[This time, when Mettaton runs his fingers through Giorno's hair, Giorno leans fully into the touch. He closes his eyes, feeling entirely comfortable for the first time in this entire conversation, although that lump of sadness in his throat hasn't gone anywhere. It feels safe now, and not like weakness, to feel the mess of things that he's feeling.]

[It hurts a lot to think that he'll never be this close to Mettaton again. It's an exaggeration to say he's used to it, much more so to say he takes it for granted, but he was starting to cautiously hold out hope that it would be there when he was upset, at least most of the time. The idea of this safe place just being a memory is strange and hollow. But still: better than a few moments ago.]

I know you're telling the truth, because I know what you sound like when you're lying. And you know what I sound like when I'm lying, too. It was frightening at first, but I think I like it now.

[He's quiet for another moment, thinking about words. Family. Invisibility. Kindness. Happiness. Then he takes Mettaton's hand in his own and squeezes it gently.]

I'm going to miss you so much, you know-- [Oh. And now he's crying, big stupid tears that he can't push back, but he's smiling at the same time, face pressed against Mettaton's chest.] You do feel so much like family. The kind that counts.