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"So, what do we do now?"
Snow fell in cold lumps upon Johnny's face, biting his skin and freezing the tear stains that trailed down his freckled, rosy cheeks. To say that he was depressed was an understatement. A more fitting description of his feelings would be as if an abysmal black hole had made home in his chest and started sucking the hope out of him.
He and Gyro lost all of the corpse parts they had, and to Johnny, that was his will to live, his driving force on his fiery path of determination. Suddenly vanished from his existence, as if the promise of him being able to use his purposeless legs never even occurred. The thought brought him to more tears, welling up on the precipice of his lids and threatening to burst like a busted dam. He held back though, choking on the burn that stung in his throat.
Beside him, Gyro crouched down and poured the cheap wine that Johnny received from trading the corpse parts into a small metal cup. He poured until the liquid threatened to spill over and brought the cup to his lips, chugging the dry red like water. He poured another generous helping and handed it to Johnny, who chugged it down just as Gyro had done.
"We keep on going".
Gyro stared off into the snowed streets, the pure white of it reflecting off of his emerald green eyes, making them significantly clearer. Johnny wished he had the same kind of steadfast determination that Gyro carried, but he knew that his own was charged by egocentric intent. The goal to make himself not as pitiful, maybe carry himself back to the times when he was unconditionally desired. Was it a goal, or some type of pipe dream?
He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow as waves of different swirling emotions came over him. The crescents of his nails dug into his palm and made angry red marks with the pressure. He would use his emotions at this moment like a loaded gun, keep on going with spite for how the world seemed to want to treat him, bite back a little more.
Warmth caressed his shoulder, and he was brought back into reality. An uncharacteristically soft smile was on Gyro's face as he tilted his head to inspect the brooding Johnny. Johnny couldn't help but light up just the tiniest bit when he saw that smile.
Wiping the chilled tears from his face, Johnny took a breath and exhaled, watching as heat from his breath steamed in the bitter cold. Things seemed to click when he looked at and watched Gyro, and right now, his smile mended a few of the scattered pieces of his heart back into his chest. Snagging the bottle from the older man, Johnny took a swig, wiping his mouth,
"Let's keep going, then".
.
"Nyo~ho! Lady luck hasn't abandoned us yet, Johnny! I've still got some of my own cash stored away, I completely forgot!"
Gyro splayed out a wad of hundreds in his hands like playing cards, golden smile glimmering with satisfaction. Johnny's jaw dropped, "G-gyro, where have you been keeping that?"
Gyro chuckled and ruffled Johnny's beanied head, earning him an annoyed groan from the other, "I've got my connections mio amico, don't you worry your pretty little head". A blush bloomed on Johnny's pale face, but he turned away before Gyro could notice, not that he would, considering how focused he was on the money. Johnny coughed awkwardly and started packing his saddle bag, "so… uh, it would probably be smartest if we stayed at an inn tonight considering the weather". Gyro hummed in agreement as he patted Valkyrie's face, "you got money for your own room?"
Johnny sighed and rummaged through his belongings. The only things he carried were hygienic essentials, two changes of clothing, a canteen, old, dried up jerky, and the cursed bottle of wine. A growl came from his throat and he tisked, "no…"
Gyro looked down at him and ran a large hand through his hair, "guess that means you have to stay out here, then…" Johnny's eyes shot up in exasperation, "wh-what?!" Gyro slapped his thigh and laughed, "you should see the look on your face! Silly Johnny, of course I wouldn't leave you out here".
"You know you're a fucking asshole". Johnny shot a nail bullet near Gyro's feet, startling him into a jump and making him yell, "Johnny Joestar! How dare you, after I offer you free shelter nonetheless!"
Johnny snorted and threw his saddle bag on Slow Dancer, "come on idiot, let's go get shit faced".
.
After boarding up Valkyrie and Slow Dancer, the two men entered a shabby bar that was connected to the inn they decided to take up. Dim lighting partnered by cigar smoke created a haze that was fitting for a bar of its style. Johnny wheeled to the bartender and ordered himself and Gyro shots of bourbon whiskey, since Gyro mentioned never having tried American whiskey.
He had seen and experienced drunk Gyro before, but tonight he decided that he wanted both of them to get drunk out of their minds, forget for a night that their lives were constantly on the line. Gyro sauntered over and accepted the glass Johnny gave him. He eyed it wearily. Sniffing it, his nose scrunched up and he gagged, "Eugh! This smells like rubbing alcohol!"
Johnny snickered at Gyro before downing his first shot. He took in the familiar burn that traveled down his throat and into the pit of his stomach, enjoying the nostalgia of better days tied to that feeling. "What, your fancy Italian palette too good for it?"
Gyro shot a challenging gaze towards Johnny, and Johnny kept it while requesting the bartender for another round. Gyro tipped the glass to the ceiling and quickly drank the hard liquor in one gulp, slamming the shot glass down after he finished. Johnny would've been surprised if Gyro hadn't started coughing a few seconds later, his face twisting as if he had sucked on a lemon. The smaller man laughed and pointed, a slight blush rising to his cheeks, "better keep that one down, because there's more where that came from!"
Gyro pouted and flipped off the jockey, "what's the use of drinking if it's gonna taste like shit! You Americans really have no class". Johnny stuck out his tongue to the older man, "the point is to get drunk, dumbass, and that's what we're gonna do, now drink!" In front of the two were four more shots for each, and in Gyro's mind he could only imagine how drunk he was gonna get, because once he was sober, he wouldn't remember it.
Picking up a glass and raising it to the sky, Johnny cleared his throat, "to the ball that hit the net! Or whatever the saying is" gyro met his glass in the air and clinked it, sending the sharp sound of determination and promise through the air. They smiled at each other, both of their faces full of tipsy delight as onlookers complained quietly about their unabashed exuberance in the otherwise calm and quiet atmosphere.
"To the ball that hit the net!"
.
"W-wait, there's only one bed?"
Johnny wheeled into the room, the weight of his chair making the floorboards squeak with effort. He clutched onto his traveling bag, eyes darting to Gyro's sweating face. "Ah, I guess I didn' specify… sorry".
Johnny just sighed and started climbing into the bed, taking off his shoes and not bothering to get out of his clothes. Gyro threw his stuff on the ground and caught Johnny's leg, "Hey, hey, hey, hey, what're you doin'? That bed s'not big enough for both of us!" Johnny lifted his head and groaned, "which one of us s'the paraplegic, dumbass? M'too wasted to care anyways".
Gyro huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms while trying to balance himself, "guess I have no choice, Johnny boy". Johnny turned his head just in time as Gyro flopped himself on the smaller man, pinning him under his weight. Star studded fists banged on Gyro's back like a drum, "GET THE HELL OFF OF ME FAT ASS!" Johnny could feel the rumbling of Gyro's laughter against his chest as he kept on hitting the larger man. He wasn't budging, and the jockey eventually stopped his onslaught of punches and accepted that Gyro wasn't gonna move.
The warmth of a larger body on his was actually quite nice, the solid feel of Gyro on him becoming comfortable. With the alcohol running through his veins and the extra body heat surrounding him, his breathing evened out, and for once during the months of turmoil and fending for his life, Johnny found comfort. Both he and Gyro were safe and drunkenly content. That's all he cared about.
"Hey, Gy"
Gyro lifted his head from where it was nestled in Johnny's side, "hm?"
Johnny mindlessly played with Gyro's long blonde locks while he talked, "what're you gonna do after the race? I mean, after everything is settled down I guess… I have no idea what m'gonna do. Got nothing to do, really". Gyro stared at him for a second, a blush high on his cheekbones not only from his intoxication, but also from the way Johnny comfortably stroked his hair. He propped himself up on his elbows and sighed, "go back t'Naples, receive amnesty for Marco, and assume the role I was given as the oldest Zeppeli son".
Johnny was quiet as he kept on running his fingers through Gyro's hair. There was a somber look in his sky blue eyes, a sadness that came without words, the knowledge that after the race was done he would have nothing. Gyro got up off of Johnny and sat beside him. He looked out of the small window that was adjacent to the bed and watched as firelit lamps from outside illuminated thick snowfall. Looking back at the younger man, Gyro's heart thumped in his chest. Those blue eyes were chilling, yet, there was still an undeniable fire that burned deep within them.
A large hand came a top Johnny's head and swiped off his beanie, allowing soft blonde hair to poof out in all directions.
"Hey, m'hat! What was that for?"
Gyro chuckled and brushed his fingers through Johnny's hair, eyes scanning his face for any sign of discomfort, "you were doing this to m'hair just a second ago, thought I'd give it a try". Gyro didn't ignore the way Johnny relaxed into his touch, his eyes purposefully staying away from Gyro's. His hair was surprisingly soft, and the way it framed his face was oddly adorable. When their eyes met, whether it be from the alcohol or sheer confidence, Gyro spat out the statement he had been wanting to all night.
"Come with me to Naples, Johnny".
Johnny froze, eyes wide and eyebrows knit in confusion. His mouth opened and closed, and opened and closed again. He turned away from the older man, hands covering his face. Gyro knew without a doubt that Johnny had started crying. He peeled one hand away from Johnny's face and wiped away stray tears with his thumb.
Johnny's voice was just above a whisper, "you don't mean it. Don't lie to me Gyro".
Gyro peeled the other hand away, getting a full look at the other's tear stained face. His heart beat wildly in his chest when he focused on how smatterings of freckles cascaded over the bridge of Johnny's nose and down onto his cheeks. How tears clumped up his long eyelashes and made the blue of his irises glitter. How, even though he was crying, Gyro could still discern the fire that burned wildly within him.
Gyro let go of Johnny's hands and resorted to wiping the rest of his tears away, "I do. Johnny, look at me".
Johnny met Gyro's gaze.
Gyro had been the kerosene that kept Johnny's untamable flame burning throughout the race, a flame that burned bright enough for him to risk it all. To risk it all to see his face again, to listen to his stupid jokes and songs, to kill for. Whereas everyone else was water, Gyro was his kerosene.
Johnny didn't remember if he had any prior thoughts before kissing Gyro, because time stood still and his brain hit reset. It wasn't the most pleasant thing in the world, considering the mingled breath of both men consisted of alcohol and unbrushed teeth; but it was more than just a kiss. It was an unspoken promise that sealed the bond and fate between them. A door opened for Johnny, and he realized that whether he entered the door with working legs or not, Gyro would be on the other side, hand outstretched.
Their lips disconnected slowly. Gyro's eyes were still closed when Johnny willed himself to look at the other.
A sudden wave of anxiety and embarrassment flooded over him as he scrambled away from Gyro, tears threatening to fall once again, "fuck- Gyro, I-I don't know why I did- I'm sorry, Jesus Christ-". His body shook and he curled in on himself, afraid that if he looked back at Gyro he would break into a million pieces.
"Johnny"
"I know, fuck, I'm so fucking sorry-"
"Johnny, shut the fuck up and look at me"
He didn't want to, but he did. He trusted Gyro.
Gyro's hands were on his face, furiously smashing their lips together when Johnny turned to him. Surely their mouths would be bruised afterwards, but that wasn't a present thought in either of their heads. Desperately, Johnny grasped at Gyro anywhere he could; his hair, his shoulders, his chest, his face.
A sob forced itself out of the younger man's throat, causing Gyro to move back, still keeping both palms on Johnny's cheeks. Tears spilled like fat raindrops down his face and over Gyro's hands. A smile stretched out across Johnny's face, one of the only genuine smiles Gyro had the gift of seeing from him, the fire ever present. The older man peppered kisses across Johnny's face as he kept weeping, physical reminders burning onto his pale skin.
"Gyro, you motherfucker, you bastard, you-"
Gyro planted his lips on Johnny's again to shut him up, smiling into it as Johnny kept on stuttering out insults towards him in-between. They stayed like that for a while, nestled in each other's arms on the small, creaking mattress, sharing kisses meant only for them to see, only for them to know. So much had happened, but there was this moment among the rest that made nothing else matter. Johnny's lips were chapped to hell and Gyro's stubble scratched him, but it was obscenely perfect.
"Come with me, Johnny. We can live a peaceful life in Naples".
His words were softly spoken within the small gap between them, forever caught in the space meant only for them. It was a promise, and Johnny had learned not to trust promises, but this one tugged so greatly at his heart that he had no other choice than to accept it.
"Yes. Yes, I'll go with you. We'll go there together".
Gyro flashed his signature gold smile and held Johnny against his chest, giggling like a schoolgirl. Johnny wanted to tease him, but in all honesty, he was just as giddy himself.
They fell asleep wrapped up in each other's arms, limbs tangled together. It was such a bitterly cold night, but they had found comfort in the way their burning skin pressed up against one another. A certain peace had been found in the promise they made with each other, and both would walk through the newly opened door without looking back.