[Fugo watches Giorno's expression, tracking the little ways it changes--and, more significantly, the way he holds his face and the rest of himself still. It's not unfamiliar body language. In fact, it's reminiscent to the way Giorno carried himself when Buccellati first introduced him to the rest of the team. Small. Quiet. Unobtrusive.
(It's not like the Giorno he wanted to know better in Napoli, or the Giorno he's beginning to understand a little better in Ruby City. They're in turns bright and animated, sharp and dangerous. Giorno loves open and honestly and Giovanna protects what is his without flinching. Neither of them ever seem small.)
He thinks of the way Giorno pulled in a breath as Gold Experience became more animated. How he winced, the way he ducks his head. The almost dismissive way he gestured and spoke towards his Stand; how uncertainly he speaks now of Gold Experience's, quite honestly, amazing ability to read and understand independently of Giorno. Half a dozen little signs of too-familiar pain and sadness, all focused on Gold Experience.
Because it's Fugo, he has to take a moment to worry would this be all right, before he reaches up to catch Giorno's hand with his own as it drops back into his lap. But as he writes, his fingers loosely curl around Giorno's. This note takes a little more time. He writes slowly, choosing each word with care. When it's finished, he sets his pen aside and gestures for Gold Experience to come closer and so he can read what was written.]
I know you don't remember, because it hasn't happened for you yet. But when we first saw each other again after a long time apart, you knew that I was hurt. And before anything was said, before I even knew you were there, you healed me. It meant a great deal to me then and still does today. I'll never forget that morning.
no subject
(It's not like the Giorno he wanted to know better in Napoli, or the Giorno he's beginning to understand a little better in Ruby City. They're in turns bright and animated, sharp and dangerous. Giorno loves open and honestly and Giovanna protects what is his without flinching. Neither of them ever seem small.)
He thinks of the way Giorno pulled in a breath as Gold Experience became more animated. How he winced, the way he ducks his head. The almost dismissive way he gestured and spoke towards his Stand; how uncertainly he speaks now of Gold Experience's, quite honestly, amazing ability to read and understand independently of Giorno. Half a dozen little signs of too-familiar pain and sadness, all focused on Gold Experience.
Because it's Fugo, he has to take a moment to worry would this be all right, before he reaches up to catch Giorno's hand with his own as it drops back into his lap. But as he writes, his fingers loosely curl around Giorno's. This note takes a little more time. He writes slowly, choosing each word with care. When it's finished, he sets his pen aside and gestures for Gold Experience to come closer and so he can read what was written.]
I know you don't remember, because it hasn't happened for you yet.
But when we first saw each other again after a long time apart, you knew that I was hurt.
And before anything was said, before I even knew you were there, you healed me.
It meant a great deal to me then and still does today.
I'll never forget that morning.
Thank you.