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The sun had dipped low, painting the race track in streaks of gold and orange, but Gyro wasn't done yet. He sat cross-legged on the curb, nudging Johnny to join him with a grin that was both conspiratorial and a little mischievous.
"Alright, Johnny," Gyro said, his eyes sparkling, "today's lesson is... comedy. You need this. Your face hasn't seen a proper smile in... what, weeks?"
Johnny scowled, leaning against his bike, arms crossed. "I don't see how this is going to help me beat anyone."
Gyro's grin widened. "Ah, but it's not about beating anyone. It's about surviving the ride without looking like a walking graveyard!" He tapped Johnny's shoulder. "Now, watch carefully."
He cleared his throat, struck a dramatic pose, and delivered his joke with the solemnity of a Shakespearean actor:
"Why did the tomato turn red?"
Johnny blinked. "...Because it saw the salad dressing?" he guessed, hesitantly.
Gyro erupted into laughter, nearly toppling over. "Close, close! But no. The correct punchline is: 'Because it couldn't ketchup!'" He doubled over, tears of mirth glinting in his eyes.
Johnny groaned, rubbing his face, a faint pink creeping across his cheeks. "That's... awful."
"Exactly!" Gyro said, still chuckling. "Awful is the point! Now, you try. Repeat after me: 'Why did the—'"
Johnny sighed and took a deep breath. "Why did the tomato—turn red?"
Gyro's grin nearly split his face in half. "No! You have to sell it! Emotion! Drama! Like your life depends on the punchline!"
Johnny frowned, tried again. "Why did the tomato... turn... uh... red?"
Gyro clutched his stomach, laughing so hard he nearly toppled sideways into the track. "Ohhh, Johnny! You're terrible! Terrible, but... kinda adorable!"
Johnny's face heated further, but for the first time in weeks, he laughed. A real, shaky, a little embarrassed laugh that made Gyro grin like he'd won the lottery.
"See?" Gyro said, nudging him gently. "That's it. That's the smile. Not perfect, not polished... but alive. That's all life needs sometimes."
Johnny looked away, cheeks still flushed, and quietly admitted, "I... I forgot what it felt like to feel... normal."
Gyro leaned closer, voice softer now, almost conspiratorial. "You didn't forget, Johnny. You just needed a little... practice."
Johnny's heart fluttered unexpectedly as Gyro brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead. The air between them shifted, warm and electric, like sunlight filtering through autumn leaves. Without thinking, Gyro leaned in and pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to Johnny's lips.
Johnny froze, then melted into it, the taste of laughter, sunlight, and something entirely new washing over him. When they pulled back, both were smiling—really smiling—finally.
Gyro winked. "Lesson complete. And next time, we tackle knock-knock jokes."
Johnny laughed again, softly, a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the sun.