[It's further than practically anyone on their team's reached-- well, excluding the root of Jin's big gay headache himself, anyway. And it's a delicate position to be in, even in the relative security they can both hold onto in the quiet confines of Giorno's room.

(And fortunately for Giorno, he's too distracted by his own #drama to take note of any of Fugo's things.)

He shifts in his chair; sets the cup down.]

You can say that again. I don't-- [want to feel this way, he nearly blurts, but that's a bolder lie than even he'd ever tell. Of course he wants to keep that foolish, weightless emotion in his chest. But feelings are complicated. Feelings are stupid. There's no instinctive, uncomplicated action to take when all the roads that verge from where he stands are gnarled and knotted, twisted together.

It'd be easier to feel nothing. But he could never, ever feel nothing.]

--I don't think anything's gonna come of them. But I do care about Asher, no matter what happens. Even if he's frustrating the hell out of me.