fatealteration | (no subject)

"If there's no other way, there's no other way." He didn't have to like it, but there was no other choice.

"I'm ready when you are, grandson!" Joseph gave Giono a little salute.

Even if he said it with his usual irreverent tone, Joseph’s faith felt good.

Giorno went back and forth with Caesar about the best place to do things and they determined it would be the bed. If he got weak he would have a safe place to fall. Even if it was only an incredibly low dose, they weren’t sparing any risks. When he settled down to sit with Caesar behind him, vial in hand, Giorno reflected on how little he’d actually slept in his own bed at that point. Joseph had made greater use of it in the past week and Giorno—usually intensely protective over his own space—hadn’t minded. Those thoughts passed through his mind as he downed the clear fluid in the vial.

Right away, Giorno felt warm. He didn’t know if it was the poison or the Hamon flowing through him from his back. Gold Experience to was to his front. He didn’t need his stand out but he always felt better with it there. It was the only constant companion he’d had. He reached out to touch it—solid, warm, consistent. His own focus was reflected back in its face as it worked.

“How are you feeling, Giorno?” Caesar asked, his hands firmly on his back.

“I’m fine.”

Joseph wished he had something he could do. He knew better than to interrupt their focus with his speaking. So instead he gave Giorno a gentle pat on the head, as if to say "You're doing good, grandson".

Giorno didn’t notice Joseph was touching at first—and when he did, he looked up and just smiled a slightly dazed and faraway smile. His mouth moved but no words came out.

Seeing this as a sign he liked it, he gave Giorno's hair a toussle.

“Giorno.” Caesar swallowed thickly. “Your breathing is slowing. Keep pace with me.”

“Oh…sorry.” Giorno clung to the directive, but his lungs felt heavy. Gold Experience began to fade and he lost his balance sitting upright, tilting over and falling against Joseph’s chest.

"Just like this."

Joseph too kept his breathing in tempo with Caesar, just in case it helped.

Giorno was grinning and he wasn't sure why. He rubbed his forehead against the firm surface of Joseph's collar. "I want to go to Starita...let's get a fried angioletti..."

"Sure, sure," Joseph said agreeably, though he found Giorno's sudden affectionate tone startling. "Whatever you want after this."

Even though barely a minute had passed, it felt like a lifetime. Giorno’s breath was uneven, but he was still upright—

Cough

A sharp metallic smell hit his nose. He pulled the boy back slightly to see a mess of blood pouring from his mouth onto Joseph’s shirt.

!!

"Hey, Giorno!" Joseph gave Giorno a shake, trying to rouse him.

Giorno’s eyes were glassy, unburdened by the effort of focusing. Everything was foggy outlines of light that cut into the shadows before vanishing. His thoughts ruptured into nonsense before dissipating. Joseph’s words bounced around the air before reaching his ears.

“…Mn?” He squinted, but it didn’t help. Everything was dark. He reached up with effort to touch the person’s face in front of him.

Ah.

Everything came back into view, his entire world narrowed to one pinpoint. He knew who this was at once. This was a face he could never forget.

“Padre…sei qui?”

’He’s hallucinating.’

Caesar ignored the panic rising in his throat—-whatever he did, he couldn’t lose focus on his form. He could feel Giorno’s blood vessels rupturing, and he focused one hand over the broadest part of his back to focus the energy into renewing them. The other went to the base of his neck to stabilize his nervous system.

“Jojo.” Caesar nodded urgently to the towel on the bed stand. “Clean him up. Remind him to breathe.”

Caeasar did not need to ask twice. Joseph ripped off his shirt and dabbed at Giorno's face.

Joseph gave Giorno's face a squeeze to make sure he was listening.

"Hey, breathe in time with me."

He grabbed Giorno's hand and pressed it against his chest, and breathed in, then out again. In and out.

His father was asking him to breathe? That was easy. His father could have asked for his beating heart and he would have reached into his own chest to give it to him.

So Giorno did—the pain was distant and meaningless. The exhaustion was nothing. The fear was nothing.

“It’s working. Keep going.” Caesar could feel it—whatever the poison was doing to him, it was slowing.

"Yeah, keep going." Joseph kept breathing in an out as he held Giorno's hand against his chest.

‘My heart…?’ He was breathing. When he breathed, it was beating in time. He could feel it.

But…was it his? Whose heart was it?

It was hot—everything was hot. His head. His chest. His hand. His lungs. Clarity returned, but so did pain. Giorno doubled over and coughed on his next lungful, blood clearing from his airways.

"There, there," Joseph said, dabbing Giorno's face with his bloodied shirt.

The worst of the pain ebbed away with the gentle and precise hands at his back. His mind was still cloudy but the loose threads of his thoughts steadily weaved back into place. He sniffed against the cloth, looking from it to the man in front of him.

“…Why are you shirtless?” Giorno asked, voice muffled.

Joseph let out a little chuckle as he lifted up his now-bloodied shirt.

“Oh.”

At the sight of his own blood, the dizziness hit. Giorno fell back, though he was deftly caught by Caesar.

“Ah…I’m sorry. I’ll have…another one prepared for you.”

"It's fine, it's fine," Joseph reassured him with the wave of his hand. "You okay?"

“I’m alright. Thank you. Both of you.” He had said those words impatiently so many times during everyone’s fretting for the last week, but for the first time they were heartfelt.

Giorno swept a hand through his messy sweat-damp hair, accepting a glass of water from Caesar. “Now…without further delay, please. It may be a bit awkward, but you’ll need to drink my blood.”