[Grieving, when it comes to Abbacchio, is the correct term. Bruno thinks this, but gives no confirmation to it if only because he doesn't want his own thoughts to stray or linger too long in that direction. He can't, of course, stay away from them forever. Even he recognizes there's some inevitability of when everything will come crashing in. But he needs to stave it off as long as possible. He needs to be solid and stable for the sake of the others. And for himself as well.]
You should focus your attention on Izabel in the meanwhile. She was close with both of them.
[As for Fugo...]
[That's not as clear as to what they should do. Frankly, Bruno isn't of the mind to offer Fugo reassurances. Things are still up in the air between the two of them, awkward as ever, but that aside, Fugo is far more a private person than say Narancia. He's much more likely and capable of processing his feelings in private rather than attempting for any sort of connection with the rest. If it were up to him, Bruno would suggest simply making themselves available to Fugo if he needs or wants it, but to otherwise leave him be to process. However, he thinks perhaps that's something best left up to Giorno to decide.]
[Bruno steps further into the room, coming to sit on the couch. He sits closer to the edge, hunched over some to rest his elbows on his knees without being tense.]
[And it's instinct now, in a way it wasn't when he first got here, to cross the room and sit beside Bruno. Too close to be professional, but they have to be family now, even if it's in quiet ways, in ways that would be hard for a bystander to notice underneath the serious discussion.]
[Still, he doesn't touch. He holds his body boxed-in carefully, hands on his knees.]
And you?
[Which could mean any number of things; he's going to let Bruno interpret that as he chooses.]
[Bruno looks at Giorno for a moment or two out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn't look at him nor makes any motion to touch him when he comes to sit next to Bruno on the couch. The question, he realizes, is phrased in a way that leaves it up to interpretation, simultaneously making it an invitation and an escape. Frankly, he feels...exhausted. Just too exhausted to parse through what he's thinking and feeling, what he wants to say and what he doesn't. So for a moment, he says nothing until he feels he's able to say anything at all.]
I'll be here if Izabel needs me, but I'll be keeping a closer eye on Narancia. And if you need anything, Giorno...
[Yes, that's fair enough. This kind of avoidance - he wouldn't expect anything else, after all of this. And sitting here, looking at Bruno, there's more than just theorizing going on now; he knew this would be bad, but he's beginning to understand how bad exactly.]
[He will never be Abbacchio. He will never be anything like Abbacchio. He will never be as good for Bruno as Abbacchio is.]
[Was.]
[Grieving. He will grieve for Abbacchio now, but for Bruno, too, for the thing that's died in him.]
[He laces his fingers together, dangles them between his knees. His posture isn't a leader's now, even if his voice is still commanding.]
I would prefer not to be the focus right now. I don't believe that that will be a productive use of our time and energy. In a little while, maybe. Not now.
[Bruno makes a small hum of acknowledgement. He's willing to respect Giorno's wishes to a certain extent. While Bruno won't place his energy into keeping Giorno afloat as he asked, that doesn't mean he won't seek outside help. Already he plans to speak to Jotaro soon on the matter, to keep a close eye on Giorno.]
[But.]
[He sees that shift in Giorno's posture. He places a hand on Giorno's shoulder wordlessly, not out of pity or even to comfort him necessarily. Instead, it's a gesture of solidarity.]
[He sags a little, just a little. Maybe an inch, under the weight of Bruno's hand. It's a comfort, but he feels guilty about it. He shouldn't be taking right now. He should only be giving.]
[He does his best, then, to give in little ways - lays his hand over Bruno's on his shoulder.]
I'm here, you know.
[For him. For himself. Or for whatever there is between them, the comfort they can take from each other; if they can find the right balance between giving and taking so it's equal, then they can both be here. They can both have that, and maybe it'll be safe.]
[He knows and he won't forget that, but he also won't take Giorno up on that either. They both know that. But it's enough for Bruno to know that Giorno is there. He gives Giorno's shoulder a light squeeze.]
[It's enough, but it's not enough. And it's moments like this when he wishes he could just sink into Italian and Bruno's arms for hours and hours and maybe never come back to the real world. But he knows he can't. That even if he wanted to, it would be foolish and unwise.]
[He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment anyway, just for a moment.]
Sempre forte.
[And open again. Moment's over.]
I wonder if my saying anything to Narancia would be intrusive.
I don't think Narancia would mind, but I'm sure he'll let you know if he does.
[Giorno has not obviously known Narancia for even half as long as Bruno has known him and Narancia's loyalty and trust will always be greater in Bruno, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't have something significant with Giorno. It's something that should be encouraged to grow. It will be good for both of them.]
[I'm sure. Something conflicted and complicated passes across Giorno's expression at that. Bruno shouldn't have to be sure of everything right now. He should be allowed to just - feel.]
[But he won't, will he.]
[Somehow, that's what makes his eyes sting with unshed tears - and he hides it well, but not perfectly, not by a long shot.]
If I want to help you, will you just push it away? La nostra famiglia è ancora forte, ma siamo deboli soli.
Lo so. [Bruno is quiet a moment. It may even appear that is all he intends to say with how long the silence stretches. But he does end up speaking again.] Posso...cercare di non. Non posso promettere di più.
[Bruno pulls his hand away from Giorno's shoulder, letting his hands fold neatly in his lap as he sits back in his seat. Italian is easier now. It's familiar. It feels closer. So he stays with it for at least a little while longer.]
Ma ho bisogno di fidarsi di me. Ci si sente come se... [It's here that Bruno falters. In some ways, it feels like he is saying too much and also not enough. Words seem inadequate and it feels too great a thing to say right now, edging too close to something that Bruno cannot afford. But he's already on the edge of it, so he lets it fall out of himself in his usual quiet, reserved way.] Ci si sente come se ho perso il mio cuore, Giorno, ma...
[He looks to the side for a moment with just his eyes, blinks just once, and then looks ahead again. It's all he needs to tamp down on whatever was threatening to enter his expression and remain calm. Together. He turns his head a little to look at Giorno, his voice firm. He's not willing to compromise on this.]
Non adesso. Ho bisogno che tu fidi di me che ora non è il momento.
[He cries a little, then. Just a little, a tear or two, and in perfect silence; his breathing is even and calm. One can hardly even tell that he's crying, unless one looks closely, but then again Bruno always does.]
[It feels really unfair, making any kind of comparison, so he tries very hard not to. But that's what he feels, too, underneath it all. There's a cavity in his chest where his heart used to be.]
[The way he leans on Bruno's shoulder, it's as though he's a little afraid one or both of them will shatter when they touch. But neither of them do, in the end. They're both going to survive this, for better or for worse.]
Lo so.
[He breathes in, slow and careful; breathes out in a quiet gust.]
Mi fido di te. Mi fido della mia vita. Tu sei la mia famiglia. Vorrei solo che . . .
[A thousand things. He wishes a thousand things. I wish Trish were here. I wish bad things would stop happening. I wish I could bring the dead back for real. And Izabel would hate him for that.]
Vorrei solo che avrebbe potuto durare.
[A selfish thing to say. But true.]
Io non ti disturberò fino a quando il tempo è di destra. Ma si deve ricordare che ti voglio bene.
[It's...not exactly relief that Bruno feels. There's too much of everything else for him to feel relief that Giorno is willing to respect his wishes not to push right now. But it's something. A small modicum of a weight lifting off him that allows him to at least physically lean on Giorno even if he's not ready to do so emotionally or mentally. But there's something else that feels like a punch to the gut because it rings true.]
[I wish it could have lasted.]
[Bruno turns his head away for a moment, biting his lower lip and squeezing his eyes tight enough to see stars sparking behind his eyelids. He can't call the time a waste. He won't call it that. But when is he going to learn? Why was it only at the moment of his final death that he felt no regrets? Why is that so hard to capture, to hold onto in life? Bruno lets his breath go harshly through his nose and opens his eyes.]
Non potrei mai dimenticare. [So much could be taken from him--so much has--but he could not forget something as important as that.] Anch'io ti voglio bene.
[Somehow, with this, it clicks into place. Something, he doesn't know what, something he couldn't put a name to no matter how hard he tried, at least not yet. Just something, a piece of himself that he's been grasping for for so long. A fragment of the Don Giovanna.]
[Not quite absently, he reaches up and pets Bruno's hair, head leaned on his shoulder. Not careful anymore. Just close. Two exhausted children holding each other up.]
[It doesn't feel entirely right to take this kind of comfort from Giorno. It's a mixture of the fact that Bruno isn't in the habit of taking anything from anyone even when it's given to him freely and that Bruno is the elder of the two of them, so it shouldn't be up to Giorno to look after him in a way that makes Bruno feel closer to being a child than he's felt maybe for the entirety of his life without being condescended to. But Bruno doesn't try to pull away from it or discourage it. He lets it be. A moment of this is not so bad. Bruno shifts to wrap an arm around Giorno's shoulders.]
Grazie, Giorno.
[He doesn't specify for what. They'd probably be here for a long time if he tried.]
Troverà la strada per tornare a voi. Credo che. Il suo posto è al tuo fianco.
[It's true, this isn't entirely natural. Even with the comfort he's taking from it, he realizes that. There are so many rules they're meant to be following, rules to do with age and seniority and position, rules that cross over and contradict each other. Those rules make this kind of thing difficult, almost impossible.]
[But so few things that are worth it are easy. He's worked so hard, and for so long, to bend the rules to his own whims. Now that he's in a place where he can remake the rules exactly as he likes them, he's still bending under the weight of standards that should no longer apply to him.]
[No more of that. Bruno's arm around him feels like it's supposed to be there. He won't allow himself to second-guess that. He won't allow himself to second-guess the words, either; Bruno would never, ever lie to him. Not in a million lifetimes.]
[Instead, he just exhales slowly and shakily and nods, with his cheek pressed lightly against Bruno's shoulder.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
You should focus your attention on Izabel in the meanwhile. She was close with both of them.
[As for Fugo...]
[That's not as clear as to what they should do. Frankly, Bruno isn't of the mind to offer Fugo reassurances. Things are still up in the air between the two of them, awkward as ever, but that aside, Fugo is far more a private person than say Narancia. He's much more likely and capable of processing his feelings in private rather than attempting for any sort of connection with the rest. If it were up to him, Bruno would suggest simply making themselves available to Fugo if he needs or wants it, but to otherwise leave him be to process. However, he thinks perhaps that's something best left up to Giorno to decide.]
[Bruno steps further into the room, coming to sit on the couch. He sits closer to the edge, hunched over some to rest his elbows on his knees without being tense.]
no subject
[And it's instinct now, in a way it wasn't when he first got here, to cross the room and sit beside Bruno. Too close to be professional, but they have to be family now, even if it's in quiet ways, in ways that would be hard for a bystander to notice underneath the serious discussion.]
[Still, he doesn't touch. He holds his body boxed-in carefully, hands on his knees.]
And you?
[Which could mean any number of things; he's going to let Bruno interpret that as he chooses.]
no subject
I'll be here if Izabel needs me, but I'll be keeping a closer eye on Narancia. And if you need anything, Giorno...
no subject
[He will never be Abbacchio. He will never be anything like Abbacchio. He will never be as good for Bruno as Abbacchio is.]
[Was.]
[Grieving. He will grieve for Abbacchio now, but for Bruno, too, for the thing that's died in him.]
[He laces his fingers together, dangles them between his knees. His posture isn't a leader's now, even if his voice is still commanding.]
I would prefer not to be the focus right now. I don't believe that that will be a productive use of our time and energy. In a little while, maybe. Not now.
no subject
[But.]
[He sees that shift in Giorno's posture. He places a hand on Giorno's shoulder wordlessly, not out of pity or even to comfort him necessarily. Instead, it's a gesture of solidarity.]
no subject
[He does his best, then, to give in little ways - lays his hand over Bruno's on his shoulder.]
I'm here, you know.
[For him. For himself. Or for whatever there is between them, the comfort they can take from each other; if they can find the right balance between giving and taking so it's equal, then they can both be here. They can both have that, and maybe it'll be safe.]
no subject
[He knows and he won't forget that, but he also won't take Giorno up on that either. They both know that. But it's enough for Bruno to know that Giorno is there. He gives Giorno's shoulder a light squeeze.]
La nostra famiglia è ancora forte.
no subject
[He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment anyway, just for a moment.]
Sempre forte.
[And open again. Moment's over.]
I wonder if my saying anything to Narancia would be intrusive.
no subject
[Giorno has not obviously known Narancia for even half as long as Bruno has known him and Narancia's loyalty and trust will always be greater in Bruno, but that doesn't mean that he doesn't have something significant with Giorno. It's something that should be encouraged to grow. It will be good for both of them.]
no subject
[But he won't, will he.]
[Somehow, that's what makes his eyes sting with unshed tears - and he hides it well, but not perfectly, not by a long shot.]
If I want to help you, will you just push it away? La nostra famiglia è ancora forte, ma siamo deboli soli.
no subject
[Bruno pulls his hand away from Giorno's shoulder, letting his hands fold neatly in his lap as he sits back in his seat. Italian is easier now. It's familiar. It feels closer. So he stays with it for at least a little while longer.]
Ma ho bisogno di fidarsi di me. Ci si sente come se... [It's here that Bruno falters. In some ways, it feels like he is saying too much and also not enough. Words seem inadequate and it feels too great a thing to say right now, edging too close to something that Bruno cannot afford. But he's already on the edge of it, so he lets it fall out of himself in his usual quiet, reserved way.] Ci si sente come se ho perso il mio cuore, Giorno, ma...
[He looks to the side for a moment with just his eyes, blinks just once, and then looks ahead again. It's all he needs to tamp down on whatever was threatening to enter his expression and remain calm. Together. He turns his head a little to look at Giorno, his voice firm. He's not willing to compromise on this.]
Non adesso. Ho bisogno che tu fidi di me che ora non è il momento.
no subject
[He cries a little, then. Just a little, a tear or two, and in perfect silence; his breathing is even and calm. One can hardly even tell that he's crying, unless one looks closely, but then again Bruno always does.]
[It feels really unfair, making any kind of comparison, so he tries very hard not to. But that's what he feels, too, underneath it all. There's a cavity in his chest where his heart used to be.]
[The way he leans on Bruno's shoulder, it's as though he's a little afraid one or both of them will shatter when they touch. But neither of them do, in the end. They're both going to survive this, for better or for worse.]
Lo so.
[He breathes in, slow and careful; breathes out in a quiet gust.]
Mi fido di te. Mi fido della mia vita. Tu sei la mia famiglia. Vorrei solo che . . .
[A thousand things. He wishes a thousand things. I wish Trish were here. I wish bad things would stop happening. I wish I could bring the dead back for real. And Izabel would hate him for that.]
Vorrei solo che avrebbe potuto durare.
[A selfish thing to say. But true.]
Io non ti disturberò fino a quando il tempo è di destra. Ma si deve ricordare che ti voglio bene.
no subject
[I wish it could have lasted.]
[Bruno turns his head away for a moment, biting his lower lip and squeezing his eyes tight enough to see stars sparking behind his eyelids. He can't call the time a waste. He won't call it that. But when is he going to learn? Why was it only at the moment of his final death that he felt no regrets? Why is that so hard to capture, to hold onto in life? Bruno lets his breath go harshly through his nose and opens his eyes.]
Non potrei mai dimenticare. [So much could be taken from him--so much has--but he could not forget something as important as that.] Anch'io ti voglio bene.
no subject
[Somehow, with this, it clicks into place. Something, he doesn't know what, something he couldn't put a name to no matter how hard he tried, at least not yet. Just something, a piece of himself that he's been grasping for for so long. A fragment of the Don Giovanna.]
[Not quite absently, he reaches up and pets Bruno's hair, head leaned on his shoulder. Not careful anymore. Just close. Two exhausted children holding each other up.]
Sono fiero di te. Sono sempre fiero di te.
no subject
Grazie, Giorno.
[He doesn't specify for what. They'd probably be here for a long time if he tried.]
Troverà la strada per tornare a voi. Credo che. Il suo posto è al tuo fianco.
no subject
[But so few things that are worth it are easy. He's worked so hard, and for so long, to bend the rules to his own whims. Now that he's in a place where he can remake the rules exactly as he likes them, he's still bending under the weight of standards that should no longer apply to him.]
[No more of that. Bruno's arm around him feels like it's supposed to be there. He won't allow himself to second-guess that. He won't allow himself to second-guess the words, either; Bruno would never, ever lie to him. Not in a million lifetimes.]
[Instead, he just exhales slowly and shakily and nods, with his cheek pressed lightly against Bruno's shoulder.]
Lo so che è. So che lo farà.