Chapter Text
Fever has been consuming Diego for the last month since February. He feels his lungs burning from inside, making every breath painful and torturing. The symptoms are different, yet he knows well who is responsible for his suffering. He remembers Dario's last days well. “I killed him,” – his elder brother, Dio, told him that day, – “And you will be the next, if you stand in my way.” Of course Dio would try to kill his younger sibling to take all Joestars money only for himself. They spent their lives in the slums of London with a drunkard father, who killed their mother many years ago. Diego was just a baby back then, but for Dio it always was a traumatic and painful memory. Despite being the only one, who has been taking care of small Diego, he has never been a loving brother. Always keeping a distance, maybe even at some point blaming Diego for their mother's death. He has never spoken his mind up about that, keeping everything to himself. And Diego has never asked, he has been doing his best to survive.
But everything changed the moment they arrived at Joestars. Comfort, warm meal, servants – it was so addicting and mind-blowing. Dio indeed felt comfortable to change his life to luxury, Diego got his advantages too. Yet Diego felt out of place. Dio quickly became George’s favorite, pushing Jojo down to a lonely existence without any friends. Diego decided to not to be involved in his elder brother’s schemes, spending his days peacefully in stalls with horses. Whatever Dio plans to do with Joestars fortune, Diego wants to build a career as a jockey, relying only on himself without risking messing with Dio. But all his ambitions miserably fail as he lays in bed in a half consciousness condition.
Diego opens his eyes to see a cold gaze on himself. Dio looks at him without any pity in his blue eyes, just patiently waiting to become the single heir of Brando’s family. They don't exchange even a single word, but Diego wants to curse. To shout. To hit that similar arrogant face. Why did he let this happen? He needed to make the first step of getting rid of his brother, not to let him make a first fatal strike. But now it's too late to complain. He is glued to the bed, not able to talk or stand on his own.
Diego's body is so heavy that he can't move a finger. How long has he been like that? He has lost any trace of time, just waking up and falling back to sleep over and over again. The silk of bedsheets clings to his sweaty skin, while the air in his room is constantly full of the smell of herbs and bitter mixtures. Jonathan and George regularly visit with a doctor to look after him and check his condition. Diego doesn't remember all their conversations, yet Dio has always been there, playing the role of a good grieving brother, so worried about his little sick sibling. It was pissing Diego off. Once again he opens his eyes and meets the yellow gaze. Huh? His eyes were always blue, like Diego's, but now they look like gold mixed with blood. And why does Dio look at him that way? With confusion and hesitation… something is off, yet Diego has no life force to talk or even think too deeply about that. He closes his eyes and falls asleep with a heavy sigh, feeling someone's cold hand covering his burning forehead.
Suddenly within a few days Diego's condition became better. Well, it would be too bold to say that. At least, it stopped worsening. Dio sits near the bed, just reading a book silently. Diego lays on his back, staring at the ceiling. The heavy atmosphere in the room falls between them.
– You know, you could at least read aloud, – Diego states in a hoarse bored tone.
Dio turns another page, not even glancing at Diego. He continues to read in silence. Diego sighs in irritation, throwing stares at his brother from moment to moment. He doesn't like Dio being so silent and composed. Usually it brings terrible news and nothing more.
After a few boring weeks Diego finally stands up from the bed, even though George still tortures him by forcing to take more rest. Yet there is one thing Diego must do for his own mental stability: he needs to make sure he is safe. Diego sneaks into the kitchen, grabs a knife and puts it under his pillow. For some reason Dio starts to visit him more often, and Diego doesn't like it, so he needs a way to protect himself just in case. The paranoia is eating him up inside, and he cannot trust Dio. Not when he has tried to kill him.
– You are nervous, – Dio comments calmly, glancing at Diego. Another one meaningless visit, but it seems Dio finds his own amusement watching Diego dying from boredom.
– That's a fever, – Diego answers, looking away, but for the second returning his gaze on Dio.
– You didn't have a fever for a few days, should I call a doctor? – Dio speaks in a slow timbre.
– No.
Dio smirks, and that irritates Diego even more.
– Why do you come so often? – Diego asks him in a lower tone.
– Why not? Just checking on my little brother, – Dio says with a chuckle, turning the page of the book on his lap.
– I am not like Joestars, I won't buy your bullshit, – Diego hisses at him.
Dio lifts his eyes, grinning mischievously. They sit in silence for a few seconds, sensing how the atmosphere tenses with each second. Diego suddenly turns around, laying on his side with his back facing Dio. His hand lays under the pillow, keeping it comfortable under his head, but at the same time he makes sure the knife is accessible.
– I want some sleep, get out of here, – his grip on an improvised weapon tenses.
– As you wish, dear little brother, – Dio speaks with venom in his voice, standing up and closing his book, – but don't worry, big brother will watch after you.
Chill runs down Diego's spine. Dio has never called him like that or referred to himself as an elder brother. The boy manages to relax only when Dio leaves his bedroom.. Something is clearly wrong in this situation, and he needs to find exactly what.