[His first instinct is honestly to remark upon their very risky decision to wait for him. It's not because of the near-nihilistic way he used to think of himself, but the reality was there was no 100% guarantee he would appear in this city again let alone before their window for going home would be sealed forever. It was foolish and risky, and both of them should know better when the were others depending on them.]
[But before he can get any further with the impulse (working through to its natural conclusion that these boys doing foolish and risky things for others is part of the modest legacy he left behind), Giorno says home.]
[Home.]
[Bruno's heart leaps into his throat at the memory of a confession shared in the dead of night. It was only spoken that one time, but felt at a near constant as an impossibility that had to be accepted for the cold reality it always was. But Giorno and then Fugo ask him to come home and it's like the very world's been swept out from underneath his feet.]
Home . . .
[He breathes the word like it's familiar and foreign all at once. Hope is a tentative, fragile thing with a thousand reasons for and against it. Bruno shakes his head a little, at a complete and utter loss for words.]
[One of his hands is so tightly caught up with Fugo's that even his own bones are starting to hurt. It's only when he reaches out his other hand that he unconsciously allows the pressure to release. He wants to touch Bruno and make sure he's real, warm, living; he wants to take hold of him and make sure he goes through that door.]
[But it's Bruno's choice. He refuses to let go of that lesson: that it's wrong to take away people's choice, no matter how good his intentions might be.]
There's a place for you. There's always a place for you with us. Please come with us to Napoli again. She's got to miss you after all this time.
[He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what to say that-- would be fair to Bruno, that wouldn't be selfish of him to admit or ask.]
Please. Don't stay here. Don't go back to where you were. Even if-- [He can't even finish that sentence: "Even if you don't come with us, find a world you want to live in." Fugo bites his lip.] ... we missed you.
[All of them have-- the two of them here and then Mista and Trish, waiting for them to come home in Napoli.
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[But before he can get any further with the impulse (working through to its natural conclusion that these boys doing foolish and risky things for others is part of the modest legacy he left behind), Giorno says home.]
[Home.]
[Bruno's heart leaps into his throat at the memory of a confession shared in the dead of night. It was only spoken that one time, but felt at a near constant as an impossibility that had to be accepted for the cold reality it always was. But Giorno and then Fugo ask him to come home and it's like the very world's been swept out from underneath his feet.]
Home . . .
[He breathes the word like it's familiar and foreign all at once. Hope is a tentative, fragile thing with a thousand reasons for and against it. Bruno shakes his head a little, at a complete and utter loss for words.]
no subject
[But it's Bruno's choice. He refuses to let go of that lesson: that it's wrong to take away people's choice, no matter how good his intentions might be.]
There's a place for you. There's always a place for you with us. Please come with us to Napoli again. She's got to miss you after all this time.
no subject
Please. Don't stay here. Don't go back to where you were. Even if-- [He can't even finish that sentence: "Even if you don't come with us, find a world you want to live in." Fugo bites his lip.] ... we missed you.
[All of them have-- the two of them here and then Mista and Trish, waiting for them to come home in Napoli.