[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.]
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[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.
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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.