[His logic is perfect. Undefeatable in the face of Giorno's fussing about making sure he's eating and sleeping enough. There's no way Giorno will be able to continue to embarrass him. Or so Fugo thinks, until Giorno leans in and kisses his forehead. Then he doesn't think much of anything, first too surprised and then too flustered to think beyond why is Giogio like this and this is so unfair. Where does all this spontaneous affection come from. Why does he never see it coming. All of his information about Giorno's behavior is so completely and totally out of date.]
[Fugo nods, completely red in the face from the tips of his ears and down the back of his neck, and just sort of gives up on continuing their conversation in the notebook. He abandons his pen, rises to his feet, and tugs Giorno's arm in the direction of the table where their completely cold lunch. Giorno needs to quit teasing him and come over and eat.]
no subject
[Fugo nods, completely red in the face from the tips of his ears and down the back of his neck, and just sort of gives up on continuing their conversation in the notebook. He abandons his pen, rises to his feet, and tugs Giorno's arm in the direction of the table where their completely cold lunch. Giorno needs to quit teasing him and come over and eat.]