*** HARMONIA has joined 710.35.155.17 <HARMONIA> Buongiorno, sorry I missed you. <HARMONIA> I'll happily get back to you as soon as I'm done with whatever business I'm on. <HARMONIA> Please leave a message.
[Mista didn't often tell him what to do, not even as gently as this. Unless they were in a combat situation, Mista really wasn't one to give directives at all. Which meant that when he did, they were serious. The combination of warm hands on his face and soft encouragement to calm down, to breathe, cut through his panic immediately, frantic quests going quiet as he stared up at Mista, waiting, afraid but trusting as always.]
[Of course Mista didn't know the answer or have a solution. That was fine; he hadn't expected that kind of miracle. But Mista was certain of a few things, while Giorno was certain of a few more. There was the flicker once again of the old certainty that no matter what, they'd be able to figure it out if they worked on it together. They were always better together.]
[Which just made his heart twinge, considering. It might have been my fault with the gifts, Mista said, and he wanted to say something about it, but then Mista was pulling him close and holding him tight and — what could he possibly do in the face of that but wrap his arms around Mista's waist in turn? Burying his face against Mista's neck, he shuddered, eyes squeezing shut to push out the first implications of tears. He couldn't do that, not now. Not in the middle of something as dangerous and strange as this.]
. . . You didn't do this.
[Muffled, but firm. After a moment, he lifted his head to rest his chin on Mista's shoulder, glaring daggers at the opposite wall.]
I refuse to accept the idea that — that you doing something thoughtful and— [And? There were more words, he'd gone through them all before he slept, but now they were scrambling away from him and he couldn't find the right way to explain himself. How something that had made him so happy couldn't possibly have hurt them this way. The carefully-arranged display of Mista's gifts still rested on his bookshelves, staring accusatory down at him.]
That can't have caused anything like this to happen. It just can't. It's something else.
[ He had just as much trouble accepting that he hadn't pushed this along, that his caring gesture had caused them this grief in some way. He rested one of his hands on the back of Giorno's head, brow furrowed with concern as he stared intensely at his copy. That's exactly what he (it?) was, the same down to the last detail and it was uncanny.
That wasn't a strong enough word and he knew it, terrifying or disconcerting might have been a little closer to that feeling that spread through his stomach again. There were more important things for them to focus on, his heart thudding in his chest as he stroked the back of Giorno's head to keep soothing him. ]
...I'm glad you like them, I was afraid that it was too much but...it was something important to me.
[ Now really wasn't the time for this, for a heartfelt moment amidst the real danger of the situation. He needed to think, try and figure out what had been different, what else had happened before he'd been overtaken by that skull ripping headache. ]
Is there anything else you can think of? Anything at all?
[ The candy was the farthest thing from his mind, it had been so innocuous that he wouldn't have considered it at all. Something like this...it was bigger than that. ]
[The really irrational thing was that, despite the danger, all he wanted to do was talk about the gift. Mista said it was important to him. He wanted to ask why. What about it was important? What did he mean by it? Was the timing significant? Was that a stupid question? It was probably a stupid question. But the next question, then, logically, is—]
[Is—]
[Mista's fingers in his hair were so gentle he could cry. Instead, he buried his face against Mista's shoulder and shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut tight in a desperate attempt to focus, to think. The warmth of being held, the familiarity of Mista's scent, the shape of the shoulders under his hands — not now. He couldn't now, and he was so angry about that, because he wanted to.]
[Anything he can think of. Anything at all. Behind his tightly-shut eyes, colored lights sparked. They flew open again.]
Just one thing. Just — I woke up because someone left some candy at my door. I was annoyed about it. I didn't understand why someone left a present after you, it bothered me.
[Even if he didn't understand why. Just . . . what was the point? Why did someone bring him that? Mista had already been there. He'd already stared at the vase Mista left him as he fell asleep. He didn't want anything else.]
[ For a second Mista was sure that his heart had stopped, stomach dropping as he thought about those candies that he'd accepted without question. He felt colder all of a sudden, a chill spreading through him as he worried his lower lip between his teeth. ]
There was candy at my door too, I just thought they came from someone else here. You didn't eat any of them, did you?
[ It was a question that he didn't really want to ask, that he was sure he didn't need to ask considering that Giorno had all but told him that he didn't want them. That they weren't important to him in even a fraction of the way the gift he'd left had been, it was a thought that made that chill in his body a little more tolerable.
He wasn't going to admit that he ate them, part of him hoping that it really had just been a kind gesture that they were reading into far too much. ]
[For a moment he trailed off, thinking back to the bleary moment in the middle of the night when he found those candies at his door. Blinking slowly, he went back over every moment, making sure he was remembering right. Ultimately, he shook his head.]
No, I didn’t eat them. I just touched them. Because I was annoyed, like I said . . . but I got that dust all over my hands. It’s stupid that anyone even left it.
[Stupid? It was hard to think, his fingers digging stubbornly into the back of Mista’s shirt, eyes squeezing shut, thoughts heavy and slow like the headache had moved its way into his thoughts now, making it impossible to put one logical step in front of the other.]
. . . It could have been that. [As reluctant as he was to admit it.] But that means somebody got in here just to leave those. [And did they leave them with anyone else? Who else could have been affected by this, or might still be affected by this? They should go check. He should move.]
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no subject
[Of course Mista didn't know the answer or have a solution. That was fine; he hadn't expected that kind of miracle. But Mista was certain of a few things, while Giorno was certain of a few more. There was the flicker once again of the old certainty that no matter what, they'd be able to figure it out if they worked on it together. They were always better together.]
[Which just made his heart twinge, considering. It might have been my fault with the gifts, Mista said, and he wanted to say something about it, but then Mista was pulling him close and holding him tight and — what could he possibly do in the face of that but wrap his arms around Mista's waist in turn? Burying his face against Mista's neck, he shuddered, eyes squeezing shut to push out the first implications of tears. He couldn't do that, not now. Not in the middle of something as dangerous and strange as this.]
. . . You didn't do this.
[Muffled, but firm. After a moment, he lifted his head to rest his chin on Mista's shoulder, glaring daggers at the opposite wall.]
I refuse to accept the idea that — that you doing something thoughtful and— [And? There were more words, he'd gone through them all before he slept, but now they were scrambling away from him and he couldn't find the right way to explain himself. How something that had made him so happy couldn't possibly have hurt them this way. The carefully-arranged display of Mista's gifts still rested on his bookshelves, staring accusatory down at him.]
That can't have caused anything like this to happen. It just can't. It's something else.
no subject
[ He had just as much trouble accepting that he hadn't pushed this along, that his caring gesture had caused them this grief in some way. He rested one of his hands on the back of Giorno's head, brow furrowed with concern as he stared intensely at his copy. That's exactly what he (it?) was, the same down to the last detail and it was uncanny.
That wasn't a strong enough word and he knew it, terrifying or disconcerting might have been a little closer to that feeling that spread through his stomach again. There were more important things for them to focus on, his heart thudding in his chest as he stroked the back of Giorno's head to keep soothing him. ]
...I'm glad you like them, I was afraid that it was too much but...it was something important to me.
[ Now really wasn't the time for this, for a heartfelt moment amidst the real danger of the situation. He needed to think, try and figure out what had been different, what else had happened before he'd been overtaken by that skull ripping headache. ]
Is there anything else you can think of? Anything at all?
[ The candy was the farthest thing from his mind, it had been so innocuous that he wouldn't have considered it at all. Something like this...it was bigger than that. ]
no subject
[Is—]
[Mista's fingers in his hair were so gentle he could cry. Instead, he buried his face against Mista's shoulder and shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut tight in a desperate attempt to focus, to think. The warmth of being held, the familiarity of Mista's scent, the shape of the shoulders under his hands — not now. He couldn't now, and he was so angry about that, because he wanted to.]
[Anything he can think of. Anything at all. Behind his tightly-shut eyes, colored lights sparked. They flew open again.]
Just one thing. Just — I woke up because someone left some candy at my door. I was annoyed about it. I didn't understand why someone left a present after you, it bothered me.
[Even if he didn't understand why. Just . . . what was the point? Why did someone bring him that? Mista had already been there. He'd already stared at the vase Mista left him as he fell asleep. He didn't want anything else.]
no subject
There was candy at my door too, I just thought they came from someone else here. You didn't eat any of them, did you?
[ It was a question that he didn't really want to ask, that he was sure he didn't need to ask considering that Giorno had all but told him that he didn't want them. That they weren't important to him in even a fraction of the way the gift he'd left had been, it was a thought that made that chill in his body a little more tolerable.
He wasn't going to admit that he ate them, part of him hoping that it really had just been a kind gesture that they were reading into far too much. ]
no subject
[For a moment he trailed off, thinking back to the bleary moment in the middle of the night when he found those candies at his door. Blinking slowly, he went back over every moment, making sure he was remembering right. Ultimately, he shook his head.]
No, I didn’t eat them. I just touched them. Because I was annoyed, like I said . . . but I got that dust all over my hands. It’s stupid that anyone even left it.
[Stupid? It was hard to think, his fingers digging stubbornly into the back of Mista’s shirt, eyes squeezing shut, thoughts heavy and slow like the headache had moved its way into his thoughts now, making it impossible to put one logical step in front of the other.]
. . . It could have been that. [As reluctant as he was to admit it.] But that means somebody got in here just to leave those. [And did they leave them with anyone else? Who else could have been affected by this, or might still be affected by this? They should go check. He should move.]
[He didn’t move.]