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Speedwagon had seen Jonathan in some pretty terrible states before, although he’d have to say this was the worst. Not that he would blame the man for barely having the strength to leave his bed—Jonathan and Erina had been the stuff of legends. After all their years together, to think of them apart was nearly incomprehensible even to him. It was only natural that Jojo had been left broken in the wake of the breakup, given that the world as he’d known it had been shattered so suddenly.
For whatever solace it was worth, Speedwagon had not left him to weather the tragedy all on his own. He’d been visiting his friend daily in the two weeks since it had happened, always ready with a box of chocolates and a cheesy movie for the two of them to watch in an effort to keep Jojo’s mind off of things. True, it more often than not ended up with Jonathan sobbing quietly next to him, the movie forgotten in the background—but at least he never refused the chocolate. Speedwagon chose to take that as a positive sign, and so he continued to show up each day without fail in order to give whatever comfort he could.
What Jojo needed right now was a good friend to see him through.
The last time he’d seen Jojo laid low like this was years ago now, way back when their friendship had first begun.
They’d met rather by chance during Jojo’s undergrad, when the Joestar family had been in turmoil trying to get his brother Dio off drugs. Jonathan, with all his naïve, 19-year-old bravado, had thought he could solve the problem by confronting Dio's dealer. In his search he’d crossed paths with Speedwagon, who at that time was well acquainted with the underworld.
Speedwagon and his mates had been loitering outside of some dank pub when he approached with his pale blue dress shirt pressed to pristine crispness, a golden Rolex glinting on his wrist, without a hint of apprehension. Speedwagon could hardly believe his luck that such an easy mark was walking right up to him.
Jojo had explained the whole situation earnestly. He was looking for a man named Wang Chen who was said to hang out in this area. Had they perhaps seen him? It didn’t seem to occur to him that he was a lamb who’d just walked into a den of hungry wolves.
Speedwagon barked out a derisive laugh. "Look kid, this guy's a pro, he ain’t gonna stop just ‘cause you ask him nicely. Me, on the other hand…” he flicked out his knife. “I just might. Why don’cha try it?”
He’d begun his own advance when Jonathan stopped him in his tracks with a firm grip on his wrist. The tip of the blade had stuck into Jonathan’s forearm, but he paid no mind to the blood steadily soaking into his sleeve. "I'm not going to ask him nicely,” he replied. Up close, he was a good foot taller than Speedwagon, all muscle under that button-up of his. His eyes were burning with a fire in direct contrast to the naïve appearance he presented. And it created a spark within Speedwagon too.
He could feel the grip in his bones—with even a little more pressure, he could snap Speedwagon’s wrist like a twig. Could the three of them even take this kid and get out unscathed?
But just as soon as he’d been caught, Jonathan released him. “I’ll be clear—I’m doing this for the sake of my family, and that means I’ll stop at nothing to see it through. But you’ve got nothing to do with this, so I’d just as soon leave you and your friends unharmed. I’d hate to cause any grief to your families while I’m fighting for mine.”
Speedwagon’s mates looked to him for instruction. If he had been a different sort of man, he would’ve rolled this kid for the watch no matter what honourable words he preached.
But any other bougie university prat might’ve taken one look at him, with his torn clothes and messy hair, in a neighbourhood like this, and lumped him in with scum like Wang Chen without a second thought—regardless of the fact he’d never messed around with the drug trade, especially not the doctored shit Wang Chen peddled. Anyone else with this strength and social station would’ve left Speedwagon and his friends for dead in the gutter without losing a single night’s worth of sleep.
This one spoke to him with respect, even after Speedwagon had threatened him.
So instead, Speedwagon smiled around his cigarette, stowing his blade back in his pocket. There was something special about this one, that was for sure. “It’s a bad idea, but I’ll tell ya where to find him,” he said. “A kid like you’s gonna get your ass beat if you go alone, so I hope ya don’t mind if I tag along.” Rather than a blade this time, he extended his hand. “Speedwagon, at your service.”
Jonathan took it, his grip still firm, yet amiable. “Jonathan Joestar,” he smiled, “You can call me Jojo.”
Despite Jojo’s impressive determination and stature, and Speedwagon’s accompaniment—his prediction came true. The ensuing fight may have stopped Wang Chen, but it left Jonathan incapacitated too. Fortunately for him, he now had a tireless and devoted friend to carry him off to the hospital—and anywhere else he might need, come hell or high water.
It had been a spark of infatuation that had ignited in him that day, only stoked higher by Jojo’s valiant actions during the battle. By the time they got to the hospital it had grown into a fierce conflagration of love. He knew it wasn’t rational, but Speedwagon had always been the type to put his entire heart into anything he did. Though his friends teased him—with good humour but without mercy—they still helped him to sneak away after his own serious yet comparatively minor wounds had been tended to. Speedwagon had made his way to the young man’s hospital room, intent on seeing him through the rough time, giving whatever comfort he could offer, even if it was just holding his hand—
Whereupon he was promptly introduced to Erina.
She’d eyed his rough appearance with suspicion at first, fixing him with a glare that seemed ready to kill if he’d meant any harm to her beloved. But Jojo had quickly explained, and that icy suspicion turned to the warmth of gratitude.
Speedwagon had heard it all as he got to know them. The story of how they met as children, and their magical reunion in high school after years of being torn apart by circumstance. Erina was kind and noble just like Jonathan, and regrettable though it was, he had to admit they were good together. The two had their future all worked out. While they were saving a formal engagement for when they were done with school, they’d been “promised” to each other since the age of sixteen. It would typically have been enough to make Speedwagon gag, yet somehow when it was the two of them, he found it sweet.
Still, there was no helping how he felt. Jonathan’s pure heart and the way he rushed into things based more on passion than strategy had won him over. He’d be sticking around even if all he could be was a friend to him. Speedwagon never had been able to resist meddling in other people’s business, and he was certain Jojo’s naïveté would get him into more trouble yet. He’d been looking out for the man ever since.
Therefore, it was the least he could do now to be a shoulder for Jojo to cry on during this time of need. As any good friend would.
But…
Sometimes, when Jonathan nodded off against said shoulder, his face softened with sleep, Speedwagon’s heart beat a little faster than could be claimed by someone acting merely as a friend. He wasn’t nearly as good as Jojo supposed him to be, with the direction his thoughts turned in these moments. What kind of person stares at his friend’s soft lips with such longing? Attunes himself so intently to the pressure of his friend’s body against his?
And here was Jojo, innocent and oblivious to all of it. Simply thankful to Speedwagon for his presence.
After eight years of friendship he’d been pining long enough to know not to act on these desires. Instead, he chose the opposite. He would finish out the movie with every nerve on edge, acutely aware of his every move while Jonathan slumbered against him. Then, once it was over, he’d quietly slip out of bed. He’d make sure to let Jonathan stay in the peaceful realm of sleep, tucked nicely beneath the sheets. And he’d resist with every ounce of his willpower the urge to give his brow a soft kiss.
Then, he’d retreat.
It was perhaps the very antithesis of indulgence.
But once—only once, and surely just by fluke—Jonathan, in the throes of sleep, wrapped his arms around Speedwagon’s waist. Within that tight embrace, Speedwagon felt as though his heart itself had been placed in a vice. It was a wonder the erratic beating of it alone wasn’t enough to wake Jojo immediately.
Once Jonathan Joestar got his grip on something, there wasn’t a hand on earth that could force him to let go. And so, since he was stuck there anyway…
He let himself fall into fantasy. It was wrong, of course, but he imagined Jonathan held him tight like a lover would. As if the young gentleman shared his feelings, and the two laid in each other’s arms like this all the time. He even went so far as to reach up and run his hand softly through the waves of Jonathan’s hair, a gesture of affection he’d only briefly gotten away with during waking moments. It was easy enough to make an excuse, with Jojo’s hair often a little windswept. But now he really indulged himself—though not without the hope that Jonathan would get comfort from the sensation too, whatever dreams he may be lost in.
Yet for better or for worse, beginning to wake and yet still in the last clutches of sleep, Jonathan had pulled away. As they said their goodbyes that day Jojo made no mention of the embrace or the caresses, and the pang hit Speedwagon harder than he’d expected. Of course it had only been some unconscious reflex. Jojo hadn’t meant anything by it. He hadn’t even been aware. It was Speedwagon who’d foolishly let himself get swept away.
After two weeks it had become a little too much for Speedwagon to bear, so he decided to kill two birds with one stone. He’d take Jonathan out for a night in the city, visit a few pubs, liven his spirits—and give his own heart a break.
So that’s how they’d ended up here at their last stop of the night, the most upscale bar Speedwagon could reasonably hope to treat Jonathan to. Not that he’d taken him to any real dives so far, but he’d already planned to be eating ramen noodles for a month to afford this trip and he hadn’t wanted to extend that to a year by starting off in a place like this. Still, he’d wanted Jojo to have a nice time.
Even though the late summer sun outside had set long ago, the warm lighting gave everything within a pleasant glow. The polished brass and mahogany of the bar caught the reflection of the globe lights overhead. It was much different from the raucous places he usually hung out, but the vibrant, faux-retro art on the walls and the chatter of other patrons mixed with soft jazz music still gave it a cheerful vibe. Altogether, Speedwagon thought, it seemed like a nice place to top the night off.
Across the booth from him, Jonathan was well in his cups already. In fact, he’d been drinking tonight with more enthusiasm than he’d shown since Erina left.
“C’mon, at least have somethin’ to eat with that.” Speedwagon slid their shared basket of chips closer to him. For his own part, Speedwagon had been pacing himself. Someone had to look out for the young Joestar, after all. Despite both of them having gotten older, Jojo still maintained that spark of naivete that he loved so much.
Jonathan kept talking without acknowledging Speedwagon’s busybodying, though he did grab a few chips. “Why’d she have to wait until we were at the airport to bring it up?” he said. “We’d both known for years she’d be going away to India for med school! I thought we were on the same page.” In lieu of the usual sniffle, he popped them into his mouth. “After all, we did the long-distance thing already when I had my archeology internship in Mexico. Why would this be any different?”
Speedwagon remembered Jonathan’s panicked phone call from that morning. If he hadn’t known already that Jojo was meant to be seeing Erina off, he may never have found him with how badly he’d been hyperventilating outside of his desperate plea of “I need you”. Frantic, Speedwagon had stayed on the line with him as his cab sped to the airport, but Jonathan had been so inconsolable that the full reality of what had happened didn’t set in until he’d found him huddled on a bench near departures, looking so utterly small and alone despite his massive stature.
To the question, Speedwagon could only shrug. “That was four months Jojo, not four years… Big changes like that, everyone’s got their own way of dealin’ with them.” Who could say what went on in other people’s minds? If Jojo couldn’t fathom Erina’s choices after knowing her practically his whole life, far be it from him to try and puzzle it out. Regardless, he couldn’t conjure any unkind remark about her. He knew Jonathan wouldn’t have wanted to hear it, gentleman that he was.
In response, Jojo threw back the rest of his pint, an errant drop of the beer tracing slowly down his neck. In the barlights it glowed gold against Jojo’s warm, tanned skin, and Speedwagon watched its journey with an intensity that was nearly palpable. He knew he shouldn’t, and he was certain every eye in this bar was watching him in contempt as he shamelessly ogled his best friend. But who were they to judge? If they were watching, then surely they could see what he was seeing too. How could he be expected not to fall in love with a man like this? And oh, what an idiotic, hopeless love it was… Jojo had been dating the same girl since high school for God’s sake!
But now, here he was… free.
And grieving the loss of his most important relationship. He shook his head, trying to clear the thought. No, Speedwagon wasn’t going to swoop in on its remains like a vulture. Jojo needed him to be a good friend.
He tore his gaze away.
The moment had seemed to last for ages, and yet when he looked back it was just as Jojo was lowering his glass. When their eyes met, Jojo’s were full of tears.
What was he thinking, while his friend was suffering so much? The guilt was like a spike driven through his heart. Maybe taking him out drinking hadn’t been a good idea either. Naturally, Jojo had been swaying between bouts of joy and sorrow all evening, but he hadn’t planned for this to be the mood that ended their outing.
“Oi oi… wasn’t this supposed to cheer you up?” Speedwagon tried to keep his voice light to mask the panic unfurling inside him.
“I-I’m sorry,” Jojo sniffled as the tears threatened to spill down his cheeks.
“Don’t worry about it.” Speedwagon gave Jonathan’s hand a quick squeeze, and hid his immediate fluster by glancing down at his watch. “What d’ya say we give you a chance to walk it off a little before we get the last train back? I’m sure there’s an ice cream cart still open somewhere around here.”
At the mention of ice cream Jonathan’s eyes lit up, and Speedwagon’s heart lightened too. Jojo laughed through the trail of tears on his cheeks. “You always know just how to help, Speedwagon”
The ice cream had indeed done the trick, and now as they strolled through a park near the station Jonathan was in brighter spirits already.
“Y’know,” Speedwagon said, finishing the last of his ice cream cone, settling into the newly jovial atmosphere, “They used to keep a big pen of rabbits in this park.”
“Really? Where—?” Jojo craned his head as if to look, though he was well aware Speedwagon had been speaking in the past tense. Still a bit drunk, the ice cream had put him in a giddy mood.
Speedwagon chuckled. “They really did, right here in the middle of the city! Until one day the rabbits finally succeeded, as rabbits do, in tunnelin’ their way out of the pen. Suddenly the whole park was filled with fluffy little bunnies, and they were a right bugger to catch, too. Spent hours chasin’ ‘em around!”
Jonathan abruptly paused his steps, doubling over to clutch his sides with laughter. The image of the park being overrun with the cute little creatures must have been too funny for him to bear in his current state.
Speedwagon grinned right along with him, heart soaring at the joy he saw on Jonathan’s face. When the laughter had finally subsided, Jonathan picked up their stroll again. The giddiness still remained in his step though, and the glance he threw over at Speedwagon made his stomach do flips.
“You’re so great, Speedwagon,” Jonathan said, lightly bumping against his shoulder. “How come you’ve never had a boyfriend?”
"C'mon, I've had boyfriends." It wasn’t a lie, though admittedly in these last eight years they’d been little more than flings, and even those few and far between.
"Not in the same way as... as me and Erina."
"Jojo," Speedwagon said softly, "I don't think most people have the same kinda thing you and Erina had."
Jonathan stopped in his tracks once again, the word “had” hitting like a pang in his heart so sharp that Speedwagon could feel it just by looking at him. He wiped at his eyes, but couldn't stop the tears from flowing. "H-How am I ever gonna..."
Speedwagon winced. "Fuck. Jonathan, I shouldn’ta said that. I'm sorry."
“I’ll never find—” The words caught on a sob, and while Speedwagon knew it was nothing compared to what Jonathan was going through, pain lanced through his own heart as if it were breaking too.
“C’mere,” he said, holding out his arms, guiding Jonathan in. It was the only way he knew to offer comfort now, but it still felt so damn self-serving. Especially seeing as it was his fault Jojo was crying in the first place.
Nonetheless, Jonathan welcomed the embrace, burying his face into Speedwagon’s shoulder and clutching onto his sides for support. Speedwagon was sure the studs on his vest must not be comfortable, but Jonathan didn’t seem to mind. Or perhaps it was just that his anguish had him past caring.
Speedwagon knew he shouldn’t. But before he could think to stop himself, his fingers began to gently stroke through the hair at the base of Jonathan’s neck. The gesture made Jonathan sob even louder, and yet his grip on Speedwagon tightened. So he didn’t stop.
"Put my goddamn foot in my mouth…" Speedwagon muttered. "Jojo, I know it doesn't mean a lot to hear it now, but you'll get through this. We'll get through it together. One day it won't... it won't always be this bad." After a pause, his heartbeat racing a mile a minute, he opened his mouth to say more—
And was interrupted by the loud chime of a clock.
“Shit,” Speedwagon said instead. Was it this late already? “Jojo, the train!”
Jojo jumped up straight, instantly shaken from his sorrow. “Oh, crap!”
“We might still be able to make it if we—”
Before he could finish, Jonathan had taken him by the hand and started running through the night.
The city air was warm around them, and at this late hour the only sound was their footsteps on the pavement. But even this was muffled to Speedwagon’s ears—all he could focus on was the place where their hands met. All sense of urgency was forgotten, as was the logic of letting the drunker of the two of them take the lead. The only thing he could think was that he would gladly let Jonathan lead him anywhere he wished, now and until the end of time.
Jonathan really wasn’t leading him all that far, though. Before long they rounded the corner that led up to the station—only to see the train pulling away along the tracks. Slowing to a stop, both breathing hard, they watched helplessly as it passed them by. In the dark, the light from the windows spilled over them in waves until they were left in shadows once more.
“Oh, this is all my fault…” Jonathan said miserably, after the bright lights had faded away into the distance.
“C’mon Jojo, don’t beat yourself up about it. I shoulda been payin’ attention.”
“But I—” It was here Jonathan realized they were still holding hands. After a moment, he let go, looking away.
Was that a blush on his cheeks? No, you idiot, Speedwagon told himself. It was just ‘cause they’d been running, and Jojo was probably still pretty drunk even with his fast metabolism. He curled his fingers into his palm, as if he could save the feeling of them intertwined with Jojo’s if he only held it tight enough.
“So what do we do now?” Jonathan asked, looking back at him with a grave expression. “We’re stuck out here.”
Speedwagon shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well… I know I said tonight was my treat, but right now I’m really hopin’ you brought that rich boy credit card with you so we can get ourselves a room. I’ve had my days of sleepin’ in alleyways and lemme tell you, you would not enjoy it.”
Jonathan smiled at him with that warm, kind smile of his. The one that made Speedwagon think he couldn’t possibly love him more.
“Maybe I can’t keep us from missing our train, but that I can do.”
After walking for some time, they’d found a room at a decent yet unremarkable hotel. Fifth floor, with two double beds and not much else. But once they’d gone upstairs, Jonathan still seemed restless. Perhaps it was energy pent up from weeks spent mournfully in bed, or the last remains of the alcohol. Whatever the reason, Jojo didn’t seem in the mood to sleep, and as tired as he was, Speedwagon didn’t want to let their night come to an end yet either.
So now the two of them were leaned on the windowsill, Jonathan’s face silhouetted by the hazy yellow glow of a streetlight outside. Tonight he’d been talkative more than mournful, and he picked up from where they’d left off at the bar, trying to puzzle out just how everything had gone so wrong. Only now he just sounded defeated. As if all his tears had finally been cried out.
“I just can’t make sense of it. After thirteen years together, why not talk to me first? If she had just told me why… then maybe I could have accepted it, even if we couldn’t work things out. But this… it’s even worse, this way.”
Speedwagon had never known Erina to be a cruel person, and so the why of her leaving Jonathan so terribly heartbroken was a mystery to him too. Even his countless unanswered texts to her hadn’t managed to coax out an explanation, despite the excuses he’d tried to conjure up on her behalf. With all the years he’d known her he didn’t want to imagine any maliciousness, but the damage left behind by her choice was clear even if her motive was not
“I’m sure she must’ve had her own reasons, but whatever they were, you deserved better…” he trailed off for a moment before continuing. "If it was me, I wouldn't have given you up so easily."
An immediate chill passed through his body. Fuck. Why had he said that? Even his heart seemed to still as he stood frozen in anticipation of what Jonathan would make of such a declaration.
The headlights of a late-night cab lit up Jonathan’s face as it passed by. His eyes were sharp, less clouded than they’d been all day, be it by grief or by alcohol. But his expression was still inscrutable and the light all too fleeting, and just as quickly as they were revealed they were plunged into darkness once again. Yet still, Speedwagon found himself transfixed by that sharp gaze.
Jonathan reached out and laid his palm along the side of Speedwagon’s neck, his thumb hovering just next to his lips, and suddenly all the air was gone from his lungs.
“Speedwagon, would you… do you want to kiss me?” Jonathan asked, sounding as casual as if he were remarking on the weather, but the weight the question held was all too palpable. Was it an accusation, or an invitation? He wondered if he'd ever spent a moment of these last eight years not wanting to kiss Jonathan Joestar.
“Yes,” he whispered, breathless and near-silent even though in his heart it felt like a shout.
Jonathan took a little half-step forward. He paused in front of Speedwagon for a terrible, agonizing, exhilarating moment before rushing forward to bring their lips together.
And Speedwagon let go, leaning into it with all the force of the feelings he’d been hiding since that first day they’d known each other.
It wasn’t a delicate sort of kiss, but Jonathan responded in kind.
Speedwagon tangled his fingers in Jonathan’s hair, hands cupping the back of his head, laying kisses wherever he could. His lips, his jaw, his neck.
Jonathan’s lips and hands were on him too, hot like fire compared to the cold fear that had frozen him in place only a moment before. The heat of his embrace had melted that terror, burned through the walls he’d built around the spark inside him that had ignited on that day. Now, engulfed in that inferno, Speedwagon didn’t think it was within his power to stop before Jojo took this however far he wanted it to go.
Jonathan’s hands slipped lower, coming to rest on Speedwagon’s hips, and Speedwagon made a soft noise against his throat. He hadn’t realized they’d moved from the window until he felt the edge of the mattress hit the back of his knees.
The grip of Jonathan’s hands had just begun to tighten, to pull the two of them together, when he stopped himself. "Speedwagon, are you su—"
"Yes!" he answered, before the man could even get the question out, threading a hand into his hair and kissing him with renewed passion, proving just how much he meant it. He knew Jonathan couldn’t possibly know how sure he’d been about this, from the very first moment they met.
With one more gentle push, Speedwagon fell back on the bed.
And Jonathan fell with him.
The next morning, waking up under hotel sheets and one of Jonathan's beefy arms, Speedwagon took a moment to get his bearings. And just barely managed to keep from bolting upright when all the memories of the night before came flooding in.
There was no way he was going to be able to relax in a situation like this, so he expertly slipped out of the bed while leaving Jojo undisturbed. He got dressed, then went to wash his face. Being up so late had him looking like hell, the lines beneath his eyes even darker than usual, but that face he saw in the mirror couldn’t stop grinning like a lovestruck fool. His heart was nearly beating out of his chest with happiness and he had to hold himself back from punching the air in celebration. Instead, he plunged his face into the water again, scrubbing with renewed vigour. His mind conjured up thousands of motives for Jojo actions last night and an equal number of ways this morning could progress from here, each one more indulgent than the last. Truth be told, any situation in which Jonathan willingly spent the night in his embrace would have left him in this state—even if it was just some kind of rebound. It didn’t have to be, though.
Yet the sound of Jonathan stirring shot a jolt of panic through his heart, sending it spiraling to the ground. The truth was, despite all he told himself, he was afraid of what might happen. It was morning now, and of course Jonathan was in no position to make this any more than it had been. Speedwagon could never be embarrassed by what had happened between them, but Jonathan probably would be. He shut off the water quietly as he could, scarcely afraid to breathe from the fear of bringing reality even a little closer. While the gentleman slept, he could imagine any outcome to this night he wanted—but confronting him now in the light of day would cause that dream he’d built up to shatter.
“Speedwagon?” Jojo’s muffled, sleepy voice called for him from the bed.
Speedwagon wasn’t normally this kind of person, but he chose the coward’s way out.
“You up, Jojo?” he tried to keep his voice light, speaking without coming around the corner. “We had a late night, so feel free to sleep in. I’m just headin’ downstairs for some coffee. Meet ya there when you’re ready!”
He withdrew without waiting for a reply.
And he felt awful about it almost right away. Rather than protect him, running away had just trapped him on the edge of this cliff, waiting for the fall that was to come. Worse, he’d left Jojo in this same uncertain position, up in the hotel room all alone. He should have stayed with him and faced it head-on. Should’ve had a bit more faith in him, not to mention some common fucking decency.
Now instead he was tucked away in a corner of the lobby, at a table half-hidden by a large potted plant. He really had gotten some of the shitty complimentary hotel coffee—and a cup for Jojo, too—but he didn’t think his nerves could handle drinking it just yet. So he sat there, waiting in agony, eyes flicking to the elevator doors every two seconds searching for Jojo.
Still, he wasn’t expecting it, when they opened with a ding and Jonathan stepped out. His shirt was wrinkled, and his hair a little mussed, but God, he was so perfect it nearly hurt. Beautiful as he was, Speedwagon couldn’t bear to just watch him from a distance when he saw the forlorn look on his face. How cowardly and stupid he’d been, deciding to run off like that. Jonathan had been abandoned by Erina without explanation a mere two weeks ago and now Speedwagon had just done the same! He leaned out from the plant’s cover and gave a little wave. Relief washed over Jojo’s features as he made his way over.
He truly meant to apologize for leaving him, but the moment Jonathan reached the table, he beat him to it.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
Speedwagon swallowed his words, suddenly unable to quite meet his friend’s eye—both from the guilt, and the pain that had blossomed in his chest.
“…What’re you sorry for?” Of course. Their night together was a source of regret for Jojo, just as he’d feared.
“Um…” Jonathan furrowed his brow, searching for an answer. “For dragging you into my mess, I suppose.”
Speedwagon let out an awkward little laugh. “C’mon Jojo, you know I can’t help but get involved with your messes. Did it ever seem like I wasn’t into it? If anythin’ I should be the one apologizin’, for takin’ advantage when you were vulnerable, and—”
“It was a choice I made freely, Speedwagon,” Jonathan said, stern voice leaving no room for argument. Then, softer, “And you know it. You aren’t the sort of person who’d take advantage.”
Jojo was right. He did know it. Jonathan had wanted him—at least for last night. Speedwagon had longed for that so badly he’d seized it in a heartbeat with no regard for what would happen afterward. The relationship between them would never be the same, and he hadn’t cared. Maybe that’s why he felt so awful, though mere minutes ago he’d been ecstatic. Even if it was a rebound, he’d told himself, but who was he kidding? Could he really be happy with just one night?
Cutting into his thoughts, Jonathan continued, “I hope you know, I never intended for this to just be some kind of one-night stand. That’s not the sort of person I am.”
“And if Erina comes back, what then?” The words had flowed out without thought, rougher than he’d intended, and even Jonathan looked a little taken aback by them. But there was guilt in his expression too, because Jojo must’ve known that Speedwagon could read the first thought that ran through his mind: God, I wish Erina would come back.
And that was the essence of the problem, wasn’t it? Speedwagon had never believed Erina would be gone for good, not after thirteen years. And when those two fated lovers reunited once again, Speedwagon couldn’t just return to being the devoted friend by Jojo’s side. Jojo was a good person, damn near a saint, but when posed with that choice surely even he—
"I…" The assumption had hurt him, and he fumbled with his words. "It’s not... This wasn't just because we missed the train, alright? It wasn't just because I’ve been so miserable lately. It's..."
Speedwagon tapped his fingers nervously on his knee, wishing he’d never quit smoking. His stomach turned with trepidation, and even worse, hope, as he wondered just what would come next.
“I’ll admit that this is new for me, and I don’t know what the right answer is, but what I do know is that this is special,” Jonathan said, decisively. “You’re special.”
Those words from Jonathan’s mouth… Speedwagon wanted more than anything to believe them, to embrace them as readily as he had Jojo last night. He looked up at Jojo finally, with a depth in his eyes that still couldn’t possibly convey how deeply he felt for the man. Should he give in and tell him how much he’d loved him all these years?
No, this was still too fragile, too new. How could it be expected to bear the weight of all that? Instead, he echoed Jonathan’s words back to him. “You’re special too. I’ve thought so from the start.” Now wasn’t the time to confess everything, but he could reveal that much, at least.
The guilt and anxiety evaporated from Jonathan’s face, and he smiled for the first time that morning. “Last night was the happiest I’ve felt in weeks, if you’ll believe it with all the blubbering I did. I can’t say what the future will bring... Probably for the first time in my life. Frankly, it’s a little terrifying. But you…” He glanced down, his eyes filled with tenderness at the memory. “You treat me with such care. I wasn’t lying, last night, when I told you how great you are. This morning, I realized I'd like to return some of that, if I could.”
He met Speedwagon’s gaze again. “I know I’m a mess right now… I’ll probably keep being a mess, to be completely honest. Even though you said you don’t mind that, I’ll understand if this isn’t what you want. I won’t ask for anything unfair. But I’d like to give this—you and I—a try, Speedwagon. What do you say?” He held his hand out, palm up. A question and an invitation.
“For you Jojo, I’d say yes a thousand times over.” For him, it was the only answer he’d ever give. He twined their fingers together, relishing in the way their two hands fit just right.
Jonathan seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, unable to keep his smile contained. With that settled, Jojo sat down in the seat across from him.
“I’m still so knackered, I don’t think I trust myself to make it to the station on foot. Let me call us a cab.” He pulled out his phone and began to dial. Speedwagon stayed staring, transfixed by how their hands remained linked together. Last night he’d thought such a feeling would only live on in his memories. But now, Jonathan squeezed tight, almost like he was afraid to let go.
He wouldn’t have to. Of course Jojo wasn’t out of the woods yet, but just like that day at the hospital eight years ago, Speedwagon made a silent vow to support him through it, no matter how this all turned out in the end. Only now, he would give him even more. He stroked his thumb gently over Jonathan’s knuckles. It was a wonder to be able to offer such comfort freely. Finally, after all this time, it felt right.
Jonathan hung up the phone, looking sheepish. “You can tell I haven’t been to the city much. They said there’s already one waiting right out front.”
In the light of day, he could see all the way to the depths of Jonathan’s blue eyes. They kept gazing at him with a giddy tenderness, and while they still held within them an undercurrent of pain, there was something else there too.
Jonathan stopped him as they stepped out onto the sidewalk.
“Last night… that isn’t the way I’d normally start a relationship, so… may I?” He laid a hand upon his cheek and it didn’t sear the way it had the night before. Rather, it was pleasantly warm like the sun.
“Of course,” Speedwagon said, ever charmed by the gentleman before him. The last thing he saw in those deep blue eyes before his lashes fluttered closed was a bright spark of joy.
Jonathan kissed him, soft and slow, and the spark awoke in Speedwagon’s own heart as well. He’d had last night, and he always would, but this… this was the sort of thing he’d been scared to even let himself dream about. And it was happening right here in broad daylight.
After climbing into the back seat of the waiting cab, the reality of their late night and early check-out finally caught up with Jonathan. With a yawn, he leaned his head down on Speedwagon’s shoulder. Nothing could match Speedwagon’s pleasure now as he put his arm around the gentleman, pulling him closer. When he carded his fingers through the man’s soft hair, Jojo let out a small sigh of contentment and settled an arm around his waist.
From the corner of his eye he glanced at Jonathan’s face. He looked weary, his eyelids drooping, but a small smile still graced his lips. Speedwagon rested his head against the other man’s. As they drove off, he was sure he could feel the beat of their hearts—matching up with one another, as if they were one. It didn’t feel like Jojo would be letting go any time soon.