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YOUR HEART IS LIKE A GREAT RIVER AFTER A LONG SPELL OF RAIN, SPILLING OVER ITS BANKS.  ALL SIGNPOSTS THAT ONCE STOOD ON THE GROUND ARE GONE, INUNDATED AND CARRIED AWAY BY THAT RUSH OF WATER.  AND STILL THE RAIN BEATS DOWN ON THE SURFACE OF THE RIVER.  EVERY TIME YOU SEE A FLOOD LIKE THAT ON THE NEWS YOU TELL YOURSELF: THAT’S IT.  THAT’S MY HEART.  INDEPENDENT BRUNO BUCCELLATI.

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leneemusing​:

softer prompts

“  i’m not going anywhere.  ” “  you make me feel safe.  ”   “  i think i might be in love with you.  ” “  i just like seeing you happy.  ” “  just let me take care of you.  ” “  you’re my family.  ” “  i can stay, if you want.  ” “  you make me feel alive.  ” “  you’re captivating.  ” “  i want you to know i’ll always be here for you. whatever you need.  ” “  you don’t have to tell me anything, we can just sit here.  ” “  i trust you. more than anyone else.  ” “  you have a beautiful soul.  ” “  i feel like i could watch you all day. everything you do has a touch of magic to it.  ” “  i hope i see you in my dreams.  ” “  do you trust me?  ” “  you don’t ever have to pretend. not with me. not ever.  ” “  i love you, every part of you. even the parts you don’t like.  ” “  you make everything a little easier.  ” “  will you just…hold me? please.  ” “  just tell me everything’s gonna be okay.  ” “  you’re enough. you’re more than enough.  ” “  you have my heart in your hands. be gentle with it.  ” “  i wanna be the one you go to. the first one you tell when there’s something good. the shoulder to cry on when it’s bad. and every mundane thing in between. i want to share it all with you.  ” “  i have faith in you.  ” “  i’ve never met anyone quite like you.  ” “  knowing you is like…coming home. like i’ve finally found something that’s been missing all this time.  ” “  every hard thing in my life feels worth it. it all led me to you.  ” “  i feel like i could endure anything as long as i have you to come home to.  ” “  i can tell something’s bothering you.  ” “  what can i do to help?  ” “  come on. let’s get out of here.  ” “  i’m taking you somewhere special.  ” “  where are you taking me?  ” “  i don’t need grand gestures or declarations of love. i just need you. all of you.  ” “  you make me feel like i’m worthy.  ” “  you deserve good things.  ” “  i want to be your home.  ” “  loving you is like something holy.  ” “  i made you something.  ” “  come back to bed.  ” “  stay the night with me.  ” “  are you sure you’re okay?  ” “   you wanna talk about it?  ” “  did you wanna tell me something?  ”  “  you’ll always have me.  ” “  i’m proud of you.  ”   “  i need you.  ” “  thank you. for always being there for me.  ” “  don’t ever let anyone make you doubt your worth.  ” “  i’m not leaving you. not ever.  ”   “  you have kind eyes.  ”   “  sleep, my love. i’ll keep the nightmares away.  ”   “  there’s so much light in you.  ” “  i want you here.  ”  

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love from a distance, richard siken

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@arcitraditore​ said :    “have you shot a gun before, giorno?”

giorno holds the gun cautiously, at first unsure of how to answer — in theory, yes. his stepfather kept one lazily hidden inside the third kitchen drawer, away from the cutlery in a thin veiled pretense at safety. the man had barely used it for anything other than shooting empty beer cans or the occasional rat that would find its way into the tall grasses of their backyard, a seemingly cruel entertainment for an undoubtedly cruel man.

he had handed it to giorno once: placed it between chubby fingers with a dark curiosity shining in his eyes and had called it a bonding ritual. giorno saw it for what it really was: seeing if he had the guts. his hands —barely capable of understanding the sheer weight of it, how mortified he’d been to find that it was way heavier than it looked— trembled as he held a tiny finger on the trigger, never quite daring to shoot; not to the used cans perched atop old discarded furniture, much less to the peaceful bird preening on the fence.

the gun had been quickly snatched away with a sound of disappointment, but no real punishment came.

he had seen a kid not much older than he was at the time point one at a human being, too, with a conviction that took giorno years to develop. he’d said, you’re scum, with tears running down his face, and at the time it had made giorno wonder how easier it would be to point such a deadly thing at someone who deserved it. how easier it’d be to shoot.

now, he vaguely considers giving the gun back to buccellati. gold experience ca second skin resting partially next to his own, a sensation no one but a stand user could understand— is reassuring enough. more effective, too. but it seems wiser to keep it. wiser than reveling the nature of his stand to whoever crosses him, at least.

giorno eyes it, then buccellati, one last time before putting it away, and does not miss the weight of the metal against his hand, nor how it seems to fit it better now.  “no...” he says, “not in a way that matters. i’ve never needed to.”

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regarding giorno’s mental health,  i want to say that as much hope and help the random gangster gave him,  it’s clear those brief acts of kindness don't erase the fact that for the first half of his life giorno was neglected and abused by both his family and his peers,  and obviously that’s gonna leave a mark,  especially on a sensitive child such as giorno  ( with a life giver stand! one that evolved to ‘heal’ people! but that’s a conversation for another day ).  that he’s still affected by his childhood is an indisputable fact.  

however, it’s the same the other way around!  that he was neglected and abused as a child doesn’t erase the fact that he did get help eventually ( albeit in a rather unconventional way )  and that the hope and confidence that one simple act of kindness from a stranger gave him was enough to put him in a much better spot mentally by the time vento aureo comes around.  he’s not the same depressed,  i’m-worse-than-scum person he was when he was a kid,  thanks to the gangster’s influence.  that’s also indisputable. 

this is not to say he doesn’t struggle,  of course he does!  especially after that damn long week,  i think he finds himself very easily falling back into old bad habits— closing himself off or (over)analyzing people's reactions to him and his presence.  shaking because Crying Is Useless.  it’s his response to trauma:  stoicism,  reading everyone and everything to see what his next action should be:  it’s what makes sense for him.

on top of that,  he’s never given anyone a reason to doubt him,  so when he says ‘yes i’m fine’,  that’s final!  and why wouldn’t it be?  why would anyone question Ever Optimist Giorno with his ambitious dream and his fierce,  unstoppable determination?  it’s very hard to look past that golden boy front,  especially when he makes the effort of not letting others see because he’s got priorities  ( which in this case means exclusively passione and stopping the drug trade ),  his dream means more to him than anything else,  feelings cannot come in the way of it.  

don’t think for one second that he’s as subtle or sly as he thinks he is though;  figuring him out is as easy as paying attention,  and without people trying to kill them on a daily basis,  without them constantly being on a ‘fight or die’ mode,  someone is bound to pay attention.  and then,  what?  giorno caught off guard sucks at lying  ( his first fight with bruno is the perfect example of this— he tries to get around it but bruno already knows his baseline ),  but he is not the kind of person to deny other people’s help when he knows he needs it either.  why would he lie to his friends?  he doesn’t!  

the keywords here are ‘when he knows he needs it’.  he doesn’t know,  not really.  it’s not that giorno’s clueless or emotionally unintelligent:  naturally,  he knows when something is wrong,  but he has been dealing with that kind of stuff on his own ever since he was a little kid that it’s difficult for him to be able to say,  honestly,  maybe i do need help  ( yes,  he has nightmares sometimes,  but all he needs is get up and go on a walk.  yes,  sometimes he’ll get so tense his joints ache afterward,  he just needs to notice before it gets too bad.  yes, sometimes his body will beg him to cry and he can’t and won’t do it, no matter how bad he wants and tries, that’s fine!  not everyone cries.  he can deal with it.  he’s always dealt with it ).  

it’s not  ‘giorno neglects his feelings’  or  ‘giorno makes sure no one knows how he is because he doesn’t want them to worry’.   it’s  ‘giorno keeps his emotions to himself because that’s what he knows how to do’. 

he’s not at risk of falling apart under the pressure of being the boss / his mental health / etc. absolutely not.  giorno is very good at logic and strategizing,  pulling details apart so that he ends up on top of things,  and that does include his own mental state;  he doesn’t overwork himself.  he doesn’t stop eating or sleeping or doing the things he always does because it’s simply not practical.  he pulls himself out of the hole the best he can and that’s that!  it works.  but it’s not a healthy way of dealing with the aftermath of seeing his friends die violently / almost dying himself / the rest of the mess that was va.  his mind goes at 100 mph and though he’s not necessarily quiet ( at least not when it matters ),  he is very introspective.  he lets his thoughts simmer so much that it’s inevitable he’ll end up spiraling down every once in a while.  

he has been conditioned to do things by himself and when he suddenly finds himself not alone anymore,  it’s extremely weird.  but at the end of the day,  it doesn't mean he won’t allow himself to be vulnerable under any circumstances if someone cares,  or if someone asks.  vulnerability is all about trusting— and if there’s something giorno knows how to do,  it’s trusting other people.

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righteous  actions  born  from  reality  will  never  be  annihilated.   buccellati  is  dead…   and  so  are  abbacchio…   and  narancia…   but,   their  actions  and  wills  have  not  been  annihilated.   THEY  ARE  THE  ONES  WHO  GAVE  ME  THIS  ARROW.   //                independent giorno giovanna,           by sabs.

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the landscape of your soul.

volcanic fissure vent.    your soul sinks.  the earth around it as loose as cotton,  it sinks and sinks until it joins the core of the earth.  there it feels at home in the magma,  in the heat!  your thoughts,  your feelings – they glow as vividly as the molten rock.  you go through the world looking for that which will ignite a fire in you!  and the things that do bask in your glow.  you could hold an ordinary river rock and,  in your hand,  it would be gold. your passion flows over and lucky are those who are witness to it!  do not give in to the pressure to present yourself in more palatable ways,  demureness serves you badly.  know the power you hold and your worth!  your spark, your ardor – they ignite a fire in those around you as it nurtures your own.  magma spews from the earth and erects mountains,  creates islands,  makes land were there wasn’t one,  life where there wasn’t any.  you – the creator. you – creative force.  to read a book is never just a passive action,  by consuming you create!  you interpret,  you visualize,  you analyze.  you fill the story with you!  and what beauty and thrill do you add!

tagged by:  i am but a simple thief. tagging:  feel free to take it too!

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naranciao​.

giorno takes no prisoners, something narancia has always found deeply entertaining. even when he is on the receiving end of that skeptical scrutiny, narancia feigns a bit of innocence, wide violet eyes blinking right back at giorno.

          “me? don’tcha know i’m just a natural at video games?”  fat lie. he doesn’t uphold it for long, though, the telling waggle of his brows and impishly melting gaze setting into narancia’s expression. he goes on, almost sing-song,  “never said i didn’t suck. what matters is that i’m good now, so i got braggin’ rights!”

          rights he will have to prove, too, if he is so determined to make good on them. that won’t be a problem. if there is one thing he has learned from buccellati it is this: talk biggest after acting on it. of course, he has taken countless other lessons from buccellati. shockingly enough, the trick to beating this level is one of them.

          with the help welcomed, narancia leans over and eases his left thumb over giorno’s. the other thumb reaches around his shoulders, settling over the buttons of the right side’s interface. there is a trained mash of controls before narancia pirouettes through the first half of the level, slowing once he reaches that latest bane of giorno’s life.

         “’kay, so it’s gonna be way easier if you charge this attack here,”  he nods down at the analog stick, where he guides giorno’s thumb.  “tap x, then y, but y’gotta watch out for…”

          he continues advising giorno intently, instructions precise with no shortage of clarity. narancia does not get many opportunities to do the teaching, though they will find that is not from any lack of ability. he intuitively measures giorno’s proficiency and proceeds accordingly, not too fast and not too slow. soon enough narancia tilts his head to glance at him,  “—got it? try that on the next one. you can do it!”

they say patience is a virtue,   and if there’s something giorno has,   it’s that;   he stares at narancia with unrelentingly calm eyes until the expression on the other’s face makes the teasing grin on his own shift into a proper,   almost amused smile — he’s willing to give him that,   at least:   narancia is clearly good at something giorno is not.   enough for him to have earned those bragging rights.

he glances back briefly as narancia’s arms all but envelop him,   momentarily overwhelmed by the close proximity he himself allowed.   it’s nothing to worry — soon his eyes shift back onto the screen and how narancia runs through the rest of the level with practiced fingers,   guiding giorno’s thumb with his own with ease.

the explanation does little to help,   truthfully,   but giorno is loath to admit that when his friend’s explanation is as clear as it could get.   perhaps he’s not made to play video games the way the rest of them do,   with their brows furrowed in concentration and a natural predisposition to it.   perhaps it’s just a game and it’s not meant to be taken seriously,   but hell,   he’s determined to get through at least this one on his own.   giorno finds himself nodding along,   committing the quick smash of buttons and the soft press of narancia’s thumb on his own to memory.   if strategy won’t help him,   then that will do.

a last nod and giorno leans back as well,   the small smile back on his face.   he quirks an eyebrow — coming from anyone else,   the enthusiasm would feel almost mocking and out of place,   but it’s narancia,   so giorno believes it.   looking back at the screen,   his resolve comes back tenfold.   “  you are good at this...  ”   he hums,   shaking his hands the slightest bit to move narancia's fingers out of the way.   

with that done,   he purposefully lets the character die to restart the level,   though a brief pause follows before he presses the start button.   “  ...do you want to bet?  ”

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strawberryrots​.

fugo knows that look but the color came in blue instead of green. he has as little of a fighting chance at convincing either of them abide by his concerns. though was just as much the same as them. pulled along by the hand unable to refute how his mind just breaks off from it’self. he’d find his bed peacefully that night, the cycle repeats. “i’m not.” what did he always do in these sorta of situations. it’s a far but familiar friend. “you don’t pay me by the hour anyway…” fugo decides letting his fingers slip off from the folder. he leaves without much prompt after that, before returning later with a smaller chair. he’s considerate to this old estate making sure the feet don’t scratch along the hardwood as he sits at the edge of giorno’s desk. “we can at least turn it into an hours worth of work.”

it’s not a win — giorno tells himself the second fugo leaves the room that he’s meant to come back,   sooner or later.   he strains his ears briefly but turns his attention back to the folders on his desk when he’s unable to make out anything other than the scuffle of shoes against old carpet;   he does not mind waiting.   with fugo gone,   giorno indulges in the luxury of yawning,   a drawn out thing to expel the sleep clinging to him and that has him blinking tears away from his eyes at the end of it.   it’s sobering,   almost.

as fugo carries the chair to the edge of his desk,   giorno pushes one of the many closed folders scattered atop it towards his corner,   a pile of papers inside that needs assortment and nothing more.   “  thank you...  ”   simple.   easy to do.   extremely helpful anyway.   it’s hardly out of consideration for fugo or the extra hours he insists giorno does not pay — no,   it’s just the other things he would rather do himself.   “  perhaps i should start paying you by the hour...  ”

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strawberryrots​.

fugo pinches the fabric and folds it over to reveal a ugly jagged hem; a messy knot holds it all together. “it used to fray, but one of the old ladies around town told me that i could just fold this raw edge and sew it down,” thus cleaning up his overall appearance. (and honestly it was for the better) his earlier suits still have jagged holes and most of them are crooked some could barely be called a circle but with every new suit he slowly gets better. his stitches get straighter and as he sewed one of narancia’s straps back onto his shirt he officially acquired a new life skill. 

“so if you need something to sew..i could always help.”

giorno watches the previously hidden hem with concealed curiosity,   a curt nod that does not transmit the interest he feels at his new discovery.   the stitches are far from perfect,   even from a modest distance he can tell,   but they’ve not fallen apart either — there’s something to be said about that,   about the strength of the thread or the way fugo sewed it together.   he looks up and nods again,   only a bit more enthusiastically.   “  i could learn...  ”   he’d never needed to;   as a child he’d been careful enough as to not accidentally tear any of his clothes,   lest there weren’t any replacements or his father got upset at him for it,   and years later the old woman two houses down the road would help him if he asked her to,   until he moved to the school campus.

“  i have some old suits that need a touch up or two,   for practice.   but...  ”   he smiles,   a little flick of his finger to the edge of fugo's sleeve.   “  not this,   i don’t think i can pull it off...  ”

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@arcitraditore​ said :  🍓 m-maybe?

* spongegar meme * ah my opportunity!  it’s ecto appreciation hours!!  okay alright,  you know,  i’m not exaggerating one bit when i say that the dedication you have for each character you write is just mind blowing and a big reason why it feels like you understand your muses like absolutely no one else does.  when i say you’re the owner of mister bruno buccellati himself?  i 100% mean that from the bottom of my heart!!  the way you take care to scrutinize every little aspect of his character,  even the most banal ones,  those parts of him that most people wouldn’t even care to look at,  makes him not only likable but also so incredibly human and i literally can’t get enough of it!!  i always read what my mutuals post because i love seeing people care for the characters they write but with your blog it’s like i’m enthusiastically waiting on the edge of my chair to see what you’re gonna come up with next because i just know it’s gonna be great  ( yes,  that includes mustache buccellati ).  when i first started this blog i wasn’t sure what to make of it because i had literally just finished va and i didn’t really know anyone but you made me feel so welcomed and like,  included??  and i honestly owe a bunch of my interpretation of giorno to the little ( well... ) talks i’ve had with you about him and bruno and.  it’s just * clenches fist * so nice and engaging to talk to you i love it.  i love you :chef’s kiss:

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@strawberryrots​ said :    🍓

CHLOEE it’s loving chloe hours :flushed: okay alright i’m gonna admit.. something now that i get the chance to do it,  and it is that you’re seriously the one that made me like fugo!!!  i left vento aureo feeling kinda meh about him then i started following you and i just...  yeah!!!  i love one (1) Fugi boy.  it’s so so nice to talk to you about everything,  be it jjl or how much i love and support empty coke even if people like to make fun of her.  even if she’s a horse... well anyway.   you’re soooo talented i’m literally in awe every time you post a headcanon or a drawing or whatever!!!  it’s beautiful!!  and i have so much fun reading your dissections of a character most people treat like shit or sitting with you when you stream or just.  ugh you’re such a nice,  dedicated person and i’m glad we know each other!!   also you know,  i got to make my island all pretty because of all the bells you gifted me so you know what?? i owe you :pensive:  

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@naranciao​ said :  🍓 i offer a starwbebbie but no pressure ♡♡

okay okay listen we haven’t talked much but you’re such a delight to have on the dash i’m not even kidding,  you have such nice Vibes and your energy is really contagious, i love to see it!!!  the way you write narancia is so endearing that i just wanna pick him up while also being accurate and whenever i can i read your replies or,  even more,  your tags!!  because it’s just!!  nice to see!!  the way your writing flows is so nice and engaging i :ok hand emoji: love it.  taking this moment to also compliment your diego because excuse me??  canon diego exists?  and he lives here,  on tumblr dot com?  ugh!! your brain is Huge and i’m glad we’re mutuals because that means i get to see it in real time!  oh also you’re very funny i swear if i ever find a post funnier than the one(s) you have i will not be able to cope with it,  it’s just where i am right now.  in conclusion,

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a collection of starters adapted from benjamin alire sáenz’s novel ‘ aristotle & dante discover the secrets of the universe ’  /  change pronouns as necessary.

part one  /  part two

   — letters on a page

❛  that’s part of her charm.  ❜ ❛  it was just a dream.  ❜ ❛  you’re fighting your own private wars.  ❜ ❛  i’m still thinking about that kiss.  ❜ ❛  not that i know a damn thing about love.  ❜ ❛  what the hell was wrong with that guy?  ❜ ❛  kissing didn’t mean a damn thing.  ❜

   — remember the rain

❛  are you going to spend your life beating up on yourself?  ❜ ❛  maybe i’ll fall in love.  ❜ ❛  i’ll never lie to you about anything.  ❜ ❛  maybe everyone loves differently.  ❜ ❛  she always made me feel so loved.  ❜ ❛  i don’t understand why you’re so upset.  ❜ ❛  do you wish i was dead?  ❜ ❛ it feels so crazy.  ❜ ❛  the world would be lucky to have more people like her.  ❜ ❛  i hardly recognized her.  ❜ ❛  there are too many secrets in the world.  ❜

   — all the secrets of the universe

❛  i thought you two talked about everything.  ❜ ❛  we’re just like everyone else in the world.  ❜ ❛  how well do you know him?  ❜ ❛  i knew i had to say something to him, but i didn’t know what.  ❜ ❛  i should’ve been here.  ❜ ❛  everybody needs a friend.  ❜ ❛  i wanted to beat the holy shit out him right then and there.  ❜ ❛  what do you want me to say?  ❜ ❛  don’t screw with me, asshole.  ❜ ❛  i need you to tell me why.  ❜ ❛  i didn’t know i could love you this much.  ❜ ❛  to be careful with people & with words is a rare and beautiful thing.  ❜ ❛  the bastard left you there to die.  ❜ ❛  in my head, i was kissing you.  ❜ ❛  why would you risk your own life to save him if you didn’t love him?  ❜ ❛  how can you love me so much?  ❜ ❛  this whole friend thing, i can’t do it.  ❜ ❛  i don’t want to talk about that.  ❜ ❛  i wasn’t afraid anymore.  ❜

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a collection of starters adapted from the blog ‘ martyrsuggestions ’  /  change pronouns as necessary.

❛  i have bled a thousand times and only now do i realize my sins.  ❜ ❛  maybe i was the spider — maybe i am rancid and sick.  ❜ ❛  sing me down gently into restful sleep.  ❜ ❛  you are unfathomable, beautiful, terrifying and frail.  ❜ ❛  i would not love you if i knew you’d destroy me.  ❜ ❛  i hate how i love you.  ❜ ❛  i don’t know what love is but i know that you are not it.  ❜ ❛  die for me for once.  ❜ ❛  do you fear my disappearance as i fear my own death?  ❜ ❛  i am the devil’s favorite child.  ❜ ❛  my body is sore and my heart is bleeding.  ❜ ❛  when will i be free of your crimes?  ❜ ❛  i would not have sinned had it not been for her.  ❜ ❛  if you can’t feel pain you aren’t human.  ❜ ❛  they like to ignore it when you feel pain.  ❜ ❛  go down a savage, go down fighting.  ❜ ❛  i know eventually i shall be okay.  ❜ ❛  if only you understood yourself.  ❜ ❛  i found my own gods.  ❜ ❛  i want to be loved.  ❜ ❛  where the fuck were you?  ❜ ❛  no beauty in the world anymore.  ❜ ❛  can you love me forever and ever?  ❜ ❛  boy, i’m no good for you.  ❜ ❛  i dont take solace in my friends, and i suffer for it.  ❜ ❛  i am better off dead.  ❜ ❛  there is nothing new under the sun.  ❜ ❛  love is so…unfair — so sad and beautiful.  ❜

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strawberryrots​.

@goldreams  // 🍓

‘ zzz ’ well :-)

fugo reaches and pushes giorno’s ring binder closed, he holds it there with the end of his index finger and puts the rest of his weight on an open stack of papers on giorno’s desk. he’s weary so the professional divide fugo puts up between the public and the private hallways of the villa quickly fold.

“if you don’t sleep…i don’t sleep..” and as long as giorno lingers within this office space fugo feels morally responsible in making sure his don doesn’t fall apart from exhaustion. though there’s no doubt the signs of wake look worse on fugo than they ever did giorno he counts his hours carefully. 

the deep set fatigue that weights his body offers a momentary rest from restlessness — though the nights they’d spent too wired,   too worried,   to sleep properly were nearly forgotten,   just another indistinct part of their journey,   he finds comfort in the exhaustion that comes with getting things done:   giorno dreams,   asleep and awake,   and no one has ever stepped in front of those dreams hard enough to make him stop.   not back then,   and even less now — so he eyes fugo with a slight frown,   refuses to rub the bridge of his nose despite the burning at the corner of his eyes has been begging him to do so for at least half an hour.

“  it’s only another hour...   two,   at most.  ”   stubbornness means nothing to a stubborn man himself,   but giorno attempts to move fugo’s finger aside,   the beginning of a motion,   a suggestion for him to do it instead.   “  i’d prefer to get this done tonight but...   there’s no need for you to keep me company.   go home,   fugo.  ”

[affidarsi]

quirofiliac​.

@goldreams​  ∕ ✍️

He’s seen him a few times (those few times were a few too many, in his opinion.) meandering about, as all teenagers tend to do. They were always so rambunctious in that age… Kira couldn’t relate, but he assumed that it would be normal if he had.

It’s easy to fake and fake it he does. It’s deceivingly simple in process– he recalls watching groups of children run amok, go wherever they please and almost seem to disregard the existence of “rules”. To that, he could relate (at least, somewhat.) to.

Admittedly, it was unnerving to witness. Whenever children were doing it, anyway.

“Can I… help you?” he heard himself asking, noting the sheer lack of conviction (what was the point? he doubted that this kid was going to listen to him, anyway.) to be found within his voice. In truth, he’s tempted to take a small side-step and continue on with his day, but the thought of the kid copying him to keep him still was more than enough to halt this procedure. “Actually, shouldn’t you be in school?”

Summer’s blistering hear said otherwise, practically staring itself down the back of Kira’s neck and burrowing past his collar in the form of sweat. It’s tempting, almost, to rub at his neck and swipe it away, but he’d only add more.

“Ah, wait… Never mind. I’ve forgotten– school just ended for you about a week ago, didn’t it?”

His palms were feeling awfully clammy, and he’s resisting the urge to draw out his small bottle of lotion. He shrugged it off, physically doing so rather poorly.

A sigh escaped with Kira making an attempt, anyway, at stepping around him.

“You should enjoy your break, then.”

haruno remembers something his grandmother had told him,   as he stands in front of the man with his shoulders back and his chin up — honey you’re too reckless,   her face scrunched up in worry yet her tone remained sweet.   she was right,   though only partially:   reckless implied not thinking things through,   but thinking had all haruno had done about this — it had taken a lot of courage to come here.   admittedly,   way more than he’d like to admit;   but it was one thing to pickpocket a clueless,   rude tourist,   and another entirely different to do...   this.

gold experience lingers at the edge of his consciousness,   a step away from detaching itself from him,   always silent but not without judgement.   he’s never used his ability to fight another human.   haruno watches him stumble over his words,   lips pressed in a thin line,   and wonders how likely it would be for him to win  (  not very likely.   he also has one,   doesn’t he?  ).

the topic of school brings a sour taste to his mouth,   one haruno swallows like one would swallow a rock,   abruptly as to not drag it out.   it would be easy to imagine his friend somewhere nice like egypt or france,   enjoying the warm weather and the time left of vacation with his family until the next year — but the recent news sound like a broken record in his mind and he cannot help the almost scoff that leaves him.   enjoy his break?   right.

when the moment comes for haruno to step to the side as well,   he does so subtly but swiftly — his message is clear.   

the part of him that wants to get this over with conflicts with the one that wants answers but he does not want to make a scene,   and so haruno’s frown deepens.   no niceties to begin with,   he says,   “  you shouldn’t be here...  ”