El

“Show me again!”

“Alright, alright… Geez it’s just nails you know”

“Just nails?” You scoff “Just nails that can spin, and that can be shot like bullets!” It seems that no matter how long you spent in Johnny Joestar’s company, his stand, which he had decided to name Tusk, would never fail to impress you.

“Ew!” you shout and recoil while laughing when the blonde complies with your demand.

“Why do you keep asking to see if you’re gonna react like that every time?! Huh?!” He asks, willing his nails turn back to a normal colour from the blue they adorned when his stand was active.

“It freaks me out so much, I love it.” you reply in a giggle and turn back to the campfire set in front of you where your meal of the evening was still cooking. From the corner of your eye, you caught the sight of an Italian man sitting and sulking in a corner while trying to look as if he was readjusting his horse’s headpiece.

After your little group had made its way to monument valley, you had managed to catch up to the leading portion of the pack. However, Diego Brando had still won first place and if that wasn’t enough, both Johnny and you ended up in second and third place respectively, where Gyro had only scored fourth. You had tried to talk to him after the second stage had ended, but he brushed you off with a wave and a joke that he would just have to get you next time.

You had thought that was it when you all made your way to begin the Rocky Moutain Breakdown and he seemed relatively okay if only a little snarkier than usual. But now, after you had made camp for the first day of the week-long journey that was ahead of you, you could tell that something was wrong.

You glanced back at Johnny who was reaching for his dinner, seemingly oblivious to the bad mood radiating off of his companion. You understood why, since he was treating him relatively normally compared to you. You weren’t an idiot, you could sense he was upset you had finished ahead of him. What you didn’t understand was why he held a grudge against you but not your blonde teammate. You didn’t like not knowing the reason behind it, afraid miscommunications would jeopardize your relationship with your new friend.  

You stood up from your place near the fire and made your way over to where he was, under the pretense of calling out to Valkyrie.

“How are you beautiful girl? Not too tired?”

“I’ve seen worse. But if he moves my crownpiece one more time, I might have to bite his hand!” She puffed out, air flaring from her nostrils. You could sense how aggravated she was from her tone, and you were glad Gyro couldn’t understand what she had just said, otherwise he would’ve probably gotten more upset at being exposed for faking his occupation in order to avoid talking to you.

“What’d she say?” He spoke up but didn’t look at you. “She okay?”

You could always tell how much he cared for his mare in the way he spoke to and about her. “Sure, she said she’s seen worse.” -you deliberately left out the rest of her comment. “But how about you?” you cocked your head to the side as you asked your question, suddenly feeling nervous but wanting to clear the air regardless.

“Me? M’fine! Why wouldn’t I be?” He grumbled and still didn’t look at you, his hands stopping in their movements where they were still holding onto his horse.

His frustration couldn’t have been more apparent, and your shoulders dropped in disappointment. You really hated the unresolved tension coming from him, and it didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it, putting you in a sticky situation.

“Gyro…” You spoke his name softly, wanting to catch his attention in all seriousness. It worked, the sound of your voice finally making him look up at you. He always likes it when you call him. Sometimes he wonders how his real name would sound falling off your lips before he catches himself and banishes the thought away.

You sighed when he looked at you without saying anything. “I know you’re upset, I get it. I know we agreed we wouldn’t get in the way of your first place.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek and paused for a moment, thinking carefully about your next words before giving up on tact. “But why are you more mad at me than Johnny? He finished second, I didn’t.” You defended yourself and accused him of being unfair in the same breath, wanting to get this over with sooner rather than later.

He glanced at Johnny behind you, not paying much mind to the conversation you were having out of his earshot while enjoying his food. That guy is so oblivious, he thought. I wish she was too. “Well… Johnny doesn’t even care about the race. All he cares about is that corpse and the spin. But you…” His eyes focused back on you, seeing you were clearly expecting more from him. “… You joined to win, didn’t ya? And now you’re beating me, right after you said you would give up on it.”

“So what? You think I did it on purpose?” He wasn’t surprised at the slightly offended tone you took.

“Did you?” He leaned forward, clearly interested in your answer.

“No!” You lost your composure for a second, raising your voice a little higher than what you had wanted, which warranted a laugh from the Italian. Well that’s a win at least, after all it was the first time he’d smiled at you all day.

“Nyo-ho! Hit a nerve, did I?” He leaned back to his normal sitting position with a smirk plastered across his face. Apparently, getting a reaction out of you was a great cure for his brooding. You crouched down to his level and furrowed your eyebrows together.

“I’m serious Gyro. We’ve been traveling together for two weeks now and we still have the whole race to go through. I’m not going anywhere, and I meant what I said back before we reached Monument Valley.”

He eyed you in silence for a moment, and you reciprocated, both of you looking into the other’s eyes. Your faces were closer than you had anticipated and his green orbs bought you back to that night in the stables. He’d seemed so much more open about himself then, compared to how closed off he had been today. Although, back then, he was still observing you with the same piercing gaze you were under now, in this unexplainable fashion you, too, used to observe him.

“I’ll settle for second place, all I want is to see this through.” You grounded yourself in his eyes, looking back and forth between them. You needed him to know you were serious. “I can’t give up on the race… but I can give up on first place if it means I get to understand what’s at stake here, and where it leaves me, you know that. The finish line was an accident, nothing more.”

He kept quiet for a little longer, clearly weighing the sincerity of your words. He wanted to doubt you, truly, he did. But when you spoke to him in such earnest, you simply made it impossible and he hated that. He hated how little control he had over his own mind, his very own thoughts and himself whenever it came to you. He turned to face his horse once again.

“…Alright, just don’t go doing it again. Yeah?” He tried to sound as casual as he could, not wanting you to perceive the small storm raging inside of him.

You chuckled and stood back up. “I’ll try my best, now come and eat with us.”

-

He was a lot more agreeable in the following days, going back to his usual banter, alternating between making songs about how much his ass hurt from riding all day to stealing your hat and placing it on Johnny’s head when you weren’t looking, accusing him of the crime.

“Johnny! You haven’t washed yourself in days, give me that!” You complained loudly and bought your horse close to slow dancer to snatch your property back.

“It wasn’t me! I swear!” he defended himself while the Italian laughed behind you both.

“You! Again!” You turned to the sound of his laughter, silently vowing to have your revenge.

“Bambina, if I wanted to steal your little American hat I would hide it in a better place, don’t you think?” The nickname had caught you off guard for a split second, but you didn’t let it phase you as you realized that’s exactly what he was hoping to achieve.

“Yes of course… the same way you hide your little pink teddy bear under your sleeping bag?” you snickered, satisfied at the small revenge you had quickly achieved and turned back to look in front of you.

A shame really, otherwise you would’ve seen his face fall and the smallest hint of a blush form on the apple of his cheeks.

-

The day before you were set to finish the third stage, your companions and you stopped into a small town to rest in a real bed for the first time in a week.

You were exhausted by the day that had been far too busy for your liking. A little while after lunch you had encountered a bleeding and unconscious Diego Brando on the side of the road, and you immediately regretted suggesting you should help him since as soon as the words left your mouth, Johnny started shouting about how untrustworthy the English jockey was. He kept going on and on about it the whole afternoon, and his constant berating of the man tired you out even more than the racing did.

You, of course, couldn’t count on Gyro to ask him to zip it since he kept egging him on.

You wondered why he always seemed so satisfied to see his friends get riled up, recalling that evening when offending you bought him out of his bad mood along the numerous time his teasing bought a smile to his face.

Your blonde friend hadn’t calmed down, and he was especially panicked when he realized the British jockey was right behind your trio when you entered the town.

You were grateful to be traveling with friends, and they truly made the journey easier on you. But tonight, you were looking forward to being all by yourself for the first time in weeks.

Your daydreams of peace and quiet were soon interrupted however, as they often were recently. As soon as your little group entered the village, a hoard of people came to greet you with stars in their eyes to ask about the race and congratulate you.

“Seems like everybody knows about this race, even up here in the mountains.” You didn’t need to look at him to hear the cocky grin in Gyro’s voice.

“We can’t lose track of why we’re here. Where did Diego go?” Johnny replied, ignoring the ash-blonde man and the people surrounding him to look around anxiously.

You, on the other hand, were polite enough to smile to the people that had come to greet you. You really didn’t understand why Johnny had such a problem with Dio in the first place. Sure, he finished first last stage but didn’t Johnny say he didn’t care about the race anyways? You made a mental note to ask him about it later as a group of younger women called out to you.

“You were amazing last stage! We can’t believe a woman is steadily making it to the top contestants!” A blonde girl said to you.

“Yeah! Honestly, it’s making me want to ride more as well!” her friend turned to your horse and pet his head.

“Oh… Well, you should!” A sudden sense of pride started filling you at the sight of the little group. Apparently, you could be a source of inspiration. You smiled at them. “What’s your name?” You asked the brown-haired girl who was still touching your horse.

“I’m Rose… Well Primrose, but everyone calls me Rose.” She blushed slightly as you directly addressed her.

“I look forward to seeing your progress, Rose!” You smiled, making her friends squeal in excitement around her.

Green eyes were observing you from further away, scoffing at the wide grin plastered across your face. When he met you, you tried acting as if you didn’t need anyone or anything. You had built up this wall that was hard to look beyond, your detached persona making it harder for him to understand you even when you helped their group back at the devil’s palm. Sure, you were helping, but it was almost like you didn’t want to get too close. Oddly, you only started really revealing yourself after you gave up on first place.

And now, it seemed obvious even you needed others. He felt it when you laughed a bit too much at his dumb jokes just the same as when you made efforts to engage in a conversation with Johnny when you felt he was closed off after a bad day.

He felt it now too, watching you swell with delight at the attention your new fangirls were providing you.

He liked understanding you better, you felt like a complicated surgery he had to study before he could try performing it. And studying he did, observing you quietly when you couldn’t notice. And err- sometimes when you could notice too. He couldn’t help himself much, really.

After bidding goodbye to the crowd, you all made your way to the local inn.

“Gyro! Where did Dio go?” Here he goes again, you thought as Johnny’s voice rose up. “He’s gone!”

“Johnny you’ve gotta calm down, he’s not after us.” You tried to tell him.

“You don’t know that! I am not sleeping in the same place as him, he’s the lowest a human can become. He could poison our horses or… or mess with our harnesses! That’s like a second nature to him.”

“I know, I know… we’ll keep watch of the horses like we do when we camp out.” Gyro settled while climbing down from Valkyrie. His words seemed to appease your blonde friend, his tense shoulders dropping slightly. “There’s a furnace in the room next door. I say it’s time for dinner! I’ll go fetch the wood.”

You were about to say you would join him when Johnny called out to you.

“Stay here, your stand is useless in combat and we don’t know where he is.” His face was crunched with worry, and as much as you wanted to talk to your green-eyed companion and tell Johnny you could defend yourself just fine, you would feel bad if your actions caused his anxiety to worsen.

“…You’re right.” You said as you exchanged a glance with Gyro who looked between you two before he walked out the door. You didn’t see the way his face fell in a disappointed pout as he closed it behind him.

Soon you were alone with the American in the little room and you started boiling some water on the stove while he climbed onto the counter. You never felt like he needed your or anyone’s help, his upper body strength always carrying him where he needed which never failed to impress you.

“Do you want some?” you asked pointing to the coffee you were preparing.

“Yeah… Thanks.”

The cups were hot in your hands as you joined him on the counter, sitting next to him before handing him the beverage. You sat in comfortable silence for a little while before the question burning your lips finally escaped you.

“So…. What’s the deal with you and Dio, then?”

As you had expected, his entire body tensed up. “He’s a piece of shit, that’s the deal.”

“I gathered that, but if you know that, there must be some sort of history between you two… Spill?”

You could tell he wasn’t happy with your prodding, his fingers turning white with how hard he was clasping the coffee cup. For a moment, you worried he would break it.

“Why d’you wanna know anyways…” He mumbled in frustration.

“Because every time he’s near us or he’s mentioned you get irrationally irritated.” You stared at him. “You know you can talk to me.”

He held your gaze, his eyes were full of anger but you could tell that it wasn’t directed at you, so you persisted. “I just want to understand. I don’t honestly think he’s that big of a threat…” You could swear flames rose in his blue pupils at your words. “So maybe you could explain it to me.”

That seemed to be enough to convince him. He didn’t want you to fall victim to his enemy’s antics, so maybe telling you a little could help.

“He… used to work for my dad, when I was younger.” He sounded almost defeated when he spoke, but you could still hear the lingering hate in it. “And I raced against him a lot when I was still capable. I know how he works, how he thinks…” You kept quiet, afraid that speaking up would stop him in his momentum. “You know he even married and murdered an elderly woman for her wealth? Well, he was never convicted, of course, but still… That’s all he ever thinks about, winning. Getting more.” He scoffed.

“Don’t you also aim to win every time?” You asked without thinking.

“What?” He was caught off guard by your question. “I- Well, I mean… to some extent, yes. But I would never stoop as low as he does to get what I want!” For a second you remembered the fire in his eyes and doubted his words, but kept your thoughts to yourself. You knew Johnny, and you knew his motivations were honorable at the very least. You couldn’t say the same about Diego.

“If you say so… But I still think you’re holding out on me.” You said as you hopped off the counter, your braids bouncing with the movement. “You sure there’s nothing else?”

He hesitated for a second. “No, nothing else.”

You didn’t insist anymore and Gyro soon came back with arms full of woods.

-

If you weren’t fully convinced of the terrible nature of Diego Brando after your talk with Johnny, you didn’t need any more compelling when, in the middle of the night, Gyro started shaking you awake. “C’mon Bellissima, that’s enough beauty sleep for you.” The urgency in his voice caught you off guard and you didn’t have time to rub your eyes to wipe the sleep off of them before he caught your wrist and made you run out of the inn with him.

“What’s going on?” You asked, confused and a bit upset at the cold night air hitting your skin still warm from the covers you had slept under a few minutes prior, and the horrid smell coming for a bear corpse a few meters away from you.

“We’re being attacked.” He said matter-of-factly before hiding with you near the wooden back door of the inn.

“What? Where’s Johnny?” You whispered worriedly, your mind going to scenarios of his sleeping form being attacked without his horse or his wheelchair, reducing his mobility and his chance of survival.

“I’m here.” His voice replied, you followed the sound of it to find him hidden a few meters away from you.

You breathed a sigh of relief before the men briefed you, explaining that Dio had suddenly… turned into a dinosaur.

“A what?” You asked, confused.

“You dunno? They’re these huge creatures, bigger than elephants! A scholar named them like that a few years back.” Gyro explained.

“Well, this one’s smaller than an elephant…” Johnny observed.

“That’s reassuring.” You ironized in response.

“Shut it!” The Italian shouted at both of you, effectively making you silent. “Anyways, they existed long before mankind. Fossils were discovered in the Colorado cliff in the Rocky Mountains during the stage, maybe this has something to do with this.”   

The door you were standing close to suddenly started being pounded by something you could only guess was twice as large as a man from how much the wood started shaking. Gyro and Johnny went to try and hold it together while you looked around to see if you could find anything resembling a weapon, your pocket knife still left in your room with the rest of your baggage.

Your eyes fell on the oddly shaped mountains in front of you, suddenly making you lose focus as they reminded you of something you couldn’t quite pin point. You looked back at your companions holding the door together, Johnny’s arm lying flat against it and tensing up under the strain his muscles were put under. You felt as if lightning had just struck down on you when you looked at the Latin engraved in his skin.

“The… The cliff! We have to go down the cliff!” You screamed at them.

“No! We have to kill him, if he’s after the corpse parts we can’t let him get to them!” Johnny shouted back. “Just don’t move! He can’t see motionless things!”

You didn’t have the time to question him on how he had that information when the door broke open and your companion fell beside you. You almost screamed as a blue creature with bright yellow marking and a gigantic tail jumped out from the inn, the only thing stopping you was Gyro’s hand clasping itself quickly over your mouth.

All of you stayed still for what felt like an eternity as you tried to breathe through your nose as quietly as your panicked state and Gyro’s large palm allowed you. The creature took a step towards you and you closed your eye in despair, feeling fear turn your stomach upside down as you tried to focus on the comforting warmth of the flesh against your lips to not think of the gargantuan monster in front of you.

You sighed heavily when you heard footsteps going in the direction opposed from your group and clasped the hand covering your mouth in yours to lower it. His hand felt good against yours so you didn’t let go of it, and you could bet he felt the same since he didn’t either. You wondered if he could feel your panicked pulse in his hold.

“He couldn’t see the coffee cups when he entered the inn earlier, that’s how I knew.” Johnny spoke. “He thinks we down the cliff.”

“Oh… yes!” his companion cheered in turn, his fingers clasping yours a little tighter unconsciously.

You, on the other hand, were still in shock and your heart kept pounding furiously in your chest. Your senses were heightened, the adrenaline flowing through your veins keeping you focused on your safety. “Johnny.” You called out to him. “The letters on your arm, they’re the same shape as the mountain over there.” You used your free hand to point in the direction you had noticed earlier.

“I think that the corpse part is on that hill.”

✧˖*°࿐

Drip. Drip. Drip.

         Small droplets of blood spill on the wooden desk you’re sitting at. You wince at the papercut on your finger, deep enough for it to sting but not enough for you to bother grabbing a tissue instead of shoving the wounded digit in your mouth to suckle at it.

         Your eyes focus back on the news paper clip that you hurt yourself on. Joekid strikes again, the genius jockey successfully finishes first in latest race!

         The date on the corner of the wrinkling paper tells you that this one is from a year and a half ago, the last time you had heard from your Johnny. After he had set sail for America, he would periodically send you letters accompanied with excerpts from newspaper telling tales of how great a racer he was becoming. The letters were usually short, simply asking how you were and if your parents were doing well. Sometimes, he would ask if you were married yet. You responded at every single one and strongly denied ever being engaged, praising him for his success and trying to question him on how his own life was faring in the new world, but he never really replied anything meaningful.

         You were virtually blind to what was happening to him ever since he had left England, and you with it.

         Every time you thought back on the time you had spent together, your heart felt heavy in your chest, like a burden you would’ve liked to rip out from within you. You didn’t have much use for the organ without Johnny, anyway. It’s not like you didn’t try not thinking about him, like you didn’t try forgetting him. But no matter how much you willed your thoughts to stay quiet during the day, your nights were filled with images of blue lipstick and initials carved into a wooden trunk, of arms holding you tight and laughter escaping you uncontrollably.

         And this was still the case after the man who owned your heart stopped giving you any signs of life over a year ago. All that was left now were the few letters and paperclips you could save in an album in your study and the memories that still burned as bright as the sun in your mind.

         The wound on your finger felt like it was burning your skin.

-

         His absence haunted you like a ghost, relentless in its pursuit. It never left you, affecting you on the daily. But your life itself? It was the same way he had left it. Your parents still dotting, your life comfortable, your clothes beautiful. Your mundane life was as picture perfect as it had always been, even more so now that you didn’t engage in scandalous activities with a boy who was a stranger to the nobility, much to your father’s happiness.

         The balls that were thrown in high society were still the same too, you thought as you glanced around at the beautiful estate your neighbors were hosting in. You just didn’t have a handsome blonde to giggle in the corner with anymore. You were in an especially bad mood tonight it would seem, your brain refusing to focus on anything besides the man that was missing from your side. Maybe that was why you were sitting down by yourself, away from the rest of the party.

         “…shame. Haven’t you heard?” a voice was whispering hurriedly a few meters away from you, clearly not noticing your presence, hidden away from their sight by a pillar. You rolled your eyes at the idle gossip, green with envy as you reminisced on how you used to poke fun at everyone at these events with your own lover.

         “No… what happened?”

         “The family fared well after they went back, but the younger son -you know, the one still alive- he was shot.” You were about to stand up to go find someone to join the next dance with and hopefully shut your brain off for a few minutes, but their next words caught you off guard.

         “Oh my! And I heard he had such a great career in horse racing…”

         Your blood ran cold, your entire body freezing in its tracks.

What did she just say?

         Your heart, usually so burdensome, dropped to your stomach so fast a wave of nausea overtook you.

         “Yes indeed, as I was saying, what a shame…”

         The family went back. Surviving younger son.

         Johnny.

         Career in horse races.

         Johnny.

         Shot.

         Johnny.

Your Johnny… was dead?

-

         America was a great distraction for the blonde Joestar when he first arrived. There, he could finally be the first in every race, far away from the shadow Diego cast on him at every turn. There, he was in a country where his brother hadn’t died and he was simply an only son. There, he was far away enough so that he couldn’t hurt you and risk taking your beautiful life away, like he had with his brother.

         His shame never truly left him however, sticking to him more discreetly overtime. He tried pushing it down as much as one could, after all. Johnny never wanted to face his feelings about his life back in England, the few times when his late nights thoughts involuntarily drifted there always left him a crying mess and in cold sweats.

         No, that was far too painful. Instead of feeding his guilt, he nurtured his pride and his ego. Sure, his dad regretted that he wasn’t the son that had died back on that day, but that couldn’t hurt if he won the next race, right? Sure, he missed you, your words, your touch, but it wouldn’t be as bad if he let other people touch him… right?

         If he was the genius jockey everyone adored and revered, nothing could really hurt.

         And it didn’t, for a while. For a while he had respite. He rarely thought about anything uncomfortable, focusing on living the best life he could have. He wanted you to know that too, he wanted you to know how great he was doing. Somewhere inside, he hoped you were proud of him.

When his thoughts did get too big for him to ignore, he would ask if you had been married off by your parents yet. He regretted it every time he sent the letters, waiting anxiously for your answer that would always relieve him more than he liked to admit to himself.

         It was foolish of him of course, to think he could ever escape the burden of the past, of his sins. He could never lead a normal life free of any bad thoughts and pain, not after what he’d done. So, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he got shot in front of a cinema he was trying to cut the line for to impress the girl under his arm.

         No, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he woke up alone and cold in a dark hospital and he couldn’t move his legs anymore.

         But it made sense really, that as soon as he stopped being the genius jockey everyone adored and revered, everything would start hurting again.

         And god damn it, it did. Everything comes rushing back to him all at once, and he can’t do anything but stare at the ceiling from the bed he can’t leave anymore. He’s not used to having half of his body as dead weight, he needs help to move every single time. He doesn’t even have a wheelchair yet.

         So, he thinks. He looks at those ceilings tiles hard and long, and thinks. About how lonely he is, about everything he did wrong in his life. And he cries, and he breaks into cold sweats. The only thing that keeps him together at night are the memories of your crystalline laugh that danced around him when he took you riding with him as a child. The giggles escaping your lips when his lips tickled your collarbone. The smile you gave him when he caught you in his arm every time you sneaked out of your mansion.

         Johnny never sent you letters again.

         He’s ashamed of what’s become of him, he knows he’s nothing more than the shallow shell of the man he used to be. That he didn’t deserve you before, and that he certainly wasn’t even worthy of looking your way now that his useless legs had failed him.

         You could never love him, not the way he still loved you.

-

         The boat ride was long, and tedious. The sea air felt amazing on your skin but your enjoyment of the journey was short lived as you soon discovered you were prone to get sea sick. Yes, it was a long twelve weeks that you had endured. But your goal was worth it.

         You would never forget the way you felt when the Coast line of America came into view for the first time, hope and anxiety filling you all at once. Excited to see Johnny after so long, but oh so afraid of how he would react.

         A few weeks before you left, at that fateful ball, you had thought that he had died. You had hurriedly interrogated the women gossiping about him near you, dreading what they would tell you when you asked them who they were talking about. You could already feel the desperation overcoming you as the image of his cold body lying on the ground made its way into your mind. You had never felt as happy as you had been when they told you that he had simply lost mobility in his legs and that his career was over, but not his life.

         Your Johnny was alive, and there was nothing that could ever take away the happiness that thrilled you at the thought.

Everything was so easy for you to obtain in your little mundane world. You had found out his address with no difficulty, from family friends who still kept in touch with his father and who could never refuse you a favor. Even tickets to go to a new continent on the excuse that you wanted to attend the transcontinental race thrown by some Steven Steel were given to you willingly with a big allowance. Sure, your father disapproved of sending you off by yourself at first, but you reminded him of your love for horses and with just a few bats of your eyelashes, your loving father melted yet again.

Nothing had seemingly changed much from when you were a child, yet everything had.

You didn’t know what to expect when you came at the little house the disgraced jockey lived in, your heart beating furiously in your chest as you made your way to knock on the wooden the door. You heard fumbling inside the cottage before the door swinged open in front of you.

The first thing you noticed were his eyes.

His piercing blue eyes were looking at you like they had so many times before, but this time you could tell that the memory in your mind paled in comparison to the reality of how beautiful they truly were in front of you. The only difference was that those eyes were now looking up at you, you noted, as Johnny was sat in a pink wheelchair.

Yes, his gaze was fixated on you too, widening in recognition and shock. Johnny would have probably expected the pope to show up on his doorstep before ever thinking you could be here. His mouth fell open in a silent gasp, words not finding their ways out of his throat. So, you spoke up first.

“Hello Jonathan.” You smiled at him softly and his heart exploded in his chest, blush forming on his cheeks, probably for the first time since you had shared your first kiss with him.

“H-hello…” his voice cracked slightly, embarrassing him further than he already was. At the risk of stuttering again, he kept quiet for a few moments, drinking your presence in. You seemed to do the same before glancing behind him.

“May I come in?” Your voice was as beautiful and appeasing as he remembered, and Johnny thought he would die if you didn’t grace his ears with it again soon.

“Yes, yes of course!”

For a moment, he had forgotten who he was. Seeing you on his doorstep, seeing you in the flesh for the first time in years, in a new country, a new continent made him feel so emotional that he forgot everything that had happened to him this past year and a half. He fumbled over himself, first to try and open the door wider to accommodate you and then to try and get out of the way. This quickly reminded him of what had slipped his mind for half a second as he awkwardly tried to roll away from the doorstep, making a fool out of himself at every failed attempt of using his wheelchair properly.

Johnny felt ashamed all over again at the pathetic sight he was offering you. He used to be the boy who could catch you in his arms with ease when you jumped down to him, trusting every time that you would arrive safely in his embrace. And now he was reduced to the man who couldn’t get his lame legs out of the way fast enough for you to be able to walk inside.

He couldn’t push his shame down anymore, there were no distractions left for him in all of America when the object of his most ardent desire had followed him here all the way from England. All the way from his past. No running anymore.

His thoughts and focused movements were interrupted by the contact of your palm against his shoulder, anchoring him back into the present. You didn’t speak, simply leaned over slightly and offered him a warm and reassuring smile. It’s okay. He tried his best to steady his breath as you stood back properly, finally managing to move his chair out of the way.

You stepped into the house and closed the door behind you. He told you where to hang your coat, which you promptly obeyed before you followed him into the kitchen where he offered you tea.

“‘S not as good as the one back in England, don’t say I didn’t warn ya” he spoke as he handed you your cup, pushing his wheelchair to face you at the table you were sitting at.

“I’m sure it can’t be that bad, since you made it” you smiled before bringing the cup to your lips, blowing on it before taking a sip. “As I thought.”

Neither of you spoke for a moment, simply looking at each other, like you couldn’t believe you were together again. Johnny had so many questions, but they seemed to all escape him as he admired you. He could’ve sworn you looked the same as the last time he saw you sleeping under that tree, but something told him you had managed to grow even more beautiful since then.

You on the other hand, hadn’t forgotten why you came here.

“Johnny, why did you stop writing me?” Your eyes never left his, you saw the hesitation and embarrassment flickering through them.

“I… didn’t have anything to write about anymore.” He wanted to look away from your questioning eyes so badly, but he feared if he did you would disappear. As if he had just imaged you, sitting with him in his small home.

“I always wanted to hear about you. I asked you so many times to talk to me about what was going on in your life, but you never replied… why?” Your hands gripped your warm cup tighter and he suddenly tensed up.

“Why would I? Would it have been any use?” His tone was sharp, irony dripping from his voice as his gaze turned a bit colder. You refused to let his usual stubbornness deter you however, you had traveled far too much to let him get away with this.

“To me? Yes. Yes, it would have!” You insisted, searching an answer on his face. “I was always so happy to see a letter arrive from you, even if it was only to talk about your races, even if what I wanted was for you to talk to me. But then… then you stopped altogether, and I had nothing.” Your shoulders slumped. “It broke my heart all over again.” You expressed your feelings in earnest, they had been bottled up for far too long, and it seemed to be so easy to fall back into the habit of wearing your heart on your sleeve around him. Around your Johnny, still sarcastic and easy to fluster, although the light in his eyes had dimmed.

He stayed silent for a second, pausing before he answered you in a quiet voice. “I didn’t think you would care that much.”

“About your letters? Of course I did!” He started feeling guilty at how offended you sounded. But that’s not what he meant. And what he said next stunned you.

“No… about me.”

The look you gave him was so full of weight in could have crushed a thousand diamonds easily. You? You not caring about him?  He was speaking complete nonsense, and he knew that, yes of course he knew that. He was just trying to get out of this.

“What are you… you’re the one who left!” You raised your voice slightly.

“I had to!” he defended himself this time. “My life in England was forfeit the moment my brother lost his, and you know that!”

“Then you should’ve taken me with you!” This time you were shouting, your anger apparent as you slammed your hand on the table like the capricious child that you had always been. “You should’ve taken me with you like you always said, or you should have at least had the decency of writing about more than your stupid trophies!”

Johnny couldn’t understand you at all. You… wanted to come? Why were you so angry? Why were your eyes getting teary?

“But… You would’ve never been happy here.” He said, stunned.

“If… If I was with you, I’d be happy anywhere.” And there it was, the words that would have probably saved you years of heartache if you had gathered the courage to say them on that fateful night under that tree that had a J and the first letter of your name carved in its wood. Or maybe not, maybe Johnny still wouldn’t have taken you seriously if you hadn’t traveled all the way here just to see him. Maybe he would have never believed you would actually leave your perfect life for him, until you had done it.

But it probably didn’t matter anyways, you thought. He’d known that all along…

“…You mean that?” his voice cracked.

…right?

Johnny’s tears slipped first, his blonde eyelashes sticking together as he blinked up at you. You followed soon after however, the weight of what you’d realized crushing you both. It was impossible to hold back now.

You wanted to stay with him?

He didn’t know that?

 “Of course I mean it, I’ve always meant it. Johnny, I… I still do.” You admitted painfully, your cheeks getting damp and glistening in the light filtering through the window of the small kitchen.

He spoked your name in a sob, looking down at his hands resting on his lame thighs. How could you ever want him? He never deserved you, not since he had killed his brother, and even less so now that his legs were completely useless. “How? Now that I’m so worthless?” his cried out, tears now turning his vision blurry with the sheer abundance of them.

He didn’t see you, but he heard you getting up and stepping around the table to go find him. He wanted to hide away in the ground, where you could never see him in this state again.

His tears never stopped, not even as you climbed in his wheelchair and sat in his laps, just like you used to. Just like when everything was still as easy as it could be between you two. When his legs worked, when his brother was alive, when you had your princess life and your Johnny.

Your heart was sinking as you hugged him, bringing his head close to your neck. His arms wrapped themselves around your middle, bringing you closer to him and muffling his sobs against your skin. Worthless? That’s what he thought?

         Your own tears were still coming when you spoke again. “I thought you were dead. They told me you were shot, I thought you had died.” You gripped him tighter, speaking against his hair. You inhaled his smell, the smell of familiarity and love. “I don’t care that you can’t walk again.” He sobbed harder. “I never did. I’m not sad because you’re in a chair… I’m sad because you look like you’ve given up.” You tried to steady your tone. “And my Johnny would never give up.”

         Your Johnny.

         Could he ever be your Johnny again?

Probably not.

But he wanted to.

-

         Life with him wasn’t easy, especially not compared to the idea of the American life you’d made up in your mind years ago. Johnny would often clam up on you, going back to his thoughts of being undeserving of your presence and shutting you off, spiraling on his own. It hurt you every time, you felt completely lost as to what to do to make him look at you again, just like you did after his brother died.

         But this time he couldn’t escape you, he had to see you every day, and you weren’t going anywhere. This time, he didn’t have a new continent to fly off to.

         You found that what helped him most of the time was taking him on horse rides, reminding him of when you were little. Although now you were the one holding the reigns just like he had taught you, and he was the one asking you to go faster every time. His face and eyes would light up whenever the wind would blow on his face when you’d reached his desired speed, and in those moments, he was as happy as he used to be.

         It shouldn’t have been a surprise then, that he came back in your newly shared home a few months after your arrival, blabbering on and on about joining the race you’d used as an excuse to leave England, not being entirely sure, then, that you’d be leaving for good. You thought he had lost his mind, but he kept telling you about a way he could walk again, something about… spinning?

         Truthfully, you couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying, but seeing him this elated always made you agree to whatever he wanted. He didn’t even need to bat his eyelashes, just ask.

         “You’ve gotta trust me!” He spoke eagerly, truly wanting to convince you that this was a good idea. This was his chance, and he knew it, he couldn’t let it pass. This way, if his legs worked again, he’d be truly worthy of you. He’d be able to step back into the real world and be the man you deserved him to be, not just the shadow he’d left behind. You didn’t care if Johnny walked again or not, all you wanted was to be by his side and you told him this time and time again. But he cared. He needed this.

         The look in his eyes was so full of hunger and determination that it took you aback. It reminded you of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint until you realized it was the same look he had when he looked at you back in England.

         You had no choice but to agree, although you had no idea how he would ride again by himself, mentally preparing yourself to have to comfort him after he’d fail.

         Your pessimistic attitude was proven wrong on the 25th of September 1890 as you watched your Johnny ride off with a thousand other race participants in the sun of the early morning.

         The night before, you were lying in bed and he was caressing your face as he told you that he’d finally fulfill his promise and would make an honest woman out of you when he came back. His lips were as soft as always when he kissed you and asked you to give him more before he left. You absentmindedly wondered what your father will think of your union as you climbed on top of him, just like you had so many times before.

You watch his figure shrink into the horizon of San Diego’s beach. You’ll wait, you’ve waited, so you’ll wait again.

 And this time you trust he will be back.

✧˖*°࿐