*** 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.
[ She doesn't know how to explain, how to say— she had to leave, she had to fly away, because it was the only thing she could do, to stay safe, but it killed her, because he didn't want her anymore, and if she stuck around he was just going to throw her away—
But it doesn't feel like that anymore. That certain knowledge isn't suffocating her anymore.
He isn't like her real— her old family.
He's her new family. ]
I'm n- I won't- I'm never—
[ As her own world blurs with tears, she presses herself against him, into a hug. It's the kind of hug neither of them normally allow themselves.
She won't leave. As long as she can help it. Even if one day...this world will probably take her family away from her, one by one.
[She throws herself against him, a maelstrom of arms and feathers and tears, and he hangs onto her instinctively, automatically, fervently. His arms wrap around her like it's that or he'll fall entirely apart. There's no time to think about it, but if he had, he'd make the same decision. He has to protect her. He has to. He can't ever let her go.]
[He loves her too much.]
[Maybe he holds on too tight. It's possible, certainly, because he can't feel how tight his chest is with the breath he doesn't breathe right now caught in it. His whole body feels like somebody else's. Maybe that's an excuse for why it's racked with silent sobs, rattling around inside his ribcage. The two of them together are storms, fighting and joining and fighting again — but he's so tired of fighting.]
[Ultimately, he's too tired to be the only one supporting them both. He lets his weight and balance rest on the trunk of his tree and allows it to hold a steadying presence at his back. That way, he can just focus on her. On crying into her shoulder, on feeling the tears soak into his shirt in turn, on grieving (or beginning to grieve) for everything that's happened to her that shouldn't have.]
[It shouldn't have. None of this is fair. None of it. He wants to tear it down and start her life over. But he can't. And — and she doesn't have to. Even like this, she's good enough. He just wants her to not have to hurt.]
[ She wants this. She wants it, she doesn't just want something to hold onto—she wants someone to hold onto her.
But, in return, she...has to hold onto him, too. He pushed her and pushed her and she left. But she pushed him too. In ways she didn't know, in ways neither of them understood, they kept crashing against each other, pressing against each other's deepest pains. That...probably won't just stop. She's probably going to screw up again. They're probably going to screw up again. But, she loves him. And...he loves her.
She's pretty sure. She's almost positive...he still loves her.
What Riley wants to do is support him too, but she physically can't. The exhaustion of revival's getting to her, and her knees almost buckle until he leans back against the tree.
Okay. She can take a moment. She can wait. She can, for the first time since all of this started, let herself rest. All she's wanted to do for weeks is cry on him. So...that's what'll happen. She can grow up and keep taking responsibility for everything she's ruined after. ]
[He loves her. It's because he loves her that he's thinking, even now in this moment of catharsis, of what he's done wrong and how to keep it from happening in the future. He remembers everything Fugo said, every word, just as he always does. He asked Fugo for a reason.]
[Do you think it's possible to know someone too well?]
[Her knees tremble. He wraps his arms still tighter around her, holding her so securely that if she falls, it's clear he'll catch her. Even so, he buries his face in her shoulder, because he has to protect himself too. Because shame curls like toxic smoke up his throat, saying this.]
I'm sorry. I made assumptions. Because I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to know people. The person who ever really mattered to me just — understood. About things like this. So I thought anyone who understood me would know like he knew, and it's—
[His heart rises into his throat, threatening to choke him. When he speaks, it sounds like he's forcing the words out past a blockage. Tears fall thick and fast on her shoulder.]
That's not fair, Riley. You're you, not anyone else. I'm really . . . really sorry.
...She wonders, if it's Mista. As she presses her forehead against him, that's the only thought she has time and coherency to have before his voice hisses apologies. She doesn't want him to have to—but at the same time, each one sparks another little tearful whimper. Each one, she nuzzles in closer, like she's still a tiger and not the phoenix desperately putting itself back together. ]
Mmm- mm, mmhmm— [ There's nothing she can say, because her tongue's stuck, because her loud, messy tears drown out everything else. She cries like she's never been allowed to, like she's never let herself. With each noise, she nods weakly. Shakily. She wishes she could give him something more concrete, but she's so tired and so—relieved, to just be here, in his arms again.
He's sorry. Her mom never said she was sorry. Her mom just did it again and again, lied and picked her every flaw apart, until even demeaning her was too much of a waste of time and energy. That's not Giorno. She wishes she'd never once had the thought that they could be the same. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
But it doesn't feel like that anymore. That certain knowledge isn't suffocating her anymore.
He isn't like her real— her old family.
He's her new family. ]
I'm n- I won't- I'm never—
[ As her own world blurs with tears, she presses herself against him, into a hug. It's the kind of hug neither of them normally allow themselves.
She won't leave. As long as she can help it. Even if one day...this world will probably take her family away from her, one by one.
She won't leave anymore, before it happens. ]
no subject
[He loves her too much.]
[Maybe he holds on too tight. It's possible, certainly, because he can't feel how tight his chest is with the breath he doesn't breathe right now caught in it. His whole body feels like somebody else's. Maybe that's an excuse for why it's racked with silent sobs, rattling around inside his ribcage. The two of them together are storms, fighting and joining and fighting again — but he's so tired of fighting.]
[Ultimately, he's too tired to be the only one supporting them both. He lets his weight and balance rest on the trunk of his tree and allows it to hold a steadying presence at his back. That way, he can just focus on her. On crying into her shoulder, on feeling the tears soak into his shirt in turn, on grieving (or beginning to grieve) for everything that's happened to her that shouldn't have.]
[It shouldn't have. None of this is fair. None of it. He wants to tear it down and start her life over. But he can't. And — and she doesn't have to. Even like this, she's good enough. He just wants her to not have to hurt.]
no subject
But, in return, she...has to hold onto him, too. He pushed her and pushed her and she left. But she pushed him too. In ways she didn't know, in ways neither of them understood, they kept crashing against each other, pressing against each other's deepest pains. That...probably won't just stop. She's probably going to screw up again. They're probably going to screw up again. But, she loves him. And...he loves her.
She's pretty sure. She's almost positive...he still loves her.
What Riley wants to do is support him too, but she physically can't. The exhaustion of revival's getting to her, and her knees almost buckle until he leans back against the tree.
Okay. She can take a moment. She can wait. She can, for the first time since all of this started, let herself rest. All she's wanted to do for weeks is cry on him. So...that's what'll happen. She can grow up and keep taking responsibility for everything she's ruined after. ]
no subject
[Do you think it's possible to know someone too well?]
[Her knees tremble. He wraps his arms still tighter around her, holding her so securely that if she falls, it's clear he'll catch her. Even so, he buries his face in her shoulder, because he has to protect himself too. Because shame curls like toxic smoke up his throat, saying this.]
I'm sorry. I made assumptions. Because I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to know people. The person who ever really mattered to me just — understood. About things like this. So I thought anyone who understood me would know like he knew, and it's—
[His heart rises into his throat, threatening to choke him. When he speaks, it sounds like he's forcing the words out past a blockage. Tears fall thick and fast on her shoulder.]
That's not fair, Riley. You're you, not anyone else. I'm really . . . really sorry.
cw: child abuse mentions
...She wonders, if it's Mista. As she presses her forehead against him, that's the only thought she has time and coherency to have before his voice hisses apologies. She doesn't want him to have to—but at the same time, each one sparks another little tearful whimper. Each one, she nuzzles in closer, like she's still a tiger and not the phoenix desperately putting itself back together. ]
Mmm- mm, mmhmm— [ There's nothing she can say, because her tongue's stuck, because her loud, messy tears drown out everything else. She cries like she's never been allowed to, like she's never let herself. With each noise, she nods weakly. Shakily. She wishes she could give him something more concrete, but she's so tired and so—relieved, to just be here, in his arms again.
He's sorry. Her mom never said she was sorry. Her mom just did it again and again, lied and picked her every flaw apart, until even demeaning her was too much of a waste of time and energy. That's not Giorno. She wishes she'd never once had the thought that they could be the same. ]