digiorno | ic inbox ( ruby city ) Ⅰ

[It feels like being stuck, that's for sure. Like he's being pulled in all directions so that the end result is not moving at all. He has no power now, for all his power.]

[He closes his eyes, focusing on the afterimage of Jolie behind his eyelids.]

Sometimes that just isn't an option, unfortunately.

I know that, too.

[It's tempting to reach out, shift and slip an arm around him, but he's hesitant to jostle or jar Giorno at all, so he keeps quiet and still instead.

But equally silent is Star Platinum's appearance, a few feet away near the wall, like a silent guardian himself — and one more link in a chain of support.]

You've been biting your nails.

[He senses more than hears Star's presence, opens his eyes to look at him. He's beautiful, a friend, a support. An easier support, maybe, because Star won't make him talk.]

[Drawing attention to his nails makes him hook his hands into his pockets, an odd, unnatural shift in the way he's sitting.]

I didn't expect anyone to notice.

[Or care, maybe.]

I notice.

[He leaves that simple, doesn't elaborate much. It says a lot in very few words, being so wide open to interpretation.]

Kakyoin's an insomniac. I need things to do with my hands — a lot of times I smoke. You bite your nails. We're a lot alike.

I'm worried about him.

[And Narancia. And Izabel. And Bruno. And missing the point entirely. He curls his hand around Jotaro's elbow, looking down and away.]

I don't usually. I made myself stop.

Why did you stop?

[That's a stupid question, isn't it? Stupid, with an obvious answer. Except that maybe there are a lot of answers, and finding out which one it is promises to be unusually telling.]

Because it's bad for you? Just because you could?

[Because it's weakness put on display? It could be a lot of things.]

[He shrugs one shoulder, the one that isn't leaned against Jotaro's arm.]

I don't like people seeing when I'm . . .

[What? What is he feeling, really? It's becoming hard to say. He leans over and shuts off the tap, then runs his damp fingers down the back of Jolie's neck again.]

I don't like when people see me.

Too much you. No...

[He hesitates. The concept, he knows well enough; it's the phrasing it properly that slows him down.]

...armor. Between you and them.

. . . Mmm.

[A slight bob of his head; he turns his face against Jotaro's arm. He doesn't want it to go away - the armor, or his friend, he doesn't know which, but he can't have both at once, can he?]

I want to and I have to. It's not just the wanting, it's not just that. But that's part of it.

And you have to because that's who they need you to be? You have to lead by example. Be strong to prove it's possible to be.

[He reaches into the tub, splashes a few droplets of water into the air for Jolie to occupy herself with. She's oblivious and precious, and that makes one of them, all told.]

That's right. That's exactly right.

[His voice is muffled against Jotaro's sleeve. It's safe here, he knows. There are two fewer safe spaces in the city now, but Jotaro is still here.]

For Narancia especially . . . for Fugo. For Bruno, too, even if he doesn't think he needs that. They need me.

[And you need him, he finishes in his head, watching all the pieces fall into place and ultimately deciding that it'd be kinder not to voice it when it's something they both already know. And he's not here.]

When everybody leans on you from different sides...it's worse than falling over, because you're still standing but no one's holding you up. You're just caught between all of them.

[And he's not here. And Trish isn't, either. And it might have been fine if he'd never been here at all, but after this - all this time, all the comfort he'd forgotten and then remembered again - after that, it's really not fine at all.]

I know you . . . know what that is. What it's like. So I don't want to complain.

I think the fact that I know is the reason why you can complain.

[He hesitates again.]

...I don't want you to be surrounded by people and still alone. It's because I know how it feels that I don't want that for you.

. . . Well, what--

[Pause, breathe, in, out; he's trying, god, he's trying.]

What good does it do, anyway? It doesn't change anything.

It changes...something. Maybe just not what you'd think. Or what you want. That's the part that's frustrating, and hurts.

[It's Star's turn to reach out now, unfolding and shifting slightly, extending ghostly purple fingers in search of Giorno's arm to provide support from his free side as well.]

I don't know if I can put it into words. But it changes something when someone understands, even if they can't do anything about it.

[He doesn't know if he believes that. He doesn't know if he can say it out loud without breaking into pieces and not being able to put himself back together. But he does reach out and take Star's hand in his own; he holds on too tightly, maybe, squeezing until the pressure makes him feel real and present.]

Sometimes it feels like it was easier when everyone just ignored me and hated me. It wasn't - I never felt like I'd lost anything.

...Yeah. Because you're strong, then. You get hard and brittle, and nothing touches you.

Happiness feels like weakness, because it's just something that'll hurt you if it's taken away. Nothing to take, no way to get hurt.

Mmhm. When I knew nothing I ever did would make a difference, it didn't . . . matter.

[But he made a difference to Mista, and now - and he'd be disappointed to know Giorno is upset over him, and he wouldn't want it, and so he's trying so hard not to be, but all the holding it in in the world doesn't seem to be helping.]

...

[He breathes in slowly.]

That's just a different way of killing yourself, isn't it...?

[Oh.]

Maybe it is . . . ? Except instead of stopping, just . . . never starting?

Yeah. Either way, the outcome is...

[...]

You can't grab your heart and make it hold still until it stops hurting, Giorno.

[He shudders, head to toe, and squeezes Star's hand hard.]

So what do I . . . ?

[The sensation is pronounced, even filtered down through the distant connection he has with his Stand; his own hand hums with phantom pressure that makes him want to wiggle his fingers against it, even as he stays steady against Giorno's shudder.]

...Try just letting yourself miss him.

Let me worry about keeping your head above water for now.

That's too much . . .

[But no, that's Jotaro's choice, isn't it? What he takes on, that's his choice. He can't make choices for his friends. That's wrong.]

[It feels like his mind is slowing down, the deeper he sinks into this.]

I told you, didn't I? I'm not a good person without him.

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