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I mean— I don't do...casual either, but it's still...

[ This isn't exactly a topic Riley wants to talk about. But it's heavy on her mind. ]

None of the boyfriends I've had've ever felt...right.

[He makes a noncommittal noise.]

[One thing he's learned about Riley . . . his instinct is always to get involved. To push. To make changes, whether they're asked for or not. But with Riley, it doesn't work that way. If she's pushed, she pulls back, back and back and back until she trips and falls. It's not worth it.]

[She has to take the first step.]

Maybe you don't like boys.

[And he's ready to meet her when she does.]

[ In some ways, that's an answer she expected. It almost seems natural, how easy the jump is.

And yet, at the same time...

She stands on the edge of a ravine. The answer's on the other side. But, that answer's...scary. It's all-consuming, it's the missing puzzle piece, it's—

It's an alternate answer to the one she'd given herself. That in the end, this just wasn't something for her. ]

What? No, that's... [ Not as easy to shrug off, after the dream world. ] I- would've known if that's the case by now. ...Right...?

[Hm. He's thoughtful for a moment, quiet, before shaking his head.]

Not necessarily. I don't think it works like that. Besides, it's . . .

[Quiet again. He remembers back to Christmas, the way she pulled away from him then before they understood each other, the way she assumed his intentions instinctively and shrunk from them. Their lives have been different, very different, but this might be the area most outside his realm of experience. He's never had to be Riley Williams, the pretty, bubbly, collectible cheerleader.]

There are expectations put on all of us. Some are harder to lose than others.

They never—

[ They? ...Her parents. Automatically, she hears the word expectations and they come to mind. He...probably didn't even mean it like that. They're just on her mind a lot. ]

...No one ever, like...told me, I was supposed to... [ A pause. ] I mean, there's— plenty of girls like that back home, and I'm not—

[ It feels weird to talk about this. Like, weird to talk about this here, out in the open, as people keep passing by them, but weird to talk about this in general as well. Riley's grip on Giorno's arm tightens just a bit. Her voice lowers. ]

I never thought there was anything wrong with it, I mean, like...even Cai...

[ She trails off again. That's on her mind a lot, too. ]

[He doesn't respond to her touch right away. This is complicated, no matter how simple he would like it to be for her. When she grips more tightly, he lets her do so, thinks, allows himself the moment to breathe; then it's the vine closest to her that creeps over her shoulder and loops itself around her wrist, between her fingers, and wraps around his arm under her hand. The whole of it squeezes, a gentle hug, before loosening enough that she can brush it off if she wants.]

Thinking it's fine on someone else isn't the same as thinking it's fine in you.

[For some reason he thinks about Steve, that first day on the ice. The backpedaling, that look — it's not the first time he's seen it and it won't be the last, that journey of it-doesn't-bother-me-but. It's not relevant, not really, but there are similarities. It's easier to accept some things in others than in oneself, for a lot of reasons.]

[A lot of reasons.]

Italian men don't look or act like me. No one ever said to my face that I wasn't measuring up, not in such clear language, but that doesn't mean I didn't hear the message. Things like that don't have to come in words, you know?

[Mm. And this . . .] What about Cai? [Because he saw enough of the dream, but this sounds new. Something Riley hasn't told him, all dreams aside.]

Edited 2021-08-13 07:25 (UTC)

[ The vines wrap around her and it takes Riley a moment to place just what they're doing. She doesn't shy away from them before she does because—

It's Giorno. He's Giorno, he's not going to- to hurt her, she trusts him. He's family—real family.

It almost makes her forget to listen, while she's wrapped up in comfort. Almost pushes away all the fear and discomfort. He's right, because sometimes the messages without words were worse, weren't they? The dismissing looks, the missed holidays, the lack of acknowledgement.

Her mouth is dry when she answers. ]

She, um... Like- she's got a boyfriend, but she's...you know. Kissed girls before. At parties, and like— [ Her voice is so quiet. So very quiet. ] ...When I was first... When a guy first asked me out and I was...nervous about it, she...taught me how to.

[Every time he hears another snippet about Cairo, he becomes just a little more impressed. By Riley's account, she's someone who just does what she wants and doesn't care what anyone else thinks. The kind of person he forces himself to see in the mirror every morning. He has a lot of respect for that.]

[He's not so surprised, then, to hear it from that side. That Riley allowed it, though . . .]

[He's quiet for a moment, but then he smiles, soft and unfiltered as his chin dips slightly.]

That makes me happy to hear, actually. I don't know if you put a lot of value on firsts. I don't usually, but — it's good that you kissed her for the first time, instead of someone you didn't know or care about.

[Or have any interest in, most likely.]

[ She does. Of course she does. Riley places so much importance on every little thing, so naturally.

Still, she scrambles to clarify: ] Well, it's not- like, people always say that...you know, practice isn't exactly the same thing, you know?

[ People say. People. ]

[This time, she gets an unimpressed look.]

Do you really believe that?

[ She glances away. ]

...I used to.

Mm.

[She's honest. It's more than he expects about this sort of thing most of the time, but today she seems to be more open. Maybe it's the immersion in a perfect world followed by a month's coma, or something.]

I have a hypothesis. Do you mind if I share it?

[ For her, just yesterday, she was in that perfect world. Perfect in ways she didn't even know were perfect. ]

Um. Sure.

[Another step forward. She takes one, and so does he. Metaphorically, that is. They've been walking this whole time, but there's a difference.]

I think that, because you knew what it was like with her, those boys who went after her could never measure up. No matter how much you wanted them to, you knew better. That it wasn't what you wanted.

Is there anything to that?

Edited 2021-08-14 03:56 (UTC)

[ They've been walking. But Riley slows to a stop now, heart in her throat. Her arm trembles around Giorno's. ]

I've never... I never thought about...any of this, before.

[ She's mumbling.

It's not a no. ]

[He slows with her, of course. Stops with her. Lays his other hand over hers on his arm, this time, alongside the vine that tightens slightly.]

That's okay.

[Not it's okay, even though he thinks it is. It's clear that Riley doesn't feel okay right now. Unstable, walking some tightrope he can't even see. But it's okay, he tells her, that she's never thought of it before. And,] Go slowly. There's no deadline, Riley.

. . . Do you want to find somewhere to sit?

[ Wordlessly, Riley nods. So many times, it feels like her words fail her, and this time, it's...

It feels so stupid that it's one of them. ]

[By now, he knows every park in Bavan by heart. He doesn't even have to try hard to remember where the nearest one is and how to get there from here. With a squeeze of her hand, he tugs her down a narrow side street, out through a square, and half a block south — and there it is, a small patch of green in the middle of the city.]

[There's a small, rather clumsily-built pond next to a bench just a few yards in. That's where he leads her, tugging her down to sit next to him. Instead of restarting conversation right away, taking the reins back himself, he leans his shoulder against her shoulder, then his temple against hers. Just for a moment, before pulling back to give her space.]

[He loves her, that's all. There are plenty of ways to say it without speaking.]

[ Lost in her own thoughts, Riley's relatively easy to lead to and through the park. She loves the parks of Bavan, honestly. They're pretty, and when she used to go running, before her feet made that difficult, they were her favorite places to workout. Good scenery, a good way to try and relax. Now, it's like she blinks and there they are, sitting on the bench. There they are, pressed together. Such a soft, tender moment that her mind keeps racing over.

She squeezes her eyes closed for a long moment. ]

I don't- even know why this is so... I never wanted to— ...I gave up on this stuff years ago. It wasn't- none of it was...working, and... I was just...trying to focus on cheer, so...

I don't even...want to...

[ A perfect world. She trails off. ]

[Oh boy. That sounds . . . uncomfortably familiar. The noise he huffs out is nebulous, not quite one thing or another. Whatever its nuances, it's directed entirely at himself.]

I'm going to tell you something. I'd appreciate it if you kept it between us.

[He doesn't ask her to promise, because it's not something he'd even think of worrying about. Not from Riley. Not about this. Still, he can't help but hesitate before he speaks. It's such a strangely personal and, to him, just strange thing to even think about, let alone say out loud.]

. . . I decided several years ago that I wasn't interested in "this stuff". Not because it wasn't working, but because I didn't want to try. For a lot of reasons — I didn't want people near me. I didn't like or trust anyone. I found the idea of pretending to be someone I wasn't repulsive, and I didn't see any way to engage with other people genuinely without risk. And I was busy. I was working towards something. I didn't have time for distractions.

[Not exactly the same, then, but not all that different, either. This time, when he squeezes her hand, it's for his own comfort.]

It worked for a long time, and I thought I was being very successful, but I wasn't. I didn't have nearly as much control over it as I thought I did. Which isn't . . . I didn't like that. I still don't. But I can't stop myself from . . .

[Hm, no. Now it's his turn to trail off. Staring down at his hand resting over hers, he sighs, feeling prickly and uncomfortable, but not as bad as he could be, considering he's never put any of this into words before.]

I don't think anyone can, [is where he ends up. No one can shut love off entirely. There's no perfect self-isolation. There's always a way for someone to break in.]

[ As he talks, Riley listens. It's more vulnerable than she usually hears him, particularly because...it sounds like he's working through this, right now. He sounds uncertain, like she's uncertain, and that doesn't seem... Well, okay, Giorno's not exactly a bastion of emotional security? But usually what he opens up about is something he's already thought about. Something he's already worked through, something he's explaining to her.

It's not...like this. Even whenever he's being vulnerable with her, this seems... ]

Giorno, you don't have...to...

[ What happens next isn't entirely something she means to do. Her closest wing stretches out around him. Her own unorthodox hug.

Her hand turns over, so she can lace their fingers together. ]

I didn't- want to be alone, it just- ...there were...so many things I couldn't talk about, so... I just kept...pushing. And pushing, and...

...It felt easier. To stop reaching out.

[ To stop seeing the hands reaching back to her. ]

[She's not at all wrong. He's thought about the first part of it to an almost absurd degree, writing it into his mind and his mores until it feels genetically encoded: he does not need anyone. He can and should know exactly who he is and what he wants, and maybe in some improbable future he can have those things — but he will never need them. Not ever. That's what he told himself. That's part of what made him Giorno and not Haruno, who needed and never received. Giorno provides for his own needs, builds his own kingdom, brings his own dreams to life.]

[The part he's never put voice to is the shattering of that illusion. It's been broken down so thoroughly that the glass has turned back to sand. Much of what broke it down was family, the kind he didn't know existed, not blood but breath and heart and love — but that wasn't all of it. It just wasn't, and for Riley, he's willing to look that fact in the eye. People are something he can't live without. Love is something he can't put back in the box. That's always been the reality.]

[He half-smiles when her wing brushes his shoulder, leans gently into the touch. Laces his fingers between hers in turn.]

I know I don't have to.

[That's . . . part of the point, isn't it. He doesn't have to. But he wants to sit in this with her, and while they're not here to talk about his heart, this particular throughline of his heart's story is . . . quite relevant.]

It does feel easier. When there are things you can't talk about and you're used to not being heard in any case.

[Their hands are so gentle with each other, he thinks. Not like they used to be. Back in November, he could never have imagined he'd be able to sit with her like this, or be so open.]

I don't think I really wanted to be alone, either. It just seemed like the only option, and the safest one. I don't know what I would have done if I had someone like Cairo, but . . . Part of me thinks it must have been even more frightening than having no one.

[Because what happens if you have someone and then no one? Better to pull away first. Better to break it yourself, so no one can break it for you.]

[ He wants to. Like Cairo wanted to. He wants to reach out and help her, no matter how many times she's rejected it. No matter what she's done.

It almost makes her feel sick.

Her wing shudders against him. ]

I- I knew, we were- ...high school made things...complicated. I...got on the team, our first year and- and I don't know why, she was great, but they- they didn't take her. And...she just started...going to all these parties and I- I tried, I wanted to, I didn't want to be alone, but-

[ She couldn't keep up. It was terrifying. To watch herself...losing her best friend, like that. Especially since— ]

...I thought...maybe when we were both...on the same page, it'd be better, but...it never got better. Nothing did. Not...with her, or...with my...

[ ... ]

So. ...When... I couldn't think of...how to ask her for- help, the kind I really...really needed, I... After...that night, I... I just...stopped...

[ It's still about girls, broadly. But. This has been sitting inside her. For months. For...oh, god, has it been a year? Since she's spoken to her? Really spoken to her? ]

No one was gonna...be able to really understand. Not...what was going through my head. Not even her. That's what it felt like.

[That's what it felt like.]

[It makes him sad. Really, really sad — because from the way she's phrased that, he knows. He knows she knows the difference between what it felt like and all the realities that might have been. Riley has found people here who understand, or who are at the very least willing to listen, to open their hearts, to hear. To help.]

[It makes him sad, thinking about her looking back on her choices and regretting. But all he can do is be here with her now.]

[His weight rests slightly more heavily on her shoulder.]

I wonder if she thought some of the same things. That there were things about her life that had gotten so complicated you couldn't understand.

[Mirthless, he smiles briefly.]

I don't understand a lot of these things. The complexity of . . . being part of something like the school, the team. So I worry about getting it wrong, but . . .

Do you still think that now? That she wouldn't have understood.

Her too...?

[ It doesn't seem like that's occurred to Riley. That maybe she'd been under some kind of weight, too. It's such a simple conclusion, one that she's never even considered, because—because she was so focused on herself. On the idea that no one could possibly help her, even though that's what she wanted more than anything else in the world.

She sits in this moment, letting it wash over her before she responds. ]

I don't...know. [ It's honest. It's true. But— ] I was so sure before, but— Maybe. She...might've.

[ Just that little doubt's enough to shake her. It's been enough, since she's started to receive that support here. ]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, CHEERYCHERRY. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 019.46.820.17 * CHEERYCHERRY has joined 019.46.820.17 <CHEERYCHERRY> It's Riley! <CHEERYCHERRY> Please leave a message! <CHEERYCHERRY>** Please be someone with their priorities sorted out properly!

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