[When you see something about yourself that you hate, you kill it. But Kakyoin...I can't do that. I can't stand to pull out and throw away any more of me, or there won't be anything left.
He'd said that, hadn't he? Right in the beginning, early on, when he hadn't wanted to talk about it and Kakyoin had tried to make him, and he'd gotten frustrated and bristly and upset because he didn't want to be needled about it, didn't want to have to confess anything to Kakyoin of all people, because he could barely stand to look at him even then from the guilt and the shame of knowing what he was carrying.
...Even back then, had Kakyoin seen that he — no, what a stupid thing to ask. Of course Kakyoin had seen it. Kakyoin knows him better than he knows himself, better than anyone.
And it's quiet, but a quiet epiphany is still an epiphany, and he doesn't say eureka but it's the same feeling, like a fog parting to reveal a horizon that's always been there, whether you ever knew it or not.]
...I don't care enough about myself, do I.
[What a new and mildly bewildering concept. People hurt when he does things to himself. Even when it's for their benefit. Even if it means that no one's getting hurt except him. Even if it's so clearly the better option than ever being the person having to watch someone else get hurt ever again.
...
So. He...cares about them so much...that he puts them into that position instead...?
...Jesus, he's going to have to apologize to, like. Everyone he's ever spoken to. Ever.]
...Whenever I fight Kakyoin, we use codewords. Usually my mom's name. Because I scare him, and the thought of hurting him scares me, and we need to know how to tell each other to stop —
[And for just a second, just one, something crumples in his expression, and his voice comes breathy and shaking.]
God. I scare the hell out of him...
[He sucks in a breath, dragging his hand over his eyes, and leaves his forearm lying across them for a few seconds while he pulls himself together again.]
...It's not the muda muda, so much. It's not being able to move. It's when something's coming at me and I can't move. I was on the ground and my body didn't work, that's what it was. If I hadn't already been like that, I don't think it would've gotten me the way it did. I thought if I could slow everything down, I'd be able to move, and I could get away.
I'm sorry. It doesn't change that I did it, but I don't think I would've if I could've— ...no. I'm just sorry. I fucked up, and I'm sorry.
[He lowers his arm, blinking bleary eyes up at Giorno.]
Pick something that'll make you stop, if you hear it, and tell me. My grandma's name is Suzie Q, can you say that in a hurry if you have to?
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He'd said that, hadn't he? Right in the beginning, early on, when he hadn't wanted to talk about it and Kakyoin had tried to make him, and he'd gotten frustrated and bristly and upset because he didn't want to be needled about it, didn't want to have to confess anything to Kakyoin of all people, because he could barely stand to look at him even then from the guilt and the shame of knowing what he was carrying.
...Even back then, had Kakyoin seen that he — no, what a stupid thing to ask. Of course Kakyoin had seen it. Kakyoin knows him better than he knows himself, better than anyone.
And it's quiet, but a quiet epiphany is still an epiphany, and he doesn't say eureka but it's the same feeling, like a fog parting to reveal a horizon that's always been there, whether you ever knew it or not.]
...I don't care enough about myself, do I.
[What a new and mildly bewildering concept. People hurt when he does things to himself. Even when it's for their benefit. Even if it means that no one's getting hurt except him. Even if it's so clearly the better option than ever being the person having to watch someone else get hurt ever again.
...
So. He...cares about them so much...that he puts them into that position instead...?
...Jesus, he's going to have to apologize to, like. Everyone he's ever spoken to. Ever.]
...Whenever I fight Kakyoin, we use codewords. Usually my mom's name. Because I scare him, and the thought of hurting him scares me, and we need to know how to tell each other to stop —
[And for just a second, just one, something crumples in his expression, and his voice comes breathy and shaking.]
God. I scare the hell out of him...
[He sucks in a breath, dragging his hand over his eyes, and leaves his forearm lying across them for a few seconds while he pulls himself together again.]
...It's not the muda muda, so much. It's not being able to move. It's when something's coming at me and I can't move. I was on the ground and my body didn't work, that's what it was. If I hadn't already been like that, I don't think it would've gotten me the way it did. I thought if I could slow everything down, I'd be able to move, and I could get away.
I'm sorry. It doesn't change that I did it, but I don't think I would've if I could've— ...no. I'm just sorry. I fucked up, and I'm sorry.
[He lowers his arm, blinking bleary eyes up at Giorno.]
Pick something that'll make you stop, if you hear it, and tell me. My grandma's name is Suzie Q, can you say that in a hurry if you have to?