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[Honestly, it doesn't even occur to him to be offended. That's the contradiction about him. He's awfully prideful except in all the ways he's not. The idea that she might say something pointed to draw his attention to their fraught last meetings doesn't even occur. All he can really tell is that she's awkward and upset and, well. He can't blame her for that.]

[He can probably manage to blame himself, though. And how has he been? Staring past Riley at nothing, his brow furrows slightly, trying for the first time to make sense of the order of things. What was real and what wasn't. What's bothering him and why.]

[For the first time, his mind catches on something, and his eyes go wide.]

Did you — did you know someone named Trish? In the other place. Trish Una. About this tall— [He gestures to about his cheekbone.] With pink hair. Do you remember her? Have you seen her here?

[ At any moment, she's expecting him to turn and walk away. She's dangerous. A liar, a murderer. If anything, she'd deserve it, desertion from the first friend she made all on her own, a fitting punishment after— ]

Huh? [ Oh. That's...not what she expected. It's just the right thing to chase away the self-pitying thoughts. ] Trish...?

[ A whole lifetime of memories to sort through. She lets herself fall into them, like she's collapsing into a raked pile of leaves. Classmates, friends, science partners... She sorts through them, through this alternate life. ]

Trish, I... [ Slowly, she shakes her head, letting herself return to the here, the now. ] No? I'm...sorry, is she... Do you know her?

[Riley says no. Which is what he expected, or at least should have expected. To think anything else would be naive. If Trish were here, he would have already known. The second she arrived, he would have known.]

[Then why was she there?]

[His expression is distant as he shakes his head, then catches himself and nods.] She's a friend. From home. She isn't here, but she was in the other place. I thought maybe it might mean she'd arrived in the meantime, but that . . . doesn't seem to be the case.

[And he'd asked Riley because he thinks Trish would like her. Might see a lot of herself in Riley, really. They're both a lot stronger than they give themselves credit for. Somehow, thinking this makes him feel worse. Rubbing his temple, he sighs.]

Sorry, that wasn't really an answer to your question, was it? Confused. I've been confused. And you?

[ If possible, Giorno's answer throws her even more out of whack than his question. Someone he knew, she was here in that other world, but not here? She looks at him, utterly baffled, taking a moment to realize she's been asked a question in return. ]

I... Confused. [ She sounds like an echo. ] Also very confused— I'm sorry, you're sure it was...your friend, there? How's that possible?

I don't . . . know.

[Which. Under other circumstances he'd probably be annoyed she asked at all. He did already say that, and he does hate repeating himself. But right now he sort of understands why she asked. It doesn't make the tiniest bit of sense.]

[Closing his eyes, he frowns, a furrow forming between his brows as he walks himself through it.] She lived in Vandare with a relative. A relative. Who I know, and is here. But I don't think he knew her. Unless he's lying.

[If he's lying, he's gonna get an Ass Kicking. But what would the motive be to lie? Ugh, this is so stupid. Huffing, he opens his eyes.]

It doesn't matter. That wasn't real, so it doesn't matter. I don't know why it's bothering me so much. [Enough that he's essentially talking to himself out loud more than Riley, unaware of exactly how honest he's being, which: decently. It's as though he's trying to talk himself out of his own sense of unease.]

[ Already, Riley starts thinking and fabricating—someone else's relative, someone who is here, does that mean she was there for him, but why, considering everyone analogous in her own life was replaced with various people she knows here, so—

And then well, that wasn't real. Riley feels the words prick at her, and she frowns. ]

I don't...think it doesn't matter. We...were still there. We've still got all those memories, and...experiences.

[ A loving family. She wants to hold onto it. ]

[Giorno's expression is complicated, mercurial. He doesn't attempt to hide the way it shifts, but where it ends up is difficult to read, let alone all the stops it makes along the way. He's caught up in Trish, not only the memories of her in this fake place but memories from home. He's been here much longer than he knew her, so logic would dictate he shouldn't miss her so much, but he does, every day, as loudly as pain. He wonders what she would think of what this place has done to them, if she'd judge them for having to follow the rules monsters live by (he doubts it) or tease Mista for the bright colors on his tail (almost certainly). If she were here, things would be different. Still awful in so many ways, but better. What a selfish thing to wish for.]

[When Riley speaks, something twists. He desperately doesn't want to fight with her, doesn't want to hurt her. At the same time, what she's saying is so categorically detrimental to everything he's chosen to be that he can't let it stand unchallenged.]

[So, he chooses his words carefully.]

I understand that your experience was your own, and I don't mean to devalue it. Please believe that. But I would rather a hundred clones crawl out of my brain than ever go through that again.

[For a moment he's quiet again, trying to sort out a feeling. Overlaying the stinging pain and humiliation is an easier emotion: indignation. Decidedly, he nods and looks up at her again.]

It was disrespectful. That's all.

[Of course it isn't all. But it's the most presentable part.]

[ At the museum, Riley wasn't expecting Giorno's reaction. To her knowledge, there was no reason why she should've been careful with her words or actions, outside of keeping people out of her own exhibit.

Stupid, foolish, you always have to be careful, and the fact that she wasn't then lead her to all this. That's why when he looks at her like that, she's prepared. Even though she let the feelings from the other world, the uncomplicated world where she wasn't hiding what kind of person she really is from him, Riley's careful again. She's already fitting the sheet of glass between her and Giorno, between her and what she'd really like to say. ]

Oh, uh... Sorry, then. I...won't bring it up again.

[ She's already walking on eggshells, or glass, around him. It's easy to take that step back, then. To make herself distant. ]

Don't do that.

[Calm, albeit with self-awareness of his own rising temper at the very least. He knows what she's doing. He knows this move. He's used it.]

I'm explaining why I have a different opinion than you. You're tiptoeing around something, but you also asked how I am. I've been nothing but honest since you touched down. And you promised to tell me if I was saying something strange. So what is it?

[ Automatically, she almost says don't do what but Giorno is... He's different from other people. There's something in him that gets it.

That's why it's so terrifying, when her deflection techniques don't work. It's like he's looking into a piece of her that she doesn't share. Not with anyone.

She tries not to look away. ] You didn't say anything strange, okay? So, we can just...drop it, it's fine.

[Another fiber in the rope frays. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, closes his eyes. It smells of flowers. Everything does, always has. He missed it when he was Haruno, and since he's come back he's missed Gold Experience like a lost half of his heart, worse than ever. He misses the scent of the sea. He misses home and Trish and the easy things like ferreting out traitors and executing them one by one, looking to the future where the city is clean and safe.]

[What exactly is he trying to preserve here? He and Riley are friends, or they're supposed to be. He isn't trying to break things further, but she keeps stepping further and further away. Opening his eyes, he's surprised to see she's still so close.]

. . . I'm not dropping it, Riley. You came down to see me, but now you look like you can't get away fast enough. Is it so incomprehensible that I didn't like having a new life implanted in my brain? Or did I do something? If you don't tell me, it's just going to feel like this forever. And I don't know about you, but this doesn't feel right. It feels miserable.

[ No, that's not it. No, she doesn't want to run— no, he doesn't have to— he didn't—

That other Riley wouldn't have these problems. That other Riley wasn't a filthy, disgusting monster inside and out, that other Riley only— ]

You didn't say anything strange, okay, I did, like always, s-so j-just—

[ It's out of her mouth before she can stop it. Stupid. Impulsive, reckless girl. This is always what gets her into trouble. Listening to everything clawing inside her head. But then what else does she listen to, why can't she just.

Stop.

Her claws have started digging into the skin on her arms without her realizing it. She's staring at the ground but not really seeing it. ]

I did something wrong, okay? I did.

[He was an unimposing figure once, but even then, even when he was unmotivated to move much at all, he was capable of surprising strength and speed. That's only increased now — and one thing he's learned in the past year is that his most impulsive, stupid choices are made for people he cares about.]

[The truth of the matter is that Riley is a physical threat to him as much as he is to her. They're both made of weapons, now. But that doesn't stop him from darting forward, grabbing her by the wrists, and yanking them away from her arms, up and between them, close to eye level. So he can keep watch on them. So that she can see what her own hands are doing. While the gesture is rough, he's careful to keep his claws a safe distance from her skin.]

Riley. I don't know what you think you did wrong.

[Calm, but not soothing. Level, but not kind. He's being honest, like he has been for the past ten minutes: he has no idea what she's talking about.]

Bad things have happened, but they aren't your fault. What are you blaming yourself for?

[ Little bits of blood drip from her claws, and she stares at them, almost shocked. She hadn't caused deep cuts, but they're just enough to bleed. It reminds her of that night she ripped the thing that spoke in her family's voices into little pieces, when she ripped the little mouths whispering her sins off her arms, opening gashes that took until the next fog to heal.

Her family. Her sins. Riley almost whimpers at the thought of it, of the memory of looking up at him in the tree, paralyzed— ]

You're absolutely joking, right? [ Tight, clipped, pained. ] Don't— please don't make me say it.

I'm absolutely serious.

[And he is. More so than he is about most things, albeit in an oblique way. Riley is important, Riley matters, and if she's going to ice him out for something he's damn well going to know what it is. Never mind that half an hour ago he was avoiding everyone he knew like the plague. Never mind that half of this is just him digging his heels in out of sheer stubbornness. It doesn't matter. Riley matters.]

What do you think you've done to me that's so bad? I don't know. I can't know unless you tell me.

[But he's missing a piece, of course. To me. He thinks it's something she did to him, specifically. Because bad things happen, they've all done bad things, and that day in the tree is the farthest thing from his mind.]

[ And unlike that day, out of almost pure incredulity, Riley finds she can actually find the words. ]

Why are you doing this, you know why! [ Her voice cracks and her hands tremble in his grasp. She looks at him in utter confusion. It's been all she's been thinking about, after all. ] I'm— I'm a freak, why— why are you asking that when you know that I'm a psycho murderer?!

[ These...just aren't the words she ever wanted to really say. ]

Edited 2021-04-11 20:39 (UTC)

[The outburst is surprising enough that Giorno lets go of her wrists, his hands coming up in self-defense, as though she's pointing a knife at him. The look on his face is easy to read this time: genuine shock. Processing her words is gratingly difficult, trying to drive on gravel with square wheels, because the cause and effect is barely comprehensible. She's a psycho murderer. She killed people. She's putting distance between them. She's a murderer. She killed people. She's p—]

[Wait. Waitwaitwait.]

Are you telling me you're icing me out because you killed people?

[ARE YOU SERIOUS, RILEY WILLIAMS.]

Yes!!

[ ...Wait. Just as urgent but like half as shrill: ] I'm not icing you out, Giorno, god! You didn't want to talk to me either, remember?

Yes you are!

[He wants to scream. Covering his face with both hands, he lets out a stream of words that are both crisply furious and completely incomprehensible. If this stupid peninsula had taken away his ability to swear properly he'd have lost his mind months ago. Taking the Madonna's name in vain is the only thing that hasn't betrayed him.]

[Christ. He lets his hands fall to his sides, but only for a second, because they start moving a lot as he speaks.]

I never said I didn't want to talk to you. You decided that. We used to talk all the time, and then after the museum you just weren't around, and it just kept getting worse. I thought you needed space or something because you were acting bizarre, but I wasn't avoiding you. You're the one who hasn't met my eye in a month!

Do you even listen? Killing people is what I do! If you'd taken a few steps forward in the museum you'd have seen it. You think I'm, what, disgusted by what you did? I don't know the whole story, I don't understand it, but you're the one who decided I didn't want anything to do with you because of it. Not me.

Edited 2021-04-11 22:57 (UTC)

[ It's like getting splashed with a bucket of water. A cold wake up. Riley's stunned, but she won't— she doesn't want to believe it. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she shakes her head, trying to hold on to way she's understood the last two months. ]

No, I... That's not what— [ Another shake, a little desperate. ] What was I supposed to think, after...you were so— you were sure I'd hate you.

[ Her halfhearted attempt to turn it back around ends up sapping the fire in her. Dodged calls. Months left on read. Turning away, and... ]

And...after the... I didn't— I couldn't...with anyone, so...

[ It's true, what he's saying. Even now, she's watching his hands instead of his face, drawn to the movement, or—or using that as an excuse to hide. ]

So...I just... 'Cause I'd...I'd already...ruined it, so...

[ Her voice grows softer and softer as little disconnected explanations pour out. She lets her claws fall to her side. ]

[She's right. He had been sure she'd hate him. But it wasn't only that. He'd felt vivisected, cut from his gut to his throat and splayed open; he'd seen the one person he most wants to hurt with their feet in the squishy red carpet of all his darkest secrets. Raw and brutalized, he stumbled upon her with his back to the wall and his hackles already up, and just like that . . .]

[She never really stopped panicking after that moment. He's starting to see that now. What's less clear is how he can stop it from happening again. Because he's not better than that. He's only as good as his worst moments, when the names of his dead friends are thrown in his face and he digs fangs deep enough into the world to draw blood and rend muscle. He will always, always defend himself. It's so far past a reflex. It's a compulsion.]

[So how does he get ahead of this? His hands draw back as her words trail off, one curling protectively against his collarbone, the other wrapping around the wrist of the first, a weak link of organic chainmail.]

Just because I thought you'd hate me doesn't mean anything about how I feel towards you. I'm . . . [He doesn't know how to put it, shakes his head.] It feels different. It felt different, then. Inevitable. But I wasn't thinking clearly. I was too upset.

[Somehow, it doesn't seem so dangerous now. Why is that? He's quiet for a moment, glancing at the way the sun reflects in the water. They're both day monsters, flashy and pretty, and very dangerous. It's complicated, what they are.]

[Haruno wasn't complicated. His mouth twitches at the corners, and he glances back at her.]

Now, though . . . you know my least favorite thing about myself. At least part of it. You might not even have figured it out from the exhibit.

[ Childishly, she somewhat spits out: ] I hate the exhibits.

[ It's an important first point of clarification. Hesitantly, she starts to bring her hands up, back to where she'd clawed open her own arms. She winces as she sets them back, in a hug instead. ]

...I never wanna look at them. At someone else's. I didn't wanna see any of that, and... I didn't want anyone else to see mine.

[ Can she try and look at him? Her lips press tightly together. She manages a glance, as she can feel her pulse pound in her throat. ]

I didn't wanna know anything like that. Not— ...not from...those things.

[Briefly, a fond smile flits across his features. Yes, he knows. Of course she does.]

I hate them, too. They're unnecessary and cruel. I think I just . . . [Hm. His fingertips press against his collarbone lightly, anchoring him to his body.] There are some things . . . that it does explain better than I think I would know how to.

[For a moment he's quiet, trying to figure out if that's really true. If he tried, could he figure out a way? It sounds exhausting. More than that, he thinks he'd give up halfway through. Does it help or hurt to know she's already got the key to the lock so few people even know exists?]

I'm not talking about the museum right now, though, Riley. Do you know what I'm talking about?

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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cw: unintentional self-harm, untreated mental illness, internalized ableism

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cw: cannibalism mentions, body horror

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cw: internalized ableism

cw internalized ableism 1/3

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fin.

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cw gory imagery

cw: self-harm mentions

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