Giorno angst today. This is the only canon compliant post Part 5 fic I think I've ever written XD Giorno is about 20 here.
I'm Not Okay (I Promise)
Day 15: Emotional Damage
(lies, new scars, breathing through the pain)
It wasn't even that bad.
That was what Giorno told himself as he stood in front of the mirror in his room, waiting for Gold Experience to finish healing the day's injuries. Never mind that it was scars upon scars, and they didn't heal the same as they used to. He didn't know why. It was like his Stand had lost the knack for it. Gold Experience didn't used to leave scars, still didn't when Giorno healed other people. For him, though, Gold Experience left only more lines carved into Giorno's flesh, reminders of each battle won.
Reminders that, to him, no matter the pain, it was worth it. He would always rather suffer the pain himself than lose another teammate. That was the one thing he couldn't bear.
As his Stand finished, he slipped his shirt and suit jacket back over his shoulders, covering those scars, and fixed the usual smile on his face so the others wouldn't see the pain. He was fine, and he would continue to be fine.
He had a meeting later that afternoon; a little makeup effectively covered the bruises on his face. Now that he had a few minutes, he thought he would make a cup of coffee before he went to discuss everything with Fugo prior to leaving for the meeting.
Mista found him first while he was in the kitchen. The gunman did not look happy.
"You went off without me again today."
Giorno shrugged, hiding the wince with practiced ease as the action caused injuries to smart. "It wasn't a problem. The job didn't require two people."
"That's not the point, Giorno!" Mista snapped. "You're the Don and I'm your bodyguard, it's literally my job to protect you, and I can't do that when you keep slipping off to take out drug rings alone."
Giorno sighed and spooned some sugar into his coffee before stirring it methodically. "I'm not calling your abilities into question, if that's what you're worried about."
Mista's mouth opened slightly, staring at him before he finally managed, "Giorno, that is the least of my worries. In fact, you are the one I'm worried about."
Giorno carefully put down the spoon and took up his cup. "You have no need to worry about me, Mista. I appreciate your concern, but I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself." He made to leave the kitchen. "Now, I have a meeting to prepare for."
"Giorno," Mista stressed, reaching out to grab his shoulder as he passed him.
This time, Giorno wasn't quite able to hide the wince, inhaling sharply as Mista's hand clamped firmly around a fresh scar.
"Giorno, come on," Mista muttered quietly, a deep-seeded pleading in his voice.
Giorno breathed out slowly to steady himself and refused to meet Mista's eyes, angling them toward the hand on his shoulder instead.
"I have work to do, Mista."
The gunman swallowed hard but finally released him, watching him head toward the office.
Giorno tried to ignore the gunman's eyes boring into his back, the feeling of regret for pushing his friends away, but it was so difficult. He had scars, deeper than the ones on his body, that had still not healed, no matter how many years passed. And for as many as he collected on the outside, he could not allow any more to gather in his heart for fear that they would destroy him completely.
XXX
Trish stared at the text from Mista while she waited for the train to arrive at her stop.
He's doing it again. You need to come talk to him, he might listen to you.
Trish pressed her lips together tightly. She wasn't entirely sure about Mista's confidence. Despite the…thing—whatever yet-to-be-defined relationship she and Giorno had going—he didn't exactly open up to her. Giorno didn't open up to anyone. It had taken a miracle and several glasses of wine over a holiday dinner for him to admit he had feelings for her at all. He was frustratingly emotionally repressed.
But Trish couldn't help but love him. And she couldn't stand to see him so obviously hurting, refusing to let anyone help him.
Mista picked her up from the train station with a fond grin and a firm embrace.
"Hey, how have you been?"
Trish shrugged. "Oh, you know, the usual. I start getting the Autumn Line launches ready next month, which is when everything will really start getting hectic." She glanced up at him. "So, Giorno."
Mista's face fell. "He's taking missions alone again, and I know he's coming back hurt but he won't say it. He thinks he's hiding the bloody cloths, but I know because his succulent collection is growing—it's his favorite disposal method. And then, well, there's the scars. He also thinks he's hiding those, but I've caught sight of several when he's not so careful."
"Scars?" Trish asked, furrowing her brow. "But Gold Experience doesn't leave scars."
"Not when Giorno heals anyone but himself," Mista said grimly.
Trish processed the information, worry welling in her stomach as they drove back to the house.
Mista grabbed her bags for her as Trish went inside, catching Fugo in the kitchen as he was starting dinner.
"Hey," she said as he greeted her with a tired smile. "Do you know where Giorno is?"
"I think he's in his room," Fugo said.
Trish hurried upstairs and knocked on the closed door.
A hurried shuffling was heard from inside. "What is it?"
"Giorno, it's me," Trish called.
There was silence for a moment before the door finally opened, revealing Giorno wearing his silk robe and a fixed smile on his face. Trish tried not to think about how good he looked in the burgundy silk right now.
"Trish, I didn't think you were coming until the weekend."
"Yeah, well, I took some extra time off," she said with a small smile, glancing over his outfit again. "Are you going to bed already?"
"I was…just going to take a bath," Giorno replied, and stood there as if waiting for Trish to leave.
Which she did not do and wasn't planning on doing.
There was no point in beating around the bush either. It would never come up in conversation unless she pushed the topic and they had been ignoring this long enough.
"Giorno, Mista told me about the scars."
Giorno's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Trish took the opportunity to push her way into the room so Giorno couldn't close the door on her.
He finally cleared his throat and shut the door himself. "So you came to scold me too, is that it?"
"No, Giorno, I came to try and help you," Trish told him earnestly. "Why do you think it's necessary to do all of this yourself? Especially without Mista to watch your back?"
"Because he almost died three months, ago, remember?" Giorno demanded and the cracks appeared that he had obviously been trying so hard to hide. "Because someone who wanted to get back at me shot him in the heart, and if I hadn't been there that second he would have been dead. Gone. Like…like everyone else."
He turned his back on her, heading over to his windowsill where the collection of small houseplants and succulents had definitely grown since the last time Trish had been here. A couple beta fish also swam around in bowls, prisms from the water dancing across Giorno's face as he picked up a small watering can and began distributing it between the pots.
"If my position cannot even save the people I cherish most, then what good was any of this?" Giorno mumbled as if to himself. "When I started this crusade I was so young and so naïve. I thought any sacrifice was worth it. Spoken like a child who had never lost anything of import," he spat bitterly.
"You're scared. I understand," Trish said quietly.
Giorno shook his head. "It's not about being scared, it's knowing what I can bear, and I can't—"
He stopped, hand clenching around the watering can handle until his knuckles whitened. Trish watched as his throat bobbed and could see the brief glint of wetness in his eye before he forcibly blinked it away.
Trish sighed and moved to stand beside him. He turned away quickly and bent to put the watering can down, only to wince and curl and arm around his ribs.
"Giorno…" Trish said, heart aching, as she reached out.
Giorno grabbed her wrist before she could touch him, grip almost painful, before he seemed to realize what he was doing and loosened it.
"Why are there scars, Giorno?" Trish asked him.
"I don't know," he said flatly. "Gold won't heal them completely anymore. I don't know why."
"Giorno, Gold Experience is you," Trish said insistently. "Why are you not healing the scars?"
Giorno looked away again, and leaned against the windowsill, looking like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Trish could see one of those scars peeking out from the collar of his robe, fresh and pink, maybe even from today.
"I still think of them too. A lot," Trish told him quietly, a lump in her own throat as she reached out to take one of his hands in hers. Reluctantly, he allowed her to. "But Bucciarati wouldn't have wanted this for you."
"If I don't have these, then I'll dwell on the other ones too much," Giorno whispered suddenly and Trish suddenly understood and it sent a pang deep into her chest.
"Giorno, you don't have to carry this burden alone," Trish insisted. "I'm here. We're all here."
"I can't—"
"Yes, you can," Trish insisted, turning him around and reaching up to take his face between her hands, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Share the burden. You think we would rather have you die than any of us?"
He looked away again, but she just turned him back around. "Giorno, we are here for you. You never have to feel bad about coming to us with your pain." She lowered one hand to rest over his heart. "Let us help carry the burden of the past. Don't just cover it up by hurting yourself more."
Giorno's shoulders suddenly slumped, seeming to have no more energy to keep himself upright. Trish pulled him into a firm embrace as his head lowered to rest on her shoulder. It was a second before she noticed that he was glowing and she felt her heart lift slightly, realizing that Gold Experience was finally finishing up healing his injuries.
But when Giorno pulled away, there was an odd expression on his face. He pulled down one shoulder of his robe and Trish gasped.
Veins of gold now traced across Giorno's arms and chest. Wherever there had been a scar the spot was now filled with gold that glinted in the sunlight.
Giorno stared, perplexed, as he ran his fingers over a particularly deep vein of gold on his shoulder. "This…"
"It's beautiful, but…I don't understand," Trish managed.
Giorno suddenly looked thoughtful as he continued to trace his now golden scars. "There's… an old Japanese tradition to fix broken pottery with gold. It's called kintsugi. I suppose…that this is Gold Experience's compromise."
"I think it's an acceptable compromise," Trish said and leaned forward to kiss a vein of gold that traced over Giorno's collarbone before she looked up at him before softly resting her fingers above his heart. "Perhaps someday, the same will happen to the other scars."
Giorno offered the first genuine smile she had seen all day. Small, but earnest. "Maybe it will."