[Simply said. He is, and will always be. Not the kind of anger that surfaces day to day, no, and not the kind that eats him up-- but it's there, quiet, in the back of his mind. A grudging anger, and one he'll likely never really get rid of.]
I mean, not-- I'm not gonna go out and punch a wall or something, but. Yeah.
[There are tears pricking at the corner of his eyes again, but he doesn't let them fall. Just curls himself up tight and tries to remember that he's safe, he is, always he's safe here with Polnareff, no matter what.]
I never had someone who took care of me like this before. Before . . . Passione. No one who got mad because they wanted me to be safe and I wasn't.
[Blurted out, irrelevant, and he scowls at himself, because it wasn't necessary. Buries his face against the top of Giorno's head, his cheeks reddening.]
I like calling you that. Even if it's embarrassing sometimes? I still don't know how to be a son right. But I'd rather be your son than . . .
[He sighs a little, wiggling himself around so he can kiss Polnareff on the cheek.]
Sometimes it makes me miss Jonathan. But I think it's better to miss Jonathan than pretend I don't miss him at all. And then it feels like . . . there are people who love me on all sides, sort of. Which is even more safe. You and Jonathan and Bruno and . . . lots of people.
[From what he's heard, it would impossible not to.]
And there's-- I know I told you, but there's no right way to be a son. Not really. Or if there is, it doesn't matter, because when have our lives ever been normal? You can be you, and that's the son I want.
[It's a nervewracking thing to say, honestly. He means it, he does-- he can't lie about anything, not right now-- and yet the word itself is terrifying. Son, which comes with implied responsibility, which still comes with fears, even now (even if they're far less than they were a few minutes ago). But he doesn't take the word back.
Polnareff smiles a little, catching Giorno's eye.]
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no subject
[He tries to hold it back, but it tumbles out anyway.]
F-family. Protect your family. I get angry for Kakyoin all the time . . . for Jotaro, for you. For my famiglia.
[Polnareff's chin on his head is a welcome weight. He snuggles in, stays as close as he can when he answers.]
I wouldn't mind if you got mad at them for me.
no subject
[Simply said. He is, and will always be. Not the kind of anger that surfaces day to day, no, and not the kind that eats him up-- but it's there, quiet, in the back of his mind. A grudging anger, and one he'll likely never really get rid of.]
I mean, not-- I'm not gonna go out and punch a wall or something, but. Yeah.
no subject
[There are tears pricking at the corner of his eyes again, but he doesn't let them fall. Just curls himself up tight and tries to remember that he's safe, he is, always he's safe here with Polnareff, no matter what.]
I never had someone who took care of me like this before. Before . . . Passione. No one who got mad because they wanted me to be safe and I wasn't.
You're a good person, to do that.
no subject
[Blurted out, irrelevant, and he scowls at himself, because it wasn't necessary. Buries his face against the top of Giorno's head, his cheeks reddening.]
You're safe now. Always. No matter what.
no subject
[He sighs a little, wiggling himself around so he can kiss Polnareff on the cheek.]
Sometimes it makes me miss Jonathan. But I think it's better to miss Jonathan than pretend I don't miss him at all. And then it feels like . . . there are people who love me on all sides, sort of. Which is even more safe. You and Jonathan and Bruno and . . . lots of people.
no subject
[From what he's heard, it would impossible not to.]
And there's-- I know I told you, but there's no right way to be a son. Not really. Or if there is, it doesn't matter, because when have our lives ever been normal? You can be you, and that's the son I want.
[It's a nervewracking thing to say, honestly. He means it, he does-- he can't lie about anything, not right now-- and yet the word itself is terrifying. Son, which comes with implied responsibility, which still comes with fears, even now (even if they're far less than they were a few minutes ago). But he doesn't take the word back.
Polnareff smiles a little, catching Giorno's eye.]
You're easy to love, you know.
no subject
[He trembles a little, not from fear or even nerves but just — overwhelming joy. To be wanted . . .]
Nobody ever . . . wanted me before . . . or said that . . . or if they did, it wasn't.
It wasn't so clear? I didn't understand. You make it easy to understand, you always do. That's part of why you're easy to love, too.
no subject
[He exhales slowly, his eyes closing.]
After all this is over-- you can ask me to say stuff like that again, if you need to hear it. Or just want to hear it.