[ he doesn't remember closing his eyes. that is the first thought that flits through his mind, there one second, gone the next; replaced by the realization of a voice, a melody that sounds vaguely familiar, the sensation of a hand running through his hair. it's soft, calming, making him wonder if he's still sleeping — if he's awake at all. if he was ever asleep.
it takes several heartbeats for him to realize that nothing hurts.
slowly, he blinks his eyes open to a vision of gold. ]
Is that... Beethoven?
[ it's an inane question, one that doesn't really require an answer, said only to let Giorno know he's awake. Stiles makes no attempt to sit up — unsure how the healing has affected him, whether it's safe, and yet... it's a comfort, Giorno's hand in his hair, the physical contact, as much as he knows he'll feel awkward about it the second he allows himself to dwell on it more. but for now, he remains where he is, offers a quiet, grateful smile to Giorno and his golden companion. ]
... thanks. [ softly, still, but with a heavy weight; he knows well that the debt he owes to Giorno now is one he can't easily repay. ]
no subject
it takes several heartbeats for him to realize that nothing hurts.
slowly, he blinks his eyes open to a vision of gold. ]
Is that... Beethoven?
[ it's an inane question, one that doesn't really require an answer, said only to let Giorno know he's awake. Stiles makes no attempt to sit up — unsure how the healing has affected him, whether it's safe, and yet... it's a comfort, Giorno's hand in his hair, the physical contact, as much as he knows he'll feel awkward about it the second he allows himself to dwell on it more. but for now, he remains where he is, offers a quiet, grateful smile to Giorno and his golden companion. ]
... thanks. [ softly, still, but with a heavy weight; he knows well that the debt he owes to Giorno now is one he can't easily repay. ]