[It's a good question. What does being angry actually do? Giorno doesn't get angry often, so it's not something he's had to consider very much. But anger, like grief, is something that you can't just wish away or pretend doesn't exist.]
[Besides, Bruno was angry. He disagreed and he was angry. Whatever he is now is some artificial state of unfeeling, and that's something Giorno can't quite accept in the same way he can't accept lying to Abbacchio, in the same way he knows that Bruno's life after his first encounter with King Crimson was, in some way, false, that he died then and Giorno never really brought him back at all.]
Things like anger . . . and grief, and regret. Those are the things that make us human. They're the things that prove that we're alive.
[That, he thinks, is what anger does. Isn't that reason enough?]
[He's projecting. That's Bruno's first thought and instinct. And why wouldn't he? It's not as though Giorno has had the space here or back home to process. What time was there? If he didn't rise to take over Passione, someone else would have, and God only knows if they might have been worse than Diavolo. He had to push his feelings back and attend immediately to business, to projecting that image of a competent and untouchable don that bore no weaknesses.]
[But that Giorno is projecting is only half of the truth. The calm neutrality that Bruno is presenting now is a practiced image. It's not one that he's completely fabricated, but that doesn't mean it's always a true reflection of his inner-workings either. Bruno's jaw tightens and relaxes, a single ripple over otherwise still waters. He feels that increasingly familiar urge to reach out for his pulse because that choice of words--they're the things that prove that we're alive--was no coincidence. Giorno has been and is still pushing too much for that to slip past Bruno's notice, especially now when he's cleared his head of otherwise disorienting anger and whatever else.]
[But he doesn't move so much as a muscle to feel for his pulse. That feels too much like an admission, like surrender. Of and to what this might be, Bruno doesn't know and he's not about to try and figure that out here and now in front of Giorno. He can't quite stop his attention from drifting towards his own breath, in and out, but he keeps his hands still.]
Things that prove you are alive.
[Even when placing emphasis on his correction, emotion doesn't creep even into the edges of Bruno's words. There's no even a touch of bitterness or spite. There's not even a trace of regret or despair. It's a simple correction delivered in a patient way one might correct a child on their school lessons when they've confused facts.]
Nothing has changed, Giorno. You might not want to, but you need to accept that. Whatever this is, it's temporary at best.
[Bruno's time came and went. Being here cannot and does not change that fact, no matter how much Giorno may want it to.]
[...]
[...No matter how much Bruno may want it to sometimes beneath that calm veneer and the storm of anxieties he must silence nearly every day.]
[He was . . . sort of expecting that. As soon as he said it - no, before he said it - he knew that this was one of the ways this might turn out. It's not fair, certainly, that he's treating this conversation like a chess game, planning out moves for all eventualities, but that's simply how it is. Bruno's unwillingness to take care of himself is--]
[It's dangerous, isn't it? For all of them. They need him, whether he thinks they do or not. If he weren't there, they would all survive, but since he is here, it's vitally imperative that he take care of himself as well as the rest of them. If he's going to be here, if he's going to be alive with them, he's going to have to be safe.]
[This isn't safety. This, this numbness - it's a good way to get yourself hurt and not even notice it, because you don't allow yourself to notice anything.]
[Which isn't to say hearing it out loud isn't excruciating. The ever-so-slight emphasis on that correction, you, it feels like someone's reached into his chest and pulled out his heart. But that's okay, maybe. Maybe that's his job, maybe that's part of what being don is, that you have extra hearts tucked away, that you get all the chances and carry all the pain and suffer for your people so that maybe they can suffer just a little bit less.]
[He'd be so happy if that was something he could do. For Mista, for Bruno, for Abbacchio. It's right.]
Every minute of every day that I spend with you changes me, Bruno. That's what happens when you're with family.
[Dead or alive - in that sense, it doesn't matter. He wouldn't tell Izabel that her existence here didn't matter, or Kakyoin. Only himself. He is the only exception.]
[Giorno will not allow that for much longer.]
[He rests his hand lightly at the back of Bruno's upper arm, squeezing lightly. It's a similar gesture to the one he made by accident a few weeks ago, when he was telling secrets. You're walking with a dead man, Bruno had said, and it scared him so much. But it just isn't true.]
[He won't push anymore, he thinks. Not today. But he won't let himself be scared of a lie anymore, either.]
[Giorno has no way of knowing it. Bruno keeps these things to himself too much for Giorno to know. But he's given voice exactly to one of Bruno's fears.]
[There's never been any doubt in Bruno's mind that some day, Giorno will go back. Giorno has a way of finding his place, where he is meant and supposed to be. This will be no exception. But there is no going back for Bruno. There's this and there's oblivion. (The latter does not terrify him in the least. If anything, there's something oddly comforting about know what exactly awaits him on the other side of this place rather than having to stare down an unknown element.) But Giorno is returning to a life that comes with responsibilities and dangers that he has to be always prepared to handle. One misstep may not only mean his demise, but that of Trish, Mista, and anyone else who swore loyalty and meant it. Bruno holding any influence over Giorno and Giorno holding onto his attachments to Bruno disrupts Giorno's natural growth, the path he is meant to walk.]
[Bruno recognizes there's the potential that it's a good thing or at least parts of it can be good. He trusts his own instincts and has been at the business of looking after others for a long time now, after all. But it's a fine line--perhaps finer than Giorno wants to recognize--between being helpful and fostering responsibility over and dependency with someone who is no longer there and cannot matter in the same way anymore.]
[But, of course, Bruno gives no voice to these concerns himself. He sits with them on his own even as Giorno places a hand on the back of his arm. Even as Bruno covers that hand with one of his own because just a couple months ago, he wouldn't have been aware of the touch at all. Because Giorno touches him more frequently lately as little reminders that Bruno is there. He touches back for Giorno, his hand falling away before it can become self-indulgent.]
I'd like to see this family whole again.
[Even if only for a little while.]
I can't make any guarantees or promises that Abbacchio will stop blaming you or learn to forgive you. But if he's going to stop resenting you, you have to stop giving him permission. [He looks over at Giorno again finally.] To do that, you're going to have to stop blaming yourself as much.
[He has no way of knowing what Bruno is thinking. Of course he doesn't. He's powerful, but not omnipotent; he can't know that, no matter how much he might want to. What he does know is that Bruno is vulnerable right now, vulnerable and angry, no matter how much he might want to paint himself otherwise. If he were a crueller person, he could probably crack him open with very little effort.]
[But this is enough for today. This, for this moment, after everything that's happened, is enough. He squeezes Bruno's arm again, meets his eyes, and nods, because - it's true. They were both right. And there's nothing more important than family, is there?]
Would you believe me if I said that I was trying? That I'm doing better than I was.
[Which is the truth. He is trying, every day, so hard.]
[Bruno says this easily with a small nod. Even if he wasn't trying, time would allow for him to do better. Time doesn't heal all wounds as the old saying goes, but it certainly makes it easier to bear them after a while.]
[But he believes Giorno when he says he's trying. Trying doesn't mean getting it right or not making mistakes. It simply means trying. It would be ideal for him to get it right the first time, to absolve himself of the guilt and blame he carries that he doesn't need to, but everyone must start somewhere.]
The space is for your sake, too, you know. Until it gets easier.
[Abbacchio may more blatantly need the space, but that doesn't mean Giorno didn't need time to adjust himself. It's not a one-way relationship where Abbacchio needs to learn to cope with the changes to the hierarchy. Giorno needs time to settle into having someone who will blatantly disagree (admittedly sometimes out of childish pettiness) and how to listen without patronizing or getting wrapped up in the emotions behind it.]
[That actually manages to take him by surprise. To his credit, he realizes as soon as it does that it shouldn't have - that the assumption that he doesn't need time to settle into a reality that contains Abbacchio again is another example of him blaming himself, really, refusing to allow himself space to grieve.]
[He told Abbacchio that it was good to see him again. He meant that. It's good to see him, even though it hurts. He can't tell if Abbacchio is angry about that because he thinks it's a lie or because he thinks it's true.]
[He breathes in sharply, out through his nose, then nods, letting his hand fall back to his side.]
Thank you. I . . . [Well. Why lie?] I think I needed to hear that.
[Because he is hurt. He is grieving. He does need time to heal, even if it's quietly and subtly and in his own way. Just because they're different, so different, doesn't mean that none of their needs overlap.]
Mista will take care of me. Like he always does.
[He glances at Bruno then, tips his chin up with a mix of hope and certainty in his eyes, and his expression says And you will take care of Abbacchio, like you always do.]
[There are a number of things Giorno probably needs to hear, Bruno muses. He acts the part of a man and does well at it, but he is still a boy at the end of the day. It's that particular fact that Giorno forgets with a great deal of frequency as does everyone in Bruno's team. It's safer, usually, for them to avoid it and think of themselves as men. It's far more empowering to buy into the image of someone who is capable and strong until it becomes tangible. Most of the time, Bruno is content to allow this to rest. But Giorno must be more self-aware, more mindful of himself than others with his position because others certainly will be.]
[As for when it comes to Abbacchio's well-being, Giorno doesn't have much to worry about so long as Bruno is there. But Bruno doesn't bother making promises for givens. Instead, his lips curve just ever so slightly in faint amusement.]
As I'm sure he won't hesitate to tell me himself when I speak to him again.
[Never let it be said that Mista isn't fully aware of what he's supposed to do and damn proud of it.]
[He is learning. He is trying. But there are only so many steps you can take at once before you trip over yourself. So he tries and tries, but he doesn't reach perfection immediately - and because of who he is, that frustrates him. He tries to act like a man, a leader, and most of the time he does very well, but not always; that frustrates him, too.]
[Someday he'll allow himself to be imperfect. Until then, he needs reminders.]
I think he forgets that it's my job to take care of him, too.
Well, you know Mista. His attention is sometimes a little difficult to maintain on more than one thing at a time. [Which can be both a good and bad thing. And more often than not at least mildly entertaining.] As long as you don't forget, that's what will matter the most.
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[Besides, Bruno was angry. He disagreed and he was angry. Whatever he is now is some artificial state of unfeeling, and that's something Giorno can't quite accept in the same way he can't accept lying to Abbacchio, in the same way he knows that Bruno's life after his first encounter with King Crimson was, in some way, false, that he died then and Giorno never really brought him back at all.]
Things like anger . . . and grief, and regret. Those are the things that make us human. They're the things that prove that we're alive.
[That, he thinks, is what anger does. Isn't that reason enough?]
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[But that Giorno is projecting is only half of the truth. The calm neutrality that Bruno is presenting now is a practiced image. It's not one that he's completely fabricated, but that doesn't mean it's always a true reflection of his inner-workings either. Bruno's jaw tightens and relaxes, a single ripple over otherwise still waters. He feels that increasingly familiar urge to reach out for his pulse because that choice of words--they're the things that prove that we're alive--was no coincidence. Giorno has been and is still pushing too much for that to slip past Bruno's notice, especially now when he's cleared his head of otherwise disorienting anger and whatever else.]
[But he doesn't move so much as a muscle to feel for his pulse. That feels too much like an admission, like surrender. Of and to what this might be, Bruno doesn't know and he's not about to try and figure that out here and now in front of Giorno. He can't quite stop his attention from drifting towards his own breath, in and out, but he keeps his hands still.]
Things that prove you are alive.
[Even when placing emphasis on his correction, emotion doesn't creep even into the edges of Bruno's words. There's no even a touch of bitterness or spite. There's not even a trace of regret or despair. It's a simple correction delivered in a patient way one might correct a child on their school lessons when they've confused facts.]
Nothing has changed, Giorno. You might not want to, but you need to accept that. Whatever this is, it's temporary at best.
[Bruno's time came and went. Being here cannot and does not change that fact, no matter how much Giorno may want it to.]
[...]
[...No matter how much Bruno may want it to sometimes beneath that calm veneer and the storm of anxieties he must silence nearly every day.]
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[It's dangerous, isn't it? For all of them. They need him, whether he thinks they do or not. If he weren't there, they would all survive, but since he is here, it's vitally imperative that he take care of himself as well as the rest of them. If he's going to be here, if he's going to be alive with them, he's going to have to be safe.]
[This isn't safety. This, this numbness - it's a good way to get yourself hurt and not even notice it, because you don't allow yourself to notice anything.]
[Which isn't to say hearing it out loud isn't excruciating. The ever-so-slight emphasis on that correction, you, it feels like someone's reached into his chest and pulled out his heart. But that's okay, maybe. Maybe that's his job, maybe that's part of what being don is, that you have extra hearts tucked away, that you get all the chances and carry all the pain and suffer for your people so that maybe they can suffer just a little bit less.]
[He'd be so happy if that was something he could do. For Mista, for Bruno, for Abbacchio. It's right.]
Every minute of every day that I spend with you changes me, Bruno. That's what happens when you're with family.
[Dead or alive - in that sense, it doesn't matter. He wouldn't tell Izabel that her existence here didn't matter, or Kakyoin. Only himself. He is the only exception.]
[Giorno will not allow that for much longer.]
[He rests his hand lightly at the back of Bruno's upper arm, squeezing lightly. It's a similar gesture to the one he made by accident a few weeks ago, when he was telling secrets. You're walking with a dead man, Bruno had said, and it scared him so much. But it just isn't true.]
[He won't push anymore, he thinks. Not today. But he won't let himself be scared of a lie anymore, either.]
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[There's never been any doubt in Bruno's mind that some day, Giorno will go back. Giorno has a way of finding his place, where he is meant and supposed to be. This will be no exception. But there is no going back for Bruno. There's this and there's oblivion. (The latter does not terrify him in the least. If anything, there's something oddly comforting about know what exactly awaits him on the other side of this place rather than having to stare down an unknown element.) But Giorno is returning to a life that comes with responsibilities and dangers that he has to be always prepared to handle. One misstep may not only mean his demise, but that of Trish, Mista, and anyone else who swore loyalty and meant it. Bruno holding any influence over Giorno and Giorno holding onto his attachments to Bruno disrupts Giorno's natural growth, the path he is meant to walk.]
[Bruno recognizes there's the potential that it's a good thing or at least parts of it can be good. He trusts his own instincts and has been at the business of looking after others for a long time now, after all. But it's a fine line--perhaps finer than Giorno wants to recognize--between being helpful and fostering responsibility over and dependency with someone who is no longer there and cannot matter in the same way anymore.]
[But, of course, Bruno gives no voice to these concerns himself. He sits with them on his own even as Giorno places a hand on the back of his arm. Even as Bruno covers that hand with one of his own because just a couple months ago, he wouldn't have been aware of the touch at all. Because Giorno touches him more frequently lately as little reminders that Bruno is there. He touches back for Giorno, his hand falling away before it can become self-indulgent.]
I'd like to see this family whole again.
[Even if only for a little while.]
I can't make any guarantees or promises that Abbacchio will stop blaming you or learn to forgive you. But if he's going to stop resenting you, you have to stop giving him permission. [He looks over at Giorno again finally.] To do that, you're going to have to stop blaming yourself as much.
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[But this is enough for today. This, for this moment, after everything that's happened, is enough. He squeezes Bruno's arm again, meets his eyes, and nods, because - it's true. They were both right. And there's nothing more important than family, is there?]
Would you believe me if I said that I was trying? That I'm doing better than I was.
[Which is the truth. He is trying, every day, so hard.]
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[Bruno says this easily with a small nod. Even if he wasn't trying, time would allow for him to do better. Time doesn't heal all wounds as the old saying goes, but it certainly makes it easier to bear them after a while.]
[But he believes Giorno when he says he's trying. Trying doesn't mean getting it right or not making mistakes. It simply means trying. It would be ideal for him to get it right the first time, to absolve himself of the guilt and blame he carries that he doesn't need to, but everyone must start somewhere.]
The space is for your sake, too, you know. Until it gets easier.
[Abbacchio may more blatantly need the space, but that doesn't mean Giorno didn't need time to adjust himself. It's not a one-way relationship where Abbacchio needs to learn to cope with the changes to the hierarchy. Giorno needs time to settle into having someone who will blatantly disagree (admittedly sometimes out of childish pettiness) and how to listen without patronizing or getting wrapped up in the emotions behind it.]
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[He told Abbacchio that it was good to see him again. He meant that. It's good to see him, even though it hurts. He can't tell if Abbacchio is angry about that because he thinks it's a lie or because he thinks it's true.]
[He breathes in sharply, out through his nose, then nods, letting his hand fall back to his side.]
Thank you. I . . . [Well. Why lie?] I think I needed to hear that.
[Because he is hurt. He is grieving. He does need time to heal, even if it's quietly and subtly and in his own way. Just because they're different, so different, doesn't mean that none of their needs overlap.]
Mista will take care of me. Like he always does.
[He glances at Bruno then, tips his chin up with a mix of hope and certainty in his eyes, and his expression says And you will take care of Abbacchio, like you always do.]
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[As for when it comes to Abbacchio's well-being, Giorno doesn't have much to worry about so long as Bruno is there. But Bruno doesn't bother making promises for givens. Instead, his lips curve just ever so slightly in faint amusement.]
As I'm sure he won't hesitate to tell me himself when I speak to him again.
[Never let it be said that Mista isn't fully aware of what he's supposed to do and damn proud of it.]
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[Someday he'll allow himself to be imperfect. Until then, he needs reminders.]
I think he forgets that it's my job to take care of him, too.
[There's a common theme here, one might notice.]
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Well, you know Mista. His attention is sometimes a little difficult to maintain on more than one thing at a time. [Which can be both a good and bad thing. And more often than not at least mildly entertaining.] As long as you don't forget, that's what will matter the most.