Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Many don't understand gods. 

To be fair, many knew little about the afterlife as well. From reincarnation to the various forms of heaven and hell that might or might not exist, humans had always found themselves unable to get definitive answers. There were many who had, along with those who continued, to spend their entire lives trying ever so desperately to discover the many secrets of religion and the afterlife, but they all continued to come up short. 

Not that such a thing mattered.  

After all, the age of gods and deities had long since ended, not with a bang but a quiet murmur that left much to the imagination, mainly because they were all dead, or rather, most of them were dead. The one who had killed the golden age of immortals was mere ash, joining the ranks of his victims with little to no grace, meaning there was exactly one god left behind. 

That god was asleep. Resting. Or maybe one would rather use the term hibernation for the long time periods the immortal remained in comatose? 

Well, no matter which term one preferred, the god was lost to the realm of dreams.

The male in question had a rather striking appearance. His frame, lean, bony, yet clearly muscular despite how lightweight he must be, made even more noticeable because his body was completely bare. Not that many would consider it to be such a bad thing. As mentioned previously, his appearance was striking, yet his beauty was more unnatural than most. Yet a masterpiece all the same. Despite his clear beauty, his body was marred with distinct scars and tattoos. Or maybe not 'marred' depending on one's views, but that isn't important. 

The main set of scars were a massive cross-shaped brand on the front of his chest, twenty-five inches from his Adam's Apple to his hips and belly button and twenty-five inches across, then a scar along his throat, that was five inches wide at most and half an inch at the least ripped open in a way that resembled a Glasgow smile, two massive wounds then ran parallel down his back about the same length as the brand, and finally a series of older scars along his legs, mainly burns on his thighs, and a series of thinner scars at his ankles. 

The tattoos were clearly of a different story. On the inside of each forearm was a word; Dio on the right, Diavolo on the left. The companion piece to those two words was left trailing down the line of his spine in between the two scars mentioned earlier. It was the word; Giudizio. All together they meant god, devil, and judgment in Italian, with each word being fully capitalized and in jagged, solid black lettering. The other tattoos were much less on the nose, two capital 'X's that resided on the side of each shoulder in that same jagged font. A bluish black band about five inches wide was at each wrist and ankle, more decorative than anything else, and on the outer calf and knee of his left leg was a series of symbols in dark gold that seemed to glow in the low light and stand out against his already pale skin. The top was two lines made to resemble a cobra with the first line being like the symbol 'omega', representing the hood of the serpent, with the other line, more similar to a capital 'I' being the head of the snake and muzzle. The next symbol was a curved seven, and the other a jagged 'v', stopping above the scarring that curved around his ankles as if bone fragments had tried to escape flesh.  

Though it was clear, the god didn't care about the possibility of being watched. In fact, all the god did was roll over in his sleep, which sent a rather dark cascade of H/c hair over his shoulder and down his chest. Yet if one were to pull back, they'd see the perch he had chosen was more akin to a sacrificial altar rather than a throne fit for an immortal, but that was neither here nor there. What did matter was the raspy hiss that escaped his lips, and how for a moment his right eye slowly opened, revealing a slit-shaped pupil that narrowed at the light to a mere shard of black in a sea of E/c before the god's eye once again closed with a hum. The universe around almost purred in response. 

And, just like that, peace was temporarily restored. 

-

“ You want to know what kind of person you are, don’t you, N/n? But isn’t that obvious? Fine, fine, I'll be the one to break it to you, I suppose. 

You're a mess.

What? Do you want something better than that?

Fine. 

Let’s see...you’re the person who has to help others despite your nature and clear preference for solitude. You’re nothing more than scenery that gets taken advantage of. You work best alone. You can’t handle other people because you don’t know how to. The few friends you’ve kept have all been people you were willing to die for, so I guess you’re loyal, but it’s not as if you have that many who can stand you. Ironically enough, you have little to no value in family ties, but I don’t think anyone could blame you for that one, given your background. Weirdly enough, you actually have a rather strong sense of propriety, even if you can never keep up the act for long. Especially not with that stand of yours! You’re also the type of person to bury all of that mental and physical pain away and drown in it. You’re attached to the idea of human interaction, but you’d rather live without it. Yet it was you who became a beacon of hope to those in need of succor. You’re emotional, more so because of your stand, and you can’t fully keep yourself under control, especially now that your blood has changed. Tch, I remember how annoying that sensation was, but I didn’t have all of those unpleasant side effects. It must be from that stand of yours. How delightful, even now it will curse you. Anyway, moving on, you’re helpful by nature, as I mentioned earlier, yet you explode at those you care for, and then return to normalcy when the pain is gone. You’d probably be a good actor. Oh, does that upset you? You have a strong sense of right and wrong, but you’re left confused and uncertain in times of stress or when you need to make a tough decision, so it isn’t that special. There's always hesitation when you need your stand to fight, and you never put your own needs first. 

That's who you are. 

And you'll always be that person, no matter how long you sit in a seat that never belonged to you.

I mean...it's ironic; you know that, right N/n?

You love so much!

That's the reason you're here, because you have to care so deeply about people. Most of them were people you had never met, would never meet, yet you still acted. Admirable, but it also points out how flawed your plan was. To take my place? And then what? Look at you! All you do is sleep or wait for something to happen. Aren't you tired of that? You can do anything, make anything, change anything, and yet, all you do is sit and wait?

You're a fucking fool."

-

The realm of the gods was...particular.

Currently, it was known as the void, a mere nickname given by its only residence, and it had always carried more presence than a simple location, almost as if it were deeply haunted, but to the gods that had lived in the realm it had only ever been compared to a stand. Many that had lived there in the past had argued for hours with their companions about how the location must've been a stand that had simply continued existing after its user had died. They weren't entirely wrong. 

But that wasn't what mattered right at this moment. 

The realm shuddered and stalled at the feeling of an event waiting on the horizons that was sure to cause problems for its current resident, and for a moment, it felt as though it had more purpose than it had in two eons. The crystalline bubbles that floated above the god, similar to the number of stars in the night sky, shook, clicking against each other like glasses in a toast before one lone orb finally floated down to the god who awoke. 

M/n, for that and that alone was the god's name, pulled himself up into a rather stiff sitting position, and his sensitive ears picked up the sound of muscles that were tearing and ripping from lack of use, only to start healing as blood flow moved at a regular pace again. A low groan escaped the male's lips as his eyes fully opened for the first time in centuries. Pupils left expanding, shrinking with each blink as his eyes tried to adjust his vision to the light. Despite the realm only having a dull purple glow, his eyes still took a few minutes to adjust from centuries of slumber. Not to mention how the purple glow made his already pale skin look even more sickly, giving each dip in flesh a darker shading. Too much. Too many layers.

Finally, his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of his home, allowing him to examine the area and figure out what had awoken him. Mostly, everything seemed in order; the universes that swirled beneath still held him as the center and didn't change pace, and besides for a single orb, the 'sky' remained in perfect condition. He moved forward on his perch, unbothered by the tearing muscles or cracking bones, reaching out a hand and beckoned for it to get closer. His nails, more akin to claws, scraped along the smooth sides of the orb.

"Hm?"

In a moment, the god stilled.

After a long period of no reaction, he snarled, hair bristling as he instinctively bared his fangs, revealing the prominent fork in his tongue as he looked away. It didn't matter; the surface didn't change, and the scene was already ingrained into his mind on repeat. It was disgusting to see one's own death; especially when it looked like a gaudy nightmare. The view was mainly gold and purple, since he couldn't see the male's face, just his long blond hair and the glowing white stand he possessed. It was destroying his own stand, which served as the only known way to kill a god, a process M/n was quite intimate with. Despite not being able to see most of his would-be killer his gaze still lingered on the outline of his biceps, for a gay theater kid turned god, there was no way he could deny the allure of the male, but that train of thought just led to him letting out a rather self-deprecating sigh. 

To be drooling over his own killer, how pathetic. 

Choosing to ignore that, M/n went over what he could see of this would-be god. The word 'Dio' was lovingly embroidered along both the male's skin and outfit, but that didn't tell him anything given that he had Dio tattooed on the inside of his right arm to serve as a reminder of the position M/n had dedicated himself to. That feature was probably the same on his killer, but taken to an extreme of some sorts. He shivered, despite himself. While he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep...if he didn't move, well, then death would be certain. He snarled again at the realization. For what else could he do at that? It was foolish of anyone, even a god, to deny prophecy. The galaxies below him heated at the beginning, signs of his anger, but he didn't bother to change it, instead choosing to lean back, feeling far more akin to a stray cat than a god. 

He found himself unwilling to draw breath.

Why did that even matter? 

It wasn't as if he needed air.

Oh...he was having a panic attack. 

This whole sensation was familiar, but this time he found himself alone, as if he wasn't always alone these days. Even the voices were soft. Mere whispers. This was certainly familiar, and M/n knew he wasn't stable, judging by how badly he was shaking. His grip instinctively tightened on the orb still in his grasp, making neon blue cracks form until he let go with a soft sigh. To think his own messengers would be so fragile. With a shake of his head, he watched it rejoin the others, and he moved off his perch; the ground rippling for a moment before it was solid enough to walk on, allowing him to pace.  

This was strange...no one had tried to kill him in three whole resets.

Had he been doing badly?

Holding out his hand, a delicate motion that had a level of grace most would find odd, a different orb launched itself into his palm on instinct, and when he examined it, he saw a...star. 

…what the fuck?

The star was dark red in coloration, honestly it reminded the god of a ruby, though since it was surrounded by a tan hue, M/n quickly made the decision that the symbol must be a tattoo or birthmark. Cocking his head to the side, he watched the image fade away, not willing to understand what exactly it meant. 

A god was supposed to be all knowing, is, well, that's what most people would say. 

However, M/n didn't enjoy that.

Prophecy was damning in its finest sense. 

The image rippled, showing him a street in London, and M/n knew that this was the start of something big. 

How interesting. 

Maybe his killer's appearance was based on his stand, or some facet of it, given how M/n's stand had led to him developing so many snake-like traits after ascending. Hm, he couldn't say for certain, but that was fine for now. Moving back towards his perch, he focused on the problem of his appearance. Most of his features were inhuman, and he couldn't hide his scars or tattoos. Oh well, he'd just have to accept that. He was more upset about cutting his hair, or rather changing it to appear short for a brief period, though he ignored the mild sense of disappointment as his form changed. Allowing the universe to decide a form for him for the first time. His eyes went from a neon shade of E/c to a regular, human shade along with his pupils not being as slit-like, his skin regained more of its natural pigment, and his hair shortened and stopped floating. He was annoyed by the change in height, but he should be fine. 

A mirror formed and M/n quickly looked over himself. Yeah, he was fine. 

Back to fourteen again, though.

Or, at least in the god's eyes, his appearance was fine, but most people would describe him as strangely gorgeous or something to draw the gaze. A person could only describe his beauty as that moment where you stared at a dead loved one through the crystalline surface of the coffin, pale yet clean, a kind of beauty that one could admire, yes, but also would send shivers and a chill crawling down their spine. This was a type of beauty to be feared even before one knew of the male's more eccentric lifestyle, or gothic aesthetic from his mortal life. And while at this age it was clearly not a sexual thing or an attraction of the word for anyone with...morals, it was still beauty where you almost felt as if you were looking at something more than human, or perhaps something other than. Like the fae. 

So no, saying the god was 'fine' in terms of looks would be the same as one pointing at a model and daring to call him or her plain.

The god stopped mid-step, sensing a sort of questioning from the area he inhabited. Not that he was surprised. It would've been foolish of him to not acknowledge the sentience of his home. Lifting his head, he listened to the silent inquiry, humming softly in response. 

"Aut viam inveniam aut faciam." He cooed back to his home, feeling a small shiver go down his spine as he left. 

The moment the soles of his newly formed boots, because he couldn't just appear in the mortal world bare, touched the stone, he felt as if something was wrong. Shifting his position to look around, he realized he was standing in the center of the road rather than the sidewalk, like he had originally planned, and that he was directly in the path of a horse-drawn carriage. 

"Oh, fuck m-"

-

Once upon a time, god asked you to build an ark, but all you can do is build a set because you're fourteen. 

"I have to go. I need to wear my costume for the show." 

"No. Do you know how small your waist is? Here, feel my face." 

"What are you doing?"

"Do you want to hear a joke?"

"Sure."

"Since you're a gay art student, you'll never escape the theater or the trauma that came with it." 

"That's not funny." 

"Well, you've always been too fucking sensitive."

"I'm going to bash your fucking skull in!" So you grab dinner plates and throw them to the ground. The plates are obviously too sensitive, and the ground doesn't change.

Oh well. 

-

This was...impossible. 

It shouldn’t be this hard. 

Really...it shouldn’t.

He was far from some child that couldn’t sit still for long periods of time, but...No, no, he could sit, or rather lay down on the bed, and play the role of hospital patient. All he had to do was sit. All he could do was lie in wait, for movement should be forbidden when someone was operating on his body, so all he could do, or rather should do, is look back on the annoying events that led to a literal god being tied down with scalpels going in and out of his body. All to help him ‘recover’, but he hated this. He had nothing better to do. That was probably a lie. Even blacking out wouldn’t have distracted him from his cursed train of thought and not even the most potent of drugs...Now, wait just a second...that gave him an idea.

After a few moments, the male could sit up and watch the operation taking place. To think that it had taken him so long to realize that he just needed to use his stand to keep the doctors...in line. Especially when he had already been using it at its lowest level to prevent them from seeing the true coloration of his blood. Now he could do whatever he pleased while they basically dissected him. Not like it hurt. In fact, injuries could only serve as increased pleasure for the god.

To explain, in a sort of biology lesson; a god’s level of regeneration was by definition absurd, even destroying the physical form couldn't kill a god, this was why the stand had to be shattered to kill one, minus a few choice exceptions that mostly remained unknown, but that wasn’t what prevented the male from feeling pain. His blood itself caused the lack of reaction. M/n’s blood was a molten gold color, and it didn’t even classify as blood. In actuality, it was more akin to a series of drugs rather than anything fully organic. Or perhaps purely organic. Hallucinogens, aphrodisiacs, etc. Due to this, the god was cursed to be stuck in a perpetual high. The closest he could ever come to a withdrawal was the loss of blood, but then his regeneration would kick in. Restarting the process. If he looked back and remembered correctly, a bit of a difficult situation given the cursed memory problems he had been given over the years, Ajamu’s blood had been black like tar, so maybe it was based on the person’s stand given what his did. 

Then, what did Ajamu’s blood even do...No, it didn’t matter. While Ajamu was dead and gone, he was still alive and that was all that mattered. 

So regeneration was an annoyance, pain was something he couldn’t feel, godhood sucked, his entire existence was dull, and his job was a fucking burden. 

Still, at least he had a stand that could manipulate those around him, even if most only needed a small push to see his blood as scarlet. Then again, it was easy to trick the human mind to see what it should see rather than what it considered inhumane or something otherworldly. And at least he had his stand, and he wasn't alone. Though he wished, not for the first time, that he had time to dodge without making his inhuman nature obvious to any bystanders, but sadly, such an action would either get him called a witch or a man possessed by the devil himself, and he didn’t like the idea of ‘dying’. In reality, he found the horses boring with most of his problems being force of motion and the back wheel of that carriage, but his time as a mortal had exposed him to worse, and it wasn’t as if he felt anything more than the impact and the weight and pressure of the motion. 

Choosing to ignore the doctors along with the golden haze that had filled the whites of their eyes, and even their pupils at points, M/n swiped a hand against the side of his chest to taste his own ‘blood’ dripping down the sides of his frame. It was a familiar taste. Sickly sweet like a dessert, but thicker than mere syrup, flooding his mouth, earning a low hum from the god. 

Ichor. 

Refreshing.

Yet annoying all the same. 

-

People think of me as gentle and romantic rather than hungry. I wrote a poem about eating a man. People read it in a way that made both it, and me, out to be romantic. Sorry to all the people that fell in love with a version of me that never existed. The act of beating people into bloody messes doesn't make the bat or blood sacred. The soap you're using is milk and honey scented. that doesn't make this place Jerusalem, and it certainly doesn't make our hands holy. When I said things along the lines of; I have a lot of theories on human bodies, and human bodies are meant to hold other bodies. I didn't mean sex. I meant that we have canines for a reason.

-

Jonathan pressed himself further backwards, the wooden chair pressing a bit too far into his spine, but he ignored how uncomfortable it was in favor of sneaking yet another glance towards his father, who was now deep in conversation with two of the many doctors that had arrived to tend to their guest. Quickly, he looked away the moment his father stopped talking. Instead, looking down at his hands carefully flexing his fingers before looking up at the sound of footsteps showing everyone had once again left the room. The day had just broken an hour ago with the rising of the sun. The doctors hadn't left the room till now, and the few that had, hadn't stopped to speak with anyone. They seemed off, swaying and murmuring, with eyes that seemed to have a distilled, gold tint to them. It must be exhausting. They had been busy, given the thick layer of blood staining their gloves. 

Weird, for a moment, and only at certain angles, the blood appeared gold, but that had to be a trick of the light. 

Anyway, the real question was; why had he been standing in the middle of the road? If the driver's account was to be believed, and Jonathan chose to believe the older man, then their new guest had simply been standing on the road as if he had just appeared there. 

-

When I was young, I ate a virgin.

He didn't make me holy.

…he made me heavy.

-

A few hours later Jonathan finally received permission to visit their guest, and he trembled from excitement, or nerves, and he still wasn’t sure if all of those feelings related back to the terrible circumstances leading up to their meeting. Surely no one could fault him for being excited about meeting someone? He wasn’t trying to be too forward, rather; he was lonely. There was no one his age who willingly spoke to him. In fact, most heard his last name and detested him more times than not. 

Slowly, he pushed the wooden door open, carefully, to not wake the person sleeping inside the room, but he didn’t even take a step inside the room before he flinched back. He was sure that he had heard something hissing, but this area, especially in the middle of winter, didn't have snakes. There outlined a large figure pressed in the room's corner. Was it a demon? Or rather a guardian angel similar to the one whose stature resided at the main entry point of the house?

"It’s rude to hide in the shadows.” Jonathan flinched, stepping into the room without thinking, an apology dying on his lips at the sound of someone snickering at him. Looking back, he saw the boy sitting up in the bed, staring at him with dim eyes. A shiver went down his spine, yet he found himself unable to look away from the male’s eyes. They were E/c in coloration, with golden flecks mixed in. It reminded him of stars. "Now, who are you?"

“Oh! I’m sorry to disturb you. My name’s Jonathan Joestar, and you’re currently staying in my father’s manor. Are you alright? Do you need anything? I could get you something to drink or some pain medication if needed.” Jonathan tensed as he heard another hiss echo right behind his ears, and when the other paused, mouth still somewhat open, he swore he saw fangs that wouldn’t be out of place in the mouth of a snake, but then he closed his mouth and the room went quiet. He must be imagining things from staying awake too long, though the motion of the male quickly caught his attention. “Wait, you shouldn’t get up! You were terribly injured. Most of the doctors believed it would’ve been more humane to-”

“You don’t need to say anything! I know exactly what my body can handle.” For a moment, Jonathan was frozen, till he realized there was no real anger in his voice, only a growing sense of frustration and annoyance, something that made him relax even at the soft snarl he received when he tried to get the male to lay back down on the bed. He was surprised by how prickly the male was even when he should be comatose from just getting out of surgery. “The name’s M/n. I see no reason to lie, so I won’t call this a pleasant meeting, but I need to thank both you and your father for the hospitality.”

“I understand...I also wish that I could call this a pleasant encounter, but that isn’t possible. Still, we need to know your family name so we can contact them and tell them you've been involved in an accident.” The boy, now known as M/n, tensed under his grasp before slapping his hand away, looking away as his eyes narrowed. Again, he swore that the male’s pupils had been slits, along with those fangs, only for the image to seemingly flicker. “I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, but we really need to-”

"Listen, I get what you’re saying. I just don’t have a family name to give you.” M/n felt the strongest urge to scoff bubble up inside of him, desperate to snap at the look of pure shock on the male’s face. He wasn’t expecting to meet the human embodiment of a puppy, especially since he was much more of a cat person. Not that the statement was a full lie, simply a smaller white one that also served as the best answer he could give him. It had been ages since he was last mortal, and he had the displeasure of dying rather young, i.e.; early twenties, so it was completely understandable, at least in his mind, that his memory had decayed. Not like he wanted to think about his former bloodline or relatives...well, except for one. “Now, since I can’t remember any family members, we should just assume that I don’t have any. I’ve always been M/n, nothing more and nothing less, so don’t go apologizing about it. I would’ve told you to stop talking if I cared, besides it's my fault for getting run over.”

"That's not true!" The god twitched, hands nearly going for his sensitive ears at Jonathan’s panicked outburst, watching him then whip his head around to stare at the door in case anyone had come running at the sound of his voice. After a moment, when no one came running, Jonathan slumped in relief, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. M/n used that moment to adjust his shoulders, already feeling the muscles rip and tear at being knocked around after so little use. Then, after that, knots would form and it would just be an annoyance.

Honestly, he was just annoyed that Jonathan took up so much room, despite this form being a year or two older than the boy.  

“Relax. Just trying to make light of the situation, plus it wasn't as if I'm wrong, since I was the one who moved in front of a carriage. I have to deal with the consequences." If he had to switch realms often in the future, then he needed to get better at landing. "Maybe I could work here to repay your father? I could be a bodyguard."

"N-no...there's no need for any of that! I don't need a bodyguard, and we certainly don't need any more servants! My father would never expect that of you, and if you don't have anywhere to go, then I'll do everything in my power to make sure you can stay here." M/n pretended to swallow down a weak protest, though he needed to eat soon enough. 

“That would...you have no idea how thankful I am for this, Jonathan.”

It was all going according to plan...is what he would say if he actually had a plan.

-

I grew up on a farm. When I was younger, animals would sneak into the chicken coop at night to kill whatever they could. There would be dead hens in the morning lying down on their backs and sides. Heads would be torn off. Blood spilled over. Feathers caught in chicken wire. At first I buried them with names on the gravestones till I stopped naming them. My life was entrails strung up like Christmas lights, things hissing on cold mornings, bangs and tails on the walls, fathers asking how old you are and if you'll finally shut the fuck up. A raccoon will kill a chicken for the violence of the act. A weasel will kill for the game. We all have blood on our hands. But you shouldn't cry like it's your body torn apart on the floor. That will give people the wrong idea.

-

M/n stopped mid-step, frown forming on his face, as he registered the distant sound of kids jeering, and he knew that his anger was well founded this time. It was to where he could feel his stand shifting just a few layers beneath his skin, and finally M/n registered the smell of blood. His frown deepened as he turned on his heel and made his way to the bullies, allowing himself to ignore Jonathan for once. His movements were slightly shaky as if he were nothing more than a newborn deer. He heard Jonathan yelp in pain, and that was enough. He wanted to rip them apart. His mouth watered and his stomach growled. 

How did he always get into trouble when M/n left his side? 

Then again, it wasn't as if he suspected any less, since Jonathan was strange. Even after knowing him for a while now, M/n still had trouble trying to describe the heir to the Joestar legacy. Maybe it was the long periods of solitude that made M/n so unsure of his own thoughts? No matter what exactly the reason was, M/n was certain that some small part of him enjoyed being around Jonathan, and that was good enough for now. Even if all of Jonathan's attempts at bonding were sports. 

"There you are!"

M/n looked up just in time to see the two bullies approaching him with the smell of Jonathan's blood still clinging to their fists. M/n resisted the urge to scoff or groan at them since he didn't kill kids. But still; who were they trying to scare here? Did two mortal children really look at him and think that he was the kind of person to be so easily moved or pushed aside? 

"I've heard about you. Aren't you that little street rat the Joestar family took in?" It really felt like mortals were slowly downgrading in intelligence rather than gaining it. 

"Yes, I am. Is there anything you gentlemen need?" 

"Don't go acting so high and mighty! The two of us already made quick work of your friend! Or is he your master?" It shouldn't have bothered M/n, but that master comment really got to him. His lip pulled back, revealing the sharp fangs he possessed as his stand shifted under his skin, desperate to come out and attack someone. No, he couldn't be bothered by them. They weren't special, after all. So why on earth should he bother with them in the first place? He didn't want to waste his time learning their names, or letting them bitch, and he refused to flinch away no matter how human he was pretending to be at the moment.

He couldn't do anything too bad to them. Even without considering his own morals, Jonathan would never look at him the same way if he knew what exactly M/n thought, or what sins he had committed in the past. He'd be terrified. He'd be left as little more than a monster in Jonathan's eyes...when did he care about a mortal's opinion?

"According to Sir George Joestar, I am to be treated as Jonathan’s equal, so no, he isn’t my master. Is that all you two needed to know?” The bigger one, if he so wished, M/n would call this one the alpha, approached him until they were standing nose-to-nose. A wave of anger sparked through him, and his tongue ran over his fangs, ignoring the amount of drool that filled his mouth. The brute's hand grabbed his side, pulling him closer, earning a low huff from the stand user as he shifted, not bothering to escape the male's grasp. 

"Are you really a man?" M/n raised an eyebrow as a hand tugged on his vest, nearly causing his feet to leave the ground as he was jerked forward. "How could someone so dainty have survived in the streets?"

…were they really bothered by his appearance? M/n had never been in denial. He had always been more androgynous than feminine or masculine, especially not the latter when compared to someone like Jonathan who would probably grow to be six foot five or something similar. It would never upset him. He knew his body type, and that was it. Honestly, M/n was more surprised by him even mentioning it.

"Are you gonna give me an answer?" 

"I assumed it was obvious that I had no intention of speaking with you. Given your idiocy, there's no reason for me to even attempt conversation." M/n received a rather nasty glare in response, followed by the boy raising a hand, which sent his stand on the offensive. The male was sent backwards, screaming and clutching his face, while the other was also yelling as he ran away, completely abandoning his companion. He licked some of the blood smeared on his face off, humming in enjoyment at the iron flavor. He felt so alive. Still, his stand didn't move to finish the boy off despite its hunger. After all, this was still a child. He'd find someone for his stand. He'd be patient. 

"You're a monster!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't even touch you." That earned a panicked gasp from the kid as M/n smiled to showcase his fangs. There was fear in the air, but that wasn't anything special. "By the way, since your friend left, I want you to pass on this message for me; I won't tolerate the two of you antagonizing Jonathan anymore. If the two of you continue this bullshit, I won't be so kind." 

At that he ran off, and M/n looked to the bloodstained grass where a single eyeball was lying on the ground. Grabbing it carefully, he had no intention of crushing it. He held it out, watching a giant fanged maw appear and swallow it whole. 

-

I climbed up the tower to see a vulture's nest with eggs in it. We were over thirty feet in the air. A snake was in the nest eating eggs. My mother gave me a square of paper so I folded it into a vulture. I made all of them into vultures. A boy gave me a valentine. I made it into a vulture. The snake didn't like it. He just hissed. The eggs were better. The vultures would kill chickens. The snake is fine. You let it eat vultures. That is a fair deal. 

"I live to create," you murmur.

"You only make echoes," the snake replies. 

"I live because my room is dirty, you know?"

"How?"

"It'd be embarrassing to die in a dirty room."

-

"M/N!" The heir to the Joestar family felt a grin form on his face, despite the urge to wince at the small sparks of pain that flared through his cheeks as he caught sight of the male lingering near the tree line. Watching him. M/n was the same as always. He always remained on the sidelines watching Jonathan while waiting for him to approach. Never the other way around. For a single moment Jonathan swore he saw M/n's eyes gain a slight golden glow from his place in the shadows. This seemed to happen more and more frequently since he and M/n became friends. "Where were you?"

"Oh, me? I was just resting by the river." He lazily swiped a hand across his own cheek. When he pulled back, the male could see what appeared to be blood staining his fingertips. Strange. Why would M/n have blood on his hands? A soft sigh escaped M/n's lips and Jonathan felt guilty for potentially making him worry. He looked exhausted. Which wasn't saying much given the ever-present bags under his eyes, yet it felt off this time. He was probably just overthinking it. Stepping out of the shadows, the H/c haired male crossed the distance between them, brushing a hand over Jonathan's cheek, and when he pulled back, there was dark blood. In the same place as the stain he had seen moments prior...Jonathan had wiped the blood off his face, right? "You're hurt."

Jonathan nodded, ignoring his confusion as he placed a hand on the male's slender shoulders, feeling lean muscles and bone beneath. Honestly, M/n was far too thin, but no matter what he said, the male kept his diet sparse. "I had to protect a lady from some bullies, but you shouldn't worry, it isn’t that bad. I barely even feel it, I'm sure-"

"I know it probably isn't serious, but I'll take care of it when we get home. You don't want to risk infection."

Jonathan nodded with little persuasion needed as M/n turned and beckoned for him to follow. Between the two of them, Jonathan knew he had never been the gifted one in academic studies, but he considered himself a decent judge of character. M/n, while quiet, icy, and craving little more than solitude most days, also was a good person, even if a bit awkward. His greatest faults could be his willingness to take a punishment for someone he cared about or his habit of simply speaking his mind while ignoring the consequences. That last one led to him getting into fight after fight, yet never seeming to get any injuries that lasted more than a few minutes. Yet whenever he kept his tongue in check, he showed a surprisingly empathetic and rational side. Even rarer were the moments when he would let down his guard and be, dare Jonathan say, childish. 

"Come on, Jonathan, we don't have all day for you to be lost in thought." 

"You seem eager to get back. Did I forget a holiday, perhaps?" It wouldn't come as a surprise to Jonathan. M/n also had the tendency to be ahead of most people. At one point, a tutor of theirs had called M/n a devil worshiper, only for his father to fire the man on the spot. No matter what, M/n kept his secrets closely guarded, and one day he hoped that he could have some insight on what went through M/n's head. 

"Who knows? Maybe~!" There it is! M/n's voice lightened, gaining a teasing lilt as he spun around to whistle for Danny, who leaped out of the woods and gave chase. Without hesitating, Jonathan chased after the sound of M/n's laughter.  

What had put the other in such a good mood?

-

"No one will love you after knowing you for a month." Would something have better contextualized my pain? Did I miss it? Unless…unless you've been right all this time, and all this ugliness is just my mind trying to bend around the truth? No one will love you after knowing you for a month. You said that to me, dad, and now I'm stuck in the kitchen window. 

"I have friends! I do!"

"How long have they known you? Not long enough or they'd have left. I can't even bring myself to look at you. I don't know where I went wrong raising you, but you're a hateful, evil child. You break my heart. I'm a terrible father, I guess."

And what can I say? Arguing with the night sky is something unimaginable. I can't even wrap my head around the thought of it.

-

'Fuck. Why do I feel as if anything is about to fall apart?' His mind was scrambled, a series of thoughts frantically repeating in his mind. It was that kind of pattern that would make most humans assume they had gone insane. To god it was just normal. Always another voice. Always noise. He couldn't fathom silence. He was always thinking of too much or too little. There was also a quiet layer of acceptance that had taken over any irrational panicking. He didn't know what the future held. Even if part of him liked the weird human existence, he currently had. He enjoyed food, companionship, actually dreaming, etc. Hell, part of him even enjoyed the childish superstitions that Jonathan made him take part in whenever the chance arose.

This would probably be over soon. At one point or another, Jonathan would find someone and M/n knew he would be tossed aside. Merely a thing of the past. 

'I feel sad.' He couldn't place why, but his chest itched. It must be the scars on his skin. When the pair and dog arrived back at the manor, a strange shiver ran down his spine. Jonathan gestured for Danny to drink some water when he registered the sound of horses approaching. Oh? 'Why do I feel so eager for this? Just how human am I becoming?'

Jonathan spun around and watched the chestnut horses approach the manor with a confused look on his face before it came to a halt, with the passenger door shooting open and an old worn suitcase was sent flying out, hitting the ground with a low thud. M/n twitched at the loud sound, eyes narrowing at the sight. What the fuck was this? Jonathan and him shared a confused look before M/n simply shrugged his shoulders. Right as they both looked back, a blond male leapt out of the carriage that made M/n look away for a reason he couldn't quite explain. Did he find this guy attractive or something? Then again, the male seemed to be...setting him off. He had a bad feeling about all of this. Not even the dramatic pose the blond did, while being hilarious, could distract him from his scattered thoughts or the sting in his chest when he saw the soft, hopeful look Jonathan gave Dio. Not that such a thing surprised him, considering how badly Jonathan wanted to have more friends his age, and just M/n by himself couldn't possibly hope to fix that, but it didn't make it sting any less. 

Not that it mattered, M/n already knew that.

'Is this why M/n wanted us to get home so badly?' Jonathan flinched at the cold glare he received from the blond, his eyes were a cold shade of amber, and even his first meeting with M/n hadn't been as intimidating as this. Still, he forced himself to get rid of that train of thought, although he instinctively took a step to be blocking the male's view with M/n behind him, lost in thought. "You must be Dio Brando?"

"And you're Jonathan Joestar." At that M/n twitched, his vision sparking with a quick flood of images that he had been doing his best to hold back, all burning manors and exploding ships. He didn't allow himself to focus on it. 

"Everyone just calls me Jojo." That was a lie. It also acted as a small change in perspective that calmed M/n down. Sure, Jonathan's father and the few people he interacted with may call him Jojo, but M/n, who was arguably his best friend, never called him that. More times than not, M/n would rather gut himself with a rusty spoon than call him by that nickname, but that was just because he preferred the sentiment of saying someone's full name. Jonathan held so much more value in his mind.

As M/n's brain went through jagged loop after jagged loop, the blond standing across from the pair was already formulating a plan of his own. To Dio, this would be an easy affair. Even with these bare bones introductions, he realized it wouldn't take much work to torment the Joestar heir until he broke down. The boy in front of him had no real life experience, had never had to fight for his meals because he was rich, and the rich didn't struggle. But then there was the matter of the other standing behind the blue-haired boy, looking away. He was clearly a different breed entirely. Despite his more delicate and pointed build, Dio could tell from a glance that this one had come from the streets like him. 

At the sound of a dog barking, the three turned and M/n's eyes widened at the sight of the Great Dane charging towards his owner, causing his stand to mentally shift beneath his skin.

"Danny!" Before he moved to beckon for Danny, Jonathan looked back towards Dio. "Don't worry, that's Danny, my dog. He won't bite. He'll get used to you soon enough."

Out of the corner of his eye M/n saw Dio lift his leg and without thinking he moved to intercept the male, his stand letting out a low hiss as it grabbed Dio's leg, earning a soft gasp from the male. Dio himself whipped his head around to glare at the male who was holding onto his shoulder, only receiving a cold stare in response. Yes, the two of them were definitely cut from the same cloth. 

"M/n, what are you doing?" Like always, Jonathan stared at the surface rather than the murky undertones. He was naïve, always assuming the best of people despite their less than kind intentions, but all M/n did was smile and loosen his grip on the blond while his stand firmly held on. After all, no one could see its hand.

"Dio seemed to be...scared of Danny. I only grabbed him so he wouldn't trip." Dio panicked at that. M/n could feel the shift from the way he held himself to how his eyes widened and then narrowed. "You should probably keep Danny away from him. I mean, we shouldn't force them to interact if Dio's afraid of dogs."

'This M/n must be a servant, or someone else included in Sir Joestar's will, and unlike Jonathan, he seems to be competent, which will make him difficult to deal with. With Jonathan, all I have to do is drive him insane and make his life miserable until he's completely useless, and once I have more knowledge on M/n, I should be able to handle him. First, I need to figure out how he held my leg in place.' Dio watched M/n sigh before following Jonathan, who was keeping a tight hold on Danny, as they went into the manor.

-

I can't remember the car hitting me. My body certainly does.

-

"Ah, there you are! You must be tired Dio, it's a long trip to get here from London. But now you're part of our family, so don't worry, you'll live as my son. Like Jojo and M/n." Sir Joestar's voice was light, happy, and it sent a layer of bile bubbling up in M/n's throat. His selflessness was both inspirational and worrisome. Some, the many who came from lives like M/n and Dio, would call such a thing either ignorance or idiocy. M/n also called it carelessness. "These are the household servants since you may be left alone in the house while I'm doing foreign trade. They'll take care of everything for you."

"I find myself highly thankful for the many favors of the House Joestar." Dio cooed, with a voice sweet as honey, while giving a small bow which earned a confused hum from Jonathan and a raised eyebrow from the god. 

"You know; M/n also grew up on the streets, and Jojo lost his mother when he was an infant. I hope the three of you get along well, especially since the three of you are the same age." M/n resisted the urge to laugh at the 'same age' comment, since he was nothing of the sort. "M/n, would you be willing to show Dio his room?"

"Of course, Sir, it would be my pleasure." For a moment his gaze had gone to the stone mask, an item that, for some unknown reason, constantly caught his eye, and moved towards the staircase as Sir Joestar left for his office. "Jonathan, stay away from Dio's belongings. Either he'll carry them himself, or a servant will do it for him."

Jonathan quickly jumped backwards from the aforementioned suitcase as Dio whipped around, only now realizing how close the other had been to his possessions.

"Now, come on Dio, I have some chores I need to do, so I need you to keep up with me and get a move on."

"Of course, M/n." Dio's voice held a false sense of joy that caused the immortal to hiss in disgust before he spun around to wait halfway up the stairs. Dio stopped on his way towards the stairs to lean down and whisper in Jonathan's ear. "Now, listen here Jojo; just because I'm staying at your home doesn't mean you should act so high and mighty. I like being number one, do you hear that? I don't let anyone in this world walk over me." 

"But I was just trying to be friendly..."

"Oh, and one more thing! M/n was wrong. I'm not afraid of dogs, I hate them. They're nothing but filthy vermin that don't know their place. Don't let that stupid mutt anywhere near me." 

"Dio, I won't repeat myself." Was it just his imagination or did M/n's voice have a barely concealed growl to it?

"Oh, of course, sorry M/n." The blond quickly reached the male, who immediately turned and started up the staircase. "Mr. Joestar mentioned you grew up on the streets of London. I hope you don't mind me asking how you ended up-"

"I was hit by Sir Joestar's carriage. He brought me to the manor and saved my life that night. I was a youth that was abandoned by my family when I was too young to remember them, and after learning about my predicament, he gave me a place to stay." With a sigh, they reached the top of the stairs, and M/n turned to meet the gaze of the shocked blond. "Listen, I have nothing to hide. If you want to, I'll let you read my medical records listing my injuries. It actually serves as an interesting read if you want a profession in the medical industry one day. Anyway, to the left are all the guest rooms. They rarely get used. This room is Sir Joestar's room, which connects to his office. All the way down the hall to the left is a staircase that leads to the kitchen and the servants' quarters. On the side is a staircase that leads to the library. This room is Jonathan's and that one's mine. This one's yours. Each room comes with a private bath and basic essentials. I'll be heading to London tomorrow. If you wish to come with me, then please tell me by the end of the day, and if you don't want to go, then just make me a list of anything you need or want. I'll get it.”

"I...can't give you any money for that." 

"Sir Joestar forgot to say you'll be getting an allowance. We all do well if we study and behave, so I end up getting Jonathan's as well most of the time. Besides, I don't want you to pay me anything. We'll be living together, so that means that we work together and help each other. Corvus oculum corvi non eruit, and all that nonsense. I'll also be getting things for Jonathan." Dio opened the door to his room, not responding. With a sigh, M/n looked back towards the entrance of the manor. "I...I remember what it's like to live on my own, and the things one has to do so they can survive. Jonathan is...idealistic. He doesn't get the true nature of a person often since he's busy hoping. He could fight his greatest threat and cry for them afterwards. I'm not like that...if you need anything, come to me, but I won't tolerate you being cruel to Jonathan. And Dio, I really hope you find a source of peace in the future. Having such a dark fire fueling your soul never works out. Trust me on that."

Dio was left watching M/n go down the hall towards the staircase that led to the library, and the sense of unease vanished with his figure. He pressed an open palm to his throat. He swore that he had felt something grabbing him. However, he had learned something from this; he had been right when it came to Jonathan. The boy would be easy to get rid of. But M/n? M/n would make a much better ally than an enemy.

-

Recently, I moved into an old barn. It's falling apart around me. Cobwebs sag because of the thick layers of dust that cling to them like a second layer of skin. According to the documents, the barn belongs to people. Me specifically. The surrounding woods don't care about contracts or deeds. With the roof long since ripped off. The hayloft smells of mold, birds, and snakes. I work in the storeroom watching the grass snakes hunt down mice as spiders knit above me. A few nights ago I heard scratching from outside the window. I looked up. Something was looking back.

-

"Ow!" The yelp came from Jonathan as the ruler Sir Joestar was holding came down on his knuckles. 

"You got it wrong again, Jojo. This is the sixth time you've made the same basic mistake. Six times! I'll keep this up till you understand! Look at Dio and M/n; they got all twenty questions right."

"Dannazione." M/n huffed, his body slumping slightly in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose while ignoring how Dio smirked and puffed his chest out. Sir's ranting became complete static as an old friend laughed in his ears, but that too was ignored. Carlos was long dead. 

…this was not going well at all. 

-

I don't get lonely. Never have. I've never been sad because no one's around. Bored. Confused. I've missed people who have left because of what could've been. But otherwise I'm fine with it. Relieved even. Most, including myself, thought that it was just inversion, but most introverts want contact. And though I have friends. And I am often intimate in one way or another. If I ever awoke to a world where everyone had vanished overnight, I'd be fine. Relieved even.

-

"Sir Joestar,"

"Hm, M/n? Do you need something?" The teen in the doorway maintained the same position; his back straightened, with his eyes focused on a level point on the wall. He didn't know if M/n did it on purpose, but the boy acted more like a soldier than a child. 

"I wanted to ask you if I could teach Jonathan from now on."

"You want to tutor him?"

"No, I wish to take over teaching Jonathan completely." At that M/n moved into the room, crossing his arms behind his back, and maybe that was his own version of relaxation. Honestly, George didn't know, and that was worrisome. "I think the way you teach him is being more harmful than good. I want to try a different strategy, plus it will help me better review the material, therefore it works out for everyone."

"Are you sure that's what you want? It's hard work teaching someone, and it will take away from your free time." 

"I know what I want, Sir."

"Very well. I still expect you to attend my lessons along with Dio."

"Of course, Sir." With that, M/n turned on his heel and left as silently as he had first appeared. George felt a faint shiver go down his spine when he noticed that the male, seemingly subconsciously, moved in step. Had someone on the streets tried to raise him as a soldier? He never spoke about his past, so the possibilities were there. Being in the army would be a good way to get out of the street and into a more secure lifestyle, but that should be a willing choice, not something forced on someone to prevent starvation. Besides, M/n would hate the military lifestyle...hopefully in time Jonathan would help the other get better, and then the two would help Dio. 

-

Despite my nature. Despite my views. I love religion. There is little else that can paint a cleaner picture of humanity. Religion is humanity's version of itself. It shows beauty. It also shows how different everything is. At the end of the day we are all trying to answer the same question. Some are all-powerful. Unable to make mistakes. Others are deeply flawed. I love it all.

-

M/n yawned, an action that allowed the few nearby to glimpse the snake-like fangs he possessed, as he then shifted into a more comfortable position. Examining his book with the lifeless energy of a man possessed rather than one actually interested in the material. The sound of a good twenty young men yelling and screaming next to him didn't exactly help him focus on the pile of academics. Even if that currently amounted to little more than some man's whining about 'hysterical women' that this century considered gospel. Sports were a completely different thing in M/n's mind. Nineteenth century spots were, albeit in a mental sense, rather different from the ones of his day and age, but it wasn't something that he did, so he only paid the match an occasional glance, since Jonathan clearly enjoyed it. 

"Next, we introduce the challenger; Jonathan Joestar!" At the call Jonathan happily raised one of his boxing gloves, earning a series of cheers from everyone, and when his eyes landed on M/n, the god gave his friend a quick nod. It seemed to boost the male's mood, at the very least. "And the champion; Mark Watkins!!!"

M/n tilted his head, watching how the crowd murmured and looked around the area before it went silent as no one approached the platform.

"Hey, champion, what are you doing? Get in the ring already!!!"

"Quiet, all of you, everyone quiet down!!!" The announcer called, causing the crowd to slowly go silent. M/n leaned forward, eyes narrowing at the sight. What was happening? And how long would they drag this out for? He wanted to read in peace, even if all the books were boring. Dannazione! "We may know his name and looks, but we know nothing of his character! A new friend has joined our game and asked to go in the ring to replace Watkins. I personally believe that watching him box will be a great way to know more about our new friend, don't you all agree?"

The cheer that followed his question nearly blew out M/n's ear drums earning a low hiss. These people were so annoying, surely Jonathan could find something else as time-consuming and 'fun' as boxing. "Just who is it?"

"A new friend...? No way!" Jonathan gasped, eyes widening as the crowd parted to reveal Dio tying his boxing gloves with his teeth. 

"IT'S DIO BRANDO!!!" 

"All right, let's do it!"

"What kind of guy could he be?"

"Okay! We accept! LET THEM AT IT!!!"

"Okay, now that everyone has accepted Brando, our boxing is no mere child's game. Are you ready to gamble?"

"Of course."

"Oh, that much!"

M/n tilted his head while mentally counting the amount of coins. Not that it was that hard to figure out. The way Jonathan's eyes widened at the amount told him that this was an entire month's allowance. Jonathan looked genuinely freaked out by the amount and M/n's bad feeling only grew.

"What'll you do about this, Jojo? Do you accept this wager?"

"A...all right! Let's do it!" Jonathan dropped the coins in the hat and Dio smirked, earning a low hiss from M/n as he leaned back, ignoring how hungry he felt. He'd eat something later. 

"Good! Dio, I'll explain the rules; if you take even one hit to the face you lose, you can take any number of body hits, but a knockout is of course a ten count." 

"If I get a hit to his face, I win...that's almost the same as doing this barehanded. One blow settles the fight. I remember these rules from my days in London." Dio murmured, as he lightly tapped his gloves together, testing out the sensation of the material over his fists. He had never used a pair of boxing gloves that much was obvious to M/n as he leaned back, watching the rise and fall of each male's body as they circled around each other before lunging. 

"JOJO, BEAT THE CRAP OUTTA THAT OUTSIDER!!!"

"Just what are those moves?" 

"His footwork. I've never seen anyone move like that!"

Oh, Dio was using a defensive technique. It was almost like modern swaying in boxing. Interesting, but otherwise a problem for Jonathan. Jonathan couldn't hit him, but his punches were strong enough to potentially knock out Dio if he only landed a hit.

'¿Recuerdas cuando noqueaste a ese tipo, Ouro?'

"...no estoy haciendo humor con un fantasma." He softly growls out, trying to ignore Carlos’ voice. 

Then Dio landed a stomach punch, and the god watched Jonathan gasp at the impact. He had aimed for the diaphragm to knock the wind out of his opponent, and then landed a face hit. M/n couldn't contain the panicked hiss that escaped his mouth when Dio jammed his finger into Jonathan's eye and twisted, causing him to bleed from the socket. 

'That cheat!' It was certainly hypocritical for him to think that since he would probably praise such an underhanded move, especially given his past, but this was an attack on Jonathan, which he counted as an offense against himself. He closed the book with a thud, setting it back on the pile before hopping off his makeshift perch to go help Jonathan up. 

"INCREDIBLE!!!"

"HE'S AMAZING!!!"

"I just knew some new defensive techniques," Dio cooed out, voice maintaining a calm and friendly demeanor, only pausing when he spotted M/n crouching next to Jonathan, wiping the blood off of his face with a handkerchief. "I'd be happy to teach all of you. By the way, I have this too..."

If M/n were paying any attention to Dio, then he'd see the male dazzling the crowd with fireworks he'd obtained. He could register them gasping in delight while Dio made them promise to not tell Jonathan, earning another low growl from him as he helped Jonathan sit up, ignoring the small whimper from the larger male as he attempted to force his eye closed. 

"You okay?"

"M/n, he did that on purpose! Why did he...why on earth did he do that...? My eye...is bleeding?"

"Yeah...I know. You won't have any permanent damage, don't worry, but I have no idea why Dio did that...I'll talk to him about it later. Right now, I need you to stand up. We need to get you back to the manor."

-

I worked at a church briefly. It was strange. Large parts of my life...no, my very existence had been ruined by god. A strange sadness followed me from the pews I walked between. An awkward grief. Like that of a suicide of someone you don't know, but a close friend did. There was a chance at love. At fondness. It was never allowed to grow.

-

Dio stalled halfway out of his room at the sound of a door opening, soon followed by the soft thud of someone's steps as they made their way down the hall. Waiting for the steps to fade somewhat, he finally left the door frame, only to pause at the sight of M/n, who was looking down the stairway before descending. He found himself impressed with how M/n moved; skipping steps that creaked and moving close to furniture to avoid the floors groaning. Entering the kitchen, he stopped at the doorway, registering the sound of flesh ripping and a groaning. Leaning against the wall to better see into the room, Dio froze in what he could only describe as horror. It was no secret that many hunted in this area and George Joestar often bought the best catches from these parties, and he had just purchased a buck, now he was watching the H/c haired male rip one of the buck's eyes out before eating it. His fingers were stained with blood. Giving a quick shake of the head and then repeating the process with the other eye. He watched M/n go to wash his hands only for his gaze to go back to the buck's head, which was being ripped apart by nothing till only horns and bones remained. By the time it was gone M/n had made a small meal and turned to leave, which caused Dio to move, pressing himself down into the shadows as M/n passed by, with seemingly no problems despite the lack of light. 

As soon as he was gone Dio looked back into the kitchen, staring at the skull for a moment before turning to head back to his room, ignoring both the sounds of friendly conversation from Jonathan's room and the series of frantic emotions bubbling up in his chest.

-

I was biting down into the apple at thirteen. Younger than most. I was going to get in trouble if anyone ever found out. They never did. I was being stupid. I didn't know how to take precautions or safety measures. Nothing bad came from it. I found an old worn box from that time. Full of letters from the first snake. Then the next one. And the one after that. One asked me to homecoming. Most were coded so no one would know of our 'sins'. We were just scared kids. At some point I tried online relationships. Those never worked. I craved. At fourteen, someone put their hands on me while I was making a set. Some people figured it out and asked if I was okay. I laughed. Tell that to him. I broke his jaw and both arms the next week with a metal bat. He didn't dare provoke me with charges. He knew I'd finish it. Even if it meant I'd go to jail. Now that I'm eighteen, I wonder why some guy's dad hasn't killed me for 'corrupting' their son and turning him into a faggot.

Oh well.

-

"Really, Jonathan, we're just here to smoke a pipe?" M/n asked, pulling himself up onto the branch with ease although he was twenty feet above ground in heels. That differed vastly from Jonathan, who was swaying back and forth, earning a soft hiss from M/n who darted after him. If anyone other than Danny had been watching them, they might've found the sight funny since M/n moved with complete ease, yet kept looking down at the ground in worry while Jonathan didn't treat his constant swaying and stumbling as an issue. Danny barked below them as Jonathan moved to sit down, ignoring the tired sigh M/n gave as he also settled. Teasingly, he raised the pipe up, earning a scoff from the god as he hung his legs off the branch. "Why did you want to come here to smoke? There has to be a better spot than this one."

"What's wrong? Are you scared of heights?"

"Of course not. I just dislike the idea of dragging you back home with two broken legs. So, what happened yesterday that bothered you so much? I noticed Dio leaving your room. Did he do something to you?" It was always interesting for Jonathan to watch Cas. One moment he was looking away with a dignified huff before quickly looking back at him to ask his questions, though Jonathan flinched at the questioning. 

"I'm fine...Dio took my watch, um, the engraved one, and I doubt that I'll see it again." With a sigh, Jonathan ignored the low snarl that escaped M/n, already knowing the outcome to this. 

He really didn’t want to see M/n and Dio fight, even if Dio was rather rude and acted more like a bully than anything else. There was no doubt in his mind that M/n would pursue this slight if he requested it, or even if it seemed like Dio would continue his behavior, and that made him worry about the other’s safety. M/n didn’t fight. Or, rather, Jonathan had never seen him fight unless verbally, and part of him doubted the male’s ability to hold his own. He was delicate for lack of a better word, even if many who crossed him seemed unwilling to cross his path again, and that wasn’t even mentioning the boy who had been harassing Erina when he first met her who had lost an eye and attempted to blame it on M/n despite how impossible such a claim was. The wounds on his face had been from large claws, not human hands. Of course, many ignored that, leading to the belief that he was possessed or in contact with demons. 

“I’ll take care of it. He’s been avoiding me whenever I try to talk with him about his behavior, and it's getting annoying. I swear he darts between being a perfect gentleman and an alley cat more times than not.” M/n looked off towards the deeper part of the woods connecting to the manor with a far off look in his eyes that Jonathan no longer knew how to translate, even if he was familiar with it. Had this been before Dio had become part of their lives, he would’ve assumed that it was something relating to an academic matter or some sort of interaction that M/n didn’t quite get. Those had never been too hard to predict since M/n took to knowledge like a fish to water though he’d end up complaining about it being inaccurate, yet another reason most claimed he was colluding with dark forces, while the other matters were little more than watching M/n pace around and snarl as he tried to figure out what social interaction he had misinterpreted.

This wasn't either of those. 

His eyes had changed from a dark shade of E/c to a lighter, almost neon, shade of that E/c with those gold flecks seeming both much larger and brighter than normal. However, before he could ask M/n the sound of people talking interrupted the both of them and the two looked off to see a group of young men around their ages, three, not that it was surprising to see a set of young boys hanging out together, laughing and talking a bit too loudly. Jonathan perked up while M/n groaned. Consider everything restored, or at least it was, till Jonathan started talking and Danny yipped below them. 

“Hey! Why don’t you guys come up here and smoke with us?!” His call was loud and the god twitched, eyes narrowing as he watched their faces stiffen up to be cold and stony, only breaking their composure when their eyes left the noblemen and went to M/n. The sight of him was more than enough to make their stage whispers louder and more frantic.

“Do you see that?”

“Yeah, some weirdo is trying to talk to us.” 

“Let’s just go back the other way. This place is far too dangerous.” 

“The people here must be involved with the occult, or something of the sorts, and even if he doesn’t curse us, that other guy will clearly snitch on us.” 

“What did you say?” Jonathan snapped, leaping down from the branch, followed by the god in a similar manner to how a shadow follows its owner. "Wa...WAIT! What do you mean, dangerous? And who's a snitch?" 

M/n wanted to snarl as Jonathan got a good punch in, and the god moved to block a hit to the back of his head, using his stand's strength to make his shove just a little more aggressive. The yelp he earned was satisfying enough, he supposed. 

"Jojo the snitch and M/n the demon! Let's go! If we stick around here, he'll tell on us, or worse!" With that, they were gone and M/n paused at his new title. Demon? It was fair. He wasn't the kind type of person, was he? A ghost argued, but he had no desire to listen.  

"Demon...snitch?"

"Jonathan, just leave it."

"NO! Hey, come back! Who's a snitch? And where did you even come up with a demon in the first place? The two of us have done nothing wrong!"

"Jonathan, stop." The blue-haired male flinched at the venom laced into the god’s voice, even if it wasn't directed at him. Yet it was clear this was bothering M/n, and he couldn't blame him. Sure, he didn't go to church with them, but M/n was no devil worshiper. That was just a difference in religion. "Just...just leave it."

"But...this must be Dio spreading lies about us, and that boy that lost an eye. We could-"

"I know. But I'm tired. I don't want to spend my day chasing them down and yelling."

"You haven't been sleeping well?"

"Of course not. It's been over a month since I was in London too. I...I just need to rest."

Jonathan frowns, but accepts the lie.

-

The absence of my humanity is akin to a missing limb. No. It's not. But that's the best explanation I can hope to give.

-

When M/n takes off the bandages, it's a quiet affair.

Jonathan had been waiting for the other to send him out of the room, but he hadn't said a word as he untied the bandages covering his arm, revealing lines of black ink. He could feel his eyes widen at the spiky black lettering that covered the other's inner arms. Dio and Diavolo. He opened his mouth to ask about them, but stopped when the god then unwrapped the bandages on his neck, showcasing the large scar that covered his throat. 

"W-what caused that, M/n?"

"Eh, well, I was…actually, I don't remember." M/n murmured, his eyes narrowing as he traced over the massive scar with a single fingertip. His nails were almost unnaturally sharp and had a coating of black nail polish on them. Jonathan couldn’t help but freeze as M/n glanced over at him. "A knife? It must've been a blade...but what…it doesn't matter anymore, does it? I survived." 

"I don't understand how you could ever forget the origins of such a ghastly wound." He forced his voice to remain steady, only to then flinch at the sight of a massive scar on M/n's chest. "And…what about that one?"

"Layers of my skin were removed with…scalpels, and then a metal brand was pushed into the wound after being heated. Never quite healed right...is forgetting it really that strange? I was always focused on other things than old wounds." M/n shrugged his shoulders as he peeled back another thick layer of pink-tinted bandages. "At least I can finally take these stitches out." 

"Already?" It had only been a few days of M/n being in bed, completely miserable, and while he was glad to finally have a chance to show him around...it didn't make sense. 

"The wound's closed, and the stitches are already pushing out on their own. Might as well get them out manually. It...really itches." Jonathan swallowed, averting his gaze, as the other untied more of the bandages.  

-

You're a fool. Just telling the story over and over again and hoping that maybe this time you'll hear it and understand. One can't ward off a monster by just describing the shape of it. The woods might not give you back if you play the fool. Or maybe it will? But tradition demands the fool get skinned.

-

No one understands the true nature of gods. 

But it wasn't as if the god himself understood immortals. For he had entered a role with no mentors, or even instructions after killing his predecessor, and it wasn't as if the god had a good understanding of mortals, anyway. 

One, two, three. 

The god leaned back, feeling his skin shift and ripple under the bandages, trying to force the stitches out despite them being in place for only a few hours. His eyes opened, the gold had only formed around his pupils, despite the growing hunger pangs that made the god nearly start drooling. He shook his head. Looking around the room, he barely noted any decorations or features, instead his attention was stuck to the fading footsteps of a maid that had been cleaning the outside hall. 

…he was back to being completely alone.

Well, was he ever alone with the voices?

House Joestar, currently run by George Joestar, with Jonathan Joestar being heir apparent. A man widowed and unwilling to remarry, as his heart seemed to lie with the deceased. And it was that man who clearly stated that he'd be living here and that Sir Joestar clearly wanted to be something akin to a parental figure, but he had stopped caring about those kinds of bonds a long time ago. He had a father, and he didn't want nor need another, and now he was a god in everything but his own decision. Sides, one good parent was better than a thousand mediocre ones. He wanted to reread Hamlet. His hand trembled when he touched the thick layer of bandages on his throat. He should be smug, proud...annoyed even. But he didn't feel any of that. Emotions still were far too troublesome at the moment...as if they hadn't been real. Yet…that couldn’t be right. Back in the gang, he’d been absolutely…never mind.  

Leaning back, hands formed quickly, grabbing at his own, far larger than his own. Even if he hadn't been in a much younger body. He examined the pair of hands, blue and scaly, and he hummed at the feeling of them scraping against his skin. Then again, the long curved claws were just as sharp and at risk of tearing flesh. A long tail swung itself onto the bed, making its way into his view, and his tongue yet again caught the side of his own fang. Funny, most wounds had been forgotten with time, or rather with red vines and a lack of care, but the bisecting of his tongue felt far closer than most. The brass bells tied on its tail jingled softly. 

"I know you're hungry. I can't feed you yet...trust me, I would if such a thing was even possible right now." His voice came out as little more than a whisper as he leaned back. Feeling scales and fangs poking at him as well as the slight draw of the pocket. "You know I live only to create, right?" 

"All you make is echoes." The stand says that same old line. Not unkindly. Caring. 

"È l'unica cosa che so creare."

-

Gods aren't born...made, perhaps. Does it even matter? 

You were damned from the start

-

Dio examines the other. 

M/n is pointed and jagged, mainly wearing black clothing with a gothic aesthetic that only highlights how sharp he is compared to Jonathan, who seems more rounded. His gaze goes to M/n's arms, and he’s left staring at his own name and then Diavolo with a raised eyebrow. The other doesn't notice, too busy with his face hidden in a book about medicine despite Dio being sure that he doesn't even care about medicine, but then again M/n cares very little about most things. He wonders where he got such well done markings; he wonders why he would have tattoos of that nature, but he doubts he'd get an answer if he asked. Yet he knows how valuable this is. Having the devil's name on his arm would make the rumors that circulate around M/n so much stronger. He might even get banned from certain establishments, but that thought doesn't sit well in his mind. Especially since M/n wouldn't fight it. Just raise an eyebrow and let the world act around him. An unmovable object.

"M/n, how are you doing?" The other didn't look at him, instead leaning back in his seat and closing the book with a soft thud. 

"Fine, I suppose. What do you want, Dio?" Two E/c eyes landed on him, and part of him noticed the gold haze had faded to a few mere flecks, and then narrowed. His eyes seemed to glow in the dim lighting of the library, and Dio watched the other adjust his weight, almost casually.

"Do you really think I'm only here because I want something?"

"Didn’t you cheat on that boxing match and turn everyone against Jonathan? Why would I trust anything you have to say?" 

"You know why I'm doing this, don't you?"

"Does it matter if I know or not, Dio?"

"Of course it does." He reached out, taking the other's hand, watching him go still before accepting the gesture and linking his fingers with Dio's. "You and I are from the same background, are we not? Surely you can understand why I'm doing this. Besides, do you think Jonathan would spare you the time of day if you hadn't been offered a place here? He'd never know you. He wouldn't care." 

"So?"

"What do you-"

"That wouldn't be his fault. A man who never encounters me has no stake in my suffering. Jonathan is idealistic, I've said it all before, and yet I'll probably say it again; one can't count the sins of the father against the son, and vice versa." 

"You know I could-"

"Ruin me?" M/n laughed before he leaned in. "Go ahead. You can’t make me change my stance on this matter. And if you tell anyone about my tattoos, you might as well mention the third that goes down my spine. They are a set, after all. Dio, Diavolo, Giudizio. God, The Devil, and Judgement. Spin them however you like, but they don't have any pagan meaning. Especially not for worshiping the devil. All they do is talk about two paths and how those paths are chosen. That's all." 

"Surely you could have gotten different words to represent those concepts?" 

"Maybe, if I had a choice, but I received these a long time ago. I wasn't given any reason for them." Using his free hand, he traced over the lettering of 'Dio' with a fingertip, eyes narrowed in thought. "It's the same with all of my tattoos and scars. They happened for reasons that I was never informed of. Suffering without reason. So, tell everyone. I won't care." 

"With that attitude, it almost seems as if the rumors are true," Dio murmurs, ignoring the shivers racing down his spine. 

"I don't care about religion. Pagan. Christianity. Or any of them, if I'm being honest. I no longer have any reason to practice. Neither the Devil nor God have any appeal to me." The other shrugged, looking back at their interlocking hands. 

"And you won't stand with me? We could ruin them if we worked together. Jonathan wouldn't stand a chance if we just-"

"No. You're lucky that I don't tell Sir Joestar about your plot right now." 

"Is that it? What happens if I succeed, M/n?"

"I suppose I've made my grave and I'll lie in it. Or maybe…I should ask you how this story ends if you succeed?"

"You think I'll leave you behind?" 

"I think you'd try to cheat the devil out of his own money if given the chance. I worry about you." M/n sighed, placing his head in his hand with a low murmur that Dio couldn't quite pick up. "I swear I'm becoming....advocate Diaboli, ugh, I can't...why are you even making me think about this?"

"It'll be worth it." 

"Maybe for you."

-

I remember you saying that you wanted to be violent with me.

You're an...don't talk to me about safety. As if such a thing would be possible. As if I'd be able to get that. Fuck you for even suggesting it. 

"Oh, I just wish that you'd feel safe around me...that you'd be comfortable."

As if you really think I have any more blood to shed for you. Do you think I have anything left?

If I could scream out every apology, I owe both you and myself, which would take an eternity. I'd stand there and scream till my very neck split. How easy it is to fall. Simple. It feasts on you from the inside out. Slowly, the hunger stretches and stretches. It eclipses. You hunger. It hungers. How long till you fall? How long till you starve? Which runs out first? Who knows? I think I hate what I've become, but that would imply that I cared about the original. The story ends in hunger. 

…some things just aren't meant to be.

-

Jonathan looked to M/n, who’d been sitting under that tree since the boys left, seeming far too tired. 

"M/n...you and Danny will always be my friends, right?" Falling down onto the grass, he patted the aforementioned Great Dane on the head. M/n looked at him, his eyes more gold than E/c in the shadows of the tree. The gold had nearly overtaken him...strange. The color seemed to wane and grow with time. Maybe it was a seasonal thing? Or perhaps it had to do with the cycle of the moon? Or perhaps it was…

"Of course. I stand by you...my first friend." M/n murmured, eyes practically glowing...his pupils were more slit-like as well. The hiss in his words was also more prominent, a fact his father had grieved over in the past when the state of the other's tongue and scarred skin became known. M/n had just waved the concern away. He didn't plan on being a public speaker, so a slight lisp was fine, according to him. "Trust me, if I found you annoying, I would've said something already. We've had this talk before." 

"Yes, we have." His cheeks reddened at the reminder watching how he yawned, a flash of fang visible for just a moment, and then his attention was to a figure behind a tree on the path watching them. "Huh?"

"Is someone watching us?" M/n tilted his head, eyes narrowing once he spotted the figure. "Well, invite her over. True gentlemen, don't hesitate if a lady is waiting." 

"O-of course." With a jolt, he moved up the hill to approach her, only for her to hang a basket and take off. Pausing for a moment, he grabbed the basket, staring at her now distant figure in surprise. Shaking his head, he came back down to sit beside Danny and M/n once more. 

"Did she leave you that basket?" 

"I think so. Who was that girl staring at me? I feel like I've seen her before, but I can't quite place her." He examined the contents of the basket before gasping. "My handkerchief! It was the girl who had her doll taken...she must've cleaned it for me."

"How kind of her." M/n shifted, looking into the basket, remaining unaware of how Jonathan tensed when he leaned against him. "She wrote something on it. Now, is she asking something of you, or is it simply a thanks for helping?"

"It says; 'Many thanks! Say! I'll be here tomorrow, so why don't you come as well?'. I...I'm not sure what to think about the offer in all honesty."

"It sounds as if she's fallen for you. What a fairy tale situation; a kind gentleman saving the fair maiden and winning her heart. Poetic." M/n sounds pleased, yet Jonathan frowns despite himself. "If I remember correctly, she's from the Pendleton family. All doctors...hm, not a it. It's bad for dogs." 

"I guess...she is really cute, but she didn't say a word to me." He tried to keep his voice calm as he watched the other pull away, stretching out to his full extent like a cat in the sun. He yawned as Jonathan looked back down at the handkerchief. He felt conflicted at how the other seemed just fine with the idea of him...suddenly courting someone. Especially intending to marry that person…shouldn’t M/n be more opposed to it?

"Think she's shy?" 

"...maybe." 

"You must've left quite an impact on her." M/n said after a moment, rolling a grape in his palm. 

"I guess. I saved her the same day as...well, that was partly my fault." 

"No. Some bullies happened upon me and blamed me for an animal attack. You did nothing wrong. In fact, I would say you did pretty good. You saved a fair maiden." His voice is teasing, a raspy purr, as M/n nudges a shoulder against Jonathan's. He leans in. M/n is always boiling hot or ice cold to the touch. Today he's like a furnace. Eyes are full of gold until he blinks and Jonathan can see a hint of E/c beneath the haze. The god laughs. "You're a hero, Jonathan."

Despite everything, he can't stop the smile that appears on his face.

-

Every chicken egg I cracked open that day was filled with blood. Must've found an old stash again. I dumped them in the garden. Plants love that kind of thing. Horrible noises echoed from the woods. Most noises like that come from the woods. It sounded like someone screaming. Wailing. Terrified. Warped. It was a fox. I lifted the bat. It was mangy. Infected. Fur matted with blood and maggots. My daily shower was earlier that day. Much longer. Hotter.

I can still hear it sometimes.

Calling me back.

-

"M/n, there you are!" 

He stiffened, and had he been in his real form, his hair would've spiked up, yet he didn't move his gaze from the woods below. 

"You aren't even going to look at me?"

"Sorry, I'm just distracted." Dio raised an eyebrow at that. After a moment he followed M/n’s gaze, but he spotted nothing out of the ordinary. 

"Hm, and what's got your mind so cluttered? Usually you're buried in a book or following Jonathan like a tame dog." The soft growl he receives is almost comical…if only M/n would look at him. "You know, I've heard rumors that Jonathan's been running around with some country girl. I suppose you've been tossed aside like an old coat in favor of this girl, haven't you?" 

"No, in fact, I encouraged him to court her." 

"Really?" 

"Of course, Jonathan's my friend. Why wouldn't I support him having a happy ending? A fairy tale ending fits a man with a noble spirit, and I'd like to be an uncle or godfather in the future if permitted" 

"Oh, you don't want to be a father yourself?"

"Doubt I'd be a good one. Being the eccentric type that can come in now and then would suit me much better. Besides, I mentioned it to Sir Joestar, and he liked the idea of the pairing." 

"You seem content with it, but you haven't told me this maiden's name. Is there a reason you don't want to tell me, or has it merely slipped your mind?"

"You don't tell the fae your name, you don't make a deal with the devil, and by following that train of logic, I shouldn't give you any info that would hurt Jonathan or the maiden in question. Don't waste my time by continuing this line of questioning, Dio."

"Fine. Still, I can't believe you have such a bad impression of me. But let me ask you this; how did you do it?" 

"Be more specific."

"You stopped me from kicking that mutt, and that one kid lost an eye right after he came across you. How are you doing it?" 

"All I did was grab your shoulder, Dio, and I still don't understand why that kid blamed me for what was obviously a wild animal. My nails may be long, but they clearly aren't claws or talons, and while I can admit I have a pocket knife on me for safety, there's no way anyone could make three massive wounds appear on someone's face with a simple dagger. Let alone three wounds, like he claimed. No matter how you phrase it, there's no way I could've caused those wounds."

"Yet it happened right after he ran into you? I heard that he and Jonathan had gotten into a spat before he encountered you, but how could you have known that beforehand?"

"I couldn't. That's the point." 

"But you don't seem surprised."

"I found that piece of info out when he accused me of injuring him. I didn't know beforehand. All I knew was that he accosted me for no reason and then left with his friend."

"And the two of them blamed it on you." 

"For one reason or another." M/n yawned, eyes closing for a moment before he once again looked out to the woods. Tapping a nail against the railing of the balcony in quick repetition, the god sighed when Dio moved closer. He was getting too close. Far too close. "Now, do you need anything else?"

"Why wait for Jonathan to come back? You can come with me and my friends, have some fun, and put aside those rumors circulating about you. It would be good for you."

"I have no desire to meet your 'friends', Dio." 

"Fine, fine." He leaned against the god who wanted to snap when he felt the Dio brush up against him. "Then why don't I stay with you for a little while?" 

M/n swallowed as he felt the male grab his hand and intertwine their fingers. 

"...fine.”

-

You go in search of your reflection. You find it and then strangle them to death. The corpse is so heavy. You bury them in your backyard and your hands smell like fresh soil and guilt. Yet they come back in the evening. You kill them again and in their place, there is another surge of anger. Louder and louder upon your return. Resurrection becomes a monument to your suffering. Your reflection becomes a ghost, a creature that holds so many untouched memories and griefs. It shrieks at your door. You kill them again and again. And you make more graves and hear more ghosts. Kill them seven times and there are seven ghosts. Fifteen times and there are fifteen. Again and again. Fresh soil and guilt. You can search for a limit because you expect one. You find none. There is no limit to the amount of deaths a body can hold.

-

A few years ago, Jonathan took him into the woods. 

His bandages had come off less than a week ago, and as a hand holds his own and drags him into the woods, all he can think is; why? He had said little to Jonathan, all things considered. He doesn't speak much. His vocal cords, like the rest of him, were far too strained from eons of silence and slumber. He had practiced talking constantly when no one was around, and he was proud that his lungs had put up with him, but even now he could feel the strain and taste ichor in the back of his throat. A part of him knows how bad all of that is, but he could never change it. 

How does one change their nature after eons of simple repeated behavior? 

One man can't just change the flow of a river by asking, and one can't deny a fox the right to bear his fangs when threatened. He could probably play a fox better than a human. He noticed it in all of his motions. He rarely smiled, yet his teeth were visible when he threatened or was angry, but he rarely did more than hum when amused or pleased by the surrounding people. A long time ago, he wouldn't have all these problems. He'd just do it right with ease because he was human, but traits like that felt so long lost that it might as well not exist. Carlos would help, Jessie would mock, and Ajamu found the whole thing amusing. Whispers intermingle with the world around them. 

He looks for animals and other sources of the noises that surround him. His head hurts. The world is noisier than he remembers it ever being, and part of him wants to laugh because he was from the future and he knew how noisy the world could be, but the void is far quieter. Too quiet. Noise is always a bad thing in the void, but here, noise is the norm and he needs to work with it. 

"Come on!"

There's a river. He remembers drowning in the past, frequently, and he remembers guys named after bodies of water who had dark eyes that caught him in place. Is this yet another baptism? He hummed as he tossed his shirt and shoes off alongside Jonathan, allowing himself to be pulled in the water. It was cool, but not unbearable. Even for a snake like him. The water flowed with ease and he felt a sense of joy as Jonathan splashed him with water.

It was fun...until it wasn't.

-

My throat has become a canyon with every apology caught in the depths, never leaving my throat. So I suppose this is an apology echoed throughout a lifetime. Of words. Of sentences. Of actions. I'm sorry for being so...loud. For taking up all this space. For being so sensitive and soft. If I was to see your anger from a different angle, a new perspective, then I'd be in your corner egging it on. So I guess I should apologize for poking the bear. For letting the snake into my home and expecting something else. A different end. For thinking that gentleness could change its nature. As a child, I always hoped that I could change the night sky and make it a loving father. Then again, maybe there's no hope for the night sky. 

-

With a wince, he pulled his hand back, Jonathan's eyes widening at the sight of blood staining his fingertips.

Oh, guess he clipped his head on one of the rocks. 

He opened his mouth as he watched M/n stiffen up, eyes almost completely gold, before whipping around to stare at him with an emotion that Jonathan couldn't quite place. Jonathan suddenly found himself pinned against a rock on the bank of the river. M/n holding him down, but there was something else, a second pair of invisible hands pressing his shoulders down. There was something else looming over him, a form that was acting the same as M/n, and he didn't know what it was. He couldn’t see it.

"M/n...are you okay?"

"I...I…" Hands dug into his side. He never realized how sharp the other's nails were till now, and M/n opened his mouth but said nothing. His shoulders were bleeding from the second set of hands. Long clawed furrows in his flesh.

"Calm down. I'm fine, M/n. It's just a small cut." Part of him can register that M/n is straddling his hips. He can feel the male's knees shift, pressing into his stomach, as he leans forward. Eyes focused only on the blood dripping down his neck and mixing with the water still clinging to his skin. "M/n, just calm down." 

The air feels thicker.

"M/n...?"

Everything feels...brighter, fuller even, and he sees the other's eyes get even wider as the second set of hands let go of him. M/n nearly pushes himself off of Jonathan's lap before he reaches out and holds the other in place. M/n shakes. He can see the way the male shakes, yet it feels far too...off. M/n doesn't shake. He hasn't known the other long, but he didn't seem the type to falter.

"...are you...?" He felt something smash against his lips, forcing his mouth open, and he tasted something far too sweet...and...and...

…and his vision is getting foggy. 

"Jonathan...I'm sorry. You trust me, right? I'm...I'm...Amicus certus in re incerta...right?"

With that everything goes black. 

-

If you follow any love story long enough, you'll find a single truth; someone will die first. Please baby, I'm so tired. Let's speed up the process. You know how much I hate waiting for the story to progress. Here's the chapter where I threaten to eat you. To devour. To show my fangs and to prove to you. I'm a snake. Here's where I fall to my knees and admit to you I can't. I don't have the stomach for it. For a while, I pondered. All those organs sit in the porch freezer. My heart...my lungs...my everything. To make my body hollow for you to move in. Follow any love story long enough, then someone will leave first. You pick up the book. Naturally, it's called 'The Kiss' or something of that nature. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of papers all made to describe one moment. A gesture. That one starry night. That bridge when they meet as they look up to the sky. You close the book with no resolution. Not that a kiss ever ends. Only the failings of an author who can't find the words that would make the immensity of their desire justified instead of depraved. 

-

Lies flow easily. 

A wild animal came out and attacked Jonathan. He hit his head. M/n grabbed him and got him away by using a dagger to slay the feral mutt. 

…too easy. 

He sat across from Jonathan repeating a simple pattern; count down to one hundred, take a deep breath, and restart the whole thing again. He could've sworn that this trick worked, but he still felt conflicted on the matter. He grabbed the hand mirror resting on the boy's bedside table and examined his facial features. His eyes were still mostly gold, but at least you'd be able to tell that they were supposed to be E/c, and not the full golden haze. That wild dog hadn't helped much, if at all, but the smell of his blood had sent it into a frenzy, so at least it hadn't been a tame dog that had been slaughtered just to make the lie work. Not that much had been left. As he dragged Jonathan back to the manor, his stand had taken care of the body. 

Scavengers. 

Likely other dogs, according to Sir Joestar. 

He pondered what expression would fall on Sir if he found out the truth. Horror...terror...shame...disgust? He couldn't picture it, couldn't even imagine the kind man's face morphing into some twisted version of itself. Then again, even the kindest would surely fear the appearance his stand possessed. Even Ajamu had flinched back from it when his stand had first attacked the god, so that spoke of him, given how it was a mirror of himself. 

"Why am I even thinking about that right now?" Leaning back, he set the mirror down and looked at Jonathan’s prone form. "You should've never invited me out today."

'...you won't even remember what happened, so why am I acting like this?'

It doesn't matter.

Why would it?

-

There is no mercy in these texts. How does one explain how something so inherently simple can be so bad? So hurtful. Harmful. A thing that can kill. No one here knows. They laugh. Laugh with them. You aren't ready to talk. What's wrong with you? Don't tell them. Laugh it off. If one would look in your eyes, they'd see the same level of terror found in a sheep before the pack of wolves. You can tell me anything. Lies. People leave bloody for secrets like this. Hands like silk and voices like honey. No pity. Just concern. Prevents you from falling. Pick you up. Drink. Slips from your fingers like sand in the wind. Lies. Lies. Lies.

-

"Are you alright?" He jumped, slightly looking over at M/n, who was now sitting by the bedside table with a raised eyebrow. 

"Oh, it's nothing too bad. I'm more upset about the constant headache." He kept his voice light as the other carefully crossed a leg. M/n was looking at where the bandages covered his shoulders, something that would be visible if he wasn't wearing a shirt, and just nodded without any change of expression. "I woke up three days ago…did they tell you not to be here till today?" 

"No." Jonathan flinched at that, watching the other stand up, but his request for the other to stay died on his tongue as M/n simply crossed the room, pulling open the curtains and window before he sat back down. "I waited because I wanted to wait." 

"Why?"

"It's my fault you got hurt." M/n spoke calmly, his voice completely detached, as he stared down at his lap. Following his gaze, Jonathan looked at the male's hands, which had gone pale from how tightly he was holding onto the fabric of his pants. "You wanted to go out to show me around, and that's why this whole affair happened." 

"What?" Jonathan shook his head, hardly believing the other, but when he looked back up, all M/n did was stare back. Blank. Even after getting out of surgery and being hit by a carriage, M/n had shown emotion, granted most of it was negative, but there had been something. Now he just seemed empty. "That wasn't your fault!"

"Can't you see I'm a bad luck magnet?"

"I don't care!" He reached out, causing M/n to freeze as he took the male's hands in his own. Today his skin was ice cold, and the action earned him a confused hiss as M/n flinched, nearly pulling back but stopping halfway and instead just slumping down. 

"You won’t change your mind?"

"Of course not." 

"I'm not good luck, and I'm sure there's better company."

"Then I'll be cursed."

"...soft-hearted fool." M/n hissed with no actual venom. Jonathan froze...he remembered...M/n on his lap. Why? It must've been to check his head wound and make sure he didn't drown. So what happened after that? Vaguely he could see M/n raise an eyebrow, but he just stayed silent as the realization hit him. M/n...had kissed him? But why would he do that? They were both...there wasn't any reason for that...who even...Jonathan shook his head again, trying to ignore how hot his face was. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Um...no reason!"

Everything after that was lost in a sweet pink haze...he must’ve imagined it.

-

There are plenty of memories that will never leave your frame. Stuck like salt in the sea. A fly in the web of a spider. Becoming part of you. Pieces of a framework that frames your body. Souls get trampled out when they're too weak. Make the framework out of bone and iron. Make a monster so no one dares to fight. But monsters get slain. Make it a better monster. Be too strong to kill. Things like that would make a good monster. You're a good kid, right? You can do this. It isn't hard. Just take it. Let it happen. You can do it. 

…you're a good kid, right?

-

"I'll see you soon, bye!"

Dio stilled as he watched the girl wave to Jojo, carefully hiking up the edge of her dress to avoid dirtying it as she crossed the manor's yard to reach the path. Oh, so it was just the country girl? His hand rested on the trunk of the tree and he paused, noticing the carvings in the bark. He had carved his and that girl's name...Erina…and it seemed as if even before that M/n had carved his own name in the wood, judging by the thinner and more elegant cuts that spelled out his name. His fingers traced over the crooked heart before settling on M/n's name. 

What an interesting situation...placed right at his feet.

-

All of those hens lay completely still in the chicken coop. Feathers sprawled out like flower petals in a weapon...here comes the bride. I am twelve. My heart and mind are made up of far messier deaths than this. Oh, there's the groom. A rooster. Standing. Waiting for me...I guess. Eyes wide. Neck ripped open and filled with stained maggots. How is he still breathing? How do I fit something like this into an essay? A poem? How do I fit this one little event into anything? My hands were covered in small cuts from the chicken wire. Predators don't care. But I guess I can't blame them. I don't remember the state of my hands more than not. Hands like mine are defined by labor...loss...and grief. In the country, an image wouldn't load from poor connection. I guess the image forgets it's an image.

…did I somehow miss something that would've given all this pain context?

-

"Hm, Jojo and Danny train hard." Dio murmured, placing his teacup down watching his caretaker do the same, he never understood why M/n insisted with calling the man Sir Joestar when he'd allow the use of his name, but that led to his gaze moving from his 'rival' to the figure sitting on the grass below. Watching Jonathan, like always. "The dog seems to get along with both of them very well."

"Yes, Jojo and M/n have done well teaching them every trick they can think of. He can open most doors and has even learned how to pull out small fires. But I suppose that's the thing," George replied, following Dio's gaze. "The two of them never give Danny orders. They've earned his friendship and trust."

"Friendship...with a dog?" Despite his best attempts, Dio couldn't keep the skepticism out of his voice. Luckily, the other didn't call him out on it. 

"I think it's how Jonathan makes up for his loss, and I think M/n has a soft spot for Danny, even if he'd never admit it. I bought that dog when my son was five years old...when I first brought him here, Danny was afraid of any new people or locations. Because of that, when Danny and Jojo first met, he bit his arm. He started teasing Danny, but things like that were probably unavoidable for a young boy. There was even a time where he'd throw small rocks at Danny, but then one day at the river behind the mansion Jojo was drowning. No one else was nearby to hear him or help him. This was before M/n had his fateful encounter that led him here, but then a shadow appeared. Despite having no reason for loyalty or duty, Danny came to rescue him the moment he heard Jojo's cries. Isn't he a splendid dog, knowing the value of life? It was that incident that moved Jojo and made him form a fast friendship with Danny."

Dio nodded, watching the dog do a lap around the yard before tackling M/n, earning a panicked apology as Jojo ran over to check his friend, and he forced himself not to sneer at the action. Especially when M/n burst into shaky laughter.

"And what of M/n?"

"Hm, I thought he had explained to you how he arrived at the manor and came to live here?"

"He did, but I'd like to hear it from an outside party, and I'd like to know your opinion about him."

"M/n is a good kid." George says it as if he's had to explain himself far too many times. "He's just...a bit too smart for his age and it leaves people uncomfortable. He's had a hard life."

"But so many incidents seem to follow him," Dio remarks, gently as to not anger the older man.

"True, but I'm more inclined to blame animal attacks on the environment we live in rather than a child. Besides, if he was the beast supposedly causing all those incidents, then Jonathan wouldn't be alive today."

"What do you mean by that?" Dio had heard of the boy who'd lost an eye after a run in with M/n, and as time had gone by more of his peers blamed the other for what actually was a wild animal, that much was obvious, but he hadn't heard about this.

"Not long after M/n recovered Jonathan took him to that same river to show him the manor grounds and have fun...a wild dog attacked Jonathan tearing into his shoulders and knocking his head against a rock...M/n keeps a dagger on his person at all times and slayed the beast before dragging Jonathan as far as he could go and then went to get help."

Dio looked back down at Jojo and M/n with narrowed eyes. 

-

To compare our paths would be a disservice to myself. I'm tired. I'm bitter. But I think that would be a bit too spiteful even for me.

-

"I swear...all these medical books are so outdated. I need to see if there are better ones available to add to the library next time I get my allowance."

"Really? How so?" 

"Most of these books actually suggest things like using leeches and bloodletting, as if using a parasite would actually benefit their health. Idiots, all of them." At that Jonathan nodded, despite himself not fully understanding the problem behind the use of leeches or even bloodletting, but he supposed that was based on the knowledge he clearly lacked. 

"So if the procedure is ever offered, I should decline?" 

"Of course, but then again, I'd decline in your stead if you didn't." M/n murmured, pausing when he looked past Jonathan, his eyebrows arching at the action. Turning, Jonathan felt a small smile form on his face when he saw Erina standing there, but she turned away before he could say anything. Then she sprinted away.

'Erina…? What's wrong? Her behavior's completely different...something must have happened.'

"Wait, Erina! What's wrong!?!" 

"Did you..." He watched as M/n trailed off, feeling off kilter at her strange behavior before he noticed a dawning look of horror on the other's face. M/n clearly knew what happened, but whatever it seemed terrible to think about. Only for both of them to flinch at the feeling of rocks bouncing off their backs. He registered M/n hissing under his breath as he spun to see some of Dio's…'friends' laughing at them. 

"Look at that loser! Hey Jojo, you want to know why she's acting like that? We'll tell you."

"Aw, I don't wanna see him get all sad!"

"You...you guys....what did you do to Erina!?!"

"Jonathan," M/n hissed, stepping forward and placing an arm on his shoulder. "We all know these cowards don't have the balls to do anything. So what did Dio do?”

-

Many have tried to catch me. All failed. At this point in time, I'm little more than a ghost of a ghost. Call me nothing but a magic trick. Every day I see the world and laugh. How fun this is. You can't catch me. You won't see me. There is god in me. Can you feel him laughing? Life and death are old friends of mine. So, what else is there to be afraid of? I know the rules of the world.

-

'He can't even wait for me?' 

Mentally M/n cursed a lot of things as he forced himself to keep up with Jonathan, while also following the others' rushed path, even as Jonathan allowed branches to scrape his skin or stumbled. He really needed to calm down before he ended up hurting Dio, or even worse, Jonathan or Sir Joestar himself. Yet no matter how hard he tried, none of his usual methods were working. If he looked behind himself, he could see the clawed furrows left in his footprints by his stand bubbling up to the surface. He knew that if another stand user was in the area, they'd see the larger form wrapped around him like a thin, nearly see-through, armor.

Ugh, his anger was always holding him back, but it pushed him forward at the same time. 

Infuriating.

M/n forced himself to jump over the fountain, hissing as he landed, the scars around his ankles always stung when he landed weirdly and this time wasn't any different, but he really needed to get in the manor and stop whatever Dio had planned. He was certain that the other had been waiting for Jonathan to find out, because Jonathan always blazed when he was angry.

"DIO!!!" He pushed the doors open, leaning against them with narrowed eyes as he watched how Dio stood up, putting his book down. 

"And what's this? You're taking my name in vain? And with those firmly clenched fists...I wonder, what exactly could you be planning?"

"I won't forgive you for this! You've been against me ever since you arrived here, and I know you don't care about what happens to me, but you've gone too far!"

"What are you even-Aha! I guess you finally heard about your beloved Erina, and now you're thinking of paying me back with your fists, aren't you? Shame on you Jojo, jealousy is such an ugly thing. Wouldn't you agree with me, M/n?" All he did was raise an eyebrow at the idiotic question.

"I won't forgive you for insulting her!" And with that Jonathan lunged...somehow showcasing the burning anger of a star in its final moments, all while lacking any sort of strategy to better fight an opponent like Dio. Surely he had noticed it in their boxing match...right? Jonathan had raw strength while Dio had speed and agility. A grizzly bear to a mountain lion. A fight like this wasn't balanced if he didn't alter his strategy...but this wasn't his fight. Jonathan had to fight his own battles, especially the ones he rushed into without thinking. He ran his fingers over the side of the wall, slowly crossing the room as his gaze remained on the pair. He didn't look away when Dio broke Jonathan's nose, but he felt the tile beneath his heel crack at the additional slight. "Ah!"

"Just back down. Do you really want me to do the same thing to you again? You fool..."

"I...I can't beat him..." Jonathan raised a hand to his nose, feeling warm blood and wincing at the throbbing pain. His eyes darted to M/n, who had merely prowled along the walls like a stalking cat. He didn't blame him. M/n wouldn't step in unless he truly needed the help, and even then it felt wrong knowing how much the other hoped to avoid conflict. '...but...I can't lose this...if I lose this fight, I'll have to stay in Dio's shadow for the rest of my life! I have to win this fight for Erina's honor! For M/n who's placed his faith in me.'

'So he hasn't heard his lesson? Fine. I'll beat him down once and for all. I'll even do it fair and square. I'll teach him so his whole body remembers that he can't hope to stand against Dio...in a fight or in life!' Dio tilted his head, his gaze moving to M/n's silent figure. 'But as for him...what is he thinking? He doesn't look angry, just impassive. Once this is over, I'll speak with him and surely convince him once and for all.' 

…the god tilted his head, angry but unwilling, or perhaps unable, to explain why. 

-

A long time ago, we were all tossed in a pit. Like most things, it had ill intentions. We were to end each other. So no one else would have to do such a grizzly task. Starved of space. Well, it wasn't a surprise that we turned against each other. With hunger like mine...we had to eat each other to survive. Look up. Look up. Look up. At the top of this pit. How does one win when the real threat is too big to face all alone?

-

Dio leaned against the railing of the bridge and pressed a finger to his temple, wincing both at the pain, and then at the realization that his skin was going to be bruised for the next few days. At least no one would side with Jonathan over the incident and the fight was luckily cut short before he went too far and lost his place in the household. Even if this incident made him want to kill the heir, he knew that stabbing him in a public space would ruin everything he had worked for. No, despite how angry he was, the original plan would work out far better than any violent assault he could commit. Just drive everyone away and watch Jojo slowly go insane from isolation. All he had to do was get M/n away from him, but then again, he didn't know what to do with M/n. He hadn't stopped him from breaking Jonathan's nose, yet he hadn't confronted him about their boxing match, either. M/n was hard to read at the best of times, and at the worst of times, he was downright impossible.

"Why did you do that?" Dio whipped his head around and forced down any surprise at the sight of M/n's lean frame, sitting on the bridge's railing, and once again he couldn't get a proper read on the other's expression.

"You mean kiss Erina? If so, then I think we both know the reason for it." 

"Why did you find that necessary?"

"You already know the reason." 

"I do, but I want to hear you say it."

"Then I'll have to disappoint you." Dio twitched when he heard what sounded like a hiss and metal being forcibly bent, yet other than tilting his head M/n hadn't done anything. "Why do you care so much? Is it because you told Jonathan to court her?" 

"Is that really the only reason I'd care about it?" 

"I can't speak for you."

"Okay, then let me ask you; why do you think I find your actions so reprehensible? Why would someone take a violation on someone they barely know so personally? Why do I hate being touched by people without permission? Why am I so angry? You're smart enough to figure it out, so tell me what you think my problem is, Dio."

"You were..." Dio froze, watching M/n raise an eyebrow before smirking.

"And there we go." 

"When?"

"Doesn't matter, all you need to know is that it happened, and he went a lot further than you did with Erina." Sliding off the post, M/n walked in front of him and crossed his arms. "So I find your actions sickening on a personal level and on a moral one, and you're lucky I haven't repeated history by breaking your bones with a bat."

"Who...he…?"

"Yeah, and if you ever do that again, then I'll kill you myself." The railing next to him snapped into pieces, and Dio staggered back, looking towards the metal pieces falling into the water below while M/n moved past him. "And unlike Jonathan, I won't miss that knife you keep hidden. Understood?"

"Please, fear isn't in my vocabulary." 

"Maybe so, but it’s in your eyes." 

"So you want me to apologize?"

"I'd have an easier time convincing you to pull out your own teeth, and we both know it. Leave Erina out of your plans and do nothing like this again."