Chapter Text
He awoke to the same tears that dried his face and grief stricken heart that never seemed to calm down as he hastily turned off the overbearing alarm clock. He buried his face into the palms of his sweaty hands, sighing in annoyance. He couldn’t remember the count of these recurrences, as there had already been too many to name. Yet, he slowly got used to it, labeling this weird phenomenon a bad habit. It was strange though, a nineteen year old suddenly having dreams of old western tales that dated way back in 1891: fighting bad guys alongside a man he couldn't seem to recognize. Both struggling to kill a president he’s never heard of. Sounded more like some sugar coated fantasy rather than a dream. What was even more weird was that he couldn’t remember the exact plot line afterwards. He just kept waking up to the same gnawing pain that put his whole body into a restless trance. Whatever it was, he prayed it’d stop. The mornings were already hard enough as they were, he didn’t want another fucking obstacle added to his day. But it was a tad bit too late for that.
The blonde grabbed his legs as he sat at the edge of the bed. He set them to touch the cold hardwood floor as he aimlessly grabbed for his crutches. A yawn uncomfortably escaped his lips as the dryness of his throat issued him to writhe in pain. He forgot that these dreams also left him sore and horribly nauseated in the mornings. He never seemed to get a break from the heavens above him. First blessing him with the inconvenience of barely functioning legs, then the tragedy of what he calls a family and now this bravado shit. God damn, he really needed a break. A long refreshing break that consisted of beautiful women and the outbacks of a dry Kentucky landscape. Now that's some good shit right there. Too bad he was cursed with whatever this shit hole of a life was. Sometimes he kind of wished to stay in those dream escapades, it actually seemed like he had a whole reputation there. He had a friend? And whoever those other people were. Yet again, too bad he couldn't fucking remember who they were. He could care less anyways. They weren’t real.
Johnny scrambled to his knees as his shoulders met the cold handlebars of the uncomfortable convenience that happened to remind him of how much his life served as an inconvenience to his needs. Thank god he could at least feel shit though, otherwise he would’ve already knocked the fuck out. Having crutches was one thing but having a wheelchair? Now that would be fucking tragic— couldn’t help but feel a little compassion for the people who had to use them though. They can live that out for him, guess that’s a first pro to his giant list of cons. He’ll add it later when he has the time.
He wobbled on his feet as he lumbered over to the bathroom, starting off every morning with painstakingly over the top hygiene routines that makes him feel at least a little better about himself. If he was going to be crippled, he was going to do it in fashion. No way was he gonna let the world see how much he progressed into a pale lifeless husk throughout the months. Not that he was lifeless or anything, he went on adventures— you know, like to some places he often frequented. Like the grocery store, or the vintage record store that had some pretty good shit for being a small business . Okay, maybe he was a bit lifeless but not too far gone. He’d like to give himself at least some credit for being able to lift himself from the havoc he calls a bed. A comfortable messed up havoc that is. Who gives a shit anyways? Not like anyone’s gon’ visit him in a state like this. His apartment was a war zone, personalized and made to match his criteria, afterall the last time it was properly furnished was when a well sculpted and gorgeous woman came over to satisfy his sex drive. That was almost a year ago. Now everything was tarnished— oh well.
Johnny wallowed in himself as he stared into the mirror, cheeks painted raw and lips puffy along with his eyes as he relieved the burning sensation with cold tap water. He doesn’t know why he cried, in fact, he didn’t know why he cried every time he had those dreams. Maybe it had to do with something or someone? That’s a bit odd. They always ended with him screaming and calling for someone’s name, at least that’s how the recent ones ended. What a mind fuck. He let out a snort as he rubbed some random face cream that seemed to leave him with a good complexion. Smothering it on a face sponge and letting the pores on his skin take in the nice refreshment. After that he put on a random moisturizer and called it a day. His favorite part of this ‘routine’ was the blue lipstick that gave him some characteristic, the color was soft but also sharp, it was a good way to get girls flocking to his vicinity. Asking him where he got it from and then somehow ending up in his bed the next day. Lovely how that shit worked like magic, well- not so much anymore. Didn’t stop him from putting it on though, the smoothness brushing his chapped lips gave him a heavenly feeling of relief.
He looked himself in the mirror up and down, not too bad. Is what he initially thought. His outfit of the day was a blue golf wang shirt and a light blue oversized denim jacket alongside some light blue shorts topped off with his comforting star spangled beanie. Day by day his fits seemed to grow more and more Tyler, the creator-esque. Not that he had a problem though, it’s just he was more of a Fleetwood Mac kind of guy, and the way they dressed was the exact opposite of what he looked like right now. Ah, Tyler has a better sense of fashion anyways. He shrugged his shoulders and gave the mirror a tiny smile before returning to the bedroom to retrieve his phone.
The minute he looked at the time was the exact minute he felt his nuts shrivel into themselves, he couldn’t tell if his eyes were playing tricks or not, how the fuck could he oversleep and not know? An already impending exasperated sigh channeled his inner rage and regret as he looked at the missed calls from his colleague, god if only he hadn’t been more fucked than he already was. Fuck himself for setting that alarm clock to the wrong time. He opened his messages to reveal worried texts from Tim who seemed to text him every ten minutes or so. Looks like he was gonna have to do some explaining along with buying a coffee in apology.
< Hey Johnny where you at? Kind of backed up here, it’s like a whole rodeo in this place.
his heart plummeted with a fine line of guilt and amusement as he read the message. Guilt because he probably wasn’t lying about the rodeo part and amusement because that meant Tim was probably flailing around. Would be funny to see an ex cowboy turn shitty Starbucks barista struggle with the over the top orders. What a nice thought to imagine.
Sorry I overslept, will be there in a bit. Try not to die, I’m really not trying to have an extra workload >
< Wow, very funny. Hope you keep that same attitude when you get here. Haha, yikes.
As he opened the car door to his well earned and self paid— mind you, jeep, he effortlessly hoisted himself onto the driver's seat and leaned down to drag in the painstakingly long crutches so that he could throw them in the seat next to him. He then shut the door and soon got off on his little journey to the place that’s going to have his ass whooped, might as well enjoy the luxury of taking his sweet ass time before he gets swooped off his feet. Honestly, the real luxury here was that he could still drive. Now that’s another pro he could add to his list, wow, two pros in a day, in the same span of an hour! Now that’s new. As he backed out of the garage he quickly connected his phone to Bluetooth, scrolling through his phone to find his prized playlist based on some oldies he very much grew accustomed to liking. Most of it contained Fleetwood Mac but, maybe he could listen to Rainbow today. After all, Catch The Rainbow was a pretty good song, it even made it on his On Repeat playlist. Now that was a statement. He got along on the road and went a little below the speed limit cause’ fuck him over and over if he risked an accident. Yes driving slow was an absolute asshole move to the stick up the ass drivers but he wasn't going to put his safety at risk to accident-prone people. He rolled down the window, and let the wind play with his hair as he enjoyed the last drive of his life. He couldn’t help but feel a tiny pang in his heart, for some reason this scenario reminded him of the old days of being a genius jockey. It wasn’t only that, but it was also something else. Something in his past that felt just as freeing as this. Strange. Sometimes he wished he had a darling to drive this sweet thing with. Have one hand on the wheel, with the other on her nice smooth thighs. That’d be a blessing.
“There you are.” Tim greeted him with a slight twitch to his lips as Johnny got behind the counter.
“Guess you weren’t lyin when you said it was like a rodeo in here.” he eyed the various amounts of girls who crowded the table, laughing and chatting with their friends. Some were pretty and some weren’t, he couldn't pick n choose though, that'd be a bit too self centered there. Which is a terrible look.
“I never lie Johnny, now if you'd please get ready and start manning the counter before I beat your ass.” there was no malice behind his voice as he eyed Johnny up and down, “same old I see.”
“Oh shut up, s’not like you can dress any better Mr.Tim.” and with that, he went Into the staff room to grab his apron and prepare for another day of hell. Surprised he hasn’t died yet, maybe that’ll come later in the day.
The two men looked drained as noon finally transformed into late-noon. Whatever event that was going on today they both hoped it could go fuck itself.
“You remember the Spotify password Johnny?” Tim said to thin air, as Johnny was too busy “crying” in his pool of misery.
“Nah, they didn’t give me the password for any type of shit in this place.”
“Bummer.”
“Why? Were you gon’ play that stupid cowboy music of yours again?”
“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. And for your information it’s not stupid, oh—”
“Oh, lonesome me is a good song, you say that every time. At this point I could practically sing the damn lyrics.” Johnny rolled his eyes as Tim brushed the insult off and took it in as a compliment.
“Damn Johnny, why don’t you cheer up for once?” he turned to look at the blonde as he put shit in a blender that Johnny still didn’t remember the names of.
“N’why do you need to know?” he subconsciously crossed his arms.
“Sometimes I worry bout’ you boy.”
“Strange, shouldn't I be the one worried? You’re almost thirty and you work as a Starbucks barista. Trynna ogle at young lil girls or somethin’?”
“No and no. Don’t try and change the topic now.”
“Ugh whatever. I’m fine literally nothin’ in my life has changed except for the fact that I’m taking physical therapy for my shitty ass legs.”
“When’s the last time you hung out with someone your age?”
“Are you a sheriff now? What’s up with all these weird questions?”
“You shouldn't answer a question with a question.” Johnny made a face as he grimaced.
“I don’t know. Like maybe a few weeks ago, Happy?”
“You should socialize more. Stop holdin’ back already.” Tim looked at Johnny with familiarity in his eyes as If they’d known each other from somewhere, he felt chills. “You’re a good guy, just cause you have crutches doesn't mean you aren’t a good catch.”
“Even if I tried s’not like anything’s gon’ happen, I just want to focus on me. There’s no need for friendship bullshit.”
“That’s bullshit and we both know it. You have time for both. Stop wastin your youth on some petty shit that happened a long time ago. You’re beyond them and that’s fact.” He felt his face flush with heat as Tim placed a hand on his shoulder, “if you’re ever free not moping around you should hang with me. Ride horses n shit. Don’t that sound fun?”
“Ugh whatever save me the sappy shit for later.” Tim tipped his hat, god why did they let him wear it here, and continued to do whatever he was doing. As he watched him, Johnny couldn’t help but feel some warmth for him. After moving to a place like this AKA San Francisco, Tim was the first to approach him. He almost saw him as like that old co-worker that was like a sort of older sibling. It was hard to lay a finger on the proper explanation but, regardless, he was appreciative of the older much more western man. Johnny often wondered why he stuck to being a barista in a shit place like this instead of becoming a Sheriff. As much as the man denied how good he’d be, Johnny always persisted. It was an eye for an eye anyways. If Tim could bother him about his personal life, then Johnny might as well do the same.
The day came closer to an end as 6PM finally showed itself on the clock. God bless. He leaned on the cash register not realizing how tired he was until he felt the movement and presence of someone standing in front of him while he slowly drifted his eyes close. He tried to conceal a sigh but that didn’t turn to work out. As he lifted his upper body off the probably very unsanitized cash register, he was greeted by a giant but very appealing looking man. He had long dirty blonde hair, green painted lips along with golden grills. His shirt was a bit too thin as you could literally see the abs imprinted on the shirt. He also had gray sweatpants on. Nice. He’d definitely peg if he was a girl. As the two met eyes, he could’ve sworn he’d seen this man from somewhere. For fucks sake, everyone at this point is starting to look familiar now. He’s said this shit enough times it’s starting to bother him. The man instantly froze, expression turning into a frown but quickly changing to something unreadable.
“Johnny is that you?” his voice seemed to be a bit shaky and uncertain, this situation was kinda turning weirder and weirder by the second.
“Well uh yeah, s’me? Why do I know you or something?” his voice was thickly laced in a tired slur of words as the man In front of him almost looked hurt.
“I guess not. I must’ve confused you with someone else.” the man’s demeanor changed into something more stiff as his personality did a complete one eighty.
“Anyways, what you gonna order.”
“Oh yeah, I’ll have an espresso. whatever size
is fine.”
“That all?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I get a name for your order?”
“It’s Gyro.”
“Alright I'll call your name when it's ready.” as the foreign man (from what he could pick up being an Italian accent) trotted off to a nearby table, Johnny couldn't help but linger over that name. He’s heard of it from somewhere— at least, that’s what his heart remembered, considering the amount of swelling pain he began to feel. Strange.
Tim was the one who ended up calling the name as the man came to pick up the espresso. His face seemed a little disappointed, probably had a lot on his mind or something— he wasn’t the best at reading expressions. As he left, Johnny locked eyes with the Italian, this time around, he couldn’t read him. It was as if he looked at him with distance. Johnny felt his heart beat erratically against his chest, something about that man was strange. For some reason he felt comforted by some random Italian guy's presence. God, this day was already long enough and now his thoughts were thrown carelessly into a blender because of some foreigner. His mind really loved fucking with him huh? Whatever, he’ll just forget about him the next day and continue living out his life like usual. If only his heart felt the same way.