ic inbox ( ǣfenglōm )

[digiorno]

"buongiorno! sorry i missed you; i'll happily get back to you as soon as i'm done with whatever business i'm on. leave a message!" ⯈ text ⯈ voice ⯈ video ⯈ action

Comments

[unholey]

[In this moment, the Bond between them is a mirror. Their chests ache with the same pain, born from two different pits of loneliness: they are both startled by how the other does not pull away.]

[Between one moment and the next, amidst the warmth of Giorno's gladness and relief, Giorno wraps his arms around Fugo's torso and pulls him close. It's less of an embrace and more of an awkward tangle of limbs, because Fugo isn't sure where to put his own arms at first; it doesn't occur to him to hug back for an awkward few seconds. It's not until Giorno rests his forehead on his shoulder does he realize that, oh, it's alright to hug back.

That Giorno would probably like it, if he hugged him back.]

[So he does. He repositions his arms around Giorno twice, trying and failing to find a more natural way to reciprocate, but in the end he applies gentle pressure around his back.]

Like this? [Probably a stupid question. The prevailing emotion he's getting through the Bond is just-- contentment. Giorno is glad to be close, even if it's awkward.]

[digiorno]

[Giorno does like it when he gets a hug back. So much so that he really doesn't need to say anything, probably; the ripple of joy through the Bond is simple and clear, the emotional equivalent of sunlight shining off a dozen bright surfaces at once. He didn't mind the shuffling, the awkwardness, but once Fugo is actually embracing him everything seems right. Easier to understand, too. Nothing is nearly as complicated as either of them made it out to be.]

Mm, [he affirms, a soft hum of delight against Fugo's shoulder as he recognizes the security of their reflected Bond — that he doesn't have to worry he's doing something wrong, because Fugo would let him know, or he would let Fugo know. They don't have anything to fear from each other now — that's what he thinks, in this moment.]

[That and, a breath later: it could be more comfortable, couldn't it? With a contemplative noise, he leans back and looks at Fugo. They're very close. He can see each of Fugo's pale eyelashes and the slight flush across the bridge of his nose.]

[Not close enough. He smiles, faint and guileless, and tips himself backwards into the pile of blankets, pulling Fugo with him without a hint of regret.]

[unholey]

[Fugo doesn't know what Giorno is thinking. The Bond doesn't work like that. What he does have insight into is what he's feeling: happy and confident, certain in his belief that everything is as it should be. Maybe if he could read Giorno's thoughts, he would have put a stop to what happens next.

Or maybe not. Giorno is very impulsive. And it happens pretty quickly.]

[Giorno pulls up and stares at him; his smile is subtle, easier to read in the crinkled corners of his eyes than his mouth. Even without the Bond, Fugo can see just how glad Giorno is. He thinks to himself-- What is he looking at?-- and then, before he has a chance to voice the question, Giorno tugs them both down.

A decision that he, obviously, did not think through very well. Fugo tenses and startles as he loses his balance and topples forward towards Giorno. It's not very far; he has no room to catch himself. Their foreheads smack together with a distinct clonk, prompting a sharp stream of curses out of Fugo's mouth that he would under ordinary circumstances he never would direct towards Giorno. It's all very smooth. They're doing great.]

[digiorno]

[This was a mistake.]

[Or maybe it wasn't. Even as his eyes widen in realization at the inevitable; even as their foreheads clonk together, sparking a sharp pain in his forehead—] Ow! [—there's no real negative emotion there. Hardly any shock, either, beyond a short moment of startle.]

[What happens next is that Fugo swears. A lot. Truly majestically. He's only ever heard such language from Fugo once or twice, back when they barely knew each other. His eyes widen in awe for a moment. He is . . . impressed.]

[But after a few more seconds of this apparently inexhaustible series of curses, he has to press his lips together to keep from laughing. And a few seconds more leaves him unable to contain it. There's a rush of air through his pursed lips that quickly dissolves into full-body hysterical giggling. He shakes under Fugo with laughter that he doesn't even bother trying to hide, one hand clutched in the back of Fugo's shirt to keep him from getting away. Just in case.]

[This is fun, he's pretty sure.]