SillyCookieSonic123

The day’s events seemed to prevent Sumire from spilling her heart out to Senpai, which was a silver lining. However, Ryoba needed more than just a silver lining to feel proud of her efforts. She was lying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling, contemplating her emotions. To this day she had only felt three major things: love, rage, and pity. Love was for her Senpai, rage was for Sumire trying to take Senpai, and pity was for her mindbroken father. She was curious as to how her mother was able to break her father down, but was too afraid to ask (she was not afraid). She knew she wouldn’t be able to bring herself to do the same, and it wasn’t like she’d have to. Senpai would love her for real. “Sumire Saitozaki,” she hissed like the name was a swear word. The stupid girl thought she had some lesbian crush on her, seriously. Her mother would react poorly if she knew she messed everything up that badly. She knew Mother didn’t care if her Senpai was a boy or a girl, having had said

Everything was going exactly to plan. Ryoba smothered down her excited giggle as that disgusting girl came into the bathroom, head bowed shyly with clasped hands hanging low. “Who would want to talk to me in a place like this?” Sumire wondered aloud. She grinned wickedly, recognizing her having a point. Maybe a bathroom was an odd place to meet, but her emotions were running high when she made the snap decision. Besides, cleanup would be easier, and the girl wouldn’t be able to care where she was for much longer anyway. Gently pushing the stall door open so it would creak, she stepped out and stood right behind her target facing the wall. Somehow she hadn’t noticed the scare tactic. “Ahem.” “Oh!” she gasped, clutching her heart as she whirled around. “Oh, Ryoba-chan!” she sighed in relief. Her hand dropped back to her side at the familiar face. “Are you the one who let that note in my locker? What did you want to talk to me about?” Hook, line, and sinker. “I need to tell you

Moeko couldn’t understand what he was doing wrong. He was inside the Rainbow Boys’ circle of friends just like he had wanted to be, and they were seeming to warm up to him as time went on. So if that’s what he wanted, why wasn’t he happy with it? All of this was a miracle in the first place, but it wasn’t a good enough miracle. He wanted more. More was selfish. He’d take it, though. Whenever he had to push himself to achieve something he desperately wanted in the past, he would do it. He was going to take what he wanted and not give up just yet. If only the road to it and the waiting wasn’t so damn hard on him. He was bright and angry and so strong like his name implied, which was why he never had wanted to change it. Why change something that already fit you too well? Besides, he’d always have it to remind him of where he started once he finally got to his destination. Moeko could love whoever the hell he wanted, even if it was another boy like him. Jokichi might understand. He

You don’t know the name of the quirky song playing out of tune with the steadily-whistling kettle, but it still makes you raise your eyebrows in question as well as amusement. Your partner is singing along to it as he moves throughout your kitchen in a way that makes you fall even deeper in love with him. He’s so weird, but you can’t get enough of it. “What happened when your boss came over recently?” you ask. Gale stops mid-step to look at you. “Oh, I just might be getting a promotion at work!” He tries his best to show you excitement, but you see him hiding something behind his expression as he sometimes does with you. Something that you can’t put your finger on, but what seems like it could be dark. “That’s great!” you cheer instead. It wasn’t that you were afraid to know or even afraid of him, god no, but you knew you were kept unaware for a reason. He was the smartest man you had ever known, so he had to be right in that regard. “Does that mean I’ll be seeing less of you, then?”

”We need to talk.” Everyone turned to stare at Gaku, surprised. There hadn’t been any talking in general for half an hour as Hayanari (begrudgingly) played on the Switch with the rest just watching him silently. Dairoku nodded once in acknowledgement, scooting closer to his side. “Yeah, I…I agree.” Shit. Umeji knew where this was going and his gaze flickered to the door, his only escape route besides the window. Of course the arguably most sensitive members would bring it up first. Truthfully he was grateful he wasn’t the one who had to, not that he would voice it. “We don’t have to do that right now,” he stalled. “Yes,” Hayanari set the game aside, “we do. You know that.” Damn that pervert for saying the right things for once. “Umeji just hates feelings,” Hokuto smirked. “Okay, okay. Did anyone want to start?” What a hypocrite. Gaku shrugged, his mask of indifference slipping entirely off his face. “I mean, I brought it up, so it should be only fair I did? I guess? Maybe?” He

Narancia came back not too worse for wear once he did, hair slightly longer and clothes disheveled on his thinning body. He regretted his choice to stay on the pier every day even if Bucciarati ordered him to, for he hadn’t been strong enough to defy him and face his own fears. Now there were dead members that he could’ve saved, maybe. Giorno welcomed him back with open arms and wrapped him in understanding as to why he did what he did, but Mista was a little harder to break through to. He had shoved him and yelled some, but there were tears in his eyes as he grabbed him and hugged him regardless. He was distant at first, not that he could blame him. He came back around and started saying he should finally see Fugo since he had missed him the most. Thinking of Fugo actually missing him made Narancia’s heart soar, since he had missed him so terribly as well. He could finally tell him how he felt now that they were together again, and he wanted to hear that voice more than anything.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” were the first words out of Fugo’s mouth when he saw his boyfriend in such a state. Giorno, Mista, Abbacchio, Bucciarati, and even Trish had beaten the boss in their great fight, but not without injuries of their own. Abbacchio nearly died from being impaled and Bucciarati had to have his soul forced back into his body, both courtesy of Giorno’s quick thinking and his incredible Stand being just fast enough. Narancia, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as lucky. He was impaled in several places on his body, and even with Gold Experience intervening he needed to be hospitalized for blood loss. He looked so small and helpless in the hospital bed. “The metal bars pierced his skull,” Giorno explained. “That was the most serious injury, and I’m still not sure if I was able to help much. I just-“ “Please let me be alone with him,” Fugo whimpered. “Get out.” The bond nodded, grateful that he was too busy to blame him for everything. “I never meant for this to

Narancia was always noisy as the passenger in a car, but Fugo would sooner tear all his snowy hair out before he let him drive instead. They hadn’t brought enough money to stay in a hotel because, well, Narancia again. He couldn’t be trusted with anything. No doubt was Bucciarati back at home staring at the wallet left on the counter with mild amusement and horror, the poor thing. “I’m not sleeping in a car.” “We could just not sleep!” Narancia suggested cheerily. Fugo pounded his fist on the steering wheel in irritation, grazing the horn and nearly sending them off the road in fright. “Dammit! We can’t just not sleep, Narancia! Don’t be stupid!” “Watch me,” he mumbled sullenly. They drove around for a while longer until they were afraid they wouldn’t be able to get much gas on the trip back, surrounded mostly by a wooded area and no buildings or hotels in sight. “I don’t want to sleep in the woods, either.” Narancia raised his head, deciding to speak up. “There’s sleeping

Bucciarati was in his office doing some paperwork for Giorno as usual, chin in hand. He really was grateful to be capo even after everything that happened, but nobody in their right mind would enjoy something like this. It came with the job, however, and someone had to do it. “BUCCIARATI!” Oh my god. He raised his head and found the residential dumbass couple of Passione staring back at him, Narancia excited and Fugo slightly embarrassed. “Yes? Can I help you two with something?” Narancia pointed right at him, smiling warmly. “Coconut!” “Coconut.” “Yes, coconut,” Fugo agreed. “Bucciarati, Narancia was telling me about how the two of us have fruits associated with the colors we wear, and so we discussed what fruits the rest of the gang would have. I’ll agree with coconut, since you’re wearing white and that is the inside of a coconut. Plus you smell like them.” Bucciarati just nodded along with the explanation. It was a typical day in the life of Passione, after all.

Being thirty minutes late wasn’t too much of a problem when it came to things like this. It wasn’t like being slow to a date, missions could run long and turn complicated for both parties involved without a moment’s notice. An hour was more worrisome in this line of work, but still somewhat acceptable. An hour and a half was when things got real. Now they were at two and a half hours without a single word from Narancia, and panic had settled in. “Fugo,” Giorno began evenly, “it’s going to be okay. He’ll be back before we know it and it will all be fine.” Fugo knew that. Well, he knew that, but he didn’t know that for sure. The logical part of his brain was screaming at him to not pull this shit right now and take a deep breath before he really started losing it. Too late. “It’s been almost three hours!” “Yeah, he should’ve checked in by now,” Mista agreed. Abbacchio just kept listening to his music and nodding his head, using his headphones as a barrier between his world and