[Rationally, Giorno knows who it is. It's Jin; of course it is. He can see Jin's hand connecting to his arm connecting to his shoulder. But at the same time Giorno can't be rational at all right now. The relief and the fear and all this unsafety, bound together tight as a braid, keep rationality as far from him as godhood.]
[All he knows, really knows, is that the hand on his arm is broad and strong. It isn't yanking him, but it could be. It isn't painful, but it could be. And if the person that hand belongs to chooses to hurt him, there's nothing he can do to stop it.]
[Rationally: not true. Experientially: wholly accurate.]
[He stiffens. Arms to shoulders to neck, he goes still and tense, like a rabbit caught in a trap. He's still looking at Fugo, but he's not looking at Fugo. What he's looking is, more than anything, like Fugo. Like they've just switched places, and he's the one who'll need to be led with eyes closed in a moment.]
[. . . And then he's fine, like nothing happened. His wan smile comes back, flickering briefly on his lips, before disappearing for good. Delicately, gently, he lifts his hand to push Jin away--but he's already gone.]
[Figures, he thinks, feeling bitter, and doesn't understand why. There's a problem to solve, anyway.]
. . . It'll be safest if he knows.
[He looks at Fugo measuringly, clawing his way through panic and nausea to self-control.]
Just the pertinent details. If you'd rather I tell him for you, I will. But he can best help us that way, Fugo.
cw child abuse implied
[Rationally, Giorno knows who it is. It's Jin; of course it is. He can see Jin's hand connecting to his arm connecting to his shoulder. But at the same time Giorno can't be rational at all right now. The relief and the fear and all this unsafety, bound together tight as a braid, keep rationality as far from him as godhood.]
[All he knows, really knows, is that the hand on his arm is broad and strong. It isn't yanking him, but it could be. It isn't painful, but it could be. And if the person that hand belongs to chooses to hurt him, there's nothing he can do to stop it.]
[Rationally: not true. Experientially: wholly accurate.]
[He stiffens. Arms to shoulders to neck, he goes still and tense, like a rabbit caught in a trap. He's still looking at Fugo, but he's not looking at Fugo. What he's looking is, more than anything, like Fugo. Like they've just switched places, and he's the one who'll need to be led with eyes closed in a moment.]
[. . . And then he's fine, like nothing happened. His wan smile comes back, flickering briefly on his lips, before disappearing for good. Delicately, gently, he lifts his hand to push Jin away--but he's already gone.]
[Figures, he thinks, feeling bitter, and doesn't understand why. There's a problem to solve, anyway.]
. . . It'll be safest if he knows.
[He looks at Fugo measuringly, clawing his way through panic and nausea to self-control.]
Just the pertinent details. If you'd rather I tell him for you, I will. But he can best help us that way, Fugo.