[Fugo looks up at Giorno, eyes widening-- before his expression, so sleepy and content, crumples like a piece of tissue paper. He shifts in Giorno's lap, shoulders tense, and turns his face away; since Giorno has pushed his hair aside, there's nothing for him to hide underneath.]
I can't. [It's ... easiest. To just say it. Just admit it and get it out there: the reason why all of a sudden his grandfather's focus shifted from the piano to his studies. One of the reasons why he was sent so far away for university.] Sorry.
no subject
I can't. [It's ... easiest. To just say it. Just admit it and get it out there: the reason why all of a sudden his grandfather's focus shifted from the piano to his studies. One of the reasons why he was sent so far away for university.] Sorry.