[...somehow, that tepid acceptance works far more than any pleas to open up does. Giorno's managed to make him feel guilty for once instead of vindicated that he can't trust him. Sigh.
Sigh...
It takes a few minutes to force himself into a response. A few long, torturous minutes. But if he's going to try and share himself with another person, he may as well get some practice in with someone he knows as well as himself.]
[That's not that surprising. It's not surprising at all, in fact. Mettaton is . . . it's not that he's transparent, exactly. It's just that he speaks a language that most people don't understand, a language of smoke and mirrors that's usually enough to distract from the actual issue.]
[Giorno's not going to say any of that, though. It's not a failing to have someone see you. Not even if it hurts. And he especially doesn't want to convey any kind of pity. It's a good thing for both of them this is such a relatively removed form of communication.]
i hate when they sneak up feelings i mean
[His words are carefully chosen to indicate: they can still talk in broad strokes, unspecifics, if that's easier; they can move in any direction, because Mettaton isn't trapped in this line of conversation. It doesn't even occur to him to judge. They can enthrall men with their power--he's a hypocrite, but not enough of one to act like he doesn't understand that.]
"Sneaking up" is definitely one way of putting it. "Stabbing you in the shower when you had a busy day planned" is another. [He could practically hear the dramatic death-violins playing in his head when he realized he actually liked looking at that idiot's smile. That he enjoyed listening to him laugh or memorized the exact shade of his eyes in multiple lightings.
He's dragging his fingers across his face, rolling about on his bed like a tortured child. Everything hurts. Everything is awful. Whoever invented feelings sucks.]
[Ordinarily he'd accuse the other person in this kind of conversation of changing the subject, with a line like that. But in this case . . . no. No, it's something else. And anyway, he's too tired to argue.]
naturally
[A pause, then, of several long moments.]
i lived my whole life thinking i could be cold and distant and strong and then i let someone in by accident and now cold and distant feels so awful sometimes i feel like i'd give anything to go back to how things were and sometimes i think that would be the worst kind of torture
i don't want to act as though everything i feel is the same as what you're feeling i just my experience is that it's devastating, thinking you're all you need and realizing that's not true
But isn't it so much easier to only have to worry about yourself? Haha. I mean. You can't disappoint someone if they don't know anything about you, right? If they don't expect anything from you aside from what you give everyone else?
[Oh. Well. That's . . . that's a question, all right.]
a lot. but not nearly everything. there are a lot of things i think i'd like to convince myself i'll tell him someday. but i don't want to. i really don't.
it's really strange how sometimes it's easier to be perfect and--for me, at least, inhuman. than to let people touch you.
yes. yes, it's a lot easier. i don't know that it's better, though.
it's hard to explain because i don't entirely understand it myself. not really. but
sometimes, when we're talking about something he does know about me--one of the awful things--when we're talking about that, and he looks at me, and i can tell he knows, and i'm ready for it to hurt, and for him to leave
but instead he just looks at me and i can tell he still cares, and despite all of that, or even because of it, he likes me, and he doesn't leave
[On the other end of the line, Giorno's brow knits. Someone . . . hurt Mettaton? On purpose? Well, no, it doesn't sound like it was on purpose. Exactly. Just . . . selfish.]
[He frowns sharply and tries to focus objectively.]
one of the things is
fugo and i, i know it doesn't seem like it. but we're very similar. so sometimes--most of the time, i think it's easier for him to understand me than it is for most people to understand another person. but sometimes it doesn't work like that. sometimes
there's a girl at home who i didn't understand for a long while. because she was too much like me in a different way. so she did things that i thought meant something other than what they did. we just didn't understand each other, not until in the end it all clicked. and now she's probably my best friend.
it might not be that kind of thing now. but it might be.
[. . .]
i'm sorry he did the wrong thing, though that's awful and i sort of want to know who he is so i can teach him a lesson
Mettaton's back to briefly rubbing at his face before taking the stolen glasses out of his storage. They're big and round, featureless like ghost eyes.
He spins them around on his finger.]
Oh, no. He already feels guilty about it. I made sure of that. [Pointedly. And at length.]
I'm glad you and Fugo have each other.
[At least there's that...]
Like I said, sweetheart. I'll keep thinking about it. Not much else here to do, huh?
[It's a very crisp and concise statement. He's usually wordy, but not over this. He is Truth coming out of her well to shame mankind. Don't fuck with his clique.]
i guess not
i'm glad you talked to me though i like you and i think you deserve to be happy so if i can help or just listen, i want to
[Bruno would want that, too, he thinks. Bruno would be just as exasperated by Mettaton as anyone, but at the same time . . . Giorno's pretty sure he would feel for him, too.]
do you want me to bring you something pretty later? or do you want to be alone
[This is not true. Giorno will get Mettaton something incredibly thoughtful. This is his secret power: he watches people, and he studies them, and that way when he needs to apply pressure, for positive or negative purposes, he knows exactly what to use.]
[Mettaton is fascinated with life. He'll make flowers. He'll tell Mettaton what each of them means, every piece of the endless bottomless bouquet he can make if he wants to, the ones that mean love and the ones that mean hate and the ones that mean a thousand little complicated and passive-aggressive things. He'll explain how, once upon a time, everyone was expected to keep their emotions so terribly buttoned-up that the only way to explain them was through the silent and delicate petals of voiceless plants.]
[They'll laugh at the Victorian era together. And then Giorno will pick out the flowers that mean beauty and strength, and those will be for Mettaton, because of course they will. Nothing else is good enough.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Their lives are maddening chaos and they both hate themselves, not that he's going to say that. It's not like he knows. Not knows knows.]
but if you say nothing's wrong then i won't pester you
i worry a lot that's all
no subject
Sigh...
It takes a few minutes to force himself into a response. A few long, torturous minutes. But if he's going to try and share himself with another person, he may as well get some practice in with someone he knows as well as himself.]
I wasn't talking about a script.
I was talking about me.
no subject
[Giorno's not going to say any of that, though. It's not a failing to have someone see you. Not even if it hurts. And he especially doesn't want to convey any kind of pity. It's a good thing for both of them this is such a relatively removed form of communication.]
i hate when they sneak up
feelings i mean
[His words are carefully chosen to indicate: they can still talk in broad strokes, unspecifics, if that's easier; they can move in any direction, because Mettaton isn't trapped in this line of conversation. It doesn't even occur to him to judge. They can enthrall men with their power--he's a hypocrite, but not enough of one to act like he doesn't understand that.]
no subject
He's dragging his fingers across his face, rolling about on his bed like a tortured child. Everything hurts. Everything is awful. Whoever invented feelings sucks.]
Are you speaking from experience?
no subject
naturally
[A pause, then, of several long moments.]
i lived my whole life thinking i could be cold and distant and strong
and then i let someone in by accident and now cold and distant feels so awful
sometimes i feel like i'd give anything to go back to how things were and sometimes i think that would be the worst kind of torture
i don't want to act as though everything i feel is the same as what you're feeling
i just
my experience is that it's devastating, thinking you're all you need and realizing that's not true
no subject
How much does Fugo know about you?
no subject
a lot. but not nearly everything. there are a lot of things i think i'd like to convince myself i'll tell him someday. but i don't want to. i really don't.
it's really strange how sometimes it's easier to be perfect and--for me, at least, inhuman. than to let people touch you.
yes. yes, it's a lot easier. i don't know that it's better, though.
no subject
no subject
i'm worried he'd hate me
some days i'm certain he would
no subject
no subject
it's hard to explain because i don't entirely understand it myself. not really. but
sometimes, when we're talking about something he does know about me--one of the awful things--when we're talking about that, and he looks at me, and i can tell he knows, and i'm ready for it to hurt, and for him to leave
but instead he just looks at me and i can tell he still cares, and despite all of that, or even because of it, he likes me, and he doesn't leave
that's
what makes it worth it
to me
no subject
This person. I tried to tell him something about myself. Something I don't really talk about with anyone.
He ignored it. He actually did the opposite of what would have helped in that situation.
He's... kind of apologized for it. But I don't think I can trust him with anything deeper if I know that's his instinctual response.
no subject
[He frowns sharply and tries to focus objectively.]
one of the things is
fugo and i, i know it doesn't seem like it. but we're very similar. so sometimes--most of the time, i think it's easier for him to understand me than it is for most people to understand another person. but sometimes it doesn't work like that. sometimes
there's a girl at home who i didn't understand for a long while. because she was too much like me in a different way. so she did things that i thought meant something other than what they did. we just didn't understand each other, not until in the end it all clicked. and now she's probably my best friend.
it might not be that kind of thing now. but it might be.
[. . .]
i'm sorry he did the wrong thing, though
that's awful and i sort of want to know who he is so i can teach him a lesson
no subject
Mettaton's back to briefly rubbing at his face before taking the stolen glasses out of his storage. They're big and round, featureless like ghost eyes.
He spins them around on his finger.]
Oh, no. He already feels guilty about it. I made sure of that. [Pointedly. And at length.]
I'm glad you and Fugo have each other.
[At least there's that...]
Like I said, sweetheart. I'll keep thinking about it. Not much else here to do, huh?
no subject
[It's a very crisp and concise statement. He's usually wordy, but not over this. He is Truth coming out of her well to shame mankind. Don't fuck with his clique.]
i guess not
i'm glad you talked to me though
i like you and i think you deserve to be happy so if i can help or just listen, i want to
[Bruno would want that, too, he thinks. Bruno would be just as exasperated by Mettaton as anyone, but at the same time . . . Giorno's pretty sure he would feel for him, too.]
do you want me to bring you something pretty later? or do you want to be alone
no subject
[He's joking again. It's always easier, in a way, to slip back to his more charming stage-persona. He's been doing it almost all his life.
...so. This was nice. Talking to someone who doesn't judge him when the mask drops. Someone who's wearing the exact same mask themselves.
He really does need to get Giorno something. Another time, he'll need to ask for his birthday. That'll really be a celebration.]
But you know I can't turn down a gift. Whenever you want to see me, sunshine, I'll be here.
And Gigi?
Thank you.
no subject
[This is not true. Giorno will get Mettaton something incredibly thoughtful. This is his secret power: he watches people, and he studies them, and that way when he needs to apply pressure, for positive or negative purposes, he knows exactly what to use.]
[Mettaton is fascinated with life. He'll make flowers. He'll tell Mettaton what each of them means, every piece of the endless bottomless bouquet he can make if he wants to, the ones that mean love and the ones that mean hate and the ones that mean a thousand little complicated and passive-aggressive things. He'll explain how, once upon a time, everyone was expected to keep their emotions so terribly buttoned-up that the only way to explain them was through the silent and delicate petals of voiceless plants.]
[They'll laugh at the Victorian era together. And then Giorno will pick out the flowers that mean beauty and strength, and those will be for Mettaton, because of course they will. Nothing else is good enough.]
you're welcome (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*。 always welcome