[Surprise and puzzlement flicker across Fugo's face when Giorno slips his hand out of their grasp-- until it occurs to him that Giorno's picked up on his fidgeting and rather than telling him to be still or tolerating it, by letting go and giving him that little measure of comfort is saying it's fine if you need to. His relief is plain and instant, in a strange and watery smile and the way he holds himself a little less tightly. His now-free hand drops down to his knee and his fingers tap an invisible and silent scale, lightly rolling from his thumb to his pinky.]
Thank you. [He says this first, because it's important to him to acknowledge the gesture. He wants to Giorno to know how much it means to him, because all of a sudden it feels like everything. He looks up at Giorno's face when Giorno reaches up for his hair. He's gotten a little more used to the feeling of Giorno's fingers brushing through his hair; has started to associate it with the quiet time they spend together in the evenings, sometimes talking and sometimes reading and sometimes saying nothing at all. So it is soothing. What flusters him isn't Giorno, but his own words that tumble out of his mouth before he can stop to think them over:] Do you want me to move around so you can reach better?
[Unfortunately, it only occurs to him that this is an embarrassing suggestion after he says it. So he has nobody to blame that he's pink around the ears but himself, which unfortunately makes it a little worse. To cover his own fluster, Fugo twists his mouth and stubbornly continues on.]
It's very frustrating to me because all of them are... [He lifts his fidgeting hand and gestures vaguely with it.] Each one on their own is intense, but all together they're just a mess. I wish I could just feel one at a time. Or make one of them go away until the other one is finished.
[He hesitates, gaze restlessly flicking to the side before he makes himself look directly at Giorno, and quietly admits:] I've never felt safe talking like this. I've always worried about saying the wrong thing or something that I shouldn't. But with you it's different. It isn't easy-- but it's not impossible, either.
no subject
Thank you. [He says this first, because it's important to him to acknowledge the gesture. He wants to Giorno to know how much it means to him, because all of a sudden it feels like everything. He looks up at Giorno's face when Giorno reaches up for his hair. He's gotten a little more used to the feeling of Giorno's fingers brushing through his hair; has started to associate it with the quiet time they spend together in the evenings, sometimes talking and sometimes reading and sometimes saying nothing at all. So it is soothing. What flusters him isn't Giorno, but his own words that tumble out of his mouth before he can stop to think them over:] Do you want me to move around so you can reach better?
[Unfortunately, it only occurs to him that this is an embarrassing suggestion after he says it. So he has nobody to blame that he's pink around the ears but himself, which unfortunately makes it a little worse. To cover his own fluster, Fugo twists his mouth and stubbornly continues on.]
It's very frustrating to me because all of them are... [He lifts his fidgeting hand and gestures vaguely with it.] Each one on their own is intense, but all together they're just a mess. I wish I could just feel one at a time. Or make one of them go away until the other one is finished.
[He hesitates, gaze restlessly flicking to the side before he makes himself look directly at Giorno, and quietly admits:] I've never felt safe talking like this. I've always worried about saying the wrong thing or something that I shouldn't. But with you it's different. It isn't easy-- but it's not impossible, either.