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The night felt as heavy and restless as the dancers in the Joestar state. They held hands and swayed in the ballroom with their eyes almost closed and their skin pulsing with blood that didn't know where to go. Jonathan thought of them like butterflies asking a flower for a kiss. It reminded him of the dance the bugs did when spring came, excited at the thought of rain. People at balls always looked for something. They wanted to exchange a few words, and see the spark of love do its magic for the night to fold into wonder. The energy was high, and it pinched the skin right under his nose. It truly was like standing in the middle of a room full of mirrors. The smiles projected into the repetitions of himself would mix with the tones of the vague and eternally sad emptiness of a song born by violins. Jonathan was left wandering, left to dance with his own shadow as the music began to wane.
“This is my son,” His father’s voice held him to reality. He was talking to another merchant, a wealthy business partner who brought her daughter to the party. She was pretty, and well-groomed, with soft skin and curls hugging her cheeks. Her dress was a gorgeous tone of green and she was staring at him with a sense of hope Jonathan couldn’t reciprocate. He still nodded, gave a light bow, and greeted her as he was supposed to.
“Jonathan Joestar. My pleasure, madam.”
“Well, you two have to get to know each other.” The merchant said, lowering his head, giving his daughter the chance to get close to him. Jonathan had seen this multiple times, the urgency to get them to fall in love, to accept their destiny as pawns in the games of their fathers, and to echo that behavior to their children too. He was too aware of this role and was walking to it begrudgingly. There was little he could do to resist. He was a Joestar after all.
He walked to catch her hand and the scent of the sea at night beckoned upon him, like a beam of light coming from an oil lamp. It called his name and he didn’t want to listen. The gentle echo faded as they walked together to the center of the ballroom and caught on to the coordinated moves of the dancers. Despite her elegance, every move felt tense and brittle like the legs of a fawn touching the grass for the first time in its life. Jonathan wasn’t feeling like himself but danced as best as he could. His undertakings would be seen by his father, but the girl was giggling. He was at the very least, charming.
“My father has spoken to me about you.” She said, and Jonathan smiled down at her. She was small, so cute.
“Is that so? My father has too.” But he didn’t remember her name, her connections, or the things her father did for their business. His thoughts were somewhere else in the room, in the energy that hung around his shoulders. The scent came back to him again and he was left to wonder what was missing from the picture. It was like trying to find a pattern on still water. It was on the walls, on the floors, on the windows. It reflected uncomfortably with the weight of unconsummated want. It followed him like the eyes of the spider when it finds the fly, like the smell of thunder when it picks the spot where it will crack the floor and scorch the earth. It was all coming from a single point in the distance, cast from the eyes of a person he knew better than himself.
He had the gaze of improbability, pupils cast on the hot iron of hurt.
Dio.
He should’ve known. Dio’s eyes were constantly pushing through his skull as he found the things of him Jonathan didn’t even know he wanted. Dio was good at stirring the soil of his chest; he had never been afraid of getting his hands dirty with the mush that was Jonathan’s heart. It was no different now, with Dio pleasantly strolling around the area, looking at the pieces of Jonathan left on the floor to please his father. Those mirrors were broken, and they reflected the light off Jonathan’s hair.
They both knew how to dance around the edge, how to thread on the cliff of wonder and Dio followed on the sidelines as if he was going to be able to pull the blood from his veins. Thirsty for the gem of his attention, he wanted Jonathan to turn and see .
He did not, and suddenly, Dio was angry.
Was rage the only way he was going to make him understand? It wouldn’t be hard to step forward, pull the woman away and slide his own fingers between Jonathan’s. Their touch would shake the world, their dance would turn that last name into ashes. What does it matter, let it burn. He saw himself moving back towards the cliff, moving in order to make him react. He did not. It was infuriating to see how those women approached him with no self-decency, aiming to push their name into Jonathan’s heart, and the buffoon would let them dance and giggle against his chest, and for what? He was a beast imprinting his image in the minds of the women who could never have him. None of them did. Their money and friends would never buy them a spot by Jonathan’s side. It was a question of simple logic and facts. There was nobody in that ballroom who was meant to earn the Joestar name except for him.
This spot belongs to us. This music belongs to us.
Dio moved back and forth, staying away, but never too far. Jonathan felt him. He danced knowing his own hands burned at the thought of that stare, that the lady’s laughter felt cold and his steps became frail and unsure as if he wanted to trail back to the second his heart was ready.
Thankfully, the song ended and the lady’s time was done. She let go slowly, sliding her hand against his, the touch as intense as the color of her cheeks. Jonathan did not promise another song, but he did notice that Dio’s gaze was no longer around him and so the tension around his shoulders left him as a snake uncoils from the throat of a mouse. Many questions had to be asked, and the young bachelor excused himself, leaving the ballroom with soft apologies and nods as he slipped away, into the rooms of the Joestar manor.
To his surprise, he didn’t have to look for long.
He found Dio in a modest space mostly used for reading with his eyes perched on the window, staring at the lights of the party that guided the guests into their home. He had a drink in his hand, the bottle of scotch patiently waited to be touched again. Jonathan saw his lips reflected on the glass, like a bunny trying to sip the moon from a river. Even here, as his anger consumed him, he was still mysteriously handsome.
“If someone retires to a room alone, it is implied you should not follow.” Dio ended the silence, the sound of the ice clinging to the glass pulled Jonathan away from the dangerously alluring voice of his brother. He did not take his eyes away from that point in the distance, lines of candles and fireflies leading the way. “You forget your manners too quickly, Jojo.”
Jonathan closed the door and the sound seemed to have startled Dio, his eyes reacting to it as the lake vibrates to the stones thrown in its womb.
“You should be out there with me.” He said, taking a step forward and Dio bit his tongue.
Not with you. I am never with you.
His answer was far more bitter, the realness of his emotions would not surface that easily, not even as he drank the poison that made his mother this unhappy, the same liquid that had cursed his bloodline.
“I am not your servant.”
“Father will be upset if he notices.”
“And that is why you should go back to the ballroom, JoJo.” Dio turned towards him now. His smile was lovely, coated in the tin amber hue of whiskey. “Those ladies were eying you quite a bit. I even heard some of them whispering how handsome you were.” Jonathan was able to quickly understand the tone Dio was using on him. It was sweet but sharp, the spaces between the words were small knives aiming for the heart. They never missed. “Aren’t you a lucky boy, JoJo? Take your pick, they will rejoice.”
“Dio, it is our duty as his sons to...” Jonathan interrupted himself to give silence a chance. It was better to say nothing at all and hang on the brim of his emotions than to repeat the same excuse he performed in front of the mirror. Instead, he walked towards Dio. Those eyes were tracking him as he did so. He was looking at his chin, his lips...the early signs of hope chiseled on the corner of his gaze. They always gravitated toward each other like two big stars that were never meant to collide.
Jonathan wanted to leave his thoughts for another day and go back to his practiced soliloquies, but the music back in the ballroom was inviting, the night was lovely and the lights on the window reminded him of the night sky in summer like the one when he saw Dio for the first time under the moonlight.
It was a dream, and a curse, to have seen you as you’ve never seen yourself. Jonathan thought, sitting down close to Dio.
“You always want to make things difficult.”
Unlike what Dio knew of him, Jonathan had said too much without wanting to say much at all. His body was giving away the things he didn’t know how to express. Pathetic . Dio thought, and although he had always seen Jonathan’s open body language as a weakness, it was actually very cute. His chest widened when he laughed and when he was angered, his muscles pulsed differently. Entirely lovely, and truly fascinating. Dio saw a soft glow of hope, like the expenditure of the sea when it stretches to the sun to touch its rays and bask in its heat. He was made to be glorious. Dio wondered how selfish could it be to keep the sun for himself.
I am vile, but you want me anyway, Jojo. Dio thought, crossing his legs as he spoke. “Difficult? You’re the one who is too much of a bloke and can’t understand social cues.” The liquid in the glass had barely touched his lips when he spoke again. The smell of it reminded him too much of a part of himself that he wanted to kill. It did not surprise him that the memory came back at this time when Jojo’s presence mixed with the burn in his fingers laced themselves with the alcohol. Ghosts came back after melancholy had sept into the blood. “But please amuse me, Jojo. How exactly do I complicate things hmm?” He knew what he was doing, obsessing over Jonathan’s expressions, he waited and confirmed that his words were hitting right where he was intending to. “I want to hear your thoughts.”
“You know what I mean.” Like an animal, Jonathan sensed the anger, the solitude, the rage… the surprising longing coming from him. He seemed like a maiden waiting for someone at sea, powerless. Which one of them was supposed to be the sailor? He felt like the two of them were getting too close to the edge and he paused to pull himself back, to move away from the spot where Dio was waiting for him. White robes, red eyes. His presence would be a beacon under the senseless rain. He would take my hand while we fall from the cliff together. He would drink the blood from my head, he would hug me.
“It’s supposed to be simple, Dio. You’re meant to be out there, dancing, being someone else...You say you know and respect social norms and here you are, away from the crowd.”
Dio hissed. His words had stung.
Do not make me say why I am not there, JoJo. I will pull you with me to the bottom of the sea, I will pinch your skin so you don’t feel when the water crushes your bones. I will make sure you drown with me. With me, JoJo.
“Don’t make me laugh,” He choked on a huff, a fake laugh that sounded genuine enough. “Unlike you, I understand rhythm. You move like a bull, it’s honestly sad.”
Jonathan hung on his words but said nothing. He was aware of his limitations but did not know how to respond. He wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, imagine that his brother was going through a rough night and leave it at that, but the same thing bothering him back then was bothering him now. It hooked right under his ribs, creeping to grab a hold of his stomach and the pulse of his wild heart. Dio chuckled at his silence and stood up from his seat, the half-full glass forgotten on the table.
”Perhaps now it’s a good chance to demonstrate how it’s done.” He buttoned up his suit and didn’t have to touch Jonathan to make his eyes follow him as he moved to the middle of the small room.
“Lead, Jojo.”
Jonathan obeyed him without saying a word.
Dio reminded him of a statue covered in snow, abandoned in a town devoid of sunlight. He was posing with his immaculate stare, as severe as the thunder of metal when it crashes against another beam of its own blood…he was, in other words, beautiful. Jonathan grabbed his hand, his hips, and followed the music coming from down the hall, muted but strong enough to allow them to sway to the rhythm without missing out on the sound of each other’s breathing, the shuffle of their clothes as they danced. Their heartbeats were in sync and, the grace that Dio exuded became so real that Jonathan’s body shuddered. It was the closest they’d ever been and for once, he enjoyed this warmth, despite knowing it would eventually end.
“How am I doing?”
Jonathan saw the twitch on Dio’s nose. Was he blushing?
“You’re not half bad, for a bull.”
The music deepened their touch and the two of them found themselves comfortable in the way their skin was trying to peek from under their clothes. Dio’s fingers tightened around Jonathan’s shoulder. Would he be as tight as he seemed to be? Would his chest be warm? Would his bed smell like him? The ideas and scenarios ran through him like bunnies escaping a fox but they found their demise when the two of them stopped thinking and stared at each other.
Had there even been another road other than this? Jonathan thought as his steps felt lightweight and meaningless. If I must drown, let it be with you.
Their embrace felt as natural as the path the water makes when it runs down the mountain. The strength of nature overcame any false pretense of stability and in Jonathan’s mind, the simplicity of this fact had given him the comfortable understanding that this was meant to be. He pressed his hand against Dio’s small waist. He had caught him in the way the shadows caressed a plant, and he hadn’t understood that Dio’s touch on his shoulder was as possessive and absolute as the grasp of a lynx on its prey.
Despite them knowing that their dance would be scandalous, neither of them dared to stop it. They were a single body, a single mind aiming to merge. They wouldn’t even notice when their heart beat to one stream of blood, an aorta of mixed feelings palpitating to the waltz playing in the ballroom.
“Get closer.”
There was eagerness in Jonathan’s tongue. His eyes were convinced to understand the gleam in Dio’s eyes and his powerful hands were quiet as his companion obeyed him. The blonde did as he asked and their faces pushed for a connection from where they knew, there was no going back.
“Why, you look like you know what you’re doing for once.”
They were about to give in, to hold on tight and jump down towards the water. They wouldn’t escape from it, at least not alive. Drowning would be glorious like this, holding Dio’s hand, feeling his pulse disappear into his own and become the creature they both would love to be. What else would they need besides the push of insanity that would pull them away from the life that they were supposed to lead?
Dio touched his neck. He surrounded it with both hands and despite the way Jonathan flinched, he did not stop. He swayed and kept their steps steady although they were not listening to the music anymore. They were focused on each other’s lips, on the promise this imprudence would birth. How many times did he have to tell himself that they could be what they wanted to do?
How many times were too many? How many days would have to pass before the two of them just gave in?
It felt like barely a second. Red and intense, Dio’s gaze throbbed as their lips chased a kiss. They were slow about it, enjoying the tension of their breathing, of their muscles twitching to stay in place. Then, it happened, the first contact of skin against skin, their needs being presented to them as holy water, as food coming from God’s hands. There were two paths now, and despite the urge that pulled him to deepen the kiss, to pick the small waist that had welcomed him and embrace the water… Jonathan didn’t.
He pulled away, cutting short the moment of glory that they both enjoyed. He nervously played with his fingers and stared at the other side of the room as he refused to acknowledge the pain in Dio’s eyes. He had moved away from the cliff, and left Dio there, standing with his arm extended towards him. He had refused the cold water of sin, of freedom. He had preferred the warmth of a future that would never fill him. He turned and walked towards the door with the pulse of his heart screaming at him from his throat.
He saw Dio then. There was no anger, no sadness, no rage only the pure and unmistakable expression of unimaginable hurt and betrayal. They had each other, they had believed that their touch had been true and there they were, in a more complicated spot than before, shocked by the ease with which they would’ve let everything go to melt together.
“I will see you later, Dio.” Jonathan was brave enough to have the last word and left the small room behind him. He turned back as the door closed, and saw the blonde with a hand on his chest, the ache of a thousand swords craving something in his heart. Jonathan felt them too, the sting of frustration etched into the very core of his being. He could not, would not give in.
The touch of Dio’s hand did not disappear during the whole night, and no lady was able to fill in the emptiness it left, no matter how much they smiled and commented on Jonathan’s ability to dance, he could only picture the sensation of Dio’s small back and the heaviness of his hand on his shoulder. It felt wrong to try to see him through the faces of those women, thinking of them as if they wore masks, hiding the true face he wanted to see. In the room he had left, Dio sat back down on the sofa and refused to drink. The alcohol would wash away Jojo’s breath on his lips. It was a fool’s mistake, to believe that a touch could be that powerful but he would wait at the edge. When Jonathan understood that the scent of water was better than living in a world where the things they wanted didn’t have a name yet, Dio would push him without missing a beat.
The music played, and the ball kept harboring the hunger of dancers in its chest, but on the other room, on the small world they had left their hearts open, their ghosts would keep dancing along the tunes of what was meant to be.
And that, for now, had to be enough.