[God. He sighs. He doesn't want to do this. Not now, not ever. It was easier when there wasn't a deadline. He isn't any good at this when he doesn't have the space to maneuver, and he's terrible at honesty anyway.]
[What he wants and what Mettaton can do aren't the same, in any case.]
[Giorno's quiet for a moment, letting himself relax so he's tucked under Mettaton's chin. It seems like all he's doing this whole conversation is fighting himself.]
I want you to be happy. I want you to be somewhere doing something that's good for you and makes you smile. The problem is that I want it to be somewhere I can find you.
[He doesn't understand why people keep leaving. He can't be home, which he's come to terms with, but when he tries to stem the loneliness by daring to care about someone, it's a couple months and they're gone. At least Kaz and Jesper didn't ask to go. This hurts either more or less, or maybe just differently.]
I've never known someone like you before. I thought it was meant to be that we'd met, because there were things about you that I understood without having to work as hard as I work with everyone else. I thought we could help each other, that understanding would be good enough, but it just isn't. It's not.
We're not the same. I don't think anything I said to you about George and Mavahari was wrong. If something like that happened again, there isn't anyone's opinion I respect enough to stop, not like I stopped for you. But I'm not a cruel enough person to tell you to stay for me. That's what I want, because I'm sick of losing people, but it's not a fair thing to ask of someone you care about.
[Another moment of quiet. His fingers curl in Mettaton's shirtfront; he sighs again.]
I'm just disappointed, really. I could have done better.
[It's a lot to take in. Not because the subject matter is difficult - if anything, like always, it's far too similar to places he's been before - but because Giorno's hurt. Hurting Giorno's like hurting himself, but not in the melodramatic, self-pitying, addicting way. It hurts like a punch to the core hurts. Like seeing his own ugly, tear-stained reflection in the mirror hurts.
They've known each other for a long time, now. This may very well be the last time they see or hear from each other outside of letters and photos.
Sigh.
For once in a long time, without the aid of a spell or the threat of death, Mettaton opens his mouth and let's out the truth.]
...You did help me.
I've been alive for a very long time. A very long time. And in all that time, no one's ever really understood me. Not my friends. Not my fans. [He clenches and unclenches his fingers, eyes far away and on a word he's never told more than one person.] Not my family... I'm sure they thought they did - letting people think they understand is kind of how I operate, but... But no one ever seemed to comprehend just how much I sacrificed. How much thought went into everything I did. How much I was constantly burying what was inside me by being "the happy one." And because they didn't understand, they didn't appreciate it. And because they didn't appreciate it, I'd... I'd always start to hate them.
...Haha. And even though I'd be simmering in contempt that no one bothered to look closer than the surface, I'd lash out when they tried. I always thought if they could see through the walls and find who I really was, they'd hate me. And being hated - really, truly, personally hated - was worse than being taken for granted.
You're the first person in a hundred years who's ever seen through me. ...Metaphorically, [he adds with a sad smile, not exactly clarifying. Giorno's a smart cookie. He can piece it together.] And even though it was terrifying for me, it was so refreshing to have someone I could talk to and not be misunderstood. Every problem I had, you could relate to. Every problem you had, I could think of an answer to. It was like meeting a twin I never knew I had. [He laughs.] For one of the few times in my life, I had someone I'd actually listen to instead of gallivanting right into my own bad ideas like an idiot.
...I never would have opened myself up without you. [Pft.] I'd either still be single or stabbed in the neck by an angry date without you. When things were the darkest for me... I don't think I would have pulled through entirely without you.
So maybe you could have done better. But you did good enough for me.
...I can't tell you not to be disappointed. I can't tell you not to be upset or disillusioned or tell you not to hurt anyone after I'm gone. I can't even tell you to try kindness, no matter how much I want to. That's for you to decide. All I want is that you wake up in the morning after a long, hard-fought day and feel like you've done the right thing. [One more time, just to do it, he rustles his hand through Giorno's hair again.] (And not "the right thing" by society's standards. I mean your own standards. I want you to be happy with yourself.)
And hey. You're not losing me.
These legs are burning into the back of your eyes whether you want it or not.
[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.
[Ah, there's the tears. It sets off Mettaton's own again, but it's not because he's sad. He is a little, yes. It hurts to say goodbye. But mostly...
He laughs, low and throaty and not bothering to pick back up the mask he just dropped.]
You don't have to be a stranger, you know. If this team ever feels like it's too much, you have an open invitation from me to join ours. [He nudges the boy to look at him just to give him a wink. Needing an invitation from Keats doesn't seem to be implied.
...so this is it, then. The end of this little duo they've formed. Mettaton rests his chin back onto Giorno's crown--]
Gasp.
[Giorno is already on his lap; it takes very little maneuvering for one arm to curl under the boy's knees so Mettaton can lift him, bridal style, into the air. He doesn't wait for a reaction. He's already running back to his own room.]
You never got to meet Duke Anastasia- this is changing right now!!!
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no subject
[What he wants and what Mettaton can do aren't the same, in any case.]
[Giorno's quiet for a moment, letting himself relax so he's tucked under Mettaton's chin. It seems like all he's doing this whole conversation is fighting himself.]
I want you to be happy. I want you to be somewhere doing something that's good for you and makes you smile. The problem is that I want it to be somewhere I can find you.
[He doesn't understand why people keep leaving. He can't be home, which he's come to terms with, but when he tries to stem the loneliness by daring to care about someone, it's a couple months and they're gone. At least Kaz and Jesper didn't ask to go. This hurts either more or less, or maybe just differently.]
I've never known someone like you before. I thought it was meant to be that we'd met, because there were things about you that I understood without having to work as hard as I work with everyone else. I thought we could help each other, that understanding would be good enough, but it just isn't. It's not.
We're not the same. I don't think anything I said to you about George and Mavahari was wrong. If something like that happened again, there isn't anyone's opinion I respect enough to stop, not like I stopped for you. But I'm not a cruel enough person to tell you to stay for me. That's what I want, because I'm sick of losing people, but it's not a fair thing to ask of someone you care about.
[Another moment of quiet. His fingers curl in Mettaton's shirtfront; he sighs again.]
I'm just disappointed, really. I could have done better.
no subject
They've known each other for a long time, now. This may very well be the last time they see or hear from each other outside of letters and photos.
Sigh.
For once in a long time, without the aid of a spell or the threat of death, Mettaton opens his mouth and let's out the truth.]
...You did help me.
I've been alive for a very long time. A very long time. And in all that time, no one's ever really understood me. Not my friends. Not my fans. [He clenches and unclenches his fingers, eyes far away and on a word he's never told more than one person.] Not my family... I'm sure they thought they did - letting people think they understand is kind of how I operate, but... But no one ever seemed to comprehend just how much I sacrificed. How much thought went into everything I did. How much I was constantly burying what was inside me by being "the happy one." And because they didn't understand, they didn't appreciate it. And because they didn't appreciate it, I'd... I'd always start to hate them.
...Haha. And even though I'd be simmering in contempt that no one bothered to look closer than the surface, I'd lash out when they tried. I always thought if they could see through the walls and find who I really was, they'd hate me. And being hated - really, truly, personally hated - was worse than being taken for granted.
You're the first person in a hundred years who's ever seen through me. ...Metaphorically, [he adds with a sad smile, not exactly clarifying. Giorno's a smart cookie. He can piece it together.] And even though it was terrifying for me, it was so refreshing to have someone I could talk to and not be misunderstood. Every problem I had, you could relate to. Every problem you had, I could think of an answer to. It was like meeting a twin I never knew I had. [He laughs.] For one of the few times in my life, I had someone I'd actually listen to instead of gallivanting right into my own bad ideas like an idiot.
...I never would have opened myself up without you. [Pft.] I'd either still be single or stabbed in the neck by an angry date without you. When things were the darkest for me... I don't think I would have pulled through entirely without you.
So maybe you could have done better. But you did good enough for me.
...I can't tell you not to be disappointed. I can't tell you not to be upset or disillusioned or tell you not to hurt anyone after I'm gone. I can't even tell you to try kindness, no matter how much I want to. That's for you to decide. All I want is that you wake up in the morning after a long, hard-fought day and feel like you've done the right thing. [One more time, just to do it, he rustles his hand through Giorno's hair again.] (And not "the right thing" by society's standards. I mean your own standards. I want you to be happy with yourself.)
And hey. You're not losing me.
These legs are burning into the back of your eyes whether you want it or not.
no subject
[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.
no subject
He laughs, low and throaty and not bothering to pick back up the mask he just dropped.]
You don't have to be a stranger, you know. If this team ever feels like it's too much, you have an open invitation from me to join ours. [He nudges the boy to look at him just to give him a wink. Needing an invitation from Keats doesn't seem to be implied.
...so this is it, then. The end of this little duo they've formed. Mettaton rests his chin back onto Giorno's crown--]
Gasp.
[Giorno is already on his lap; it takes very little maneuvering for one arm to curl under the boy's knees so Mettaton can lift him, bridal style, into the air. He doesn't wait for a reaction. He's already running back to his own room.]
You never got to meet Duke Anastasia- this is changing right now!!!