Work Text:
Sunday 10:00 am, he was sitting in a cafe, staring at his laptop screen. A coffee which he ordered merely to feel allowed to idle in the shop sat cold on the table. The computer screen had an opened document, an unfinished essay, with only the title present: “The Influence of Horses on Modern Day Transportation” by Johnny Joestar.
This table, tucked near the corner of the small coffee shop was occupied by Johnny at this time every Sunday. It was a routine. He recognized all the baristas who worked this shift, and they knew him as “that college student in a wheelchair who sits here for a couple hours in silence”. They were so used to his presence that he was practically invisible to them as they talked about their lives, waiting for customers to stop by. This particular coffee shop barely got business, especially on a Sunday morning, which is why Johnny liked coming; whether he got work done or not.
He stared blankly at the empty page, feeling it’s urge to be filled with his typing. The silence in the air practically begged for him to start typing, but inspiration was absent. It has been absent for a long time. Johnny leaned against his hand and closed his eyes, wishing to fall into a daydream only to wake up to a burst of motivation and his paper would seemingly write itself.
But instead of dreaming about horses and their influences on society, he was jolted awake by the chime of the door opening, and one of the baristas greeted the new customer.
No longer wanting to feel the existential dread that came with unfinished work, he decided to shift his focus on the customer that came in.
The door swung open with such aggression, Johnny was surprised it didn’t fly off. The man stumbled a bit, as if he was still drunk from a night partying. Johnny surveyed the man’s long, dishevelled hair, strange beard, and overall unkempt appearance, wondering if this guy was actually homeless. The man, who almost fell face flat by simply underestimating the weight of the door, smiled and chuckled to himself as he gained his balance. Johnny swore he saw something gold sparkling when he smiled, but he passed it off as the lighting.
The man approached the counter, Johnny took interest in the emotions the barista was showing. While the particular shop didn't get many customers, Johnny had been around to witness his fair share of crackheads and homeless people, under the influence of some substances, wander in and demand the employees for free food. The barista looked a bit nervous, which makes sense as the unknown customer towered over her and looked like that . But thankfully, the man softly started reciting his order. Johnny would have paid attention to what this guy was ordering, but was more confused by the baristas reaction when he gave her his name.
“Gyro."
The barista looked suspiciously at the man who was named Gyro. The name wasn't that odd, Johnny thought. Being a barista she must have had her fair share of preteens telling her their names were something ridiculous, then why was she so interested in this guy? As she made his over complicated drink, she whispered to the other barista, who responded by shaking her head. Meanwhile, Gyro leaned up against the wall, closing his eyes and humming a familiar tune.
Johnny used this opportunity to really inspect this man. He was wearing dark sunglasses, despite being indoors. His hair was long, and if it didn’t look like he hadn't washed it for weeks, it would actually be really pretty. He also had an unkempt beard, growing out in a strange way as if he shaved only bits of it at a time. Even stranger, his lips were painted a bright neon green. Who wears neon green lipstick?
Gyro took his coffee from the barista, taking a sip. He opened his mouth in a scowl, and Johnny finally realized that this man had full golden grills. Before he could process this, Gyro started shouting.
“HEY! I THOUGHT I ORDERED SOY MILK? I CAN PRACTICALLY TASTE THE COW!”
He moved closer to the counter, pointing a finger at the barista who was not being paid enough to tolerate it.
“Don’t you know who I am??” The barista apologized and started to remake his drink. Johnny physically cringed at what he was witnessing. What an asshole.
After confirming that his new drink was correct, Gyro turned and started walking towards Johnny’s table.
This was where the panic started. Johnny frantically diverted his gaze, worried Gyro caught him staring and came over to teach him a lesson. He grabbed his cold coffee and pretended to be focused on the laptop in front of him.
But instead of stopping at his table, Gyro continued past and stopped at the counter behind Johnny, in order to get a lid for his coffee. All the tension built up was released, and Johnny calmed down, he was just getting his coffee lid, not coming over to shout at you.
Gyro, after getting what was needed from the counter, turned to leave while humming that strange tune. And while he was distracted, he ran directly into Johnny’s wheelchair.
Johnny jerked forward, spilling his coffee all over the laptop. The pair watched liquid seeped into the keys, and Johnny swore he saw something spark. The screen that had once held his empty paper flickered and turned black.
Johnny couldn't believe what he was seeing. After what felt an eternity of just staring at the overturned cup, and his laptop that would definitely never work again, he broke the silence. “What the fuck, man?”
In this situation, you would think the culprit would apologize and offer to pay for the damages they caused. But instead, the man named Gyro took this opportunity to show off how much of a public nuisance he could be.
Gyro, towering over the man in the wheelchair, did not hold back. “What do you mean, ‘What the fuck?’ It’s not my fault you parked yourself near where people need to walk. I’m not paying for that shit. Good luck on your paper about horses or whatever it said.”
Johnny couldn't fathom what this man was saying, and he swore he saw the barista behind the counter run to the phone as if she expected things to get violent.
“I’m sorry, WHAT? You ran into ME!” Johnny was seething with anger. He could not even comprehend the idea of affording a new laptop. He was going to get the money out of this guy one way or another.
Gyro didn’t even argue anymore, he was already moving towards the door to make an escape, but Johnny wheeled past him, blocking his exit.
“Dude, leave me alone. I’m sorry about your laptop, but I have the worst hangover and I don’t want to deal with anything this morning.”
“Have to deal with anything? This was your fault! At least give me some cash so I can repair it!”
Gyro sighed, taking another sip from his coffee, tilting his sunglasses down to reveal eyes of the same colour and vibrance of his lipstick. “You know what, you’re right. I can do charity work, it would look good for the press.”
Before Johnny could get mad about calling his case “charity work”, Gyro has already whipped out his wallet and started fanning through it.
“Oh shit…” Gyro made a face at his wallet and flipped it closed. “Sorry man, I just used the last bit of my cash.”
Johnny wasn't going to accept that as an answer. “Well? Got a chequebook or something? I’m not letting you leave here without helping me.”
It was true he was blocking Gyro’s path, but he could easily backtrack and go around him. So he prayed Gyro was too hungover to notice.
“Ugh… man. Why don’t you come back with me to my apartment? It’s only a few blocks away. I'll write you a cheque there.”
While Johnny would normally second guess an invitation to a stranger’s apartment, he knew this would be his only chance to get money out of this guy.
“Fine. But you better not be a murderer or something.”
Gyro laughed strangely, his golden teeth sparkling in the fluorescent lights of the cafe. He took his glasses off and bent down close to Johnny’s face. Bearing a wild grin, Johnny could make out letters on his grills. “GO GO ZEPPELI”.
“I’m a trustworthy guy, I promise. Don’t you recognize me?”
--
Gyro Zeppeli.
Or rather, Julius Caesar Zeppeli. 24. Famous actor, easily recognized by his shampoo-commercial wonder of hair, favour towards golden grills, and interesting designs with his beard. His most famous roles center around western and cowboy movies, but recently he starred as Indiana Jones in a terrible remake of “Raiders of the Lost Ark”. The movie was a flop, it was obviously a quick crash grab for the studio. Nonetheless, it was extremely popular with the youth for the sheer presence of Julius Caesar Zeppeli.
Tired from acting and fame, he stopped taking care of his appearance to avoid being recognized, and moved to a small apartment in San Diego. While he may try to keep a low profile, he was prone to throwing wild parties, inviting all of his famous buddies.
--
“Here we are!” Gyro unlocked his apartment door, holding it open for Johnny to roll inside.
It looked like a hurricane had swept through. Johnny was originally taken aback by the apartment building, for how upper class it was. But now he was actually inside Gyro’s apartment, he was starting to regret his decision. Beer cans were littered throughout, a couple empty pizza boxes, and someone was passed out on the floor in front of the couch which sat against the far wall, a blanket with dinosaur print covering him.
Normally, when welcoming a guest to a house of this manner, you might apologize or give excuses such as “Sorry, I wasn't expecting guests.” But Gyro simply walked through the mess, avoiding stepping on any trash or the person laying on the floor, opening one of the pizza boxes and taking a slice, holding it out to Johnny.
“Want one? It’s from last night, but it’s still good.”
Johnny shook his head.
Gyro shrugged and took a bite. “Come here, if you can manage to wheel your way over. Or not, I’ll bring the cheque to you.”
Johnny tried his best to make it through the litter covered carpet, managing to follow Gyro and curiously look at the guy sleeping on the floor. As he looked more around the apartment, he noticed an absurd amount of movie posters and merchandise. He wondered why Gyro would love westerns so much, or that terrible remake of Indian Jones he heard about. He never even went to see it, the reviews were so bad. It wasn't even a movie that was “so bad it’s good”, it was just plain boring.
He followed Gyro into a fancy office, which was equally trashed, and watched as he started digging around in the drawers.
And that’s when Johnny saw the trophy cabinet. “No way. Is that a Golden Globe?” Gyro looked up as Johnny moved closed to the cabinet. “Awarded to….. Julius Caesar Zeppeli?”
Gyro grinned, flashing his golden teeth again. “Dude, I told you!”
Johnny didn’t know how to feel. This guy was claiming to be Julius Caesar Zeppeli, the famous actor, the whole trip to his apartment. He started to drone him out, believing he was just a crazed fan or was still a bit drunk from his party last night.
The resemblance was barely there, as Johnny looked closely at the various movie posters dawning his face and back to the man shuffling through desk drawers in front of him. Okay, maybe it was him. Why was he in San Diego, looking like a homeless man?
“Ah-hah!” Gyro waved the chequebook for Johnny to see. “How much?”
Johnny named a price and Gyro wrote it with no argument. Maybe he should have asked for more, apparently being a famous actor and all.
“If you are the Julius Caesar Zeppeli, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be working on a movie or something?”
Gyro frowned as he thought of the answer, as he ripped the cheque out of the book. He collapsed into the desk chair, waving the cheque in front of his face.
“I don’t like being recognized, and I’m kinda tired of the actor’s life. Maybe I want to move to a different profession…”
Johnny, having nowhere to go without that cheque, decided to make conversation. “Like what?”
Gyro spun in the chair. “... a doctor”
Johnny burst out laughing. “You? A doctor? You give off the exact opposite vibes of someone who would want to be a doctor.”
A little hurt from that comment, Gyro flipped the question back onto him. “You were the one writing a paper about horses at that cafe. What are you trying to do that requires an essay about horses?”
Johnny looked down, now a bit embarrassed. “That paper was just for one of my classes. But… I want to be a sports commentator.”
Gyro smirked. “A sports commentator? Buddy, no offence,” He looked suspiciously at the wheelchair. “What sports are you playing?”
Johnny felt anger rise at the back of his throat, but he swallowed it. He didn’t want to make Gyro angry, and then never getting that cheque he was promised.
“None right now. I used to be a jockey, but I got into an accident.” He gestured towards his legs. “That’s all the information I’m willing to share. Now can I get the cheque now?”
Before he got a chance to hand the paper over, they were interrupted by shouting in the next room.
“GYRO! HOT PANTS IS COMING! WE HAVE TO GET THE MESS CLEANED UP!”
Wide-eyed, Gyro got up and shoved the cheque into Johnny’s hand. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
And with that, Johnny was left in the office as he heard two voices repeatedly swearing as they frantically cleaned up the remains of whatever happened last night.