"Hey!" You snapped. He barely tilted his head as an indication he heard you, lifting the cigarette to his mouth to take a breath of it. He was huge, with broad shoulders and a wide chest and thighs built like tree trunks. You shook your head, your anger getting the best of you
"What's your problem?" You asked. He took a deep breath before turning to look at you and blowing smoke from his mouth.
"Some people actually have to work in the morning." You gestured towards his open apartment door and he snorted before taking another drag from the cigarette.
"Sorry. I'll turn it down, and move it to a different wall." He said, turning to look back out at the city. You had expected more of a fight from him. No, you wanted a fight. You were up at 3 am and angry.
"No, turn it off." You demanded. He paused with the cigarette half way to his open mouth and turned his whole body to face you.
"Now I get to ask what your problem is." He said. You rolled your eyes and tapped your foot against the rug you had on your balcony.
"My problem is you're playing music at 3 in the morning. when people are trying to sleep." You huffed. He rolled his eyes.
"Listen I offered to turn it down, or move it. I get people are trying to sleep." He took another drag from the cigarette and spoke, smoke coming from his mouth as he did.
"But this is how I sleep." He snapped, stubbing the cigarette out in the ash tray on the table next to him before walking back into his apartment and shutting the door, pulling the curtains shut around it before his light went off. You huffed and walked back into your apartment and to your bedroom that apparently butted up against his. The music was quieter now, and it sounded like it moved away from the wall.
"Ass." You growled at the wall before rolling over and pulling the blanket up over your head.
You hated him. Your balcony always smelled like cigarettes because he smoked like a chimney, you could always hear the faint music at night through the paper thin walls, and who had the audacity to cough so damn loud?
Ok maybe the last part was unreasonable, but something about him just angered you. Well, not him. Just the music part. Why did he even need to play music so late? Why was he always out smoking late at night and why did he never have a shirt on?
You laid on your back in your bed with your pillow over your head. It was midnight and he started the music earlier than normal. You threw the pillow off your head and stormed onto your balcony in your shirt, forgetting to put your sweatpants on before you threw the door open.
"Again?" You snapped. He groaned and rolled his eyes.
"Togliersi dai coglioni." He muttered under his breath. What language even was that? You walked to the railing between the two balconies and planted your hands on it angrily.
"Why do you do this every night?" You snapped. He stepped away from you, staring out over the city and shrugging, taking another puff from his cigarette.
"Why do you make it a point to come yell at me every night?" She asked. You felt heat rising in your cheeks and leaned back with folded arms. He turned to look at you, looking down at your bare thighs and smirked.
"And you talk about me not wearing a shirt." He mumbled to himself with a sly smile as he lifted his cigarette to his mouth. Your face went hot and you stuttered.
"Yeah, I hear it. The walls are kinda thin here." He said. You walked back into your apartment and slamming the door. How could you win against someone who just didn't seem to care?
***
"Come on," You muttered as you turned the key in your old Honda Civic. You'd had the car for years and it never had an issue. Well until how it had never had an issue. The engine wouldn't even try to chug to life. It just clicked over and over. You rested your head forward on the steering wheel and sighed.
There was a sudden knock on your window and you jumped. You turned to see your neighbor. The annoying one, standing outside of your car. He was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a tight white T-shirt with an orange hi-visibility vest slung over his shoulder and a motorcycle helmet under his arm wearing a pair of fingerless gloves. He was surprisingly handsome during the day, you realized. He lifted his hand and placed his cigarette between his lips, shoving his hand in the pocket of his jeans as he looked at the hood of your car. You tentatively opened the door and stepped out.
"Car trouble?" He asked around the cigarette in his mouth with a tilted head. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.
"Obviously." You snapped. He shook his head, his teal hair bouncing around his ears.
"Hey don't bite, I just wanted to help." He said, holding his hand up with his palm towards you. You looked down at the ground and he scuffed the toe of his brown work boot against the ground.
"The engine won't even turn over." You muttered to the ground. He nodded his head and dropped his cigarette on the ground, crushing it under his boot and laying his vest on the top of your car, setting the helmet on top of it and pulling his gloves off.
"Pop the hood and try turning the key." He said, wiping his palms on his jeans before pulling out his phone and calling someone. You climbed in the car and pulled the lever to pop the hood on your car. He lifted the hood, holding it up and examining the engine as you turned the key. There was a faint clicking noise and you sighed. He walked around the side of the car and leaned against the side of it.
"Your starters bad, it's pretty common." He said matter-of-factly. You paused.
"Alright, what do I do?" You asked him. He sucked his teeth and worked his jaw as he thought for a moment.
"Well you can't jump it because it isn't the battery, so you'd have to have it towed to a shop." He said. You sighed, that sounded expensive. "And parts and labor for it is gonna be at around, uh, 600 dollars?" He posed it as a question rather than a statement. Why did this have to happen now?
"600 dollars?" You asked. He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. You rested your head on the steering wheel and let out a groan.
"Or," He started, "I make a few calls and find you a new starter motor and install it." He suggested with a shrug. You lifted your head and looked at him with narrowed eyes. He brushed his hair back behind his ears, staring off into space waiting for your response.
"Why?" You asked. That was your real question. Why had he even stopped to help, why was he willing to miss work to fix your car, why was he willing to put in the labor and time when you'd been an ass to him? He shrugged again and scratched at the stubble on his cheek.
"Labor costs are the most expensive. I can get that motor for about 150 or so." He said. You turned so you were sitting sideways in your car so your feet were resting on the ground next to him.
"Alright, if you're willing to." You said. He nodded and stood straight, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a pack of Marlboro cigarettes.
"I need to see if someone can get me a ride to work," You muttered, pulling out your own phone and scrolling through your contacts to see if there was someone you could call. He sighed and reached up, grabbing the helmet from on top of your car and offering it to you. You looked at him and hesitated.
"Do you want a ride to work?" He asked. You tilted your head. First he was going to fix your car, now he was offering you a ride to work?
"Ok what are you going to get out of all of this?" You asked, gesturing to the helmet and the hood of your car. He huffed, blowing smoke out of his mouth.
"I'm just trying to be nice." He said as his shoulder slumped and he shoved his free hand in the pocket of his jeans. "I'm not just the ass who plays music late at night, y'know."
You slowly took the helmet from him and climbed out of your car, grabbing your purse and closing the door behind you. You locked the door and turned to face him. He grabbed his vest from the top of your car and walked towards the black motorcycle parked a few spots away.
"Wait this is yours?" You asked. It was nice, nicer than you had expected to see from him. He turned to you and nodded. He fussed with it for a moment and lifted the seat, stuffing his vest in the small storage compartment. He reached for your bag and you hesitated before handing it to him. He carefully arranged it in the compartment so the seat would lower.
He closed the seat and reached into his pocket, fishing out his keys before swinging his leg over to straddle the bike. He sat back on the seat, putting the keys in the ignition before turning to you and nodding towards the back half of the seat. You stepped forward, trying to figure out the best way to get on. He took the helmet from you and you shuffled your feet.
"Alright put your hand on my shoulder to keep your balance," He said. You narrowed your eyes at him. "It's the easiest way to get on I promise." He chuckled. You relented and rested your hand on his shoulder. He was warm to the touch and he stayed as still as possible as you leaned against him to swing your leg over the back of the bike. You settled onto the seat, pulling your feet up and setting them on the footrests at the back.
He reached back and handed you the helmet. You slipped it on over your head and squinted to see through the tinted visor. It surprisingly didn't smell of smoke. Well, not as strongly as you expected at least. It smelled clean, like shampoo. It was nice. He shook his hair out and turned the key to start the motor and you felt it rumble to life under you. You jumped and gripped his shoulders and he chuckled.
"So where am I going?" He asked. You told him the address and he kicked the kickstand up, walking the bike backwards out of the parking spot before twisting his wrist. The bike rumbled and he lifted his feet from the ground. You jumped and squeezed his shoulders again. He stopped the bike before pulling out of the parking lot, setting one foot on the ground and turning to you.
"I promise you're going to want a better grip than that." He said, nodding his head towards where your hands rested on his broad shoulders. You shook your head and he shrugged as if to say 'suit yourself' before he turned back to the road, lifting his foot again and pulling out into the busy traffic. You were fine on the smaller roads, until he pulled onto the freeway.
The bike accelerated faster than you'd expected it to, and the way he wove through traffic made your stomach flutter. You had a death grip on his shoulders until he had to swerve into another lane to avoid a truck that cut into his lane. You jumped and wrapped your arms around his waist, gripping his belt tightly and squeezing your eyes shut as you rested the helmet against his back. You felt his chuckle reverberate through his chest and scowled.
"That wasn't so bad was it?" He asked when he stopped the bike in front of your work. You pulled the helmet off and handed it to him as you climbed off the bike. Your legs had turned to jelly during the ride and you had to grab his shoulder again to keep from falling. He put the kickstand down and swung his leg back over the bike to lift the seat and hand you your purse. You fished your keys out, pulling your car key off the ring and handing it to him.
"I didn't die." You said flatly. He rolled his eyes and lowered the seat. He pulled a carpenters pencil out of his pocket and then his wallet from his back pocket, pulling out an old receipt and scribbling something on the back of it. He handed it to you before tucking the pencil back in his pocket.
"Alright, if you can't get a ride home call me and I'll come get you." He said. You accepted the paper and glanced at the name and number. Garcello, that was his name. His handwriting was surprisingly neat, even if he pressed a bit hard into the paper. You nodded and he put the helmet on over his head, climbing back onto the bike and pulling back out into traffic.
***
You were laughing as your friend pulled into the parking lot for the apartment complex. You glanced to the corner where you'd parked to see Garcello leaning into the engine bay. She pulled around to park near your car, glancing at Garcello as he stood straight and wiped his hands on the towel looped around his belt. he had taken his shirt off, as usual, but it was hot out and you didn't blame him.
"Who is that hunk of man?" Your friend asked, leaning over to look out your window to get a better look at him. You shoved her shoulder playfully and scowled.
"That's the neighbor who keeps playing music at 3 in the morning." You said. She raised her eyebrows as Garcello twisted and stretched. You noticed the tattoo on his chest for the first time. You rolled your eyes at her.
"The one you always yell at?" She asked. You nodded as you picked up your purse off the floor.
"And now he's fixing your car for you?" She said. You nodded again and she whistled.
"Imagine what he'd do if you were actually nice to him." She said. You dropped your purse in your lap and looked at her exasperatedly. You thanked her for the ride and opened the door, climbing out of the car. Garcello turned to look at you and smiled around the cigarette in his mouth.
You finally got a good opportunity to look at him, to really look at him without the harsh shadows of night on his face. He was handsome, with a 5 o'clock shadow that defined his jawline. His teal hair framed his face and complimented his honey gold eyes nicely. He had broad shoulders and a wide chest. He had a bit of a dad bod, but it looked good on him. His jeans were tight on him and you worried the seam would burst when he leaned against your car and pulled his knee up to take some of the weight off that leg.
"Hey, I got the starter fixed." He said, nodding his head towards the car. You glanced into the engine bay. You knew very little about cars other than checking the oil levels and refilling the wiper fluid. Garcello turned and rested his hands on the edge of the car, pointing to everything in the bay as he spoke.
"I checked and it starts, I did an oil change on it because it wasn't looking too hot." He said, pointing to the dip stick.
"I also replaced the air filter because it was overdue. I also checked the belts and the alternator and everything because usually when one thing breaks all the rest goes out too." He said, standing straight again. You blinked in surprise.
"I, thanks." You said, turning to look at him. He pulled your car key from his pocket and handed it to you. You wound the key back onto your key ring. Garcello grabbed his shirt from where it was draped over the hood and slung it over his shoulder. You glanced down at the tattoo on his chest and furrowed your brows. He noticed and took his cigarette from his mouth.
"You are my sunshine in Italian." He said, tapping the tattoo. You nodded.
"Are you Italian?" You asked. He didn't have an accent, but Garcello was a very Italian name now that you thought about it.
"By blood but I wasn't born there." He said as he lowered the hood of your car. He dropped it the last few inches and you heard the latch click shut. He pulled his T-shirt back on and you reached into your purse to pull out the water bottle you'd gotten for him.
"Here." You said. He took it and nodded his head in thanks, unscrewing the cap and chugging the bottle. Some of it dripped down his chin and onto his shirt as he chugged it. He dumped the last little bit onto his hand and pushed his hair back from his face. You felt heat rising in your cheeks again, there was just somehting about him.
"So what do I owe you?" You asked, pulling out your phone so you could either venmo him or make a note to get cash tomorrow for him. He shook his head as he screwed the cap back onto the empty water bottle and grabbed the tool bag that was sitting on the ground next to his feet.
"Nothing, you're good." He said, walking back towards the apartment complex. You followed him as he walked into the lobby and towards the stairs.
"I have to owe you something." You said. "You said that the replacement would cost like 600 dollars at a shop and you did that and more." You said, trying to reason with him. He just shrugged and continued walking up the stairs to the fifth floor.
"Like I said you're good." He took the cigarette from his mouth and blew out the smoke.
"At least let me pay you for the parts, you missed work to fix my car Garcello." You said. He paused and smirked before continuing the trek up the steps.
"Listen, you don't owe me anything. Consider it an apology for the music." He shrugged his shoulders as he pushed open the door to the fifth floor. He held it open for you and you walked past him into the hall.
"Then I need to apologize for being an ass about the music." You said. He let the door shut and took a breath through his nose, blowing out through his mouth.
"Ok tell you what," He took a drag from his cigarette, "how about I make you dinner tomorrow and I'll consider that an apology."
"How is you making me dinner me apologizing?" You asked as the two of you stopped in front of your apartment doors. He dug his keys out of his pocket and shrugged.
"I just want to spend time with you, if you're alright with that." He said, suddenly seeming shy as his cheeks glowed a light pink under the few grease smudges on his face. You felt heat rising in your own cheeks and prayed he wouldn't notice how you shifted your weight.
"I, sure." You said. He grinned around the cigarette and you jumped in. "But, let's go out, and I'm paying for it." He shrugged and chuckled.
"If you insist." He opened the door to his apartment and paused before walking inside.
"I'm gonna take a shower, but, text me and we'll figure it out ok?" He suggested. You nodded and smiled, unlocking your own door walking inside. You immediately pulled your phone from your bag along with the receipt he'd written his number on.
