As soon as Giorno enters he and Fugo's suite, he can feel the air go still. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and he feels Requiem appear, holding onto him and keeping a watchful eye. He would abstain from this behavior, but his body aches with the heaviness that he frequently feels, and the pressure behind his eyes and on him already unbearable. Despite how much he's slept over the past few days, he still can't manage to feel rested. The air is too thick, the chill freezing him to his bones. He struggles to breathe.
As he walks through the doorway, he refuses to let his good posture fail him. He can tell Pannacotta is waiting for him, and if he's lucky, their interaction will be short enough to lay in his own bed and cling to his own pillows. Then he can do whatever he wants, safe underneath his covers where nobody can see him. A piece of him desires to get back to work, as he manages to kick off his shoes, but either the commands of Requiem or his own biology was screaming at him to just be alone. Alone.
A little bit of dread slices through the numbness, and he looks at himself in the mirror attached to the wall near the coat rack. He allows a heavy sigh to escape his lips, trying to fix his hair that has long since escaped out of the braid it was once in. Fugo will say something. He always does. Giorno loves his partner, but he cannot stop the irrational anger that bubbles from within him every time he breaks into the quiet prison of his own solitude.
Gold Experience Requiem balls her fists.
Unfortunately, the path to their bedroom is through the open area and the tiny kitchen, where Fugo undoubtedly resides. He's not sure how long it takes for him to gather the will to force his legs to move, but with a few steps he is in the sight of the other. He tenses, and wills away GER. She will make Fugo uncomfortable, or worse, he will think that something is wrong. Nothing is wrong, anyway. He wishes Fugo would stop overreacting.
Giorno plays with the hem of his suit as his eyes slowly drift up to Fugo.
He's as beautiful as ever, sitting perfectly on the stool, anxiously picking at his cuticles. Giorno should talk to him about that. He could get an infection, or make himself bleed.
"Giorno--" Fugo's eyes are widened and worried, forcing a feeling that Giorno would rather not feel down his spine. He cuts himself off several times before speaking, and the blonde prepares himself. "Can you sit with me for a little while? I've been thinking a lot, and--" Pannacotta stops abruptly. How long has he been staring at him? Pannacotta pushes his hair back, obviously frustrated. His voice sounds strained, like he's on the verge of crying, or has been for a while. "Where were you? I get.. I get worried when you leave like that, Giorno."
Giorno blinks and looks away. He feels guilty, and it makes him angry. How dare Fugo question his judgement. He purses his lips shut and stays quiet, waiting.
"Buccellati said he found you in a tree? How long were you there? The whole day? It was freezing yesterday, you could've..." his voice cracks and his face flushes pink, his blushing splotchy and inconsistent. "Are you okay? We haven't talked in a while. Is it me? I'm really trying, Giorno, I'm trying but you don't talk to me anymore." He sounds heartbroken. Giorno shivers.
"I was just tired, Fugetto..." he looks at Pannacotta's face and watches his lower lip quiver. He's really worried. Giorno wishes he wasn't. This would be so much easier.
Giorno can see Fugo process their discussion. He's extremely cautious, and even more so when he's emotional.
"No. That's what you've said-- so many times before! And I don't want whatever is happening to happen again. I don't." Pannacotta blinks and gulps, standing up. He really is about to cry, isn't he? Giorno panics. He doesn't want this to happen. He can't take it when his partner cries, especially when it's because of him. It's always because of him. Giorno sways.
It's quiet, tense, but then he feels arms wrap around him. Giorno thinks of his mother, and then Buccellati. Pannacotta's hands are shaking hard enough for him to feel it, and Giorno hesitantly wraps his arms around his partner's waist.
Fugo swallows again, and speaks in spurts, nervously. "I love you. I love you, and I know you're hurting and I need you to let me help and tell me what's wrong because I think I'm going to go insane trying to figure out exactly where you're falling apart." Fugo pulls Giorno closer, and something in that desperate grasp breaks him.
Giorno stills, and then buries his face into Pannacotta's chest. He's too tired to try to cry, something he's never quite done, but something he wishes he could when he feels like this.
He allows Pannacotta to hold him for as long as they both need. They need this. He needs this. He needs help, and it hurts, but Fugo is here and he makes everything feel a little less cold.
Giorno isn't happy, but he thinks he's willing to try.
--
NOTE!
Hello! I publish primarily on AO3 now, but I'm going to work on publishing some of my stuff from there here! Thanks a ton!
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A Pearl
FanfictionIt always feels like Giorno starts the fights, when they happen, but he can never remember or figure out how. The growing divide between the boy who didn't have a childhood and the ruthless don he was supposed to be was starting to wear on him and F...
