Chapter Text
Steel Ball Run had ended two years ago, but for Johnny Joestar it felt like the race had never truly ended. Every single day still felt like another endless part of the journey, except now there were no cheering crowds, no horses running beside him, and no Gyro Zeppeli laughing somewhere close enough for Johnny to hear. The world had moved on while Johnny remained trapped inside memories that refused to die. In the beginning, after the race ended, Johnny truly believed he could rebuild himself. He thought he would finally live peacefully after surviving so much pain and violence. He imagined a simple life far away from bloodshed and competition. Sometimes he imagined buying a quiet little house somewhere in the countryside where nobody knew the Joestar name. Other times he imagined starting a family and finally becoming someone better than the broken person he had been his entire life. For the first time in years, Johnny had allowed himself to dream about happiness. Meanwhile, everyone else seemed to achieve exactly that. Gyro Zeppeli returned to Italy like the hero he was always meant to be. Johnny heard stories about him through newspapers and old connections. Gyro had married a beautiful woman from Naples and started a family soon after returning home. A son was born only months later, and according to rumors, Gyro looked happier than ever before. Hot Pants had also found peace in her own way. She returned to the church and slowly rebuilt herself after everything she had suffered. She finally forgave herself for the sins that haunted her for years. Funny Valentine was the only person who truly lost everything. His death had been terrible, but nobody could deny he deserved it after all the destruction he caused. Killing him had nearly destroyed everyone involved, yet in the end, the world moved forward without him. Everyone found closure somehow. Everyone except Johnny Joestar. The years after Steel Ball Run slowly destroyed him piece by piece. The glory he once carried disappeared completely. The fame faded. The money disappeared. Even worse, the loneliness grew unbearable. Johnny realized very quickly that surviving something horrible did not guarantee happiness afterward. Sometimes surviving only meant you had to continue carrying pain longer than everyone else. Every night he lay awake staring at ceilings that were not his own, wondering where his life had gone wrong. Maybe it started when Nicholas died. Maybe it started much earlier. Johnny could no longer tell. He only knew that somewhere along the way, he stopped believing he deserved a happy ending at all.
Diego Brando remained the name Johnny could never escape no matter how much time passed. Even years after the race ended, simply hearing that name was enough to make Johnny feel cold inside. Diego Brando had become exactly the kind of man Johnny always feared he would become — powerful, rich, admired, and untouchable. Newspapers called him a champion, a genius jockey, and one of America’s greatest rising stars. Women adored him, wealthy businessmen respected him, and politicians invited him into their homes as if he were royalty. To the rest of the world, Diego Brando was a perfect success story. But Johnny knew the truth hidden underneath the expensive suits and charming smiles. He remembered the boy who worked in the Joestar stables years ago, the boy with cruel eyes who always carried hatred deep inside his heart. Johnny and Diego had known each other since childhood, and even back then Diego treated him terribly. Diego mocked him constantly, humiliated him whenever possible, and made Johnny feel weak every chance he got. After Nicholas died, everything in the Joestar family collapsed, and Diego disappeared from their lives for years. Then fate forced them together again during Steel Ball Run. The race turned their rivalry into something darker and far more personal. Johnny understood quickly that Diego would do absolutely anything to win. Money, fame, power — none of it mattered more than feeding Diego’s endless ambition. After the race ended, Diego climbed higher and higher while Johnny fell lower every year. Rumors about Diego spread everywhere. Some people said he manipulated rich investors. Others whispered that he married an elderly woman only to inherit her fortune after her mysterious death months later. Johnny believed every terrible rumor because they sounded exactly like something Diego would do. Deep inside, Johnny hated Diego more than anyone else alive. Yet at the same time, he could not stop thinking about him. Sometimes Johnny wondered if Diego ever thought about him too. Maybe not. Diego was the kind of person who only looked forward, never backward. Meanwhile Johnny remained trapped in the past, haunted by memories that refused to leave him alone. Whenever Johnny saw Diego’s face printed in newspapers, smiling confidently beside wealthy elites, he felt something ugly twisting inside his chest. Rage, jealousy, bitterness — perhaps all of them together. Diego represented everything Johnny failed to become. He had wealth, admiration, and influence while Johnny had nothing left except regret. That truth hurt more than Johnny wanted to admit. No matter how much he despised Diego Brando, part of him envied him too, and that realization filled Johnny with shame every single time it crossed his mind.
Johnny Joestar’s promise to himself eventually became nothing more than another broken dream buried alongside countless others. He promised himself that after Steel Ball Run ended, he would finally become stronger emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. He believed the race changed him into someone capable of surviving anything. But reality proved far crueler than Johnny expected. George Joestar never forgave him for Nicholas’s death, no matter how many years passed or how much Johnny suffered afterward. Their relationship remained cold and distant until it eventually became almost nonexistent. Johnny always felt like a ghost inside his own family. After the race ended, whatever little financial stability he possessed slowly disappeared. Expenses piled up faster than opportunities appeared. Soon enough, Johnny found himself completely broke. At first he tried surviving honestly. He searched desperately for jobs, offered riding lessons, and even considered returning to horse racing professionally. But his reputation was complicated, and many people viewed him as unstable after everything that happened during Steel Ball Run. Day after day, doors closed in his face. Eventually he lost the small apartment he rented and ended up sleeping outside for several nights. Those nights nearly destroyed him psychologically. Winter air cut through his thin clothes while hunger twisted painfully inside his stomach. Johnny considered asking Gyro or Hot Pants for help countless times. He even wrote letters he never sent. But pride stopped him every single time. He could not bear the idea of them seeing him reduced to this miserable state. Johnny feared pity more than hatred. Being hated at least meant people saw strength in you. Pity meant they saw you as broken beyond repair. So instead of asking for help, Johnny isolated himself completely. The loneliness consumed him little by little until his thoughts became darker every week. Sometimes he sat alone for hours staring at crowds of strangers walking through busy streets, wondering how everyone else managed to continue living normally. He began believing happiness simply was not something meant for him. Maybe tragedy followed the Joestar family forever. Maybe he was born doomed from the very beginning. Every failure pushed him closer toward hopelessness until eventually survival became more important than dignity. Johnny hated admitting that truth even to himself. He spent years trying to become someone respectable again, but life constantly dragged him backward no matter how hard he fought. At some point exhaustion replaced determination entirely. Johnny stopped dreaming about the future because imagining happiness only made reality hurt worse. All he focused on now was surviving another day somehow, even if survival forced him into choices he once swore he would never make under any circumstance.
The moment Johnny finally crossed the line into prostitution was not dramatic or sudden like people imagined. There was no single night where everything changed instantly. Instead it happened slowly, painfully, after weeks of desperation and fear. Hunger eventually destroys pride faster than anything else. At first Johnny only considered the idea because he had no alternatives left. He spent countless nights arguing with himself internally, wondering if he truly could go that far just to survive. Every part of him hated the thought. He wanted to believe he still had standards left somewhere inside him. But standards meant nothing when he could barely afford bread. Eventually desperation won. The first time felt humiliating in ways Johnny could barely describe afterward. He avoided looking at himself in mirrors for days. He convinced himself it would only happen once, just enough to survive temporarily until something better appeared. But temporary solutions often become permanent before people realize it. Weeks turned into months. Slowly Johnny became trapped inside a life he despised deeply. The place where he worked was crowded almost every night. Most workers there were women much older or more experienced than him. Johnny stood out immediately because men rarely worked there, especially someone with his appearance. At first many customers ignored him entirely, unsure what to make of the quiet blond man sitting silently in corners avoiding eye contact. But eventually attention started growing. One of the women working there told him one evening, “You’re beautiful, Johnny. People notice that.” He did not understand her words immediately. Johnny spent his whole life feeling inadequate and unwanted, so hearing something like that felt almost unreal. Over time, however, he understood exactly what she meant. More customers started requesting him specifically. Men who once ignored him began staring longer whenever he entered rooms. Johnny hated every second of it. He hated the fake smiles he forced onto his face. He hated the touches from strangers. Most of all, he hated himself afterward. Sometimes after finishing with customers, Johnny sat alone in bathrooms staring blankly at the floor for long periods without moving. The disgust inside him became overwhelming. Yet despite everything, he continued because he needed money desperately. Survival trapped him inside a cycle he could no longer escape easily. Every night chipped away another piece of his identity until Johnny barely recognized himself anymore. He remembered being a famous jockey once, remembered racing across America beside Gyro under endless skies. Compared to that life, this existence felt unbearable. Yet somehow this was his reality now. While everyone else from Steel Ball Run found peace or purpose, Johnny found himself here, surviving through shame he could never fully wash away no matter how hard he tried.
Some nights were worse than others. Johnny learned quickly that loneliness inside that world was different from ordinary loneliness. Even surrounded by people constantly, he still felt completely isolated. Conversations there rarely meant anything real. Customers arrived searching for comfort, distraction, or pleasure, but none of them truly cared about the people they used for those moments. Johnny became skilled at pretending emotions he no longer felt. He learned how to smile convincingly, how to laugh quietly at unfunny jokes, and how to make strangers feel wanted even while feeling emotionally numb himself. The performance exhausted him more than the physical aspect ever did. After long nights, he often wandered through empty streets alone before sunrise because returning immediately to his tiny rented room felt unbearable. Those walks became the only moments where Johnny could think clearly without someone touching him or demanding something from him. During those silent mornings, memories always returned strongest. He remembered Gyro’s laughter echoing across desert landscapes during the race. He remembered the feeling of freedom while riding horses at full speed. He remembered believing, even briefly, that he could become someone better. Those memories hurt now because they reminded him how much he lost. Sometimes Johnny caught himself wondering what Gyro would say if he saw him now. Would he try helping him? Would disappointment appear in his eyes? Johnny feared that possibility more than anything else. He could survive cruelty, hatred, or violence, but disappointment from someone he respected would destroy him completely. So he kept his life hidden from everyone connected to his past. Nobody knew where Johnny Joestar disappeared after Steel Ball Run ended. To the world, he simply vanished quietly. Occasionally customers recognized his name, especially older men familiar with horse racing. Those moments filled Johnny with unbearable shame. Hearing strangers speak excitedly about his former achievements while seeing what he became afterward felt almost cruel. Some customers even treated him differently after realizing who he was. A few looked fascinated, as if sleeping with a fallen celebrity amused them somehow. Johnny despised those men most of all. Yet despite everything, a small stubborn part of him still survived beneath the misery. Some nights he stared out windows imagining escape. Maybe one day he could leave this city entirely. Maybe somewhere far away he could start over again under a different name. Those thoughts were foolish fantasies, but they kept him alive during his darkest moments. Without hope, even false hope, Johnny knew he would completely collapse eventually. The tragedy was that every year surviving became harder while hope became weaker. He felt himself slowly turning into someone colder and emptier than before. Sometimes he worried Diego Brando had already won long ago without Johnny realizing it. Diego achieved power and success while Johnny lost everything meaningful about himself piece by piece until almost nothing remained except bitterness and exhaustion.
Despite everything, Johnny still carried deep anger inside him, especially whenever Diego Brando’s name appeared again in newspapers or conversations around the city. Diego’s success felt impossible to escape because America adored him completely. Every few months another article praised his wealth, intelligence, or racing achievements. Women called him charming. Businessmen called him brilliant. Society viewed him as the perfect symbol of ambition rewarded through hard work. Johnny wanted to laugh bitterly every time he heard people praise Diego as some kind of self-made hero. Nobody knew the real Diego Brando behind closed doors. Nobody saw the cruelty hidden beneath his perfect smile. Johnny knew because he experienced that cruelty personally since childhood. Diego always treated kindness like weakness. He manipulated people naturally and destroyed anyone standing between him and success without hesitation or guilt. Sometimes Johnny wondered if Diego even possessed a conscience at all. The thought that someone so terrible could achieve everything while better people suffered endlessly made Johnny feel sick. Yet part of him also blamed himself. Maybe Diego succeeded because he never hesitated. Maybe the world rewarded cruel people more than honest ones. Johnny hated thinking that way, but his own life seemed proof of it. One rainy evening, Johnny overheard wealthy customers discussing Diego at the establishment. They talked excitedly about another property he purchased in Manhattan and joked about how unstoppable he had become financially. Johnny sat silently nearby pretending not to listen, but hearing Diego’s name repeatedly made his chest tighten painfully. For one brief moment, Johnny imagined confronting him again after all these years. He imagined standing face to face with Diego and forcing him to see what became of him afterward. But deep down Johnny already knew Diego probably would not care at all. That realization hurt more than hatred itself. Johnny’s suffering meant nothing to people like Diego Brando. Eventually the customers left while Johnny remained sitting alone in darkness long afterward. Rain tapped softly against windows while smoke filled the room around him. In moments like those, Johnny felt older than he actually was. The exhaustion inside him reached beyond physical tiredness. It felt spiritual somehow, like life itself had drained every meaningful part of him slowly over time. Yet even then, despite all the pain, Johnny continued waking up every morning. Maybe survival itself became a habit impossible to break. Or maybe some hidden part of him still hoped things could change eventually. He did not know anymore. All Johnny Joestar understood was that the race never truly ended for him. Steel Ball Run followed him everywhere, living inside his scars, memories, and regrets permanently. The finish line everyone else crossed successfully remained forever out of Johnny’s reach, no matter how desperately he once tried to chase it.
Johnny sat quietly near the corner of the room, his fingers weakly resting against the arm of his wheelchair while loud voices and laughter filled the building around him. Smoke floated through the air so heavily that it almost hurt to breathe. Men walked in and out constantly while music played softly somewhere far away in the background. None of it felt real to Johnny anymore. Every day inside this place felt exactly the same. The same fake smiles. The same touching hands. The same disgusting feeling sitting deep inside his chest afterward. Sometimes Johnny wondered if he was even alive anymore or if this was some kind of punishment waiting after death. His eyes stayed locked on the floor while his thoughts drifted far away from the room around him. He thought about Steel Ball Run again, like he always did during quiet moments. He remembered sunlight across the desert and horses running beside him. He remembered Gyro’s loud laugh and the way the wind felt against his face during races. Those memories almost felt like dreams now. It was hard to believe that Johnny Joestar — the real Johnny Joestar — had once existed at all. That person felt dead now. Buried somewhere deep inside his own mind where nobody could ever reach him again.
Before Johnny could sink deeper into his thoughts, he suddenly heard footsteps coming closer. Slow footsteps. Heavy footsteps. Johnny already knew who it was before looking up. His stomach tightened immediately.
Francesco.
Johnny hated that man more than almost anyone else in this city. Francesco only cared about money. Nothing else mattered to him. Not pain. Not dignity. Not people. As long as money kept flowing into his pockets, he smiled like everything in the world was perfect. Johnny learned that quickly during his first month working there. Francesco treated every worker inside the building like products sitting on shelves waiting to be sold. Some people tried getting close to him for protection or better pay, but Johnny never bothered. He could barely stand hearing the man speak.
“Well now, JoJo, how ya doin’ tonight?” Francesco asked with a fake smile spreading across his face while stepping closer.
Johnny almost flinched hearing that nickname.
JoJo.
Right. People here called him that now. Johnny had almost forgotten. Nobody called him Johnny anymore. Not for a long time. It had been nearly a year since someone used his real name naturally. A whole year since he started working in this place. One long miserable year. Sometimes it scared him how easily people could lose themselves. Johnny Joestar used to be famous once. People screamed his name from crowds. Newspapers printed stories about him constantly. Now he was just “JoJo” inside some filthy building where strangers paid to touch him for a few hours.
Johnny forced a small smile onto his face even though it felt painful.
“I’m doin’ alright, I reckon… How ‘bout you, Mister Francesco?” Johnny asked quietly.
His voice sounded tired. Always tired.
Francesco grinned wider before pulling out a chair and sitting across from him. “Me? Oh, I’m wonderful tonight. Wonderful,” he said happily while fixing his expensive rings with one hand. “Business is good. Very good.”
Johnny stayed silent.
Francesco leaned forward slightly. “Ya know, I still can’t believe how many people ask for ya even with those legs not workin’ right. Honestly, it surprises me.” He chuckled softly like the comment was funny. “But hey, money’s money.”
Johnny felt his jaw tighten slightly, but he kept smiling anyway. He learned long ago not to react. Reacting only made things worse.
“Tonight’s real special though,” Francesco continued. “A man came earlier askin’ only for you. Five whole hours.” He held up his hand dramatically. “And get this — he paid double what anybody’s ever paid before in this place. Ain’t that somethin’?”
Johnny blinked slowly.
Five hours?
That was a long time. Too long.
Francesco leaned back comfortably while crossing his legs. “Fella didn’t even give his name neither. Just handed over the money without complainin’. Rich kinda guy. Definitely rich.” His smile slowly became uglier. “So if ya do a real good job tonight, I might give ya a little extra cash. More than usual.”
Johnny swallowed hard. His throat suddenly felt dry.
“Okay…” was all he managed to say quietly.
For a moment, silence filled the space between them. Francesco seemed pleased with himself while Johnny’s thoughts started racing again.
Who was this man?
Johnny tried thinking if he recognized the description somehow, but nothing came to mind. Maybe it was some rich businessman visiting the city. Maybe some strange fan who discovered Johnny Joestar worked here now. That happened sometimes. Former horse racing fans occasionally recognized him after staring long enough. Some became excited. Others became uncomfortable. Johnny hated both reactions equally.
Or maybe this customer was just another lonely rich man wanting company for one night.
In the end, did it really matter?
They were all the same eventually.
Every customer walked through those doors wanting something from him. Some wanted comfort. Some wanted control. Others only wanted to satisfy curiosity. None of them actually cared about Johnny himself. They cared about the fantasy standing in front of them. A broken famous jockey reduced into this miserable life. Some people found that exciting.
Johnny hated them for it.
Francesco finally stood up again, brushing dust from his expensive coat. “He’ll be here soon, JoJo. Try lookin’ a little happier when he arrives, alright?” he said with another fake smile. “Rich folks like pretty smiles.”
Johnny gave a weak nod. “Yeah… sure.”
After Francesco walked away, Johnny sat there quietly again. His fingers tightened slightly against the wheelchair arms while noise echoed around him. Five hours. The thought alone already exhausted him.
Part of him wanted to leave.
Part of him wanted to disappear completely before that man arrived.
But where would he go?
Johnny slowly lowered his head, staring blankly at the wooden floor beneath him. He felt empty again. Completely empty.
Somewhere deep inside his mind, buried underneath all the shame and exhaustion, Johnny Joestar still existed faintly. Barely alive. Barely breathing.
But “JoJo” was the only person left the world could see anymore.
One of the girls suddenly walked up to Johnny with excited steps and a bright smile on her face. “Come on, JoJo! Let’s start getting you ready!” she said happily, almost yelling from excitement. Johnny slowly looked up at her after hearing her loud voice echo through the room. Was this really something to be excited about? He honestly could not understand it. Maybe people who stayed in this place long enough stopped thinking deeply about these things. Maybe pretending this life was normal made it easier to survive. Johnny only gave a quiet nod before following her down the hallway with his wheelchair. The girl led him into a smaller room filled with warm lights and large mirrors covering the walls. After closing the door behind them, she handed him a soft white nightgown. It almost looked more like a dress than sleepwear. The fabric looked smooth and gentle in her hands. Surprisingly, it was not revealing at all. Actually, it covered almost everything. Johnny stared at it silently for a moment before changing into it without saying much. After he finished, the girl sat down in front of him and softly said, “Come a little closer.” Johnny rolled himself closer slowly, and that was when he noticed the small makeup tube resting in her hand. Light blue lipstick. The second Johnny saw the color, something painful twisted softly inside his chest. A weak, bitter smile appeared across his lips before he could stop it. It was the exact same color he used to wear during his younger years… during horse races… back when he was still Johnny Joestar. For a few quiet minutes, the girl carefully applied the lipstick while humming softly to herself, completely unaware of the memories filling Johnny’s mind. He remembered cameras flashing in front of him, crowds cheering loudly for him, sunlight shining across race tracks, and the feeling of freedom before everything in his life fell apart. Once she finally finished, Johnny slowly turned his wheelchair toward the mirror nearby. He did not look at his body. He could not. Instead, his eyes focused only on his face staring back at him through the reflection. For one painful moment, he almost looked like his old self again. Not “JoJo.” Not the broken man trapped inside this place. Johnny Joestar. The famous jockey. The boy who once believed his life still mattered. Johnny stared silently at his reflection while his chest tightened painfully. Then a soft whisper reached his ears from behind him. “You look amazing.” Johnny blinked and finally pulled himself out of his thoughts before forcing another small smile toward the girl. “Thank ya,” he mumbled quietly, though the sadness in his eyes never disappeared.
Johnny slowly pushed himself down the long hallway with his wheelchair, the soft sound of the wheels rolling across the expensive floor echoing quietly around him. The closer he got to the room, the tighter the feeling in his chest became. Everyone inside the building talked about this room sometimes. The most expensive room. The room almost nobody ever used because barely anyone could afford it. Johnny had passed by the door many times before, but he had never once entered it himself. Usually only politicians, rich businessmen, or people with disgusting amounts of money rented it for private nights. Francesco always treated the room like some kind of holy place because of how much money it brought him whenever someone actually booked it. Tonight, though, Johnny was the one being sent there. The thought alone made him feel strangely nervous. As he finally reached the large golden door, he paused for a second before slowly pushing it open. The room inside was beautiful in a way that almost hurt to look at. Everything around him looked expensive beyond imagination. Gold decorations covered nearly every corner of the room. The walls had soft golden patterns running across them while expensive candles flickered warmly nearby. Even the bed looked enormous, covered in smooth fabric and shining decorations. The entire place looked more like a palace room than something inside a dirty building like this. Johnny slowly rolled further inside while quietly looking around himself. For a moment, he almost forgot where he was. He could not even remember the last time he had been somewhere this expensive. Maybe back when he still lived with George Joestar. Maybe during the years when he was famous and rich and the world actually cared about him. Honestly, Johnny could not remember anymore. Those memories felt faded now, like old dreams slowly disappearing over time. He kept silently studying the room while feeling completely out of place there. Everything looked too clean. Too beautiful. Too perfect for someone like him. Johnny suddenly became painfully aware of the soft white nightgown covering his body and the light blue lipstick still resting on his lips. He hated how vulnerable he felt sitting there alone inside such a luxurious room. The silence around him only made the nervousness worse. His fingers tightened slightly against the wheelchair arms while his thoughts slowly drifted again. Who was this man exactly? Why would someone pay such a ridiculous amount of money just for him? Johnny tried convincing himself not to care. Customers were customers. Nothing more. But something about tonight felt wrong somehow. Heavy. Strange. Like the air itself inside the room carried tension waiting to snap at any moment.
Johnny continued staring quietly around the room until the sudden sound of the door opening behind him shattered the silence completely. The loud creaking noise pulled him out of his thoughts immediately. His shoulders stiffened slightly. Someone had entered. For a second, Johnny did not move at all. He almost did not want to turn around. Maybe because some part of him suddenly felt afraid without understanding why. Slowly, forcing himself to move despite the heavy feeling in his chest, Johnny turned his head toward the doorway behind him. The second his eyes landed on the figure standing there, his entire body froze instantly. His heart stopped so violently it almost hurt.
Diego Brando.
Johnny could only stare in complete shock while the young man stood calmly near the doorway wearing familiar jockey clothes, almost like no time had passed at all since Steel Ball Run ended. Diego looked exactly the same as Johnny remembered him. Beautiful in the cruelest possible way. Blonde hair shining softly beneath the golden lights. Sharp eyes filled with confidence and amusement. Perfect posture. Perfect smile. Everything about him radiated wealth, control, and power. Johnny felt like the entire room suddenly became too small to breathe inside. For a long painful second, neither of them moved. Diego simply looked at him quietly, studying Johnny’s face carefully. Then slowly, almost cruelly, a dark smile spread across Diego’s lips after seeing Johnny’s shocked expression. That smile alone made Johnny’s stomach twist painfully. It was the same smile Diego always wore whenever he knew he had power over someone. Johnny could physically feel his eyes beginning to burn. Panic, humiliation, anger — too many emotions crashed into him at once. How had Diego found him? How was this even possible? Johnny spent an entire year disappearing from the world, burying himself inside this disgusting place where nobody important would ever think to search for him. Yet somehow Diego Brando was standing right there in front of him like a nightmare dragged out from the deepest part of his past. Johnny suddenly became aware of everything about himself all at once. The wheelchair. The nightgown. The lipstick. The room. Shame flooded through him so violently he almost felt sick. Out of everyone in the world, Diego was the last person Johnny ever wanted seeing him like this. Anyone else would have been easier. Anyone. But Diego? Diego Brando standing there looking down at him while dressed in clean expensive jockey clothes felt almost unbearable. Johnny could not even hide the jealousy burning inside him anymore. Diego still had everything. Fame. Wealth. Beauty. Success. Meanwhile Johnny sat trapped inside this room looking pathetic and broken beyond repair. The difference between them had never felt more painful than it did right now.
Johnny’s thoughts spiraled wildly while he stared at Diego in complete disbelief. His mind desperately tried understanding the situation, but nothing made sense. Why was Diego here? Why would someone like him even enter a place like this? Diego could have anyone he wanted. Rich women threw themselves at him constantly according to newspapers and gossip articles. Powerful people admired him. Entire crowds loved him. So why was he here? Why was he looking at Johnny like that? The realization slowly started sinking deeper into Johnny’s chest until it became impossible to ignore anymore. Diego was the mysterious customer. Diego was the man who paid double the usual amount just to spend five hours alone with him. The thought made Johnny feel physically ill. His hands tightened harder against the wheelchair while humiliation crawled painfully through every part of him. Was this some kind of joke? Some cruel game Diego decided to play for entertainment? Johnny could already imagine Diego laughing about this afterward. The famous Johnny Joestar reduced into selling himself inside filthy rooms for money. Diego probably found the situation hilarious. Of course he would. Diego always enjoyed seeing Johnny beneath him. Always. Memories from their childhood flashed painfully through Johnny’s mind. Diego mocking him near the stables. Diego humiliating him during races. Diego constantly looking at him like he was weak. That expression had never changed. Even now, standing inside this beautiful room, Diego still looked completely in control while Johnny felt like he was drowning. Johnny wanted to say something. Anything. Anger burned inside his throat, begging to escape. But no words came out. He simply stared back silently while his chest rose unevenly beneath the soft white fabric covering him. Diego’s eyes slowly traveled across Johnny’s appearance, noticing every painful detail carefully. The lipstick. The nightgown. The wheelchair. Johnny felt exposed beneath that gaze in a way he absolutely hated. It felt like Diego could see every broken piece hidden inside him now. The worst part was knowing Diego probably understood exactly how humiliating this moment felt for Johnny. And somehow, that made it even worse. Johnny suddenly wished he could disappear entirely. The old Johnny Joestar — the proud jockey who once fought beside Gyro across America — would have rather died than be seen like this. But that version of Johnny barely existed anymore. Diego’s sudden appearance forced him to face that truth directly for the first time in months. He was no longer the man he used to be. And judging by the dark amusement shining inside Diego Brando’s eyes, Diego realized that immediately the second he walked through the door.
Johnny did not say a single word after seeing Diego standing there. His whole body felt stiff while his mind struggled to understand what was happening. His heart was beating so hard it almost hurt. Out of everyone in the world… it had to be Diego Brando standing in front of him tonight. Johnny hated how weak he suddenly felt. Hated how nervous his hands became against the wheelchair arms. Hated the fact he wanted to look away but physically could not force himself to do it. So instead, he stayed quiet and waited for Diego to speak first. Even that alone felt humiliating somehow. Diego slowly stepped further into the golden room while keeping his sharp eyes locked directly onto Johnny the entire time. The sound of his boots against the polished floor echoed softly through the silence. Then slowly, that familiar cruel smile spread wider across Diego’s face.
“Well, well… look at our little Joestar,” Diego said smoothly while walking closer toward him. His voice sounded calm, amused, almost entertained by the entire situation.
Every step Diego took made the fear inside Johnny grow worse. Johnny instantly cursed himself for feeling that way. Why the hell was he scared? Why did Diego still have this kind of power over him after all these years? Johnny hated it. Hated himself for it too. But Diego always knew exactly how to make him feel small. That had never changed.
Diego’s eyes slowly moved across Johnny’s appearance again. The white nightgown. The lipstick. The wheelchair beneath him. Johnny felt exposed beneath that stare in the worst way possible. Like Diego was carefully studying every broken piece of him one by one.
Then Diego finally spoke again.
“So this is what became of you?” he asked softly before tilting his head slightly. “You turned into a little prostitute?”
Normally that word would not have hurt Johnny anymore. He heard worse things almost every night inside this place. Customers said disgusting things constantly. Francesco said cruel things daily. After one whole year working here, Johnny had learned how to survive words without reacting much. But hearing Diego say it like that — with that mocking little smile and that amused tone in his voice — hurt far worse than Johnny wanted to admit. It felt less like an insult and more like Diego was crushing whatever little pride Johnny still had left.
Johnny swallowed hard while staring up at him. He could physically feel tears threatening to burn behind his eyes, and that terrified him more than anything else. Crying in front of Diego would be unbearable. Absolutely unbearable. Johnny forced himself to stay still while digging his nails painfully into his palms underneath the fabric of the nightgown.
Because if Diego told anybody about this…
Everything would be over.
Gyro would find out eventually. Hot Pants too. His father. Old racing fans. Everybody connected to Johnny’s past would eventually hear the truth. They would find out Johnny Joestar spent the last year selling himself inside dirty rooms for money. They would look at him with pity. Maybe disgust too. The thought alone made Johnny feel sick.
And Diego knew it.
Johnny could already see it inside those sharp green eyes. Diego understood exactly how much power he had over him right now. That was the worst part.
Johnny finally forced his mouth open, trying desperately to say something back, anything at all. But the second he tried speaking, no words came out. His throat felt tight. He immediately shut his mouth again while lowering his eyes for a brief second in frustration. God… this was humiliating. Diego stood there looking rich, confident, beautiful — like somebody straight out of a dream — while Johnny struggled just to breathe normally sitting there dressed like this.
After another painful silence, Johnny swallowed again before finally managing to speak quietly.
“How… how’d ya find me, Diego…?”
His voice came out softer than he wanted. Weaker too.
Johnny hated that immediately.
But even after asking the question, fear still sat heavily inside his chest because part of him already knew this conversation was only beginning, and somehow that terrified him far more than anything Diego had said so far.
Diego smiled coldly, and there was something deeply mocking hidden behind that smile. It was the same expression Johnny remembered from years ago, the same cruel little grin Diego always wore whenever he knew he had complete control over someone. The golden lights inside the room reflected softly against Diego’s sharp features while he stared down at Johnny sitting frozen in the wheelchair. “How did I find you, Joestar?” Diego repeated slowly, his British accent calm and smooth as poison. Then he gave a quiet laugh beneath his breath before tilting his head slightly. “Wait, wait… perhaps I shouldn’t call you Joestar anymore.” His smile widened cruelly. “Perhaps I should call you a prostitute instead.” The second those words left Diego’s mouth, Johnny slowly shut his eyes. He could not stop the tears anymore. Warm tears slipped down his cheeks quietly while he lowered his head in complete humiliation. God, this was so humiliating. Why did it have to be Diego? Why could it not have been literally anyone else in the world? Johnny could survive strangers looking at him like this. He could survive disgusting customers and cruel comments. But Diego seeing him here, dressed like this, reduced to this kind of life — it felt unbearable. Johnny hated himself for crying. Hated the weakness in his chest. But the shame was crushing him alive. The moment Diego noticed the tears falling down Johnny’s face, he laughed softly again. Not loudly. Not kindly either. It was the kind of laugh that made Johnny’s stomach twist painfully. “Oh, now you’re crying too?” Diego asked mockingly while stepping closer. “You do realise how filthy this is, don’t you?” Johnny stayed silent. He could not even force himself to look at Diego anymore. His hands shook slightly against the wheelchair while tears continued sliding quietly down his face. What was he supposed to say? Diego was right. That was the worst part. Johnny knew exactly what he had become. Every night inside this place made him hate himself more. Every stranger touching him for money chipped away another piece of his pride until almost nothing remained anymore. Diego simply happened to be the first person from his old life to finally see it with his own eyes. Johnny’s chest tightened painfully while memories flashed through his head again. Steel Ball Run. Gyro’s laughter. The feeling of racing freely beneath the sunlight. Back then Johnny believed he still had a future. Now he sat inside a golden room wearing a white nightgown while Diego Brando looked down at him like something pathetic. The silence between them stretched painfully long before Diego finally spoke again, his tone colder now. “Finding you wasn’t easy,” he admitted while slowly walking around the room. “At first I thought you were dead. Honestly, that seemed more believable.” Johnny’s breathing quietly shook while listening to him continue. “But then I came to this town for business…” Diego paused briefly before glancing back toward him. “And suddenly I started hearing your name.” His eyes narrowed slightly with amusement. “Although strangely enough, everyone here calls you JoJo.” Johnny slowly lifted his head after hearing that. His eyes were red now, his face burning with humiliation. Then finally, with visible pain written across his expression, Johnny forced out a bitter little smile. “So the first thing ya thought about was sleepin’ with me?” he asked sharply, his southern accent heavier from emotion. The question made Diego stop moving completely for a moment.
For several long seconds, Diego simply stood there staring at Johnny in silence. The golden room suddenly felt far too quiet. Johnny could hear his own heartbeat again, loud and painful inside his ears while tears continued drying against his skin. Part of him instantly regretted speaking at all. Diego’s expression became unreadable for a brief moment, and somehow that felt even more dangerous than the mocking smiles. Johnny still refused to fully look at him, but he could feel Diego’s eyes studying him carefully from across the room. Then slowly, that same irritating smile returned to Diego’s face again, calm and sharp like a knife. The sight of it immediately made something twist inside Johnny’s chest. Diego looked completely unaffected by any of this. Completely comfortable. Like he belonged in expensive rooms like these while Johnny clearly did not. “You always did have quite the mouth on you, Joestar,” Diego said smoothly after the silence stretched long enough to become uncomfortable. His voice sounded almost amused again now. Johnny hated how calm he sounded. Hated how composed he looked while Johnny himself felt like he was falling apart piece by piece. Diego slowly loosened his gloves while keeping his eyes fixed directly on Johnny the entire time. Every movement looked controlled. Deliberate. Confident. Johnny suddenly became painfully aware of how vulnerable he looked sitting there in the wheelchair while Diego stood tall over him dressed in perfect jockey clothing like some wealthy prince stepping out of a magazine photograph. The difference between them had never felt more humiliating. Johnny wanted to say something cruel back. Wanted to scream at him. Wanted to ask why he was really here. But fear sat too heavily inside his throat. Because no matter how cruel Diego acted, Johnny still understood one terrifying truth — Diego held power over his entire life now. If Diego told anyone about this place, about what Johnny became, everything would collapse instantly. Gyro would know. Hot Pants would know. His father would know. The entire image of Johnny Joestar would rot publicly until nothing remained except shame. Diego understood that perfectly. Johnny could see it in the way he looked at him. Like a predator staring at wounded prey too exhausted to escape anymore. Johnny’s fingers tightened harder around the wheelchair arms while trying desperately not to cry again. God, he hated this. Hated Diego. Hated himself more for letting Diego affect him this badly after all these years. The room suddenly felt suffocatingly warm around them. The gold decorations, the expensive candles, the enormous bed nearby — all of it made Johnny feel trapped somehow. Then finally Diego stepped a little closer again before speaking in a calm voice that sounded more like an order than anything else. “Get on the bed.” Johnny’s entire body stiffened immediately after hearing those words. Diego did not raise his voice. He did not need to. The command itself already carried enough cold authority to make Johnny’s stomach tighten painfully. For a second, Johnny simply stared at him silently, almost hoping he misunderstood somehow. But Diego only looked back at him with that same awful smile resting calmly across his face. Johnny suddenly felt smaller than ever sitting there beneath Diego’s gaze. Smaller than he had during Steel Ball Run. Smaller than he had during childhood. Smaller than every humiliating moment of the past year combined. And the worst part was knowing Diego could clearly see exactly how terrified and ashamed he felt right now.
Johnny slowly bit down on his lower lip while looking up at Diego, and the second he did, the smile on Diego’s face suddenly disappeared. The change was instant. Diego’s expression did not soften exactly, but something inside his eyes shifted sharply for a brief moment while he stared back at Johnny in silence. Johnny quickly looked away again, swallowing hard while forcing himself to focus on the large bed in front of him instead. His chest felt painfully tight. God, this was humiliating. Slowly, he pushed his wheelchair closer toward the bed until the front of the chair lightly touched the side of the mattress.
“Pathetic,” Diego murmured coldly from behind him.
Johnny heard him clearly. Of course he did. But he chose not to react. Chose not to answer. If he let every cruel word get to him tonight, he would completely fall apart before this even truly started. So instead, Johnny forced himself to keep moving. Usually when customers came here, they helped him onto the bed themselves. Some carried him carefully. Others acted gentler once they noticed his condition. But Diego Brando was not one of those people. Diego would never help him out of kindness. Johnny already knew that.
Johnny shut his eyes briefly and tried pushing the thoughts away before they swallowed him whole. Diego paid for this. That was all this was. A transaction. Nothing more. He repeated those words inside his head desperately like they would somehow make the shame hurt less. Slowly, Johnny grabbed onto the blankets tightly with shaky fingers before trying to pull himself upward onto the mattress. The movement was awkward and exhausting. His arms trembled slightly from the effort while the soft white fabric of his nightgown slowly slid higher against his thighs the more he struggled upward. Johnny immediately felt heat rise into his face.
Because he could feel Diego staring.
Not at his face.
At his legs.
Johnny could physically feel Diego’s eyes dragging slowly across the exposed skin of his smooth pale legs while he struggled onto the bed. The realization made his stomach twist painfully. He hated how vulnerable he felt beneath that stare. Hated how exposed he suddenly became inside this giant golden room. But worst of all, he hated the fact his body reacted automatically to Diego’s attention. His heartbeat grew uneven while nervousness crawled painfully beneath his skin. Finally, after another difficult moment of dragging himself upward awkwardly, Johnny managed to settle onto the bed properly. His breathing came out quieter and shakier than before while he adjusted the fabric down over his legs again as much as possible.
Then slowly, Johnny looked back toward Diego.
And immediately regretted it.
Because there was something inside Diego’s eyes now that made Johnny’s chest tighten instantly. Hunger. A terrible kind of hunger. Sharp and intense and almost frightening beneath Diego’s calm expression. Johnny froze slightly beneath that look while Diego slowly stepped closer toward the bed without breaking eye contact for even a second. The mattress dipped softly as Diego finally sat down near him. Close. Far too close.
Johnny suddenly became painfully aware of everything around him at once.
The warmth of Diego’s body sitting nearby.
The smell of expensive cologne clinging softly to his clothes.
And beneath that… the faint familiar scent of horses.
Johnny’s stomach twisted strangely at the smell. Diego must have come directly from jockey practice or the stables before arriving here. The scent brought back memories so quickly it almost hurt physically. Race tracks beneath the sunlight. Dirt flying beneath galloping horses. Wind against his face during Steel Ball Run. For one horrible second, Johnny almost forgot where he was entirely.
But then Diego shifted slightly closer again.
Too close now.
Johnny could feel warmth radiating from him. Could hear the quiet sound of his breathing in the silence of the room. Their faces were only inches apart now, and Johnny’s entire body had gone tense without him realizing it. He hated this closeness. Hated the effect Diego still had on him after all these years. Yet no matter how badly Johnny wanted to pull away, part of him remained completely frozen beneath Diego’s gaze instead.
“How many men have there been now…?”
„How many came inside of you?“ Diego asked quietly. There was something strange hidden inside his voice when he said it. Something Johnny could not fully understand no matter how hard he tried. It did not sound like simple curiosity. It did not even sound fully mocking either. There was something heavier underneath it. Something sharp. Johnny frowned silently while swallowing hard. His hands tightened slightly against the sheets beneath him while he tried not to look away again. “Don’t know,” he answered honestly after a long pause. His southern accent sounded tired and rough. “Stopped countin’ after a while.” The second those words left Johnny’s mouth, Diego gave a cold little laugh beneath his breath. “So that many men, then,” he murmured mockingly while leaning back slightly against the bed. “You truly are the biggest whore I’ve ever seen, Joestar.” Johnny flinched slightly at the insult even though he tried hiding it immediately afterward. Diego noticed anyway. Of course he did. He always noticed every weakness. “What did you feel while lying beneath all of them?” Diego continued coldly. “Did you feel ashamed? Empty? Or did you eventually stop caring entirely?” Johnny’s jaw tightened painfully while heat rushed into his face again. The room suddenly felt too warm. Too small. He hated these questions. Hated the way Diego looked at him while asking them. Like he was trying to tear him open emotionally piece by piece. “Shut up,” Johnny muttered quietly at first. But then finally he forced himself to really look directly at Diego again. Anger flashed through his exhausted blue eyes for the first time in a while. “Ain’t that why yer here too, Dio?” Johnny snapped bitterly. “So just do what ya came here fer an’ get the hell outta my face already.” The room instantly became silent afterward. Johnny’s breathing sounded uneven while he continued staring directly at Diego without looking away this time. For a moment, Diego simply looked back at him quietly. Then slowly, that awful smile returned to his face again. Calm. Cold. Dangerous. “Truthfully speaking…” Diego began softly while his eyes slowly drifted downward toward Johnny’s lips. The pale blue lipstick still remained there, slightly smudged now after Johnny bit down on them earlier. Diego stared at Johnny’s mouth for several long seconds before finally lifting his gaze back toward his eyes again. “I’m going to ruin you,” Diego said quietly. His voice sounded frighteningly calm now. “I’m going to destroy whatever little part of you still remains.” Johnny’s expression faltered slightly after hearing that. Diego’s words confused him more than they should have. There was so much hatred inside them. So much intensity. Johnny struggled understanding where all of it came from. Slowly, painfully, Johnny gave a weak bitter smile. “Ain’t much left of Johnny Joestar anymore,” he whispered quietly. “So don’t worry ‘bout that.” Diego stared at him after hearing those words. Really stared at him this time. The mocking smile slowly faded from his face while silence filled the room once more. Neither of them spoke for a long while afterward. Johnny eventually lowered his eyes again toward the blankets underneath him, unable to hold Diego’s gaze any longer while the heavy silence between them continued swallowing the room whole.
“Speak to me the same way you speak to the other men,” Diego said coldly. The sentence hit Johnny harder than he expected, and for a second he completely froze. His blue eyes widened slightly while he stared at Diego in silence. Speak to Diego Brando like that? The thought alone made shame crawl painfully beneath Johnny’s skin. Slowly, he bit down on his lower lip again while his eyes drifted away toward the door across the room instead. He could not even look at Diego properly anymore. His chest felt tight, almost painfully tight. God, this was humiliating. But then Johnny reminded himself of the same thing he kept repeating over and over tonight like some desperate prayer. Diego paid for this. Diego came here for this. Nothing about tonight was real. It was just another job. Just another rich man wanting something cruel from him. Yet somehow this felt so much worse than the others ever had. Maybe because this was Diego. Maybe because Diego knew him before everything fell apart. Knew him before he became this broken version of himself. Diego noticed Johnny’s silence immediately and gave another faint mocking smile. “What’s wrong?” he asked smoothly, tilting his head slightly. “Embarrassed now?” Johnny’s fingers tightened harder into the blankets beneath him. Diego’s voice remained calm, but every word felt sharp enough to cut skin. “You weren’t embarrassed lying beneath all those other men, were you?” Diego continued quietly. “So how did you speak to them?” His green eyes stayed locked onto Johnny carefully, intensely. “Hm? What did you call them?” Johnny swallowed hard while heat spread violently across his face. He hated these questions. Hated the way Diego asked them so calmly like he was peeling apart every humiliating piece of Johnny’s life one by one. “And what sort of fantasies did they have?” Diego added softly afterward, almost amused now. Johnny immediately looked down again, unable to hold eye contact any longer. Shame twisted painfully inside his stomach while memories he desperately tried forgetting pushed themselves back into his head. Different rooms. Different voices. Different strangers touching him while pretending he was something pretty to own for a few hours. Johnny hated every memory. Hated the fact Diego was forcing him to think about them now. The silence stretched painfully long while Johnny struggled to breathe normally. He could physically hear his own heartbeat again. Finally, after another few unbearable seconds, Johnny slowly forced himself to lift his head toward Diego again. His eyes looked exhausted now. Tired beyond words. He shut his eyes briefly one last time like he was trying to throw away the humiliation before finally speaking in a quiet broken murmur. “Come closer t’me.” The second those words left Johnny’s mouth, Diego froze completely. Genuine surprise flashed across his face for the first time since entering the room. Johnny immediately hated himself after saying it out loud, but it was already too late now.
For several long seconds, Diego simply stared at Johnny in complete silence. The golden candlelight flickered softly around them while tension filled every corner of the room. Johnny could feel his own face burning from embarrassment after hearing his own words out loud. God, this was degrading. The old Johnny Joestar would have rather died than speak like this to anyone — especially Diego Brando. But that version of him barely existed anymore. Diego slowly leaned back slightly while studying Johnny’s expression carefully, and then finally a grin spread across his face again. This time it looked different somehow. Sharper. More satisfied. Like seeing Johnny this broken gave him some horrible sense of victory. “There you are,” Diego murmured softly, almost under his breath. Johnny immediately looked away again after hearing that. His hands trembled slightly against the sheets while he tried focusing on literally anything else in the room besides Diego’s face. But it was impossible. Diego’s presence filled the entire space around him completely. The smell of expensive cologne mixed with horses still clung faintly to him, and somehow that familiar scent made Johnny’s chest ache worse. Diego slowly moved closer toward him again without breaking eye contact this time. Johnny could feel the mattress shift slightly beneath their weight the nearer Diego got. Too close again. Far too close. But Johnny no longer had the strength left to pull away. He stayed still while Diego carefully watched every little reaction crossing his face. “Look at you,” Diego said quietly after another moment. “You really did let the world destroy you.” Johnny’s jaw tightened immediately after hearing that. “World didn’t need much help,” he muttered bitterly beneath his breath. Diego heard him anyway. Of course he did. A soft amused sound escaped Diego before he slowly reached forward and tilted Johnny’s chin upward slightly, forcing him to look directly at him again. Johnny instantly tensed beneath the touch. His breathing became uneven while his blue eyes met Diego’s green ones again from only inches away now. “You know what’s fascinating?” Diego asked quietly while staring at him intensely. “Even after all this… you still look at me exactly the same way you used to.” Johnny’s expression faltered slightly. “Don’t flatter yerself,” he whispered back weakly. Diego smirked faintly at that answer, though his eyes remained dangerously focused on Johnny’s face. “Still stubborn,” he murmured. “Even now.” The room fell quiet again afterward except for the faint sound of rain outside the windows. Johnny could barely think straight anymore. Everything about tonight felt unreal. Diego finding him. Diego sitting here beside him. Diego looking at him like this after all these years. Johnny hated him. He truly did. But beneath that hatred sat something far uglier and more painful that Johnny refused to fully face. Diego slowly leaned closer again until Johnny could feel his breath softly against his skin. “Tell me something honestly, Joestar,” Diego said quietly. “When you imagined your life falling apart… did you ever imagine it would end with you begging men to come closer to you like this?” Johnny’s face immediately twisted with humiliation again while his eyes dropped downward toward the blankets beneath him. And Diego… Diego only kept staring at him with that same awful satisfied smile resting calmly across his face.
Johnny did not answer Diego’s question at all. He could not. If he opened his mouth right now, he was afraid something ugly and broken would come out instead of words. So instead, he slowly reached forward with trembling hands and pulled Diego closer toward him by the front of his shirt. Diego looked genuinely surprised for half a second, his sharp green eyes widening slightly before that familiar smirk returned to his face again. Johnny hated how easily Diego recovered his composure. Hated how calm he looked while Johnny himself felt like he was barely holding together. Johnny swallowed hard before leaning closer toward Diego’s ear, close enough to smell the expensive cologne mixed with the faint scent of horses still clinging to him. “Want me sittin’ on top of ya?” Johnny murmured quietly, his southern accent soft and rough at the same time. The words felt humiliating coming out of his mouth, but he forced them out anyway. Diego stared at him for a long second after hearing that before letting out a low amused laugh beneath his breath. “You truly are a filthy little whore,” Diego said coldly, though there was something darker hidden underneath his voice now. Johnny’s jaw tightened slightly after hearing the insult again, but this time he did not look away. “Yer the one who paid fer me fer a few hours,” Johnny muttered bitterly back without thinking. That answer immediately made Diego’s expression sharpen with interest. For a second neither of them moved. Then slowly Diego leaned backward against the bed, watching Johnny carefully like he was studying every little reaction crossing his face. Johnny’s heartbeat became painfully loud inside his chest again. He hated how intense Diego’s gaze felt. Hated how vulnerable it made him feel sitting here dressed like this beneath those eyes. But he forced himself forward anyway. Slowly, awkwardly, Johnny shifted himself closer toward Diego’s lap. The movement was difficult because of his legs. His arms trembled slightly while trying to support himself enough to move properly across the soft mattress. Diego remained completely still underneath him, silently watching the struggle without offering help. Of course he wouldn’t help. Johnny already knew that. The effort made Johnny breathe unevenly while the soft white nightgown slowly slid higher and higher against his thighs during the movement. By the time he finally managed climbing onto Diego’s lap properly, the fabric had ridden dangerously far upward, exposing far more skin than Johnny wanted. Heat immediately flooded across his face from embarrassment. He could physically feel Diego staring at him again. Not at his face. At his body. At his exposed legs pressed awkwardly against him now. Johnny tried ignoring it while forcing himself to settle more comfortably despite how difficult the position felt with his weak legs. Finally, after another strained movement, Johnny managed to sit fully in Diego’s lap. The second he did, Diego’s hands slowly moved onto his hips first before sliding lower. Johnny instantly tensed beneath the touch. His breath caught slightly while Diego’s hands settled heavily against him possessively, fingers pressing firmly through the soft white fabric. Johnny swallowed hard again, unable to stop the nervous reaction running through his body. The closeness between them now felt overwhelming. Diego’s warmth surrounded him completely while the smell of cologne and horses filled Johnny’s senses stronger than before. For a moment Johnny almost forgot how to breathe properly. Slowly, uncertainly, Johnny leaned closer toward Diego again until their faces were only inches apart. His blue eyes looked exhausted beneath the candlelight now, filled with shame, anger, and something far more fragile hidden underneath both. Meanwhile Diego simply stared back at him with that same dangerous hunger burning quietly inside his green eyes while his hands remained firmly resting against Johnny’s body like he already owned him completely.
Johnny finally crashed his lips against Diego’s harshly. There was nothing soft about it. Nothing loving. It felt angry, bitter, almost violent with how much emotion Johnny shoved into it. Diego Brando did not deserve softness. He did not deserve gentle affection after everything he had done to him over the years. For a brief second Diego seemed surprised by the sudden movement, but then he immediately kissed Johnny back just as roughly. His hands grabbed Johnny harder, pulling him even closer against him while refusing to let him move away. Johnny’s eyes shut tightly while the anger and humiliation burning inside his chest mixed together painfully. The kiss only grew rougher between them until suddenly Diego forcefully turned Johnny beneath him against the bed. The movement broke the kiss apart immediately, leaving both of them breathing heavily in the golden silence of the room afterward. Johnny stared up at him with exhausted blue eyes full of anger while strands of blond hair fell messily across his face. “When this is over,” Johnny breathed out sharply, his southern accent rougher now from emotion, “yer gonna fuckin’ leave… an’ I ain’t ever gonna see ya again.” Diego stared down at him for a moment before slowly smiling again. But this smile looked colder now. Crueler. “Oh, Joestar,” Diego murmured quietly, his British accent smooth as poison. “You’re forgetting something.” Diego leaned slightly closer toward him while one hand pressed firmly beside Johnny’s head against the mattress. “If I wanted to,” he whispered calmly, “I could buy this entire place tomorrow.” His green eyes stayed locked onto Johnny’s face carefully. “Everyone inside it.” Then his expression darkened slightly. “Even you.” Johnny swallowed hard immediately after hearing that. Fear twisted sharply inside his stomach because deep down he knew Diego was telling the truth. Diego had enough money for something like that now. Enough power. Enough influence. They were both still breathing heavily while tension filled every corner of the room. Then slowly Diego lowered his forehead against Johnny’s forehead again, forcing Johnny to stay close beneath him. “Nobody knows, do they?” Diego whispered softly near his face. “Gyro… Hot Pants… none of them know what a filthy little whore you became.” Johnny instantly shut his eyes after hearing that. Shame crashed into him painfully while his breathing became uneven again. Diego noticed the reaction immediately and smirked faintly against him. “Thought so,” he murmured quietly. Johnny’s fingers tightened harder into the blankets beneath him while trying desperately not to completely fall apart in front of him again. But Diego kept staring down at him with those terrifying green eyes, like he could see every broken piece Johnny tried hiding from the world. “I’m not letting you go, Joestar,” Diego whispered after another long silence. His voice sounded calm now, almost possessive. “From now on, every client you have will be me.” Johnny slowly opened his eyes again in disbelief while staring up at him. “What the hell’s wrong with you…?” he muttered weakly beneath his breath. Diego only smiled wider. “No one else touches you anymore,” he continued softly. “No more strangers. No more disgusting old men.” His hand tightened slightly against Johnny while keeping him trapped beneath him. “You’re my whore now.” Johnny’s heartbeat immediately sped up after hearing that sentence. Fear mixed painfully with humiliation inside his chest while Diego kept staring at him with that same cold obsessive expression. “Yer insane,” Johnny whispered quietly. Diego gave a low amused laugh beneath his breath before leaning even closer. “Perhaps,” he murmured. “But I mean every word, Joestar.”
Diego’s words terrified Johnny far more than he wanted to admit. They did not sound like empty threats. That was the worst part. Diego looked completely serious while saying them, his cold green eyes staring directly down into Johnny’s like he was already imagining every possible way to ruin what little remained of him. Johnny could physically feel fear twisting painfully inside his stomach now. Was this really why Diego came here tonight? Not because of desire. Not because of curiosity. But because he truly wanted to destroy him completely. Johnny slowly bit down on his lower lip again while trying desperately to steady his breathing. His chest hurt. Everything hurt. Diego always hated him — Johnny knew that much already. Their hatred for each other stretched back years, all the way to childhood, to stables and horse races and ugly jealousy neither of them ever escaped. But Johnny never imagined Diego’s hatred could become this dark. This obsessive. This cruel. Finally Johnny’s voice cracked sharply through the heavy silence of the room. “Fuck off— w-why?!” he suddenly shouted, his southern accent rough and uneven from panic and emotion. Diego did not even flinch at the outburst. He simply stared down at Johnny coldly, almost emotionlessly now. “You know what I never understood about you?” Diego asked quietly. His voice sounded calm compared to Johnny’s shaking anger. “You spent your entire life surrounded by fame. Wealth. The Joestar family always had money.” Diego’s eyes narrowed slightly while studying him beneath the candlelight. “And yet somehow you still wasted all of it.” Johnny’s breathing became heavier while listening to him. Diego leaned slightly closer afterward, his expression hardening more with every word. “Now look at you,” he whispered coldly. “You’re here selling yourself for money like a filthy little whore.” Johnny visibly flinched at the insult again while tears burned painfully behind his eyes. Diego noticed immediately and continued anyway. “Back then,” Diego said more sharply now, “people looked down on me because I was poor. Because I wasn’t born with the same silver spoon shoved into my mouth like you were.” His jaw tightened slightly. “Do you understand me now, Joestar?” Johnny stared at him silently, fear and confusion mixing together painfully inside his chest. Diego’s voice lowered afterward into something colder. More dangerous. “I’m going to make you pay for every miserable year of it.” Then after a long pause, he whispered the words that made Johnny’s stomach drop completely. “I’m going to destroy you.”
Johnny shut his eyes immediately afterward like he physically could not bear looking at Diego anymore. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, a broken hysterical laugh escaped from his throat. The sound felt wrong even to him. Sharp. Exhausted. Empty. Like something inside him had finally snapped completely. Diego watched him silently while Johnny laughed again weakly beneath him, though tears were now sliding openly down the sides of his face. It almost felt funny somehow. Of course this would be his ending. Of course Diego Brando would be the one to finally ruin whatever remained of Johnny Joestar completely. Johnny spent so long surviving misery after misery that maybe this was inevitable from the beginning. Maybe he truly was doomed long before Steel Ball Run ever started. The laughter slowly died into uneven breathing while tears continued falling freely now. Johnny hated himself for crying again. Hated how weak he looked right now. But he was too exhausted emotionally to stop it anymore. Slowly, after another painful moment, Johnny finally forced his eyes open again and looked up toward Diego with red exhausted eyes. “I hate you,” Johnny whispered weakly. The words came out painfully honest. “I always knew ya hated me too… but I never thought it’d turn into somethin’ this horrible.” Diego stared down at him silently after hearing that. His expression barely changed at all. That almost made it worse somehow. Johnny expected cruelty. Mocking. Another insult. But instead Diego simply kept looking at him quietly, like he was studying every broken piece of him one last time. Then unexpectedly, Diego leaned down and pressed a brief cold kiss against Johnny’s lips. The gesture felt strangely empty despite how intimate it should have been. It did not feel loving. It did not feel kind. It felt possessive somehow. Final. Johnny froze beneath him in confusion while Diego slowly pulled away afterward without saying another word. For a second neither of them moved. Then Diego calmly stood up from the bed and began fixing his clothes in complete silence.
Johnny watched him numbly while Diego adjusted his gloves and straightened his expensive jockey coat beneath the warm golden light of the room. The entire situation suddenly felt unreal again, almost dreamlike in the worst possible way. Diego moved calmly, elegantly, like none of this affected him at all. Meanwhile Johnny still lay there breathing unevenly against the sheets with tear stains across his face and humiliation crushing him alive from the inside. Johnny wanted to say something before Diego left. Wanted to scream at him maybe. Or ask him why he truly cared this much after all these years. But the words never came out. His throat felt too tight. Diego finally glanced back toward him one last time while standing near the door. The look inside his eyes remained unreadable now. Cold. Controlled. Dangerous. Then without another single word, Diego turned and walked out of the room completely. The sound of the door shutting behind him echoed loudly through the silence afterward. And then Johnny was alone. Completely alone again. The room suddenly felt enormous without Diego inside it. Too quiet. Too empty. Johnny remained lying there against the bed while staring blankly upward at the golden ceiling above him. His entire body felt numb now. He could still smell Diego’s cologne faintly lingering in the air around him mixed with the scent of horses and candle smoke. Somehow that only made everything worse. Johnny slowly lifted a shaky hand toward his face and covered his eyes weakly while trying to steady his breathing again. But the tears kept coming anyway. Diego’s words replayed endlessly inside his mind. I’m going to destroy you. Nobody else touches you anymore. You’re my whore now. Johnny’s stomach twisted violently every time he remembered them. The terrifying part was that Johnny believed him completely. Diego Brando never said things he did not mean. That realization settled heavily into Johnny’s chest like a weight impossible to remove. For the first time in a long time, Johnny genuinely felt trapped. Not by the building. Not by poverty. But by Diego himself. And somehow that frightened him more than anything else ever had.
Johnny had no idea how long he stayed there afterward. Minutes. Hours maybe. Time stopped feeling real eventually. He remained lying exactly where Diego left him while the candle flames slowly burned lower around the room. At some point the rain outside became heavier, softly tapping against the windows while thunder rumbled faintly somewhere far away. But Johnny barely noticed any of it. His mind remained completely consumed by everything that just happened. Every sentence Diego said replayed over and over until Johnny felt sick from hearing them inside his own head. Eventually Johnny slowly pushed himself upward into a sitting position again, though even that movement felt exhausting now. The white nightgown still hung loosely around him, wrinkled and pushed out of place from earlier. Johnny stared down at himself silently for a long moment before giving another weak bitter laugh beneath his breath. He looked pathetic. Completely pathetic. Diego was right about one thing at least — there truly was almost nothing left of Johnny Joestar anymore. The famous jockey who crossed America beside Gyro Zeppeli felt completely dead now. Buried beneath shame and exhaustion and loneliness. Johnny slowly pulled his knees closer weakly while sitting there alone in the giant golden bed. His eyes still burned from crying. God… what was he supposed to do now? Because deep down, he knew Diego would come back. Of course he would. Diego Brando never let go of things once he decided they belonged to him. And somehow tonight, in the cruelest way possible, Diego had decided Johnny belonged to him now. The realization sent another wave of fear crawling painfully beneath Johnny’s skin. Yet beneath that fear sat something else too. Something Johnny hated even more because he could not fully understand it himself. Diego terrified him. Diego humiliated him. Diego wanted to ruin him completely. And yet despite all of that… Johnny could still feel his heartbeat speeding up every time he remembered the way Diego looked at him tonight. That realization alone made Johnny hate himself more than ever before.