fugo - soothing the chords

508 13 1

Author's note! The reader is male in this!

You and Fugo, when it came to terms of knowledge, were the smartest teenagers of the group. Fugo had his extensive IQ and almost dictionary knowledge of math, history and language, while you specialized in the arts. Sculpting, painting, violin, harp, piano, the world of visual beauty was not unfamiliar to your familiar hands and trained ears. Your knowledge wasn't as useful as Fugo's, yes, but your history with creativity was what had taught you to be patient and quick, to be able to pick certain sounds from the rest, which was useful when it came to voices.

Seeing that you two were so impressive in your fields, it made sense you two got along quite well. When you wanted to know more about a specific country's history of arts, you would turn to Fugo. When Fugo was irritated and about to snap, he would turn to your violin and piano. With just a few well placed strums across the strings, calming melodies and soothing sounds would encase him, drifting his anger away.

Your Stand was in tune with your talents, as fate would have it. 「 BOSSA NOVA BABY 」's appearance was of a white base, splattered in what seemed to be blue, green and yellow paint, with various music notes, scores and clefs decorating it, like the delicate trims of embroidery. It's eyes were a deep blue, and instead of two arms, it had six, all connected at the shoulders. Many times, you had conducted your own orchestras, painted galleries and sculpted life like sculptures all from the assistance of your Stand. To normal people, without Stands, it would appear that you were like a god of art, a diligent worker, or maybe Hephaestus reincarnated.

Regardless of what the civilians thought, it didn't matter. All that mattered to you were four things: the gang, your performance, work and the few you called your friends. Bruno was one of your confidants, someone you would confess anything to. He had both the fatherly sternness and motherly care for you, which confused you, but nonetheless made you feel welcome. Safe, even. It felt nice to have someone be like your parental figure, even if he wasn't that much older than you. You sometimes found it funny when Bruno scolded Narancia and Mista for doing something dumb, which wasn't uncommon, just like how a parent would.

Giorno was definitely an odd one, but you enjoyed his presence too. He was quick and calculated, but also coy and smooth. He liked to tease you by turning your paintbrush into a butterfly, or bow into a small frog. He always changed them back, which was something you were glad for. Those paintbrushes and bows were not inexpensive, and you couldn't go out and buy them all the time, that would be a heavy price in your paycheck. Other than transforming your tools of art into butterflies, Giorno was surprisingly a very good pool player, and you two would often play a game, with Giorno winning most of the time. It was always by just a hair, but it was still fun regardless.

Then there was Fugo. He was probably your best friend in all of Passione, almost as close as Bruno. You had shared nearly everything with him. Your past of being raised into a virtuoso when you were young, and only ever extorted for money from your parents because of your incredible talents and fortune you earned through concerts and selling your works. Fugo's past of being a child genius, and never feeling the love from his parents either, always studying, constantly studying. You two greatly sympathized with each other, seeing how similar your backstories were. Not only that, but you were a much more tame way of releasing his anger. Narancia wasn't always available to be stabbed with a fork, so your music was the next option.

Fugo, and most of Italy, had always fondly remarked on your abilities, but his words felt different. From the words of civilians, they were simply fans, admirers, schmoozers, business men who wanted your fortunes again. But from Fugo, he was your equal, your ally, your friend. And maybe that's why your heart always skipped a beat when he said the kind words about your performances, why your usually stoic face would tint the slightest bit of red in your cheeks, or why your smiles felt so much warmer after hearing his words. You didn't know why you felt this way, though. You were always told to grow up and marry a nice young woman, but your heart didn't want to marry a woman. It didn't want to marry at all for that matter, you were still young. These feelings confused you, and you wanted to figure them out.

jojo's bizarre adventure oneshots!Where stories live. Discover now