Bruno's days always started with a morning shower and a cup of coffee. No way was better than a shower lit only by the sun barely peeking through the blinds, steam dancing through the rays as hot water ran down his back. Then, coffee with just a hint of milk for that velvet texture, to warm him inside and out. As perfect as that start is, it didn't include (Y/N). Specifically, (Y/N) sitting on his stomach and shaking him awake with the vigor of someone owing her money.
"Bruno, Bruno wake up." In a hushed whisper, her hand tapped his cheek. The weight centering on his gut didn't help, and he moved to try and push it off. She didn't budge, shaking him even harder. It was already a pain having to reach up to stop her hand, even more so to wake up enough to focus. He didn't know how he felt to see her on top of him, bloodshot eyes and hands threateningly close to his neck.
"(Y/N)...? What's going on? Can't breathe..." In a sleepy stupor, he strained to read the time on his alarm clock, something about... four in the morning?! Why in heaven's name is she up! At four in the morning?! She can barely get out of bed at nine!
"Bruno..." It's then when he felt a droplet fall against his cheek, one salty tear after another wetting his skin. They rolled down her cheeks, clinging to her lashes and catching a ray of light from the open door like a shooting star. He noticed the slight tremble in her lips, and then the shake in her voice.
"Hey, hey, what's wrong? You never cry, what's going on?" He sat up, thumbs wiping away the fat tear streaks off her warm cheeks. In moments like these, he forgets that his little angel was still human, with just how precious she feels. "Did someone steal the last toaster strudel or something? Was it Mista?"
"No..." Her voice was barely a whisper now, letting his arms wrap around her in that warm embrace. It's been a while since she got one of his hugs. What was it, the hospital? She almost forgets how comforting they felt. "Just a really, really bad dream."
"Oh? What was your dream? Can you tell me?" His touch was delicate, petting her hair in a soothing manner. The weight at his eyelids yearned for him to return to bed, tugging his head into her shoulder with the lull of the unconscious.
"Dead... You died there." If she hadn't found him under that church, would he have made it? Would Trish? What if he was the one who got cut in half? No one would be able to drag then up, no one could save him and Trish. And then... and then he would be gone. He wouldn't be here, he would be gone forever, and they couldn't even forget to spare them the pain. They would have to live with the fact that he would never return, and she didn't want to do that. She never wanted to feel that. "You died there, and you left us alone, and you left me alone."
Her tears soaked into his t-shirt, words muffled by the fabric as she rambled the implications of something that would never happen. He didn't die, he was still there, wasn't he? Leaning back in the bed, he let her lay comfortably on his chest, rubbing little circles into her back. "(Y/N), I'm not dead. I won't die, okay? How could I when everyone still needs me?"
(Y/N) stayed quiet, the drag of sobs catching up to her, along with her prior sleepiness she discarded in her haste. Over time, her shallow, wavering breaths mellowed, but he didn't let go, pressing a gentle kiss into her temple.
"Do you want to sleep here today?" His voice was less than a whisper, just in case she was asleep, but her slow nod allowed him to shift their position so he could actually breathe and survive the night. Of course, he was a little embarrassed to learn that she would have felt his little good night kiss, but she seemed too tired to remember anything, with how she fell on her side in a deep slumber. Despite the space between them, her hand held onto his, the way she preferred it when she was sick, he remembers.
"Goodnight, little angel."
"I'm still not little..."
Bruno doesn't often change his morning habits, but waking up with her was something he would have liked to keep. He'd rather not wake up at four though.
"Who the hell drew a dick on my face?!" The craze of the morning wormed through the ceiling, barely louder than the chirp of songbirds outside the window. Open wide, crisp morning air filtered through the curtains, billowing with life.
(Y/N) blinked a few times, eyes drawn to the hand clasped in hers, following the limb up and up til they met with a pair of pretty blue eyes. The tousled hair usually so neat, eyes half lidded out of sleep, and down to the tattoo on his chest, every detail just felt too close. Her cheeks aflame, she recalled last night in horrifying detail. "Why do you look in pain."
"I am in so much pain." She reassured, rolling off the bed and scampering out of the room, praying to whatever god was out there that her heart would return to its original pace. Did he notice? Did he see her thoughts? These heart pounding moments came a few times, sure, but not to this degree. She didn't understand, what was this from? Her rampant scampering led her up the stairs to go squeal and die in her room, but perhaps it was her brain on overdrive, she was able to stop moments before Fugo ran past her, covering his cheek and swearing like a sailor. "Watch where you're going!"
"You watch where YOU"RE going!" He snarled, before glancing at her room, then at her. Something clicked in his head, and his anger escalated to seething rage. "It was you, wasn't it!"
"Me what?! I'm just going to my room, what are you yelling at me for?!" (Y/N) crossed her arms, feeling her heart start to settle into place little by little. "I'm tired, get out of my way!"
"Why were you out of your room in the first place, huh?! Putting away the pen you used?!" He blocked her escape, one hand on her arm to prevent her from using Soda City Funk. He was gonna get the answer, and he was going to get REVENGE- "Hey, wait. Were you crying?"
"No! And It's none of your business!" While it was true she was crying that night, it wasn't like she was sad anymore. More just embarrassed, and him pointing out her weakness felt like a worm digging into her ear. She was at least relieved that he could keep his voice down rather than announcing it. Fugo was more empathetic in that regard, unlike the time Narancia loudly announced that she had a bloodspot showing through. "Move, Fugo!"
He let her flick his arm away, trudging a few more steps up the stairs before he pulled her into a tight hug. Just in case. "Sorry, I didn't mean to accuse you."
She faltered in her step, weight safely held under his protective hold. It kind of felt like one of Purple Haze's hugs. As cozy as it was, he acted so awkward about it. Shy eyes avoided her gaze, but over the flush of his cheeks, she found herself staring at the crude squidward nose on his face. No wonder he was so mad. "Your dick is in my face."
Fugo launched backwards, the simple childish flush deepening into a worrying red before he realized she meant the drawing, and then the teasing smile stretched on her lips. He slapped a hand over the marker, coughing out a hasty farewell, before continuing on his path to the bathroom.
Trish clicked her tongue, a black marker resting on her fingertips. "That's what he gets for using my face cream."
I have a horrible habit of needing to only do one project at a time
The delay for this chapter is caused by the incessant need to practice skin tones in painting
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