Warnings in this chapter for brief illusions to Giorno being abused and Fugo's teacher being a creep.
Chapter Three
Bruno kept an eye on Fugo for the rest of the week, but whether the other boy was avoiding him on purpose or not remained to be seen, because Fugo seemed to make himself scarce more often than not, especially when there wasn't a larger group that he could disappear into. Bruno would typically only see Fugo in their shared classes, or at lunch before he would inevitably leave early to go act as teacher's aide.
Bruno knew that it could be a result from tension at home; he'd met Fugo's parents before, and seen how they interacted with him. While he could make the argument that Leone's parents at least wanted what was best for their children, misguided or not, Fugo's parents obviously wanted what was best for them. And with a son who was as smart as Fugo, that was apparently pushing him to show his abilities to as many people as possible. Bruno was forever grateful to his father for being the way he was.
But it was a shame that Fugo didn't have someone to tell him it was okay to take a rest every once in a while.
Finally, one day, Bruno caught Fugo alone between classes as he was fishing something out of his locker.
"Fugo, hey," Bruno called.
Fugo froze as if caught in some sort of act, an odd scrunch to his shoulders as Bruno came up behind him. "What do you need?" he asked tersely.
"I don't need anything, I just wanted to ask if you were doing okay. We haven't seen a lot of you lately."
"I'm fine," Fugo said shortly. "But I'm going to be late, so I need to go."
"Panna, hold on just a second," Bruno tried, reaching out.
Fugo suddenly jerked back and a slew of papers he had been reaching for fluttered onto the floor.
"Shit," Fugo hissed as he scrambled to pick them up. Bruno hurriedly crouched to help, apologizing.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's fine," Fugo snapped, hands clenching around the papers before he took a deep breath and eased his grip.
Bruno couldn't help but see that the stack of papers contained not only projects from history class, but also English and literature.
"You grade stuff for other classes too?" Bruno asked.
Fugo took the stack Bruno had collected and shoved all the papers back into a file. "Sometimes. It takes me half the time it does most of the teachers so…"
"Fugo," Bruno said with a small frown. "You're not…letting them overwork you, are you?"
"No, I told you I'm fine, Bruno, stop bringing it up!" Fugo snapped. "Now, I really have to go."
Bruno watched as he quickly turned down the hall and hurried away.
He pressed his lips into a thin line. That interaction had only solidified his worry about Fugo. He just didn't know how he was going to get his friend to confide in him.
Fugo reluctantly knocked on the door to the history classroom.
"You can come in."
Fugo stepped inside, clutching the papers to his chest.
"You know you don't have to knock," Signore Pisani said with a fond smile that Fugo looked away from. The man's eyes always seemed to be on him whenever he was in the same room.
"I finished the papers yesterday, including my own, and came to drop them off. If you don't have anything else…"
"I would actually like you to help me with next week's course plan," Pisani said. "I'll be away this weekend, so I want it all ready for when I get back."
Fugo tried to hide his annoyance. Really, he didn't think that aides were supposed to do this kind of thing, especially sixteen-year-old volunteer ones, but if he complained, he was sure his parents would hear of it and that would make for an unendingly annoying conversation to say the least. It was easier to deal with Signore Pisani's perpetual smile and staring eyes and tendencies to stand too close…
Fugo shook himself and shoved those thoughts viciously away as he took a seat at the desk and reached into the folder to pull out the history papers.
"All right. What are you planning for next week?"
Signore Pisani stood to retrieve a text book and then proceeded to lean over the back of Fugo's chair to place it in front of him, flipping to the spot. Fugo tensed, hating the close proximity. It made his fists clench, wishing the man would just understand what personal space was. He could feel the sweat beneath the man's cheap, polyester shirt as he brushed against his back. Disgusting.
"Ah, right here, we'll be getting to ancient Rome next week," Pisani said.
Fugo glanced over the chapter summary. "This is a long section and there is a lot to go through here. I would personally suggest taking at least two weeks on it."
Pisani leaned over Fugo's shoulder again to see the book, hand descending on his shoulder. Fugo stiffened, frozen as the contact continued uncomfortably, the smell of the man's heavy cologne almost stifling.
Finally, he pulled away, allowing Fugo to breathe again. "I would say that would be the best course of action. As always a very bright boy."
Fugo pressed his lips into a thin line, and focused fully on the book. The sooner they got through this, the sooner he could leave.
It was Friday again and Giorno was finally completely out of money. The day before he'd found some bread and an apple in the kitchen to bring for lunch, but there hadn't been anything today since his mother hardly ever bothered going shopping unless there was no other option.
So that day when they got to the cafeteria, he quietly slipped out of line and toward their usual table, hoping no one would notice that he didn't have any food.
Illuso was already there and glanced over at him. "Hey, you not hungry today or something?"
Giorno shrugged, glancing up as Bruno, Leone and Mista made their way over, talking about some assignment they were working on.
"Hey, so Mista!" Narancia called when he showed up at the table with Trish. "When are you going to let me come over to play that new game you got?"
"I don't know, I gotta work this weekend," Mista said.
Narancia sighed as he sat down at the table. "You're way too responsible, man."
"Maybe you should take some notes," Leone grunted.
"I am responsible, I just like video games better. You can't work all the time anyway," Narancia told him before turning to Giorno.
Giorno thought he had escaped scrutiny, but he should have known better. "Dude, didn't you bring any food today?" Narancia asked.
Giorno felt his face start to heat as everyone was now turning toward him. Now he was going to have to say something.
"I…sort of forgot my wallet," he mumbled.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Narancia demanded. "I just thought you'd brought your lunch again."
Giorno shrugged. "I'm not really that hungry anyway…" And, of course, at that moment, his stomach growled, betraying him.
"Come on, I think we can share, right?" Bruno said and before Giorno knew it, everyone was handing him something.
Bruno passed him half a sandwich, grabbing a fruit cup off of Leone's tray.
"Hey!" the goth snapped. "I didn't agree to this."
"Shut up, Leone," Narancia said as he shoved some french fries towards Giorno. Trish gave him a cookie and Mista handed him some cheese crackers.
Before he knew it, Giorno had more food in front of him than most of the others.
"You…you didn't have to do that," he said.
"It's no problem, man," Mista said. "Besides, going hungry's bad for the brain. That's what my mom says."
"Let us know if you don't have lunch again, okay?" Bruno told him. "We really don't mind sharing."
Leone growled and then grunted as Bruno obviously stomped on his foot.
Giorno nodded, feeling suddenly overwhelmed as he started eating the shared food, a strange feeling forming in the center of his chest. It wasn't unpleasant though, just…warm. He couldn't exactly place the feeling, but it stayed with him the whole day, flaring whenever he thought of lunch, and it made him smile.
The feeling instantly went away the moment he got home. He could hear his stepfather yelling before he even got in the door, accompanied by the sound of something smashing.
"That bastard's gonna pay me back, I'll make sure of it. He cheated me!"
Giorno quickly ducked inside the living room as the man stormed through the house and out the front door, slamming it behind him.
Giorno swallowed hard. This was going to be a long weekend.
Another weekend passed too quickly and Bruno made his way to school Monday, the refreshment of the sea air leaving him as he got back inside the concrete walls.
Bruno looked around briefly for Fugo but the blond didn't seem to be anywhere nearby. He'd tried to call him over the weekend, but he hadn't answered.
"Hey, what's up?" Leone asked him as he climbed the steps to the school, stopping beside him, hands in his pockets.
Bruno frowned. "Nothing. I'm just wondering how Fugo's doing. We just don't seem to see that much of him anymore."
A furrow pinched Leone's dark brows. "Yeah, I know."
Mista dashed up the steps toward them and threw his arms around their shoulders. "Don't forget we have group project assignments in science today."
Leone groaned. "Don't remind me."
"Don't worry, maybe we'll get assigned together," Mista grinned, waggling his eyebrows.
Leone shoved him away. "I hope not, then I'll just be left doing all the work."
Mista clasped a hand against his chest with a wounded expression. "That is not true! You know I always do my share of the work."
"That was not the case when it came to the history assignment last year," Leone grunted.
"Okay, not my subject," Mista admitted. "And our project was boring as hell. You put half the class to sleep when you were presenting it."
The bell rang, covering up Leone's retort, and they made their way inside to the first class as Mista and Leone continued to bicker. Bruno did see Fugo sitting in his usual spot in homeroom so that was good, but he looked exhausted, obviously not having caught up on rest over the weekend.
Mista and Leone didn't end up getting assigned together for the project, in fact, Mista got paired with Fugo who didn't react when Mista turned to give him an excited thumb's up.
Bruno was so distracted thinking about his friend that he almost missed that he was assigned Prosciutto as his partner. He glanced over toward the blond who gave him a nod. That was good. Bruno knew from the past that they worked well together and Prosciutto had a bit of perfectionist in him that wouldn't let him leave a project poorly finished. Bruno would need someone like that to keep him from being distracted by everything else going on. He couldn't fail this early in the year. That would be embarrassing.
Fugo actually showed up to lunch that day, though he gave mostly monosyllabic responses to Mista's suggestions for project subjects.
"Who is your partner?" Bruno asked Leone as he sat down.
"Ris." Leone pointed down the table.
"Oh yeah, goth team-up!" Narancia crowed while he took his seat before they both speared him with a glower.
"Maybe we can all get together some afternoon to figure out what we're doing," Mista suggested.
"Sounds good," Bruno said and Prosciutto and Risotto nodded in agreement.
Bruno glanced up as Trish arrived. His eyes darted behind her but unlike usual, he didn't see Giorno anywhere.
"Is Giorno not here today?" he asked after a few more minutes when the blond still hadn't showed up. He had to admit that he was slightly worried that Giorno might have forgotten his lunch money again and didn't want to tell anyone. He had seemed pretty embarrassed about it before.
"No, actually," Narancia said with a frown. "We haven't seen him, so he's either late, or out sick or something."
Bruno frowned.
"Kid looks like he gets sick a lot," Leone said around a mouthful of food.
"I don't blame him; man, I wish I could skip every Monday," Narancia sighed.
"But that would just make Tuesday the new Monday," Mista pointed out.
"No, because it would be Tuesday," Narancia protested.
"But it would be the new day that you have to go back to school," Trish added, taking a bite of fruit. "So the connotation would be the same as Monday."
"Yeah, but you get the thrill of having skipped school for a day," Narancia said with a grin.
Fugo rolled his eyes and stood, taking his mostly untouched tray of food with him. "You never apply any logic to your arguments."
"That's not true," Narancia shot back, pointing a fork at Fugo. "And where are you going? You're not even done yet."
Fugo didn't answer him and continued on his way to dump his unfinished food in the trash can.
"What is up with him?" Narancia muttered, stabbing angrily at his plate.
Bruno watched Fugo leave the cafeteria. "He says he's tired but…"
"Yeah, did you hear him?" Mista pointed out. "Usually he'd be all over nerding out on a project like we're doing but he hardly offered anything. "
"He's apparently picking up extra grading work from other teachers, not just Signore Pisani," Bruno said quietly, remembering what Fugo had said.
"Why?" Leone asked.
"I don't know. I know his parents were pushing him to go for as much extra credit as possible. Probably something to do with that."
"My parents keep reminding me to get As and take as many extra classes as possible too, but I can't imagine they'd want me to waste my time on doing stuff for teachers," Prosciutto commented.
"Yeah, but Fugo could finish these workbooks in a month," Narancia pointed out. "He could actually teach all these classes."
"He kind of does," Trish spoke up. "I'm in the class he's teacher's aide for and sometimes Signori Pisani refers to him about things. Most of the time Fugo just sits in the corner and grades papers, but sometimes Pisani makes him go on, like, long tangents about stuff. He always looks really uncomfortable."
"He doesn't like being the center of attention," Mista pointed out. "But yeah, it's kinda weird, isn't it? And, I mean, Pisani's fine and all, but does anyone else get creeper vibes from him?"
"He just tries to suck up to his class too much," Leone said. "Acts like he's teaching middle school."
Bruno had been silent for the most part, thinking over everything. Every point led him to believe that this is exactly what it looked like, that Fugo was just tired of all the pressures everyone around him was putting on his shoulders—even Narancia, really, feeling like he needed Fugo to help him in order to pass his grades. But something deep inside of him still worried that there was more going on and he promised himself he would keep an eye on all of it.
"How about we all get together tomorrow after school at my place?" Leone suggested to Bruno and the others. "We can get snacks on the way and figure out what we're doing for the projects."
"Sounds good," Mista told him.
Bruno agreed. If Fugo was there, then maybe that would give Bruno a chance to analyze him away from school to see if there was a difference.
However, the next day as they were making plans over lunch, Fugo bowed out.
"I already promised my time this afternoon," he told them.
Mista gave him a pointed look, but sighed. "Well, to be honest, I do have a shift at five, so I'd only be able to stay a little while anyway. You and I will get together some other time this week."
"Of course," Fugo said dismissively, turning back to his food. At least he was eating this time.
Which is more than could be said for Giorno who was, again, absent.
"Giorno's still not here?" Bruno asked.
"Why do you care?" Leone asked.
Bruno shot him a look, then turned back to Narancia who shook his head. "Nope."
"Does anyone have his number?" Trish asked. "I mean, if he's sick and is going to miss a few more days of school then the least we could do is figure out where he lives so we could bring him his assignments so he doesn't get too far behind."
"He didn't give it to me," Narancia said.
"Well, hopefully he'll be back by tomorrow," Bruno said. He didn't need another friend to worry over. He was probably just overreacting about everything considering his worry for Fugo.
There was nothing to do about it other than continue on and figure out what they were going to do for the damned science project.
Later that afternoon after the four of them had gotten to Leone's house after a snack run at the nearest convenience store, Bruno found himself almost dozing off as he sat against the side of Leone's bed.
"Hey. Are you going to help with this or not?"
Prosciutto's heel in the side of his leg brought him back around and he sighed heavily, shoving his bangs back from his forehead. "Sorry."
"You look tired," Risotto commented, reaching for a bag of chips and tossing it to him. "Have some sustenance."
Bruno caught the bag and opened it. "I was up late doing homework last night."
"We didn't even have that much," Leone said.
Bruno shrugged. They hadn't, but it had still taken him way too long to concentrate between his various worries creeping in. Between Fugo and his father already looking increasingly tired with his extra work, Bruno was beginning to feel trapped, unable to help the people he cared about.
"Well, let's figure out what we're doing so you can go home—I have to pick up Pesci from band in an hour anyway," Prosciutto said, checking his watch.
Bruno tried to get his head into gear, refusing to let Prosciutto do all the work on this project. He just wished he could get to the bottom of everything.
Fugo bent over the desk in Signori Pisani's classroom, concentrating on the paper he was reading, red pen in hand, but knowing the man was coming back to the room any minute had him on edge for some reason.
He still felt the imprint of the man's hand on his shoulder like something dirty that he couldn't wash off. It was…ridiculous. Fugo didn't know why he was obsessing over this so much. The man just didn't understand personal space—he didn't understand that you weren't supposed to stare at people either, but some people just didn't have honed social skills. There was nothing wrong with him. He didn't look at Fugo differently than any of the other students.
He still jumped when the door to the classroom opened and the man strode in with a cup of coffee from the lounge and a cup of tea for Fugo. Earl Grey, which was his favorite. Fugo had never told him that, which meant Pisani must have noticed by looking at the teabags Fugo used.
"How is it going?" Pisani asked him.
Fugo was halfway through Formaggio's latest essay and his grammatical mistakes were giving him a headache. "Well…you want me to grade for content, correct?" he asked.
Pisani laughed and bent to set the cup of tea on the desk beside Fugo.
Something scalding hit Fugo's back and he jerked to the side, leaping out of the chair with a barely bitten off curse.
"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry, my boy."
Fugo turned to see Pisani setting his mostly spilled cup of coffee down, reaching into a desk drawer for something to wipe up the mess with.
Fugo could feel anger rising in him as he fought to peel the wet fabric away from his back, wincing slightly at the tender skin underneath.
"I don't seem to have any napkins…how about I go see if I can find some?"
"It's fine," Fugo growled, already moving toward the door. "I'll just go to the restroom."
He hurried out of the classroom and toward the nearest restroom which was at the end of the hall. Being after hours, it was deserted, and Fugo was grateful for that, quickly peeling the shirt off.
He saw the stain of coffee down one half of the shirt and Fugo cursed under his breath. That wasn't really the problem, though, he realized as he turned around to see his back in the mirror and saw that it was bright pink where the coffee had scalded him. Of course he had decided to take his coat off only ten minutes before, otherwise he would have had a little more protection.
Fugo gritted his teeth together. If Pisani didn't have the creepy obsession with bending over him from behind his chair, he wouldn't have spilled coffee on him.
He quickly rinsed out his shirt in the sink before realizing that meant it would be too soaked to wear home.
"Shit," he hissed, looking around the restroom as if he would find a random shirt sitting around.
The door suddenly swung open and Pisani strode in, eyes landing on Fugo and roving over bare skin before seeming to notice his back.
"Oh my, that looks rather painful," he said sympathetically. "I don't think the nurse has gone home yet; perhaps you should let her have a look at it?"
"It's fine," Fugo said, turning away to wring his shirt out as much as he could. He could feel Pisani's eyes on him, boring into his bare skin and it made the object of his attention crawl.
Pisani moved around behind him and Fugo kept an eye on him in the mirror, seeing him raise a hand.
"Perhaps I should fetch a salve at least, scalding burns can be deceptive.
"Don't," he said sharply just as Pisani's fingertips touched the raw patch of skin. He slipped away to grab paper towels.
Pisani cleared his throat. "My apologies. I just wanted to help." He held up a t-shirt. "I brought this from the teacher's lounge. We usually keep some extra clothes in there in case of emergencies."
You could have led with that, Fugo snapped inwardly as he snatched the shirt and tugged it on, ignoring how it scraped across his raw back. "Thank you," he muttered.
Pisani motioned to the shirt still half in the sink. "I can take that home, have it laundered for you."
"Just throw it away," Fugo said, snatching the shirt and tossing it toward the trash can so Pisani couldn't protest, wanting to end this confrontation as quickly as possible. For some reason the idea of this man taking any of his belongings home just didn't sit well.
"If you insist."
"I'll go finish up now," Fugo told him and left the bathroom. He made his way back to the classroom without looking to see if Pisani was following and sat at the desk. He finished the last two papers and then grabbed his coat and bag.
"Will I see you tomorrow afternoon?" Pisani asked him.
"I'm working with Signora Bonucci tomorrow," Fugo said quickly, some relief washing through him. "So, no."
There was something that almost looked like jealousy in Pisani's eyes for a brief moment, but he schooled his expression quickly. "Of course. I forgot you had volunteered for other teachers as well. You really are an admirable young man with quite the work ethic."
Fugo nodded awkwardly and left, choosing to walk home instead of taking the bus or a cab. Nothing about today's interactions set well with him. His back did sting, but for some reason it was less uncomfortable having the shirt rub against the scalded flesh than it was to have Pisani's eyes on it.
But what could he say? Pisani had just been trying to help, after all. Hadn't he? That's what it would sound like to anyone Fugo might explain what happened to. Without seeing the events themselves the description would seem completely mundane and inconsequential. Besides, if he made a fuss it would get back to his parents and then…
He shook his head, not even wanting to imagine that scenario. No. He was just overreacting. He wasn't getting enough sleep. Maybe if he took better care of himself he wouldn't be so paranoid.
Fugo really wanted this year to be over with as soon as possible.
Giorno just barely got himself out of bed in time to leave for school Wednesday morning. His back hurt, and the shirt he chose scraped across it uncomfortably, but he wouldn't have to apply any makeup that day. All the visible marks had faded. There was no reason to skip another day of school.
He trudged slowly, backpack slung over only one shoulder. At least the backpack was new, in no danger of breaking, and he had been given more money for food. He wouldn't have to embarrass himself in front of the others again. If they hadn't just forgotten about him in his absence.
"Hey, I didn't know you lived around here."
Giorno looked up to see Trish joining him at the corner as he stood, waiting for the light to turn.
"You live near here too?" he asked her.
Trish nodded, motioning down the street she had come from. "A couple blocks that way. Where were you the last couple days, by the way? I was gonna bring you your homework, but none of us knew where you lived so…"
"Oh, I was sick," Giorno said with practiced ease. An excuse he'd made on more than one occasion.
"I'm sorry," Trish said.
"It's okay, I'm feeling better now," Giorno told her, adjusting his backpack into a more comfortable position.
"Good," she said with a small smile. "We missed you."
The light turned and Trish started to cross the street. It took Giorno a couple seconds to get going, still shocked to hear that she had missed him. It was possible she wasn't being entirely truthful about it, of course, just wanting to make him feel better, but, maybe…
Giorno hurried to catch up to her and they continued on the walk to school.
"I'm surprised I haven't caught you before, but then, I guess I am usually late," she said, rolling her eyes. "Probably spend too much time on my hair and makeup in the morning." She glanced over at him. "By the way, I've been dying to ask: how do you even get your hair to do that?"
Giorno reached up almost self-consciously toward the curls over his forehead. "Oh, actually, it's just naturally like this."
"Shut up!" Trish cried indignantly. "It looks like you spend hours on it and load it with a ton of product!"
Giorno smiled slightly and shook his head. "No, I don't know why it does that, but that's how it grows. I have to keep it long, though, because if I cut it too short it just looks really weird."
He knew he had gotten his hair from his father—his real father. The only thing he had from him besides the hair was an old photo his mother had given him. Or really, she had thrown it out and Giorno had asked if he could keep it. She never said anything about him sober. Sometimes, when she got drunk she would just say how beautiful he was and a lot of other things that hadn't been fit for a three-year-old to hear, but Giorno couldn't help but wonder sometimes if his father was still out there, and, if he even knew of Giorno's existence. And if he did, if he would ever want to meet him. If he would want to be his father any more than Giovanna did. He didn't really trust his mother's judgement in men.
"You're so lucky, I wish my hair was that easy to work with," Trish muttered. "By the way, so you don't get confused in class…"
Trish spent the rest of the walk filling him in on what they'd done so far this week, including some gossip on the side, and thankfully it didn't sound like Giorno had missed much.
They arrived at homeroom at the last minute, but Narancia greeted them with an excited wave as they entered. Giorno smiled back a little awkwardly. Honestly, it already felt good to be back at school, even if he only had a little time in homeroom to catch up on the last couple days.
At lunch—which he was able to buy himself, thankfully—Mista surprised him as he sat down across from him.
"Hey! You're back, Gio!"
The nickname and the sentiment again surprised Giorno. He didn't know what to say, but Narancia thankfully spoke for him again. "He was actually sick, not skipping, so be nice to him."
Giorno felt slightly bad for lying to them, or rather, withholding the entire truth, but there was no way he could let them know why he had actually skipped school. They wouldn't look at him like this anymore. Maybe it was selfish, but he didn't want to lose this tentative friendship he'd just barely started to get used to.
"I'm glad you're feeling better," Bruno told him with his usual genuine smile.
"Okay, now that Giorno is back, we have a new order of business," Narancia said, pointedly staring at Bruno. "And that is: what are your plans for next Saturday?"
Bruno's smile became a little sheepish and he turned back to his food. "I don't really have any."
"You're joking, right?" Mista demanded.
"Why, what's next Friday?" Trish asked.
"Bruno's birthday!" Narancia announced.
"I'm not gonna do anything big," Bruno warned.
"Okay, but you're turning 18, there's no way we're gonna let you get away with not celebrating," Narancia told him.
"He's right, you're definitely celebrating," Leone told him with a twist of his black lips, nudging him with an elbow. "But you don't have to let Narancia make it an insane party either."
"Aw, come on," Narancia said.
"I was thinking just some cake, gelato, maybe a day at the beach?" Bruno shrugged.
"Sounds good to me," Mista told him.
Bruno's gaze landed on Giorno and Trish. "Both of you should come too," he said. "Really. We have great weather this time of year."
Giorno felt touched that he'd asked but… "I don't know if I'll be able to make it. But thank you for the invitation."
"Hey, if you need a ride, I got you," Mista said. "I have to drive through town to get to Bruno's so, if you meet at the gelato stand we go to after school, we can pick up stuff for Bruno's party and I'll give you a ride."
"I'll take you up on that offer," Narancia said and leaned over toward Giorno and Trish. "Seriously, you should both come. It's gonna be a lot of fun!"
"Thanks, I'd…like to go to the beach," Trish said wistfully. "I haven't had the chance to go since we moved."
"Great! Now that that's settled…" Narancia said, turning to pin Mista with a look. "Second order of business—game night at your house. I know you're not working tonight."
Mista groaned good-naturedly. "Alright, fine, I get the hint! You can come over tonight to play with the GameCube."
"And for dinner," Narancia negotiated.
Mista snorted. "You think my mother is gonna let you come over and not have dinner?"
"Exactly, why do you think I spend so much time at your house?" Narancia grinned.
Mista rolled his eyes before they landed on Giorno and moved to Trish. "Hey, why don't you two come over too? I have four controllers—we can play teams."
"I thought you had like six siblings?" Trish asked hesitantly. "Won't your parents mind?"
"Nah, the more the merrier," Mista told her kindly. "Seriously, my mama makes enough food to feed an army every night so there will be plenty."
"He's not joking. Mama Mista is literally the best," Narancia gushed. "Her food is amazing."
"I can attest," Bruno added, grinning. "You shouldn't pass up the opportunity."
Giorno thought about it for a second. He was afraid of what would happen if he came home late, but then…his mother and stepfather didn't care what he did as long as he wasn't bothering them. They probably wouldn't even notice he was gone. The thought of being anywhere but that house was more than appealing so Giorno turned to Mista with a tentative smile.
"I'd love to come," he said.
"Great!" Mista grinned. "You can come home with me after school then!"