Chapter Text
When one spends too much time alone, the mind tends to delve into the dark. If Gyro does decide to return to the medical world, it won’t be as a surgeon. He only became one because it was the family trade. An obvious fact back then and it bugged him now. He had a greater passion for there not being a risk of death on his table and it was this apprehension and nigh-crippling restlessness that urged him to seek anything else. Maybe he’ll be a pediatrician, dentist, physiotherapist, podiatrist, gynecologist, optometrist, chiropractor, or a nurse to the above. But that’s only if he returns to Italy. He’s not qualified to be much of anything in this country. He’d practically be starting over. Maybe. He hasn’t looked into it.
And as casual and heedless as he tries to be, he replays his last big memory of home. The disappointment but understanding in his mother’s expression, the bewilderment and worry in the faces of his siblings, and his seething father. Gyro could’ve said he wanted to travel. You know, see the world before cementing himself into the family career. But he couldn’t lie to his father. Not to those cold, green eyes. His father didn’t say anything or move, he just let his son ramble and make a fool of himself. And when he stopped all his bumbling, and while it wasn’t said aloud, there was officially no such thing as a Gyro Zeppeli.
New York.
Gyro rests his arms on the balcony rail and watches the city in motion. Caesar’s place is too lofty. All he can see are the tops of people’s heads and whether or not they’re wearing a suit. It’s a nice set up, otherwise. Decent space for the price, not far from work, and the sofa bed in the living room was bought specifically with Gyro in mind (this is why Caesar is his favourite).
Gyro makes the apartment as homey as he can, but always keeps in mind his position as a visitor. Every so often he reminds himself that this is temporary. His tenure on this sofa-bed is temporary. His job at the pizzeria around the block is temporary. One day, he’ll have his own apartment and a career he can get behind. Maybe get a dog or something. Get married, have four kids, and tell the eldest they can do whatever the fuck they want.
He groans at his own childishness.
“Where is he?!”
Joseph Joestar. Gyro’s heard of him but hadn’t heard him until now. Remarkable. Didn’t know he was British. Joseph’s first through the door. Taller than the already-tall Gyro and Caesar but just as burly and dark hair just as tousled as the latter. Caesar shoulders him along as he carries the bulk of the groceries and takeout bags into the apartment.
“Joseph, my cousin Gyro. Gyro, Joseph who just got bailed out of prison.”
“Lock up,” Joseph corrects. He waves a hand, “Long story. Boring story.”
“You were in ‘lock up’ for three months.” Caesar then nods to Gyro, “Assault.”
“The guy deserved it! You don’t hold up the line because they’re ‘taking too long’ on the long order you asked for fresh. It’s bullshit.” His brows pinch, “And that stupid suit of his…”
Joseph goes on to reiterate all he’d been through from the assault to the arrest to now. How he joined a gang, was kicked out, and ended up forming one instead. His accent is easy to follow until he gets excited. Then it becomes a rapid spiel.
[His grandma is still mad at him so he’ll be staying with us for a bit,] Caesar says.
The gusto instantly leaves Joseph. He points at Gyro, “Speak English. Don’t be a dick.”
Gyro shrugs, “Sounds more like your thing.”
“Jojo!” Caesar calls the second Joseph’s mouth falls open.
Bags on the counter, Caesar begins taking out foam containers. Gyro takes his share to his couch. There’s a pillow and blanket laid all neat, clearly defining it as a claimed spot but Joseph doesn’t seem like the type to notice. With a casual gesture, Mr. Teddy is stuffed under the pillow.
There’s only one bedroom to this apartment so Joseph’s taking up the other couch. A weeklong arrangement but Gyro gives up his bed a day in. It’s painful watching someone so bulky try to get comfortable on such lean furniture. Gyro soon sees what Caesar sees in Joseph. While lazy, loud and a hothead down to fight anyone, he’s interesting. Joseph is bold, makes his judgements and acts on them quickly. Sometimes without letting anyone in on the game.
“Gyro…” Joseph greets. He puts both hands on the slimmer man’s shoulders. “We’re going to Chicago.”
Done. Decided. His original plan was to drive – make it a whole trip – but he’s talked down to a two-hour flight. Quips and jokes, arguments and threats, and Joseph putting Caesar in a headlock. All within the ride to the airport, before boarding, and arrival. A twelve-hour drive would’ve ended badly. Then there was the question he refused to answer. Caesar would ask, Gyro would try getting in on the plan through subtle conversation, but Joseph is tight-lipped.
Gyro brought the same big duffel bag he carried into the country. Phone, toothbrush, makeup, Mr. Teddy, one pair of shoes and whatever space was left was taken up by clothes. He went through an overhaul of sorts before leaving Italy. He handed off a lot to his brothers and threw more out for being worn or outdated. He’s a simple man and travels light. Caesar and Joseph have a suitcase each and bags. Besides tech, they’re carrying several shoes, pants, coats, and shirts plus accessories like belts and suspenders, gloves, pins and hats. Ready for all occasions from casual to formal. Gyro can’t convince himself that this isn’t excessive. All their crap has to fit into one taxi somehow.
“Why Chicago?” Caesar blurts during their wait outside the airport.
“I’m taking you to a show.”
Whether it was the integrity of his words or the sincerity in his voice, Caesar softened instantly. The two stand, eyes locked on each other and Gyro just off to the side wondering who was going to melt and say ‘Babe, I’m sorry’ first.
Caesar steels, “Fine.”
Joseph beams and begins to flex. He’s won.
With all the money Joseph blew, Gyro expected they were staying someplace upper class. Somewhere vintage and ritzy where the cheeriest people there were wealthy retirees and Joseph. Personally, Gyro felt too young for that and Joseph delivered. The Aces Hotel was streamlined, refreshing and light. And he gets his own room!
Gyro leaves his bag at the door, takes a quick look around, and stands by the window. A road trip. That’s what he should’ve done before coming to America. He should’ve roamed the Italian countryside, taken in the sights and people and food. Be a tourist in his own country.
He doesn’t get to muse for long as Caesar wants this brief trip made worthwhile. See? He can have fun. First night in Chicago and they go out for drinks and to seek the deepest, meat-and-cheesiest Chicago-style pizza they could. Next night was the show: Luzia. A Cirque to Soleil story set in a fantasy Mexico. He doubts he truly understands the story but the music sent shivers down his spine and there was this water falling and making shapes thing which was wild. How the hell do they do that?! And this one singer’s dress bloomed!
It all feels like he’s trying to recall a dream. The music is faint in his memory, the acts are all out of order, and there are only snapshots of clarity. And yet, Gyro feels a little lighter. Joseph and Caesar don’t notice his silence. Too busy getting in each other’s faces.
“I’m going to Mexico,” he announces.
Joseph erupts with laughter. Caesar utters a prayer as he rubs his brow.
“Why—? You know what? I already know why. Gyro, you’re stupid.”
“I want to travel. I’m nearly thirty!”
“Twenty-four is not thirty!”
Joseph sucks air through his teeth, “That’s thirty.”
Caesar glares at Joseph briefly and points a hand at his cousin.
“How do you plan on getting around?”
“I’ll buy a car. I could work overtime.”
Joseph rests an elbow on the table and also points at Gyro, “Give me a week and you’ll have your car. Two weeks, tops.”
“Stay out of this!”
“Why?!”
“This is irresponsible!”
“He’s thirty, he needs to see the world!”
“[Idiots.] Both of you are idiots!”
Caesar tends to express worry with hostility. A flaw that makes keeping people around difficult. Then he went ahead and befriended the most provoking guy Gyro’s ever met. Bound to die young stressing himself like that.
Gyro’s been packed. A dress shirt, slacks and loafers have been added to his single duffel bag of luggage. With a bit of research, he learns to pack a smaller bag for the immediate stuff, a cooler, and various items for car maintenance. He’s so excited he finds ways to occupy his days before he’s off (and Caesar’s still pissed to he stays out of his way). As promised, he works the extra hours to eke out a bit of cash. It’s uncanny how this is how he acted when he decided on America. It wasn’t enough to leave his house. Not enough to leave his beloved Napoli. No, he had to leave the country – the continent – and hadn’t been in this new land for long before getting amped for another venture.
No luck getting the car in a week but that only meant he had more time to prepare. He lays under the light of Caesar’s tablet, looking over how long it takes to get from cousin’s New York apartment to Mexico. And New Mexico is right beside the original for no reason. It’s like if New York was beside… York? And now he’s looking that up.
“It’s in England! See? They should’ve put ‘New’ Mexico somewhere else,” he mumbles.
Now he can’t imagine why, but Maps either goes over or under Kentucky. The whole state is skipped but it seems wiser to drive directly through. Which is what Gyro decides on. Fuck it. Couldn’t figure out whether he wanted to go through Ohio-Indiana or The Virginias-Tennessee anyway.
Middle of the second week and there’s a melodious knocking at the door. Caesar kisses his teeth and lets Joseph in. His friend carries two small packages and crosses over to Gyro to present one. Gyro knows exactly what it is! A set of gold teeth. He and Joseph had a bit to drink and this was the result.
But then Gyro’s brows pinch and the excitement slips. “Why the hell did I get ‘GO! GO! ZEPPELI’ engraved in this?!”
“Oh…” Caesar mumbles with the realization. “We were chanting that all night! We were going to get matching tattoos.”
Gyro covers his eyes and, after a moment, allows a laugh. Joseph, bright as smile as ever, showcases the other items. A gold ‘J*’ pendant and a pair of silver wing brooches for Caesar. Great, more accessories.
Gyro collects himself and pops the top row of teeth into place, “Take this as a sign, cousin. I’m going to Mexico.”