TW: topics of vomit
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The sun shed it's light on the bright city of Naples, burning anything and anyone it hit. The scorching temperature forcing everyone to stay indoors, trying to cool off. Including the infamous Bucci Gang.
"Why's it so hot outside?" Mista asked, dawdled on the couch. "Am I supposed to know?" Narancia's face was almost kissing the rotating fan, shifting continuously in each direction it faces in order to get most of the wind. "Can you move? You're blocking all the air reaching me." Mista tried pushing away Narancia, who remained implanted in front of the fan. Mista sighed and gave up, laying his head on the couch exasperated.
It wasn't long before Fugo came in, staring at the two boys in front of him. "You guys aren't used to the heat yet?" He asked. "No. Why would we?" Narancia replied as he turned away from the fan for once, a small shock towards Mista as he felt the frigid breeze hit his face. "Well, better get used to it. The Weather Report is stating that the temperature might get even higher." The duo sighed, devastated. At least they had a fan.
"Hey... it smells like puke in here." Mista said as he stared into the ceiling, hands over his chest intertwined. "Puke? What the heck is that?" Narancia asked, turning away from Fugo and towards Mista. "Bro. The thing that comes out of your mouth when you're not feeling good." Narancia cringed at the gross explanation, but he was right.
"It's not puke. It's called bile. That's obvious." Narancia faced the fan again. "No! You idiot! Bile is a digestive juice secreted by the liver that has a role in emulsifying lipids and turning the acidic intestinal medium basic! So actually, it's vomit!" Fugo uttered, almost hitting Narancia. Narancia stared at Fugo, shooting him a look of confusion. "What... the fuck did you just say?" "Dumbass." Fugo whispered, forgetting that not everyone is the remarkable prodigy he is. "You're the dumbass. It's clearly puke." Mista ignored whatever Fugo had already said, as his expression clearly showed that he was fueled with frustration. "Listen. It's vomit. End of discussion." "Sorry nerd. We ain't listening to you. It's puke." Mista said as he fist bumped Narancia, both grinning widely. "Fuck you." Fugo told them.
"Whatever. Let's just focus on this room's disgusting odor. Who didn't shower today?" Mista asked. However, instead of receiving an answer, he got several glares from the people around him. "What am I, the fucking problem!?" Mista yelled as he sat up straight, staring back at the boys. "Well, clearly you are!" Fugo yelled back. Mista knew that he had a reputation of posessing... bad hygiene. "When was the last time you even took a shower? 2 days ago? 5 days ago!?" "Hmm... I think around... 2 weeks ago." The pair's eyes widened, jaws parting. "The fuck are you waiting for!? Go take one!" "Okay! Okay! Stop yelling..." Mista rushed towards his room in order to prepare himself. "The fuck is wrong with him..." Fugo sighed. Narancia was still facing the fan, a smile as wide as his face. "Stop hogging the fan." "No."
"... Bastard." Fugo sat down where Mista was previously seated. "His seat smells like vomit too." Narancia looked at Fugo. "Bile." He grinned.
Let's just say that this is the second time Narancia got stabbed with a fork.
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I just posted this cz it was hanging out in my notes for too long
originally posted on ao3
