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"You're so adorable."
Giorno whispered as he hovered above Fugo, eyeing the boy beneath him with sheer intensity. He looked quite beautiful on his bed, with the only light present being a lamp on Giorno's nightstand that shone just enough for Giorno to make out Fugo's features. He looked like he belonged there, right under him, while Giorno's hair framed his pretty face.
Giorno ran a hand through the boy's hair before letting it fall back on the sheets. He only held one singular strand between his fingers. White. It seemed Fugo's roots were growing out once again. He grinned at the thought of helping Fugo dye it again. Giorno brought the hair to his mouth and pressed a kiss to it, all the while keeping his eyes on Fugo's face, taking in his expression.
The other boy just stared up at him in silence, still and limp as he allowed Giorno to hold him and grab him how he wanted. His expression was blank, empty to any regular person, but not to Giorno. Giorno knew Fugo. He could tell by the way his brows weren't furrowed like they usually were, and he could tell by the way his jaw was relaxed that Fugo was content. That he felt safe. The boy clicked his tongue and turned his head away from him, and Giorno chuckled softly at the small blush he could spot on Fugo's cheeks and at the tips of his ears. "You always say that."
The smile on Giorno's face widened at the tone of his voice. He dropped his hair and ducked his head, his lips hovering just above Fugo's, their breaths mingling together. He snaked his hand down to Fugo's and interlocked their fingers together, then pinned Fugo's hand against the mattress.
"Well, of course."
Giorno's voice came out as a quiet murmur as he slowly ran his hand down Fugo's bare chest. Fugo's body was a treasure to him, even if Fugo himself couldn't see it. He loved that pale complexion of his, he loved every single scar, self inflicted or not. The only thing that bothered him was just how skinny Fugo was. If he wanted to, he could count every individual rib on his chest. But, at the same time, he couldn't help but find his suffering beautiful. His pain was proof that Fugo real person. Much more than Giorno could say regarding his own humanity.
"You're someone who I could crush in an instant if I felt like it."
His voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke, giving Fugo's hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. He grabbed his wrist, ignoring that he mostly felt bone, and brought Fugo's arm to his face, closing his eyes as he spoke against his skin.
"I just find you..so adorable."
Fugo's wrist was cold against his lips, his scars jagged against his mouth. His expression cracked, but he quickly wrapped his arms around Fugo's shoulders and hid his face in his neck before the boy could see him slip.
Giorno was capable of a lot. He could stuff his entire ear into his head, he could create a living being out of a piece of garbage, he could take over the entire mafia at just age fifteen and keep it running. But despite everything he could do, despite every insane little thing he had the ability to carry out, he could not bring back the dead. And he could not help Pannacotta Fugo. He couldn't get rid of his suffering. He could offer to assist him, and he could offer to carry every weight for him or at least with him, but no matter how much his heart ached for him, he just could not fix him. All of these feelings that Giorno had never felt for anyone before didn't matter. Fugo was just so..fragile.