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gyro and johnny are a cute couple, almost sickeningly so.
they're affectionate, hands all over each other, all over themselves, all over the place.
it drives me up a wall.
johnny was nothing like the johnny i knew when he first showed up with gyro. timid, wheeling his way around- it seemed the weight of the world fell harder on him in that chair then it ever did when he stood on two feet. upright, when i knew him, he was untouchable.
untouchable. gorgeous. powerful. striking. the johnny joestar. he had magazines plastered with his picture, with the two of us. we were the same height, both blondes, both with blue-green eyes, brothers from another mother turned rivals.
on the road he was fierce, tires squealing, blowing past newbies like it was his job- because it was. we were rich. we were huge. wild. in the bed he was even fiercer, clawing at my flesh with fingernails like talons, panting like a wild animal- he almost was. we were rich. we were huge. wild.
i loved him for his money, his fame, his body, and he felt the same about me. we were enamored with the sport, with each other, with the cameras flashing from every direction. the competition was real- just because we were companions in the bedroom didn't mean we weren't rivals on the track. when i won, he was envious out of sight of the cameras, kissing me harshly and probing my mouth with an enthusiastic tongue as if to suck the victory straight out of me through my throat. when he won, he was truly victorious, open and proud, touching himself almost as much as he was touching me. "worship me," he would say- no, breathe into my neck with his hands on mine and my hands all over him. i obeyed, not by choice, but by the fact that i was caught up in the moment as if it was a hurricane. tornado. destructive. powerful. wild.
the media never knew anything, our parents never knew anything- maybe because of the fact mine had died and his father had disowned him after the death of his brother. nicholas's death had left johnny hollow, but he filled himself up well, with everything from booze to drugs to me. he filled himself up with me after dark, alone- but we never could do anything in public but fight, and it wore on us like the ocean wore on the cliffs that loomed over them.
"hey, dio," he began with a nickname in a hushed whisper, the first time we had spoken in a good twenty-four hours, hair whipped by the wind and breath coming in short puffs, worn out by the adrenaline of the race.
"yeah?"
"we oughta tell 'em. the press. paparazzi. papers. everyone. just let it all out."
"are you fucking nuts? we'd be ruined. bullied out. we'd be gone in a week and a half. no magazine'd ever have either of our faces on it again."
"it'd be worth it. that's gonna happen eventually, and diego, i'm tired. real fuckin' tired. this hiding shit's suckin' the life outta me."
"life ain't peaches and cream, johnny, you're gonna have to suck it up!"
"diego--damn it, don't you get it? all we ever do is fuck and it's so secret, a different place every night, it feels like we're running from something. like we're cowards."
i grabbed him by the wrists, then, pressing my lips to his in a valiant effort to shut him up. he melted under me like chocolate in the sun, and i looked him in the eyes as his harshness faded.
"for god's sake, jojo, i love you. i love the hell out of you- your attitude, your wit, your body, fuck it, i love the way you annoy the hell out of me sometimes. but you gotta start looking at things realistically. just because we can't touch each other in public don't mean we’re losing our touch."
johnny shook his head. "alright- whatever. yeah." he sighed, and it came from every end of his body, a tiredness that reached into his soul. "i love you too--fuck, i love you a ton. i'm just tired."
we were in some taxi, travelling down some unfamiliar road, in a city we didn't know the name of. we spoke with hushed voices until we got to the hotel- some place we hadn’t picked ourselves, populated with other racers all following the races as they go across the states. johnny sat down on the hotel room bed and stretched his legs, the star-spangled pattern of his jeans shifting as he did. he tapped his foot on the floor, constructing a kind of erratic pattern with his foot. it was almost recognizable, but foreign in the same way.
"i don't feel like it tonight." there was no need to be asking what "it" meant. i knew what he was saying the moment he said it, knew that we had to take a day just to relax. it was the first night in a while we hadn't been a hurricane- rather, we were less than a tropical storm, just a breeze ruffling the leaves on trees and making birds puff up their feathers in contempt for nature.
the next night, we fucked like there was no tomorrow. his timidity from the night before was gone, replaced with a hunger spreading from him into me and infecting the two of us alike. we ripped, clawed at each other, moaned and screamed.
racing season ended in november, as the leaves were falling from the trees and the air was brisk and cold. we were milder, subdued by the weather and the lack of cameras flashing on us whenever we stepped into the sun. we were humans for the cold months, going on dates, to movies, to restaurants.
one night johnny came bursting into a tiny apartment we were living in for the off-season. he was carrying some kind of bundle in his hands, wrapped up in fabric. it wasn’t moving- his face had such a look of urgency that i sprung up out of my seat as soon as we made eye contact.
“i found him on the side of the road- he’s still breathing-” johnny was panicked, out of breath. “we need to get him to the hospital.” in the blankets in johnny’s arms was a puppy, no bigger than the length of my forearm. whether the thing was muddy from dirt or from his natural fur color i couldn’t tell, but his fur was matted and torn. i ran to my car, started the engine as if i was getting ready for a race. i drove that way, too, speeding down the highway faster than i knew was legal. the animal hospital was only a few miles up the road and we bolted out of the car, arriving in the building with pale faces and no breath in our lungs.
johnny named the mutt silver bullet, and i rolled my eyes. “isn’t that the name of my car?”
“it’s not it’s actual name. it’s a nickname. plus, it’s a good nickname.”
“the dog’s not even silver! nowhere near- he’s just mud-colored!”
“oh, come on. it doesn’t matter. we can call him bullet for short. he’s small, and he’s probably quick. like a bullet.”
“fine.”
johnny smiled, and our lips met. we weren’t racing stars, that time. we were ourselves, and it felt good.
a month or so later, christmas time came, snuck up on us like a cat sneaks up on mice. johnny convinced me at the last minute the day before christmas eve to buy a tree, said we should get more into the spirit of the holiday. the tree was dressed up with lights and things by the time johnny and i were done with it, and i wouldn’t’ve admitted it at the time, but it made my heart glow.
“it looks real nice, doesn’t it?” johnny stepped back, having hung the final bit of tinsel on the small tree.
“yeah. a regular masterpiece.” johnny shook his head, grinned. “i’m glad we got a short one. neither of us would be tall enough to put the star on the top otherwise.”
i shrugged. “eh, we’d’ve found a way. one of us would’ve stood on a chair or something.”
bullet barked as if to agree with me. he gave the tree a good sniff, barked again, and started licking his privates in the middle of the room. we took that to be a sign of approval, and spent the rest of the night watching cheesy old christmas movies and drinking eggnog ‘til we were sick of it. we felt like completely different people than the racecar drivers- we weren’t a tornado, not a hurricane, not a tropical storm. we were like a balmy breeze, and we were happy.
the last thing johnny mentioned to me before we fell asleep came as a bit of a shocker. “maybe we should just give up racing. stay like this forever. get a nice little place outside of some city, maybe get a cat or another dog, maybe adopt some kid or two. it would be sorta nice.”
i laughed so hard that night i thought my ribs would burst. it seemed ridiculous, the idea of giving up racing. i had never been a long-term thinker- to me, the furthest in the future i could see was the next racing season, with myself in the lead and johnny following close behind. unbeatable again, unstoppable again. “ask me again in a decade.” i said, and johnny rolled his eyes, a half-smile on his face, before turning around and falling into sleep.
christmas eve came and went in a bit of a rush, christmas day similarly so. the presents we got each other were simple things, things we forgot about in a week or two, and we spent the rest of that night in each other’s arms until the sun rose into the bedroom.
it felt to me like i blinked, and racing season had arrived again. it was bittersweet- i had missed racing with every inch of my body, but the fact that johnny’s and my public displays of affection had to be put on hold threw a wrench into the joy of the season’s beginning. even so, the first race went just as all the ones before it had- me in first, johnny in second. it was a good feeling.
the rest of the season followed the same way all the rest did. sure, there was the odd race where one of us tripped up, came in a lower place. occasionally there was some newbie out of the blue that gave us a run for our money. but it was typical, and we had a good time. drunk, messed around, fucked.
the paparazzi that year were vicious, and the fans as well- mobbing us, mobbing the rest of the drivers, like flies buzzing in your ears that won’t go away no matter how much you swat. none of them, though, were as bad as the ones who weren’t fans, the so-called “haters” that would scream and whine and moan about us day and night. it drove me up a wall, johnny even more so.
it was late one night when johnny said he wanted to head to the movies. i wasn’t feeling well, stomach churning with anticipation for the day ahead. it was a big race, one of the biggest of the season, and my nerves were going wild despite my best efforts to keep calm. he kissed me first on the cheek, then on the lips, saying he’d see me when he got back.
“tell me how the movie is,” i grinned, kissing him back eagerly. “you bet.” he nodded, then turned to leave.
i never did find out how the movie was.
the papers didn't even know what happened- he disappeared off the face of the earth, it seemed. i heard something about a gunshot, something a fight, something--i didn't seek out information. didn't try to find out what happened. silver bullet got to pacing back and forth across the room, noticing the absence of a presence. i felt like a ghost of a man, wandering with no purpose. my places in racing began to slip- the paparazzi turned negative. everyone wanted to know what happened to johnny joestar. everyone thought i would know. tabloids hissed and spit that i had done something awful to my long-time rival, that i wanted to get his strong competition out of the picture.
i quit racing two weeks after the last time i saw johnny alive. i got a new job, moved into a place with some guy i barely knew, a gyro zeppeli i found after searching for ads looking for a roommate. i was lonely and bitter, bullet was lonely and sad. i was an awful roommate for the first half a year, lazy and sour. gyro tolerated me- i gave him none of the credit he deserved. he was single until he met johnny, but not unhappy. i envied him somehow, envied the apparent simplicity of his life. we knew nothing about each other save for favorite tv shows and shampoo, and neither of us tried to find out any more than that. years passed, and johnny joestar faded away.
gyro’s johnny entered the picture after i had been living with him for three years, and when the leaves first started to turn outside our apartment window. all gyro ever mentioned was just a johnny, never a last name, and i never gave it a second thought. the name johnny left a strange taste in my mouth, after years, but i never dwelled on it, going about every day as if the other guy didn’t exist. he was gyro’s not-boyfriend, not mine- i didn’t give a care in the world about him. one night, my roommate came home from his park date elated, and silver bullet equally so. i saw him the next morning, woke him up, saw him in his sleep smiling. i woke him up by being a massive dick, and went on with my day.
if i said that a dead man arriving in my apartment wasn't the weirdest thing to happen to me, i would've been lying. i was sure i was dreaming, wondered next if i had died and gone to the afterlife where i had thought johnny was. but he was alive, looking humbled in a wheelchair, and despite my best efforts, i was pissed.
"i'm glad you're not dead." it came after a while, after my head began to straighten everything out. he had hardly changed in three years, and really, i was glad he wasn’t dead after all.
i watched as johnny's face softened as i said that, and he looked as if he de-aged three years. i wasn't in love with him, not after all those years, but it didn’t matter. he was gyro's- i was happy, and he was happy.
johnny joestar went in and out of my apartments for weeks, and him and gyro were all over each other. bullet looked like she was a puppy again in his presence, barking in ecstasy.
“hey, gyro, your little boyfriend comin’ over today?”
gyro grinned wryly. “yeah, in a few minutes. we’ve got something we wanna ask you.”
“we? like, the both of you?”
“yeah. it’s nothing bad, we’re not asking you to move out or anything, so chill it with that look!”
“i don’t have a look!” i was pretty sure i did have some kind of look going on, but hell if i was going to admit it.
the doorbell rang at that second, and we both knew who it was- no one else had rang the apartment’s doorbell in months. winter was here in it’s fullest at that point, and johnny’s fair hair and sweatshirt-covered shoulders were dusted with snow. i answered the door, being quicker and closer than gyro. “hey, johnny. good to see ya.”
he looked as happy as ever to be here- almost happier, but at the time i swore i was imagining things.
“right back at you.” johnny grinned, before wheeling past me and turning to gyro. “gyro- you still have beer left?”
“yeah, probably. want me to grab a few?”
“yeah.” he moved over to the couch, maneuvered himself onto the cushion and pushed his wheelchair away with an outstretched arm. gyro followed after him with two beers in his hand and one under his arm, gesturing at me to sit beside him as he plopped down onto the couch.
johnny started the discussion, albeit somewhat reluctantly. “so, diego...i know it’s kind of been a while. we haven’t really seen each other, other than me coming in and out of this place to see gyro.”
i nodded. “yeah.” the fair-haired man continued. “and, i’ve been talkin’ to gyro. about you a little, actually. we both kind of got the same idea, so, we wanted to ask you…” he hesitated, shooting a somewhat nervous-looking glance in gyro’s direction. i had no idea what they were getting at- it seemed fishy to me, but i waited, watched as johnny tapped his fingers on the side of the couch.
gyro spoke up finally after an agonizing minute of silence. “we were wondering if you’d--well, if you’d date us. both of us. that’s the truth.”
the first thought that ran through my head was that he was joking, pulling my leg. it would’ve been so like him to make a prank like that, but his face and johnny’s were dead serious. i ran a hand through my hair, grinning, completely blown away. “you’re serious, aren’t you?”
johnny answered that time. “yeah, actually.”
i didn’t know where the laughter came from, but it spilled out like an over-full cup from me. the faces of the two men next to me lit up like a christmas tree and they smiled. silver bullet barked, and i knew what choice i had to make.
johnny and gyro are a cute couple, almost sickeningly so. it drives me up a wall.
“yeah--yes. i’ll- god, i can’t believe i’m saying this.” i grin from ear to ear, and while i can’t see my face, i’m sure it looks goofy as all hell. “fuck it--i’ll date you. the two of you.” the two men’s smiles grow until that’s all of their faces i can see. gyro looks almost relieved, johnny even more so, and out of the corners of my eyes i see two pairs of lips- one rising up, one leaning down to touch my cheek from either side.
silver bullet howls.