Fugo hadn't understood what was happening initially.

One moment he was cradling Narancia's head in his lap, eyes closed to focus on the way Haze's virus was moving throughout the lifeless body, and the next he couldn't feel anything through his fingertips.

When Fugo opened his eyes, he could see himself - or rather, see Abbacchio's body from a third person perspective, as if he wasn't held within it anymore. And when he looked down at himself, he realized that was because he wasn't. His own form, ghostly and pale, was drifting out of Abbacchio's body.

His soul, that's what it had to be. It couldn't be anything else.

But if his soul was moving, leaving or migrating, he didn't know which, then that would mean that- that Haze wouldn't be by Narancia anymore. It didn't matter if he was dying or his soul was vanishing, Narancia was not alive again. Fugo was failing.

Purple Haze, as if sensing Fugo's distress, emerged beside Abbacchio's body and stared with deep golden eyes at him.

Fugo reached out to Haze and was suddenly jerked backwards, far away from Narancia.

"No!" he couldn't help but shriek, watching in horror as Purple Haze flew through the air beside him until it dissipated back into Fugo's soul.

Narancia's corpse grew small as he moved further and further away from it.

There was a whooshing noise, something had passed him in the air, and suddenly Fugo was blinking open his eyes, disoriented and confused.

A wave of nausea hit him when the world came into sharp focus again, biting back a gag at the dizziness pulling between his eyes. Everything felt strange, his limbs were shorter than he'd gotten used to, he could move them far more easily, his mind was clearer.

Fugo lifted his hands to examine them, creamy, smooth skin save for the scars on his knuckles from when his temper got the best of him. A hot pink suit with holes. Soft wisps of blond hair around his shoulders that he could see if he pulled the hair taught.

As Fugo scrambled to his feet, barely able to keep his balance from the sudden change, he could make out Bucciarati's body off to the side lying in a pool of blood with sightless eyes gazing at the sky and it only made him move faster.

Something had happened with Chariot Requiem, that much was obvious by the fact that he was back in his own body now, but Fugo didn't know what, and really, he didn't care. All he could think about was getting to Narancia.

He ran like he'd never run before.

It wasn't too far to go, only fifty meters or so, but it felt like a lifetime away. His mind barely processed the man passing by him as he neared the entrance to the hall Narancia was left in, Abbacchio running in the direction Fugo had come in. For Bucciarati, he thought numbly. But if Fugo allowed himself to think about what he'd seen, about their capo, he… he'd lose his mind all over again.

It could only have been seconds, not even a minute, since Haze had been wrenched from Narancia's corpse, the supply of the virus carrying the oxygen cut off as the sunlight killed what was left inside him. But time was of the essence here. Time was something Narancia did not have.

"Narancia, Narancia," Fugo repeated as he fell to the boy's side, skidding on his knees to lift the brunet up with a delicate sort of gentleness he'd hardly known he had before this. He brushed his fingers along the side of Narancia's cheek, meeting with the cool, tanned skin.

"H-Haze," Fugo stammered frantically, "Again, start again, quick, there's no time, Haze- Haze, why aren't you doing anything?!"

Purple Haze had emerged when Fugo summoned it but it just sat there motionless, knelt with its hands on its knees as it stared bleakly at Fugo and refused to move.

"I'm telling you!" Fugo shrieked, "I'm your master, listen to me!"

His heart was racing faster and faster by the minute, fear creeping back into his veins as he gripped Narancia's arms so tightly they'd likely bruise if they still could. This couldn't be happening, he'd been so close, Fugo could feel it, just a few more minutes, surely-

When something touched his shoulder, Fugo jerked back violently, nearly dropping Narancia's body before steadying himself. He hadn't been breathing, he realized numbly as he drew in a ragged inhale at the way Haze was touching him. As if it was comforting him.

Haze wasn't doing anything because it couldn't do anything anymore. And it knew that because Fugo knew that.

Everything was too much. The only thing he could hear was his own uneasy breathing and the rush of blood in his ears, heart throbbing in what had to be pain, fear, anger, whatever it was that he felt at the moment which was just too much.

Fugo stared numbly at Narancia, the boy's body slowly growing blurry before him as the taste of salt crept into his mouth where tears were slipping down his cheeks.

"N-na-ran… c-cia," Fugo hiccupped, sorrow getting the better of him as he lifted Narancia's body up carefully, resting the brunet head against his shoulder, buried his own face in the crook of that cold neck and sobbed.

He was making a scene, minutely aware of voices drifting into the corridor from outside the Colosseum where the world was waking up, back to normal for everyone except the person who mattered most. There would be people coming to the Colosseum soon enough, the guards there to open the site to tourists, officials to inspect the damage caused by the fights, curious bystanders possibly drawn by the noise.

None of that mattered.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Fugo had read about broken hearts before but never thought they'd affect him, never thought he'd ever experience one himself. He always kept a distance between himself and others, thought he'd been doing that this whole time. When had Narancia become such a big part of him? How could Fugo be stupid enough to let that happen? For all the things he'd learned, all the things he knew, Fugo didn't know how to handle this.

So he screamed.

Fugo screamed at Narancia for doing this to him, screamed at Passione for killing his best friend, screamed at the God he was stupid enough to try to pray to when he knew no such thing could exist. But most of all, at himself for letting this happen in the first place. Fugo sat there and screamed until his throat was ragged, until his sobs came out as gasping hiccups and broken wails and even then, he couldn't stop.

What did he do now? All of his plans, everything he wanted to do after this was over, it all centered on Narancia. He'd wanted to teach him again. He'd wanted to watch him go to school. He'd wanted to change Passione with him. Fugo had wanted to find a new place Mista would want to move in with Giorno and Bucciarati and Abbacchio would want to be together so Fugo would sigh and complain but he'd pick out a small apartment for him and Narancia, in an old, ivy-covered stone building down the road from their favorite bakery that he'd had his eye on for awhile now. They'd have their own bedrooms but would only ever use one at a time and they'd find excuses to explain it until Fugo was ready. Until Fugo figured out what exactly he felt and how he felt and eventually get the words to form long enough to tell Narancia. And then they'd grow up together and maybe grow old together and Fugo would finally feel happy.

Fugo had ruined everything. He hadn't saved Narancia. It should've been him instead. Narancia was so strong, and bright, and warm, and friendly, and everyone loved him. Fugo was angry, and violent, and cold, and weak.

After all, what could Fugo offer if not his own life for the others? Nothing at all.

Yes, it should've been him.

A swallow chirped as it flew above Fugo and he watched it fly over them with wide, gray wings and a hint of red around the neck and he thought of Aerosmith, how Fugo would never see it again, and a second wave of emotion swam through him.

Between sobs, he could've sworn he heard an exhale against his neck.

Fugo jerked backwards, careful to handle Narancia's corpse with caution despite the shock of that single breath so sharp it nearly stopped his own heart.

But no, surely he'd imagined it. As he held Narancia against his chest to examine his face, the boy's eyes were still closed, his body still motionless. It was just wishful thinking. Or maybe the last of the breath Fugo had worked so hard to keep within Narancia's body escaping it.

Fuck, he knew better than to hope by now. It just made it hurt worse.

Fugo sighed, sounding more like a sob than a breath, and squeezed his eyes shut, resting his chin against Narancia's forehead.

There was a puff of air against his chest.

Fugo didn't even want to look this time, he knew what he'd see, but he looked anyway and-

And Narancia's eyes were open. And staring.

Right.

At.

Him.

The world froze. It was so dead silent that Fugo thought his heart must have even stopped beating as he held his breath and stared right back. It couldn't be, this had to be a fluke, maybe Narancia's body was just jostled, maybe his eyes were open to begin with and Fugo had just seen wrong-

And then Narancia coughed.

Fugo shrieked and dropped him on the cobblestones.

"Fuck!" Fugo cursed, scrambling back to his knees from where he'd fallen on his ass in shock.

As he neared Narancia's body, he watched it shake slightly and mutter, "Ow."

"I- Y-You-" Fugo couldn't form a sentence, both verbally and mentally, so many things rushing through in confusion that he couldn't process them. His hands hovered over Narancia's body, trembling so violently he thought maybe he was seizing for a moment. Too scared to touch the boy for fear of breaking him.

Narancia rolled onto his back, entirely by himself, those were Narancia's own muscles working, and his violet eyes shifted over to meet Fugo's. A smirk spread across his face.

"You're ugly."

Fugo started crying all over again.

"W-Wait, I'm sorry!" he could hear Narancia stammering, clearly misinterpreting the situation but right now, Fugo didn't feel the need to correct him.

When Fugo felt something brush against his knee, he jerked forwards, scooping up Narancia so he could bury his face in the brunet's chest. There it was. A heartbeat.

Fugo sat there, holding Narancia, listening to the steady sound of the boy's life flowing back through his body, and sobbed.

He had no idea how long they'd both stayed there but it had to be awhile because the next time he opened his eyes, the sun was higher in the sky, creeping into the stone corridor to touch them with its warmth.

"Fugo," he heard the brunet say and finally pulled back, letting the boy go so Fugo could take him all in.

Narancia's tanned skin glowed gold in the sunlight, there was a halo of light behind his raven-black hair, his violet eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievousness, his lips were pink and full of color.

"Fugo," Narancia repeated and those pink lips curved into a smile. "Stop crying."

Fugo couldn't help but bark out a choked laugh, rubbing at his eyes to try to clear the tears long enough to just stare at Narancia, alive and staring right back.

"Don't tell me that," Fugo rasped, his hands balling into fists as he remembered what he'd seen, that dead body, the way the world had turned gray and dark from a single moment. "Please. Don't."

"Okay," Narancia replied. The boy's hands curled around Fugo's, pulling them away from where his nails had begun biting into the flesh of his palms to press them against Narancia's chest. "Don't stop crying, just don't."

"But you-"

"I'm here." Narancia paused, frowning as he added, "Well I think I am, right? Unless you died too?"

"N-No, I-"

"See? So there's nothing to cry over." Narancia sounded so certain, so sure of himself and his words that Fugo didn't even recognize him for a second.

"…When did you get so damn mature?" Fugo choked out, trying to force himself to laugh but it came out like a sob when he felt Narancia's heart beat beneath his fingertips.

"How do you even- how can you just sit there and act like nothing happened?!" Fugo continued, feeling so confused. He didn't want to keep crying either, but this felt like a dream. Maybe he really did die and just didn't remember it. But there was no way that was true because this felt too damn much like Heaven for it to be real since Fugo wasn't going there when he died. No, he wasn't even good enough for Hell.

"Don't cry," Narancia repeated and a throb of anger coursed through Fugo's chest.

"Shut up!" Fugo snapped, unable to stop himself as he cried, "You didn't just watch one of the only people you've ever loved die!"

"Fugo…" Narancia's voice was low, heavy with something in it as he whispered, "You love me?"

"That's not the point!" Fugo shrieked, and he was, he was screaming now, but the initial shock was ebbing and the relief was overwhelming and the hope was palpable and real and Narancia wasn't going to have known.

"You were dead! I watched you bleed out! I watched your skin turn gray! I watched you fucking die and there was nothing I could do! I-If Giorno hadn't b-been there, if H-Haze hadn't- you would've… And you were! I don't think you get that!" Narancia flinched at that and Fugo felt a little bad but that guilt was quickly replaced with the anger swelling inside his chest. "When people die, they're gone! They're just gone! And you were, no matter how much I fucking tried, y-you weren't moving, you were d-dead and I-I did everything. I p-prayed and- n-nothing changed."

"I held your corpse," Fugo finished numbly. "And I thought you were gone forever."

Something he said must've sunk in, or maybe Narancia was just too surprised that Fugo had even screamed at him at all, but all that met his tirade was silence. Neither of them moved, Fugo refused to, holding Narancia's gaze as readily as he could despite the tears pouring out of them. He was angry and sad, so fucking sad, and it didn't make any fucking sense, but Fugo still had his pride. He just didn't understand how Narancia was fine, how he was just sitting there like he hadn't been dead five minutes ago. Nothing made sense except the knowledge that Narancia certainly had been dead and that Fugo was lost. Completely, utterly lost.

"I'm sorry," Narancia muttered quietly and what remained of his pride shattered.

"No, that- that's not what I wanna hear," Fugo whispered, reaching out for the brunet before thinking twice and retreating into himself to bury his face in his hands. This was always what happened, he lashed out, he didn't know anything else and he was ruining any second chance he might- no, Fugo didn't deserve a second chance to begin with. He'd had so many chances by now that he deserved nothing at all.

"You shouldn't- d-don't be sorry," Fugo stammered. "I just- Fuck. It wasn't your fault, obviously I know that, and I do but y-you were dead and everyone left and everything hurt and I couldn't- I couldn't save you. And I promised I would, I promised, it should've been me, if I had just been closer-"

Fugo broke off when he felt something wrap around his wrists and he caught a glimpse of Narancia's soft expression through his fingertips before Fugo's hands were pulled away from his face and something was touching his lips.

Narancia.

Narancia was kissing him.

It was only a second or two, shorter than any kiss Fugo had ever had before, not that he'd had many, but he didn't think he'd ever felt as much because of them. Narancia was just- special. And his lips were dry and chapped but they were so warm against Fugo's own, so firm despite the horrid taste of salt, that it made him want to cry all over again.

And then Narancia had pulled back, a bright red flush going all the way to his ears but he held Fugo's shocked gaze with such firm certainty in his eyes that Fugo's doubts and fear seemed small in comparison.

"You're wrong," Narancia said, and when Fugo tried to argue, the brunet slapped his hand over Fugo's mouth. "No, really. You're wrong. Remember? I said 'this time, I'll be the one to protect you,' back when… when you came back."

"That doesn't-"

"It does though," Narancia insisted. "If you're gonna get upset that you didn't die instead of me, then I get to be happy that you weren't the one who died. Because I said I'd protect you and I'm glad it was me. You said you didn't do anything, but you did, right?"

"It was Haze," Fugo murmured against Narancia's fingers. "It wasn't me. Haze has been different since Castagna, it's different than me now. Better. And Giorno too. I had nothing to do with it."

"That doesn't make any sense," Narancia argued, frowning at Fugo. "Haze is you! Just like Aerosmith is me. And, and if it had been you instead… Aerosmith wouldn't have been able to help at all. I wouldn't have been able to save you, wouldn't even be able to try."

"…I wouldn't have wanted you to," Fugo rasped, pushing Narancia's hand off his mouth before he could let the warmth radiating from the brunet distract him any further. Narancia still had a hand around one of Fugo's wrists and it felt like his skin was burning. "It would've been enough-"

"But it's not, it's clearly not, because you're still upset!" Narancia cried and rubbed his fingers against Fugo's cheek, against the salty tear tracks running down them. "And it wouldn't have been enough for me either. Nothing would've been. But it's okay, Fugo, because we're both still here after all. And I want you to stay with me and if you get too full of regret, if you get too scared, you won't. You leave. Remember?"

Fugo did. Of course he did. It was easier to run away than face things, to not make the hard decisions and just allow himself to drift through life with nothing meaning anything at all. And it was hard when it felt like your entire life was made up of nothing but regret and guilt and fear and anger. But Narancia also made Fugo feel like maybe there was more to him than that.

"…I saw my mom, y'know."

Narancia's words startled Fugo out of getting lost in the boy's violet eyes. He didn't know much about Narancia's mother except that she was magic and she was kind and warm and Fugo always thought that had to be where Narancia got it from. That, and that what Narancia had always wanted was to see her again.

"I was flying. With Aerosmith, with her, she was in Aerosmith, she was there the whole time, Fugo, she was right there." Fugo felt his mouth dry, didn't know what to say in his confusion. "We were flying together. And I wanted to fly off with her forever."

"…Why didn't you?" Fugo asked when he found his words again. "No one would've… i-it wouldn't been-"

"Because I didn't wanna fly away from you."

"I don't know what you mean by that," Fugo said immediately, even as Narancia's eyes furrowed to glare at him.

"Yeah," Narancia said. "You do. You know everything, Fugo."

"You only think I do," Fugo rejected, trying to pull out of Narancia's grip. He didn't like this, didn't like how it felt like Narancia was seeing through him so easily when he was the one with translucent skin just ten minutes earlier.

"Well clearly," Narancia said with a roll of his eyes, and Fugo pretended that didn't hurt. "I get that now. Because you obviously have no idea what I'm trying to say here."

"I don't want-"

"Uh-uh, shut up. I always listen to you even when I don't like it so you listen to me for once." When Narancia stopped, Fugo realized he was waiting for an answer. All he could do was nod his head briefly.

"Good." Narancia grinned. "So I'm not dead. And neither are you, and we're both sitting here together and you're making me talk way more than I wanted to but that's okay because if I didn't, you'd run away because you're scared. And that's okay, Bucciarati always says it's fine to be scared, but when you get scared, you always hide, Fugo. You don't show it to anyone and it takes forever to get back to you and you don't know that because no one's ever said it before because no one wanted to piss you off. But I don't care about pissing you off right now. And I'm not gonna let you either, I'm not gonna let you run away, not ever."

"How is this fucking running?!" Fugo protested. "I'm right here, aren't I?!"

Narancia gave him a look and Fugo quickly averted his eyes. This wasn't fucking fair, why was he getting lectured like this, but that was stupid, he knew why. Of course he fucking did. All he ever did was run away, run from expectations, then his parents, then society, and then his own friends. His family. And even though Narancia was- was alive… Fugo would never forgive himself for this. And, Fugo supposed, that was also running away, wasn't it?

He felt arms on his shoulders and looked up in time to see Narancia pulling him into a hug, stiff and awkward because Fugo didn't hug people, he wasn't a hugging person, but Narancia was and it was all too easy to crumple a second later into the embrace.

"Fugo," he felt Narancia murmur against his shoulder. "You never, ever said you loved me before. And I said it all the time to you and I didn't really get it until just now but I always wanted you to say it back to me and maybe this isn't, like, like what Bucciarati and Abbacchio have, and not like Mista with Giorno, but I don't want what they have. I just want you, okay? Whatever that winds up being, as long as it's with you, I don't really care. And plus, it feels… you feel right."

They both knew what Narancia meant by that without having to explain it. Fugo felt it too, had always felt it ever since that day he'd met Narancia in the alleyway. He never would've approached someone like that and had never done it since but Narancia had felt different. He always had.

"…I wasn't going to get to say it," Fugo finally whispered, bunching his fists in Narancia's black crop top.

"I know."

"You were gone and I hadn't told you."

"I know."

"I really do love you, Narancia. I do."

Narancia's arms squeezed around Fugo's torso tighter and he could practically hear the grin in the brunet's voice as he said, "I know."

Fugo stayed in Narancia's arms for a few seconds longer before gently pushing him back. A part of him felt like he should be embarrassed, having to be the one consoled despite not being the one who died, but another part thought it was funny they were both acting their own age roles for once. And Narancia wouldn't want him to be ashamed either.

"You kissed me," Fugo muttered, suddenly remembering how Narancia had shut him up earlier.

Narancia's cheeks turned pink again but he nodded and said, "Yup. It was nice."

"Do…" Fugo trailed off, swallowing awkwardly before he flitted his gaze back to Narancia and said, "Do it again?"

Now that Fugo had finally stopped crying, everything felt sore and stiff and his eyes hurt like hell to keep open but it was worth it because at least he could clearly see the way Narancia leaned in to kiss him again.