the roost - pannacotta fugo

II

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

You make a weird grunting and moaning noise before you stumble out of your seat. You fumble to take out the money and tip for Bartolo, turning around once he heard you abruptly get up.

The look on Fugo's face was enough to give you nightmares. Not out of fear, but out of pure and utter embarrassment.

Normally, you had the confidence to flirt with somebody. Compliments here and there, showing a smile before starting to say ridiculously sweet things that made the other party flustered. Say some stuff that will make them feel special and bam, already wrapped around your pinky. You were usually the lead, as you had multiple partners before. Though they weren't serious or lasted long. Making somebody feel special doesn't guarantee any kind of healthy relationship. At least if it's the sole purpose they're with you. Normally it wasn't returned, the other basking in your praise and compliments. With that kind of experience, you had the grasp of basic flirting.

But that, it was horrible. How could you have downgraded from being a heartthrob to a flustered schoolgirl? Well, you doubt that a school girl would say a line as lame as that one.

I'm in love with your music? Give me a break, how lame could I have been?

You might have been being a little dramatic, it couldn't be helped though. Fumbling and messing up in your crush's presence is like the end of the world for a teen.

Back to Fugo's face, he didn't seem angry or upset at your words. Why would he be? He received a compliment from an attractive person. He was very confused though. What does being in love with my music even mean? Fugo thought as he raises an eyebrow at the thought.

"No wait, please,—"

"AHHHH I GOTTA GO! SORRY—"

Great, now I need to find a new café...

You thought in a fit of panic, your hands on your red hot face as you force the door open, leaving it swinging behind you as several pairs of eyes stay glued onto your form.

Fugo watches you scramble out of the door, a sigh leaving his lips.

"Wow, that guy was strange..." Narancia says, tilting as he watches you run away through the glass of the building.

"Wow Fugo, I had no idea you could pull in dude... Come to think of it he was kinda cute..."

"Don't be weird Mista, that kid looked like he was 16 or younger," Abbacchio states in a warning tone, his finger flicking the back of the said male's head. "We're in the Mafia but that doesn't mean you can be a creep."

"Relax, I wasn't gonna hit on him anyway. Plus I would never steal one of my buddy's boyfriends—"

"What are you even saying? He just said he loved my music." Fugo's tone was filled with irritation at Mista's excuse, only to receive a snicker from Narancia. "And what might you be laughing at?"

"You're really smart Fugo but you can be so oblivious!" Narancia says in between laughs, holding his tummy as his abdomen starts to get sore at how hard he was laughing. Which he inevitably regretted, feeling him yanked out of his chair by the taller male.

"Will you shut up?!"

Bartolo could only watch the group. He wasn't exactly annoyed but didn't enjoy the fact that they were being this loud. There weren't any other customers so he didn't decide to shut them up. Being as perceptive as he was, Bucciarati notices the displeasure of the barista.

"Enough, all of you!" Bucciarati yells, causing Fugo to stop shaking Narancia as his and Mista's laughter dies down. "Let's just move along with our day. This is Fugo's business to deal with. Leave him alone and let's all enjoy our coffee." Bucciarati wasn't surprised at the fact that Fugo had an admirer. When he wasn't angry, he could be as charming as a prince. Being multi-talented was a plus for him. Despite his parental composure, he decides not to give Fugo any advice. If he needed help, he would ask. That was just the way Fugo was.