"Here."

Giorno held the napkin out with a small sigh, his golden brows dipping in that familiar, gentle disapproval he so often reserved only for his twin. Out of the two, he’d always been the careful one—the one who thought ahead, kept things tidy, made sure they didn’t fall apart. It wasn’t a burden, not really. It was simply who he was… and who they were together.

"I told you to stop picking fights."

he murmured, not scolding so much as stating a truth he’d repeated countless times, his voice low with that quiet warmth only reserved for his twin.

Two peas in a pod. Birds of a feather. And no matter how reckless one got or how often the other had to clean up the aftermath, they would always stick together… because in a world as cruel and strange as theirs, they were all they had.