Gold And Sapphires (JJBA)

Ripples

'Oh,' Giorno thinks, feeling the breath catch in his throat. Oh. And he would tell himself Joseph is simply lying by that'd feel like an insult to the pure and complete sincerity the older seems to display. "Is there anything more to it than that?" Giorno asks, suspenseful.

"Yes," Joseph sighs. "It's in the shake of your shoulders."

'Oh,' he thinks, for a whole different reason. Oh. Giorno bites his tongue, almost snaps. Instead, calmly; "I'm not trembling."

"Metaphorically," the elder says, eyes twinkling.

Giorno struggles to claw words from the turmoil of his mind. "Don't," he ends up saying. Ineloquent—unacceptable.

"Don't worry about it," the man chuckles. Giorno nearly twitches in annoyance. It seems unreasonable for someone to so casually and blatantly brush past the borders of Giorno's entire philosophy. "I'm glad," he continues, seemingly oblivious to the beehive he had just poked, "it makes me...proud."

The blonde cocks his head. "Proud?"

"Of course," Joseph says, looking fond. "It's brave of him, after all. He's my son, why wouldn't I be?"

"That's..." the boy shakes his head, uneasy. "I mean, is he...is that really bravery? He's scared, terrified, it's easy for anyone to tell."

Joseph gives him a strange look. "That's the very definition of bravery!"

Giorno bites the inside of his cheek; he has scars there from the number of times he does this. "To each their own," he says, eventually. It's a strange phrase to use in the face of anything objective. The response feels inadequate.

The elder frowns, rough on his old wrinkled face. "Well," he says, shrugging, "I was also wrong when I was your age."

"Joseph!" Suzie exclaims, halfway to scandalized.

"What!?" the old man protests, "It's not like I'm wrong!"

Giorno blinks, feels the thoughts in his head slow down—or speed into a frenzy. He isn't sure. But he knows that was an insult and he knows Joseph is wrong and he knows he really can't flame the fire. It'd be a terrible move to get into an argument with Joseph.

And, somewhere, in the back of his mind, he wonders if he would even be able to find the words to sustain his own argument. Of course, Giorno ignores this—because what is he without his iron-clad beliefs? Fear is a weakness and weakness has no place in strength. And what is strength without bravery?

Giorno is startled by Joseph's laugh. The elder is leaning back in his chair, shoulder's shaking; full of mirth. Previous matters almost seem to be forgotten. Of course, they aren't. Giorno doesn't forget, and there's a sharpness in the rounded edges of Joseph's eyes that communicate an uncanny understanding.

"Regardless," Joseph says, "I'm glad everything has gone so well."

The blonde pauses; it's a change of pace, but a welcome one. "Were you worried it wouldn't?"

"A little," the elder admits, small smile. "But it's turned out well," he gestures to the room, lively and full and overpowering in its warmth, "like this." The man sighs, sinks into the cushions of his rocking chair. "My family is happy and..." he looks to Giorno, soft in his disposition. "You really aren't too bad either. I had been a little bit worried but you're...good."

"Oh," the boy says, awkwardly. He shifts the weight on his feet. "Was there...anything else you were worried about?" He doesn't know what else to say.