[Which is where he'll be, a cup of coffee in his lap, a cup of tea on the little table under his loft. Both beds are empty, neatly made. Actually, everything's neat, except for the little pile of bobby pins on the other corner of the table.]
[It doesn't take too long for Jin to track Giorno's room down, fortunately; he politely, almost meekly (if it weren't him, he is never quite meek), pushes his way past the door and to the seat that awaits him.
The inside is put together. More than he'd guess at from a teenage boy-- but then again, Giorno Giovanna is no ordinary teenage boy. The reminder of the fact draws back that general feeling of sheepishness that comes along with being repeatedly, well. Schooled by Giorno, and his voice when he responds is gruff out of, mostly, embarrassment.
He doesn't talk about himself like this. He rarely deals with any feelings quite like this, either. Kung Jin is all pride and strength and stubbornness and justice: never any good at matters of the heart, not ever.]
[No, okay, he doesn't say that. He doesn't actually want Jin to shut down. It's just funny, to him, that Jin thinks this is a terribly unique problem. Or that misogyny is the reserve of straight men, but you know. We take baby steps here.]
[He sips his coffee, then glances towards Jin and, in a seamless move, slips up onto the edge of the table and nudges the chair out with his toe.]
Of course I do. Sit. Drink your tea.
[It smells like flowers in here, and old library books.]
[Jin casts Giorno, then the teacup, a dubious glance, but at last sits and takes the offered tea.
The cup radiating heat in his hands, the mingling aroma of flowers, books with dog-eared, torn pages-- there's a calming effect on him. He doesn't know Giorno especially well, nor is there any way for Giorno to know how many hours Jin breathed in this same paper scent in the rows and rows of the Shaolin's archives. He expects that this was pretty well intentional, anyway. Giorno is definitely that type.
Jin takes a quiet sip. He peers across the table at Giorno expectantly.]
[Funnily enough, none of this is scripted. That's the strange thing about Giorno: he has the capacity to be wholly genuine, underneath all the artifice. He's terrible at it, usually, and an awful know-it-all, but he sometimes tries. It smells like flowers because he smells like flowers; it smells like old books because Fugo lives here, too; he offered tea instead of coffee because tea is more calming.]
[This is the best way he knows to help. He isn't sure it's going to work, but he cares about Jin enough to want to try.]
I'm not going to bite you.
[#vampirejoke. He pulls himself further up onto the desk, crosses his legs on the edge like it's a sofa, and cups his coffee in both hands.]
You're upset about a lot of different things. I think there was a question in there, too. Where do you want to start?
I asked if you thought I was crazy. I know I'm not.
[He inhales a little of the steam coming off the surface of the tea. Perhaps it's less intent, on Giorno's behalf, and more intuition. The kid's not a mind-reader, as far as he knows (and he has met mind-readers, real unsubtle bunch).
Hopefully, it's a good sign that he's become a bit less inscrutable to Giorno. That's something like consistency: soothing, oddly, right along with the tea.
Jin blinks, lowering his eyes. He's honest. There's no longer any use in giving anything but that.] Even if getting dragged around all the wrong places by your heart feels a lot like it.
[It's definitely an improvement. Everything about this is an improvement, really. Giorno knows better than anyone that you sometimes have to push people to their breaking point to get through to them. This isn't quite Jin's breaking point, probably, but it's a big push.]
[It's clear, too, that he feels safe with Jin. Something subtle in the posture, the way he lets himself clamber around in a way that's a little more childlike. His nails drum on the side of his mug.]
Mm, well. You know I have an opinion on everything. Mostly, I just think people are complicated. Feelings are complicated. Feelings are stupid.
[Look at him, deliberately not looking at Fugo's loft bed, or the drawer where he keeps his gun, or . . .]
[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.
[He'd have called Jin on that. It feels good to be in love. It feels amazing. Even when it hurts. As it is, the answer makes him smile--one of the few genuine, warm smiles Jin's received from Giorno in the time they've known each other.]
I know you do. And he cares about you, no matter how much you're worrying him. Which is a lot. He wouldn't stop talking about it the first time we talked.
[His tone is fond. It was a good foot for him and Asher to get off on. Much better than pretty much any other foot, honestly.]
Even if nothing comes of it, it's a good feeling. Just-- [He rests his knuckles against his chest.] Warm. [And those are the best words he has to describe it, really.]
[. . . But then.]
You did sound a little desperate, though. [OH WAIT THERE IT IS.]
[He's not so willing as Giorno to call the feeling what it is by name, warmth in his chest or no. Jin does love Asher-- he'd move mountains, if he needed, to keep him happy. Or allow himself be blackmailed to keep him safe. Stepping past the threshold to an 'in love', however...
He's not prepared for that. Friendship had been a journey in and of itself. Even for Jin, the risk seems nearly incalculable.]
After I got hurt on the field. That was the first time you'd talked?
Men are inexplicable and stupid, Jin. That's just a fact.
[But then, more pensively:] It was, yes. It was actually a very nice conversation, once I got over the username, which took some doing. The way he talked about you reminded me of the way I talk about a friend of mine.
The warmth in Giorno's face shows that he cares five for this stupid boy just as much, and the smile's contagious.] Must be an epidemic among dumb guys. You should tell me about this one too.
[...]
After you explain that. What do you mean, I was right?
[He blinks and looks up at Jin over the rim of his mug. Oh. Right. He just sort of assumed that everyone knew Fugo was here and was as overjoyed about it as he is. Except Kaz, nothing makes Kaz happy.]
Oh. You were right. I get to keep my promise, because he showed up here.
[Jin thinks back to that one skinny kid he'd spotted earlier this month, wandering around and sweeping snow. Come to think of it, he'd seen Giorno milling around him quite a lot, hadn't he?
His expression brightens, and he smiles, genuinely pleased at that bit of good news.]
So that was him. I was wondering whether that was the case. How's he doing?
[For a moment Giorno looks at Jin very critically. What he's doing, although it's not at all clear, is checking to see if the concern is genuine. His protectiveness of Fugo is immediately apparent, although Jin pretty much already knows.]
[After a few moments, his sudden sharp frown evens out.]
. . . Decently. He knows he's not alone now, which helps.
He isn't well. But he's not as unwell as he could be, I suppose.
[It's actually lost on Jin because he's a loyal fucking idiot somehow you roadrollered yourself into being his friend, Giorno. All he really picks up on is Giorno's worry-- and the fact that Fugo is, apparently, ill.]
That's a relief. In spite of the circumstances, I guess. [distantly, he wonders how he'd feel with one of his own, here-- his cousin, battling with his newfound free will, one of his friends, torn from their own missions into this new and foreign one. He wouldn't wish being consigned into this upon them on principle, no matter how much good it's brought him.]
[His brows knit. That isn't what he meant at all, but now he's worried. Maybe he's said something wrong; maybe he's overstepped--and even if he hasn't, he isn't at all sure how to explain.]
It's neither. It's--
[A sharp frown.]
I don't know that he'd want me to say. It isn't . . . mine to share.
[But he seems torn. Would Fugo share with anyone on his own? It's so unlikely.]
As long as he's safe. You don't need to say it to help him with whatever burden he's got.
[He pauses to take a thoughtful sip from his cup of tea.]
I've been meaning to tell you for a while, Giorno. When you first told me about him, I really... felt it. How much you cared about him. [The weight of responsibility he's certain Giorno feels heavy upon his shoulders, but bears anyway, out of love.] He's really lucky to have you.
[The respect--the kindness--leaves him off-balance. The surprise of it shows him on his face, even if only for a moment, the set of his mouth looser and less controlled.]
[It's because he's so confused that he answers the way he does: honestly.]
Somebody should.
[Care about him, he means. And he's immediately upset with himself for saying it. Why is Jin suddenly good at getting him to talk about his feelings? It's terrible.]
[He opens his mouth to say Fugo doesn't think he's lucky, but ends up just shaking his head. He shouldn't say . . . any of that. He doesn't want Fugo to feel any more vulnerable than he already does. He wants so badly to protect him, more than anything else in the world (other than the world itself).]
[When the posturing falls away from Kung Jin, this is what the bluntness becomes: plain, unvarnished truth. He thinks nothing of it, because what else would he do, other than to speak his mind?]
You want to protect him, don't you. [Jin states simply, catching that nuance left unsaid. It doesn't take a lot to gather that much, though.] I know how that feels. It's like you know you can't keep anything bad from happening to him, but you wish th--
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I'll go back inside.
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[Which is where he'll be, a cup of coffee in his lap, a cup of tea on the little table under his loft. Both beds are empty, neatly made. Actually, everything's neat, except for the little pile of bobby pins on the other corner of the table.]
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The inside is put together. More than he'd guess at from a teenage boy-- but then again, Giorno Giovanna is no ordinary teenage boy. The reminder of the fact draws back that general feeling of sheepishness that comes along with being repeatedly, well. Schooled by Giorno, and his voice when he responds is gruff out of, mostly, embarrassment.
He doesn't talk about himself like this. He rarely deals with any feelings quite like this, either. Kung Jin is all pride and strength and stubbornness and justice: never any good at matters of the heart, not ever.]
...Do you get why all of that is a problem.
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[No, okay, he doesn't say that. He doesn't actually want Jin to shut down. It's just funny, to him, that Jin thinks this is a terribly unique problem. Or that misogyny is the reserve of straight men, but you know. We take baby steps here.]
[He sips his coffee, then glances towards Jin and, in a seamless move, slips up onto the edge of the table and nudges the chair out with his toe.]
Of course I do. Sit. Drink your tea.
[It smells like flowers in here, and old library books.]
god bless you anne
The cup radiating heat in his hands, the mingling aroma of flowers, books with dog-eared, torn pages-- there's a calming effect on him. He doesn't know Giorno especially well, nor is there any way for Giorno to know how many hours Jin breathed in this same paper scent in the rows and rows of the Shaolin's archives. He expects that this was pretty well intentional, anyway. Giorno is definitely that type.
Jin takes a quiet sip. He peers across the table at Giorno expectantly.]
jFJLKDS WHAT DID I DO
[This is the best way he knows to help. He isn't sure it's going to work, but he cares about Jin enough to want to try.]
I'm not going to bite you.
[#vampirejoke. He pulls himself further up onto the desk, crosses his legs on the edge like it's a sofa, and cups his coffee in both hands.]
You're upset about a lot of different things. I think there was a question in there, too. Where do you want to start?
bracket roasted him. a good.
[He inhales a little of the steam coming off the surface of the tea. Perhaps it's less intent, on Giorno's behalf, and more intuition. The kid's not a mind-reader, as far as he knows (and he has met mind-readers, real unsubtle bunch).
Hopefully, it's a good sign that he's become a bit less inscrutable to Giorno. That's something like consistency: soothing, oddly, right along with the tea.
Jin blinks, lowering his eyes. He's honest. There's no longer any use in giving anything but that.] Even if getting dragged around all the wrong places by your heart feels a lot like it.
you know i'm always here to roast jin
[It's clear, too, that he feels safe with Jin. Something subtle in the posture, the way he lets himself clamber around in a way that's a little more childlike. His nails drum on the side of his mug.]
Mm, well. You know I have an opinion on everything. Mostly, I just think people are complicated. Feelings are complicated. Feelings are stupid.
[Look at him, deliberately not looking at Fugo's loft bed, or the drawer where he keeps his gun, or . . .]
They're hard to stop, though.
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(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.
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I know you do. And he cares about you, no matter how much you're worrying him. Which is a lot. He wouldn't stop talking about it the first time we talked.
[His tone is fond. It was a good foot for him and Asher to get off on. Much better than pretty much any other foot, honestly.]
Even if nothing comes of it, it's a good feeling. Just-- [He rests his knuckles against his chest.] Warm. [And those are the best words he has to describe it, really.]
[. . . But then.]
You did sound a little desperate, though. [OH WAIT THERE IT IS.]
1/2
Men are confusing and I hate them.
2/2
He's not prepared for that. Friendship had been a journey in and of itself. Even for Jin, the risk seems nearly incalculable.]
After I got hurt on the field. That was the first time you'd talked?
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Men are inexplicable and stupid, Jin. That's just a fact.
[But then, more pensively:] It was, yes. It was actually a very nice conversation, once I got over the username, which took some doing. The way he talked about you reminded me of the way I talk about a friend of mine.
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[Believe him, he's dealt with the username??? He can just change it...]
Is that the same friend you told me about, the one you made a promise to?
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[Because Giorno Giovanna #getsaround. He smiles faintly at nothing much and sips his coffee.]
You were right about that anyway. But no, this is someone else who used to be very self-sacrificing before I convinced him not to be.
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The warmth in Giorno's face shows that he cares
fivefor this stupid boy just as much, and the smile's contagious.] Must be an epidemic among dumb guys. You should tell me about this one too.[...]
After you explain that. What do you mean, I was right?
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[He blinks and looks up at Jin over the rim of his mug. Oh. Right. He just sort of assumed that everyone knew Fugo was here and was as overjoyed about it as he is. Except Kaz, nothing makes Kaz happy.]
Oh. You were right. I get to keep my promise, because he showed up here.
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His expression brightens, and he smiles, genuinely pleased at that bit of good news.]
So that was him. I was wondering whether that was the case. How's he doing?
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[After a few moments, his sudden sharp frown evens out.]
. . . Decently. He knows he's not alone now, which helps.
He isn't well. But he's not as unwell as he could be, I suppose.
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That's a relief. In spite of the circumstances, I guess. [distantly, he wonders how he'd feel with one of his own, here-- his cousin, battling with his newfound free will, one of his friends, torn from their own missions into this new and foreign one. He wouldn't wish being consigned into this upon them on principle, no matter how much good it's brought him.]
Is it an injury? Or some sort of illness.
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It's neither. It's--
[A sharp frown.]
I don't know that he'd want me to say. It isn't . . . mine to share.
[But he seems torn. Would Fugo share with anyone on his own? It's so unlikely.]
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As long as he's safe. You don't need to say it to help him with whatever burden he's got.
[He pauses to take a thoughtful sip from his cup of tea.]
I've been meaning to tell you for a while, Giorno. When you first told me about him, I really... felt it. How much you cared about him. [The weight of responsibility he's certain Giorno feels heavy upon his shoulders, but bears anyway, out of love.] He's really lucky to have you.
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[It's because he's so confused that he answers the way he does: honestly.]
Somebody should.
[Care about him, he means. And he's immediately upset with himself for saying it. Why is Jin suddenly good at getting him to talk about his feelings? It's terrible.]
[He opens his mouth to say Fugo doesn't think he's lucky, but ends up just shaking his head. He shouldn't say . . . any of that. He doesn't want Fugo to feel any more vulnerable than he already does. He wants so badly to protect him, more than anything else in the world (other than the world itself).]
1/3 im sorry giorno.
You want to protect him, don't you. [Jin states simply, catching that nuance left unsaid. It doesn't take a lot to gather that much, though.] I know how that feels. It's like you know you can't keep anything bad from happening to him, but you wish th--
2/3
3/3 whens my 7 pages of muda
soon icly 5 sure
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1/??????????????? ? ? ? ? ?
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whoops that's done
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im a nerd i kno leave me be
never
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