═ ☆. TRISH REPLIED TO Y/N'S request for Stand assistance with the address to a set of expensive condominiums a few minutes from Sapiena's campus.
It's only a five-minute walk from the dorms, but let me know if you get lost, Trish texted.
(Y/n) immediately felt out of their element when they arrived. Grey and white stone paved the large path leading to the entrance, and (y/n) could spot several high-class vehicles idling outside. The lobby was polished and classy, with minimalistic decor and tiny bright lights overhead. It was a far cry from the mundane apartment they'd met Scolippi in.
(Y/n) discreetly adjusted their appearance in the elevator mirrors. They hadn't even seen Trish's condo yet, and the building already intimidated them. They couldn't imagine anyone comfortably living in such an ostentatious building. But the residents were probably used to it, seeing it every day.
The elevator ascended so smoothly that (y/n) barely noticed when it stopped. (Y/n) found Trish's door number, but it opened before they could knock, leaving their hand hovering dumbly in the air.
"How are you doing?" Trish air-kissed (y/n)'s cheeks. "I'm so glad you're here. It was going to be such a slow afternoon." Trish was wearing a cute blue sweater and shorts set. The soft colour made her pink hair even brighter. She'd taken off her makeup, and she looked younger without it.
Stepping into Trish's condo was like stepping into a furniture catalogue. The furniture was pretty but practical. Natural light poured into every room, dust motes swirling gently. (Y/n) was drawn to the various frames hanging on the wall in the living room. In one of the pictures, Trish looked to be about seven. She looked like she was on stage for a recital, wearing an adorable yellow dress. There was a boy on either side of her, one of them instantly recognizable as Fugo, the other with dark hair and a solemn face.
"Guess who that is." Trish tapped the dark-haired boy.
(Y/n) peered closer. There was something about his green eyes that seemed familiar.
"That can't be Giorno."
"It is," Trish said. "It wasn't until he gained his Stand that his hair went blond. He looks so gloomy, doesn't he?"
(Y/n)'s eyes went to a different picture, this one of Trish sitting on the shoulders of a man in sunglasses. With his bright pink hair, he must've been Trish's father, the elusive chancellor of Sapiena. They couldn't make out his features behind his sunglasses, but Trish must've taken after him since she didn't resemble the brown-haired woman also standing in the picture.
"Mom and dad," Trish said, confirming (y/n)'s thoughts. "My dad bought this condo for my mom when I was born, and they've been living separately ever since. They're still married, but they're just better apart."
"I guess you and your dad aren't that close, then?"
"My tuition is half what it's supposed to be. That counts for something." Trish sounded detached, as though she'd gotten used to her dad not being around.
"It's been ages since I've seen him," Trish murmured. She stared at the picture for a moment before going to open the sliding glass door to the balcony. "Come out here. Look how nice it is."
Set outside was a circular table and chairs flanked by a pair of flower pots. The balcony opened onto the condominium's shared courtyard, deliciously warm from the sun. Looking down, (y/n) admired the tiled fountain and manicured lawns.
Trish pulled out a chair for (y/n). "Mista texted that your mission on Scolippi was a success. He also said that your Stand saved his ass."
(Y/n) shrugged. "I don't think he would've died even if I hadn't been there. Dealing with Scolippi was the complete opposite of what I'd been expecting. I don't think the florist knew what his daughter was getting into."
"Mista also mentioned you met someone else at the apartment? Someone with white hair?"
"Some guy named Abbacchio. He might've been a cop, but I'm not sure. He just asked us to work with him out of nowhere." (Y/n) showed Trish the card.
"Doesn't sound like a cop," Trish said. "The name doesn't ring a bell either. If he said he's a Stand user, I'd say it's worth it to see what he has to say. He might end up helping us out."
Those were (y/n)'s thoughts exactly. Abbacchio didn't seem bad, strange as he was.
"If there's a way to control my Stand better, I'd love to learn," (y/n) said. From here, they would be able to bring up the topic of Fugo.
"With how individualistic Stands are, it's hard to figure out one thing that would make you control it better. The more confident you are with yourself, the easier your Stand ability will come to you."
So they were looking at self-confidence now? Trish laughed at the expression on (y/n)'s face.
"We can deal with that later. Why don't you just try summoning your Stand?"
(Y/n) told themself to relax. Calling on the shimmery fabric was noticeably easier this time around. Slowly, (y/n)'s Stand settled around them, draping over the balcony and trailing on the ground. Wonder softened Trish's face as the fabric drifted around her body, not quite touching her.
"It's amazing," she breathed. "You must have a beautiful soul."
With the way their Stand caught the light, (y/n) almost believed Trish.
"You Stand isn't randomly spread out," Trish said, following the fabric's path on the ground. "It's gathered around the two of us and the flower pots."
"Why is it doing that?"
"I'm thinking that your Stand is attracted to living things. Look, the part of your Stand going over the balcony is even trying to reach the trees."
If Trish was right, that explained why (y/n)'s Stand had bunched around the wall that Risotto was behind.
"I think it's attracted to Stand energy too. On the elevator, I was able to tell where Scolippi's Rolling Stones was."
"It sounds to me like your Stand only appears when something big happens—when there's a great need for it."
(Y/n) nodded. "It's harder to bring out when there isn't pressure."
"It makes sense. It's at times like that your will becomes stronger. Your body consciously wants to take action. Stand up. I want to try something."
Trish got up from her seat and moved to the balcony railing. Warily, (y/n) came up beside her.
"Try not to freak out," Trish said. She closed her eyes, and the air next to her shimmered. In the next moment, a pale pink humanoid appeared. It blinked its bright green eyes at (y/n), its body lithe and graceful.
"It's nice to meet you." The voice of Trish's Stand was melodic, just like Black Sabbath's had been.
"This is my Stand, Spice Girl," Trish said, smiling at it. "Gorgeous, isn't it?"
Spice Girl was the perfect manifestation of Trish's soul. The grid-pattern slip dress and high-heel shoes were all Trish. Bold and feminine and badass, all in one. But (y/n) did have to wonder what the various mathematical signs on it meant.
"If you would?" Trish waved a hand over the balcony. Spice Girl wrapped its fist around it, and it took (y/n) a second to understand why the railing was warping so unnaturally.
"You're softening it."
"That's Spice Girl's ability," Trish affirmed. "It can take anything and make it as soft and malleable as rubber. Amazing, huh?"
The railing drooped from its rigid position, and Trish stepped neatly over. "Be careful," Spice Girl said sternly. Trish only shrugged as she withdrew her Stand.
"Alright, since your Stand performs better under pressure, let's create some pressure. I'm going to count to three and fall backwards. You're going to catch me with your Stand before I hit the ground."
(Y/n) balked. "That's what you're doing? But—"
"No one's in the courtyard right now," Trish interrupted, looking over her shoulder. "And if you don't manage to catch me, Spice Girl will soften the ground where I fall." She put a hand over her mouth. "Oops. There goes the pressure."
Stand or not, it was a long way down to the courtyard from up here. Catching Mista had been instinctive, but (y/n) wasn't sure if they could do it again. Their Stand drifting around them suddenly felt flimsy and unreliable.
"Hey." Trish brought a piece of (y/n)'s Stand over and draped it over (y/n) like a scarf. It was warm and comforting. "I believe in you. You've got this." Her green eyes were bright with excitement. She leaned in close, and (y/n)'s heart sped up.
"Besides, I'm a lot lighter than Mista."
(Y/n) laughed. Trish tapped their nose lightly.
"Here we go then. On three. Uno—"
Trish pitched backwards. (Y/n)'s stomach swooped. To their surprise, (y/n)'s Stand shot forward, weaving together and becoming a larger rectangle of fabric. Instead of becoming a hammock, (y/n)'s mouth fell open as it dove under Trish, buoying her up.
It's like Aladdin's magic carpet.
Trish whooped. "You're such a liar, (y/n)! You can control your Stand just fine!"
"I didn't plan this!"
(Y/n)'s Stand carpet raised Trish until she was level with the balcony.
"Get on. Let's see what else you can do."
(Y/n) eyed the fabric dubiously. "I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Give yourself some credit. This material is soft, but it supports my weight easily. I saw the way it cut Bruno the other day on the rooftop too."
The surface of their Stand carpet was stretchy and bouncy, like a trampoline. (Y/n) gripped the edge of it, stiffening when Trish looped her arms around (y/n)'s middle.
Move forward a little; to the other side of the courtyard.
(Y/n)'s Stand followed their instructions. (Y/n) and Trish glided along gently through the air. (Y/n) banked for a turn, and that worked too.
"Do you have a name for your Stand?" Trish's voice was right by (y/n)'s ear.
"That's been the last thing on my mind. Would something like Death Cloth work?"
"Oh, come on, give it some more thought. The name of your Stand should come to you naturally. Like it wants to be called something."
"I don't know about that..." (y/n) trailed off. Something tickled (y/n)'s mind. (Y/n) murmured it under their breath.
"What was that?"
"White Satin," (y/n) said louder. As they did, their Stand rippled.
"I think that's its name."
"Be more confident! It's your Stand."
White Satin. Saying it felt surprisingly right somehow. (Y/n)'s Stand wrapped a strip around their hand as though it were squeezing it. (Y/n) guided them back up to the balcony, and White Satin dissipated as they slid off.
"Knowing the name of your Stand makes it seem more connected, doesn't it?"
It did. (Y/n)'s Stand felt closer at hand. They could feel it buzzing underneath their skin.
"Trish, controlling my Stand wasn't the only reason I came over."
"Oh?"
(Y/n) didn't know why they were deciding to tell the truth instead of the subtle prodding they'd been planning. Something seemed different between the two of them now. Maybe it didn't feel right when Trish had been so willing to help them.
"Fugo told me about what happened when you first flicked on the lighter. He's terrified of his Stand and holds it against you guys for forcing it on him. He said you don't care about what happens to people who face Black Sabbath."
Trish sat back in her seat and was quiet for a long moment. "Fugo's always been quiet. He always went along with whatever Giorno and I were doing. I think the lighter was the first time he was really forceful about something. We still didn't listen to him, though."
"I think that if you told him what it is you and Giorno are doing, there's a chance he'd join you guys. You could fix your friendship."
Trish huffed a laugh. "I'd hate us too if I were Fugo. We were such assholes back then. Still are."
Trish's candour surprised (y/n). "I think you're all just scared of making it worse."
"But leaving things the way they are made it worse," Trish murmured. She rested her chin on her hand. "Honestly, I miss Fugo. He was quiet, but when you actually listened to him...."
"So talk to him. I can give you his number. He's angry, but I think he wants to talk to you too. If it's going according to plan, Narancia should've convinced Giorno to do the same."
"Sly, sly," Trish said with a small smile. "You had ulterior motives this entire time."
"Don't we all?"
Trish looked out over the balcony. It was quiet as (y/n) gave her time to think.
"Give me his number," she said finally. "It's about damn time."
‣ ♡. ⁀
Trish walked (y/n) back to their dorm. By the end of the short walk, (y/n) found out that Trish loved crab, drank Perrier more than she did regular water, and never left the house without a coat of Givenchy lipstick. (Y/n) was surprised at how much they enjoyed learning these tiny details about Trish. They made her seem less exclusive.
They stopped at the intersection before Sapiena."Grazie, (y/n). I enjoyed your little visit."
"So did I. I managed to check off everything on my ulterior motives list."
Instead of her usual air kiss, when Trish leaned in, she lightly kissed the corner of (y/n)'s mouth. An electric jolt went through them, their skin tingling.
"We should do this again," Trish said and almost sounded shy. She smiled and began walking away.
"Trish!"
The pink-haired girl looked over her shoulder.
"I like you better when you're like this. When you actually act like a college student instead of some foreign goddess."
(Y/n) was afraid Trish would snap at them. Instead, she nodded.
"I like myself better when I'm like this too. You're one of the few people I can be myself with," Trish chuckled, seeming to realize what she'd just said. "But of course, I must just be saying that."
(Y/n) was thankful Trish left before she could notice the tiny piece of White Satin that trailed like fairy dust after her.
‣ ♡. ⁀