#I just wanted to demonstrate narancia being a very protective friend

[wxnnabe]

number 6 w narancia Mayhaps?

@ narancia is best friend, what a tip top friend good on ya mum

You once drew comfort in the trio often sat in the park on a bench or lounging on a picnic rug. After a frustrating day of school, you would pass by the trio of misfits often-when you first saw them, you recognised them almost straight away-the mafioso of Passione, at least in the neighbourhood you resided in, were treated with respect. Bruno Buccellati was, after all, a good man, and his actions followed his name like a trail of evidence to that claim. You would only have to ask around a bit to know half of the ways he would go above and beyond for the rest of the community, and it was hard to admit that he was actually and probably very capable of murder. The trio here were amongst his little rag tag team-you would see them fleetingly, around about the city.

But you managed to notice them parked next to the water fountain first when you heard a commotion happening as you turned to the very opening coming home from school one evening. Two of the boys were tackling each other, pens and books flying. It seemed like any attempts at a peaceful picnic were lost, and you couldn’t help but think this wasn’t the first time as the third one had sat back and complained for them to knock it off. You felt something hit your leg, and as you bent down you found a pen-probably from all the fighting happening almost right in front of you. You picked it up, and for a brief moment glanced at the fight unfurling in front of you.

As luck would have it, your eyes caught on a book that was thrown onto the edge of a plate, smashing the plate and propelling some of the shards to your crouched figure. The bits of broken china and food on the plate were flying right at you, aimed for your face. Your hands flew up to protect yourself, and you barely managed to protect your face from the flying pieces of cake and fine china debris. Finally, the two stopped fighting to the crash of the plate and the scuffle and a muttered curse as you struggled to find your footing with a searing pain that was now throbbing through your arm. There was a sudden silence as their friend flew into action, calmly walking toward you.

“Ah, now look what you’ve done!” He calls out to them, and the two break apart, the blond one straightening up his bizarre suit. The other huffed slightly, but peered over to what had gotten his friend so worked up. You looked to the man looming in front of you. He was equally dressed in an insane get-up that you would have laughed at if not for your current situation. He gave you a wary once over, and you realised that you were still holding onto the pen in your hand. Words tumbled out of you in a stammer as your brain tried to keep up with what was happening.

“S-sorry I just, thought this was yours and I was gonna slide it back to you-” The one with the bandanna cut you off, pointing to your left hand.

“Hey, you’re bleeding!” He looked mildly concerned, though you could still see the cautious look from his friend in his eyes. Your eyes glanced from his to the man in front of you, to your hand as you bent it over to have a proper look where the throbbing was coming from. Sure enough, a piece of the plate had wedged itself into your arm, blood trickling down from your elbow. You blinked as a drop trickled down from the wound to the tip of your elbow. You let out a small mutter of “ouch” before extending your arm slightly as the blood dripped onto the pavement. The boy in front of you held your hand, and tilted your arm slightly to get a better look.

“Tsk…hey, at least next time watch out for your surroundings, you two!” The boy who was crouched next to you flashed you a warm smile.

“You’re in good hands, honey!”

You later learnt of their names. Guido Mista, the one who would playfully flirt with pretty girls and trembled at the sight of anything in pairs of fours. Pannacotta Fugo, one of the boys fighting, was smart and kind, but you learnt quickly not to tease his temper. And the last, Narancia Ghirga, he one who called out to you; he was energetic, and loud-but their was a fierce loyalty and trust that he gave to his friends you almost envied.

Often times, one of the others from the gang would tag along with them. Abbacchio and Giorno were nice, but reserved. Fugo explained they were often there so your little group wouldn’t turn into a four.You’d like to say that you were friends with them, but Fugo would deny it.

“You don’t want to be friends with us. You don’t want anything to do with us, if you can help it,” It frustrated him, when you hung out with them, but he eventually got used to it. Mista seemed indifferent to you; you had your suspicions he was simply acting cool, though, because he’d be all over you the moment you offered to shout them a pizza. Narancia did warm up to you, and would now welcome you every time you turned through the park. You would chat with the three casually, and Narancia would quiz you on school and your assignments. He seemed to pale as you described the multitude of your work, and Fugo would hastily change the subject. Narancia confided in you later on that he had dropped out very young, and was trying to study to finish his schooling.

“That’s really amazing, Narancia! If you ever need any help, just ask yeah?” You were sat cross legged next to Narancia, with Fugo chatting with Giorno about the book he was reading next to him and Mista off buying a pizza, losing some bet the group were haggling over before you came by.

“Yeah, I guess…studying’s a pain in the ass, so thanks for offering,” He grumbles, and you laugh.

“If it wasn’t difficult, it wouldn’t be worth doing right?” He gave you a mischievous grin.

“Right. Oh, and who are you again? Some kind of old wise master?” You were about to playfully smack him when Mista slides some pizza boxes down and plonks himself down with a loud sigh.

“Man, can we wait ‘til there’s five of us to start makin’ bets?” Narancia gives him a smug grin as his mouth is already stuffed with a slice of pizza.

“But then we won’t be able to exploit you and your phobia!” Mista looks about ready to cause a scene, but Giorno cuts in between the two and opens another box.

“It’s not like your short on cash,” Mista takes another slice, and sighs again, his tone pointed to the boy next to you as he speaks up.

“I just don’t like watching my money drain to a rigged bet, that’s all,” Narancia picks up on this, and leans back to catch Mista’s eyes.

“Oi, we didn’t rig it at all! Your just obsessing over nothing is all!” Mista stands to this, his slice long forgotten.

“Hey, don’t make me go over this again! I’m serious, four really is bad news!” While the two bickered on, Giorno had turned to you with a curious look.

“Why are you always here?” Despite how it was posed, his tone and expression didn’t look malicious. And though he had asked you with a serene smile, you could see he wanted an answer that satisfied the question. You pondered for a while. Surely you knew that they were dangerous? If the wrong person saw you hanging out with them, they could get the wrong idea about you…or, even worse, what you meant to them. Being kidnapped and held for ransom wasn’t exactly on your bucket list.

“Well…I mean I guess you guys are like my friends, right?” You considered them close. Narancia especially. For some reason, the two of you just clicked, and a couple of times he would even walk you home from school, just to get some time in to vent or ask you about your day. You’d gotten pretty adept to calming him down from his outbursts, and you’d like to say he’s made you a bit more confident to just have fun. You really did look forward to hanging out with them.

“Have you ever taken any thought to if you got hurt because of that?” Fugo snaps at you, but his eyes betray his worry. You note that he doesn’t shoot down the prospect of ‘friends’ with some relief.

“No one’s going to hurt you,” Narancia startles you, jumping into the conversation.His attention turned away from Mista, he’s now looking directly at you with a deadly serious tone in his voice. In your peripheral, you can see Giorno smiling, though you can’t bring yourself to break eye contact with those violet eyes. He looks dead serious.

“Sorry?” Your still reeling from that statement, No one’s going to hurt you. How on earth could he be so sure?

“I said, no one’s going to hurt you. No one will hurt you, not on my watch!” He gives you a grin, and suddenly he’s back to his normal self again. He takes a playful bite out of the slice of pizza in your hands, and with a “Hey!” he laughs, and the dark mood from the conversation is long forgotten.