Chapter Text
Jonathan’s father, George Joestar, was about to set off on a business trip. This very morning, the horse-drawn carriage was already waiting in the front yard, and the thirteen-year-old boy was struggling hard to keep his feet from instinctively stepping forward and throwing himself against his father’s chest. He clearly wanted to cry, but he restrained himself by simply crossing his knees and biting his lip.
It was a different story with his adopted brother; he stood calmly, his brow occasionally furrowing—no, it was naturally furrowed; it was always sharply arched. His lips were straight and expressionless, but in truth he was hiding a sly grin. He wanted to laugh at the pitiful behaviour of that overly spoilt biological son.
Go on, have a good cry and give your dear papa a hug, Jojo.
“A… A…” his nose twitched, letting out a few snot-drops that only made his face look more repulsive. He took a step closer to the middle-aged man in front of him. “Father… are you really leaving?” he asked.
George smiled faintly and placed his right hand on Jonathan’s head, ruffling his hair.
“Be good at home. Danny’s here,” he said, glancing at the white Great Dane with black patches circling his legs. He stroked it briefly before looking away.
“…and Dio.”
Jonathan froze, but he suppressed a gasp and merely glanced sideways behind him. There stood a boy his own age, smiling calmly. Realising he’d been called, he waved.
“……”
Ever since he first arrived, Jonathan hadn’t been sure whether it was a good idea to get involved with him. No, the very thought of them becoming close in the future was simply impossible. Dio had kicked his beloved dog the first time they spoke. He’d also hit him, pulled his ear, and worst of all—stolen his crush’s first kiss.
He remembered jumping over the fountain just to bash his head, and that succeeded in humiliating him until he was sobbing. However, as always, his father always turned up at the wrong time and he was often blamed. Jonathan was never able to expose his petty behaviour, because his own father placed great trust in Dio.
And now he was supposed to spend time alone with him for about two weeks? No way! Jonathan had already decided to run off to school, a choice that was the complete opposite of what most kids his age would do.
Now the coachman cracked his whip, and the gallop of the two horses in front sent up a cloud of dust that Jonathan pushed aside. He chased them until he was outside the gate, and stopped at the edge of the house, panting.
The servants approached him and told him to come inside. As he passed Dio, that sly grin flashed briefly. Jonathan kept staring at him until he reached the entrance.
And sure enough, that malicious intent surfaced just as Jonathan was about to resume his research on the bird skull by the riverbank. Dio was sitting on his desk, fiddling with the sheets of paper containing all of Jonathan’s notes from the past month, folding them into paper planes and flinging them out of the window.
“Hey! Stop that!” Jonathan lunged forward, but tripped over the leg of a stool and ended up falling. His head struck a teacup, shattering it. Shards of white porcelain scattered everywhere; some cut his skin, whilst the rest fell to the floor. To make matters worse, the contents spilled out, staining the red carpet that had only just been washed.
“Tsk tsk, you’re so clumsy, Jojo. Are you ever going to grow up?” remarked Dio, finally climbing down from the desk.
Jonathan whimpered as he picked shards from his flesh. Red fluid oozed from the wound, dripping and further soiling the carpet. He trembled at the memory of his butler's anger the previous week, when the man had burst into his room carrying a pair of pyjamas caked in mud—the result of his nocturnal habit of scavenging for bird carcasses.
Dio chuckled, feeling a sense of satisfaction at seeing the boy beneath him crawling like a dying caterpillar. His right hand then reached for a shiny, flat, round object.
“I’ll take this, then. It’s a shame such a beautiful thing is rarely used by you.” His lips pursed, and he whistled as he swung the antique pocket watch back and forth. He left the room and casually closed the door behind him.
“Manners, young master.” Admonished the elderly butler beside him. Jonathan stiffened, and with a pout, he reached for the knife to slice the meat. His hand was immediately swatted away.
“Do you intend to cut the potatoes with that knife? Goodness, use a fork, young master!”
Jonathan grimaced. He felt like complaining, but to whom? Even if his father were here, it would make no difference. In fact, his father was even stricter when it came to table manners.
Both his hands clenched his pants beneath the table. In front of him, five knives and five forks of varying sizes were neatly arranged on either side of his plate, and each had its own specific function. Trying to memorise them all was making Jonathan’s head spin. The poor boy just wanted to eat.
He glanced at Dio, who was also enjoying his meal, hoping for a clue. Apparently Dio noticed his gaze and stopped eating. Strangely, he then gestured towards Jonathan’s third fork. Jonathan decided to follow his lead and picked up the fork in question. As he speared his potato with it, his eyes darted towards the smiling butler.
Is this right? But Dio might just be playing a trick on me again. For now, I’ll play along.
He followed the gesture a second time, choosing the smallest knife. Then a fork again; by the third attempt, nothing had gone wrong. Even the butler clapped, thinking he was finally taking it seriously. Jonathan felt a mix of joy and suspicion. He finally plucked up the courage to break the fourth instruction.
Dio told him to take the third fork in the row. Jonathan disobeyed and took the largest fork. The butler beside him then tapped his hand, sighing and shaking his head.
“Now I know. Was it young master Dio who told you?” Jonathan’s heart was pounding wildly. He was sweating and clamped his mouth shut, not knowing what to say. Dio couldn’t hold back his laughter and ended up roaring with laughter, his hand slapping the armrest of the chair.
“Goodness! How foolish! You know, Jojo, if you’re going to break the rules, at least make a rational choice! Are you seriously eating a small piece of potato with a fork that big?!” he teased, wiping away the tears streaming down his face.
Jonathan’s blood boiled at the taunt—more so at himself for having unconsciously done something so foolish, especially in front of their butler. Losing his temper, he slammed the table, sending glasses of water spilling everywhere. Dio glared and retaliated by yanking the tablecloth Jonathan was clutching, pulling him forward so his face slammed into Dio’s plate. He sneezed as pepper flakes flew into his nose, causing his snot to spray onto Dio’s white shirt. Dio shrieked and was about to hit him, but was stopped by their butler.
“Enough! No afternoon snacks for you two! Now, back to your rooms!” he barked.
Jonathan’s fists clenched; he still wanted to beat Dio up, but the thought of the box of petit fours his father had given being locked away in the larder made him hesitate. He unclenched his fists and bowed his head.
Dio was the first to regain control of his emotions. He merely snorted, then turned and left the dining room.
The day was still long. It was only lunchtime and things were already in such a mess. Jonathan felt a sudden headache coming on and didn’t want to tell the butler, but he’d already decided to spend the rest of the day sleeping in his room.
His biological mother was the only person Dio loved. Every afternoon or evening, he would slip away from the Joestar residence, carrying a single rose to place upon the old dress spread over his mother’s grave.
It was he who had laid it there on the day of his mother’s funeral, weeping in despair as he dragged the pale pink cloth over the earth that buried her body. His father had gone off to who knows where. After the final prayers, he vanished with a bottle of liquor, skipping his own wife’s burial. Dio swore he would slit his father’s throat right away.
His father’s abuse and extreme poverty made Dio hate humanity. Though he himself was human, he could not equate his status with theirs. Ever since losing his mother, he had hoped to transform into another creature. A cat, or a squirrel… or perhaps mythical creatures like vampires—anything but a dog. They are disgusting.
All his life he crawled on mossy streets; playing chess for a shilling or letting a few men in the pub touch his body—just touch, it was worth a pound. When he joined the Joestar family, his heart seethed at how innocent and happy Jonathan’s life was, like a sheet of music containing nothing but major keys. He was driven not only to seize the Joestar family’s inheritance, but also to teach Jonathan a lesson in life where, in the end, he would be rewarded with his suffering face.
Now, having accepted the same fate, Dio decided to read a book in his room. What was annoying was that his room was next to Jonathan’s. That spoilt brat sometimes snored too loudly in his sleep, and Dio had to cover his ears with a pillow, which left him feeling suffocated in the morning.
And then there was Danny, that wretched dog, who sneaked in every night. Dio was annoyed by the paw prints soiling the carpet outside his room. His collar should be fastened every time Jonathan goes to sleep, but what on earth is that boy thinking? He deliberately loosens the strap so Danny can break free and sleep on his bed, giving him the excuse that Danny did it itself so he won’t be blamed.
Never mind, when father comes home, I’ll tell him. He trusts me. He muttered as he turned to the next page. The book he was reading was about law. He was usually very interested in the subject, but today’s events had dampened his enthusiasm. After just five pages, he closed it again and let his head fall onto the soft pillow. His eyes fixed on the white canopy above; gradually his gaze faded and drowsiness overtook him.
He fell asleep too.
.
.
.
“Dio…”
“……”
“My dear son…”
“……”
Dio refused to open his eyes. He knew this was a dream. His mother was dead.
He lay still for a moment. There was no harm in letting the woman stroke his forehead, praising how beautiful her son’s face was. He heard it the first time he was born into the world, at the age of six, and then on his last day with her.
He kept his eyes closed, until the voice slowly grew heavier and hoarser. It no longer sounded close, but several metres away, slightly muffled by something like wood.
“Dio, it’s time for dinner!”
Dio jolted awake. He sat up too quickly, making his brain feel as if it was being pierced. Slightly dazed, he turned his head towards the partially open door of his room, spotting a blue-haired boy peering through it. The boy’s expression was reluctant. Both knees were pressed together as if he desperately needed to go to the toilet.
It was Jonathan, waiting for an answer. But Dio noticed something else. He quickly opened his stolen pocket watch and stared in shock as the short hand pointed to seven. He’d fallen asleep and missed the evening bath, realising the smell of his armpits was wafting upwards. Tossing aside the bedsheet, he darted past Jonathan to lock himself in the bathroom before their butler could scold him.
Jonathan stood there dumbfounded and only came to his senses when his shoulder was touched by the old man who had been scolding them earlier that afternoon. He merely nodded his head in response to his questions.
Tomorrow is Monday. Time for school.
Previously, they had been home-schooled by Jonathan’s father, but as his schedule grew increasingly busy, he decided to send his children to a public school. He didn’t hire a private tutor because he realised his children also needed to socialise.
Jonathan and Dio didn’t mind. In fact, they were delighted to make so many friends and, well… split into two groups. The neutral group for Jonathan and the other group consisting of Dio’s admirers. They caused all sorts of trouble, mainly to annoy Jonathan. But Jonathan wasn’t too bothered. At school, he had a defender of the truth who was a master of words, easily resolving issues and gaining the teachers’ trust, so lately those mischievous children haven’t dared to bother him.
Compared to at home, he was alone. Alone facing Dio. Alone facing all his insults. Alone struggling to win back his father’s trust. He had no true supporter apart from Danny. That’s why Jonathan preferred being at school.
That night, Jonathan eagerly packed his textbooks into his bag, occasionally stroking Danny’s head as he sat beside him. On the other side of the partition wall, Dio was grumbling. After a few seconds biting his nails, he slammed one of his textbooks down and kicked in the air while cursing. Five precious hours lost to oversleeping had his blood boiling. Half-awake, he blamed Jonathan’s pocket watch for bringing the curse.
After packing his school things, Jonathan stood up and walked over to the partition wall. Taking a deep breath, he let it out in a shout. It didn’t reach his father’s room, but it certainly reached Dio’s ears.
“Good night!
Dio didn’t answer.