Night Shift

by 3kanite

Summary:

Gyro is new in town, working the night shift. His lonely life is completely turned around when one night he meets Johnny: another nocturnal creature, but in a dangerously different sense.

Notes:

hello and welcome to "Night Shift," my newest GyJo longfic! I've been working on this one for a while and I can't wait to see what you all think of it. There will be lots of twists and turns along the way, so buckle up!
A quick warning: due to the nature of the AU, this fic will have some mild dark themes. I won't be tagging everything in the interest of avoiding spoilers, but content warnings will be present in the author's note when applicable. Going forward, please be sure read the A/N just to be safe!
As with my previous fic, updates should be on every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday until it's finished. I post update notifications and other fic-related stuff on my Twitter and Tumblr, so check me out there if you're interested! Thank you to everyone who has already showed plenty of love for this idea. I hope it's everything you dreamed of and more! Much love 💙
(final note: title is from a Lucy Dacus song which, although not thematically related to this fic, is a helluva bop.)

Chapter 1: night shift

It was almost two AM and Gyro was late for work.

He pulled into the gas station at an unreasonable speed, practically drifting into a parking spot right out front. Hopping out, the harsh fluorescent lights nearly blinded him as he made a beeline for the coffee machine. He shoved a styrofoam cup under the nozzle and hit the first option that looked the most like espresso.

Damn the night shift, he thought, rubbing his eyes vigorously as the machine droned and began dispensing shitty coffee. He wasn’t built for this nonsense. One simply should not be drinking caffeine this late. One should not be awake this late, let alone trying to stay more awake.

But duty calls, right? And he was the new kid on the block at the hospital: still in residency, young and rootless compared to the other personnel. It only made sense that he’d get assigned to the worst time. Everyone else wanted to get home for dinner and drinks and all that.

Gyro understood. He would’ve done the same thing if he had seniority. Or a family. Or any friends to speak of.

It’s still early, he told himself to counteract that depressing thought. He’d only been in this city for what, a month or two? Surely it wasn’t unusual for a transplant like him to take longer to form a new network. Especially when he worked all night and slept all day…

“Somethin’ on fire?” a slow, twangy voice asked from beside him.

Gyro looked over— then, unexpectedly, down. The person speaking to him was well below his eye level, because they were seated. In a wheelchair.

It was a young man— a kid, really— dressed in a baggy blue sweatshirt, jeans, and black converse sneakers. He had clear, bright eyes like he wasn’t tired in the slightest despite the late hour. In his lap he had a bag of chips and a cherry-red slushie. An odd midnight snack, in Gyro’s opinion, but then again he was standing here waiting for his coffee to be done.

Gyro blinked in surprise, then looked around to see if this guy was really talking to him. The kid rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, you,” he said. He had a full-blown Southern accent that made his words bend and cling together like honey. “You seem like you’re in a rush.”

“Kinda,” Gyro lied. He was a full thirty minutes behind schedule, but that wasn’t really important to share, was it? And with a stranger, no less. “Sorry, have we met…?”

The question seemed to remind the kid of something, bringing a cloud over his face. His lip curled slightly and he gripped the wheels of his chair hard.

“No,” he said.

With that, he wheeled around abruptly and headed down the next aisle over, effectively disappearing from Gyro’s sight. Gyro sighed and scratched the back of his neck. Shit, did he offend the guy? He forgot that Americans were more friendly than Europeans. It wasn’t necessarily weird to make conversation with strangers here.

Is that my problem? he wondered. Do I come across as standoffish? Damn, and here he thought he was more culturally sensitive than this.

The coffee machine beeped to signal it was done. Gyro grabbed the cup, forgoing a lid, and headed straight for the counter. A cashier who looked as tired as Gyro felt rang him up. At least the coffee was cheap. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet—

Which was not there. Gyro suddenly had a vivid vision of it sitting forlornly on his kitchen counter. Fuck.

“Uh, hold on,” he said quickly, beginning to rummage more frantically. He found two quarters in his other back pocket, but that wasn’t enough to cover even the cheapest cup of coffee.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! Did he have some cash in his car? The center console had to have some loose change, right—?

“I got it,” a now-familiar voice said. “Add this shit, too.”

Before Gyro could protest, a pale hand shot out and slapped a bill down. The same hand then slid a bag of spicy chips and a large red slushie across the counter as well. The unamused cashier took the money without comment while the kid took his snacks back. The coffee he left sitting there, steaming and bitter.

Gyro stared at the guy who had just saved him from a bleary-eyed, coffee-less shift. The kid just arched an eyebrow at him.

“You gonna get that or what?” he asked.

“Oh.” Gyro turned around to see the cashier holding out the change. From his wheelchair, the other guy couldn’t reach it. Gyro held out his palm to take it and picked up his coffee with the other hand.

“Cool,” the kid said. “Let’s go.”

Let’s? Gyro didn’t know when the two of them had become a “we." Regardless, he numbly followed the stranger away from the counter and all the way outside into the cool night air.

Once there, the kid paused to rip open his bag of chips and pop one into his mouth. He grimaced a little— because of the spice, maybe— and took a sip of his drink. Gyro wasn’t sure what he wanted, so he tried to hand him the change. But the kid just shook his head at Gyro’s proffered fist.

“Keep it,” he said. “If you don’t carry your wallet around, you’re gonna need it.”

“I don’t usually forget.”

“In case of emergencies, then.”

Gyro looked back at the convenience store in mild awe, then to the kid once more.

“Why’d you do that?” he asked. The question was blunt, but Gyro didn't have the time or energy to be more courteous.

The kid shrugged. He didn't seem bothered by Gyro's lack of tact.

“Don’t see lots of people out at this hour," he said. "Seems like you needed that.”

He jerked his head towards the coffee. Gyro had practically forgotten about it in his confusion. He hastily took a long, burning gulp, if only to show his appreciation, but then had to make a face. God, American coffee was so shitty. The kid snorted.

“Jesus," he said. "What a way to start your day, huh?” 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Gyro muttered. Then, finally remembering his manners— “Thanks. I wouldn’t survive my shift without this.”

“I know the feeling. You got a name?”

“Gyro. You?”

“Johnny.”

“Nice to meet you,” Gyro said, offering a smile.

Johnny raised his brow again at the expression like he was skeptical of its sincerity, but then nodded in acknowledgement.

“Pleasure’s mine,” he said. “Like I said, this time of night’s usually pretty deserted.”

“I can imagine,” Gyro said. “What’re you doing out?”

Johnny shrugged. “You know. Night shift. Like you. What d’you do, anyway?”

“Oh, I work at the hospital.”

“That right? No wonder you’re in a rush.”

“Yeah—“ Gyro paused, realizing that he was spending precious minutes here talking about his job when he ought to be speeding to said job. “Shit, that reminds me. I really gotta go— but, uh, thanks again for the coffee. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Johnny said. “Next time, you can buy me something.”

Next time. Johnny was looking away when he said it, so it was hard to gauge the emotion behind it, but Gyro couldn’t help but smile. Maybe making friends was just about being at the right place in the right time.

“Yeah,” he said. “Next time.”

He had to put the encounter out of his mind when he arrived at the hospital as the demands for his time and energy started flooding in. But, oddly enough, when he was finally free to go home and throw himself into bed, Gyro didn’t fall asleep right away like he usually did. Instead, he thought of his new friend and smiled.

He made sure to set his alarm— and, upon further reflection, gave himself an extra fifteen minutes, just in case.

---

When Gyro went to that same corner store the next night, he was disappointed to find that Johnny wasn’t there. He wasn’t sure why he was expecting him— that next time wasn’t a formal agreement or anything. It was just a slip of speech.

Still, Gyro couldn’t help but feel even lonelier than before. He bought his shit coffee and took off.

He didn’t see Johnny again for a week. He was just beginning to reconsider his coffee choices when, walking into the irritating lights of the convenience store again, he spotted a flash of baby blue near the back. Gyro almost forgot about coffee entirely as he headed in its direction.

Johnny was browsing the candy selection, looking listless. Worst than listless, actually— he looked sick. He was even paler than before, his eyes sunken with shaded bags underneath, his cheeks hollowed…

As a medical professional, Gyro was concerned. As a near-stranger, however, he had to wonder. With that look and the nocturnal habits… could Johnny be a junkie, perhaps?

But if that were true, there was no way that he would be wasting money on buying coffee for people he didn’t know and not even asking for anything in return. That would make him an unusually generous addict. So Gyro ruled that out and approached.

“Hey,” he said. “Johnny, right?”

Johnny jumped, becoming rigid in his chair before seeing that it was just Gyro and relaxing. His eyes were red-rimmed, but not like he was high. He looked more like he was flu-ish or something.

“Oh, hey,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “It’s you. Coffee guy.”

“Gyro.”

Johnny nodded absently. “Yeah. You did have a weird name.”

Gyro ignored the slight— nothing was worse than his actual name— and reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet and show it to Johnny. “I came prepared today.”

“Damn,” Johnny said, in a perfectly flat voice. “I was ready to buy you a medium coffee, too.”

They both laughed at that. Gyro shoved his wallet back into his pocket. Johnny definitely wasn’t on drugs. He didn’t even seem to care that Gyro had money.

“You really saved my life last week,” Gyro said. He gestured to the shelf with exaggerated magnanimity. “So whatever you want today, it’s on me.”

“Really putting that doctor salary to good use,” Johnny said. “Lucky for your wallet, I’m not hungry for any of this crap.”

“What would you prefer? A shitty coffee?”

Johnny ran his tongue over his chapped lips, then shook his head. He had a sort of distant look in his eyes.

“I dunno,” he said. “Doubt that would do it for me either.”

No appetite, huh? Gyro couldn’t help it— he was mentally attempting to diagnose Johnny’s apparent illness. Maybe he’s getting over something, and that’s why he wasn’t here. Or maybe he doesn’t get enough sleep because he’s here.

“Can’t even tempt you with one of those ice drinks?” Gyro asked.

“What, a slushie?” Johnny pursed his lips. “Hm… maybe.”

They headed over to the slushie machine together, where Johnny filled a cup halfway with watery red ice. He nodded to Gyro and handed him the cup. Gyro took it (and his coffee) to the counter and paid for them.

Then, he and Johnny went outside like before. Gyro leaned against the concrete wall to sip his coffee while Johnny stirred his slushie unenthusiastically.

“Y’ain’t from around here, are you?” he asked. “From the States, I mean.”

“Nope,” Gyro said. “I mean, I’ve lived here for a few years, getting an education. But I wasn’t born here.”

“Lemme guess,” Johnny said. “Europe?”

“Yeah. Italy. What gave it away?”

“Accent. Doesn’t help that you don’t know what a slushie’s called.” He shook his cup for emphasis.

“Oh, come on,” Gyro complained. “I know what it’s called, I just forgot. How many languages do you know, anyway?”

“Dozens, probably.”

“Sure. Anyway, it’s a silly name.”

“No less silly than Gyro,” Johnny quipped.

“Ouch,” Gyro said, clutching his chest for dramatic effect. “Good thing I’m going to the ER after this. I’m gonna need a dignity drip ASAP.”

“ER, huh?” Johnny looked mildly intrigued as he poked his straw into his cup. “You a surgeon?”

“Studying to be one, at least,” Gyro said. “I do a lot of observation. Nothing big.”

“Maybe not,” Johnny said. “But you save lives, right?”

He wasn’t looking at Gyro as he asked that question, rather staring into his cup like he was trying to read tea leaves. Gyro tried to respond modestly. His father warned him about getting too up in his head about the ‘saving lives’ thing.

Well, he warned him about getting too up in his head about anything, since it seemed like Gyro couldn’t help himself. He was born passionate, to his dad’s chagrin.

All right, Gyro, let’s not think about Dad too much, he told himself. He wanted to have a decent shift, after all.

“I do my best,” he said.

Johnny nodded pensively. “I’m sure you do. Sewing people up, is that it?”

“It’s a little bit of everything,” Gyro said. “I don’t want to gross you out.”

Johnny smiled a little down at his slushie, albeit with his mouth closed.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I ain’t afraid of blood.”

Chapter 2: a matter of time

Summary:

Gyro and Johnny get to know each other a little better. In other news, Gyro might not be as friendless as he thought.

Notes:

Not much to say about this chapter, except some more of our faves make their debut appearances!
Thank you to everyone who has read and kudos'd and commented thus far. Your support means the world to me and I hope I can deliver. Enjoy!
Chapter title is the name of a song by the Killers (one of my favorite bands)!

After meeting Johnny, Gyro finally began to build a good routine: wake up at midnight, head to the convenience store for coffee, chat with Johnny, head to work, go to bed at sunrise, and repeat. It didn’t sound like much, but those little interactions with Johnny really kept his spirits up.

“Y’ain’t tired of shitty coffee yet?” Johnny asked one evening as they were loitering outside the convenience store. Usually they didn’t catch any trouble from the store employees or roving cops, especially if Gyro was wearing his scrubs.

“I mean, it’s all I got,” Gyro said, stirring his coffee. “This is the only place I know open this late.”

Johnny snorted. “Sounds like you haven’t been looking very hard. There’s a twenty-four hour diner just down the street. Serves breakfast all day and all night.”

“Huh,” Gyro said. “We should go there next time, then.”

Johnny lifted his head inquisitively. “We?”

Aren't you the one who first grouped us together that way? Gyro thought. “Yeah, like… you and me? If you’re free, I mean.”

Johnny blinked, then looked away again.

“I’m always free,” he muttered. “But you ain’t. You don’t got the time to sit down and eat, do you?”

Gyro shrugged. “Could always block out some time before my shift starts. Eat a proper breakfast and all that. Might be good for me.”

Johnny started to smile a little. “Breakfast at midnight, huh?”

“Whatever you eat for your first meal of the day, that’s breakfast,” Gyro said.

“Define ‘day.’”

“Well, if you ask me…”

Following that conversation, they established their new meeting place: Sugar’s Diner.

Gyro had passed by it many a time, but never realized that it was a 24/7 joint. It had a sort of mismatched retro feel, like the owners couldn’t decide which decade they wanted to throw back to— they had a fifties-style jukebox in one corner and Saturday Night Fever posters from the eighties on the walls. Regardless, Gyro found the place charming in a very Americana sort of way. If he described a place like it to his family back home, they surely wouldn’t believe that America was really like that anywhere.

He related this insight to Johnny on one occasion, who just laughed.

“Well, it ain’t really like this,” he said. “People just want it to be sometimes.”

He then flagged down the hostess, who Gyro assumed was the daughter of the people who owned the joint or something because she was always there despite the late hour. Gyro watched Johnny, shoving his hands into his pockets. He wondered what he wanted Johnny to be, for him.

There was no denying that Gyro found Johnny cute. Proposing this new arrangement even gave him the sort of adrenaline rush that usually came from asking people out on dates. But actually asking Johnny out presented a host of potential problems. He didn’t know if Johnny was single, or if he even liked men, let alone if he liked Gyro as anything beside a friend. And seeing as Johnny was one of Gyro’s only friends at the moment, it seemed reckless to jeopardize that.

So Gyro let the evening ‘breakfasts’ pass without doing anything overly flirty, like reaching for Johnny’s hand across the table or offering to share a drink. Even if he really wanted to.

With that said, Gyro soon realized that Johnny was not actually his only friend. Oddly enough, after establishing a rapport with Johnny, Gyro found himself falling in similar routines with other acquaintances, particularly the other young people at his job. It was like meeting Johnny had unlocked some friendly part in him (which might very well be true— Gyro had sort of forgotten how to talk to people before Johnny showed up).

For example, he always found himself taking a mid-shift "lunch break" (despite it not being anywhere near noontime) with two unlikely comrades: a hospital chaplain and a receptionist. They made an odd trio, seeing as the chaplain was an unsmiling pink-haired woman while the receptionist was a unwaveringly cheerful blonde.

Gyro thought of these people as little more than friendly coworkers until, one night, the pink-haired woman (mysteriously called HP and HP only) slapped down a piece of paper in front of him and the receptionist, whose name was Lucy.

“Next week,” she said, without preamble. “Cream Starter is playing downtown. You should come if you have off.”

Gyro picked up the piece of paper to study it. It was a flyer that looked like it had been hastily made in a default image editing program, with a black background and bright pink letters announcing a performance at a local dive bar. It seemed like some sort of punk gig, judging from the aesthetic.

“Cream Starter?” he repeated.

“My band,” HP said flatly. “I’m inviting you both.”

HP, in a punk band...? Gyro looked up. HP looked completely serious (not that she was the type to joke). Actually, now that she mentioned it, Gyro didn’t have that hard of a time imagining her in the stereotypical punk uniform: spikes, leather, chains, etc.

“Thanks?” he said.

Lucy peered at the flyer herself. “Do we need to buy tickets?”

“No,” HP said. “You can come in the back. Friends of the band get in free.”

Friends. Gyro didn’t know that he was HP’s friend before this, but an invitation to a punk rock concert seemed like a good enough entry into amicable relations as any. Especially with someone like her. And with the way that Lucy grinned and started chattering with Gyro to discuss possible plans, well— it seemed like she was his friend now too, whether he liked it or not.

Gyro tuned out Lucy and HP’s conversation as it turned to other topics. He looked at his phone as if he were expecting a text, but there was nothing of note.

He realized that he’d never asked for Johnny’s phone number, nor had Johnny asked for his. Would such a request be seen as too forward? But then again, since when did Gyro care about being too forward?

I just don’t want to mess this up, Gyro thought, frowning at the blank screen. It’d really suck if his world went back to revolving around his job like before. Still, it wasn’t weird for friends to have each others’ numbers.

He was overthinking this. Getting up in his head, like his father always scolded him for. Gyro looked up and tried to catch up to the thread of conversation.

“—didn’t even see anyone on the cameras,” Lucy was saying. She seemed worried, pushing her sad cafeteria salad around with her fork. “And God knows I didn’t see anyone.”

“It has to be someone on the inside, then,” HP said, folding her hands on the table.

Whatever they were talking about, it seemed to disgust both of them rather thoroughly. Gyro frowned, completely lost as to the subject or how they got there.

“What I don’t understand is why they want it,” Lucy said with a shudder. “Are they selling it on the black market or something?”

“Unlikely,” HP said. “If they were looking to make money, it’d be smarter to steal organs. That’d be much more lucrative. Blood’s not that hard to come by.”

Oh, that. Gyro vaguely recalled reading a hospital-wide email informing that a few bags of blood had gone missing from the supply. The admin seemed pretty adamant that they were going to catch whoever the “thief” was, although Gyro suspected they were just trying to cover their asses. That blood probably got used or transported somewhere else and someone forgot to write it down, that was all.

“What do you think, Gyro?” Lucy asked, nudging him with her elbow. “Any theories?”

Gyro sat back in his chair and flashed them both a grin. “It was definitely a vampire.”

HP flattened her lips as Lucy giggled. They moved onto another subject soon after, and Gyro forgot about the blood again entirely.

---

Johnny poked at his plate of fries, sitting across from Gyro in one of the diner booths at Sugar's. Gyro wasn’t sure if it was the shoddy lighting or just his imagination, but he looked somewhat sick again.

“You feeling okay?” Gyro asked, stirring more sugar into his coffee. It still didn’t come even close to Italian espresso, but it was much better than the convenience store swill.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, leaning his cheek on his palm. “Jus’ tired, I guess. Bored, maybe.”

Gyro forced a laugh. “With me? Wow, and here I thought we were having fun.”

Johnny gave a weak smile. “You know damn well that this is the most fun I have all day. I’m talkin’ about the rest of the time. It’s just like… more of the same, y’know?”

Gyro nodded sympathetically. Being a doctor was supposed to be high-stakes and high-stress, and sometimes it was, but a lot of the time it was just a lot of the same people with the same easily-solved concerns.

Sometimes it felt like this time with Johnny was the only thing keeping him sane. But Gyro wasn’t tripping over himself to confess that.

“Got any hobbies?” he asked.

Johnny shrugged, his smile disappearing. He picked a grain of salt off the greasy plate in front of him and rolled it between the pads of his fingers. “Not really. I mean, I used to— well, no.”

“Used to what?” Gyro pressed. “C’mon, is it super embarrassing? I gotta know.”

“It’s not,” Johnny insisted, flicking the salt in Gyro’s direction. “I used to race horses. But you can probably guess why I quit.”

“You were a jockey?” Gyro sat up straighter. “That’s so cool. I love horses.”

“…really?” Johnny asked. “I woulda pinned you as a dog person.”

“I mean, dogs are nice too, but horses are awesome,” Gyro said. “Like, they’re so freaking huge and powerful."

Johnny’s smile came back as he listened. Gyro couldn’t help but beam right back at him. When he smiled, he looked a lot less sick. 

"If I were an animal, I’d be a mustang for sure," Gyro said. "Strong and fast.”

He did an over-exaggerated flex, exhaling through his nose in something vaguely resembling a horse's snort (at least, resembling it enough for the gag to come across). Johnny gave his own snort, one of laughter.

“And would you let a bunch of puny humans get on your back?” he asked teasingly.

“No way,” Gyro said. “I’d buck those shitheads right off. And then kick ‘em in the kidneys for good measure.”

“What, even if they offered you a sugar cube?” Johnny grabbed a packet of coffee sweetener and waved it in front of Gyro’s face. Gyro laughed, brushing him off.

“Yeah, even then,” he said. “I’m wild and free, baby. Always.”

“Don’t let nobody ride you, then, huh?”

Gyro nearly choked on his own spit, and Johnny laughed out loud. Oh, he knew what innuendo he was making, there was no question of it— but he couldn’t know that it was because he was making it that Gyro got so flustered. With that voice of his, drawling and playful, and the way a smile tugged on his full lips.

Johnny never seemed to show his teeth when he smiled, but when he laughed it was another story. Gyro’s heart thrilled at the glimpses of his teeth and tongue, like they were a secret reserved for him alone.

In a flash Gyro's mind was awash with images of exactly what Johnny was asking him about: of Johnny seating himself on Gyro’s lap and laughing, breathless, delighted, mouth open—

Cut it out. Gyro dug his nails into his denim-clad thigh under the table as if to literally get a grip. He collected himself and retorted: “Only if I like the cut of their jib.”

Only if it’s you, he meant to say.

Johnny rolled his eyes, still smiling. “That’s sailing, dummy. You’re mixing metaphors.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Johnny said, sitting back against the tacky leather. “Is that why you came to America, then? Wanted to run free?”

Gyro chuckled, secretly glad for the subject change. “I guess you could say that. My dad did have me on a pretty tight leash— or reins, if we’re sticking to the horse thing. He wasn’t always happy with my direction in life.” Or lack thereof.

“How could he not be happy? You’re a fucking doctor,” Johnny said, sounding outraged on his behalf.

“Yeah, but so is he,” Gyro said. “He’s got this whole method and technique that he sticks to, like it’s his damn religion. Needless to say I didn’t always agree.”

Don’t get involved, Gyro. He could practically hear his father’s favorite catchphrases now. Do your job. Don’t concern yourself with everything else. Gregorio Zeppeli made it a point to stay unconcerned with his patients’ histories. Even when it was clear that they were victims of abuse or violence or some other type of injustice, none of that mattered to him. After all, the first tenet of medicine was primum non nocere: first, do no harm.

But it wasn’t enough for Gyro to just do no harm. He wanted to do good, too. To do right by the people who came to him for help, even when Gregorio said it was none of their business.

They’d had many a shouting match about it. Well, Gyro had been shouting, at least. Gregorio never raised his voice. He’d calmly state his argument in a way that only made Gyro more furious. Don’t get sentimental, he’d say.

So when it came time for Gyro to start his surgical training, he was damn sure to jump ship to get away from his father’s influence. The only problem was that sometimes Gyro felt like he was still doing what Gregorio would’ve wanted regardless. At his loneliest times, he wondered why he even left Italy in the first place— he was still as cold and friendless as his father wanted him to be. Still getting pushed around by his old man’s views and ideals, struggling to find his own path…

“Fathers can suck,” Johnny said, aptly. “My old man was a bastard.”

There was a note of venom to Johnny’s voice that Gyro hadn’t heard from him before. But he didn’t say anything else. Gyro noted his use of the past tense— was Johnny’s father dead?  If so, it didn’t seem like his passing had done anything to soften Johnny’s hard feelings towards him. It was intriguing, but Gyro didn’t want to pry.

“Not every man with a son is cut out to call himself a dad,” he said simply.

“You can say that again.”

“Okay. Not every—“

“Not literally,” Johnny said. He pushed his plate, still full of fries, in Gyro’s direction. “I ain’t hungry. You want these?”

“Sure,” Gyro said, plucking up a few fries and popping them in his mouth. He was happy to get away from the topic of fathers and sensed that Johnny was too. “You don’t have much of an appetite these days. You sure you’re not coming down with something?”

He felt more comfortable asking this now that he and Johnny had spent a little more time together. Johnny occasionally casually alluded to his poor health, usually in a joking manner. But Gyro was still as concerned as before. Now, he was willing to brave a bit of annoyance from Johnny— as he did now, judging by the other’s scowl.

“I’m fine,” he said, turning his head to look out the window (and, pointedly, not at Gyro). “It’s like I said. I’m just... bored as fuck.”

Boredom, huh? Now that he thought about it, Gyro had the perfect solution. He hastily reached into his pocket and pulled up an image on his phone.

“Well, I can fix that,” he said. “Check this out.”

Johnny squinted at the screen. “‘Cream Starter’…? What is this?”

“It’s my coworker’s band. She invited me to come see them play this weekend at this joint downtown, free of charge. Even if the music sucks, there’s sure to be a fight or some other form of entertainment. Oh, and alcohol. Do you drink?”

“Not really,” Johnny said warily. “Your coworker invited you? You sure this isn’t like… y’know…?”

He raised his eyebrows suggestively. Gyro snorted.

“A date? With HP? No way,” he said. “She invited our other coworker too, who’s a girl, so unless she’s trying to get freaky with both of us I doubt there are any ulterior motives. Also, she’s like, a nun.”

“A nun in a punk rock band?” Johnny sounded intrigued, zooming in on the photo to read the fine print. “Starts at midnight… is this the kind of thing I could even go to?”

“I think HP just wants exposure, so I’m sure she wouldn’t mind,” Gyro said.

“I mean, like, is there gonna be a ramp at this dive bar?” Johnny gestured to his legs.

“Punk is for everyone,” Gyro said. “Worst comes to worst, you can get on my shoulders and have the best view in the house.”

“Would literally rather croak,” Johnny said. He pushed the phone back across the table. “I dunno. I’ll have to think about it.”

Gyro’s heart fell for a moment, before another brilliant idea struck him. “How about you text me if you want to come? We’ll go together.”

Internally patting himself on the back for his suavity, he quickly navigated from his photos app to his contacts and opened a new contact. He inched his phone in Johnny’s direction with an admittedly shit-eating grin.

Johnny gave him an inscrutable look before entering his information and scooting the phone back over to Gyro. Gyro shot him a quick text to confirm his number and pocketed his phone again, victorious.

“It’s a long shot,” Johnny warned.

One shot is all I need. “I’ll take it,” Gyro said.

Notes:

:3c the gears have begun to turn... next update: we party!
notes:
>yes, the hostess at Sugar's is Sugar Mountain herself. I forgot to tag her but it's a real brief cameo lol
>HP's job in this AU, hospital chaplain, is a real occupation! They basically provide spiritual support to patients and their families.
>Lucy is a little older in this AU than in canon, just so she can hold a job without violating any laws.
>Punk is, indeed, for everyone.
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Chapter 3: the last of the real ones

Summary:

Gyro manages to convince Johnny to go to HP's concert with him. Some things go right, while others go horribly, horribly wrong.

Notes:

this is a long one, folks, so get comfy! If it seems like it ends a bit abruptly, that's because I had to break the scene up to avoid having a 9-thousand word chapter (woof). Chapter title is a song by Fall Out Boy.
some content warnings: alcohol use, drunkenness, mild blood.

The night of the concert, Johnny texted one flat sentence:

you convinced me.

It was already eleven PM. Cream Starter was slated to go on in an hour and Gyro had almost given up hope on Johnny. Almost, but not quite.

As soon as he read Johnny’s text, he shot up off the couch and sprinted to the bathroom to get ready. Not fifteen minutes later, Gyro was applying the finishing touch to his outfit: his favorite bright green lipstick, the one that matched his eyes down to the shade.

Although not very into punk music himself— he was more of a classic rock kinda guy— Gyro was familiar with the attire of all self-respecting concert-goers at this type of gig. For tonight, he dug out a leather jacket, tight jeans, and boots, all in black. For a pop of color, he had a jewel-green tank top to go with his lips and his favorite belt. Finally, just for laughs, he fished out a super-old gold cross necklace that he hadn’t worn in years, smirking at the thought of HP seeing him wearing it.

It had been a while since Gyro had been able to break out any of his party or bar attire. He couldn't remember the last time that he wore something besides scrubs or loungewear. He didn't realize how much he missed getting all dressed up. His favorite belt buckle— the one with the hands pointing to the crotch, which he'd originally bought as a joke but then discovered that he actually liked— hadn't seen daylight in months.

It felt good to put it on. He felt like himself again.

Satisfied with his getup, he sent Johnny a response: see you there in twenty!

---

The bar was at a pretty central location downtown, so Gyro decided to walk. His boots were sturdy enough and he needed the fresh air. He’d been sure to send the name and address of the bar— Blackmore’s— to Johnny more than once so that there’d be no mistake. He hoped it wasn’t too far for him to get to. He wasn’t exactly sure how Johnny got around town, since he didn’t seem to drive nor make much use of public transport.

Gyro was planning on getting there nice and early, well before the twenty minutes he’d allotted himself, but when he arrived he was surprised to see Johnny already waiting out front.

Fuck, am I late? No— checking his phone told him that it wasn’t even midnight yet. He jogged up to Johnny.

“Hey, Johnny!” he called.

Johnny turned. He wasn’t in his wheelchair tonight, but instead was holding onto a pair of lower arm braces. Gyro didn’t know that he could walk at all, even with assistive devices, but he refrained from commenting. Wasn’t his business what Johnny could or couldn’t do.

"Hey, Gyro," Johnny said. He didn't sound pressed.

“You haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

“Nah, I just got here. Your friend’s band goes on at midnight, right?”

“Yeah,” Gyro said. “She told me to come in around the back so we don’t have to pay the cover charge.”

He paused, something else crossing his mind. “You’re... over twenty-one, right?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” Johnny shrugged. “You won’t get deported if you’re seen with me in a bar, don’t worry.”

“I’m worried about you, not me,” Gyro said.

How old is Johnny, anyway? Gyro wondered as he led the way down the nearest alley to the back door. He looked young, sure, but Gyro thought it was more in a perpetual-baby-face way, not in an actually-sixteen way. He'd always assumed that Johnny was also in his twenties since he seemed completely independent. Still, it was slightly worrisome…

“I’m twenty and some change, by the way,” Johnny piped up from behind him. “You’re not corrupting the youth by bringing me here or anything.”

Gyro barked out an awkward laugh. “You read my mind.”

“Could tell you were wigged out,” Johnny said. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Kinda young for a doctor, huh?”

“I’m actually still in residency right now. But yeah, I started undergrad a little younger than most people.” Gyro rolled his eyes, knowing that Johnny couldn’t see. Most people thought he was some sort of prodigy, having skipped a year of school, but it was really the result of grueling work. “Have my dad to thank for that.”

“Must’ve been hell,” Johnny said. “Med school, I mean.”

“Still more fun than what I’m doing now,” Gyro said wearily. He was lucky to get tonight off. Not even weekends were sacred in this business. “Let’s forget about that for now, shall we?”

“Sure thing,” Johnny said. “Focus on smuggling my underage ass inside.”

“Not so loud, now.” Gyro gestured to the empty alley as if it were full of listening ears.

They laughed as they approached the stage door. Gyro texted HP to let her know he’d arrived. The message was marked as ‘read’ on his phone, then a few minutes passed before the door opened a crack.

A dark eye framed by pink bangs peered out. Seeing Gyro, HP opened the door the rest of the way.

“Hey,” she said. “Thanks for coming.”

Her tone didn’t convey a whole lot of gratitude, but Gyro was used to HP’s flat affect. He was less accustomed to her current outfit: instead of her subdued hospital uniform, she was dressed in a sleeveless pink jumpsuit with gold accents over a black mesh shirt, a helmet-like hat, and knee-high pink boots. Suddenly her choice of hairstyle made a lot more sense— it was designed to go with this attire, not her chaplain ‘fit.

HP gave him a similar up and down, probably because she’d never seen him out of his scrubs either. Then she looked to Johnny and gave him a head tilt of acknowledgement. Johnny returned the nod.

“No problem,” Gyro said. “This is my friend Johnny, by the way.”

“More the merrier,” HP said in the least merry voice Gyro had ever heard. “Come in.”

The stage door thankfully did have a ramp, probably for equipment, which made Johnny’s entry a little easier. HP led them through some narrow, dark backstage hallways before pointing them in the direction of the front. She produced two wristbands for them.

“Don’t lose these, I want them back at the end of the night,” she said. She had to yell as they got closer to the loud bar and stage area. “I gotta go. Enjoy the show.”

“Thanks, HP,” Gyro said.

HP gave them one more sedate nod before disappearing backstage. Johnny raised his brows.

“I see that I was totally off with the ‘maybe she wants to go on a date with you’ thing,” he said. “She looked like she wanted to kill us both.”

“That’s just her face, I think,” Gyro said.

“What does HP stand for, anyway?”

“…you know, I have no idea.”

The inside of Blackmore’s was dark except for occasional flashing lights swinging about, but Gyro could tell it was already well-packed. There was a crowd of people milling about, waiting for the next act to come on. Loud club music was playing in the interim, and a few people were bouncing around in something resembling dance. Gyro easily cleared the way for Johnny, who stuck close to his back.

They grabbed stools at the bar— or, rather, Johnny got a stool to rest his arms while Gyro leaned against the bar next to him. Gyro waved down the bartender, a man dressed in black leather with a weirdly high ponytail and something like a hockey mask on his forehead. Was that Blackmore, he wondered?

“You want anything to drink?” he asked Johnny.

“Just water.”

“Sure thing.”

Gyro ordered a water for Johnny and a gin and tonic for himself, figuring it’d help him loosen up. When the bartender pushed the drink his way, he immediately took a healthy gulp.

He was a little anxious, to be frank. He hoped that HP’s band was at least somewhat good. He hoped that Johnny enjoyed himself. Gyro wouldn’t want to have dragged him to this if it wasn’t worth it. He knew this wasn’t anything like a date, but he still felt like he owed it to Johnny to show him a good time.

Gyro looked at Johnny, who was looking around the bar. It was somewhat strange to see him in this low light, after being so used to convenience store glare and diner shine. When the stage lights changed colors, it seemed to change Johnny’s face in tiny, almost imperceptible ways. In blue light Gyro noticed the sparkle of his eyes; in red, the minute furrow in his brow; in purple, the gleam of his lips.

It entranced and entertained Gyro way more than it should have. He wanted to experience the whole rainbow of Johnny.

“Is this a gay bar?” Johnny asked suddenly, nodding at something.

Gyro nearly choked on his drink. He looked over at what Johnny was referring to: a prominently displayed gay pride flag on the wall.

Oh, fuck. That also explained the rainbow lights. Gyro had never actually been in this place before. Did he accidentally bring Johnny to a gay bar on their first outing?!

“I-I don’t know, maybe?” Gyro tried to gauge by the crowd— were there more men here than in a typical club? It was kind of hard to tell in the dark, and with everyone dressed in more or less androgynous garb. “This is my first time here.”

“It doesn’t bother me if it is a gay bar,” Johnny said, tilting his head at Gyro’s panicked reaction. “I was just wondering.”

He sounded plenty calm. Gyro took a deep breath.

“It might be,” he admitted. “You’re okay with that? Guys might hit on you.”

Johnny laughed. “There you go again, worrying about me when you oughta be worrying about yourself.”

“Well, I don’t care.” Someone could hit on him if they wanted, but Gyro was here with Johnny for a reason.

Johnny tilted his head in the other direction, still staring placidly at Gyro. “You gay?”

Gyro downed the rest of his gin and tonic before answering. “Bisexual.”

“Ah,” Johnny said. “Cool.”

Johnny turned his attention back to the crowd. Gyro hesitated— should he ask about Johnny’s sexuality, so he’d be sure of whether or not he was barking up the wrong tree? Would it be better to let him offer up that information himself? But Johnny had asked first. So it was probably okay, right?

By the time that Gyro had finished deliberating and was ready to bite the bullet and ask, the lights in the room changed and the recorded music cut out— effectively cutting off his chance.

“The band must be coming on,” Johnny said. “Let’s get closer.”

Gyro winced. “…gimme a sec.”

As Johnny hopped off the stool to make his way into the crowd, Gyro signaled to the bartender. Soon enough he had two shots lined up for him, which he downed in rapid succession. The alcohol burned in a way that he hoped would ease his… whatever was going on with him.

He joined Johnny near the front of the stage. People were mindful enough to give Johnny a good amount of space. They were smarter for it, since Johnny wasn’t afraid to prod someone with his brace if necessary.

“If you get tired on those, let me know,” Gyro said, nodding to the braces.

Johnny’s jaw clenched. “Don’t worry about them.”

Gyro inhaled sharply. Gee, he was just knocking it out of the park tonight, wasn’t he? The booze wasn’t hitting fast enough. Well, the next round(s) would have to wait, because HP’s band was coming out.

Cream Starter consisted of four members aside from HP: a lead guitarist, drummer, and singer/keyboardist. HP came out first with her bass guitar, followed by a guy with bright pink makeup around his eyes who sat behind the drums and a woman in red with long black hair who took the mic. Last out was a short blonde guy who seemed like he hadn’t gotten the memo about the pink/red color scheme, as he was dressed in a blue and yellow turtleneck. He also had some weird makeup thing going on, with his face and neck partially painted to look like he had scales or something. Gyro didn’t get it, whatever he was going for, but then again he wasn’t part of the scene.

“Hello everyone,” the dark-haired woman said, smiling at the crowd with ruby-red lips. “Thanks for coming out tonight, we’re Cream Starter. Let’s get this thing going.”

The drummer immediately launched into a beat, and just like that the set was off. Their first song was a relatively upbeat number that Gyro actually found pretty catchy. The lead singer had a good voice and the drummer and guitarist both sounded pretty skilled.

He enjoyed watching HP the most, though: she had a very intense but calm look on her face as she plucked the strings of her bass guitar. The crowd didn’t seem to have any effect on her at all. She looked like she was at any old jam session, just doing her thing.

Is this what she does outside of work? Gyro thought. He mostly thought of her as “HP from work,” but there was evidently more to her identity than that. Playing bass guitar and… what else? Gyro had no clue.

It made him wonder what else there was to him outside of work. He didn’t exactly have time for a hobby. There was just work and… Johnny.

With that thought, Gyro looked to Johnny. He was nodding along to the beat, watching the band members with pretty intense focus. Especially the guitarist— Johnny narrowed his eyes at him, like he was trying to put a name to a face despite that face being partially disguised with paint. Maybe Johnny knew him. That’d be a funny coincidence.

“Gyro!” a voice piped up near his elbow.

Gyro turned around to see Lucy beaming at him. She was supposed to be dressed for the concert, he guessed, but a too-big leather jacket over top a rose-pink dress just made her look like a kid who’d stumbled into the wrong joint.

“I’m so glad you came!” Lucy shouted over the loud live music. Gyro had to bend down to get close enough to hear her. “Isn’t HP great?!”

“Yeah!” Gyro yelled back. “Hey, so, this is my friend Johnny!”

He elbowed Johnny to get his attention. Johnny tore his eyes away from the stage and nodded to Lucy.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Johnny, Gyro’s friend.”

It was, evidently, not the best place for conversation. Lucy smiled even though it was doubtful that she got all that. Then she turned and prodded someone near her.

“I brought someone too!” she said. “This is my friend Tim! Tim, this is Gyro!”

The man that she indicated was at least as tall as Gyro, and dressed for a very different type of gay bar: he had on jeans, a white tee, and a cowboy hat, which set him apart from the other concert-goers in a major way. He nodded to Gyro and thrust out his hand. Gyro took it; Tim had a very firm shake.

“Nice to meet ya,” Tim said.

“Same to you,” Gyro said.

“This is Tim’s first punk concert!” Lucy announced with excitement.

I can tell, Gyro thought. Tim smiled, a little awkwardly.

“I can count on ya’ll to take care of me, right?” he asked, although it was hard to imagine a guy his size needing anything or anyone to take care of him.

Gyro flashed him a grin back. “You’re in good hands.”

At the very least, Gyro was glad that he didn’t need to worry about Lucy with him around. He turned back to the stage just as the first song ended with a flourish from the performers. The lead singer smiled coyly at the audience.

“Hope you’re enjoying yourselves,” she said. “My name’s Scarlet. Tonight we got Mike O. on the drums, Hot Pants on the bass, and, filling in for our regular guitarist, Diego.”

Hot Pants? That was what HP stood for? Gyro laughed aloud and whistled as the crowd clapped for the band. He leaned over to Johnny.

“Hey, did you hear that?” he asked. “There’s your answer— HP means Hot Pants!”

But Johnny had turned away from the stage suddenly, just as they were launching into the second song. Gyro couldn’t see his face.

“You want a drink?” Johnny asked. “I’m thirsty.”

“Oh. Sure.” Gyro got Lucy and Tim’s attention. “We’re heading to the bar for a drink break.”

“We’ll come with you,” Lucy said, as Tim nodded.

At the bar, Johnny ordered another drink— another water, by the looks of it. He did mention that he didn’t drink much. Gyro looked to Lucy and Tim.

“You guys want anything?” he asked.

“I’m driving, actually,” Lucy said with a shrug.

“I’m in,” Tim said, taking off his hat. “What’s your poison, Gyro?”

Gyro shrugged. “Whatever’s cheap.”

“I’m a whiskey man, myself,” Tim said.

Of course you are, Gyro thought.

Tim nodded towards Johnny and his water. “Looks like we’re the only ones partaking. How ‘bout I buy you the next round, as thanks for lookin’ out for Lucy and me?”

Gyro was only just starting to feel the warmth of the first, what, three drinks? It didn’t feel like three. He was a big guy, anyway. He could do a round with this cowboy and not get too drunk.

“I think I’ll take you up on that,” he said. “Whiskey, I presume?”

Tim laughed heartily. “You got that right.”

Lucy took up chatting with Johnny, which Gyro silently thanked her for. She could get along with just about anyone, and it wasn’t long until Gyro saw Johnny crack a small smile at whatever she was saying. Meanwhile, Tim served him up his first shot.

“To new friends,” Tim said.

“To new friends,” Gyro echoed.

They knocked them back simultaneously, both slamming the shot glass back down on the bar in unison. Gyro smiled, licking his grills as the warmth of alcohol settled deep in his bones. So maybe things had gotten off to a rough start, but this could still be a good night.

“Next one’s on me,” he said.

Cream Starter was the kind of punk that Gyro could jam with: plenty loud and energetic, but not jarring. It was the kind of music that you couldn’t help but bob your head or tap your feet to even if you weren't inclined to dance. The crowd was loving it, throwing their hands in the air and roaring with enthusiasm after every song. Every performer on stage got the chance to trot out an impressive solo throughout the set, including HP. Gyro and his companions were cheering the loudest for her when she finished her piece.

As the set went on, Gyro and Tim went on drinking, alternating who would buy each time. Tim was a powerhouse, downing them without even a grimace, and Gyro was determined to go shot-for-shot with him. For some reason, he felt like he needed to prove himself.

Soon Gyro had lost track of how much he’d drank or how much money he’d spent. He only realized how far gone he was when Lucy proposed going back out onto the dance floor. He jumped up enthusiastically from his stool, only for the room to tilt around him in a mildly concerning way.

Wow, he thought, blinking in surprise. Either he was getting older faster than he thought or that whiskey was stronger than he thought.

But then Tim clapped him on the back and Gyro decided that actually, he felt great.

“Let’s do this,” he declared to nobody. If anyone had asked, he would have been at a loss to say what this was, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t gonna go out there and do it.

First, though, he looked around for Johnny. It took him longer than it probably should have to find him, considering that neither of them were moving. When he finally found him, Johnny raised his brows.

“You good, cowboy?” he asked.

“I’m great,” Gyro said.

He smiled wide at Johnny, who just smirked back at him like he knew something Gyro didn’t know. Gyro didn’t mind, though. He had a cute smile.

“You’re slurring your words a lil’ bit, there,” Johnny said.

“Am I? Nyohoho, do I sound drunk? I’m not actually that drunk.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah. Yeah! Weren’t we gonna go out and dance or somethin’?” He now looked around for Tim and Lucy, who were pretty easy to find due to Tim’s unusual attire. “C’mon, Johnny, I wanna dance with you.”

He only meant to say I want to dance, but the last two words came out just as easily as the others. Once they were out there, though, Gyro was happy to have said them. He was immune to potential embarrassment right now. He didn’t even mind when Johnny laughed at him a little. 

“Do I look like someone who dances?” he asked, waving a brace.

“You look perfect,” Gyro said with the utmost conviction. “Come on, Johnny boy, we haven’t got all night!”

Johnny rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Jesus, you’re a handful.”

Gyro beamed at his smile, more or less deaf to his words. He wanted nothing more to make Johnny smile for the rest of the night. For the rest of forever, maybe.

He led Johnny out onto the floor, walking backwards and mouthing the words to a song that he didn’t know. It didn’t matter, since seeing him making up the lyrics just made Johnny’s smile widen.

“What, are you Cream Starter’s number one fan now?” he teased. He was yelling over the music, but Gyro felt like it was just the two of them in this whole room.

“If I’m number one, you’re number two,” Gyro said. “We should get shirts.” He gasped. “No, wait! We should follow them on tour. Become groupies! How would you like that, Johnny— leave our boring lives to become groupies.”

Johnny laughed and shook his head. “Only my life is boring, Gyro.”

“Nuh-uh,” Gyro said. “This is the most fun I’ve had like, ever.”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re three sheets to the wind.”

For some reason that was totally hysterical, mostly because it was utter nonsense to him. Gyro tipped his head back and laughed until there were tears in his eyes.

“I have no fucking clue what that means!” he said.

Johnny snickered at his reaction. “You know what? Me neither.”

They found a comfortable spot in the crowd just as the drummer started a wild solo that turned into the crescendo of the song. Gyro cheered and started jumping around wildly, while Johnny laughed his ass off watching him. Gyro had to do his ultimate best not to knock him over.

“C’mon, Johnny, you can move better than that,” he said, reaching out towards Johnny. He wanted any reason at all to put his arms around him.

“I really can’t, dude,” Johnny insisted. “Look, I’m dancing as best I can—“

Gyro’s reason came without warning: another jumping, probably equally drunk dancer bumped into Johnny from behind. He staggered forward, right into Gyro’s waiting arms.

To keep from falling, Johnny grabbed onto Gyro’s waist. Reflexively, Gyro grabbed him back to hold him up. It was so perfectly unexpected that Gyro was left completely speechless with Johnny’s head against his chest.

The song came to an end, leaving Gyro’s ears ringing. Johnny looked up at him, eyes wide and mortified. His fingers were curled in Gyro’s tank top in a way that Gyro found so adorable it was almost irresistible.

Now’s your chance, Gyro told himself. Kiss him.

No way, another, still-rational part of him argued. You’re drunk. And you still don’t even know if he’s into dudes!

Gyro licked his lips. Only one way to find out—

Before he could act on any of those thoughts, however, Johnny planted his braces on the ground and pushed himself up and off of Gyro again. He looked upset, which was the last thing that Gyro wanted.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Are you okay?” Gyro asked, finally regaining control of his tongue. “Shit, did you see who hit you? I swear to God, I’ll make them—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Johnny said, cutting him off. “It was an accident. Thanks for catching me.”

“I—“

Gyro started to say something when someone tapped on his shoulder— or tried to tap, but with a very heavy hand. Gyro was almost forcibly turned around to face Tim. He looked like he was having a hell of a good time, judging from the sheen of sweat on his face and slightly-unfocused eyes.

“There ya are, buddy!” Tim said. His accent was even stronger than Johnny’s all of a sudden. “Thought I lost ya there. Anyway, you been to one of these things before, right?”

“Uh—“ Gyro tried to look over his shoulder, but couldn’t see Johnny all of a sudden.

The band kicked up again, a heavy beat with lots of shredding from the guitarist. The crowd went wild— they seemed to know this song, even though Gyro had never heard it in his life. Tim went on talking to him excitedly, his loud voice managing to drown out the music.

“Ya gotta teach me how to— what’s it called? Headband?”

“…head-bang?” Gyro grimaced, still looking around for Johnny. “Hold on a sec, Tim, I gotta—“

“It doesn’t seem that hard,” Tim went on, oblivious to Gyro’s plight. “I mean, you just kinda flail, right? Like—“

And then, in a misguided attempt at head-banging, Tim head-butted Gyro. Hard. Right in the face.

“Cazzo!” Gyro managed to stay standing, but stumbled back a few steps into someone else, who shoved him back in response. The world lurched and Gyro felt warmth running down his chin.

“Ah, shit!” Tim, evidently sobering up significantly seeing what he’d done, took Gyro’s shoulder and started leading him off the floor. “Goddamn, I’m sorry— bathroom, now.”

Gyro was too disoriented to argue. All of a sudden it felt like everyone was crashing into each other around him, losing themselves to the music. As Tim apologized profusely, all he could do was reassure him that it was okay, it was an accident, and ask where had Johnny gotten to?

“There you are.” Lucy reappeared behind Tim. Her eyes widened when she saw Gyro. “Wh— Gyro! What happened?”

“Little headbandin’ incident, that’s all,” Tim said. “I’m takin’ him to the bathroom.”

“I’m fine,” Gyro said, even as he tasted iron.

“You’ve got a bloody nose,” Lucy said. “Tim, let me take him.”

She grabbed Gyro’s elbow and kept pulling him along. Gyro kept looking around, searching for a little blonde guy on arm braces.

“Where’s Johnny at?” he asked, suddenly painfully aware of his slurred speech. God, he’d let himself get too drunk. “I gotta find ‘im.”

“Tim, you go find Johnny,” Lucy commanded. “I’m taking Gyro to the men’s room.”

“Johnny…” Gyro’s stomach lurched at the thought of Johnny getting knocked around by the crowd, which was getting more and more hyped up and crazy by the second. He swallowed back the feeling, telling himself that Tim would find him. Johnny didn’t exactly blend in, in any case.

Lucy ushered him into the men’s room, which was significantly quieter than the rest of the bar. There was one dude at a urinal, who quickly finished up and fled upon seeing a woman barge in with such determination.

Gyro got a look at himself in the mirror: his nose was really bleeding good, coating his mouth and chin, even dripping onto his shirt. It looked like he’d been in a fight. Luckily, as he touched around his nose, it didn’t feel like it was broken.

“God, I’m so sorry,” Lucy was babbling as she tore sheet after sheet of coarse paper towels from the dispenser and handed them to Gyro. She looked near tears. “Tim is such a nice guy, really, he just gets overexcited sometimes, especially when he’s been drinking—“

“It’s really fine,” Gyro said. He wet the paper towels in the sink and wiped off his face, but the blood wasn’t stopping yet. At least this was an injury that was easily dealt with. “It’s an occupational hazard when you’ve got a big nose— Can you get some toilet paper, actually?”

Lucy laughed weakly, ducking into a stall to grab a wad of toilet paper. As she did that, the door to the bathroom suddenly swung open again.

“Found Johnny,” Tim declared. He stepped aside to reveal Johnny right behind him.

“Fuckin’ hell, Gyro,” Johnny said, pushing past Tim to get to Gyro. “Can’t take my eyes off you for two seconds, can—“

Suddenly Johnny stopped. His eyes widened at the sight of Gyro’s bloodied face— his reddened hands— the pile of blood-soaked paper towels on the sink counter. Then, his pupils widened, almost swallowing his irises entirely. Gyro had never seen anything like it. The color went out of Johnny’s face, and he covered his mouth and nose like he was going to vomit.

“…Johnny?” Gyro said.

Johnny turned around abruptly and fled the bathroom as fast as his braces could carry him.

“Johnny!” Gyro tried to go after him, but wobbled dangerously when he took a step. He was still bleeding, and it wasn’t helping with his current state of inebriation.

“Hold on, Gyro,” Lucy scolded, handing him the toilet paper. “You’re not done here.”

“Must be scared of blood,” Tim mused. “Probably just ducked out for some fresh air.”

Gyro begrudgingly took the paper and wadded it up to form a makeshift plug. He tried really hard not to hold it against Tim, who was still looking a bit like a kicked dog for his role in the chaos. Gyro was just glad that he didn’t get a tooth knocked out or something. Tim was certainly capable of that. If that was just an inadvertent attack, Gyro would hate to get in an actual fight with him.

Eventually, Gyro managed to stem the flow. As soon as he was able to take the paper out of his nose without triggering another stream of blood, he thanked Lucy, reassured Tim again that there were no hard feelings, and headed out looking for Johnny. He had to find a way to salvage this night.

Notes:

noootes~
>Cream Starter's regular guitarist is Sandman.
>ever heard the phrase "three sheets to the wind"? Apparently it has its origins in sailing and means that someone's so drunk that they're stumbling about like a ship tossed on the waves. Neither Johnny nor Gyro have any idea of this, I just thought it was interesting!
>more on this later, but just in case you were worrying, Tim and Lucy are just friends. She's still too young for him.
Next chapter will pick up right where this one left off! :D thanks for reading!

Chapter 4: one of the drunks

Summary:

Johnny tries his best to get Gyro home safely. How hard can it be?

Notes:

helloooo chapter 4! More drunken shenanigans in this one. :D Fun for us... not so fun for Gyro and Johnny! Chapter title is a Panic! at the Disco song.
Important note: some readers have expressed concern about Johnny's background given that he's a vampire from the South; was he involved in the Civil War? I can safely say without spoiling anything that that is not the case whatsoever. Johnny was not a Confederate soldier or anything like that (and frankly, I would never write him as one). I hope that assuages your worries!
ETA: there's art of these chapters!! Thank you 1000x to Ann/Marshroomaru for drawing this lovely Gyro (technically from the previous chapter, but it's a bit of spoiler so I put it here hehehe). I'm so thrilled with all the fanart that people have made for this AU, it really warms my heart. Thank you again!

HP’s band had just finished their last song and stepped off stage. They’d attracted a good crowd, but Gyro didn’t think that Johnny would be amidst the revelers. He scoped out the bar but didn’t see a telltale blue beanie.

Maybe Tim was right, and the sight of blood made Johnny nauseous so he went outside. Gyro headed for the nearest glowing exit sign, emerging back into the deserted alley where they’d come from.

Sure enough, Johnny was sitting on a large crate against the wall, his head in his hands. When Gyro opened the door, releasing a blast of hot air and the distant sounds of music, he looked up. Gyro saw him swallow heavily and take up his braces again. With some effort, he stood. 

“Hey,” Johnny said. “You… good?”

“Yeah, m’ fine,” Gyro said. “I was just…”

He trailed off, swaying slightly. The adrenaline was wearing off, allowing the whiskey to catch up with him. He’d thought that the swirling lights were just stage effects, but it turned out that it was his vision that was swimming.

He made his way over to Johnny and let himself fall against the wall right next to him with a sigh. Johnny eyed him.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked. 

“Mm…” Gyro rubbed his forehead. “I think I’ve had enough.”

Johnny snorted. “Yeah. Good to know that Tennessee whiskey hasn’t gotten any weaker.”

Gyro’s knees were barely keeping him up. Thank God for this wall here. Still, he didn’t know how he let it get this bad. He wasn’t usually an irresponsible drinker in the slightest. Nerves, maybe? He pushed himself up straight with some effort, glancing at Johnny out of the corner of his eye.

“God… M’ sorry ‘bout this, Johnny,” he muttered.

Johnny frowned. “What’re you sorry for?”

“I wanted you to have a good time,” Gyro said. “Then I had to go and be… y’know.”

He waved his hand vaguely. “A messy bitch.”

Johnny laughed and shook his head. “You’re for sure not the messiest bitch out there, Gyro. Did you see Tim? Dude was so cross-eyed that he couldn’t decide which one of me to talk to. And I did have a good time.”

Gyro gave him a hopeful look. “You did?”

Johnny nodded. He raised his brows at Gyro like he was daring him to argue with him. Even in this dark, dingy alley, he had eyes like pilot lights. Looking into them made Gyro feel like he was getting his second wind. He smiled stupidly.

“Cool,” he said.

His heart started to pound again as Johnny kept looking at him. Almost like he, too, was waiting for something. Gyro was once more prompted to ask himself, what’s the worst that could happen?

But then, Johnny’s gaze slid over to focus on something behind Gyro. His eyes flashed with some unfriendly emotion and his expression immediately became a scowl.

“I thought I smelled shit,” he said lowly. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

It took Gyro a startled second to realize that Johnny wasn’t speaking to him anymore. Then, the person that Johnny was addressing spoke up.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Joestar,” said a smooth British accent. “I’m just passing through and stopped to help out a friend. Certainly not hunting on your pathetic turf.”

Gyro spun around to see the guitarist from Cream Starter, whose name he couldn’t remember for the life of him. The guy had partially cleaned the makeup off his face, revealing a sharp-faced young man with a smug smile. He hadn’t completely ditched the cosmetics, though— he must’ve had some sort of contact lenses in, because he had pupils like slits.

He looked Gyro up and down and his smile widened. Gyro could see that he also had some sort of, like, costume fangs in his mouth or something. Man, he was really dedicated to his aesthetic, whatever it was.

“Although I see that you’ve found yourself a little catch,” he said.

Gyro wasn’t sharp enough at the moment to completely get what he was implying, but he detected a weird… charge to that statement. Like, maybe a sexual connotation? It was still a gay bar, after all.

He was about to open his mouth and tell the guy to mind his own business when Johnny grabbed his arm hard, yanking him back with unforeseen strength. Gyro could only stumble in the direction that he was pulled, so that Johnny was standing in front of him.

Hey, wait a minute, he thought. He was way bigger than Johnny, shouldn’t he be in front?

“Get away, Diego,” Johnny growled. Gyro had never heard his voice like that before: low, dark, and sharp as a dagger. It was kinda sexy.

Diego barked out a harsh laugh, folding his arms. “Now, Johnny, there’s no need to get territorial! This one’s all yours, don’t worry.”

He sniffed the air in a very disconcerting gesture. “I’m not in the mood for Italian, anyway.”

“I told you to fuck off!” Johnny shouted. “Or else!”

Gyro had to admit he was thoroughly confused. He kind of got the vibe that they were talking about him, but like, in a really, really weird way. Like, what was this Diego guy trying to imply? And why was Johnny getting so angry? He seriously sounded infuriated.

Diego seemed to take offense at Johnny’s outburst. He stalked closer, his smile curling into a snarl.

“Or else what?” he asked. “Are you planning on fighting me, Diego Brando?”

“I’ll do whatever I have to,” Johnny said.

Gyro’s eyes widened at the mention of a fight. Diego wasn’t a muscle head or anything by the looks of it, but Johnny was still at a significant disadvantage. Now Gyro really wanted to get between Johnny and this guy. He tried to shoulder past Johnny to confront Diego, but Johnny barred him firmly with an arm across Gyro’s chest.

“Don’t, Gyro,” he hissed. “I’m serious.”

Surprisingly, Gyro couldn’t push past him. He tried, but Johnny was too strong. The pure astonishment that Johnny might actually be stronger than him made Gyro back off. He figured that Johnny would have a strong upper body, but not that strong.

Diego just laughed. He stepped back again, his smarmy smile returning.

“He’s a fighter, huh?” he said. “You’re lucky that I’m not in the mood, Johnny. You’ve already got your hands full.”

He turned and headed back towards the stage door to go back inside— although not before throwing an arrogant glance over his shoulder.

“Enjoy your meal,” he said with faux-affability.

Then Diego disappeared back into Blackmore’s, slamming the door behind him. Johnny turned around to Gyro immediately. He had a deep scowl on his face.

“We should get you home,” he said. “Come on.”

He grabbed Gyro’s wrist with an iron grip that told him he didn’t have much say in the matter. Gyro hesitated, digging his heels in a little to keep Johnny from simply dragging him away.

“I should really tell Lucy if I’m gonna leave,” he said. “Otherwise she’ll blow up my phone wondering where I went.”

Johnny’s grip relaxed. “All right. We’ll find her.”

They went back inside, Gyro following close behind Johnny. He couldn’t help but look at the smaller man in front of him with some trepidation. Who was Diego, and how did Johnny know him? He gave Gyro dangerous vibes, which was the exact opposite of how he viewed Johnny. If he wasn’t so wasted he could probably think more critically about it, but a good amount of his brain power was devoted to not tripping and eating shit as they made their way back inside.

Johnny took charge of locating Lucy and Tim. They were back at the bar, where Tim was nursing an ice water. Upon seeing Johnny and Gyro, they both perked up.

“Everything okay?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “I think we’re ready to leave, though.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Lucy said. “Cream Starter is done playing anyway. I tried to see HP, but she’s probably busy with fans. Do you want me to drive you home?”

“That’d be great."

After squaring the tabs, the four of them left through the front door, looking only mildly worse for wear in Gyro’s professional opinion. Lucy was parked nearby and led them to her car. It was one of those tiny models where Lucy had to push the front seats forward so that Johnny and Gyro could climb into the back. With the added obstacle of Johnny’s braces, it ended up being a pretty tight fit.

Johnny’s shoulder was right up against Gyro’s— the kid was practically falling into his lap. Johnny kept his face forward though, his expression indiscernible in the darkness. Gyro kept his hands glued to his knees even though his body was longing to put his arm around Johnny.

At this point in the night, all Gyro wanted to do was cuddle up and go to sleep. The gentle motion of the car only exacerbated his sudden-onset drowsiness. The next thing he knew, his cheek was resting against the cool glass of the window and they were coming to a stop.

“This is your place, right, Gyro?” Lucy asked.

Gyro looked out the window blearily. “Yeah, this’s me. See ya, guys…”

But as he squeezed out of the car, Johnny followed right behind him. Gyro cocked his head at him, but Johnny didn’t acknowledge him.

“I’ll make sure he gets in all right,” he said. “I don’t live far from here, I can get home on my own.”

Lucy chewed her lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, worst comes to worst I’ll just crash on Gyro’s couch,” Johnny said. “You take care of Tim, all right?”

“I’m fine,” Tim insisted— although from his limp-wristed wave of dismissal it was clear that he was not, as he claimed, “fine.”

“Will do,” Lucy said. “Be safe, you two.”

“Thanks, Lucy,” Gyro managed to get out. Lucy smiled at him and gave a little wave before shutting her car door again.

“All right,” Johnny said, turning towards Gyro’s apartment building. “Where do you live in this place?”

“Fourth floor,” Gyro said. “There’s an elevator.”

“You got your keys?”

“Um…” Gyro patted himself down. He honestly wouldn’t have known if he didn’t have them until then, but thankfully they were still in his jacket pocket. “Yup.”

“Great,” Johnny said, voice conveying the opposite sentiment. “Let’s go.”

As they hobbled to the elevator together, one from intoxication and the other on braces, Gyro thought that this wasn’t the way that he wanted to get Johnny back to his apartment. He wished he wasn’t so damn tired. He’d like to at least talk with Johnny more. He felt like he’d missed his shot multiple times at the bar. Would he ever get another one…?

Johnny punched in the fourth floor as Gyro leaned heavily against the mirrored wall of the elevator. The bright lights were starting to bother him. He needed some water or something. His throat was parched.

“Gyro.” Johnny was tugging on his jacket sleeve. The elevator had arrived at the fourth floor without Gyro even registering it.

Gyro nodded absently and followed him. It was a good thing that he trusted Johnny. He could totally rob Gyro blind right now if he wanted to. Imagine if he was a cat burglar and this was his modus operandi: seduce young foreigners with his adorable eyes and pretty lips, get them drunk and have them let him into their apartments just to steal everything they owned.

Gyro wasn’t particularly perturbed by this thought, however. The mental image of Johnny dressed like a stereotypical robber, with a striped shirt and eye mask, just made him giggle to himself.

Johnny gave him a long-suffering look as they arrived at Gyro’s door. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” Gyro said.

That came out wrong. Johnny frowned and Gyro backpedaled.

“No, not you— me,” he tried to explain. “I’m just like… why the hell am I letting you into my house?”

He giggled again, almost against his will. Johnny only seemed mildly less offended by this reasoning.

“I still don’t get it,” he said.

“Well, y’know, it’s like…” Gyro made a few gestures that even he didn’t really know the meaning of. “I’ve only known you for, like, two months.”

It was supposed to be a simple observation, but the reaction Gyro got told him that Johnny evidently didn’t take it that way. He turned away, mouth tight.

“You don’t have to let me into your house,” he said in a pinched voice.

God, this was going up in smoke! Gyro needed to learn when to keep his mouth shut. Problem was, if he couldn’t do it when he was sober, he definitely wouldn’t be able to manage when he was drunk.

“No— no, that’s not what I meant,” Gyro pleaded. “No, I want you to come in. I mean like— you’re just so… you, y’know? It’s great. It’s awesome. I trust you, like, so much. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me.”

That last part, with all its implications, escaped unnoticed from his mouth. Gyro was much more focused on fishing his keys out of his pocket and handing them to Johnny. He didn’t understand why Johnny’s face had gone somewhat red at the end of his rambling speech, but he thought it was cute and smiled.

“Feels like I’ve known you my whole life,” he said.

Johnny quickly took the keys and turned his attention to Gyro’s lock. Gyro had never seen someone fit a key into a lock with such intense focus.

“Let’s just get you to bed, okay?” he muttered.

Gyro sighed, feeling like he’d totally saved the day on that one. “‘Kay.”

Johnny opened his door and quickly ushered Gyro inside. Home sweet home. Gyro immediately kicked off his boots and cast his jacket aside.

On the other hand, Johnny hung back for a moment, just outside the threshold. Gyro looked back at him, confused. Was he still mad about what Gyro had said? Maybe he hadn’t totally saved the day after all…

“I said you could come in, didn’t I?” he asked. 

“You said you wanted me to come in,” Johnny said. “Not that I could. There’s a difference.”

Gyro gave him a funny look. “You can come in, Johnny.”

Johnny nodded and finally entered, shutting the door behind him. He looked around Gyro’s apartment with an arched brow. In normal circumstances Gyro would’ve wondered what he was thinking, seeing where Gyro lived for the first time, but right now he was becoming pretty fixated on the idea of bed.

“Where’s your room?” Johnny asked. 

“Down here,” Gyro said, beckoning Johnny down the hall.

There was just one bedroom— thank God he didn’t need to have roommates to afford this place— that was sparsely decorated, containing just his bed and a table next to it with a lamp. He did have his teddy bear, though, to add a pop of color. Gyro tossed himself onto the bed, sighing into his pillow. Finally…

“You just wait there,” Johnny said. “I’ll get you some water.”

He’s doing all that for me? Gyro’s heart swelled.

“Aw,” he said in a joking tone. “You’re so nice to me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Johnny rolled his eyes. “Get comfy.”

He left the room to find his way to the kitchen, leaving Gyro to “get comfy.” Well.. he was pretty uncomfortable, come to think of it. His jeans were too tight and his shirt had spots of blood on it.

He dragged himself out of bed to rummage through a pile of clothes on the floor, looking for something decent to wear. He came across a pair of sweatpants, but no shirts that he liked. He was too lazy to search through his drawers or closet, so he just changed into the sweatpants and stripped off his shirt without putting on a replacement.

Gyro got back into bed, huddling under the covers and immediately letting his eyes shut. He had few, if any, thoughts in his head.

“C’mon,” a voice roused him. “Drink some of this.”

Gyro blinked awake. Johnny was at his bedside with a glass of water. Hey, when he’d get here? Gyro was glad to see him, though. He accepted the water without saying anything and downed it in one gulp.

“Thanks,” he slurred, voice having become even heavier with sleep. “You gonna stay?”

Johnny’s brows knit. “I can’t, Gyro.”

He got up abruptly, then paused as if suddenly realizing something. He gripped his thigh, a pained look coming over his face.

“Ugh— shit,” he muttered to himself. "C'mon, don’t do this now…”

He tried to steady himself on his braces but it was too late. Johnny’s knees must’ve given out because the next moment he was stumbling forward, dropping his braces. His knees hit the edge of Gyro’s bed and his hands went out to catch himself, but Gyro was there to catch him instead.

But unlike before in the bar, Johnny didn’t fall into Gyro’s arms. He managed to steady himself with his hands on Gyro’s chest— then he pulled away as if he’d been burned, scrambling down the edge of the bed.

“Fuck!” Johnny swore, shaking his hand. “What was—“

He did a double-take at Gyro. “Wh—When did you take off your shirt?!”

Gyro looked down wide-eyed, almost having forgotten that fact himself. Yeah, he was just wearing sweatpants and his cross necklace, now. Johnny’s violent reaction bewildered him for a moment, before he realized what he might be thinking.

“D-Don’t worry!” he said quickly, waving his hands. “I’m not— I’ve got pants on!”

“You— okay, Jesus.” Johnny rubbed his temple in exasperation.

“M’ sorry, I was just getting— what did you say? Comfy?” Gyro scratched the back of his neck. “Not tryna… you know.”

“Okay, Gyro, that’s enough,” Johnny said. “You need to go to sleep.”

“Are you okay?” Gyro asked. “You fell…”

“I’m fine,” Johnny said firmly. “My legs are just weak from all the standing. I’ve really gotta go, Gyro—“

He started gathering up his braces again as Gyro scrambled for something to say.

“Wait, Johnny, I didn’t mean to freak you out,” he said. “You can stay here on the couch if you want— wait, no, I’ll stay on the couch, you can have my bed—“

“No, Gyro,” Johnny said. “Just— just keep drinking water, okay?”

He struggled to get to his feet. Gyro cringed, watching him. When Johnny finally got to standing, he had such a frustrated look on his face that Gyro couldn’t help but feel guilty. His head was beginning to really pound now.

He hated that the night was going to end like this. He’d been so determined to give Johnny a good night out, and he had to go and fuck it up in all sorts of ways. He looked up at Johnny like a dog with its tail between its legs.

“Did I ruin it?” he asked softly.

Johnny’s irritated expression melted into one of confusion. He looked so adorable with his brows furrowed and a slight crinkle to his nose. “Ruin what?”

“I dunno,” Gyro said. “The concert. The night. Everything…?”

Johnny stared at him for a moment. Then he sighed and shook his head. He sat back down on the edge of Gyro’s bed.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he said in a placating voice. “If anything, this is my fault.”

“Your fault…?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “Do me a favor and forget as much of this as you can, all right?”

He gave Gyro a smile so small and sad that it broke his heart. Gyro couldn’t hold himself up anymore and fell onto his side, staring at Johnny the whole time. It felt like he was getting further and further away, despite not moving.

“I’d do whatever you asked me,” he mumbled.

Johnny’s smile got wider, but it also got sadder.

“I know,” he said. “That’s what worries me.”

That was the last thing that Gyro saw before he passed out: Johnny smiling at him, looking like he might’ve had tears in his eyes.

---

Finally, Gyro fell asleep. Johnny could tell from the steady rhythm of his breathing. He could sense Gyro’s heart rate slowing, settling. He could sense it even when he went to the other room: a slow metronome, back and forth, the beat of life.

Johnny took a look around, but he didn’t think he could stay here safely. Gyro had just blinds over his windows. Not enough to block out the sun effectively. Come dawn, Johnny would be in real trouble.

He limped to the kitchen. His walking was getting worse and worse with each passing minute. He didn’t have enough strength in him to stay here much longer, but he wanted to stay with Gyro as long as possible.

It was a matter of both sentimentality and security. Diego said that he’d leave Gyro to Johnny— a thought which made him shudder— but Johnny also knew that he had Gyro’s scent. There was no way that he didn’t. The smell of blood wafted about Gyro all the way home. Johnny had been on edge the whole time.

He was still on edge, what with everything that had happened. It was like each event had been crafted to test him: the bloody nose, then bloody Diego, then wrangling Gyro back here. Johnny went into the kitchen and ran his hand under some cold water to soothe his burn. A small cross-shaped welt was forming on his palm.

“Goddamnit,” he whispered. Johnny might’ve not been able to touch the Lord’s symbols anymore, but he could sure take His name in vain. “God fucking damnit.”

It only comforted him a little.

He went back to Gyro’s room and sat down on the edge of the bed. Gyro had really passed the fuck out. He didn’t stir at all when Johnny sat down. Johnny was a little jealous. He missed sleep. It used to be such a good tool for getting away from his thoughts.

Johnny sat with Gyro for a little while, sometimes staring at the wall, sometimes watching his chest rise and fall. He knew it was creepy, but sometimes it felt like Gyro was the only thing keeping him sane.

Honestly, he didn’t think that Gyro would mind all too much either. That whiskey had really made him honest. Too honest, maybe. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me. Christ Almighty, that nearly took the wind out of Johnny. If things were different…

No, he told himself. Don’t even entertain it.

Johnny sighed, then coughed like he’d inhaled sulfur. That smell was still lingering. God, it was maddening. Johnny felt like an addict.

Well, in a way, he was. In the same way that humans were addicted to food and water, at least.

His precise senses told him exactly where the smell was coming from: a shapeless lump on Gyro’s floor. Johnny narrowed his eyes at it. It was the shirt that Gyro had been wearing tonight.

Don’t, he told himself, trying to get a grip. Johnny. Do. Not.

But it was right there. Gyro was dead asleep. And Johnny had to get out of here somehow. He needed the strength.

He glanced at Gyro one more time, then slowly lowered himself to the floor. This made him feel even more like an animal, but he had no choice. Johnny crawled over to Gyro’s shirt and picked it up.

He unfolded it. There were a few… spots. Not quite dry.

Cringing, cursing himself, Johnny brought the fabric to his mouth.

Notes:

gasp, is that a rare Johnny POV!?! yes it was... they're few and far between, but important when they do crop up!
notes:
> In the SBR translation that I refer to (by the JoJo's Colored Adventure team), Johnny occasionally has outbursts of "bloody hell" or such similar Britishisms. Whether this is accurate to the original Japanese I have no idea, but I think it's hilarious to imagine that Johnny picked up some minor language quirks like that while living in Britain and now spouts them in his thick Kentucky accent.
> Can you spot all the pieces of "classic" vampire lore? :D There are three vampire weaknesses/limitations taken directly from Bram Stoker in this chapter!
> Support from his family is the only way that Gyro can afford to live alone. Thanks daddy Zeppeli! /sarcasm

Chapter 5: the hardest part

Summary:

Once sobered up, Gyro smooths things over with Johnny. Or at least, he tries to.

Notes:

time to deal with the aftermath of that crazy night out! fingers crossed that everything goes well, eh?
Chapter title is a song by Coldplay! (yes I enjoy Coldplay's earlier albums, don't @ me)

Time passed. Gyro couldn’t say how long exactly. Somewhere between asleep and awake, he didn’t know what was a dream and what was actually happening. He thought that he saw Johnny leave soon after their conversation ended, but also thought he felt Johnny sitting on the edge of his bed for a long time after he was supposed to be gone. The perceived presence, be it real or not, comforted him.

Whatever the reality was, Johnny was gone when Gyro awoke. He cracked his eyes open, then cursed at the bright light flooding his room and shut them tight again. He had a serious headache. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a hangover like this.

Come to think of it, he couldn't remember a lot of things. What the fuck happened last night…?

Gyro tried to recollect, but it was a blur. They were at the concert… he was doing shots with Tim… then he almost got his nose broken. Gyro remembered going out into the alley with Johnny and meeting the weirdo guitarist, but he couldn’t recall the guy’s name or much of what he’d said. He was just, like, really into freaky cosmetics.

After that, things got even hazier. They went back into the bar… then got into a car after that? Was it Lucy’s car? Yeah, it must’ve been. Lucy dropped him off at his apartment building and Johnny helped him inside.

That was pretty much the end of Gyro’s memory. He’d been more or less asleep on his feet after they got into the elevator.

God, I hope I didn’t say or do anything embarrassing, Gyro thought, rubbing his face. Especially to Johnny. The fact that they’d been alone for at least some amount of time during his blackout period worried him. What if he said something weird— like, irredeemably weird? What if he accidentally let slip to Johnny how he felt about him…?

A pang of anxiety dragged his heart down into his gut. He groped around for his phone, finally locating it under his pillow. It was almost out of battery. He was so drunk last night that he must've forgotten to plug it in to charge. Gyro held his breath, praying it would stay on as he opened up a new text message to Johnny.

hey sorry about last night, i think i got a little carried away. u good?

He sent it, then went about locating his charger (and getting some more water to drink). By the time he returned to his phone, he already had a new message from Johnny. His heart rate picked up as he read it.

all good here. and yeah u kinda did

Ugh, that was vague. Gyro tried to formulate a tactful way of asking “hey, did I hit on you last night?” But it was a challenge. He should just quit drinking entirely so this never happened to him again. Then again, he said that every time that alcohol made him do something stupid.

Before he could craft the perfect message, however, another text from Johnny arrived:

how much do u remember

“Fuuuck,” Gyro groaned.

haha wellll after tim head butted me things get a little blurry…

He send a nervous-laughing emoji with that, hoping to ease the tension. Johnny replied almost immediately.

can u be specific

“Jesus fuck, what did I do,” Gyro muttered as he typed.

i kinda remember going out in the alley but then only bits and pieces after that… thanks for helping me get home by the way

He was tempted to send a heart to express his gratitude, but thought with the context it might not be a good idea.

Johnny didn’t reply for a little while after that. The wait for his response nearly drove Gyro up the wall. He brushed his teeth way too hard, trying to get the taste of whiskey and iron off his tongue, then splashed his face with cold water. Multiple times.

After that he tried to straighten out his room a little, painfully aware that Johnny had seen it in its full chaotic glory last night. He located the shirt that he’d been wearing, which he didn’t remember taking off but must have at some point. There were a few dark spots on it, which must’ve been from his bloody nose. The spots were bigger than he thought when he was drunk, though, which made him sigh. Hopefully it would still come out in the wash.

Eventually, his phone pinged again. Gyro nearly launched himself onto his bed to grab it and read Johnny’s latest message.

no problem, was all it said.

“All that time just for that?” Gyro complained aloud. He finally sucked it up and wrote what he’d been meaning to all along:

I didn’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, did I? If so I’m really sorry. It’s no excuse but I usually don’t drink like that. I promise it won’t happen again.

Surprisingly, Johnny’s reply was quick.

lol u know its serious when u start using proper caps and periods and shit

ur fine gyro. seriously. u were well behaved all things considered

Gyro sighed gustily, falling back on his bed.

UGH thank you so much johnny i fr owe u one

next time sugar’s is on me

This time, he did send a heart. Johnny responded with a few dollars-with-wings emojis.

say goodbye to ur doctor salary, he wrote.

Gyro grinned at that. i’ll write it off as a tax deduction, he replied, only to receive a curt eye-rolling emoji from Johnny. This joking exchange was how he knew things were back to normal. Finally, he could relax— and nurse his pounding head.

---

Before his next shift, Gyro arrived at Sugar’s a little earlier than usual. He planned on grabbing his and Johnny’s favorite corner booth and ordering Johnny’s usual diner fare so that it’d be ready by the time Johnny actually showed up. And Gyro would be paying for everything, of course. He’d made sure to bring his wallet.

Should I order something extra for him too, besides what he usually gets? Gyro asked himself, peering at the menu. It seemed like it’d be nice, but he had no idea what Johnny would like, or if he’d even want anything more. Sometimes it looked like he had trouble finishing just a plate of fries and a small milkshake. And the diner had such a range of options…

He was so engrossed in his decision-making that he hardly even looked up when the waiter approached.

“Welcome to Sugar’s, what can I… hold on— Gyro?”

Gyro looked up to see none other than Lucy’s cowboy friend. He was wearing the purple t-shirt uniform of the Sugar’s servers and an astonished expression. And, of course, his signature hat.

"Oh, hey, uh..." Gyro trailed off. Shit, what was his name? Dude nearly gave Gyro a concussion, he should remember his damn name—

“It’s Tim,” the cowboy supplied helpfully. “We met at Blackmore’s this past weekend. I… kinda gave you a bloody nose…?”

“Yeah, of course,” Gyro said smoothly. “How could I forget?”

“I’m real sorry about that, by the way,” Tim said. “I hope y’ain’t sore at me. Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

“You’re good, don’t worry,” Gyro said. He was in no position to be criticizing people on the basis of their behavior while intoxicated. “It’s good to see you. Do you work here?”

“Heh, not usually.” Tim picked at the collar of his shirt, which looked like it might be a size too small for him. “My aunt and uncle own this place, actually. Sometimes when they’re real short-staffed I drop by to help out, since I live nearby.”

“I see,” Gyro said. “Makes sense— Johnny and I come here almost every night and we’ve never seen you.”

“Oh, really? Small world,” Tim said with a laugh. “So you’re waitin’ on Johnny, then? That’s the little blonde guy, right?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“He make it home okay that night?”

“Yeah,” Gyro said, although he had no idea how. He hated the idea of Johnny walking alone on his arm braces. Maybe he’d called an Uber or something. “How about you and Lucy?”

“No trouble there,” Tim said. “We got back to our place just fine.”

Gyro raised his brows a bit at that. Our place? Lucy was a little young for Tim, wasn’t she? Like… at least ten years younger than him?

“You and Lucy… live together?” he asked cautiously. 

“Oh— no, no, nothin’ like that,” Tim said, waving his hands. “Just on the same property. I live in Lucy’s dad’s guest house, seein’ as I take care of his animals. That’s my day job, see— I’m a horse trainer.”

Gyro relaxed at that, but he also perked up. He thought the whole cowboy thing was an act, but apparently not. “You work with horses?”

“Yessir,” Tim said.

“You’ve gotta tell Johnny that when he gets here,” Gyro said. “He used to be a jockey. A pretty good one, too, from what he’s told me.”

“Really? Fascinatin’,” Tim said. “D’you know if he still rides?”

“Not that I know of,” Gyro said. “But I can tell that he misses it.”

Tim nodded thoughtfully. “You know what? You oughta ask Lucy if Mr. Steel would accept visitors to his barn.”

“You— you think he’d say yes?” Gyro was only barely able to hide his excitement. That would be a way better thing to do with Johnny than going to bars and parties and such. Gyro got the sense that that wasn't really Johnny's scene, but he knew for sure that Johnny loved horses. 

“Sure thing,” Tim said. “Steel’s a stand-up fella. He’d give ya the shirt off his back if you’re a friend of Lucy’s.”

“That’s awesome,” Gyro said. He couldn’t wait to propose the idea to Johnny. “Thanks so much, Tim. Johnny’ll be ecstatic.”

“No problem,” Tim said with a congenial smile. “After all the trouble I caused you, it’s the least I can do.”

“Here, can I text you about it?”

Gyro quickly retrieved his phone and handed it to Tim. Tim snorted and tucked his notepad under his arm to input his number.

“If I’da known you’d be so gung-ho about it, I woulda said something this weekend,” he said. “You got an anniversary coming up or something?”

Gyro frowned in confusion. “Anniversary?”

“Yeah, you and Johnny,” Tim said as he handed Gyro his phone back.

Gyro’s eyes widened as he understood what Tim was getting at. He coughed, pretending to look very intently at his phone to hide his blush.

“Uh, Johnny and I aren’t... like that,” he said. “We’re just friends.”

“O-Oh! You’re not?” Tim laughed in embarrassment. “Oh, Lord, do I look a fool! I’m sorry, I thought Lucy introduced y’all as a couple at Blackmore’s. I musta misheard.”

“It’s no big deal,” Gyro said, scratching the back of his neck.

Now he was wondering— did he and Johnny seem like a couple? As in, did it come across like there was some sort of chemistry between them...? 

“Anyway…” Tim flipped the page on his notebook with no small measure of awkwardness. “You wanna go ahead and get something, or d’you want me to come back when Johnny gets here?”

“Uh— I’ll order.” Gyro sat up straighter. He’d almost forgotten about the food entirely. “I’ll have a cup of coffee, myself. And Johnny’ll have a plate of fries and a small vanilla milkshake.”

“Gotcha,” Tim said, scribbling all that down at an impressive speed. “I’ll be right back with the coffee.”

“Thanks,” Gyro said, handing him the menu.

Tim went off and Gyro checked his phone for the time. It was almost one thirty. Johnny was usually here by now. He looked out the window, but it was too dark to see if anyone was approaching. All Gyro could see was his own slightly worried expression reflected back at him. 

His concern grew with every passing minute that Johnny failed to show up. Tim came back with his coffee, which he drank without hardly registering the taste or heat. He didn’t even add sugar.

Gyro considered sending Johnny a text. He looked through their recent conversation. Johnny didn’t mention anything about not being able to show up. Then again, he wasn’t always there when they were still meeting at the convenience store. But that was a while ago now. They were close enough to let each other know of their plans. At least, Gyro thought they were.

Sentimental, he scolded himself. Thinking too much, reading too much into it. God, his father would have a field day if he could see Gyro now. He was doing everything that Gregorio had always warned against and suffering for it. Just like his father said he would.

Tim showed up with the food that was designated for Johnny. He had a sort of apologetic look on his face that Gyro could hardly stand to look at. It was the sort of look that he ought to be giving some sad fuck who’d been stood up on a date—

But that wasn’t Gyro. He hadn’t been stood up. Because this wasn’t a date. It wasn’t anything.

The fries got cold while the milkshake got lukewarm. Gyro checked his phone again. He was expected at the hospital at two, and it was about a ten minute drive from here. It was one forty-five. Johnny had five minutes to show up before Gyro had to leave.

He stayed until two ten. Johnny never came.

---

After that, Gyro's shift was even more hellish than usual. Eight hours of being bossed around by senior staff members who were quick to remind him that he was still at the bottom of the food chain. And still no messages from Johnny. He checked surreptitiously every time he had a moment to himself.

Gyro refused to send something first, even if he was worried. He hated how weak he felt. He needed to get a grip. And yet, he kept checking, even as the hours stretched on and the likelihood of receiving anything dwindled.

Near the end of his shift, one of his superiors caught him on his phone when he was supposed to be listening to… something or other, Gyro honestly couldn’t say.

“Zeppeli,” he said sharply. “Pay attention. This is important.”

Gyro slipped his phone back into his pocket, mumbling an apology to both the older doctor and their patient. When they finally left the room, his superior pulled him aside.

Gyro didn’t know much about this guy, not even his first name— he was just called Wekapipo by everyone on the staff. He’d sort of accidentally become Gyro’s mentor since he, too, was Italian. From the same city, even. Gyro wondered if he’d ever worked with his father, but never had the courage to ask. Gregorio didn't have many friends anyway, even in his own industry.

Wekapipo gave him a stern look. “Do you want to tell me what that was about?”

“I apologize,” Gyro said, averting his eyes. “It’s personal. I shouldn’t have let it interfere with our work.”

Wekapipo frowned. The next time he spoke, he switched to Italian.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

Gyro looked up in surprise. He’d never heard Wekapipo speak Italian before. He realized that the older doctor was attempting to give him a small measure of privacy by not discussing this in English.

“It’s fine,” he replied in his native language. “Just concerned about a friend.”

“Something happened,” Wekapipo said, like he knew it for a fact.

Gyro shrugged. “Not really. He’s probably fine.”

“Hm.” Wekapipo switched back to English. “Before you leave tonight, I need you to check on how much blood we’ve got in storage. More of the supply seems to have gone missing recently.”

Gyro straightened up, doing his best to switch back to work mode. “Did someone break in?”

“Not as far as anyone can tell,” Wekapipo said. “I think there may be a clerical error somewhere in the system, but they haven’t squashed the bug yet. That’s why I want you to make sure the day shift is well-stocked.”

“Okay,” Gyro said. “I’ll get right on it.”

He turned to make his way to the nearest elevator when Wekapipo spoke again.

“And, Gyro?”

Gyro stopped and turned. Wekapipo had his arms folded, his brow arched.

“Take care of yourself," he said in Italian. 

Gyro nodded to him gratefully.

“Farò del mio meglio,” he replied. I’ll do my best.

---

The hospital kept its supply of blood in refrigerated units in a locked room downstairs. There was a lot of flow in and out, often uncoordinated, for various reasons: one could never predict how much blood might be needed in a given day, or how much the blood bank could supply, or any of the many variables that were inherent to medicine.

Gyro was sure that this was the reason for the “missing” units. But the hospital didn’t seem to be convinced, seeing as they posted an extra security guard in front of the hall leading to the storage. As Gyro approached, this shift’s guard lifted his head from his phone.

“Oh, hey, Gyro,” he said.

“Hey, Pocoloco,” Gyro said with a short wave. He was pretty friendly with a lot of the night workers, seeing as they were all in the badly-timed boat together.

“You going back to check on the blood?” Pocoloco asked.

“Yeah,” Gyro said. “Wekapipo’s orders.”

Pocoloco rolled his eyes. “I don’t get all the fuss, honest. Not like it’s gonna get up and run away.”

“I think they’re more worried that someone is running off with it,” Gyro said.

“Well, don’t look at me,” Pocoloco said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been here for three hours and I haven’t seen shit. This is the worst post in the whole hospital.”

“I’m sure they’ll let you off soon,” Gyro said. “As soon as they figure out what numbers they’re crunching wrong, they’ll realize that there’s no need to roll in the armed guard.”

Pocoloco snorted. “I hope you’re right. You need keys?”

“Nah, I got my own."

“Cool, less work for me.” Pocoloco resumed his phone game. “Go on back.”

“Thanks.”

Gyro headed down the hall, twirling his keys. There were times when he felt jealous of just about every other job in the hospital, but not Pocoloco’s current assignment. He was stuck down in a dark hallway, bored out of his mind, all because the admin couldn’t get their shit together and count bags of blood accurately.

He arrived at the door, which looked completely normal. Not tampered with at all, never forced open or anything like that. If someone was stealing from here, they’d have to have their own copy of the key or know someone who did. It would basically have to be a member of the staff themselves.

But that’d be ridiculous— everyone here knew how important this supply was. They’d have to be either heartless or desperate to do anything to it.

Gyro opened the door and went in. The room was chilly, lined with fridges holding the blood. Each one had a detailed chart recording the current amount, how much was taken out and for what purpose. Someone even had to sign off for every addition or subtraction on a clipboard attached to each storage unit.

“Hm.” He walked over to the far row and stopped to examine a chart. Everything seemed fine here…

Gyro heard the door swing open again with a rather loud creak. It must’ve been Pocoloco. That made him laugh a bit to himself— the door had a built-in alarm system in its rusty hinges, huh? Yet the hospital was still hemorrhaging. Literally.

That’s a pretty good gag, he thought. He went back down the row to relay it to Pocoloco— but it wasn’t Pocoloco who was in the room with him.

Rummaging through the nearest fridge, stacking his lap with as many bags as he could carry, was a man in a wheelchair. A man that Gyro knew from his dress and demeanor before he even turned around. The same one he’d been waiting on at Sugar’s earlier that night.

It was Johnny.

Notes:

J-JOHNNY?!? D: just kidding, everyone saw this coming from a mile away. Except Gyro, obviously.
notes:
> Tim and Sugar Mountain are cousins in this AU! Their family name is Montana.
> Furthermore, Lucy is Steven Steel's adopted daughter, not his wife.
> Despite all my research, I still know nothing about how blood is actually stored in hospitals/blood banks except that it's cooled/frozen. To anyone who actually works in a hospital and/or knows this information... sorry if I got it wrong! orz

Chapter 6: an escape

Summary:

Johnny's the one responsible for the missing blood at the hospital, but he's not without his reasons. However, for Gyro, those reasons are more than a little hard to swallow.

Notes:

WHEW things are picking up now aren't they! thank you for sticking with me this far, I promise we'll actually start with the vampire stuff now.
Chapter title is a song by my all-time favorite band, the Dear Hunter!
Content warning: mind control, mild panic attacks.

“What the fuck,” Gyro said aloud.

He probably shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just turned and ran to get Pocoloco as fast as he could. But he was in such shock at seeing his friend here, stocking up on blood like a raccoon looting a trashcan, that he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He could never keep his mouth shut when he should.

At the sound of his voice Johnny started and twisted around in his chair, clutching the bags to his chest. He had at least four in his arms, and as he turned Gyro could see he was putting them into a backpack. Stockpiling. Stealing.

Johnny stared at him as if uncomprehending. His face was white and he looked positively gaunt. Gyro had never seen him so bad. Gyro didn’t know what horrified him more: Johnny’s apparent condition or what he’d just caught him doing.

“Shit,” Johnny whispered. “It’s you.”

“Uh— yeah!” Gyro said. “What the hell are you—“

Johnny quickly pivoted his chair around. “Look at me, Gyro,” he hissed, pointing to his face.

Gyro didn’t know why it was that fucking important for him to listen to what Johnny wanted, all things considered, but he looked Johnny in the eyes anyway. He looked so frightened that Gyro felt a pang.

And there was something else about his eyes, too. Something… strange about them. They looked deeper than normal somehow, like his pupils were tunnels. Like Gyro could fall into them. He felt like he was teetering on the edge of an abyss.

“I don’t understand—“ he started to say.

“Be silent,” Johnny said.

The sound died in Gyro’s mouth. Johnny didn’t move an inch, didn’t do anything to him at all, but at his command Gyro’s tongue became lead.

Gyro put his hand to his throat, half-expecting it to be gouged open. Nothing else seemed to explain why he was silenced so abruptly. He was fine, but he couldn’t speak no matter how hard he tried.

His eye twitched. He willed himself to shout. Nothing. The only thing he could think of was to run, alert someone that way. He took a step back—

“Don’t move,” Johnny said.

There went that plan. Gyro tried to lift a foot to take another step but he couldn’t. He could only stare at Johnny, frozen and horrified.

Johnny looked just as terrified, however. He grabbed his temple, his eyes bulging and his lips trembling like he was on the verge of tears.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hissed, like he was talking to himself more than anybody else. “What the fuck is he doing here? What the fuck am I gonna do?”

Let go of me! Gyro screamed internally. He felt sick, not understanding what was happening to him. How could Johnny completely paralyze him without even touching him? It defied reason.

Johnny turned his gaze to Gyro, looking at helpless as Gyro felt.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he said. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You have to believe me. I’m not trying to hurt anyone... least of all you.”

Gyro stared. Then what the hell are you doing?

“I’m just— damnit, I don’t even know how to say it!” Johnny slammed his fist down on the arm of his chair. “Goddamnit, Gyro. How am I supposed to explain this to you? You’re never going to understand!" 

Give me a chance, Gyro pleaded silently. If you’d just talk to me, maybe I would.

He was trying with all of his power to fight whatever spell Johnny had him under, but all his efforts were in vain. Anything but... this!

Johnny shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. As Gyro watched— had no choice but to watch— the tears started to roll down Johnny’s cheeks in earnest.

“Nobody can understand,” he whispered. “Fucking shit, Gyro... why did it have to be you?" 

Johnny’s breath started to come fast as Gyro just stood there. He slapped a hand over his mouth, trying to stifle his emotion. But it seemed to only spill out more viciously the more he tried to hold it in— the gasps, the tears, the tremors.

Gyro couldn’t sustain his fear and anger, seeing his best friend like this. It all melted into concern. Why was Johnny doing this, if it caused him so much distress? He evidently took no pleasure in it. Whatever the reason, it had to be something that Johnny felt like he couldn’t ignore. He could only feel as trapped as Gyro did at this moment. And, despite everything, Gyro could only feel empathy for him.

Johnny curled into himself. At that moment Gyro felt himself released from whatever had been holding him. He exhaled like the wind was knocked out of him. His head spun in a way he’d never experienced before.

Did— did he let me go on accident? Gyro wondered. Johnny was doubled over, not making any noise, but his shoulders were shaking. 

“Johnny…” Gyro was almost startled to hear himself speak. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Johnny, what… what’s going on with you?”

Johnny's head shot up. Gyro reflexively closed his eyes, sensing that it was making eye contact with Johnny earlier that put him in that motionless trance. He knelt down and held his hand in Johnny’s direction in an attempt to signal good will.

“Let me help you, please,” he said. “Is someone forcing you to do this?”

“I—“ Johnny started to speak, then cut himself off. “You're offering to help me?" 

“Yes,” Gyro said plainly.

Johnny inhaled sharply, then exhaled with an audible shudder.

“You won’t understand,” he said. “You won’t believe me.”

“Yeah, well, before now I wouldn’t have believed that you could freeze people with your mind, and here we are,” Gyro said. He flexed his fingers. “Here I am. Believing it.”

Johnny was quiet for a moment, perhaps considering.

“Are you going to turn me in?” he asked in a small voice.

“No.”

“You promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“If you put the bags back, I won’t have to.”

Gyro heard the crinkle of plastic as Johnny hugged the bags closer to himself.

“I need these,” he said, sounding utterly desperate. “You don’t get it. I need them.”

So do the patients at this hospital, Gyro thought. He took a deep breath. “Can you put some of them back?”

“God— okay.”

Johnny sniffed. Gyro heard a fridge opening, some shuffling, and then the soft sound of it closing again. He had no way of telling if Johnny had actually done what he asked, however. Not without looking. 

I have to make sure, he thought. Just last week he'd assisted Wekapipo with an emergency transfusion. That blood could mean the difference between life and death for someone.  

“Johnny," he said in as placating a tone as he could muster, "if I open my eyes, can you promise me that you won’t do… um, whatever it was you did to me earlier?”

“Y-Yeah,” Johnny said. “I’m sorry. I panicked.”

Gyro opened his eyes. Johnny was looking right at him, tears staining his face. He looked even worse than before, if such a thing was possible. But his eyes no longer had that bottomless quality that had somehow sucked Gyro in before and taken his will away.

Still, Gyro looked away. He moved slowly, checking Johnny’s bag. He’d put back most of the bags he took, leaving him with only two. Letting Johnny take anything with him wasn't ideal, but Gyro had to negotiate somehow. Johnny's demeanor told him that he simply was not going to leave with nothing. 

“Thank you,” Gyro said softly. “How did you get in here?”

"...I used charisma." 

Gyro furrowed his brows, confused. “You mean you convinced them to let you back here? Or— did you bribe them?”

“No, I mean— I used that ability on them." Johnny tapped his temple by his eyes. "The same one I used on you, to make you do what I told you. I had them let me pass and forget that they ever saw me when I was out of sight.”

“Is—” Gyro swallowed thickly— “is that the sort of thing you could do to me? Make me forget I ever saw you?”

Johnny's voice was low when he answered. "Yes.”

Gyro exhaled. His heart was thundering in his ears. He felt like he was walking on a high wire, trying to stay balanced and not do anything to set Johnny off. It was clear he was volatile— perhaps it had something to do with his abysmal physical condition? Previously Gyro had been sure that Johnny wasn't an addict, but... right now, he didn't look any better than someone going through withdrawal. But even an addiction wouldn't explain the fucking mind control—

“Okay," he said. "I see. Um, can— can we agree to not do that?”

Johnny curled and uncurled his fists. “I… can’t promise that.”

I was afraid you might say that, Gyro thought. In that case, if he wanted to protect the hospital’s blood supply, he had to get Johnny away from here. That way he could at least be sure that Johnny didn’t steal any more blood for the time being.

“I understand,” he said. “Listen, Johnny. I don’t want to have the rest of this conversation here where anyone could waltz right in and hear us. Would you come back to my apartment so that you can tell me exactly what’s up?”

Now Johnny was the one avoiding Gyro’s gaze. "You won't—"

"You haven't even given me a chance," Gyro said. 

At that, Johnny looked up at him. They stared at each other for a moment, like in a showdown. Gyro was only barely able to make himself hold Johnny's gaze, knowing the power that it held. Knowing that Johnny could make all his newfound knowledge disappear with a simple command. 

And yet— he hadn't before when he had the chance. Johnny had let Gyro go. It might've been on accident, but it was something. Gyro knew he could get through to him. He had to get through to him. 

"Whatever's going on seems pretty serious," he said quietly. "I can tell that you're sick, and that's why you're doing this. That must be a big burden to shoulder alone. But it doesn't have to be this way, Johnny. Give me a chance, tell me what's up, and I promise to do my best to help you." 

In the end, Johnny was the one who looked away first. 

"...okay," he said. 

Gyro tried not to exhale too loudly so as to not betray how much tension he'd been holding. “All right. We should go, then.”

He gestured for Johnny to leave first. Johnny looked over his shoulder once more with an uncertain expression, but still wheeled out without saying anything. Gyro closed and locked the door behind him.

He was so focused on getting Johnny out of here that he didn’t even think about the security in the hospital until they were walking right past Pocoloco. Gyro froze up for a moment as Pocoloco raised his head briefly.

“See ya later, Gyro,” he said.

He made no mention of the wheelchair user beside him. He just went back to his phone as if nothing was wrong. Like Johnny wasn’t even there. Like his backpack wasn’t holding the missing blood that everyone was looking for.

Gyro looked at Johnny. Johnny shrugged.

“See ya, Poco,” Gyro said. “Have a good night.”

It was as easy as that. God, Johnny, Gyro thought. What else are you capable of?

---

Back at his apartment, Gyro sat down on the couch across from Johnny. He pointed to the ratty old backpack on Johnny’s lap and raised his eyebrows. 

“All right, I’m all ears,” he said. “What’s this about?”

Johnny bit his lip. “I’m just gonna say, you won’t believe it. It sounds crazy and I know it.”

“I told you, I’m prepared for crazy,” Gyro said.

“Not this kind of crazy.”

“Well, I won’t know whether to believe your story or not if I never hear it.”

“Fine,” Johnny said, throwing his hands up. “You wanna hear it? Fine. I’m a— I’m—“

He suddenly stopped, looking a bit like he was choking on something. Gyro waited. Johnny took another deep breath and lowered his eyes. On the exhale, he let the words out like he was releasing them from a cage. 

“I’m a vampire,” he said.

Gyro’s eyes widened, then narrowed. A what? 

“Are you serious?” he asked.

“Yes,” Johnny said. “I know how it sounds, trust me. But it’s the truth.”

“You’re… a vampire.”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Johnny said testily. He sighed, sinking back in his chair. 

Gyro was incredulous— understandably so, he thought. Here was his friend, who had never said anything even close to strange or unhinged, fully avowing that he was a vampire. It was entirely too ridiculous to come from Johnny with such seriousness. 

“Like... Dracula? Or more like Edward Cullen?” he asked.

“Fuck off, Gyro, I’m not fucking joking!” Johnny snapped. He grabbed the wheels of his chair angrily. “Fuck this— I knew you wouldn't believe me." 

“No, no, wait!” Gyro grabbed his arm to stop him. “Sorry, it was a bad time for a joke. I believe you.”

“I know that you don’t.”

“I do,” Gyro insisted. “Well— I don’t think you’re lying, at least.”

“Then you think I’m crazy, is that it?” Johnny said bitterly. “You think I’m doing this because I’m ‘sick’ or some medical bullshit like that.”

“I didn’t say that,” Gyro said.

It was a tempting conclusion, that was for sure. People could make themselves believe all sorts of things and act accordingly, with or without the influence of mental illness.

But... people couldn’t inflict their beliefs on others in an instant. Gyro didn’t know of any condition, physical or mental, that could give Johnny the ability to render him immobile.

“Well, say something,” Johnny said. “I can’t stand just sitting here in silence.”

“I’m thinking,” Gyro said.

“The one time you decide to think before you speak,” Johnny huffed, folding his arms.

Gyro almost laughed at that. For a scary moment back at the hospital, he’d thought that he’d never see the Johnny he knew again— the snarky, sarcastic Johnny that he held so dear. But it looked like that Johnny was still around. His Johnny.

“It does sound pretty… out there,” he admitted. “But the way you kept me from speaking or moving earlier— if I told anyone about that, they’d say I was crazy too.”

“Maybe you are,” Johnny muttered. “Maybe we both are.”

He stared ruefully at his backpack. “It’d be better than the truth.”

Gyro followed his gaze, cringing as he thought about its contents. Here he was thinking about his Johnny. But as it turned out, there were a lot of things that Gyro didn’t know about Johnny. Many, many things.

He resolved to take the vampire thing for granted at the moment. They wouldn’t move forward otherwise. Gyro wasn’t expecting to find out that any sort of mythical monster was real today, but what could he do except keep pressing onward? Maybe letting Johnny explain himself some more would clarify things.

“You’ve gotta answer some questions for me, Johnny,” he said. “I mean, a lot of questions.”

Johnny shrugged. “We’ve gotten this far. What am I gonna do, say no?”

“Okay—“ Gyro tried to organize his thoughts long enough to come up with a question. “That blood you’ve got— are you actually gonna drink it?”

“No, I’m gonna bathe in it to keep my youthful looks,” Johnny said dryly. “Yes, I’m gonna drink it. I have to. Can you ask better questions?”

“Testy,” Gyro muttered. “Why do you steal from the hospital, though? People need that blood, you know. Aren’t there any alternatives?”

Johnny sighed as if that, too, was a stupid question. “Gyro, this is the alternative. D’you know how else vampires get food? They hunt.”

The word hung heavy in the air. Gyro’s mind was immediately filled with images of exsanguinated bodies on dark streets. Everything that every horror story on the subject had ever warned of, basically.

Johnny pursed his lips. He seemed to know exactly where Gyro’s brain had gone.

“I don't do that," he said. "Hence the blood bags." 

“That’s comforting,” Gyro said.

“Don’t be sarcastic.”

“I’m not. I mean it.”

Gyro mustered a smile for him. Johnny held his gaze for a moment before looking away.

“With my legs the way they are, I probably couldn’t even hunt if I wanted to,” he muttered. “I’m no hero, trust me.”

His lips twitched for a moment like he wanted to say more, but then he shook his head and looked back at Gyro.

“Let’s just get this over with, okay?” he said. “What else do you wanna know? How long I’ve been nineteen or some shit like that?”

Gyro scratched his chin. “I thought you said you were twenty.”

Johnny gave him an unamused look. “I’m a hundred and forty-seven. It’s called ‘lying.’”

“Okay, okay, go back,” Gyro said. “So when were you born?”

“1872.”

Christ, Gyro thought. And here I was worried about him being underage.

“And… when did you become a vampire? When you were nineteen?”

“Yeah, in 1890.”

Eighteen ninety. That was over a hundred years ago. Before computers, before cars, before fucking penicillin. The whole world must have been different back then.

But Johnny— if he was to be believed— was not. He would’ve looked just as he did today. That was what made Gyro’s head spin the most.

“How did it happen?” Gyro asked. “Were you bitten by another vampire?”

“No, that's not how it works,” Johnny said. “In my case— well, I’ll make it simple.”

He gestured to his legs. “This happened when I was seventeen. Long story short, I got shot."

In 1888, Gyro calculated. Again, before modern medicine. It was a wonder Johnny even survived.

"I was looking for a way to fix it," Johnny said, "and my father just happened to have something that I thought might do the trick: an ancient stone mask. It was sort of a family heirloom. I heard that it could grant regenerative powers and then some, so I tried it. I thought, well, this probably isn’t gonna work, but if it does, I might walk again.”

His face darkened. “You can probably guess what happened instead.”

He told the story like he’d already done so a thousand times, but that last statement still managed to sound particularly dejected. Gyro couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him— to stumble across something that you think can heal you, only to have it turn you into something else entirely?

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Johnny paused, like he wasn’t expecting to hear that. Then he frowned.

“Don’t be,” he said. “I did it to myself.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck,” Gyro said. Then, as an afterthought, he added: “Excuse the pun.”

Johnny was silent for another moment. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. Pretty heartily, too. Gyro wasn’t sure if he was being mocked or what.

“Jesus,” he said when he was done. “You should know that that’s the first good vampire joke I’ve heard in a hundred years.”

“Thanks?” Gyro said with a half-laugh. “It was an accident, I swear.”

“That’s why it’s funny,” Johnny said. “Maybe the only reason.”

After seeing Johnny laugh, Gyro felt a little more relaxed. Things could go back to normal, it seemed. He was more grateful for that than he could express.

Despite every scrap of sensibility insisting that Johnny’s story couldn’t be true, Gyro found himself believing it. Starting to believe it, at least. Some previously inexplicable things about Johnny were starting to make sense: why he sometimes looked weak despite not being sick, why he never ate more than a few bites of regular food, why Gyro never saw him during the day, why he’d reacted so strongly to seeing Gyro’s bloody nose… if it were an act or con of some sort, it would’ve required a particularly high level of dedication for an extremely low payout. And Johnny had been hiding it, too— why would he put so much effort into a lie that he never wanted to tell in the first place?

Above all, Gyro had felt the effects of some sort of supernatural power. That couldn’t be faked, no matter how good of a con you were. Moreover… he’d seen the honest desperation in Johnny’s eyes at the hospital… the anguish at what he was doing. Like he really had no choice.

“We need to figure out this… this blood thing,” Gyro said.

Johnny cocked his head. “What is there to figure out? If I don’t drink blood, I’ll die in a very painful and unpleasant manner.”

“Well, other people could die if you take more than you need,” Gyro said tartly.

“Gyro, I already told you—“

“I’m not trying to stop you, Johnny,” Gyro said. “I’m trying to help you.”

Johnny stared at him, then blinked once. “You… you’re going to help me steal from the hospital?”

Gyro winced at that wording. He tried to find a better way to put it— perhaps for his sake more so than Johnny’s.

“To be fair, it’s not like it’s going to waste,” he said. “It’s there to save people’s lives… and it’s saving your life, right? So it’s not completely wrong.”

Perhaps that was a fucked-up way of looking at it, but it was Johnny. What was Gyro supposed to do, let him starve? He cared too much about him. He’d find any excuse.

“Do you have a plan?” Johnny asked incredulously.

“Sort of,” Gyro said. “It seems to me like the only reason that the hospital is freaking out about the missing bags is because too many of them go missing at once. Do you stock up each time you go in?”

“Yeah, I take as much as I can,” Johnny said. “That way I don’t have to go as often.”

“How long does it usually last you? Do you have to drink every day?”

“Coupla weeks,” Johnny said. “And no, but I get weaker the longer I hold out. One of these bags can keep me going for… I dunno, three or four days.”

“Okay, hold on.” Gyro went to his room and came back with a piece of paper and a pencil. He started jotting down numbers. “One bag equals 3 days, let’s say… and if the bags are 450 mil…”

Johnny peered over at the quick math that he was doing. “Hold on, what’re you doing?”

“Making a plan,” Gyro said. “How much have you got in storage now? Aside from the two you took today.”

Johnny pulled back again, eyes shifting. “…none.”

This must’ve been why Johnny would occasionally look more sick than usual: he must’ve run out of food and was desperately planning his next heist. It was like waiting until your pantry was completely empty to go grocery shopping… except you had to break into the store… and your groceries were life-saving medical supplies…

Well. All the more reason to come up with a plan. Gyro tsked.

“That won’t do, Johnny,” he said. “You need to start being smart with this. Take smaller amounts— no more than two bags— more frequently for a little while, build up a buffer, then ration. That way, it's less likely anyone will notice what you're up to. Oh, and look at the labels— blood can't be used for transfusion after six weeks, so you're gonna wanna take what's closest to expiring. If the older stuff goes missing it'll be assumed it just expired."  

"Wait..." Johnny's eyes were a little bugged out. "Hold on, Gyro—"

Gyro wasn't listening. "And don't touch the O negative blood, or I'll kick your ass myself." 

"Wh— dude, listen—"

Gyro tapped the paper with the end of his pencil. “We’re gonna get a schedule going for you. I’ll help iron it out as we go along— let you know how great the demand is, stuff like that. It’ll go smoother with someone on the inside. Obviously you don't have any trouble with security cameras or guards, but—"

"Gyro!" Johnny slapped his hand on Gyro's arm. 

Gyro finally stopped at that and looked up. Johnny was practically gaping at him. He looked completely blindsided by Gyro’s proposition. What, didn’t Johnny want to plan ahead at all? Gyro was just putting some numbers down to regulate his consumption and some guidelines to keep something terrible from happening. It was to everyone's benefit.

"Yeah?" he asked. "What's up?" 

“Why are you doing this?” Johnny asked. “Helping me, I mean.”

Gyro blinked. Good question. He looked down at the paper, then back up at Johnny. Part of him insisted he was doing it for the good of the hospital— but if that were the truth, then he'd just stop Johnny entirely.

Needless to say, he wasn't going to do that. Because it was Johnny: Gyro's first friend in this city, his best friend, his would-be-more-than-a-friend-if-he-asked…

Gyro gave him a gold-plated grin and answered that question with another: “What are friends for?”

Notes:

Task failed successfully. Gyro has joined the party!
Notes:
> Johnny's power of "charisma" is partially based off of Dracula, partially based off of Dio, and partially my own invention. Eye contact is required to initiate it, but not maintain it.
> Shoutout to Phantom Blood! Although the Stone Mask was the catalyst for Johnny's turning, he's not the same type of vampire as PB Dio (more on that later). In this AU Johnny's father, George Joestar, is actually George II (although he's still the same character from SBR). His father (Johnny's grandfather) was Jonathan Joestar— yes, that Jonathan Joestar. Jonathan's father, George I, acquired the stone mask in the same way as canon: he bought it at an art gallery. To put it simply: Johnny occupies the same spot in the family tree as Joseph in the original JoJo universe. (I know you're wondering about Dio and Diego, but just hold on to those questions for now!)
> O negative is the universal donor blood type, which means that anyone can receive a transfusion of it safely. It's extremely important, since it's the first choice for treating traumatic blood loss and can also be safely given to infants and preemies. Finally, it's the only blood type that O negative patients can receive safely. That's why Gyro instructs Johnny to leave that shit alone! (If you've read this far, consider donating blood if you can! Seriously, it's always needed, no matter what your blood type is.)
And that's all I've got for this one! If you like what I write, maybe follow me on Twitter or Tumblr? I post updates, previews, and answer all sorts of questions there!

Chapter 7: folie à deux

Summary:

Gyro adjusts to his new knowledge. Johnny does, too.

Notes:

Back at it again with chapter 7! This one is a quick breather before things get REAL interesting.
Chapter title is NOT a song this time, but the name of an album by Fall Out Boy! If you want a song to listen to while you read, try "What a Catch, Donnie" from said album. 😉

After putting their plan into effect, Gyro never received another anxious email from hospital admin again. He did his part, smudging numbers wherever he had the authority to do so, making sure there’d be an extra bag of blood here and there that nobody would miss. Johnny kept up his end of the deal too, starting a stockpile and promising to ration smartly.

The real noticeable effect was on Johnny. The first few weeks were rocky, but before long he no longer rolled into the diner looking sick and weak. He was eating on a regular schedule and looking more lively for it.

Gyro still had lots of questions about vampirism. He wasn’t trying to pry, he was just curious. From a medical standpoint, Johnny was fascinating. But he tried to never make Johnny feel like a specimen. Sometimes Johnny would humor him, sometimes he wouldn’t. It depended on the context.

At Sugar’s, for example, talking about Johnny’s “condition” was forbidden. Johnny worked hard to keep his identity a secret and it wouldn’t do to have someone overhear their conversations. So in order to talk more freely, Gyro started inviting Johnny over to his place to make “breakfast” together at midnight. Tonight was one such occasion.

“You want bacon, right?” Gyro asked.

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “I like it crispy.”

Gyro added another strip to the pan. He watched it start to sizzle, oil popping like fireworks.

“Been meaning to ask,” he said, turning to Johnny. “Do you still need to eat? Like, things besides blood?”

“No, not really,” Johnny said. “I just do it ‘cause it’s fun. Same with sleep— I can’t actually do it ‘cause I don’t need it, but sometimes it’s nice to lay down and close my eyes.”

“Huh. But you’re… alive?”

This was something he’d been going back and forth on for a few weeks now. Johnny was definitely immortal, given his lifespan, and eternally young, given his looks. But was he living?

Vampires were supposed to be undead. But Johnny breathed, and blinked, and occasionally ate things besides blood, and sweat and cried and did everything that corpses couldn’t do. At least, according to Gyro’s experience with corpses.

Johnny thrust out his hand towards Gyro. “You tell me.”

Gyro knew what Johnny was asking him to do. He placed two fingers on Johnny’s wrist. His skin was a little cold, but not frigid. Not dead.

And as Gyro held his fingers there, he felt something: a pulse. It was much slower than a normal human’s, he reckoned, but it was there. Johnny had a heartbeat.

“Ah,” he said.

Gyro looked from Johnny’s wrist to his face. He had such a cute expression: lips pursed, eyebrows raised, waiting for Gyro’s verdict even though he knew perfectly well what it would be. And his eyes— those eyes must’ve seen so much, but they were still so vibrant. So beautiful.

“Gyro,” Johnny said quietly.

“Yes?” Gyro breathed.

“You’re going to burn the food.”

“Uh— oh. Right.”

Gyro released Johnny’s wrist to go back to the stove, where the bacon was quickly becoming sufficiently crispy. Gyro turned the heat off and transferred the strips to a plate.

“So, does that answer your question?” Johnny said, folding his arms.

“I mean, yeah,” Gyro said. “You’re not dead. Or undead, I guess.”

It was like a disease, he hypothesized. Or a parasite, perhaps. Whatever resulted in vampirism completely hijacked the body’s systems, turning them to another purpose. If there was an opportunity for study, could the source be pinpointed? Could it be treated...?

Given his training, Gyro had to think about it in scientific terms in order to understand it. As for the things that escaped all known scientific explanation… well, he hadn’t quite reckoned with those yet.

Johnny sighed. He scooted closer to the table so he could stab a piece of bacon with a fork and bring it towards him. He inspected it for sufficient crispiness before taking a bite. Gyro watched him with barely-disguised fascination.

“Yeah, being a vampire is basically like being a human but worse,” Johnny said as he chewed. “You get less enjoyment out of the good things and more bad things to worry about.”

“You do have the eternal youth thing going for you,” Gyro pointed out. “Lots of people would kill to look like you for a hundred years.”

“What, to look like a scrawny nineteen-year-old in a wheelchair?” Johnny scowled. “For some reason I don’t imagine ‘em lining up.”

“Maybe you don’t,” Gyro muttered.

How trite: Johnny didn’t even know how beautiful he was. He went to the fridge to search for something to drink.

“Would you switch places with me?”

“No. But not because you’re unattractive.”

Johnny took a moment to respond. “You think I’m attractive?”

Gyro gulped. That had come out more or less accidentally. He stayed with his head in the fridge probably longer than was strictly necessary, pushing things around inside to seem busy as he tried to formulate an answer.

“Yeah, sure,” he said eventually, hoping his tone stayed appropriately casual.

“Hm. Well, it’s more limitations than it is benefits, I’ll tell you that much.”

Gyro exhaled in relief as Johnny changed the subject. He pretended like he finally managed to find the orange juice and shut the fridge. “Like the can’t-go-out-in-sunlight thing?”

“And the can’t-come-in-without-being-invited thing, and the can’t-go-on-holy-ground thing, and every other fucking thing,” Johnny said, tone rising in frustration. “It’s nothing but a fucking world of inconvenience!”

By the end of his sentence, he sounded like he was fuming. Gyro put the juice down in front of him gently.

“That sucks, dude," he said.

His softly-spoken words seemed to break some kind of spell: Johnny’s scowl softened and he busied himself with pouring a glass. He looked almost sheepish.

“Sorry for yelling,” he said. “Don’t get to vent about it very often, I guess.”

“I can imagine,” Gyro said. He didn’t blame Johnny for his outburst. Keeping a secret like this, with nobody to talk to about it... it was probably tough. “Are there others like you?”

Johnny’s scowl returned. “Yeah. But we are not friends.”

Gyro’s curiosity was piqued. “Really? How many?”

“I only personally know two,” Johnny said. “They’re brothers— or, something like that. The less we see of them, the better.”

“‘We’?” Gyro repeated. “Wait, do I know them?”

Johnny quickly opened his mouth as if to refute him, then shut it again. He must’ve realized it was too late; Gyro’s curiosity was already piqued. Johnny rubbed his temples with a gusty sigh.

“I already said too much,” he said. “Gyro, lemme make this clear: these are the type of guys that you really do not want to fuck with. They’re literal predators.”

Gyro was busy trying to think of every mutual acquaintance that he and Johnny had, but the list was extremely short. “Well, if you tell me who it is, I can avoid them.”

“Fine. But you have to swear that if you see him again, you’ll drop whatever you’re doing and run in the opposite direction.”

Gyro was a little touched by Johnny’s concern for him. He crossed both index fingers over his heart. “I swear.”

Johnny took a deep breath. “His name’s Diego. Diego Brando. We met him at the bar that one night. You remember?”

“Hold on…” Gyro wracked his brain. Diego, Diego, Diego— then it hit him. “Oh! Shit! HP’s friend, right? The guitarist? Freaky lizard-looking guy?”

Gyro’s memory from that night was still murky, but he remembered that part because it was so weird. Diego had made so many odd innuendos. Gyro thought maybe he was just, like, some kind of pervert. But all his talk about “meals” now made a lot more sense. With a shiver, Gyro realized that those fangs and eyes must not have been makeup after all.

“That’s the one,” Johnny said with a solemn nod. “He and his brother Dio are literally the worst. They feed off living humans. And they’re assholes about it, too.”

Predators. Gyro could see it all too easily. Diego insinuating himself among humans, waiting for the chance to strike… and if he did, he might strike closer to home than Gyro wanted to think.

“Fuck— should we warn HP?” He instinctively started to reach for his phone, but Johnny stopped him with a hand on the table and a sharp glare.

“Absolutely not,” he said. “You’ll just put yourself in harm’s way like that. HP will be fine. Nobody in this city will get hurt by Diego or his brother. Not as long as I’m here.”

He said that with such dark confidence that it made Gyro raise his brows. Was he uncovering some sort of age-old vampire feud?

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“It’s not as heroic as you’re imagining,” Johnny said dryly. “I just mean that the Brandos won’t hunt here because they know I’m already here. This is my territory, so to speak.”

“Well, now you sound like a werewolf,” Gyro observed. "So you have to defend your hunting grounds, then?" 

“I don’t actually give a shit, since I don’t hunt," Johnny said. "But it’s useful that they think that.”

He paused for a moment, then added: “Also, werewolves aren’t real.”

“Bullshit,” Gyro said. “If vampires are real, werewolves are totally real.”

“I’ve never met one.”

“Well, I never met a vampire until you, and you’re real, so let’s not be close-minded, eh?” Gyro tapped his chin, a grin spreading. “Considering that… what else is probably real, then? Unicorns? Bigfoot?”

A smirk made its way onto Johnny’s face despite his best efforts.

“Dunno," he said. "Mermaids, maybe?”

“Zombies?”

“Uh, what’s the name of the, uh— the fucking swimming dino thing— the Loch Ness monster?”

Gyro laughed. “Nyoho! Good one. I’m starting a petition to change its name to ‘the fucking swimming dino thing,’ just FYI.”

Johnny balled up a paper towel and chucked it at him. “Fuck you, dude.” But he smiled as he said it.

They joked around and ate their midnight breakfast until Gyro’s alarm went off, reminding him to get to work. He stood up from the table, gathering up his and Johnny’s plates and utensils.

“I better run,” he said. “You got anything planned?”

“Just my next blood heist."

“That’s all the way next week, though." Gyro cocked his head. "What about tonight?”

“Same thing as every night, probably.”

“Which is…?”

Johnny looked away, that unsatisfied scowl coming back. “Y’know. Wander around. Try to stay out of everyone’s way.”

“…Really?” He bit back a that’s it?

“What else am I supposed to do?” Johnny asked, sounding frustrated. “It’s not like I can hold down a job. That requires ID and shit, and I don’t have a driver’s license. I don’t even have a birth certificate. And even if I did, I was born over a hundred years ago.”

Shit, Gyro hadn’t thought of that. Johnny didn’t have access to, well, anything. Whatever legal identification he’d been given at birth, if any, wouldn’t cut it 150 years later. As this thought snowballed in his mind, Gyro started to fidget.

“Wait, but then how— how do you pay for things?” he asked. He still distinctly remembered their first meeting. Johnny had at least some cash.

“I have a little money saved up,” Johnny said. “Don’t ask how I got it. And for everything else, I have my charisma.”

“Johnny—“ Gyro was positively stricken now— “where the fuck do you live?”

Johnny shrugged. “Wherever I can get someone to let me in.”

Gyro rubbed his temples. Holy shit, his best friend was basically homeless and he had no idea.

“No,” he said. “No, Johnny. That’s unacceptable.”

“Why are you so worked up? It’s fine, I get by,” Johnny said. “I can go to any hotel and check in for the day without paying a dime.”

“It’s not right,” Gyro protested.

“What the hell do you want me to do about it?”

“Stay with me.”

It slipped out before Gyro could stop it. Johnny’s eyes widened. All Gyro could do was smile crookedly and shrug as if to say why not?

“Are you kidding?” Johnny asked.

“No. I’m totally serious. I only have the one bedroom, but… you don’t sleep so it’s not a problem, right?”

“I—“ Johnny looked away. “I don’t need your pity. I’ve been doing fine on my own for over a hundred years—“

“Just because you can survive alone doesn’t mean you should have to,” Gyro stated matter-of-factly. “I’m just offering, okay? It’s up to you.”

Judging from the crease in his brow and the tightness of his jaw, Johnny was deeply conflicted. He wasn’t saying no outright— but he wasn’t saying yes either.

“I can’t pay you,” he said.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t be stupid, Gyro.”

Johnny’s voice was acerbic, but Gyro didn’t flinch.

“I don’t think it’s stupid to help the people you care about,” he said. “If it really bothers you, think of it this way: you being here, in this city, might be the only thing standing between Diego Brando and a bunch of innocent people’s necks. That’s payment enough.”

Gyro wasn’t just doing this because of how he felt about Johnny (although he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t part of it). He was acutely aware that if not for Johnny, Diego could’ve easily taken his ass out that night outside the bar. He could’ve killed anyone. Gyro worked at a hospital, he knew that people in this town had enough to worry about without supernatural serial killers.

Obviously Johnny wasn’t in love with the whole being-a-vampire thing, and with good reason. But in Gyro’s mind, if this curse had to fall to someone in his city… he was glad it fell to someone like Johnny.

Johnny scoffed a little. “What did I tell you? It ain’t heroic on my part.”

“I’m not saying it is,” Gyro said. “You know those scented shits that drive mosquitoes away? You’re like one of those.”

That got a laugh, thankfully, albeit accompanied by an eye-roll. “A citronella candle. You’re comparing me to bug repellent.”

“Better than being the bug.”

Johnny paused for a moment, then tipped his head in agreement. “Better than being the bug.”

---

Johnny didn’t like to owe things. Never had.

Debt enforced certain connections, and he had learned to avoid connection at all costs. It was a necessary evil of his life: the fewer ties he had to people or places, the less likely he was to be exposed for what he was.

So, this new arrangement unsettled him deep down in his bones. He knew that Gyro said not to worry about it, that the books were balanced, the slate clean. But that only made Johnny’s unease worse.

Because it was undeniably a sweet deal. Too good to be true. He could have somewhere reliable to shelter during the day, somewhere to store his food supply, somewhere to call home. And, he reflected with a bitter pit in his stomach, he’d be as close to Gyro as he could reasonably get.

That was to say, too close.

Something was changing in Johnny. It was subtle, like the change in the apartment when Gyro switched out the blinds for proper blackout shades. Perhaps unnoticeable, if you weren’t looking.

But Johnny was looking, and he was looking hard. Trying to stamp those changes out before they became too numerous to ignore.

Remember what you are, he told himself. Remember what you promised.

And yet every time he entered the living room— their living room— he could count on his gaze immediately going to the new shades. He knew that they didn’t look like much, but when they were pulled down, they’d block out all light. Complete darkness.

“Home,” Gyro announced, startling Johnny from his thoughts.

He peered over the back of the couch to watch his new housemate enter. Gyro had changed out of his scrubs, leaving Johnny to wonder if they’d been too soiled to wear back home. He certainly had the sort of look like he’d been up to his elbows in the shit tonight. Johnny watched him steady himself with a hand on the wall as he kicked off his shoes, head bowed.

Johnny paused whatever nonsense was playing on the TV. “Hey. Rough night?”

Gyro chuckled a little, wandering over to the couch. “You could say that. What’re you watching?”

“Uh… not sure.” Johnny let a few seconds play, trying to refresh his memory, but he’d barely been paying attention even before Gyro walked in. “Some kinda period piece.”

“What, feeling homesick for the olden days?” Gyro teased.

He came around and sat down next to where Johnny was curled up. Johnny repositioned to make room for him, painstakingly folding his legs.

“Sometimes I like to see how accurate they are,” he admitted. “It can be pretty funny.”

Other times it just made him sad, giving him a feeling adjacent to homesickness but that didn’t quite fit any word that he knew of. It was like nostalgia, but more forlorn. There wouldn’t be a word for it, naturally, since no human had ever lived long enough to put such a feeling into any language that Johnny knew. But he didn’t tell Gyro about that.

“How’s this one?” Gyro asked. He sunk back against the couch back, head lolling. His exhaustion was palpable.

“Haven’t really been watching,” Johnny muttered. Too busy thinking about you. “Wanna choose something else?”

They did this sometimes when Gyro got home: pick a random show and watch a few episodes until Gyro had to go to sleep and Johnny had to shut the blinds. Johnny didn’t think they’d finished a single season of any of their shows yet.

“Eh.” Gyro waved limply to him. “You go ahead and pick. M’ beat.”

“‘Kay.”

Johnny scrolled for a little through various streaming sites. He usually preferred for Gyro to pick. Entertainment was so easy to come by nowadays that it could be overwhelming. Johnny was an expert at adapting to new conditions, but for some reason they seemed to be changing faster and faster lately.

Gyro didn’t seem very invested in whatever he chose. His eyes were already half closed, and he was struggling to keep his chin from falling on his chest. Johnny leaned over and touched his shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “If you need to sleep, sleep.”

Gyro sighed, letting his eyes slide shut. “Mm… fine.”

But he didn’t get up and stumble to bed like usual. Instead he sort of pitched over, kicking his feet up onto the couch at the same time. His head landed right in Johnny’s lap.

Johnny choked a little. When he told Gyro to go to sleep, this was not what he meant. But Gyro must’ve been too tired to even register it. His eyes were still closed, but he pointed loosely to the TV.

“Go ‘head, play somethin’,” he mumbled. “I don’t mind.”

“O-Okay.” Johnny tried to quell his trembling as he selected the first thing the cursor landed on. He never saw what it was; he was completely focused on not disturbing Gyro. Good thing his legs couldn’t get any more numb.

The show started to play softly in the background and Gyro exhaled. He looked both terribly fatigued and deeply relieved, like he knew that it was over now. All that was left for him to do was rest.

Johnny almost wanted to ask him what had happened at the hospital tonight. Had someone died? Or did they survive after everything? Had Gyro tried to keep them alive with all his might? And did he succeed…?

That had always fascinated him about Gyro. He put himself through hell for the sake of others. Johnny had met plenty of shitty doctors and medical professionals who were just in it for the money or the prestige. Those people didn’t deserve the same title as Gyro, in his opinion.

Johnny was careful not to idolize him, though. If not for his faults, he wouldn’t have been anything close to what he was. Gyro was silly, and boorish, and imperfect… but despite that, or perhaps because of it, he was good.

He was… everything that Johnny wasn’t, really. Gyro was a giver. Johnny was a— a taker. He consumed other people’s lifeblood to stay alive; he consumed Gyro’s resources to stay comfortable. And he wished that he could say that it was all a result of his vampirism, but he’d been around too long to go on lying to himself. He was this way before he ever laid eyes on the Stone Mask.

Yet Gyro seemed to think there was something redeemable about him. It astonished him that even after finding out what Johnny was, Gyro’s behavior towards him had changed very little. How he could stand to have something like Johnny living in his home was a fucking mystery.

There was something redeemable in Johnny, Gyro seemed to believe. Too bad Johnny had no goddamn clue what it was.

Johnny muted the show that he wasn’t watching, much more captivated by the man before him. Gyro had settled with his arms folded over his chest, eyelids twitching slightly but never opening. Johnny could feel the thrum of his life through his clothes and skin, like a beacon of light shooting up through the sky. It called to him in all the worst ways.

Stupid, Johnny thought. Half of him wanted to shake Gyro awake just to scold him. What was he thinking, leaving himself vulnerable like this in the presence of a monster? Sure, they were friends, but Johnny was what he was. Gyro ought to have at least some reservations.

He would have had plenty if he could see how Johnny fixated on him. If he knew that the way he turned his head just so made Johnny swallow feverishly. Didn’t he have any common sense? Didn’t he know better than to tempt fate like this? To tempt Johnny like this?

He trusts me, Johnny realized. He didn’t know what to do with that information, whether it should make him laugh or cry. Either way there was something hysterical about it, something hysterical in him— a folie-à-deux, developing with each slow breath.

Mad. The both of them, they were completely mad.

Johnny gently took a lock of Gyro’s hair between his fingers, letting it slide out and fall back into place. Taken by madness, unthinking of consequences, he tenderly pet Gyro’s head so lightly that he almost couldn’t feel it himself. Gyro just went on living, completely quiet and yet so loud with all that blood rushing through his veins.

Eventually Johnny came back to his senses and stopped himself. He shuddered at his actions, so possessive and yet so detached. As if Gyro would ever be his.

He leaned back, put his hand over his own lethargic heart, and wondered when, if ever, it would settle and become still.

Notes:

C'mon, Johnny, be more optimistic! We're not even halfway through the fic yet!
notes:
>the virus-like nature of vampirism in this AU was inspired by I Am Legend. However, the nature of the condition is not strictly scientific nor strictly supernatural-- that's a cue taken from JoJo itself, which frequently blends real-world concepts with more mystic ones.
>birth certificates weren't issued in the US until 1902. Having been born in 1872, Johnny wouldn't have one even if he wasn't a vampire!
>"folie à deux" is a French phrase meaning "madness shared by two."
Thanks for reading!

Chapter 8: the ghosts of beverly drive

Summary:

In hopes of alleviating Johnny's ennui, Gyro plans a surprise.

Notes:

It's gonna be a long one today, so buckle up! Today's chapter title is from a song by Death Cab for Cutie that just seems to fit Johnny in general!
(mild) content warning: some blood drinking.

Despite all the craziness, Gyro hadn’t forgotten about Tim’s offer to come visit the stables with Johnny. In fact, the more things developed, the more Gyro became convinced of what a good idea it would be.

Johnny was obviously bored, and Gyro understood why. He didn’t sleep, so his life was an unbroken stretch of nights becoming day and days becoming night with little to punctuate it. And since he couldn’t go out in sunlight, his options of activities were extremely limited. Being disabled only narrowed them down even further.

With time, it became clear to Gyro that Johnny wasn’t particularly… attached to the idea of continuing to live. Immortality was not the key to endless possibilities, but rather the guarantee that with enough time, everything would lose its shine. Life itself had seemed to become just another chore to him.

Gyro often thought about what Johnny said: it’s basically like being human, but worse. Those words had installed a sort of ache in him. He had the nagging sense that life shouldn’t be like that. Especially not for Johnny, who seemed to light up the whole room when he smiled. It wasn’t fair that someone who gave Gyro’s life so much more meaning than it used to have should feel so purposeless.

In Johnny’s eyes, living was just a constant reminder of the things he could no longer enjoy. Gyro was determined to change that. And where better to start than with something that he knew Johnny truly loved?

He did what Tim advised and brought it up with Lucy. It was during the informal “lunch” break that had become tradition between him, Lucy, and HP. They were occasionally joined by other hospital regulars like Pocoloco, but this time, it was just the original trio.

“Did I tell you that I ran into Tim at the diner?” Gyro asked, stirring sugar into his third or fourth coffee of the shift. It had been a few weeks since that particular chance meeting, so he couldn’t remember if he’d brought it up or not.

Lucy shook her head. “No, but Tim mentioned it. He said something about you wanting to visit the stables, is that right? You and Johnny?”

Thanks, Tim, Gyro thought. He just hoped he didn’t say anything about Johnny standing him up to Lucy. That, uh, situation had been resolved. Not in the way Gyro expected, but resolved nonetheless.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Gyro said. “What do you say? Would your dad be open to it?”

“Of course!” Lucy exclaimed. “My dad loves having guests. That’s half the reason he even has those horses— he just like to show them to people.”

Imagine having that much money, Gyro thought as an aside. He’d never met Lucy’s father, but from what he heard Mr. Steel was, like, stupid rich. It was a little hard to believe, seeing as Lucy was so down-to-earth.

“That’s great,” Gyro said. “I… have kind of a weird request, though. See, Johnny and I both work the night shift, so… could it be, y’know, kind of late? Like, after dark?”

Over at the coffee machine preparing her black coffee, HP looked over. There was a distinct furrow between her brows. Gyro didn’t see her, however. He was focused on making this work with Lucy.

Lucy thought for a moment. “Why don’t you just come on a weekend when you’re both off work? It wouldn’t be an imposition, really.”

Shit, no. Gyro backpedaled, searching for a valid excuse as to why no time during the day would work. He landed on something— it was weak, but it had to work. He leaned in conspiratorially.

“Well, you see… I don’t like to talk about it since it’s not my information to share, but— Johnny has a medical condition,” he said in a low voice. “He’s allergic to sunlight.”

Note to self, he thought. Tell Johnny he’s allergic to sunlight now. It’d be awkward to have this lie unravel on them.

Lucy blinked rapidly. “Really? That’s a thing?”

Gyro nodded solemnly. “Yeah. That’s why he works nights. ‘Cause if he goes out in direct sun he gets an awful rash. Like a sunburn but much, much worse.”

“How terrible,” Lucy said. “I promise I’ll talk to my dad—“

HP slammed her coffee down on the table, cutting her off. Both Lucy and Gyro stared at her— she wasn’t one to make an entrance like that. Something must've lit a fire in her, judging from the intense stare she gave them.

“The blood theft has stopped,” she said.

Under the table, Gyro dug his fingers into his thigh. He kept stirring his coffee and waited for Lucy to say something first. She didn’t let him down.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, scratching her chin. “It’s been a few weeks since we got an email about it. Did they catch the person who was doing it?”

“I don’t know,” HP said. “Did they, Gyro?”

She’s only asking because I’m the only doctor here, Gyro told himself in order to stay calm. I’m the only one who would have any substantial information on the subject. There’s no suspicion.

There was no reason for suspicion, either. There was no way of tracing any of this back to him, or Johnny for that matter. Gyro had made sure of that.

“Not sure,” he said coolly. “I get the same emails as you two.”

“But it’s more relevant to you,” HP said. “Seeing as you use that blood. To save lives.”

Gyro decided to do what he did best: tackle the problem head on. He looked HP right in the eyes.

“What, do you think I stole it or something?” he asked.

To her credit, HP held his gaze for a strong couple of seconds. She slowly lifted her coffee to her mouth to take a sip. When she lowered it again, she also lowered her eyes.

“That’s obviously ridiculous,” she said.

“Obviously.” Gyro sat back in his chair.

Lucy giggled a little. "Can you imagine? Gyro’s huge, he’d never get away with it.” Then, throwing him an apologetic glance: “No offense.”

“None taken,” Gyro said.

Their conversation quickly turned to other subjects, but Gyro kept his eye on HP. It wasn’t completely unthinkable that she could have seen him doing something to help Johnny. But even if she had, she certainly had no proof. Judging by the way that she let the topic drop so fast, she knew it too.

He would just have to be a little more discrete in the upcoming weeks. Maybe skip a week or two— Johnny had enough of a supply to fall back on, if the number of bags in his fridge at home were anything to go by. Above all, he’d have to stay vigilant.

---

A few text message conversations with Tim and one call with an enthusiastic Mr. Steel later, Gyro had pulled it off. Everything was in place— except Johnny.

Gyro wanted to surprise him. He wasn’t sure why. There wasn’t any special occasion, especially not any anniversary like Tim had initially suggested. And it wasn’t a date, that was for sure. He told himself that he just didn’t want Johnny to psych himself out about it. Gyro was convinced that it’d be best to just go and do it. Now he just had to convince Johnny.

The week before, they were sitting together on the couch like they always did in the “evenings” (which was to say, the mornings after Gyro got off work). Gyro didn’t want to go to bed until he got this all straightened out, though. He wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise.

“Let’s go do something this weekend,” he suggested.

Johnny paused the show that Gyro was barely watching, raising his brows. “Let’s?”

“Yeah, you and me,” Gyro said.

Johnny looked at him for a moment, then exhaled and turned his attention back to the TV.

“Did you forget why we got those blackout blinds, Gyro?” he asked with a tired voice. “I can’t just ‘go out and do something.’”

“At night you can,” Gyro said. “We’ll go on Saturday night. Find something fun. There’s bound to be something, right?”

“Like… another concert, or...?” Johnny asked warily.

“Who knows,” Gyro said. He gave Johnny a sly grin. “That’ll be part of the adventure, nyohoho.”

“Well, if we don’t find anything, don’t blame me,” Johnny said, pressing the play button.

That was the closest Gyro was going to get to a yes. While Johnny was looking at the TV screen, Gyro surreptitiously texted Tim to confirm for Saturday.

It couldn’t come soon enough. The rest of the week Gyro was in a good, if not somewhat antsy mood. He took on his assignments at the hospital with finesse, earning him a rare commendation from Wekapipo. Gyro almost felt like he couldn’t take credit. It was Johnny who made him feel this way.

In other words, he had it pretty bad. It was getting hard to keep it to himself. For one, he wanted to tell someone about how genius he was. And for another, some people could just see it on his face.

Lucy Steel was one of those people. One shift, when it was just the two of them in the break room loitering by the espresso machine, she nudged him mischievously.

“Are you gonna ask Johnny out officially this weekend?” she asked.

Gyro nearly choked on his coffee. “W-What makes you think that?”

“Gyro, I’ve never seen you this excited about anything.” She gave him a gentle smile. “It’s nice. It seems like he really makes you happy, you know? So why not give it a shot?”

Gyro let his shoulders relax, setting the coffee down. Yeah, why not, Gyro? Well, it was complicated. Even excluding the whole vampirism thing, it was complicated.

“I don’t actually know if he’s into men,” he admitted.

“What? He totally is,” Lucy said. “He said so, at Blackmore’s. He seemed pretty open about it.”

“Wait, seriously?” Gyro leaned in, unable to hide his excitement. “What did he say, exactly?”

Lucy tapped her chin as she recalled. “He said something like, it was weird how he’d never heard of Blackmore’s even though it was ‘his kind of place.’ I asked him what he meant by that and he laughed and said he… I think he said he swung both ways?”

Gyro exhaled in relief. So Johnny was into men. Oh, God, that was so good to hear. Gyro had pined after enough straight men in his life. For a while there after finding out about the whole “born before 1900” thing he’d gotten a little worried.

“That’s good to hear, but I’m still not entirely sure it’s the best thing to do,” Gyro said. “I mean, we’re kind of, um, living together.”

Lucy’s brows shot up. “You’re not dating but you’re living together?”

“He’s… kinda fallen on hard times, so I offered to keep him off the street,” Gyro said. “It’s not weird, we’re just roommates.”

Lucy giggled a little. “‘Oh my god, they were roommates.’” Then, her serious face returned. “But really, Gyro— in that case, you have to tell him. You can’t just live with him and be in love with him and have him not even know it!”

Gyro stirred his coffee with a pout. “It’s not love.”

“It’s not fair to either of you,” Lucy went on, folding her arms. “In addition to it being torture for you... Just imagine you’re Johnny. You’d want to know if your roommate was in-- er, had feelings for you, wouldn't you?" 

Gyro groaned. He could see her logic all too well and it was making his life difficult. How did someone as young and frankly as sheltered as Lucy have such well-developed social acumen?

“I swear to God I’m not trying to take advantage of him,” he said. “It’s not like I’m gonna kick him out if he doesn’t reciprocate.”

“I don’t think you have bad intentions, Gyro,” Lucy said. “In fact, I know you don’t. I just think it’d be better to come clean, you know?”

“I hate that you’re right,” Gyro grumbled.

“So you’re gonna tell him?”

It’d be the right thing to do. But where was Johnny to go, if he didn’t want to stay with Gyro anymore? Back to hiding wherever he could during the day? That was no good. If Gyro was going to do this, he’d have to do it very, very carefully.

“I... need to think about it,” he said. “But yeah. I will.”

Lucy smiled at him. “I wish you the best of luck.”

“Thanks,” Gyro said.

More and more he was feeling like he was gonna need it.

---

Gyro had work on Friday night, which meant he slept through the morning and most of the afternoon on Saturday. His exhaustion couldn’t beat out his excitement, however, and he hopped out of bed earlier than normal. Peeking out the window, he saw it was finally dark outside again and smiled.

What a strange feeling, he thought. He used to wake up at night before work and feel depressed that there was no sun outside his window to greet him at the start of his day. Now seeing that the sun was safely tucked under the horizon gave him a sense of happiness and relief. For the next twelve or so hours, it couldn’t hurt Johnny.

Speaking of Johnny, Gyro quickly got dressed and went out into the living room. He didn’t see Johnny, so he went into the kitchen. The fridge door was open, concealing all but Johnny’s wheels.

“Hey,” Gyro said. “What’s up?”

He heard a choke, then shuffling before the door quickly closed. Johnny straightened up, trying to look at casual as possible. But there was a stray speck of blood on his chin that betrayed him: he’d been feeding.

“Hey,” Johnny said. “Nothing.”

Gyro raised his brows at the obvious lie. He went over to his espresso machine to start making a cup.

“You know, you don’t have to hide from me,” he said. “I know you drink blood. It’s fine. I’m over it.”

“Dunno why you’re bringing it up,” Johnny muttered. Still clinging to the lie, apparently.

Gyro turned to Johnny and pointed to his own chin. “Maybe ‘cause you got a little somethin’ right here.”

Johnny’s eyes widened and he quickly wiped the blood from his face. He scowled, mostly at himself.

"Damnit," he muttered. “I don’t wanna gross you out."

“I’m a doctor. Blood doesn’t gross me out anymore.”

“It grosses me out,” Johnny said. “I don’t want you watchin’ me do it.”

“Doesn’t it taste good to you?” Gyro inquired.

Johnny hesitated for a moment, and Gyro almost thought he wasn’t going to answer. But he did.

“Bagged blood ain’t the worst kind," he said. 

“What’s the ‘worst’ kind?”

“Animal blood,” Johnny said. “It tastes like crap, and you gotta drink more of it to feel full. Donated human blood is fine— middle of the road.”

“…and what’s the best kind?” Gyro ventured to ask.

“How’d I know you were gonna ask that?” Johnny wrinkled his nose. “I’m sure you could guess.”

“Straight from the source?”

“Straight from the source,” Johnny said with a nod. “It almost doesn’t compare. A cup of fresh blood is worth, like, ten bags of the old stuff. But even then, it ain’t worth the trouble. I’d rather drink donated shit.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Gyro said. He turned back to his coffee as the machine finished brewing. “I’ve never see you eat before, though. Is this your usual time?”

“No, it’s just that…” Johnny fidgeted in his chair. “I, uh, do this sometimes before I go out to do something. Because it… it makes my legs stronger.”

Oh. Gyro tried to tamp down his surprise and curiosity, instead focusing on adding sugar to his espresso.

“Interesting,” he said mildly.

“I don’t do it a lot,” Johnny quickly followed up. “The only other time recently was the concert."

Gyro turned to lean against the counter, sipping at his piping hot coffee. “You don’t have to defend yourself.”

Johnny opened his mouth, then shut it again. His face returned to a scowl. That was pretty much its resting expression.

“You’re awful casual about all my shit,” he said. “Feel like most people woulda run for the hills by now.”

“Well, I’m no coward,” Gyro said.

“Reckon it’s more a matter of common sense than bravery,” Johnny said dryly.

Gyro winced. “Ouch.”

“…Didn’t mean it as an insult,” Johnny said, averting his eyes. “I appreciate it.”

That soothed Gyro a bit. What he was doing was objectively foolish: inviting a potentially-dangerous stranger into his home, one who acknowledged his own predatory nature. Johnny was a creature designed to hunt humans, and here Gyro was letting him couch-surf. But when Johnny expressed his gratitude, it felt like there was no better choice.

Gyro blew softly on his coffee to cool it, thinking: I wonder if he’ll still be appreciative after tonight. After Gyro came clean about how he felt… would Johnny still feel anything like thankful towards him? Would he feel anything at all?

It’ll work out, he told himself— although he couldn’t say exactly how.

---

Around eleven-thirty, the two of them went down to Gyro’s car. Johnny switched to his crutches, but at Gyro’s insistence put his chair in the trunk just in case. He didn’t know how long they’d be at the stables and Johnny might get tired by the end of it.

“I swear you’re like my mom sometimes,” Johnny muttered, climbing into the passenger seat.

Gyro slid into the driver’s seat just across from him. “I’d take that as a compliment, but I don’t know your mom.”

Johnny looked out the window. “Probably better that way.”

Gyro started the car and pulled out of the parking lot.

“Your parents,” he said. “They… they’re not around anymore, I presume.”

“...Yeah,” Johnny said. “Like I said, It’s for the best. We didn’t get along very well.”

“Ah.” Gyro’s fingers tightened on the wheel. “Because of… what happened to you?”

He didn’t specify what exactly had happened, but Johnny knew.

“No,” he said quietly. “I left home right after I turned. They never found out, as far as I know.”

Gyro swallowed. Okay, time to pivot.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said. “Have you been in this city long?”

Johnny seemed grateful for the topic switch. He rested his elbow on the door handle, then put his chin on his palm in a thoughtful pose.

“Not really, relatively speaking,” he said. “Two, almost three years. I move around. Been to every major American city, I reckon.”

“Really? Which one was your favorite?”

“Can’t say I ever thought about it.” Johnny pursed his lips. “San Diego, maybe. But I haven’t been back in a while.”

“I always wanted to travel the States,” Gyro said. “Like, do a road trip. But without doing a whole bunch of planning or any boring shit like that. More like— drop everything, jump in the car and just drive.”

He leaned back in his seat like some kind of race car driver, waggling his eyebrows at Johnny. Johnny snorted and shook his head.

“Yeah, you’re a cowboy all right,” he said. “Where would you go?”

“Everywhere,” Gyro said. “I wanna see everything— Monument Valley in Arizona, the Rocky Mountains in Colorado, the Mississippi River in… well, Mississippi, I guess.”

“First two are good, but don’t get your hopes up about the Mississippi,” Johnny said. “It’s just a big river. And you can see it in more than one state.”

“Whew, dodged a bullet there,” Gyro said, pretending to wipe his brow. “Can’t believe I almost wasted my time on my nonexistent road trip. Thanks, Johnny.”

“Hey, I been there, so I’d know.”

“To the Mississippi?”

“And Monument Valley, and the Rocky Mountains. I know what I’m talking about.”

Gyro was impressed. “You went to all those places?”

“What else do you do when you’ve got as much free time as me?”

“Point taken,” Gyro said. “You don’t settle anywhere for long, then.”

“Nope,” Johnny said. “Gotta keep moving. Otherwise people get suspicious, y’know?”

“How long do you usually stay for?”

Johnny shrugged. “No more than five years, maybe.”

“Huh.”

The thought made Gyro a little sad. Johnny really didn’t have a place to call home, then. Gyro might’ve been kicking around in America nowadays, but Naples would always be somewhere for him to return to, like a migratory bird coming back time and time again to the same perch.

For another thing: if Johnny only spent five years in each city, and he’d already been here for almost three… did that mean that Gyro only had two and a half more years with him? He had to stay for at least four to finish his residency. If Johnny left town, would Gyro ever be able to find him again?

“It’s not bad, actually,” Johnny said, as if he could sense Gyro’s thoughts. “I like it, most of the time. It keeps life at least mildly interesting.”

But it sounds so lonely, Gyro wanted to say. He refrained.

“Can’t say I’m not a little jealous,” he said. “I can’t just take off with my job. Not like I want to.”

"You've already traveled plenty, though— I mean, you came all the way from Italy.”

“That’s true.”

“You ever gonna go back?”

Gyro sighed, then nodded. “Yeah, eventually. Naples is like a magnet to me.”

“…You don’t sound thrilled about it,” Johnny observed.

Gyro had to laugh at how easily he read him. “It’s complicated. My old man wants me to take over his hospital when he bites it. But that would just be like… I don’t know. The easy way.”

From the day Gyro was born, his path had been set out for him: study medicine, become a surgeon, take over running his father’s hospital, eventually have a son of his own and repeat. It was the same path that his father himself had taken before him, and his father’s father before that.

For a long time, Gyro had followed that path faithfully. At his father’s direction, he sacrificed a lot for more time to perfect his craft: sleep, hobbies, friendships… But the older he got, the more he realized that what he’d already given up was not going to be enough. Eventually, he would be asked to sacrifice something that he couldn’t live without: his emotions.

“Nothin’ wrong with taking the easy way,” Johnny said.

“But I don’t know if that way’s gonna take me where I want to go,” Gyro said. “I’m a big believer in detours.”

That was why he came to America, anyway. He knew that his destiny lay in medicine. He just wanted to have a say in how he got there.

As his eyes scanned the road, he spotted a side road just ahead. His gaze flicked to his phone GPS, tucked down by his thigh where Johnny couldn’t see. It told him that that wasn’t the “right” way to go, but it was another way that would get them there all the same. He lifted his head and grinned.

“Speaking of which,” he said, and flicked on the turn signal.

Johnny frowned as he realized what Gyro was planning. “D’you know where you’re going?”

“Nope,” Gyro said. “But it’s a detour.”

Johnny held on tight to the car door as Gyro whipped onto the side street. He had to admit that he drove like a madman at times, but he was usually alone on the street at night anyway.

Meeting Johnny had been the greatest detour that Gyro had taken so far. It was something that he hadn’t been expecting in the slightest, but… Johnny reminded him of what he liked about medicine: helping people. Without even knowing it, Johnny had put him back on the right path— not the path that his father dictated, but the path that was for him and him alone.

They started cruising through a more woodsy area. Gyro reached up and opened the moon roof so that Johnny could look up at the treetops and the stars if he wanted. He cracked the window just enough to get a gust of fresh night air on his face, then closed it again.

“There’s something freeing about not knowing where the fuck you’re going,” he said. “Just me, Ballbreaker, and the wide open road.”

“Ballbreaker?” Johnny repeated.

Gyro patted the console lovingly. “That’s my car’s name.”

Johnny laughed incredulously. “I knew you liked AC/DC, but ain’t that a bit much?”

Gyro flashed his grills at Johnny. “Nyohoho, have you ever known me to shy away from being too much?”

Johnny smiled. “Right, I take it back. It’s perfect for you.”

The road wound back and forth in graceful S-curves, creating a peaceful, almost hypnotic rhythm to the driving. Gyro usually would’ve turned on the radio, but there was something about the atmosphere in the car that he didn’t want to disturb.

For the first time that he’d seen, Johnny was relaxed, sitting back with a little smile on his face. His eyes darted side to side as he watched the world pass by outside his window. Gyro had to constantly remind himself to keep his own eyes on the road.

They passed by a sign that designated a local nature preserve. Gyro wasn’t familiar, but Johnny sat up at the sight of it. He even smiled a bit.

“Hey, I know where we are,” he said. “That’s the preserve.”

“You been there?”

“Yeah, plenty of times,” Johnny said. “I’ve gone there when I couldn’t find anywhere else to stay. It’s pretty quiet and there are some out-of-the-way caves that stay shaded all day, so it’s perfect to hunker down for a few days.”

He said it perfectly casually, even with some excitement, but the sad truth of his words was not lost on Gyro. He looked at Johnny with furrowed brows.

“You’ve spent the day there?” he asked.

“Sure thing,” Johnny said. “We should go, one of these nights. I can show you all my old haunts.”

He turned and saw the look on Gyro’s face. Gyro couldn’t see himself, but he imagined his expression must’ve been pretty horrified, because Johnny’s smile dropped. It was replaced by the dreaded scowl. He sunk back into his seat and folded his arms.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said.

Gyro tried to force his face back into something appropriately neutral. “I just hope that you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I wouldn’t be telling you about it if it was some ultra-traumatic shit, Gyro,” Johnny said. “It’s fine. It’s just life.”

“I know. I just wish it didn’t have to be that way.”

Gyro sighed and turned his GPS back on. They’d better get back on track if they wanted to make it to Steel’s place by midnight. Johnny had folded his arms, closing himself off again, his smile well and truly disappeared.

In an effort to make peace, Gyro turned his car’s sound system on. He switched his phone from the GPS to a music streaming app and handed it to Johnny.

“Here,” he said. “Play something.”

Johnny looked at the phone, then to Gyro. “I don’t know what you like.”

“Look through my playlists, then,” Gyro said. “I’m sure there’ll be something we can agree on.”

Johnny took his phone and scrolled momentarily. Then Gyro saw him tap something, selecting a song to play. The speakers started to sing out a percussion heavy track that Gyro recognized almost instantly. It was from his Classic Rock playlist.

“You like Fleetwood Mac?” he asked over the sound of Lindsey Buckingham’s low, almost menacing vocals.

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “I remember when Rumours came out. First ten out of ten album in my book.”

“Took you all the way up until the seventies to like an album enough to give it ten out of ten?” Gyro asked with a laugh.

“What can I say? I’m picky,” Johnny said. “Hold on, here comes the best part.”

He closed his eyes as the drums picked up, waiting for the start of the chorus. Gyro grinned at his expression of anticipation. He knew all the words, too. So he jumped in just as it started.

“Don’t say that you love me,” Gyro chanted along with the singers, almost drowning out the song.

Johnny’s eyes shot open. For a moment he looked pissed at Gyro for interrupting his favorite part. But upon seeing Gyro’s goofy smile and the way he waggles his brows in encouragement, he chimed in.

“Just tell me that you want me,” he sang-spoke, in a pretty good approximation of the raspy tone.

The two of them bobbed their heads together along to the firm beat. Gyro drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Johnny was looking at him like are you thinking what I’m thinking? And Gyro nodded, just in time for the next part.

“Tusk!” they shouted in unison.

Johnny started laughing after that, which made Gyro laugh too. They struggled to keep singing along between peals of laughter. Johnny even did his best impression of the “real savage-like” part, which had Gyro laugh-crying. He didn’t know that kind of voice could come out of Johnny’s mouth.

After that Johnny played a few more Fleetwood Mac songs, then a few AC/DC tracks to placate Gyro, including his car’s namesake. They sang along to every one; Johnny, like Gyro, knew all the words.

Gyro was actually a little disappointed when they approached their destination, as that meant the end of their singalong. But he filed this away in his mind as another fun thing he could do with Johnny in the future. Just drive around, singing along to the classics… maybe he’d even convince Johnny to do a road trip with him.

Wouldn’t Dad just love that? he thought wryly. If I called to tell him I’m taking time off to drive across the country? Usually the thought of doing something his father would disapprove of made Gyro faintly sick, but this time childlike giddiness bubbled up inside him. It was a good feeling.

The Steel estate was at the end of a long driveway. Johnny looked uncertain as they turned down it, peering out the window.

“This looks like private property, Gyro,” he said.

“Nonsense,” Gyro said. “It’s fine.”

Johnny shifted nervously. “You know I, like, can not get busted by the cops, right?”

“I said it’s fine, Johnny.”

They rolled along past a large fenced-in pasture before approaching a fork in the road. Tim had told Gyro about this; the left road lead to the stables while the right went up to the house. He dutifully directed them down the left path.

Johnny sat up straighter as they approached a traditionally-styled barn with large sliding doors and everything. His mouth was slightly open in utter disbelief.

“Gyro, where are we?” he asked.

Gyro smiled and put the car into park. “Surprise.”

Johnny still looked agitated. “I don’t understand.”

“You remember the cowboy-looking guy we met at Blackmore’s? Tim?” Gyro asked. “Turns out he’s an actual cowboy. Sort of. Anyway, he works here. He told me we were welcome to the barn to see the horses.”

Johnny stared at Gyro. Gyro couldn’t tell if he was stunned or still uncomprehending. He cleared his throat nervously.

“I, uh, thought you might like the chance to… ride again, or something along those lines— I know it’s hard because of the sunlight thing,” he said. “Oh! That reminds me. You kinda have to pretend that you have a sunlight allergy. That’s how I explained why we needed to come at night. Hope you don’t mind.”

Johnny slowly turned to look at the barn again, then back to Gyro.

“You did all that for me?” he asked. 

Gyro laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, sure.”

“Gyro, I…” Johnny blinked several times rapidly, then took a deep breath and grabbed the door handle. “Let’s go, then.”

Although the exchange was brief, Johnny sounded determined— determined and happy, Gyro hoped. At times it was hard to tell with him. But as Gyro hopped out of the car, he sneaked a glance over at Johnny… only to see the smallest, yet brightest of smiles on his face.

Gyro’s heart leapt. This was a good idea after all. Anything that made Johnny happy had to be good.

Notes:

Oh, Gyro... you're doing the most, honey.
notesssss
> sun allergy is actually a real thing, if you can believe it! There are some genetic conditions that cause people to develop hives, rashes, and general pain when exposed to sunlight. Some academics have even suggested that one of these conditions, porphyria, could be linked to the original vampire myths (although this is disputed).
> Johnny's travels are, of course, a reference to the race route in SBR.
Thanks for reading!!

Chapter 9: the kids aren't alright

Summary:

Gyro tries to give back to Johnny. Johnny's not sure if he can take it.

Notes:

Not much to say about this one... Chapter title is from a Fall Out Boy song. Enjoy!

Gyro knocked on the barn door. A few moments later, it slid open sideways to reveal a smiling Tim. Finally he was dressed appropriately for the setting in dirty jeans and that damn hat.

“Howdy,” he said. “Glad you could make it. Welcome to Steel’s place.”

“Thanks for having us, Tim,” Gyro said. “You remember Johnny?”

“‘Course,” Tim said, tipping his hat to Johnny. "Come on in, you two. I’ll introduce you to the herd.”

He turned and went inside. Johnny followed immediately, pushing past Gyro. Gyro smiled after him, happy to follow. 

The barn was basically a long, wide hallway, illuminated by a row of bare bulbs. It was exactly as rustic as Gyro imagined it would be, with old wooden beams overhead and a straw-covered floor. It had a distinct “animal” smell, and the eaves were filled with the sound of horses breathing and shifting in their stalls.

“Mr. Steel is Lucy’s father,” Tim explained. “You wouldn’t know it from lookin’ at him, but he’s a total horse nut. Loves everything about ‘em. Racing, showing, trail-riding— you name it, Steel’s into it. A coupla years ago, he caught wind of an old racehorse in need of a home, and he built this place.”

“All for one horse?” Gyro asked. 

Tim chuckled. “That’s how it started, anyhow. Turns out lots of horses need rescuin’ ‘round here. Steel hasn’t turned one down yet.”

“Must be loaded,” Johnny muttered.

Gyro’s first instinct was to tell him to tone it down with the snappy observations for fear of offending their host, but thankfully Tim laughed at his comment.

“Lucky for me,” he said. “I’d be out of a job otherwise.”

They approached the first stall, in which there was a piebald horse whose name tag read Ghost Rider in the Sky. The horse bowed its head when Tim approached, as if in respect.

“This here’s my fella, Ghost,” Tim said, patting the horse’s forehead. “Great cornering on him— he was born to round up cattle.”

“A mustang,” Johnny said. He narrowed his eyes at Ghost, examining him. “Got ‘im from the bureau?”

“Yessir, and trained him up myself,” Tim said. “You know your stuff, don’t you?”

Johnny shrugged. "I know a thing or two.”

“I’ve been told you were a jockey.”

Johnny stiffened for a moment, then made a visible effort to relax. Gyro tensed up with him. He really wanted this to go well, so he was hyper-aware of Johnny’s every reaction.

“That’s true,” Johnny said, somewhat warily. He was afraid that Tim might ask more, Gyro guessed.

But Tim did no such thing, to Gyro's immense relief. “We’ve got lots of former racehorses. You wanna meet ‘em?”

An eager glint surfaced in Johnny’s eyes. “Hell yeah.”

Tim took them further down the row, past a few stalls with a variety of different horses. He rattled off their names, but Gyro surely couldn’t remember them all: Silver Bullet, Gets Up, S.S. Brown, Catch A Wave… some of the names were really bizarre. He supposed racehorses always had weird names. Johnny followed up each one with rapid-fire questions, which Tim happily answered.

Gyro lagged a little bit behind, wanting to let them have their horse talk or whatever. He hadn’t ridden since he was a kid, so he was a little rusty on his equine knowledge. He definitely couldn’t keep up with two fanatics of the likes of Tim and Johnny.

As he wandered by a stall, he heard a snort and felt a bit of hot breath on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw a horse stick its head out of the stall after him. It was a chocolate-colored horse with a silvery mane. When Gyro turned to it, it lifted its head insistently like it was trying to get his attention.

“Uh… hello,” Gyro said, a bit uncertainly.

He sidled over to the horse, examining its nameplate. Valkyrie. Seemed it was a mare.

“Cool name,” Gyro said. “You ride like the wind or something?”

He offered his hand for the horse to sniff. She snuffled briefly at Gyro’s palm, then pulled back her lips to show her blunt teeth. Gyro quickly retracted his hand before he could get a snap.

“Feisty,” he said. “I like that in a woman.”

Valkyrie lowered her head, as if in apology for her behavior. Gyro gingerly stroked her forehead a few times, listening to her gusty breaths.

“Good horsie,” he murmured. “Nice horsie. No bitey.”

“I see you’ve met Valkyrie,” Tim said from behind him.

Gyro jumped a little, which made Valkyrie retreat into her stall with an unhappy snort.

“Damn, you scared me,” Gyro said. “How’s Johnny?”

He looked down the hall to try and get a glimpse of him, but caught no sight of the slight American. “Where’s Johnny, for that matter?”

“He’s meeting one of our other ladies,” Tim said. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t get lost. Or bit, for that matter.”

Gyro brushed his hands off on his pants. “Ahem. All good.”

Tim led Gyro to where Johnny was: the very end of the hall, where the yellowed light almost didn’t reach. He was leaning on a stall door, quietly conversing with another mare. He was actually talking to her, too, not just fucking around like Gyro had been. He even paused between sentences as if to let her answer.

As Gyro and Tim approached, Johnny stopped talking and turned to them with a serene look on his face. The mare’s name was Slow Dancer, according to her name tag, and she was standing near the back of the stall. Gyro interpreted her body language as standoffish, but Johnny didn’t look worried in the slightest.

“You’re right about this one, Tim,” Johnny said. “Nervous, but definitely workable.”

“I was telling Johnny that Slow Dancer is a new arrival,” Tim said to loop Gyro in. “She’s been adopted and sent back multiple times already because of her temperament. Steel was told that she had a ‘twisted personality,’ but he took her in anyway.”

Gyro peered at the horse, trying to discern whether it was true what was said about her. The horse gave off no outer signs of animosity— she was just standing there, eating hay. Doing normal horse stuff, basically. But then again, he wasn’t an expert.

“Doesn’t look ‘twisted’ to me,” he said.

“People say that kind of shit when their pride’s hurt,” Johnny interjected. “She’s thrown off more than a few upstarts in her day, I bet. It’s easy to talk big when you’re up in the saddle. Only makes it hurt worse when you get bucked.”

Gyro stared at Johnny. He’d never heard him speak so confidently before. He really was in his element, wasn’t he?

“I won’t lie, she’s been a challenge,” Tim said. “There’s nothing she hates more than being mounted. ‘Specially by men.”

“She’s been abused, hasn’t she?” Johnny asked.

“We don’t know all the details of her past since she’s bounced around from rescue to rescue quite a bit,” Tim said. “But that’s a fair guess.”

Johnny gave Gyro a knowing look. “That’s where it all lies. Some people think horses are big, stupid animals, but they’re not. Not where it counts. If they’ve been hurt by a human, you can bet they’ll remember it as long as they live.”

…Are we still talking about horses? Gyro wondered.

“So... can she be rehabilitated?” he asked.

“No telling yet,” Tim said, while Johnny simultaneously said "Yes." 

Both Gyro and Tim looked at Johnny. He held his chin up.

“She can,” he reiterated. “Just look at her. She’s perfectly calm right now.”

Gyro wasn’t sure if he could tell, but he looked anyway. Slow Dancer’s tail slowly swished, her ears twitching intermittently.

“She needs to be treated gently but firmly,” Johnny went on. “Ya gotta build trust with her, forge that bond. Then she’d do anything for you, I bet.”

He glanced over his shoulder at the horse. “Maybe even race.”

Tim folded his arms with an impressed nod at Johnny’s assessment. “That’s what I was thinking, too. But that said, she’ll probably spend the rest of her life here. Not that that’s a bad thing— she won’t want for nothin’.”

“That’s good,” Gyro said. He nudged Johnny. “You could come check in on her progress, eh?”

Johnny suddenly looked uncertain again, shifting his weight between his braces, but Tim shrugged.

“Why not?” he asked. “You seem like you got horse sense— no pun intended. I wouldn’t mind havin’ someone else like that around.”

“But I can’t,” Johnny blurted out.

He looked to Gyro desperately. Gyro stepped in to help.

“That’s really generous, Tim,” he said. “But Johnny’s got a really bad allergy. He can’t go out in the sun.”

“Allergic to sun?” Tim whistled sympathetically. “Must be tough.”

“You have no idea,” Johnny muttered.

Put out, he went back down the row of stalls. He still looked in at all the horses, but his demeanor was definitely damper than before. Gyro sighed quietly to himself as he watched him go. Tim looked between the two of them with concern.

“Moody little guy, ain’t he?” he said.

Gyro flattened his lips. Anyone would be moody in Johnny’s situation. “He’s had it rough.”

Tim clicked his tongue. “Say, Gyro, you’re a doctor. You think he can ride? With his legs like that?”

“I’m not his doctor,” Gyro said. With that said, he happened to know that Johnny had better strength and mobility right now than usual. Gyro could tell just from watching him move around. That blood he’d drank before leaving really did give him a boost. “But knowing him... he’d make it work.”

Tim nodded resolutely. “I think I know how to lift his spirits. C’mon.”

He started off purposefully down the hall. Gyro followed him. Johnny didn’t seem to notice either of them as they passed by. Tim stopped in front of a door and turned to Gyro.

“Open up the other barn door there,” he said, pointing. “Get Johnny out there for me. I’ll be right behind you.”

Gyro nodded. He could do that. With that, Tim opened the door and went inside. There was a little sign hanging on the knob that said TACK ROOM.

Gyro went to the barn doors that Tim indicated and opened them. They led outside to a fenced-in area with soft, sandy ground. With that done, he went back to get Johnny. He was still engrossed in his examination of each and every horse.

“Hey,” Gyro said as he approached him. “You wanna check out the pasture or whatever? Seems pretty big.”

“I’d rather stay with the animals,” Johnny said flatly, staring into the stall at a pinto. “Nothin’ for me out there.”

“There’s fresh air,” Gyro said. “Come on, you know you could use a little bit of that.”

Johnny sighed, then dipped his head. “Right. Lead the way, I guess.”

Gyro did so, drawing Johnny out into the night. It was a little cold, with a slight wetness to the air. Gyro put his hands on his hips and tilted his head back. The night sky was beautiful. A little further out into the country and the city lights didn’t obscure the stars so much.

“Check it out,” Gyro said, pointing up. “Not a cloud in the sky. You can see so many stars.”

Johnny looked up. “Yeah. S’ nice.”

“Probably nothing compared to Monument Valley, though.”

“Hard to compete with that.” Johnny let out a long, slow breath, like he was releasing the air in his lungs back into the sky. “My favorite sky is in Kentucky, though.”

“Kentucky…?”

“That’s where I’m from.”

“Makes sense,” Gyro mused. “Big horse racing country down there, right? With the Kentucky Derby and all that?”

“Yep,” Johnny said.

He blinked several times rapidly, eyes still fixed on the stars. Despite the beauty of the night sky, however, Gyro couldn’t tear his gaze away from Johnny.

He was just so damn beautiful, that was all. Gyro could’ve swore that he discovered something new and wonderful about Johnny every time that he looked at him. Like right now— the way that the scattered pinpricks of light in the sky reflected in his gaze made him look literally starry-eyed. Gyro had never noticed something so small like that about someone before.

“I won that, you know,” Johnny said suddenly.

Gyro didn’t understand him at first, caught up in the moment as he was. “Wait, what?”

“The Derby,” Johnny said softly. “I won it. When I was sixteen. Before all this.”

Gyro’s brows shot up. For as little as he knew about the world of horse-racing, even he knew that was a serious accomplishment. Especially for a sixteen-year-old. He knew Johnny had been a good rider, but he didn’t know just how good he was.

“Wow,” he said, his voice equally quiet.

“Yeah.” Johnny looked down, shifting his gaze from the stars to the dirt. “Was the best day of my life.”

Although Johnny didn’t say as much, Gyro knew what that meant: being that good only made it hurt all the more when it all got taken away. He was struck by the sudden, near-irresistible urge to give Johnny a big hug.

“Hey, Johnny!”

That was Tim, coming out of the barn. He led Ghost behind him, all saddled up and ready to ride. Gyro watched Johnny’s face carefully, hoping to see the realization dawn on him. But Johnny’s face was steady in its neutrality as he watched Tim and Ghost.

“What, is he gonna give us a demonstration?” he asked.

Gyro smiled a little. “I don’t think he’s gonna be the one riding.”

Johnny turned to him, brows furrowed. “You ride?”

“Not me, either.”

Johnny’s eyes widened. He looked over to the horse, then back to Gyro. His expression was a mix of fear and barely-tamped-down hope.

“Gyro, I… I can’t,” he said.

“Have you tried?”

“You don’t get it,” Johnny said, exasperation bleeding into his voice. “So much of riding is balance and controlling the horse with your legs.”

Gyro put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “You’re strong enough. If you can walk, you can do this.”

“I can’t even get up.”

“I’ll help you— I mean, we’ll help you.” Realizing how dangerously close he was to going too far, Gyro retracted his hand. “But only if you want to.”

Johnny was quiet for a moment. He watched Tim and Ghost with a sort of hunger that spoke volumes before he ever did.

“I want to,” he said. “Of course I want to.”

“Then do it,” Gyro said firmly. “If you have the will to get on the horse, why don’t you?”

Johnny exhaled strongly. He started to make his way over to Ghost. Gyro followed right behind him, giving Tim a subtle thumbs up behind Johnny’s back. Tim just smiled and patted Ghost’s neck.

Johnny met Ghost properly first, stroking his nose and letting him sniff as much as he pleased. To Tim’s credit, the former feral horse was extremely well-behaved. He didn’t seem freaked out by the prospect of a new rider at all.

Johnny checked out the tack for himself, verifying that it was adjusted and cinched correctly. Even though he hadn’t done this for years— maybe a hundred years or more, Gyro didn’t know— he went about it with practiced ease.

Like riding a bike, Gyro thought. Except the bike has a mind of its own and can trample you to death.

“All right,” Johnny said finally. “I’m ready.”

“We got a mounting block, if that’d help at all,” Tim said.

“Don’t need it,” Johnny said. “I got Gyro.”

Gyro perked up at the mention of his name. “How do I…?”

“Help me keep my balance, first off, so I can get into position,” Johnny said. “Then, when I tell you, boost me up.”

“Right.”

Gyro came to stand behind Johnny, steadying him as he handed his crutches off to Tim. He wobbled a bit, but Gyro was right there to keep him up. Then Johnny took the reins in his left hand and placed it on Ghost’s neck.

“Steady me,” he instructed. “I’m gonna lift my leg into the stirrup, so I might fall.”

“I got you,” Gyro said.

He put an arm underneath Johnny’s to catch him in case his legs gave out. Johnny grabbed his left knee with his right hand and heaved it up. He started to pitch over, but Gyro held him.

At the same time, Gyro held his breath. He’d never been this close to Johnny. He knew this wasn’t necessarily intimate, that he was just helping a friend, but he couldn’t help but hold tight. He wanted Johnny to know that he wouldn’t let him fall.

When Johnny’s foot was in the stirrup— rather high up, Gyro would say— he nodded. “Okay, now boost me. I gotta get my other leg over the horse.”

“Got it,” Gyro said softly.

He realized that the best way to do this, physics-wise, would be to put his hand under Johnny’s thigh and lift him. But that’d mean basically grabbing Johnny’s ass. Gyro was glad that Johnny was facing away from him, so he couldn’t see his blush. Well… if I have to.

“On the count of three,” Gyro said. “One, two, three—“

He at least tried to make it as fast as possible, slipping his hands under Johnny’s weight and hefting on three. He felt Johnny push himself up as much as possible, straining his leg in the stirrup to help Gyro out. In one swift motion, Johnny went from standing on the dirt to sitting astride Ghost.

When he was up, Gyro took a few steps back. Johnny adjusted, situating his legs comfortably. His jaw was set in focus. He took the reins in one hand and patted Ghost’s rump with the other. The horse started to move forward in a walk. Johnny patted him again to get him to trot.

Gyro was surprised and a little nervous to see Johnny pick up speed so fast. He was still fully aware that Johnny could fall.

“Careful!” he called after him. “Johnny…”

"He's okay,” Tim said, coming to stand beside Gyro. “Watch ‘im.”

Gyro swallowed thickly and did just that: he watched Johnny ride Ghost around the arena at a trot. He moved in sync with the animal with a steady, sure rhythm between them. Although Gyro was sure that he had to make changes to his riding style due to his disability, he didn’t show it. In fact, he made it look easy. That was how Gyro knew he was good. He relaxed a bit, even as Johnny upped his pace to a canter.

Johnny and Ghost passed them, stirring up a breeze. It took only a second, but time seemed to slow down for Gyro as he watched Johnny’s face. He was genuinely grinning, eyes lit up like Gyro’d never seen before. When he was sitting tall on Ghost’s back, he looked ready to take on the world.

As for Gyro, his heart was pounding like some wild thing pent up in his chest. Watching Johnny, all he could do was smile stupidly and think of how damn lucky he was to know someone like him.

Then they were gone again, racing around the arena. Gyro couldn’t tear his eyes away for even a moment. He felt like if he blinked he would miss it, and if he missed it, he’d never feel right again.

It was then that Gyro realized that was Lucy said was right: he was in love. Right here, right now, with this man. There was no denying it. And maybe it was just Gyro being dramatic, but he swore that the weight of that coming down on him made him stagger.

“I know,” Tim said, and for a moment Gyro thought he might’ve accidentally said something out loud. But Tim was looking at Johnny, not at Gyro. He was marveling at Johnny’s horsemanship. “It’s amazing. He’s a true-blue natural.”

He shook his head with an amused smile. “Must’ve been a helluva jockey. Can’t believe I never heard of him.”

After finishing a second lap, Johnny wheeled around and came to a stop near them. He and Ghost were both breathing hard, but Johnny was still smiling. He stroked Ghost’s mane in approval.

“Rides like a dream, Tim,” he said. “You trained him good.”

“Thank you,” Tim said. “It takes a good rider, too, so thank yourself as well.”

Johnny turned his gaze to Gyro, beaming. That expression directed at him nearly knocked him flat.

“You mind if I ride a little longer?” he asked. “Don’t wanna bore you, but…”

“It’s not boring,” Gyro said. “Not in the slightest.”

Gyro didn’t know it was possible, but Johnny’s smile widened. “Thanks, Gyro.”

He started off again with a firm pat to Ghost’s rear. As the two took off again, Tim turned to Gyro.

“Whaddya say?” he asked. “You wanna join him?”

“On a horse?” Gyro scratched his chin. “Don’t know if I could. It’s been a long, long time.”

Tim jerked his thumb in Johnny’s direction. “If that ain’t all the proof you need that you never forget, I don’t know what else to tell ya.”

He raised his brows. “Plus, I think Johnny’d like it.”

Damn you, Tim, Gyro thought. If it’d make Johnny happy, then of course he couldn’t say no.

“You don’t happen to have another horse who rides as easy as Ghost hidden in there…?” he asked.

“No need,” Tim said, waving his hand. “I already know who’ll be perfect for you. Wait here.”

He went back inside, leaving Gyro to marvel over Johnny some more. He couldn’t help it— Johnny looked like he belonged up there on horseback, like this was what he was born for. He couldn’t believe that it’d taken so long for him to ride again. All it took was a chance.

After a few minutes, Tim came back leading another horse. To Gyro’s surprise, it was the mare that he’d interacted with earlier, Valkyrie. He’d put some sort of hood over her head along with her tack, which made her look even more intense. He could easily imagine her out on the track, leaving the other competitors in the dust. The thought was inexplicably pleasing.

“Hello again,” Gyro said, approaching Valkyrie somewhat cautiously. This time, she allowed him to pet her without any trouble this time.

“Valkyrie’s a retired racer,” Tim said. “I think that’s why she feels more comfortable with the blinder hood on. Helps her focus, y’know?”

“I see,” Gyro said. “Is she… you know… safe?”

“As long as you don’t do anything stupid, sure.”

Gyro exhaled. “Okay. Right. Nothing stupid.”

“D’you remember what Johnny did?” Tim asked.

“…Refresh me.”

Tim walked him through it: how to check his tack, where to put his hands and feet, how to push himself up without dragging the saddle off. When he was pretty sure he could do it without injuring himself or the horse, Gyro took a deep breath and gave it a shot.

The first jump didn’t get him quite high enough, so he tried again. The second time he almost fell off the other side, but managed to get his foot in the right stirrup just in time.

“Whew,” he said, settling on Valkyrie’s back. “Harder than it looks.”

Tim chuckled. Johnny must’ve seen the show, because he came trotting over with Ghost.

“Look at you, cowboy,” he drawled.

From his eyes Gyro could clearly see Johnny looking him up and down, gaze sweeping over his body. He knew it was just to check that he was doing everything right, but he liked to imagine Johnny was checking him out. He sat up a little straighter.

“You know how to make her walk?” Johnny asked. “Just squeeze your legs. Gentle, now.”

Gyro did so, and Valkyrie responded. She started a slow, almost lazy amble forward, like she knew Gyro was an amateur and she was over it. Johnny rode up alongside him, still watching him closely.

“Just keep it loose, now,” Johnny instructed. “Your back’s nice and straight, but don’t get rigid. Remember, she can feel everything you do.”

Gyro couldn’t lie: this was making him kind of nervous. Valkyrie didn’t seem exactly like a beginner’s horse. But she stuck right to Ghost’s side. It was like she could sense that Johnny was the one who was really in control.

“Move with her,” Johnny said. “She knows what she’s doing. Trust her.”

“You weren’t there earlier,” Gyro said. “When she tried to bite me.”

Johnny snorted. “Just means she’s a good judge of character.”

Johnny guided him through how to turn, stop, and speed up (in theory— Gyro didn’t want to get to trotting just yet). Gyro enjoyed every second of it... not necessarily because he was a natural like Johnny, but because he liked the confidence and care in Johnny’s voice. He could have such a flat affect, but up here he wasn’t trying to hide his emotions.

“Doin’ great, Gy,” Johnny said. The little nickname made Gyro’s heart skip. “Who knows, maybe you really were a cowboy in a past life?”

“Ha, don’t give me ideas,” Gyro said. “Or I might just challenge you to a race.”

Johnny laughed at that. “Gyro, you couldn’t outrun me if you and all your ancestors were horseback riders.”

“You don’t know that! Give me a little bit of time and I’ll be ready for the Triple Crown.”

“Psh, let me tell you something about the Triple Crown…”

They went around the pasture a few times, chatting about horses, riding, and racing. Johnny had never opened up so much about his past, but it was truly fascinating. He told Gyro about his glory days on the track, without so much as a whiff of sadness for what he’d lost. Perhaps now that he was literally back in the saddle, he didn’t feel the grief so much.

“People were crazy about me, you know that?” he said. “They called me Joekid ‘cause I was a rookie, but I outclassed everyone out there. Girls would fight each other for my gloves after a race. And I mean fight fight. Can you believe that?”

Yes, in fact. Judging from the jealous pang in his stomach, Gyro would’ve fought them too.

“I even had a few guys proposition me,” Johnny went on, oblivious to Gyro’s emotions. “And ya gotta remember, this was, what? Eighteen eighty-eight? That shit was dangerous. But they wanted me that bad.”

Gyro wasn’t sure if hearing this made him more or less jealous. He did see that it was a good opportunity to verify for himself what Lucy had told him.

“Did you ever say yes?” he ventured to ask.

“Back then? No way,” Johnny said.

That wasn’t enough information. Gyro swallowed his fear and pride and pressed onward. “And what about now?”

Johnny looked down. He pet Ghost’s mane absently.

“Maybe,” he said. “Times have changed since then. I guess I’ve changed too." 

Gyro saw the subtle motion of Johnny's tongue under his lips, swiping over his teeth. Oh. 

"Sometimes," Gyro ventured, "change is good."

Johnny just snorted, like that didn't even warrant a response. Gyro was fine with that. He changed the topic after that and they rode on. And on, and on. Gyro could’ve kept it up all night if Tim hadn’t flagged them down. 

“Hey, ya’ll,” he said. “Thought I should let you know— it’s almost 2 AM.”

Gyro and Johnny were used to this kind of schedule but, judging from his reddened eyes, Tim was not. He usually didn’t spend his weekends like this, apparently. With a guilty twinge Gyro realized they were keeping him up going around in circles like this.

“Gotcha,” Gyro called back. “We’ll finish up.”

“Wait, Gyro,” Johnny said. “One more time around?”

He looked so hopeful and pleading that Gyro couldn’t say no. He turned back to Tim with a signature grin.

“One more time around,” he said. “Then we’ll be out of your hair.”

Tim nodded and went back in the barn. They started out again, following the wide curve of the ring. Johnny looked pensive, angling his head to look at the stars. Gyro didn’t want to interrupt his concentration and appreciation of the moment, so he stayed quiet. He was more than happy to watch the constellations in Johnny’s eyes.

But then, Johnny spoke:

“This is the best day I’ve had in a long time, Gyro.”

Gyro’s chest puffed up. Mission accomplished. “Glad to hear it.”

“I can’t believe that you put this all together without me even knowing,” Johnny said. He was talking to Gyro but looking right on forward. “Might just be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Well, I…” Gyro’s nerve suddenly faltered. He bit his lip. “It means a lot to hear you say that, Johnny.”

“I just wanted to thank you.” Johnny’s voice suddenly dropped in volume. “For everything. For tonight, for giving me a place to stay, for helping me with… everything I've got going on. I… I can’t say I know why you’re doing it, but I appreciate it.”

The night was refreshing, the stars twinkling overhead. The horses were calm and going easy. Johnny was happy, and because of that, Gyro was too. It was the perfect moment. Gyro knew he’d be a fool not to seize it. He’d be a fool for the rest of his life.

Worst of all, since he was aware of all this, he’d be a coward too. And Gyro Zeppeli was no coward.

“I’ll tell you why I’m doing it,” he said. “I like you, Johnny.”

Saying that was like releasing a breath he’d been holding for hours. Years, even. It filled his body with relief. The pressure was off— he’d said his piece.

Johnny nodded. “I like you too, Gyro.”

Gyro felt elated for a moment before he realized: Johnny’s tone was too casual. He didn’t get it. His heart started to pound again, throwing him off.

“I mean— as more than friends,” he said. “I like you. Like, I wanna, um... Go out with you?”

Why did that come out as a question? Shit. His nerves were starting to betray him. And now he was thinking of what he and Lucy had discussed: their living situation, and how it might be weird for Johnny to hear this.

“But, like, don’t feel pressured or anything,” he blurted out. “It’s— it’s cool if you don’t feel the same way. You can tell me to fuck right off if you want to. I promise it won’t make me stop helping you or anything like that. I’d still wanna be friends… if that’s okay with you.”

You’re rambling, he told himself. He forced himself to shut his mouth.

Johnny, meanwhile, said nothing. His expression was, yet again, completely neutral. Gyro knew better than to think that meant he wasn’t thinking or feeling anything, but Gyro had no clue what those things might be.

Finally, after an agonizing silence, Johnny lifted his head.

“Let’s go back in,” he said.

And that was it. That was all he said. For the first time, Johnny sped up on Ghost, leaving Gyro behind. Gyro stared after him, all the blood draining from his face.

I fucked up was all he could think. I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up. How the hell were they supposed to drive home now? How was Gyro ever supposed to look Johnny in the eyes again…?

He tried to urge Valkyrie on a little, but she kept up her steady pace. Guess those blinders really did keep her focus straight. That meant all he could do was watch as Johnny stopped Ghost up ahead and unceremoniously dropped from the saddle.

“Johnny!” Gyro at least knew how to make Valkyrie stop, and he did so. Without waiting for Tim or anyone else, he took his feet out of the stirrups and jumped down. The landing wasn’t as graceful as he’d hoped and he stumbled, but managed to stay upright. He ran to Johnny and nearly dropped to his knees next to him.

“Johnny, are you—“ Gyro reached out to touch Johnny’s shoulder, but before he could Johnny wrenched away violently. He kept his face turned away from Gyro.

“Don’t touch me," he snapped. "I'm fine." 

Gyro recoiled as if slapped across the face. He blinked rapidly and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Don’t touch me. He never heard anything as heartbreaking as that.

Moving almost automatically, Gyro turned around. He went back to where Valkyrie was wandering riderless and gently took her reins. He watched Tim come out from the barn in a tizzy, asking Johnny if he’d fallen, to which Johnny said no, he was okay, he just wanted his crutches back. As soon as Tim got them for him, Johnny got to his feet and left the arena.

Gyro approached, leading Valkyrie. Tim winced upon seeing him. He must have sensed trouble— but anyone would have. Gyro was visibly dejected, eyes and shoulders down.

“Did, uh… did somethin’ happen?” he asked.

“No,” Gyro said flatly. “Nothing.”

Johnny was nowhere in the barn when they went in. Gyro longed to search for him, but instead he offered to help Tim untack the horses. Tim gratefully accepted, and told Gyro what to do to take off Valkyrie’s gear. Gyro did so as if in a trance, his mind more or less blank. It was like if he tried to think of anything, anything at all, it would open the floodgates to much less wanted thoughts.

“Thanks again for doing this,” he told Tim when they were finished, although it was hard to sound grateful right now.

“No problem,” Tim said gently. “You let me know first thing if you wanna come back, ya hear?”

That won’t be necessary, Gyro thought. But that was too harsh to say. Instead, he simply tipped his head in acknowledgement and left.

Johnny was sitting in the passenger seat of Ballbreaker, looking down at his phone. He didn’t look up even when Gyro climbed in the car alongside him. But Gyro could tell he wasn’t doing anything— just staring at the screen blankly, not even scrolling or anything.

He turned on the car. Music started to blare, making them both jump. Gyro hit the off button on the radio, plunging them back into stifling silence. He almost preferred getting his ears blown off.

The silence continued as Gyro started driving home. No detours this time, just a straight shot back to his apartment. He wanted so badly to say something, anything, but nothing made sense anymore. There was nothing to say. He could talk Johnny’s ear off if he wanted, apologize or make it seem like a joke or pretend it didn’t happen, but the whole idea of that struck him as sad and useless. 

By the time they got home, Gyro felt well and truly defeated. He’d told himself that he could cope if Johnny rejected him, but this wasn’t even a rejection. It was nothing. And that was all he felt: nothing.

They went up to Gyro’s apartment. Johnny went straight to the bathroom, shutting himself inside. Gyro strained his ear to hear what he was doing, but Johnny turned the faucet on straightaway so the sound of running water drowned everything else out.

Gyro thought about knocking on the door, but then stopped himself. He shouldn’t impose anymore. It’d be best to just give Johnny space. That seemed like what he wanted, anyway.

He went into his room and shut the door. He usually never did that when Johnny was home and he was awake, but right now he kind of wanted neither of those things to be true, so consider it a form of wish fulfillment.

The night hours seemed to pass even slower than usual. Gyro tried doing everything to distract himself, but none of it was working. Eventually he just lay on his bed, face-up, telling himself over and over again that Johnny wants space.

Give him space, Gyro thought. If he wants to talk about it, he’ll come to you.

With that thought, he frowned. Who the fuck are you kidding? he asked himself. Johnny’s not gonna be the one to initiate this conversation.

He sat up. It had to be him. He’d started this, he had to make it right. Somehow. He had no plan, no idea what he was doing, but he had to do something.

He jumped out of bed and ran to the door. Throwing it open, he burst into the room, hoping to see Johnny on the couch. “John—“

But he wasn’t there. Gyro stopped. He peeked in the bathroom. It was empty. The kitchen, too. Empty. His apartment— empty.

Johnny was gone.

---

When they got back to Gyro’s apartment, Johnny fled to the first place he could think of for some privacy: the bathroom.

He hobbled as fast as he could and shut himself inside. His legs were starting to get weak again, but he didn’t dare ask Gyro to get his wheelchair for him. He didn’t dare ask Gyro for anything. He didn’t know if he could stand letting Gyro even look at him right now.

Once Johnny locked the door, he immediately turned on the faucet. With the water running, Gyro wouldn’t be able to hear what he did next: slide to the floor and begin to weep.

It’s too much, Johnny thought. He couldn’t keep up like this.

It was doable when they were just hanging out, because it was always under the pretense of friendship and camaraderie. Johnny knew that Gyro wasn’t seeing anyone, he knew that he liked men— hell, he even knew that he had a thing for Johnny, based on stuff he said when he was drunk or not thinking. But without that explicit confirmation of his feelings, Johnny had been able to pretend.

Now, that illusion was shattered. Gyro liked him. And it was too much for Johnny to bear.

Why? he asked silently, wrapping his arms around himself. Why me? Hadn’t God punished him enough for everything he’d done? Wasn’t once enough?

That thought made him start sobbing anew. He buried his face in his knees. He felt completely pathetic. In a hundred and fifty years he hadn’t managed to grow up. All this time and he didn’t learn a damn thing.

Forgive me, he thought, a prayer to nobody in particular. Well, maybe to one person. But there was no telling whether or not they were even listening.

No matter how much Johnny tried to fight it, he liked Gyro too. That was why he was so heartbroken. It was one thing to pine over someone who didn’t care about you. It was another to love and be loved by someone you could never, ever have. That was another monster entirely.

Slowly Johnny’s tears subsided, leaving him exhausted inside and out. He leaned back against the cold wall and stared into space. He no longer felt anything, not even sadness. It was over for him.

Numb, Johnny dragged himself to the door. He listened but heard nothing, nor could he preternaturally sense Gyro nearby. He must’ve gone to his room, then. That meant Johnny had to act.

He grabbed his braces, then dragged himself into a standing position. His legs shook like nobody’s business-- the blood was wearing off-- but Johnny ignored them for now. He turned off the faucet and emerged into the living space.

As he predicted, it was empty. Johnny didn’t stop moving for a second as he got his chair and backpack. He knew that if he lost his momentum, he’d never get it back. He’d never be able to save himself— or Gyro, for that matter.

So Johnny slipped through the door without even saying goodbye.

Notes:

...uh oh.
notes:
>The bureau that Johnny refers to is the US Bureau of Land Management, which rallies up and auctions off feral horses (such as mustangs) to be rehomed.
>Of course, all the horses mentioned here are the lovely participants of the Steel Ball Run.
>An SBR quote may or may not have sneaked its way into the dialogue... if you catch it, you get a gold star!

Chapter 10: pity and fear

Summary:

Gyro thinks he may have wrecked things irreparably between him and Johnny. But things are much, much more complicated than they seem.

Notes:

things are heating up! today's chapter soundtrack is "Pity and Fear" by Death Cab for Cutie.

This was what Gyro knew:

Johnny left the apartment on Saturday at around 3 AM. Although Gyro was heartbroken, he figured that maybe Johnny had just gone out to clear his head or something. Gyro was no stranger to taking long walks to think things through.

But when Johnny didn’t come back by sunrise, Gyro started to worry. Daylight was deadly to him, after all.

He agonized over it for a long time but eventually sent Johnny a text, just to make sure that he was okay. He didn’t mention anything about his confession.

A “read” message appeared, but nothing else. So Johnny was alive. But he wasn’t talking.

Gyro could hardly sleep, even when his body was begging him to get some rest. He tried to tell himself that he should have expected this. Johnny considering Gyro a good friend and enjoying himself in Gyro’s presence didn’t mean he had feelings for him.

And of course that meant he would leave the apartment— wouldn’t anybody? He didn’t want to deal with the stress and awkwardness of sharing a living space with someone who was hopelessly pining over him. Gyro couldn’t blame him for that.

Gyro only had himself to blame, if anyone. He never should have let things get to this point. He wanted to help Johnny as a friend and to have him as a lover. He should have known that he couldn’t have it both ways.

Gyro had to laugh bitterly at himself. His father was right. Sentiment only led to misfortune. The right thing to do would have been to squash his feelings as soon as he found out what kind of situation Johnny was in. That’s what his father would’ve told him to do.

But Gyro never wanted to do what was right, did he? He only wanted to make himself feel good. In doing so, he’d ruined everything for the both of them.

The rest of the weekend was spent in a sort of post-breakup despair, even though he and Johnny had never been together and now they never would be. Gyro’s sleep schedule got even more fucked up, and he wasn’t eating great either. By the time his first weekly shift rolled around, he was thrown off in all sorts of ways.

He couldn’t focus at work— couldn’t help thinking of Johnny out there on his own again, no place to go, nobody to rely on. Wekapipo scolded him more than once, in English and Italian. Gyro tried to reorient himself, but he felt like he no longer knew which way was up.

Lucy and HP quickly took note, too. Lucy especially looked devastated. She pulled him aside before their break ended on Monday.

“What happened this weekend?” she asked, wringing her hands.

Gyro hung his head. He hadn’t spoken aloud what had happened and was almost afraid to. Like saying it would make it real. But Lucy’s worried eyes implored him.

“I confessed to Johnny,” he said. “He… didn’t take it well, I guess. He left home and… I haven’t seen him since.”

“Oh, Gyro… I’m so sorry,” Lucy said. “He went off on his own? I thought he had no place to stay.”

“He doesn’t,” Gyro said with a strained voice.

“O-oh.” Lucy looked down, shifting her weight. “I… I’m sorry.”

She raised her hand to touch his sleeve, but Gyro couldn’t stand to be touched. It made him think of how he tried to put his hand on Johnny’s shoulder, only for Johnny to say those heartbreaking words: don’t touch me.

He pulled away from Lucy with a slight growl, averting his eyes.

“Just leave me alone,” he said.

As he stormed off, Gyro saw HP watching them. Her dark eyes were impassive. And although he had no good reason to, Gyro felt like she was silently saying I told you so. He scowled at her before stomping back to work.

---

Gyro tried to get back into his routine, but none of it felt right anymore. He’d started doing all these things with Johnny— making breakfast, going to Sugar’s, watching movies— so without him it just felt empty. When the weekend came again, marking one week since Johnny had left, Gyro was wondering if there was a point to staying in this city at all.

I could continue my residency somewhere else, he thought to himself as he rummaged absent-mindedly through his fridge. New city, new mindset. And I wouldn’t take the night shift.

But that would require applications, and forms, and calling home to tell his family that his address was changing, which would require an excuse that would please his father and… Gyro dropped his head, feeling utterly defeated.

That was when something caught his eye.

On the bottom shelf, near the very back, was where Johnny kept his blood supply. Gyro had gotten used to it, so he sort of forgot that it was there until now. Johnny had built up a good buffer during the time they’d lived together: fifteen extra blood bags that were neatly stacked behind the eggs and cheese.

At least, that was how many he had the last time that Gyro had checked… which was before Johnny left.

There were still some back there now, by the looks of it. Gyro’s first thought was that maybe this meant Johnny was coming back. This stuff was his life, after all.

Or he only took as much as he could carry, Gyro thought dejectedly. Now that he thought about it, Johnny’s backpack wasn’t big enough to carry fifteen blood bags in addition to his clothes and other possessions, however paltry their amount may have been. He probably only took as many as he could.

It was a sort of morbid curiosity that made Gyro take the bags out. He wanted to know how long Johnny had before he went back to stealing from the hospital. He told himself that at least that way, he could keep making sure that Johnny didn’t get caught. So he moved his real food aside and started removing the bags one by one.

Gyro did the math in his head as he went. I have one, so Johnny has fourteen. I have two, so Johnny has thirteen. He wasn’t expecting his number to get so high while Johnny’s kept dropping. I have seven, so Johnny has eight. I have eight, so Johnny has seven…

When all the bags were out on the kitchen table, Gyro stopped. He stared numbly at the empty shelf.

“I have fifteen,” he murmured aloud. “So Johnny has none.”

There was a pit so deep and black in Gyro’s stomach that he wondered how his guts weren’t spilling out onto the floor. Johnny… what the hell are you thinking?

His phone started to ring. Gyro jumped out of his skin; he started shoving bags back into the fridge as if the police were banging on his door.

He picked up the call with shaking hands. “Pronto.”

“Gyro, it’s me.” Lucy’s voice came across the receiver. “I know you might not want to talk to me, but… I just want to apologize.”

Gyro slumped down into a chair at the kitchen table. He’d been avoiding Lucy since he yelled at her. He felt too bad about that episode to face her again. It was just another instance of him letting his emotions take over his reason.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” he said with a sigh.

“I just feel responsible,” Lucy said, and Gyro could hear the anxiety in her voice. “I was the one who told you to tell Johnny how you felt. If I hadn’t done that, maybe he wouldn’t have left.”

“Stop that,” Gyro said sternly. “This is my fault— all of it. I should have thought about how my feelings would affect our friendship.”

“But you love him,” Lucy said in a small voice.

Gyro held the phone away from him so Lucy couldn’t hear the pained rattle in his throat when he inhaled. He quickly blew the breath out again and returned to the call.

“You’re not responsible,” he said. “I was going to end up telling him one way or another.”

This was bound to happen, he thought. Ball, meet net.

“Gyro…” Lucy sniffed on the other end. “I just wanted to let you know… maybe it was overstepping my boundaries, but you said that Johnny had nowhere to go, so… I made a few calls. To some shelters and stuff in the area, y’know? A-And they said they haven’t seen him yet, but if they do—“

“He won’t go to a shelter, Lucy,” Gyro said. “He— he’s probably already left town.”

He didn’t realize that was true until he said it. Johnny was an expert at not leaving a trace. He’d been traveling all over the country for years without papers. If he’d already been in this city for a few years, he was probably already thinking about leaving before he even met Gyro.

Gyro grabbed his head, which had suddenly begun pounding. His father had trained him to never cry. Sentiment. Now, whenever he felt like he needed to, he’d just get a headache instead. Like all the tears that he couldn’t shed were building up inside his skull, creating blinding pressure.

“I’m never gonna see him again, am I?” he said in a strangled voice.

“You can’t just give up!” Lucy exclaimed. “I know things are complicated between the two of you, but we can still do something— just to make sure he’s okay—“

As she spoke, Gyro was working dutifully on collecting himself, the way his father taught him. He cut Lucy off sharply.

“Don’t, Lucy. Please. This is his choice. I— We’ve got to just let him go. Do what he needs to do.”

He heard Lucy take a deep breath.

“You know him better than me,” she said in a wobbly voice. “But if it were me, I— even if I didn’t want to be found… I’d want someone to at least look for me.”

Gyro curled his hand into a fist on the table. Goddamnit... He’d want that too. And for so long, he feared that nobody in this country would look for him if he suddenly disappeared. Until he met Johnny.

“I gotta go, Lucy,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll talk to you at work next week.”

“Take care,” Lucy said, then hung up.

Gyro stared at his phone in his shaking hands. Johnny might already be on a bus or train to the next major metropolitan center. But wherever he was, he was alone, with no food and nowhere to stay. Forget about how Gyro felt about him romantically— they were friends first, and he couldn’t let a friend slip away like that.

He opened his texts. All there was was the last message that Gyro had sent, which Johnny had read but never replied to. Before he could overthink it, Gyro sent a new text:

>just let me know you’re okay.

---

Another week passed.

Gyro had to get his head on straight again. He was messed up inside, sure, but he had a job to do that was more important than his personal stuff. From then on, when he entered the hospital, he left it all at the door. While he had his coat and badge on, he was no longer Gyro but the future Dr. Zeppeli.

If only my father could see me now, he thought dryly. He’d be so proud.

Taking that responsibility seriously meant that he had to do something about the blood in his fridge. Some of it was rapidly approaching the date when it would no longer be usable. Gyro smuggled what was still acceptable back into the hospital in a lunchbox, which felt absurd and wrong but worked. He kept one bag, just in case.

Lucy, thankfully, toned down her “rescue efforts.” She still kept her eye on the city’s shelters, she said, but she was dissuaded from filing a missing persons report or some nonsense like that. Gyro was relieved. He knew that if Lucy went to the cops, she’d only find out that “Johnny Joestar” didn’t exist. That was a complication that neither Gyro nor Johnny needed right now. When Gyro gently informed her that he was trying not to bring that stuff to work anymore, she immediately stopped bringing it up.

But to Gyro’s surprise, someone else inquired about Johnny’s whereabouts: Hot Pants. She maintained an air of casual disinterest, but Gyro had noted how closely she attended to his and Lucy’s hushed discussions.

“Did your friend leave town?” she asked one day, entirely out of the blue. Lucy wasn’t with them; it was just Gyro and her in the break room. 

Gyro looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Usually without Lucy as an intermediary the two of them weren’t very conversational. They didn’t discuss the weather, let alone Johnny.

He turned his attention back to his coffee cup. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Did he tell you where he was going?”

Gyro’s eye twitched. “No. He didn’t.”

HP looked at him like she knew every sin he’d ever committed in his life. Gyro left the break room without finishing his coffee.

Another surprising source of concern was Tim. He heard about Johnny’s disappearance from Lucy and expressed his sympathy to Gyro. He must’ve sensed that it had something to do with what happened at the stables, but he minded his business in a way that Gyro deeply appreciated. Instead of offering advice or asking cryptic questions, he sent Gyro photos of the horses.

One day, he sent a picture of a gash on his hand. A bite, Gyro surmised.

Courtesy of Slow Dancer, Tim wrote. Tried to saddle her up, but she wasn’t having it.

Strangely enough, this was the thing that got Gyro the closest to crying. Because he knew Johnny would want to see it— would want to see every update Tim sent, no matter how small— and it killed Gyro inside that he couldn’t show it to him.

When Gyro wasn’t dealing with work or other people, he did what he had to do: he went out looking for Johnny. On his way to the hospital and on his way home, he drove to places that he’d been with Johnny or that Johnny had mentioned: Sugar’s Diner, Blackmore’s, the Steels’ barn, even the convenience store where they’d first met.

He felt a little bit like a stalker, but if Johnny was still in the city Gyro wanted to know. He wanted to give Johnny the last bag of blood that he had left. He sometimes rode around with it in a cooler in the passenger seat, thinking that if he saw Johnny, he wouldn’t even say anything— he’d just give him one last meal and move on. At least, that was the only way he could realistically see himself “moving on” at this moment.

The last message Gyro had sent to Johnny was marked read within a few days. Gyro got his hopes up that he might respond for a day or two afterwards, but as the time passed those hopes disappeared as quickly as they’d come. It wasn’t an accident that Johnny had read and ignored his messages two times in a row. He really didn’t want to be found, after all.

Or, that was what Gyro thought until Saturday night.

---

It was the middle of the night. Gyro was sitting at his kitchen table studying some medical texts, his last resort for taking his mind off the current situation. His phone was charging on the counter nearby when it started to ring.

Probably a spam call, Gyro thought. But still, old habits died hard. He’d been checking his phone obsessively for the past two, almost three weeks. Might as well look one more time.

He turned his phone over, observing the screen. Johnny, it read. Oh, so it was spam.

Gyro went to set it back down when he froze. Wait. Johnny. Johnny was calling!

He scrambled to unplug his phone and answer the call. To keep from yelling first thing, he covered his mouth as he held the phone up to his ear.

But Johnny didn’t start speaking. After a few seconds of silence, Gyro uncovered his mouth.

“Johnny?” he said hesitantly. “It’s Gyro… did you mean to call me?”

Johnny’s voice suddenly erupted over the speakers. He sounded like he was holding the phone right up to his mouth and whispering.

“Don’t speak,” he said. “Don’t say anything. Just listen to me.”

It was difficult for Gyro not to respond to that, but he managed. He heard Johnny’s labored breath, but nothing else for a time. What’s wrong with him?

“I wanted you to hear this,” Johnny said finally. “I don’t want you to do anything. I just wanted someone to just— just hear me one last time.”

“What?” Gyro’s heart rate shot up. One last time? What was he talking about? “Johnny, where are you?”

“Shut up!” Johnny hissed. “I just— I wanted to tell you… that I'm sorry." 

His voice began to sound constricted, like he was on the verge of tears. “I— I really can’t— I can never repay you, Gyro. I wish I could, but it’s just— it’s not going to happen now.”

“What are you talking about?” Gyro whispered into the receiver. “Johnny. Where. Are. You?”

“I don’t know,” Johnny said in a strained voice. “God, Gyro, I— I’m just… so, so fucking sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Gyro asked, growing more desperate by the second. “Are— are you in danger?”

He felt like he could crush his phone in his hands from gripping it so hard. If Johnny was in trouble— if he was hurt— Gyro had to do something. Anything. Everything that he'd told himself about staying out of it, about not letting his emotions get the better of him, evaporated in that moment. 

He heard Johnny inhale sharply, presumably to collect himself. When he next spoke, his voice was like steel. 

“Do not come looking for me,” he said. “I’m telling you right now— forget about me, Gyro. You hear me? Forget I ever existed. It’s better that way.”

Gyro stood up, slamming his fist down on the table.

“I won’t!” he said. “Whatever’s going on, Johnny, I swear to you: I will find you. I’m going to find you, and I’m going to bring you home!”

Johnny sounded stunned. "G... Gyro..." 

Another voice came through, from a distance: “Holy shit, did you not take his fucking phone?”

Gyro’s eyes widened. There— there’s someone else with him! He heard Johnny gasp as the sound of rushing footsteps got louder. Then, the line went dead.

Gyro covered his mouth in horror. He’d thought that Johnny had just run away, but clearly that wasn’t the case. He hadn’t left town. He’d been kidnapped. That was why Johnny didn’t know where he was, and why he insisted that Gyro stay quiet.

That phone call was Johnny’s last hope of salvation. And by yelling over the phone, Gyro… Gyro may have just blown it for him.

He could’ve smashed his phone on the ground, he was so fucking angry. Instead he started to pace around the kitchen anxiously, tugging at his hair. He tried to think clearly, but his fear and anger kept driving his mind to dark places: what if Johnny gets killed? What if it’s my fault? He’d never be able to forgive himself. He’d never be able to—

“Stop it!” he shouted at himself. “This isn’t helping!”

Gyro forced himself to take a seat again and calm his breathing. This was just a problem like any other. Johnny’s life was on the line, but Gyro dealt with that on a daily basis at the hospital. He may have been letting his emotion fuel him, but he couldn't let it cloud his vision. 

Going to the authorities wasn’t an option. Even if they could find Johnny, it would only cause more trouble for him in the long run. Only Gyro could find and help Johnny now.

Figure it out, Gyro thought. Who would kidnap Johnny?

This was a tricky question, because Gyro didn’t know everyone that Johnny knew. Given the length of his life, that list was probably pretty long. He had to narrow it down somehow.

Okay, what about this: who could kidnap Johnny? Johnny wasn’t an easy target. He possessed abilities that he could use to defend himself. A normal human, even if they were a psychopathic killer, would be outclassed by Johnny’s strength and speed if not completely neutralized by his charisma.

That meant that whoever captured him probably a), knew he was a vampire and b), had the knowledge and resources to capture him anyway. What kind of person would that be?

The more he thought about it, the more Gyro was confident that he knew. The only type of person who could defeat a vampire was another vampire. And there was one other vampire that Gyro knew of who was also Johnny’s enemy: Diego Brando.

Gyro ran to his bedroom to grab his laptop. He opened it and immediately searched for Diego to see if there was any information about him on the internet. But he quickly discovered that, like Johnny, Diego didn’t have any social media or any official records.

He must be in the same position as Johnny, Gyro realized. He was probably a hundred years old or more, which meant he was basically nonexistent in all modern databases. Yet again, Gyro was on his own for this one.

Except… he had one source of information on Diego that he was pretty sure he could rely on. He picked up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. When he found the number, he dialed immediately.

He hoped that it wasn’t too late. But then again, he doubted that she’d be asleep anyway. She, too, worked the night shift.

There were two rings, and then the person on the other end answered:

“HP speaking.”

Gyro sighed in relief. Thank God she picked up.

“It’s Gyro,” he said. “I need your help.”

“…help with what?” HP asked.

“You’re friends with Diego Brando, right?”

HP was quiet for a moment. “You could say that.”

Gyro pressed his lips together. He knew this conversation wasn’t going to be easy, per se, but this wasn’t even the hard part. This was the hard part: lying about why he needed to know where Diego was right the fuck now.

“I’m trying to reach him,” he said, working to keep his voice as neutral as possible. “Do you know how I could find him?”

“What do you need him for?” HP asked immediately.

Gyro cringed. He was hoping she wouldn’t ask, but then again, this was HP he was dealing with. She was suspicious by default.

“I… think he might know where Johnny got to,” he said. “See, uh… Johnny left some stuff at my place and I’m trying to figure out how to get it back to him. And— Johnny mentioned that he sometimes stayed at Diego’s place! So, uh, I was hoping to get, like, an address? So I could drop Johnny’s stuff off for him…?”

He silently pumped his fist as he managed to not say anything completely idiotic. He was usually shit at coming up with lies on the fly, but that one was pretty good if he did say so himself. Now he just had to hope that HP bought it.

“Diego doesn’t live in this city,” HP said flatly.

“That’s fine. I have a car.”

“Also, you don’t know him.”

Gyro blanched. “So…?”

“So what makes you think I’m going to give you his address out of the blue?” HP asked, somewhat accusingly if Gyro wasn’t mistaken. “I know that you two got into a fight at the concert. You better not be planning something stupid.”

Gyro cursed silently. He was planning something stupid, rationally speaking, but it was for a good reason. “It’s not like that, HP. I’m just trying to look out for Johnny.”

HP paused for a long moment. Then, finally, she said: “Cut the shit, Zeppeli.”

Gyro stared at his phone for a moment, half-believing that there was some sort of malfunction. He put it back to his ear. “Excuse me?”

“I know you’re just trying to find out where Johnny is.”

Shit. How did she know? Maybe Lucy had told her exactly the reason that Johnny left. In that case, Gyro couldn’t blame HP for being suspicious. He kind of sounded like a crazy stalker. If she knew the real reason that Gyro was looking for Johnny, she’d think differently. Too bad Gyro couldn’t tell her.

“I— I—“ he stammered.

“I can help you,” HP said. “You just have to ask.”

Gyro stopped completely. “What?”

“I said I can help,” HP said. “Johnny’s not in the best situation, is he?”

Gyro gulped. “That’s putting it lightly.”

“You think he’s in trouble?”

I know he is. “I got a call from him. I’m… concerned, to say the least.”

“No, that’s perfect,” HP said. “I have a program on my computer. If you hook your phone up to it, I can trace the call for you. If you want.”

“What the— you have a program like that?” Gyro said in disbelief. “What for?”

“That’s none of your concern,” HP said. “So, are we doing this or what?”

“Uh— yeah!” Even if it was strange… HP was a strange person. And Gyro was desperate for information, so what was he gonna do, say no? “Where are you? Or— I can tell you where I live.”

“No need,” HP said. “You know where the nature preserve is?”

“Yeah.” He recalled Johnny pointing it out to him. He’d even been there a few days looking for Johnny, but there was no sign of him.

“Meet me there in an hour.”

“An hour?” Gyro looked at his watch. It was getting pretty early. He was expecting HP to at least call him back tomorrow, but apparently she thought it was more pressing than that. Not that Gyro minded— he wanted to find Johnny as soon as possible, too. “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Deadly,” HP said in a completely neutral voice. “Be there on time, Gyro. Johnny’s counting on you.”

With that, she hung up. Gyro took a deep breath and nodded to himself before getting up to get dressed. He’d done enough waiting— now it was time to act.

---

Johnny’s heart was pounding as Diego plucked the phone out of his hands. He gave it a disdainful look and then crushed it in his fist, destroying it completely.

“That was stupid of you, Joestar,” he said.

Johnny snarled at him, showing his teeth. He knew it wouldn’t do much to intimidate another vampire, but it was all he had: his hands were bound, and his legs weren't going to be of much help. Diego knew it just as well as him.

The other vampire cocked his head at Johnny as if curious.

“What did you say to him?” he asked. “Did you beg him to come rescue you?”

Of course not, Johnny thought. The last thing he wanted was for Gyro to come here— wherever “here” was.

It would be useless, anyway, even if Gyro knew what he was up against. Johnny was done for either way. His stomach felt like it was clawing up his spine. If Diego didn’t kill him, the hunger would.

In all honesty, he had called Gyro because… because he wanted to hear his voice one last time. And he wanted to apologize, for all the shit that he’d put him through. It’d all be over soon.

But he wasn’t going to tell Diego that. Not on his fucking life.

Johnny spat at him, instead, but Diego was too far away for it to hit him. The corner of Diego’s mouth twitched in amusement.

The door to the small room opened. Diego’s partner stepped over the threshold. So far, Johnny hadn’t seen their face clearly, since they wore a mask over their mouth and dark sunglasses despite the late hour. The only thing he could say about them definitively was that they were human, judging from their scent.

“There you are,” Diego said, straightening up. He held up the crushed remains of Johnny’s phone. “You forgot to confiscate a little something.”

“I didn’t forget,” the person said. “He did exactly what he was supposed to do." 

Johnny’s eyes widened. It was the first time he’d heard them speak. That voice… could it be who he thought it was?

In that case… Johnny may have made a terrible, terrible mistake.

Diego raised his brows, then gave Johnny one last condescending smirk.

“Well, what do you know," he said. "Be careful what you wish for." 

Notes:

UH OH. 😮who's in more trouble, Johnny or Gyro? tune in next time for more answers~
no notes for this chapter, so just a reminder/plug: I have a Twitter where you can see chapter previews the day before, get notified of updates, and in general connect with me! I'm also on Tumblr (albeit less actively lately oop) and CuriousCat if you ever want to ask me questions about past, ongoing, or future projects!

Chapter 11: we've got a score to settle

Summary:

Gyro launches his rescue. Things don't go exactly to plan.

Notes:

Before we get started, I want to thank the many people who have thus far made art for this fic!! Some of the most recent are: vampire!Johnny and Gyro by Heath, a ~seductive~ vamp Johnny by ViscountAlucard, some Johnnies by Atlas, and more Johnnies by Lovi (feat. myth AU Johnny and canon Johnny)! Seeing all this art has made my heart so full of joy, I can't even describe it properly. Thank you all so much for your contributions to this AU!! <3
Now onto the chapter... Today's title is another song by The Dear Hunter.
Major CW: nonconsensual drug use, kidnapping, light torture.

Gravel flew as Ballbreaker screeched into the lot. Gyro stomped on the brakes and threw a glance over his shoulder, just to be sure that he was in the right place. Yep— he remembered that sign. This was the nature preserve that Johnny talked about. It was the place where he was supposed to meet HP.

Sure enough, a compact black car was already waiting there for him. Gyro was pretty sure he recognized it from the hospital parking lot. He parked a few spaces down from them and waited, just to be sure. When the door opened to reveal a distinctive head of pink hair, Gyro relaxed and cut the engine.

He got out of the car and came around to the other side. “Hey. I’m not late, am I?”

“No,” HP said. “You’re right on time.”

She was dressed all in black, which wasn’t particularly surprising given her usual fashion taste, but Gyro did note a pair of black sunglasses on her head. That was strange, considering it was the middle of the night.

Gyro rocked back and forth on his heels, looking around. “So… this is kinda a weird place to meet, isn’t it?”

“It’s out of the way,” HP said, as if that explained anything. “Do you want to see Johnny again or not?”

Gyro stopped and straightened up. “Yeah. Of course I do.”

“Then get in,” HP said bluntly, gesturing to the car.

“Right.”

Gyro went around to the passenger side door and got in. The windows were tinted. That was also a little weird… HP rode around like a secret service agent or something.

“Nice ride,” he commented, feeling a bit awkward as HP got in the car alongside him.

It occurred to him that he really didn’t know HP all that well. He didn’t know why she was offering to do this for him. Sometimes he even got the feeling that she didn’t really like him all that much.

But then again, she didn’t seem to like anyone that much. How she became friends with Diego Brando, of all people, was beyond him…

HP wasn’t saying anything. She didn’t even start the car or buckle her seatbelt or anything. Gyro frowned and looked in her direction, just as she surged forward and shoved a needle into his neck. She pushed the plunger down before Gyro could even process what had happened.

“The fuck—? HP!” Gyro yelled.

One hand flew to the needle to yank it out while the other fumbled for the car door. He managed to open the door and tried to jump out, but his legs didn’t cooperate. He ended up spilling out of the car like a drunk, landing on his shoulder in the gravel.

He tried to get up, but the paralysis quickly creeped up into his arms. His breathing became choked and stuttering, and he couldn’t speak or cry for help. What did she do? What’s happening to me?

Gyro heard the driver’s side door open, then the slow crunch of HP’s boots. By the time she made her way over to him, Gyro couldn’t even turn his head to look at her. He could only stare at her military-style black boots in horror. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

“Sorry about this, Gyro,” HP said, ever calm. “You’ll thank me when it’s over.”

She put a sweet-smelling rag over his face. Gyro tried to fight it, but his body was no longer under his control. He had no choice but to breathe in and pass out.

---

Gyro came to in a dark room somewhere, his mouth tasting like cotton. He was dizzy from his whole ordeal and fought with all his might not to vomit or pass out again. What the hell happened…?

Still groggy, he tried to put a hand to his head, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because his wrists were bound behind his back.

Gyro’s eyes widened as the recent events started flooding back to him. Johnny calling him— heading to the nature preserve— Hot Pants drugging him—

He tried to yell but as it turned out, the cotton feel in his mouth was due to the fact that he was gagged by a literal cotton rag. He tried his damnedest to spit it out, but it was tied tight. As he wriggled around in panic, he realized that he was sitting against a wooden post with his hands tied with rope behind it.

Holy fuck— now I’ve been kidnapped, too! He pulled hard against the restraints, but whoever had tied them had done so almost brutally tight. The more he struggled, the more the rough rope fiber bit into his skin.

The person who had tied them… it had to be HP, right? She had been the one to knock him out. But even knowing that, Gyro didn’t understand in the slightest. Why was she doing this? And why him? What had he ever done to her? He had asked her for help, only to receive this instead…

Calm down, he told himself. He could feel angry and betrayed later. Right now, he had to figure out what was happening.

He stopped thrashing to take in his surroundings. It was all dark at first, but slowly his eyes adjusted and he could begin to see where he was. It seemed to be a cabin of some sort, in a small room with one door and one window. The window was painted over with a thick layer of black paint so no light could get in. Gyro couldn’t tell what time of day it was, so there was no telling how long he’d been unconscious. Nor could he get any idea of where he was, geographically speaking.

Not good, he thought. HP could’ve taken him just about anywhere. He had no doubt that she had opted for somewhere secluded. Somewhere where even if he was able to spit out the gag, it would do him no good to yell for help.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps rapidly approaching the door. Not just one set, but two. There were voices, too.

Gyro dropped his head and went limp, feigning unconsciousness, just before the door opened. A light switch was flicked, turning on the singular aging bulb in the room and filling the space with yellowy light.

“—when he wakes up,” one of the voices said. It undeniably belonged to HP.

“And then what?” the other voice asked dryly.

“Simple. We’ll ask him what he knows.”

What I know? Gyro thought incredulously. About what?

The other person clicked their tongue. “Well, you won’t have to wait long. I can tell from his heartbeat that he’s already awake.”

Gyro bit the inside of his cheek. Just in case they were bluffing, he didn’t move. That was, until someone grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head up. Gyro’s gaze was met by blue eyes with slitted pupils and a fanged smirk.

“MMF!” Gyro started kicking wildly, trying to do as much damage as possible from his position. Faster than his eyes could see, a fist flew into his gut and winded him. Gyro wheezed, his flailing becoming weaker.

“He really is a fighter,” his assailant said in a cocky British drawl.

Crouching before him was Diego Brando, the vampire that Johnny had warned him about. Gyro’s memories of meeting him the first time were hazy, but he recognized those strange eyes, the unkempt blonde hair, and above all, the teeth.

Seeing him made Gyro’s stomach drop out through the floor. This can’t be happening— this isn’t how this is supposed to happen! He couldn’t become a meal for this prick— and through his own lack of vigilance, no less!

“Don’t harm him,” HP said.

She was standing a short distance behind Diego, carrying a large jug of some sort of liquid. She looked just like Gyro remembered seeing her in the parking lot, dressed in all black, except now she had her sunglasses over her eyes and a large golden crucifix hanging around her neck. Gyro could see something on her back, but he couldn’t tell what it was.

Gyro glowered at her. He could only hope that she was looking at him and could feel the fury in his gaze. I trusted you, he wanted to yell at her. I trusted you and now you’re giving me to the bastard who took Johnny!

He had no idea why she was in league with Diego Brando, but it didn’t really matter. She had betrayed him either way. Now, asking Diego not to hurt him just struck Gyro as an insult.

Diego let go of Gyro’s hair and took a few steps back. He cocked his head as if appraising him. Gyro’s skin crawled under his unnatural gaze; Diego hardly blinked, if ever.

“No bites,” he said eventually. “If he’s been fed on, it hasn’t been within the last month.”

“Hm.” HP put her back to Gyro as she put down the jug, so Gyro could finally see what she had on her back: a crossbow.

What the hell? Why would a hospital chaplain have a crossbow? Unless… HP wasn’t really a chaplain at all.

“Stand back,” HP told Diego. “Unless you want to get splashed.”

Diego retreated to the back corner of the room, pursing his lips. Gyro’s gaze flicked between him and HP uncertainly. Stand back for what? He had a bad feeling he was about to find out as HP approached him. She had a cup of clear liquid in one gloved hand.

What is that? Gyro thought, beginning to worry. Why did she tell Diego to stand back? It wasn’t like, acid or something, was it? HP had already proven able to get her hands on all sorts of illicit substances. Surely if he was just here to become vampire food, they wouldn’t torture him… unless pain made the blood taste better or something twisted like that.

He shied away from HP as much as he could, biting hard into his gag. HP looked unmoved by his struggling.

“Time to wake up,” she said.

She splashed the contents of the glass fully in Gyro’s face.

Gyro jolted instinctively, but there was no pain. Just the shock and irritation of having water splashed in your face. Wait— water? Just water?

Before Gyro could reason why the hell he was being waterboarded, HP put down the glass and quickly undid the gag around Gyro’s mouth. More droplets rolled between his lips, and he tasted them. Sure enough, it was plain old water.

More importantly, Gyro could speak now. “What the fuck is wrong with you, HP? Why are you doing this? And where’s Johnny?”

The thought of Johnny made Gyro’s blood boil anew. Being all wet for no goddamn reason also contributed to his rage in a major way.

“If you hurt him, I’m gonna kill you,” he snarled, spitting water out of his mouth. “You and Diego both— you’re both fucking dead!”

HP sat back on her heels, frowning. “What, that wasn’t enough?”

“The hell are you talking about?”

HP didn’t answer; she simply got up and retrieved the jug again, bringing it closer to where Gyro was sitting. As she set it down next to him, Gyro could now see that there was a single symbol drawn on it in plain black marker: a cross.

“Hold on,” Gyro said, eyeing the symbol. “Is that… holy water?”

Holy water… a crossbow… a crucifix… HP was— but no— she couldn’t be. Could she? Did such a thing even exist...?

He couldn’t come to a sensible conclusion before HP poured another full glass and dumped it on his head again. Gyro growled in anger, shaking his head vigorously in an attempt to dry himself. Diego shied away from the droplets that he scattered.

“Cut that shit out!” Gyro barked. “I’m not a fucking vampire!”

HP’s suspicious expression didn’t go away. She turned to Diego.

“The thrall’s not breaking," she said flatly. 

“Thrall?” Gyro repeated. “What does that mean?”

Diego shrugged, ignoring him. “Keep doing it, I guess.” He leaned against the wall, folding his arms with a smirk. “At the very least, it’s fun to watch.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Gyro said.

“Something’s wrong,” HP declared.

She turned back to Gyro and pushed her shades up. Her brows were knit tightly, her dark eyes narrowed. If Gyro hadn’t known better, he’d say she looked… concerned, almost.

But— about what? About Gyro? If that was so, then why the hell was she doing this?

“Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” Gyro asked in a low voice. “Is Diego forcing you to do this? We can take him on together if you let me go.”

“Don’t make me gag you again,” HP said.

She grabbed Gyro by the chin and made him turn his head one way, then the other. Her eyes only squinted further in apparent confusion.

“I told you, he hasn’t been bitten,” Diego said. “If he had an open wound anywhere on his body, I’d smell it.”

“There’s no other way the thrall would be this strong,” HP muttered. “To enforce his control over this much time and distance— it’s like he bit him yesterday.”

“Are— are you talking about Johnny?” Gyro asked incredulously. “Johnny’s never bitten me.”

Thrall… control… He was starting to piece together in his mind what they were talking about.

“And I’m not charmed or anything like that, either," he said. "Johnny never-- well, he did it to me once, but after that we agreed that it wouldn't happen again." 

HP stared at him for a moment. Then she shook her head and raised the gag again.

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Gyro,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Her voice sounded genuinely sad. Gyro quickly turned his head away to prevent her from retying the gag. She tried to force it into his mouth anyway, but Gyro kept writhing and shaking his head to keep her hands as far away from him as possible.

“You already splashed me twice, isn’t that proof enough?” he asked desperately. “I haven’t even seen Johnny for weeks! You have to believe me— I have full control over my actions, Hot Pants!”

He jerked his head in Diego’s direction. “He’s the one that you need to watch out for! Johnny only drinks donated blood— I’ve helped him get it! But Diego— he kills people!”

Diego straightened up in indignation. “What is this slander?”

HP pulled back, fixing Gyro with a razor-sharp stare. “What did you say?”

“Johnny told me all about him,” Gyro said. “He said he was dangerous!”

Diego bared his teeth. “He’s right about that.”

“No, the other thing,” HP said, waving Diego back. “About you and Johnny. The donated blood thing.”

Gyro took a deep breath. This wasn’t easy to admit, especially to someone who also worked at the hospital, but it was the truth.

“Johnny and I are the ones who have been stealing from the hospital’s blood bank,” he said. “He was doing it on his own at first, but I stepped in to help him.”

HP rebutted immediately, as if she was expecting this answer: “The blood theft at the hospital stopped weeks ago.”

“It only looks that way,” Gyro explained. “We came up with a strategy— I fudged some numbers, and Johnny started rationing smarter. He can get what he needs to survive without hurting anybody.”

HP pressed her lips together until they were flat. She put down her shades and stood up, swiftly turning to Diego.

“You said you had proof he was feeding on humans,” she snapped. 

Diego shrugged, apparently unperturbed by her accusing tone. “I said I saw him getting friendly with a tipsy human in a dark alley. You’re the one who took it for proof.”

HP’s fist clenched. “I can’t believe—“

She stopped herself and sighed. Then, she turned back to Gyro.

“You’re not in Johnny’s thrall,” she said. “So why are you helping him?”

Gyro pulled back warily. “I dunno. Why are you helping Diego?”

“I’m not helping Diego. He’s helping me.”

“Absolutely not,” Diego interjected.

HP ignored him. She pulled her crossbow from off her back. Gyro gulped, but she didn’t point it at anyone. She simply held it out, like she wanted him to see something. Gyro peered at the weapon. He realized that it didn’t have a standard bolt loaded in it, but instead a wooden spike.

“I kill vampires,” HP said. “Specifically, vampires who kill humans. This weapon has been blessed by a Vatican priest to carry out my holy mission.”

Gyro curled his lip. He’d been to Rome many a time. You could find shit “blessed by a Vatican priest” on every street corner. So HP’s claim didn’t impress him much. Plus, Diego was standing literally right there. If her mission was killing vampires, she was pretty shit at it. 

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re working with an actual killer vampire,” he said.

“I told you, I am not a human killer!” Diego snapped, eyes flashing. “And unless you want me to become one, I suggest you stop spewing such lies.”

“Diego defected from his brother’s coven,” HP said matter-of-factly as she put the crossbow back on her back. “He’s working with us now."

“Dio’s my half brother.” Diego huffed, leaning back against the wall again. “We have the same bastard for a father, that’s all.”

“How am I supposed to believe any of this?” Gyro asked, looking between them. “Who’s to say that you’re not under Diego’s thrall?”

HP put a finger on the side of her sunglasses. “I take precautions. Polarized lenses deflect the power of the thrall. And I couldn’t handle holy water if I was under it, either.”

She jerked her thumb towards Diego. “As much of a bastard as Diego is, he’s not a human killer. I’ve interviewed all of his, ahem, food sources. They all consented. Therefore, I have no justification to kill him.”

“Not to mention that I’m your only real lead on Dio,” Diego muttered.

“Okay, but… what the hell does any of this have to do with Johnny and I?” Gyro asked. “Johnny doesn’t kill humans either. He eats donated blood— I’m a hundred percent sure, I’ve seen him do it.”

How long have they been planning this? Gyro wondered. It must’ve started when Diego saw him and Johnny in the alley at the concert and mistook Gyro for Johnny’s prey… then, when the blood theft “stopped” at the hospital— did HP assume that Johnny had moved onto humans? 

Christ… this whole time, HP and Diego had been watching them and they had no clue. They thought they were so clever, and yet their actions had attracted much worse attention than they ever could’ve imagined. Gyro didn’t even know vampire hunters were a thing.

HP’s face remained impassive through his explanations. “If that’s the case, why did Johnny attempt to leave town all of a sudden? That’s typical behavior for a human killer.”

She thought he was fleeing, Gyro realized. Little did she know, Johnny’s flight had nothing to do with his feeding.

“We… kinda got into a fight, I guess,” Gyro said. “It was... unrelated."

HP opened her mouth like she was going to interrogate that further, but before she could say anything Diego pushed off the wall and stalked towards Gyro. 

“My turn to ask questions," he declared.

He crouched in front of Gyro, his slitted eyes raking over him. Gyro shuddered— no matter what he said about not being a human killer, he certainly had a way of making Gyro feel like a piece of meat.

“You’ve been in contact with Dio, haven’t you?” he asked in a low voice. "If you don't want to sustain serious injuries, you'd do well to tell me where he is." 

Gyro set his jaw, determined to not be intimidated. “No. I haven't been in contact with him. Neither of us have."

Diego bared his teeth. “Johnny couldn’t control a territory this size without his help.”

“Is nobody fucking listening to me?!” Gyro said in exasperation. “Johnny doesn’t have territory. He doesn’t hunt. If he pretends to, it’s only to keep you from tearing the city apart!”

Diego sat back on his heels with a disgruntled expression. Gyro cast a pleading glance to HP.

“You have to understand,” he said. “Johnny’s presence in this city is nothing but a good thing. And he hates Dio— he could be helping you, if you didn’t fucking kidnap him first!”

Gyro looked around, trying to see through the half-open door. “Where the hell are you keeping him, anyway?”

HP stepped in to block his view. “Somewhere secure. That’s all you need to know.”

“Like hell it is!” Gyro snapped. “I know you have Johnny. I’m not leaving here until I get him back.”

He stared right at her to show he was deadly serious. HP’s mouth pinched.

“You never answered my question,” she said. “Why are you helping Johnny?”

Neither Gyro’s gaze nor his voice faltered as he answered. “I love him.”

That declaration hung in the air for a moment. HP and Diego stared at him in what must’ve been disbelief. Gyro felt something like victorious— until Diego burst into laughter.

Both Gyro and HP turned to look at him as he bent over double. Gyro clenched his fists behind the post. Diego’s laugh was grating enough, and in this situation it made Gyro want to punch a wall. Preferably with Diego standing in front of it.

“What’s so funny?” he asked sharply.

Diego wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, nothing. Just— the level of delusion we’re seeing here is unparalleled. One can’t help but laugh.”

He snorted again, like he really couldn’t control himself. “Johnny didn’t even need to put you in thrall. You went ahead and did the work for him!”

“It’s not a delusion!” Gyro said, bristling.

“He ditched you,” Diego said, mirth mixing with malice in his voice. “Once you stopped being easy for him to leech off of, he decided to take his little show on the road. Do you know where we found him?”

He smiled wide, showing off his fangs. “At a Greyhound station. With a one way ticket to anywhere but here.”

Gyro flinched as if struck. He looked to HP, waiting for her to deny it, but she turned her head away and folded her arms. Gyro clenched his jaw and lowered his gaze to the floor.

It’s okay if he wanted to walk away, he thought. I told him he could. But it still stung to know that Johnny was really planning on just… going. Leaving, without so much as a word as to where he might end up.

And yet— Johnny had had one phone call. One chance to contact anybody in his darkest hour. The person he’d chosen to call was Gyro.

Even if Johnny didn’t feel the same way about him… even if he was going to walk away as soon as it was all over… hell, even if Johnny didn’t want Gyro to come rescue him— Gyro was here anyway. He’d come this far. He sure as hell wasn’t going to turn his back on his friend now.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” he said. “I still want to see him safe."

Diego snorted and shook his head. HP gave him what Gyro could only guess would’ve been a piercing glare if not for her sunglasses. Seemed like they were for everyone else’s protection just as much as her own. Then, she sighed.

“I know that you’re a good person, Gyro," she said. "That’s why I don’t want to see you get hurt. I’m afraid that if I let Johnny leave with you, that is exactly what will happen.”

Gyro bit his lip. “HP…”

As much as Gyro wanted to simply be furious with her, it was obvious that this whole situation was way too complicated for that. It was a mess unintentionally created by people with the best intentions (except Diego, maybe)… Gyro definitely understood that expression about the road to hell.

But despite everything, Gyro still had faith that things would work out. They might not get out unscathed, but they’d get out somehow. This was just a detour.

“All I can say is that Johnny hasn’t hurt me thus far, even when he had plenty of opportunity,” he said. “If you let him go, I take full responsibility for whatever happens.”

He forced himself to smile. “You can tell that to the Pope himself.”

HP exhaled hard in something resembling a laugh. She flexed her jaw, seeming thoughtful. Gyro didn’t say anything. Diego just looked on with a bored expression, unblinking. 

“All right,” she said finally.

A wave of relief washed over Gyro, and he relaxed muscles that he didn’t even know he was tensing. HP went around behind him and started to untie his hands.

“Thank you,” Gyro said. “For both of us.”

“I wouldn’t put words in Johnny’s mouth if I were you,” HP said, somewhat darkly. She looked up at Diego and jerked her head towards the door as she worked. “Sedate him.”

Diego rolled his eyes, but left the room anyway. Gyro’s brows shot up as he realized she was talking about Johnny.

“Hold on— sedate him?” he said. “Why does he need to be sedated?”

“Johnny may not hurt you, but that doesn’t mean he won’t hurt Diego or I when we let him go,” HP said.

As much as he wanted to, Gyro couldn’t argue with that. If he were in Johnny’s position, he couldn’t promise not to lash out at his captors either. From Johnny’s perspective they probably deserved it, but Gyro was just focusing on getting him freed at this point.

“HP… Did you hurt him at all?” Gyro asked. “While you were holding him here?”

He felt HP’s hands hesitate, so he added: “I’m not interested in getting revenge. I just want to know so I can treat any injuries he might have.”

HP was quiet for a moment as she finished untying Gyro’s hands. The knot had been tied pretty tight. Gyro wondered if she’d tied it herself.

“He and Diego fought briefly at the bus station,” she said eventually. “They both sustained minor injuries."

She came around front again and handed Gyro something black. Turning it over in his hands, Gyro realized it was a hood.

“Put it on,” HP said. “It’s best if you don’t know where this place is.”

Gyro rubbed his thumb over the coarse fabric. This was certainly shaping up to be the most bizarre night of his life. Trusting the person who kidnapped him not long ago was no less insane. He looked up at her.

“I’m trusting you to do the right thing, Hot Pants,” he said.

HP took off her sunglasses and looked Gyro in the eyes. Gyro didn’t know what “honest” eyes looked like, but if he had to say, HP’s came close.

“I will, Gyro,” she said.

Gyro nodded once. He put the bag over his head.

Notes:

what do you mean it was all just a big misunderstanding?!?! I want my money back!!! /s
notes:
> the substance that HP used to subdue Gyro is a compound derived from vampire saliva, which has paralytic properties.
> Diego does NOT get along with Dio-- mostly because they both want to be in charge and butt heads over it, but also because over the years Dio's callous cruelty has begun to remind Diego more and more of their father.
> HP and Diego are indeed something like friends despite their bickering. They met when HP hunted Diego down, of course. Diego was able to persuade her that he could help her fry an even bigger fish. (and dinopants is real they just haven't gotten that far along yet)
thanks for reading!!

Chapter 12: drawn to the blood

Summary:

Gyro takes Johnny home. But all is not well just yet.

Notes:

before we continue our wild ride, today I wanna shoutout Mika for adding her vamp!Johnny to the pile: check him out here! Also Ann/Marshroomaru drew Gyro from chapter 3, which you can see by clicking here! Please go give all the fanartists a ton of love, it's what they deserve!
Today's chapter soundtrack/title source is "Drawn to the Blood" by Sufjan Stevens! Did you think we were gonna get through this without a Sufjan song??? who do you think i am
content warning: mild blood drinking.

HP led Gyro by the elbow to her car. He tried to keep track of where he was walking, just in case: out of the room he was kept in, through another room, then outside into the cool night air. Gravel crunched under his feet as he counted the steps to HP’s car.

He heard a car door open. “Watch your head,” HP said.

She lightly pushed him into her car. It felt like the same small car from before, which Gyro presumed belonged to HP. He immediately felt around for Johnny, but he was alone in the car at the moment.

“Diego’s bringing him out,” HP said. “I’m gonna shut the door.”

“Okay.”

Gyro tried to settle down, but his heart was starting to pound again. He had this dark, heavy feeling in his stomach that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he tried to convince himself that the worst was over. It didn’t feel over.

A few minutes passed before the trunk opened. What, are they just gonna put Johnny back there? Gyro was about to complain before he heard a metallic rattle. Apparently they’d held onto Johnny’s wheelchair after snatching him off the street. How courteous.

Then, the other door opened. Gyro immediately perked up. He tried to squint through the black hood, but all he could see were indistinct shapes. It didn’t help that it was dark outside.

“Stay where you are,” HP instructed from outside the car. Then, presumably to Diego: “Put him in.”

Gyro heard a grunt of affirmation from Diego, and then the sound of a body shifting over leather. Something touched Gyro’s leg; Gyro grabbed onto it and realized it was an ankle. Johnny’s ankle, surely.

He subtly put two fingers where he knew Johnny’s posterior tibial artery was. Like the first time he took Johnny’s pulse, it took a few seconds before he could feel the gentle throb of life (or something like it).

Gyro inhaled sharply once he felt it. He had to beat back the urge to gather Johnny up in his arms and hold him tight. I’m so glad you’re okay. As he sat there with the bag over his head he thought about how he hadn't seen Johnny with his own two eyes for weeks. 

“HP,” he said in a strained voice. “Do I have to keep my hood on the whole time…?”

“Yes,” HP said bluntly.

The car door closed again. Gyro swallowed thickly. He wanted to know for sure that Johnny was alive and whole, but he couldn’t risk doing something that might make HP change her mind about letting them go. He had put a lot of faith in HP, but not all of it. 

“Johnny,” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”

Johnny gave no response. Gyro squeezed his ankle, then remembered that he wouldn’t be able to feel it even if he had been conscious. He bit his lip hard.

The driver’s side door opened and someone got in. Gyro had to guess it was HP. She started the car.

"Buckle up," she said.

Gyro had to roll his eyes. Safety first, huh? He did what she asked, though.

“What about Johnny?” he asked.

“He’s a vampire, he’ll be fine.”

Gyro sat back, but still dug his nails into the seat under him. This ride couldn’t be over fast enough.

HP started driving away from the hideout. Gyro had no idea where it was, but he tried to make a mental map of the routes she took anyway. He quickly became sure that she was purposefully taking a convoluted route, probably having anticipated his idea.

They drove for roughly forty-five minutes, by Gyro’s estimate. It was an excruciatingly silent drive. Johnny didn’t stir the whole way. He couldn’t lie— that fact made him nervous. HP was a chaplain, not a nurse, and Johnny was a pretty small guy; what if she accidentally overdosed him? Could that even happen to a vampire?

“What did you sedate him with?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” HP said.

“…Did you take it from the hospital?”

HP snorted. “If you’re justified in stealing blood, I’m justified in stealing small amounts of sedative from time to time.”

Gyro couldn’t argue with that. “When do you think he’ll wake up?”

“Soon,” HP said. “By the way— you can’t see it, but he’s handcuffed right now. I recommend that you don’t free him until after he’s awake and alert. Otherwise he might lash out at you before he realizes what’s up.”

“…noted.”

He heard the crunch of gravel as HP pulled into the nature preserve parking lot. Gyro ripped off his hood before HP said he could, but he didn’t care anymore. He’d waited long enough.

Johnny was lying curled up on the seat beside him, eyes closed as if he’d just decided to take a nap during a long road trip. The only thing ruining that illusion were the metal cuffs holding his wrists together in front of him. His skin looked pale and wan, but Gyro couldn’t tell if it was an effect of the scant light or an indication of his condition. He had a small bandage on his forehead, like that was where he’d gotten hurt when he and Diego fought.

Seeing Johnny like this felt wrong. Gyro’s heart clenched and he felt some anger at HP and Diego rise up again. How they ever could’ve mistaken Johnny for some sort of bloodthirsty predator was beyond him.

Gyro opened his own door while HP opened Johnny’s side. She’d parked right next to Gyro’s car for ease of access. As Gyro shut the door behind him, HP held up the keys to Ballbreaker.

“You’re gonna need these,” she said.

Thanks for stealing them, Gyro wanted to say. But making sarcastic jokes probably wasn’t the best course of action— especially considering that when he came around to take them from her, he saw HP cautiously put a hand on her crossbow.

Gyro unlocked his car while HP opened the trunk of hers so that they could move Johnny’s chair. That done, he opened the passenger side door. Gyro gathered Johnny up and moved him from one car to the other. He was light and limp in Gyro’s arms. Gyro set him in the passenger seat and buckled him in. Just in case.

If HP had any comment on that, she didn’t voice it. She just handed Gyro another key, this one small and silver.

“For the handcuffs,” she said. “Remember what I told you— wait until he wakes up and gets his bearings to let him go.”

“Right,” Gyro said. He took the key and pocketed it.

They stood there for a moment, both looking at one another but neither speaking. Gyro wasn’t sure if he should thank HP, or demand an apology, or what. He wasn’t sure what HP was thinking, either. Those sunglasses really threw him off in reading her already-inexpressive face.

In the end, he just gave her an awkward half-wave with two fingers. “…see you at work, then?”

HP opened her mouth, but then shut it and shook her head. “See you at work, Gyro.”

She got into her car and started it. Gyro did the same. He watched out of his rearview mirror as her car pulled back, then peeled out of the lot with a spray of gravel. Then he shut his eyes and sighed.

“All right, Johnny,” he said. “Let’s go home.”

---

Johnny hadn’t stirred by the time they arrived back at Gyro’s apartment. Whatever HP had given him had really knocked him out, by the looks of it.

Speaking of looks… Gyro glanced around the parking lot warily. There was nobody around, but he couldn’t help but feel extremely uncomfortable with how this situation might look to a bystander: Johnny, handcuffed, battered, and unconscious; Gyro, taking him up to his apartment...

Fuck it, he thought. He couldn’t do anything about Johnny being passed out right now, but he could do something about the handcuffs. At least without those, it wouldn’t look like Johnny was his captive or some shit.

Gyro fished out the key that HP gave him and unlocked the cuffs. After removing them from Johnny’s wrists, he stuffed them under the passenger seat. He’d have to find a way to sneak them back to HP at work, but he was sure he could figure something out.

That done, he steeled himself and got out of the car. The lot was still empty. Gyro opened the passenger side and unbuckled Johnny’s seatbelt, then carefully picked him up.

Again, he noted how light Johnny felt in his arms. He seemed much lighter than a man his size should be. Did he usually weigh this little? He’d never picked Johnny up like this before so he didn’t know.

Gyro told himself he was just overthinking it and went inside. If anyone asked, he planned to tell them that Johnny was his friend who'd had too much to drink or something like that. He decided to come back for Johnny’s chair later.

Upon entering his apartment, Gyro was met with an unwelcome sight: light. His windows were almost all eastward-facing and the sun was starting to rise. This chaotic night was almost over, but morning would bring a host of new problems.

This was the first thing that made Johnny stir. His brows furrowed and he shied away from the light as best as possible with a soft groan.

“Shit…” Gyro tried his best to shield Johnny, but the light was diffuse and difficult to avoid. He’d have to pull the shades to improve the situation.

For now, though, he couldn’t let Johnny get burned. The only room in his apartment that didn’t have windows was the bathroom, so he went in there and shut the door. Once inside, he turned on the overhead light and put Johnny down in the bathtub. It was the only place there was room to really lay him down.

“Sorry about this,” he said.

Gyro lingered for a second, brushing some hair away from Johnny’s face. Now that he was in full light, Gyro noticed how pale Johnny’s skin had become. Gyro could see the veins under his skin— they were almost black. There were dark bags under his eyes, too, and his cheeks were sunken.

This… this isn’t right, Gyro thought. The only times he’d seen Johnny like this were months ago, when he was still periodically starving for lack of blood. He’d get pale and lean and look ill, but it was always mild. Right now, Johnny looked much worse than that.

When was the last time Johnny ate? He’d left right after drinking some, but it’d been a while since then and he’d left his whole supply in Gyro’s fridge. Gyro doubted that HP and Diego had given him anything… well, at least Gyro had held onto that last bag. Maybe Johnny would be interested in it when he woke up.

The bandage on Johnny’s forehead reminded him, too: HP said that Johnny had sustained some “scratches” in the fight with Diego. Gyro had a feeling that they hadn’t bothered to properly treat his wounds any more than they gave him sustenance. Luckily, he had some supplies in his bathroom.

He grabbed some disinfectant and a fresh bandage from his closet. Peeling back the bandage from Johnny’s head, Gyro saw that there was indeed a small gash on his forehead. The blood caked around it— at least, Gyro assumed it was blood— was so dark it was almost black. That must’ve been what vampire blood looked like.

Gyro worked efficiently, cleaning the wound and putting a fresh dressing on. Johnny stirred a little as he washed away the old blood, probably because of the sting from the disinfectant. Gyro decided that if Johnny had any other wounds, they could wait until after he moved Johnny somewhere else. He didn’t want Johnny waking up all disoriented in his bathtub.

Gyro left Johnny for a minute in order to vampire-proof his house and grab the blood bag. As he pulled down the blackout shades for the first time in weeks, he found himself smiling. He didn’t think he’d ever have to do this again and it… it felt good. They weren't out of the woods yet, but they were close. 

He did a loop around the house, checking to make sure that the blinds were secure, before heading to the kitchen. The last remaining blood bag had gotten shoved way back into his fridge, mostly hidden but definitely not forgotten. Gyro was sure that it was too old to be used for a transfusion now, but it had to still be good for Johnny.

Gyro took out the bag and headed back to the bathroom. He was still smiling a little as he opened the door.

“Hey, Johnny,” he said. “I got something that I think—“

What came next happened so fast that Gyro didn’t even have time to register it. There was a crash, a blur of blue, and suddenly Gyro found himself on the floor. His shower curtain and the rod holding it up had been torn down, and there was a weight on his chest.

It was Johnny— except, he looked very different.

With his eyes open wide, Johnny looked even more gaunt than before. His pupils were slits, almost invisible, and black veins were visible in his sclera. His lip was curled, revealing his razor-sharp fangs. They looked longer and sharper than Gyro remembered. A deep snarl rose from his throat.

At that moment, Johnny looked less like himself and more like the creature of the night that he was fabled to be. But the worst part wasn’t that Gyro could hardly recognize Johnny— it was that it seemed like Johnny could hardly recognize Gyro.

“J-Johnny?” Gyro said tentatively. “It— it’s me, Gyro…”

Johnny said nothing. The low growl continued. He lowered his head slightly and inhaled— sniffing Gyro, like a dog. Gyro gulped.

Is this why HP told me not to uncuff him? he thought. Am I… am I gonna die like this? All he had wanted was to save Johnny’s life… and in doing so, he might’ve sacrificed his own.

Johnny leaned back. He still had that look in his eyes, like he was functioning on pure instinct. His gaze was glued to Gyro’s neck. Gyro shut his eyes; he couldn’t stand to see Johnny like this.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered. “You know me.”

Johnny said nothing. Gyro’s heart was pounding so loud he imagined Johnny could hear it. He could probably hear all that blood pumping under his skin, just waiting to be sucked up. He could certainly smell it. Gyro imagined that right now, all he looked like to Johnny was just a large, warm bag of blood— wait. A bag of blood...

Johnny leaned in again. Gyro felt his breath coast over his neck and shivered. Johnny opened his mouth and—

Finally, Gyro was able to work off the plug holding the blood bag closed. He cringed as he felt liquid on his fingers: a stranger’s blood, chilled from its time in the fridge. He was used to handling blood, but it wasn't usually cold like that.

Johnny made another guttural sound and all of a sudden, the bag was gone from Gyro’s hand. Gyro sat up. In the far corner of his bathroom, a hunched form had suddenly appeared, making slurping sounds.

Gyro blinked and the form became Johnny, kneeling on the tile with his teeth sunk into the blood bag. He drained it in record time, sucking it down like it was a goddamn Capri Sun. Gyro had never seen something so simultaneously disgusting and fascinating.

When the bag was empty, Johnny tossed it aside. He licked his lips and his nose twitched. Some of the color returned to his face, although he still looked awfully wan.

Then, he jerked his head towards Gyro. His pupils were still mere dashes of black.

Oh shit. Gyro scooted away from Johnny as far as he could get, pressing his back against the bathroom door. As much as he wanted his heart to quiet down, it still raced like crazy. He felt like he shouldn’t make any sudden movements.

“Johnny,” he said, cautious but loud. “It’s Gyro— Gyro Zeppeli. Do you recognize me?”

Johnny stared at him for a moment more. Then, he blinked. His pupils contracted and he sat back on his knees with a huff of breath. He looked stunned, like he’d just woken up.

“G… Gyro?” he said.

Gyro relaxed a bit. Johnny seemed to be coming back to himself.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said. “You’re safe now, okay?”

Johnny looked around like he didn’t know where he was. “I… I don’t understand.”

He sounded so confused, even a little scared. Gyro slowly moved a little closer to him, like he was approaching a cornered animal.

“I… found out where they took you,” he said. Best not to tell Johnny the whole story just yet. “I managed to convince— to convince the people who kidnapped you to let you go. I just brought you back here so you could recover.”

Johnny blinked a few more times. His eyes found Gyro, but he didn’t seem comforted in the slightest.

“You came looking for me?” he asked.

Gyro nodded. “Yeah.”

“And… you brought me back to your apartment?”

“Yes.”

Johnny stared at him for another second. Then, unexpectedly, his lip curled.

“You fucking idiot!” he snarled. “What were you thinking? I told you to stay away from me!”

Wait— What?

“Wh— what was I thinking?” Gyro repeated incredulously. “I— I saved your life. I convinced HP and Diego that you weren’t a threat—”

“I didn’t ask you to do that!” Johnny shouted back. “I didn’t want you to— I told you not to— Jesus fuck.”

He clutched his head, falling back against the wall. Gyro instinctively moved toward him. Johnny opened his eyes to glare at him, stopping Gyro in his tracks.

“Don’t get any closer to me, Gyro,” he said. “I’m warning you.”

Gyro didn’t move any closer, but he didn’t move back, either. “I understand if you’re upset with me, but I just—“

“Back up!” Johnny shouted.

Gyro did so, if only because Johnny’s sudden outburst startled him. He found himself with his back against the bathroom door again, trembling slightly. Johnny covered his nose like he was going to be sick.

“I… I’m sorry,” he said. His voice had taken on a note of desperation. “I just… I feel like I can’t control myself…”

Gyro didn’t know what to do. Johnny sunk down against the wall. All of the color had drained out of his face again. He stared off into the distance, like he was looking at something that Gyro couldn’t see.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” he whispered.

“Of course I came,” Gyro blurted out. “I couldn’t leave you on your own like that.”

“Gyro…” Johnny lowered his gaze to his lap. “I… Thank you.”

Hearing Johnny say that just about made all of this worth it. Gyro held out his hand again.

“C’mon,” he said. “The floor can’t be comfortable.”

Johnny looked warily between Gyro’s face and his outstretched hand. “Gyro, I… I haven’t eaten enough and I— I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Johnny, you had me right under your nose and you didn’t hurt me,” Gyro said. Although you didn’t really recognize me, either… “You need to lay down somewhere besides the ground. My room’s close, I’ll be okay.”

Johnny pinched his lips together. He looked around the room. Gyro wasn’t sure what he was looking for, until he pointed to a hand towel by the sink.

“Can you give me that?” he asked.

Gyro didn’t know what he wanted it for, but he gave the towel to Johnny anyway. Johnny rolled it up and bit down on it— a makeshift gag, Gyro realized. Then he nodded, holding his arms out.

Gyro acted quickly, scooping Johnny up. He felt the vampire shudder in his arms as he got close to Gyro’s body, to his warmth and scent. The temptation must’ve been awful.

Gyro practically threw open the bathroom door and ran with Johnny to his room, where he put him down on the bed. Although the curtains in Gyro’s room weren’t as dark as the ones in the rest of the apartment (Johnny had insisted he didn't need blackout shades in his own room), it was still early enough in the morning that full sunlight didn’t come through.

Once Gyro put him down, Johnny spat out the gag. Gyro saw his hands trembling. He decided to stay a safe distance away, leaving Johnny at the head of the bed while he took a seat at the foot. 

“You need to eat more, then?” he asked. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll go to the hospital and grab as much as I can—“

“No,” Johnny interrupted. “I won’t let you risk your residency for me.”

“I’ve smuggled blood in before, I’m sure I can smuggle it out,” Gyro protested.

Johnny just shook his head. He looked stricken. He sat back against the headboard with a dull look in his eye.

“It’s no use,” he said. “I probably won’t even last that long.”

“What?” Gyro said. “What do you mean, you won’t last?”

Johnny bowed his head. “I haven’t eaten in almost four weeks. D’you know what happens to vampires when they don’t get enough blood? They become— I don’t know how to describe it. Feral, almost.”

Gyro thought of the look in Johnny’s eye when he was crouched atop him. Yeah, “feral” made sense.

But something else bothered him: four weeks, is that true? No, that couldn’t be right— Gyro had seen him eat right before they went to the stables. That was only two weeks ago. Maybe Johnny just got confused because he didn’t know how long he’d been in captivity.

“But you just ate a minute ago,” he said. “You should be able to hold out now, right? For at least a few hours?”

Johnny shuddered again. It was like his hunger pangs wracked his whole body. He wrapped his arms around himself as if he could stop them that way.

“It w-wasn’t enough,” he said. “And n-now that I’ve had a taste, the— the cravings are only gonna get w-worse.”

Gyro ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back hard. He’d had no idea. He’d just made things worse for Johnny by giving him that blood. He got up and started to pace.

“Cazzo,” he muttered. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“It’s not your fault,” Johnny said. “This is all… it’s all on me.”

He pulled his knees up to his chest. “It might be best if you just… lock me in here and wait for the sun to come up. Otherwise I might… well. There’s no telling what I’ll do. To you or someone else.”

Gyro swallowed heavily, unable to look Johnny in the eye. He knew he wasn’t exaggerating. The speed with which he’d grabbed the blood bag out of Gyro’s hand made it painfully clear that Gyro was no match for him. No human was. If Johnny didn’t feed soon, they could have a catastrophe on their hands, and Gyro’s apartment would be ground zero.

But the alternative— letting Johnny burn to death in the sun— didn’t feel any more right. Why had it come to this? Did someone have to die to solve this problem? It wasn’t fair.

“I can’t do that,” he said eventually. “I just can’t.”

“I’m telling you right now that there’s no other option,” Johnny said. “Even if you could get another bag of blood, it wouldn’t be enough. I’d need ten times that.”

Gyro stopped in his tracks. All of a sudden, he became painfully aware of his breathing, his heartbeat. Before Johnny left, he’d said something: fresh blood, “straight from the source,” was more powerful than the bagged kind. Ten times more powerful, by Johnny’s estimate.

“There’s… one thing,” he said. “One thing you could do.”

He took a deep breath and sat down on the edge of the bed, much closer to Johnny than before. Johnny stared at him with a hunted look. Gyro brushed his long hair over his shoulder, exposing his ear, chin, and neck. Johnny’s eyes widened, realizing what he was trying to say before he even spoke.

Johnny opened his mouth, but Gyro was faster:

“Just this once, Johnny,” he said. “You can drink my blood.”

Notes:

heheheHEHEHE hang onto that cliff for a lil while ok fam? you'll be okay I promise

Chapter 13: BITE

Summary:

Johnny bites.

Notes:

*pulls you up off the edge of the cliff* Today's chapter title is from a song by Troye Sivan!
CW: graphic descriptions of blood-drinking and suicidal thoughts

The irony of this situation was not lost on Gyro. He had just spent a tense hour arguing passionately that Johnny was not the monster that HP assumed, that he had never drunk from Gyro and would never and so on and so forth— and now here he was, offering his blood to Johnny.

Circumstances have changed, he thought. Desperate times…

With that said, it was clear that Johnny’s opinion on drinking blood “straight from the source” had not changed. It was hard to believe that Johnny would be more averse to drinking Gyro’s blood than Gyro himself was, but he had the most horrified expression that Gyro had ever seen on him. In all of their close calls to date, Johnny had never looked so utterly cornered.

“Gyro,” he said shakily. “Do not—“

“You can drink from me,” Gyro said, unwavering. “Just enough to replenish your strength. If it’s really that dire, I want you to.”

“Gyro,” Johnny repeated, more strained this time.

Gyro turned to look at Johnny, his green eyes flashing. All of a sudden, he’d never felt so determined in his life. He wasn’t going to let Johnny, or anyone, die today. It wasn’t in his nature to stand idly by.

“You said yourself that fresh blood is more potent than the donated kind,” he said. “If you do this, it’ll at least give us the time to get more bags. I’ll make sure that HP and Diego don’t find out.”

“I can’t,” Johnny said hoarsely. “I won’t.”

But his eyes were glued to Gyro’s throat, betraying his thoughts. Gyro knew he couldn’t help it. He hadn’t eaten for weeks now.

“You’re starving,” Gyro said. “If you don’t, you could die.”

“So what?” Johnny hissed. His pupils were contracting, pale skin beading with sweat like he was feverish. “It’d be no great loss.”

“To you, maybe,” Gyro retorted. “For fuck’s sake, Johnny— if you can’t do this for yourself, or for any number of people who you might hurt otherwise, do it for me.”

Johnny stopped, his lips trembling. He looked in Gyro’s eyes, then back to his neck. His breathing sped up and he squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could banish the image from his mind.

But it was too late— it had already taken root within his starved brain. Gyro could tell from the way he clawed at the covers, like he was desperately holding himself back.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said in a strangled voice. “If I killed you, I’d never forgive myself. Never.”

“I won’t let you kill me,” Gyro said. “I know how much blood I can lose without there being any permanent damage. I’ll stop you before you take too much. It’ll be like a blood donation.”

Johnny bit his lip viciously. “What if I can’t stop myself?”

“I will stop you,” Gyro repeated firmly. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

He certainly couldn’t fight Johnny off barehanded, but he had another idea. He reached over to his bedside drawer and opened it up. Inside were a few loose pieces of jewelry, including the cross necklace that he’d worn to HP’s first concert. He wrapped the necklace around his fist like a wrap over a boxer’s knuckles and showed it to Johnny.

“If you get carried away, I’ve got this,” he said.

Johnny instinctively shied away, but that very instinct seemed to speak to him. Perhaps this could work after all. The gears in his head were slowly turning.

“You’ll stop me,” he said.

“I will.”

“You won’t die.”

“Not planning on it.”

“O—Okay.”

Johnny pushed himself up with some difficulty. Gyro could see him trembling and moved closer to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You’re going to be okay.”

Johnny swallowed visibly. “It’s not me that I’m worried about.”

Gyro had to admit that he, too, was getting nervous. Johnny really did seem ravenous, and Gyro had already seen how his humanity could waver in the face of his overwhelming hunger. But he had made his decision, and he trusted Johnny to at least make an effort to control himself.

Gyro steeled himself, knowing that if he showed any fear, Johnny would never go through with it. Then he gave Johnny a smile that he hoped didn’t look too forced and beckoned him over.

Pressing his lips together tightly, Johnny moved closer until he was almost on Gyro’s lap. But he still hesitated, like he wasn’t sure how to proceed. Gyro wasn’t sure how to make it better for him. He tilted his head to try and provide an easier angle.

“Is this all right?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Johnny said in a strained voice. “You’re the doctor. Where’s safest?”

“Ah, right.” Gyro thought about it for a second, palpating his neck. “Aim… here.”

“Okay.” Johnny took a deep breath and lowered his head to Gyro's neck.

Gyro nearly startled when, instead of biting right away, he felt Johnny swipe his tongue over the spot that Gyro had indicated. He’d been expecting pain and instead felt a gentle brush followed by saliva cooling on his skin. It reminded him too much of a less-than-innocent situation he’d been in many times before, although never with Johnny. He’d only ever had Johnny this close in his dreams.

He’s about to bite you and suck your blood, Gyro reminded himself. It’s not romantic in the slightest. But even knowing that didn’t completely banish the thoughts.

“Um,” he said. “What are you doing…?”

Johnny stopped, but didn’t look at Gyro. “Sorry. I’ve found that, um, my spit seems to numb the skin a little bit.”

“Really?” Gyro touched his skin, which was now rather wet. The feeling actually did seem a little more distant, now that he thought about it. “That’s… interesting.”

“M’ sorry if this is weird,” Johnny mumbled.

Gyro tried to get a look at his expression but Johnny purposefully kept his head bowed. Still, he could’ve sworn he saw the tips of Johnny’s ears going red. He was definitely aware of what this felt like.

Cute, Gyro thought, despite himself.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Do what you have to, just… try not to drag it out, okay?”

“Right,” Johnny said. He cleared his throat. “I… I’m going to bite you now, then.”

“Okay,” Gyro said. “Go ahead.”

He closed his eyes and tried to prepare himself. But it quickly became clear to Gyro that there was no possible way to anticipate how it would feel as Johnny sunk his teeth into his neck.

It hurt, first of all. Gyro had been thinking of a needle prick as a reference, but Johnny’s fangs weren’t needles. They weren’t designed to be painless. Gyro couldn’t help but flinch as he felt the pierce and his blood start to flow. He worried that his reaction would cause Johnny to back out, but Johnny didn’t notice. Or, if he did, he no longer cared.

Gyro felt Johnny close his lips over the bite and suck. The foreign feeling made Gyro’s mouth drop open in shock and his eyes open wide. He couldn’t see Johnny’s face, but he could feel his grip tighten on his shoulder. Johnny made a low, almost growling noise that sent a chill down Gyro’s spine.

Gyro had been holding himself up on his arms, but his strength faltered and he sunk back onto his elbows. Johnny didn’t break away from his neck for a second and instead followed him down.

He gave another hard suck and Gyro gasped. His fingers uncurled and the necklace’s chain slipped out from his grasp.

Focus! he screamed at himself. He could feel himself getting lightheaded and it frightened him. It was rapidly dawning on him that Johnny wasn’t going to stop unless he was made to stop. How much is too much, again? He desperately tried to do calculations in his head despite the fog rolling in on his brain. A regular blood donation was, what, 500 milliliters?

But donating blood had never made Gyro feel like this. It was like Johnny’s bite had paralyzed him, sapping all his strength in an instant. It was faster, harsher, more terrifying; Gyro could feel his heart pounding despite the fact that it was just pushing more and more blood out of his body. Was this one of Johnny’s abilities? Did his bite render his prey completely helpless? To his horror, he now realized that he had dropped the crucifix, his only form of protection.

“Johnny,” he said, trying to warn him that he was nearing his limit. His voice came out hoarse. “I can’t…”

Gyro pushed weakly at Johnny’s shoulder to try and dislodge him. Johnny didn’t respond. Gyro’s heart doubled in speed as he mustered all his strength to push him again, this time managing to at least get Johnny to lift his head.

If Gyro had had any breath in his lungs, it would have deserted him at the look on Johnny’s face. His mouth was sickeningly smeared with red, the sharp points of his fangs visible as he curled his upper lip in a snarl. But most frightening to Gyro were his eyes: his irises were almost entirely swallowed by dilated pupils, turning comforting blue into abysses of black.

They were empty in a way that made Gyro’s skin crawl, like the human part of Johnny had been overtaken by something… darker. Something that didn’t know who he was feeding from nor care in the slightest.

Gyro wanted to shake Johnny, slap him, do something to snap him out of it, but he felt utterly powerless. He could only put his hand over his new wound, putting as much pressure on it as he could muster.

“Stop,” he gasped. “You have to stop.”

“Stop…?” Johnny repeated the word like he didn’t know its meaning. His voice was transformed as well, low and cold. He didn’t sound bestial like before, but like a different kind of monster.

Gyro realized too late that he had never seen this Johnny before. It was like someone completely different. He didn’t know this man at all, and he was completely at his mercy.

“Stop,” he said again. As if that would do something.

Johnny’s eyes flicked from Gyro’s neck to his face and then back. He blinked slowly-- once, twice. Then, he lowered his head again.

Gyro couldn’t even cry out. He was certain that Johnny was going to finish what he’d started. He’d drain Gyro’s life out of him. Gyro had sworn to be careful and Johnny was going to make a liar out of him.

Gyro was going to die. But all he could think about was how devastated Johnny was going to be when he came back to his senses.

He expected to feel the pull of blood out of his veins again. But instead, Gyro felt Johnny lick his wounds with the flat of his tongue. Careful, wide strokes cleaned the blood from Gyro’s skin.

Gyro wasn’t sure why, whether it was an effect of being fed upon or something in his own mind, but all of a sudden his skin felt unbearably sensitive. He could’ve sworn that he felt the punctures stitching themselves closed again under Johnny’s mouth. It hurt, sure— but there was something else to it that he couldn’t call pain, something that he didn’t know how to name, a raw sensation that resonated through his whole body like a shockwave.

Johnny pursed his lips against Gyro’s neck and it was like every kiss and bite that Gyro had ever received bundled into one pure feeling. He could do nothing to fight it, nor could he suppress the groan that clambered out of his throat.

Johnny finally stopped and pulled back. He left Gyro’s neck clean and healed, with only two small marks to serve as proof for what had happened. Gyro thought that it was over, but Johnny still had that strange look on his face. Like there was still some hunger in him that was left unsatisfied.

Without warning Johnny cupped Gyro’s face in both hands. Gyro was left flushed by the fear and adrenaline, and he only burned more as Johnny studied him intensely. Johnny leaned in towards him, so close that the tips of their noses were almost brushing.

Is… is he going to kiss me? Gyro thought. His eyes flicked to Johnny’s lips. They were red, still wet with Gyro’s blood.

Under normal circumstances, Gyro would already be kissing Johnny. But that red tint gave him pause. He didn’t know if he could stand to taste his own blood. Something about that seemed intolerably wrong.

In the end, Johnny didn’t kiss him. He released Gyro’s head and quickly climbed off his lap. Drained physically and mentally, Gyro finally collapsed flat on his back on the bed. He couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what he’d say even if he could.

That was maybe— no, definitely— the most frightening moment of his life. And yet, all he wanted now was for Johnny to lay down beside him so he could finally go to sleep.

However, Johnny didn’t seem tired in the slightest. In fact, it seemed like Gyro’s plan had worked and returned him to health. Gyro watched listlessly as Johnny tore off the bandage from his forehead. His wound was completely healed, like it had never happened.

Then, Johnny did something that Gyro wasn’t expecting at all: he got up from the bed and went to throw the bandage in the trash. In other words, Johnny walked. His steps were shaky and he had a noticeable limp, but he could walk without assistance.

In fact, he looked healthier than Gyro had ever seen him. That saddened him a little. Was this the only circumstance in which Gyro would be able to see Johnny with flushed skin and bright eyes, energetic and alert? 

Gyro stared, too out of it to disguise his astonishment at Johnny’s transformation. He tried to sit up, but his head started spinning almost immediately and he lay back down again. Fuck… He probably let Johnny take too much. But he couldn’t bring himself to say he regretted it.

Johnny turned around just in time to see Gyro waver. He started forward, then stopped himself. He scrubbed at his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, he did an about-face and walked straight out of Gyro’s room.

What the fuck? Gyro was able to prop himself up on one elbow without passing out. Did he just leave? But… why? Because he could walk?

Gyro’s stomach dropped. He recalled Johnny saying that he couldn’t even hunt if he wanted to because of his legs. But now, even if just for a little while, he could…

He wouldn’t. Gyro had to believe that. Johnny wasn’t a monster, regardless of what he had to do to survive. He wouldn’t hurt anyone on purpose.

To Gyro’s relief, Johnny returned a few minutes later. He looked like he’d grabbed every edible food item from Gyro’s pantry and then some. He dumped his armful onto the bed next to Gyro: an array of snacks, drinks, and a few generic medicines.

“Eat,” he said. “Drink, too.”

Gyro knew just as well that recovering should be his priority, but he ignored the food for the time being. “Johnny, I just wanna say—“

Johnny shook his head before Gyro could say more. His eyes were almost entirely normal again, but his face contorted as if he was in pain. Gyro stopped, uncertain of what he should say or how. He had no idea what was going through Johnny’s mind right now. He couldn’t imagine.

Before Gyro could formulate anything intelligent, Johnny turned again and left the room once more. This time, he didn’t come back. Gyro strained to hear if his apartment door opened, but it never did.

He forced himself to eat a granola bar or two and drink some water, telling himself that he’d talk to Johnny as soon as he was good to stand. But the combined toll of the long night’s events were too great, and he fell asleep without even meaning to.

---

Leaving Gyro’s room, Johnny went straight to the kitchen and turned the faucet on. He washed his mouth out several times, but the iron taste seemed to cling to his tongue and lips. He did everything to get rid of it: turned the water to scalding hot, scrubbed at his mouth, even tried to add soap to the mix— all to no improvement. His legs shook with the effort of keeping him upright.

Outside it was surely becoming day, but in Gyro’s apartment all was dark. Gyro must’ve drawn the blackout shades to protect him— him, of all people. Johnny limped over to the couch and curled up at one far end, pulling his legs to his chest as tightly as he could.

As time passed, Johnny debated throwing open the shades, letting the sun invade the room and scorch his skin. It would probably turn him into nothing more than a pile of ash with enough exposure. But as much as he wanted to disappear, he couldn’t bring himself to die that way.

Because despite everything, Johnny was afraid of pain. And he only hated himself more for it. He was willing to subject Gyro to the pain of being fed upon, but not willing to do what he should have done a hundred years ago and end his cursed existence. Coward. Wretched, wretched coward.

Johnny dug his nails into his knees, furious at the sensation there. It would go away, though. The temporary reprieve achieved by feeding disappeared again with time, depending on how much he drank.

Johnny couldn’t remember the last time that he consumed so much fresh human blood that he could walk. No braces or anything. Gyro must’ve been in agony. And yet…

Johnny had been so close to not stopping. So close to throwing it all away for the delicate high of satiety. Even though he knew it wouldn’t last. Even though he knew full well that Gyro could die.

He was disgusted with himself on so many levels: that he’d let himself feed on Gyro in the first place, that he’d almost taken too much from him, and, above all, that for a moment it had felt so fucking good.

Feeding his curse produced an unforgettable high. Better than any drug he’d ever taken, better than any sex he’d ever had. Drinking Gyro’s blood was the closest thing that a demon like him would ever get to heaven. That alone was proof of his damnation. Johnny was low, so low that he would hurt someone he cared about just for that fleeting instant of twisted happiness…

He curled up even tighter on the couch, breath coming fast now. Why did you let me do that, Gyro? He wanted to be angry at him but knew he only had himself to blame. He just wished that Gyro hadn’t even given him the opportunity.

He wished Gyro hadn’t rescued him from HP and Diego— he should’ve just let them kill Johnny and be done with it. He wished that Gyro hadn’t made Johnny love him just by existing. Johnny had promised… he’d sworn to her, sworn to himself… 

His body was bursting with unspent energy. It was begging him to do something, to get up and make use of the nourishment it had stolen. Johnny hated it, but he was its slave.

He dragged himself to stand, his limp getting worse and worse as time passed. Clinging to the back of the couch, then the wall, he stumbled to Gyro’s room.

Gyro was asleep, thankfully. Johnny couldn’t have spoken to him. He’d pushed the food that Johnny had given him aside— meager offerings to attempt and mend what he knew he’d broken irreparably— and curled up where, only an hour or so earlier, Johnny had been languishing in hunger. His skin was a little wan but improving. He seemed comfortable.

Gyro was so lovely, even after having lost a pint or two of blood. Johnny watched obsessively to make sure that his chest was rising and falling as proof of life. He wanted nothing more than to go over there and make sure for himself. He wanted to crawl into bed with Gyro and apologize, beg for his forgiveness, kiss his wounds and everywhere else as a promise that he’d never break his skin again.

But Gyro was in the light, where Johnny couldn’t go. Even with the shades drawn, Gyro was the light; he burned Johnny from the inside out. Johnny was left to the dark hallway here, abandoned by God and even Fate, doomed to linger eternally even when his heart and soul were long dead.

He wanted to promise that he’d never hurt Gyro again, but he was a monster. Monsters weren’t afforded the luxury of kept vows. Everything about his existence was a broken promise.

Johnny’s legs were getting weaker and weaker. He sank down against the wall in complete defeat. He had to remain on his side of the threshold, forbidden from entering into Gyro’s world, forbidden from loving and being loved.

When numbness retook hold of his lower half, Johnny crumpled to the floor just outside Gyro’s door. He cried silently, not even strong enough to say goodbye.

Notes:

what, did you think I was gonna just give you the blood-drinking without the complicated emotions?? don't unbuckle your seatbelts just yet, folks!
no notes for this chapter, just my apologies for beating up on the two of them like this 😔 I promise this story has a happy ending! Keep hanging on!

Chapter 14: bitter water

Summary:

A long overdue conversation.

Notes:

thanks for holding on this long folks! the end is actually truly in sight now. <3
Today's chapter soundtrack is a song by the Oh Hellos! If you read my other long AU, "When the Day Met the Night," you might recognize them. ;)
CW: discussions of suicidal ideation and grief

A few hours later, Gyro awoke.

He sat upright and experienced a moment of dizziness that quickly dissipated. The nap seemed to have done him some good. It was the middle of the day and Johnny was nowhere to be found. The apartment was quiet.

There was still a scattered pile of food next to Gyro on the bed. He grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it in a few gulps before getting up. That’d have to tide him over for the time being. He had more important things to deal with.

Gyro grabbed his jacket, ready to run out and find Johnny again if necessary. But he didn’t have to look hard at all: Johnny was curled up on his couch in near complete darkness. Though he no longer looked ill, he didn’t look good either. He was staring into nothing with an empty, shellshocked look on his face.

Seeing him there, Gyro stopped. Everything he was planning on saying evaporated into thin air. His heart ached in a way that destroyed all other thoughts.

“Johnny” was all he could come up with.

Johnny blinked and looked over to him, then quickly looked away.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

Gyro slowly made his way over to the couch. Johnny pushed himself to sit up. Gyro sat down next to him— but he made sure to leave some space.

Neither of them said anything for a little. Gyro wanted to say something, but the problem was that he had no clue where to start. He had so many things that he wanted to say to Johnny— so many things that he wanted to ask him— he didn’t want to forget anything, or leave anything out.

I guess there’s one thing I need to do, he thought. He took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Johnny turned his head sharply towards Gyro, but then wrenched his eyes away again as if looking at Gyro was somehow forbidden. Instead, he stared at his hands on his knees.

“What for,” he asked flatly.

For telling you how I felt, Gyro immediately thought. For making you feel like you had to run and put yourself in danger. For bringing you back here, to the place you were trying to get away from.

“For… my coworker kidnapping you,” he said. Nothing close to what he was really sorry for, but it was something. “I had no idea that HP was a vampire hunter. If I’d known, I never would have—“

“There’s no need to apologize for that,” Johnny interrupted. “It had nothing to do with you.”

Although Johnny was avoiding his gaze, that didn’t stop Gyro from staring at Johnny.

“But I…” He paused, unable to pinpoint his guilt. It seemed to come from all sides. “I was the reason that she came after you. She thought you were feeding on me.”

“And I did,” Johnny said gruffly. “So maybe she ought to have killed me after all.”

He abruptly swung his legs off the side of the couch, gripping the arm rest like he wanted to get up. Gyro thought for a second that he might still be able to walk, as he’d seen him do last night, but judging from Johnny’s grimace that wasn’t the case.

“I should go,” he said. “Where’s my chair?”

Those words were like a punch to Gyro’s gut. I should go. Johnny was leaving again, just like that. Gyro could barely inhale enough air to speak.

“It’s… still in my car,” he whispered.

Johnny shook his head. Gyro was on the verge of offering to go get it for him when Johnny simply pushed himself off of the couch. He fell to the floor with a thump that made Gyro flinch. Then, he began to crawl— away from Gyro, towards the door.

Is— is he going to crawl all the way to the fucking parking lot? Gyro pressed his lips together. For fuck’s sake…

He knew he should just let Johnny go. He should just learn that whatever happened to Johnny from here on out was none of his business. For him to keep tripping over himself to try and help Johnny when Johnny didn’t really want his help— didn’t really want anything from him— it wasn’t fair to either of them. Frankly, Gyro wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

But that was the reasonable side of his brain speaking. The other side— the emotional side, the side that his father had unsuccessfully tried to shrink to nothingness— said no. Not like this.

Gyro stood up. He moved jerkily, almost robotically. He took a few steps over to where Johnny was. Then, he bent down, wrapped his arms around Johnny’s midsection, and lifted him up.

Johnny immediately tried to twist around, to no avail. “Hey— what the fuck, Gyro!? Put me down!”

Gyro swiftly plopped Johnny back down on the couch where he’d just been sitting. He then sat down next to him— still giving him a good bit of distance, but never letting his eyes leave him.

“I’m not gonna keep you here against your will or anything,” he said. “If you want to leave, you can leave. I won’t stop you anymore. But for the love of all things good, Johnny— at least tell me why you’re leaving.”

Johnny stared back at him for once. His lip was slightly curled.

“Why?” he repeated. “Why do you think?”

His voice was full of bitterness. Gyro’s jaw trembled slightly. 

“Because I was honest with you?” Gyro said, throwing his hands up. “Because I told you how I felt instead of hiding it forever?”

He balled his hands into fists, biting into his lip. “Fucking hell— I get it if you don’t like me like that, Johnny. Okay? I heard you loud and clear. And if you wanna leave the city because of it— fine, whatever, that’s your right. But then you get kidnapped, and I get kidnapped, and you drink my fucking blood and then it’s just— ‘I should go’ again? Like, holy shit, can we not talk about any of this? How the fuck else are either of us supposed to move on?”

Gyro finished his speech with a frustrated gesture. He was sure he could’ve said more, but he thought he ought to stop himself. Johnny just kept staring at him the whole way through, his lips just barely parted.

It took a few seconds for Johnny to realize that Gyro was done talking. When he did, he pressed his lips together again and — goddamnit— looked away again.

“You don’t understand,” he said quietly. “You don’t understand the half of it.”

“What is there to not understand?” Gyro asked. “ What the hell am I missing?”

“The fucking point!” Johnny snapped. “Do you think this honestly has to do with either of our feelings? No! You fucking idiot!”

Johnny raised a fist to his head like he wanted to tear his hair out. “It has to do with the fact that you were fucking kidnapped! Because of me! It has to do with you fucking stealing from your job, risking your career, for me!”

He pointed to Gyro’s neck— specifically to the two minuscule marks there. “It has to do with that, Gyro!”

Gyro instinctively put his hand over his bite mark, like he could hide it. The strain and anguish in Johnny’s voice took him off guard. He didn’t know what to say.

Johnny wasn’t finished, though. He grit his teeth hard, so hard that Gyro could see the clench of his jaw. “It doesn’t matter how either of us feel about it. I can’t keep— fuck— I can’t keep fucking using you like this.”

Gyro blinked in surprise. “…Using me?”

“Do you think this is where it stops?” Johnny asked. “No, this— this is just where it starts. Living in your house, drinking your blood— at this rate, I’m gonna fucking kill you by the end of next month. Then what, Gyro? Then are you really gonna wish I stayed?”

Johnny shook his head. “No. You’re gonna wish that HP had staked me like she should’ve.”

“How can you say that?” Gyro blurted out. “You would never hurt me!”

Johnny looked at him like he’d grown another head. “I bit you last night. I know you remember.”

“I told you you could.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“You were starving!” Gyro exclaimed. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“You should have let me fucking starve!” Johnny shouted back.

Gyro was stunned. Johnny pulled back, curling up into himself. Although his eyes were cast down, Gyro could see that they were watery.

“What’s wrong with one less vampire in the world?” he muttered. “God knows I’d do it myself if I were brave enough.”

“Johnny!”

All of a sudden, Gyro found himself closing the gap between them. He grabbed Johnny’s shoulders as if he could shake him out of it. Johnny tensed, but didn’t pull away.

Instead, he just looked up at Gyro. The tears in his eyes were now obvious. Gyro couldn’t stop himself from putting a hand on Johnny’s cheek, swiping away a tear with his thumb.

“Johnny,” Gyro repeated, softer this time. “Please don’t say that.”

“Gyro…” All of Johnny’s earlier anger seemed to have cooled and melted into sadness. He put his hand over Gyro’s on his face like he might pry it away at any moment. “Last night… I could have really hurt you. I could’ve killed you.”

“You didn’t,” Gyro said. “You stopped before you hurt me. I’m okay.”

“You don’t understand,” Johnny said miserably, as if saying that would help Gyro understand any better. “I… I didn’t want to stop.”

His fingers curled around Gyro’s as more tears fell. “You’ve been nothing but good to me and I still didn’t want to stop. I care about you more than anyone in the world, and I wanted to keep going…”

Johnny shut his eyes as if he couldn’t stand to look at Gyro anymore. Dewdrop tears clung to his lashes. Gyro’s heart was racing with an emotion that he couldn’t pinpoint. Was it fear, knowing how close Johnny had been to killing him? Exhilaration at hearing Johnny say how much he cared about him?

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s in the past.”

“No,” Johnny said emphatically, a trembling edge to his voice. “You don’t understand, it’s— what I am, it’s—“

“I understand what you are,” Gyro said. “You’re the guy who started a conversation with a random stranger in a convenience store and kept his life from becoming hell on Earth. You’re the reason that I get out of bed at one AM every night. You’re my best friend, and I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Johnny opened his eyes. Gyro saw his pupils dilate. A shiver of a thrill went through his body. He was about to say something he probably shouldn’t— you’re the one I’ve fallen in love with— but Johnny acted first. He tilted his head up and pressed his lips to Gyro’s.

Gyro felt his body catch on fire, starting with his heart. It beat like a relentless drum as he kissed Johnny back, so loud that he was sure Johnny could hear it. Johnny’s lips were a thousand times sweeter than Gyro could have ever imagined, and unexpectedly warm. Gyro slid his hand into Johnny’s hair while Johnny grabbed onto his back like he’d fall through the floor otherwise.

Just as he was the one to start it, Johnny pulled back first. His face was flushed, but his expression was more conflicted than before.

“You shouldn’t—" he swallowed thickly-- "we shouldn’t do this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not afraid of you?” Gyro asked.

“It’s more than that.” Johnny rubbed the tears from his cheeks like he wanted to erase them from existence. “Gyro, there’s— there’s something I have to tell you.”

Gyro sat back. “Yeah?”

Johnny took a deep breath.

“I didn’t leave because I didn’t like you,” he said. “I left because… I do. Like you, I mean.”

Gyro could’ve guessed as much from the kiss, but hearing Johnny say it still made his heart soar. He smiled as he put his hand on Johnny’s knee, getting ready to lean in for another kiss to seal the deal— but Johnny stopped him with a pained expression.

“But we can’t be together,” he said.

Gyro paused. Was Johnny still holding onto the guilt of biting him? “I told you: I don’t think you’ll ever hurt me.”

“That doesn’t mean that you won’t hurt me," Johnny said in exasperation. 

“…what?” Gyro pulled back a bit, startled to hear Johnny say that. How could he be afraid of Gyro? Even if he could hurt Johnny— which was unlikely, given Johnny’s superior strength and speed— he never would.

Unless… Johnny was still thinking about HP. After all, she was still a vampire hunter, and she and Gyro would still be coworkers come Monday.

“I promise I won’t let HP or Diego do anything to you ever again,” Gyro swore, putting his hand over his heart. “I explained everything to her, and she already said she’d let it slide—“

“Not like that,” Johnny said, shaking his head. “Just… listen to me for a second, Gyro.”

Gyro made himself be quiet, even though he felt agitated and jittery. He wanted to know how Johnny thought he might hurt him— so that he’d know how to convince him that it would never happen. Johnny chewed his lip, looking like he was trying to put everything together in his head. Finally, he spoke:

“You already know that I turned way back in 1890,” he said. “It wasn’t so easy to find food back then. There were no blood banks or anything like that, so I survived on animal blood for a long time. Horses, mostly— I lived in racing country, so there was no shortage of ‘em. I hated it, but it was better than hurting people. But I wasn’t so good at knowin’ how much was too much and all that shit… some of ‘em ended up dying.”

Johnny frowned as he recounted this, and Gyro nodded sympathetically. He knew logically that a horse dying was better than a person, but he also knew that Johnny had a special relationship to horses. Killing one, even on accident, must’ve been hard on him. Johnny went on:

“People started getting suspicious about the deaths, and I knew I had to go before I got caught. I didn’t even want to stay in the States anymore anyway, so I got on the first boat heading across the Atlantic. And, uh… that was where I met her.”

When he failed to say more, Gyro prompted him. “Met who?”

Johnny swallowed heavily, looking anywhere but at Gyro.

“Rina,” he said. “My… my wife.”

Gyro’s thoughts ground to a halt. His mouth fell open. Johnny was married?! He felt the sudden need to pull back further— Gyro had slept with enough married people for his liking…

Wait. This was still the 19th century Johnny was talking about, right? So his wife, was she…?

Johnny continued regardless of Gyro’s utter confusion. “I didn’t mean for things to happen how they did. I didn’t expect it at all. We just got to talking because, well, what else are you supposed to do on a long voyage like that? She never treated me as lesser because of my legs, and she even…”

He shook his head. “She was headed for Japan. My plan was to disembark in Europe. So before I got off the ship, I— I told her the truth about me. About what I was. And she… she didn’t care about that, either. She wasn’t afraid. She wanted to be with me anyway. That… that was the first time I ever experienced real love.”

Johnny took a shuddering breath. A wobbly smile formed on his lips. Meanwhile, Gyro felt like the floor had dropped out from underneath him and he was falling, falling, falling. Real love… True love, in other words.

“Oh,” was all he could say.

“Like I said, I wasn’t really prepared for it,” Johnny said. “But I didn’t have any other plans, either, so… I went with her to her homeland. And… I was happy. We were happy.”

But still Gyro nodded along, even as he felt himself growing more and more distant. As Johnny spoke about this Rina, his love for her became more and more evident. It was like every time Gyro found out a male crush of his was straight, but multiplied by a thousand.

In other words: it was hell.

“We got married the next year,” Johnny said. “Her father ran a fruit business, but he was also interested in horses, so I helped him there. Got hired by the government, if you can believe it. I learned how to feed properly. I never bit Rina. Never. But then she… she got sick.”

His voice faltered. The sound dug Gyro’s grave even deeper. He could hardly stand this, listening to Johnny recount the story of his long-lost love. Why is he telling me this? Gyro almost would rather not know.

“She had a… a genetic disease, of some sort,” Johnny said. “More like a curse. Her skin hardened and she started to forget things… everything, really. Even me. There was nothing that anyone could do— it would’ve taken a miracle to cure her. I’d know, I searched for years. Before I knew it… she was gone.”

Gyro was silent. Johnny tilted his head back against the arm of the couch. He sighed heavily. It seemed like the emotion had gone out of him, like now he was just… tired.

“After that I realized what a curse my life had really become,” he said. “Humans get what, eighty years on average? And that’s if you’re lucky. If you avoid war, and famine, and disease, you get eighty-some years. Rina died when she was twenty-seven. She didn’t even get half that.”

His voice took on that tightness again, that twist of bitterness and sorrow. “But me? I’m nearing a hundred and fifty, now. And there’s no fucking end in sight for me. After Rina died, I told myself— I can’t fucking do this again. I can’t get attached to a human again. I can’t… I can’t fall in love again.”

Johnny hung his head. When he spoke again, his voice was a mere whisper.

“And then… you came along,” he said. “And it was like I didn’t even have a choice.”

Oh, Gyro thought. He understood what Johnny meant now when he said Gyro would hurt him. He would leave him— not of his own volition, but because it was what nature demanded.

“I…” He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to put his arms around Johnny and just hold him, as if that would make it better somehow. As if love could protect them from time.

But it couldn’t. Nothing could. How could Gyro subject Johnny to inevitable loss? There could be no happy ending to this story. There could be no forever…

Gyro stared at his own hands. But then again, he thought, when can there be?

“Johnny… You can say it’s selfish of me if you want,” he said, “but I still want to be with you.”

Johnny glanced up at him, then shook his head. “Don’t say that, Gyro. You’re only gonna make it worse for both of us.”

“Johnny, I love you—“

“Stop!” Johnny said— pleaded, really. “Stop it.”

“—and you love me.” Gyro kept going regardless. “Denying it isn’t going to fix it. It’s not going to make it hurt less.”

“You don’t get it!” Johnny said, tears welling up in his eyes anew. “Jesus Christ, Gyro— I've barely been able to eat since I realized how I feel about you. All I can think about is how fucking cursed I am, and how it’s keeping me from— from living the life that I want to.”

Is that how he got to be so hungry? Gyro thought. Because of me? But then again, it wasn't just because of him. He couldn't shoulder that burden for Johnny.

“That’s not what’s keeping you from living your life, Johnny,” Gyro said. “You are. You’re keeping yourself from that life, because you don’t want to get hurt. But you can’t live any sort of life without getting hurt. That’s what life is.”

“It’s easy for you to say!” Johnny snapped. “You’re not the one who has to deal with losing everything and everyone you’ve ever loved!”

Gyro was unfazed. “Would you have rather you never met me? Would you have rather you never met Rina?”

“Of course not! Why would you even ask me that?” Johnny snarled. “I loved her!”

“Then it was worth it, wasn’t it?” Gyro asked sternly. “If you really loved her, then loving her was worth the pain of losing her.”

Johnny was stunned into silence. Gyro was breathing heavy, like he’d just run a mile. With Johnny not saying anything, he kept talking.

“You’ve been around long enough, Johnny, you should know,” he said. “There’s no such thing as love without loss. If all we ever wanted to do in life was avoid pain, what’s the point of being alive in the first place?”

Johnny stared at him, as if he couldn’t even understand the words he was saying, let alone their meaning. Gyro wasn’t sure if he could convince Johnny of what he was saying, but he could at least say it.

“I’m telling you right now that I love you,” he said. “And sure, it’s temporary. Everything is. Even you, probably. But, god, it’s still good. You and I, we’re still good. I’d rather have you for less than the blink of an eye than go my whole life without you.”

Johnny blinked a few times in bewilderment. He exhaled with a shudder, then shut his eyes. His lips twitched like they weren’t sure whether to smile or frown.

“I don’t understand,” he said. “I don’t understand how you can make me feel like that’s all true.”

“Maybe it’s because it is true,” Gyro said.

He found Johnny’s hand and touched it, silently asking permission. Johnny turned his palm out to interlock his fingers with Gyro’s. He kept his eyes closed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I want to… I want to love you. But I’m… it’s like since Rina died... I’ve forgotten how.”

“Let me help you, then,” Gyro said, leaning in towards Johnny. “Please. We’ll find a way. Let me help.”

Johnny opened his eyes. Their blue, so clear and vivid, took Gyro’s breath away. They stared at one another for a moment. Gyro wondered what Johnny saw when he looked at him.

Then, as if to answer his unspoken question, Johnny closed the gap between them.

Notes:

:O there it is!!! the kiss!!!!! finally ya'll can stop reading... JUST KIDDING THERE'S SMUT IN THE NEXT CHAP STAY TUNED
(psst: as before, the sex scene will be marked off with a line break so you can skip it if you want.)
notes:
>Johnny and Rina were married in 1892 (like in canon!) and she died in 1901. They never had any children. Johnny lived in Morioh while he was married to her, but came back to the US when she died. I actually like Rina a lot and wish that Araki had given her more character development... might be the subject of a future fic, who knows!

Chapter 15: chateau lobby #4 (in c for two virgins)

Summary:

Johnny and Gyro spend the night (or, really, the day) together.

Notes:

CW: NSFW ahead!!!
Yes, here it is: the smut chapter! This is VERY NSFW-- full on sex scene, no holds barred, you know the drill. If you're not interested in reading the sexy parts, please skip to the line break!
Oh, and today's chapter title is from a Father John Misty song. Now go forth and ~enjoy~ ;)

The kiss lasted only a few seconds at most. When Johnny pulled away, Gyro’s lips tingled.

“…Shit,” Johnny said, running his fingers through his hair. “M’ sorry, I keep getting carried—“

Gyro kissed him again before he could finish that sentence. Johnny quickly reciprocated, pressing his lips to Gyro’s insistently, almost frantically, as if he was afraid that Gyro would slip away from him. They kissed until Gyro couldn’t breathe.

He broke away, took a huge gulp of air and leaned in again— but this time Johnny stopped him with a hand on his chest. He had a sort of scared, shifty look in his eyes.

“Hold on,” he said. “You— I’m not making you do this, am I?”

Gyro cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“My charisma,” Johnny said, avoiding Gyro’s gaze. “Sometimes people seem to get… affected by a vampire’s bite. You might just be doing this because of that, not because you really want—“

“Don’t be stupid,” Gyro interrupted him. “I’ve wanted to do this since long before you bit me.”

Anyway, he was pretty sure that he knew what Johnny was talking about. His bite had left Gyro light-headed, with his senses heightened but his mind dulled. But that feeling had long since faded. Now all that was left in Gyro was the desire he’d been feeling all along.

He kissed the side of Johnny’s mouth playfully, but Johnny didn’t take his hand from Gyro’s chest just yet.

“Aren’t you worried?” he asked. “I could— I could bite you again, easy.”

“Nah,” Gyro said. “I trust you.”

Johnny slowly let his hand fall, looking as if his mind was far away. Gyro reached up to rub his thumb along Johnny’s bottom lip. He wanted to bring him back to the here and now.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Johnny blinked, then nodded. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Can I kiss you again, then?”

Johnny nodded again, his body relaxing back against the couch cushions. He even smiled a little. “Yes. Please.”

Gyro grinned. “Nyohoho, only ‘cause you asked so nice.”

“…you asked first, weirdo,” Johnny muttered, then wrapped his arms around Gyro’s neck.

They kissed lazily for a while, Gyro pressing Johnny against the arm of the couch. Johnny opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and Gyro happily accepted. He made Johnny shudder by running his tongue along the other’s teeth, particularly his fangs.

Johnny's teeth didn’t threaten Gyro, but rather piqued his curiosity. Were they always this long and pointy, or did they ever change? They weren’t normally noticeable, nor did they interfere with Johnny’s speech.

“Careful,” Johnny mumbled, pulling back slightly. “Don’t cut yourself. They’re sharp.”

“I can tell,” Gyro said, a note of amusement in his voice. “Say, Johnny, do they extend?”

Johnny blushed and covered his mouth. “Wh— why do you ask?”

“They just seem more prominent sometimes. Like now.”

“Um…” Johnny’s blush deepened. “Yeah, I guess they kinda… retract, normally? But they sort of… come out when I’m, uh… hungry, or…”

“Aroused?” Gyro supplied, less than helpfully.

Grinning devilishly, he lay the palm of his hand over Johnny’s crotch, causing the other man to squeak in surprise. It certainly felt like Johnny was aroused, if his teeth weren’t proof enough.

“Shit,” Johnny said under his breath. “You're not wastin' any time, are ya?" 

“No more than I already have,” Gyro said, going in for another kiss.

He kept his hand right where it was, rubbing Johnny lightly through his pants. Johnny was incredibly receptive even to the faint touch, clinging to Gyro’s shoulders and making quiet noises in the back of his throat.

Gyro found his every reaction both sexy and endearing. It made him want to do nothing more than please Johnny. He pulled back to catch his breath and poke a little fun at the same time.

“You make such cute sounds,” Gyro said, his voice low and teasing. “I’ve barely even gotten started. Do you want me that bad?”

“Ugh, shut up,” Johnny said, squeezing his eyes shut. His flippant tone was a stark contrast to the way he arched his back, trying to increase the pressure of Gyro’s hand. “It’s been a while, that’s all.”

“Am I ending a dry spell for you?”

“Gyro!” Johnny huffed in exasperation. “If you’re gonna do something, just do it already.”

“Whatever you want, nyoho.”

Gyro shuffled down on the couch a few inches and touched his lips experimentally just below Johnny’s ear. Johnny sighed out in pleasure as Gyro nipped at the sensitive skin there. But when he moved just a little too low on his neck, Johnny tensed.

Gyro pulled away. “Not okay?”

“S’ fine, just— makes me think of something else,” Johnny mumbled. “Skip it for today?”

He must’ve still had the guilt from biting Gyro on his mind. Gyro was determined to make him forget that ever happened.

“Sure,” he said. “Can I take off your shirt?”

Johnny nodded and lifted his arms for Gyro to pull his sweatshirt off over his head. Gyro licked his lips at the sight of Johnny’s pale chest and arms, which were fairly well-muscled due to their consistent use. His dress and demeanor belied a significant physical strength, at least in his upper half. Gyro found that hidden power enticing. He delighted at the chance to see this secretive man finally laid bare.

Meanwhile, Johnny squirmed under his gaze, clearly self-conscious.

“Can you stop starin’ so much?” he snapped.

“Only if you stop being so beautiful,” Gyro replied.

“‘Beautiful’?” Johnny snorted. “You’re such a sap.”

Gyro pursed his lips. “What do you want me to say?”

He leaned over Johnny to kiss his sternum. Johnny played with Gyro’s hair absently as he did so.

“Dunno,” he said. “Just quit being so— oh—“

The interruption was due to the fact that Gyro had closed his mouth over one of Johnny’s nipples, teasing it with his tongue. Johnny was, evidently, quite sensitive here. His fingers clutched in Gyro’s long hair as he moaned through gritted teeth.

The slight pain in Gyro’s scalp sent an inexplicable thrill right to his dick. He could never explain why that felt so good to him, but it did. Spurred on, he sucked a little more insistently, which only prompted Johnny to pull harder. A perfect feedback loop.

With his other hand, Gyro resumed feeling Johnny up. Johnny choked a bit and Gyro looked up.

“How well can you feel this?” he asked.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Johnny responded quickly. “S’ good.”

“Would it be better if I did this…?”

With that he pulled down Johnny’s waistband, just enough to free his cock. Gyro was pleased to see that Johnny was already hard, even though he hadn’t been teasing him for very long. Johnny groaned low as Gyro scooted down enough to make it obvious what he wanted to do.

“Yeah, go ahead,” he panted, gripping the cushion below him.

Johnny bit his lip and Gyro could see the tip of a fang poking out, brilliant white shining against the pink of his lips. The reminder of Johnny’s predatory nature unexpectedly set his stomach ablaze with arousal. He thought it best to ignore that for now as he wrapped a hand around Johnny and started to slowly stroke him mere inches away from his lips.

“Ah, Gyro…” Johnny tipped his head back in simultaneous satisfaction and frustration at knowing how much more satisfying it could be. “C’mon.”

“What?” Gyro asked. “This not enough for you?”

“No,” Johnny said bluntly. He no longer showed any shame as he squirmed in anticipation. “Use your mouth… please.”

“At least you remembered your manners,” Gyro said, shaking his head. He was planning on doing that anyway, Johnny was just impatient. “Fine. I’ll give you what you want.”

Gyro sucked the tip of Johnny’s cock into his mouth, relishing the cry of pleasure that action elicited. Johnny didn’t have much to say now, or at least nothing resembling words. He could only whimper and moan as Gyro circled his tongue around his head.

Johnny wove his fingers back into Gyro’s hair and held tight, provoking a muffled moan from his partner. They were quickly learning one another’s languages, what they wanted and needed from each other. Gyro was hard-pressed to think of anyone else with whom he had so much chemistry.

Looking up at Johnny, Gyro took him further into his mouth and throat. He’d never been troubled by a gag reflex and wasn’t about to start. Johnny practically yelled, his chest heaving with air that he didn’t need to breathe.

They locked eyes. Gyro had never felt a gaze so intense as Johnny’s in that moment. It burned through him like he was made of paper.

“S-Stop,” Johnny said suddenly, untangling his hand from Gyro’s hair to push at his shoulder. “Gyro, get off.”

Gyro did so immediately, frowning. He knew this was probably intense for Johnny— hell, it was intense for him— but still couldn’t think of a reason he’d want to stop all of a sudden. He thought Johnny was enjoying himself.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“No, but I’ll come if you keep that up.”

Gyro raised his eyebrows. “Is that not the point?”

“Christ alive, you’re so dense.” Johnny’s already-flushed face reddened by another shade or two. “I don’t want this to end here.”

Vague, Gyro thought. “What do you want, then?”

“You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” Johnny rolled his eyes peevishly. “I want to have sex.”

“Oh!” Gyro perked up at that. “Yeah, okay! Geez, I didn’t think it’d be this easy.”

Johnny scowled hard at him for that. “Don’t call me easy, asshole.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Gyro said, patting Johnny’s thigh in an attempt at a conciliatory gesture. Johnny swatted his hand away, an insincere threat to smack him.

“I just feel bad for makin’ you wait,” he said.

“You won’t feel bad for much longer, trust me,” Gyro said with a lecherous drawl. He then paused for a moment, thinking it over. “So— do you have a preference, or…?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said. “I want you inside me.”

What a quaint way of phrasing it. Gyro quirked a brow. “So you are a bottom.”

This time Johnny really did smack him on the arm, albeit lightly. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Gyro laughed at his scandalized voice. “It’s not supposed to mean anything, it’s just a statement! You wanna bottom, right?”

“Well— with you, yeah.” Johnny looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “That was just how I pictured it, anyway.”

Gyro’s mouth went dry at that comment. How he pictured it? This led to a whole cascade of questions: so Johnny had imagined having sex with Gyro before, then? Fantasized about it, even? Shit— had he ever touched himself while thinking about Gyro? While imagining Gyro fucking him?

Suddenly, Gyro couldn’t wait a minute longer. He’d made up his mind: this was happening, now. And it was going to be even better than Johnny dreamed.

He hopped up from the couch. “Hold on two seconds, I’ll be right back.”

“What are you—“

But Gyro was gone before he could hear the rest of Johnny’s question. He dashed into his room and made sure that the shades were firmly shut. He couldn’t have Johnny getting burned by the sun. To compensate, he flicked on the small bedside lamp. It wasn’t greatest mood lighting, but it’d have to do.

After that, he cleared off the bed by unceremoniously sweeping the uneaten food items onto the floor; he could take care of that later. Then he rummaged through his drawers to verify that he did indeed have lube and condoms. He hadn’t had the time or opportunity to use either since moving to this city (at least not with a partner) but it was always good to be prepared.

Gyro returned to the living room. He scooped Johnny up without a word, silencing his protests with kisses. Johnny didn’t like to be carried normally, but he seemed less angry about it if he could make out with Gyro at the same time. Besides, it was just to get Johnny into his room faster. Gyro would make it up to him real soon.

He deposited Johnny on the bed and climbed atop him to keep kissing him silly. Gyro enjoyed kissing and had to admit that Johnny was pretty good at it. He wasn’t shy or passive, which Gyro liked. If he pressed hard, Johnny would give it right back to him and then some. Gyro liked that assertiveness; it made things more interesting. 

As much as Gyro would’ve liked to just kiss for a while, Johnny was tugging at his shirt like he’d just rip it off if Gyro didn’t take it off soon enough. Gyro laughed and did as he wanted, then moved back in to keep kissing him. Johnny stopped him again.

“Let me look at you,” he said breathlessly. “Let me…”

He trailed off, apparently not sure what he wanted Gyro to let him do. Fortunately for him, Gyro was prepared to let him do just about anything. Looking was the least of what he’d allow.

For the time being, he sat back on his knees on the bed, straddling Johnny. Johnny’s gaze roamed shamelessly over Gyro’s body. Gyro just smirked at that. He wasn’t conceited, but he was in good shape and he knew it. Well— maybe he was a little conceited.

“Do whatever you want,” he said. “I’m all yours.”

Johnny sat up, still looking a bit lost. He brushed his fingers down Gyro’s chest, across his abs to his belt, then looked up. His lashes fluttered cutely, like he’d suddenly gotten shy.

“Can I?” he asked.

“All yours, I said.”

Johnny let out a soft laugh as he unbuckled Gyro’s belt.

“S’ almost too good to be true,” he said, half to himself. “You’re too perfect. Feels like I’m gonna wake up any second and it’ll all have been a dream.”

Gyro wasn’t the type to be moved by words, especially not compliments, but he found himself blushing at Johnny’s quiet confession. It was all the things that Gyro felt he ought to be saying to Johnny. If Johnny felt lucky to be with Gyro, Gyro was a hundred times luckier.

“Trust me,” he said. “I feel the same way.”

He felt especially fortunate when Johnny finally got his pants and underwear out of the way. He’d been hard for a while already and getting rid of his clothes was a sweet relief— which was made even sweeter when Johnny loosely gripped his shaft.

Gyro sighed deeply, relaxing into the touch. Unlike Johnny, however, Gyro knew he wasn’t dreaming. Dreams were never this good.

Johnny kissed the tip of his dick, then held it up to lick a stripe along the underside. Gyro bit back a moan, but distantly wondered why he didn’t actually take it into his mouth. That question was answered the next time that Johnny looked up at him and opened his lips.

“You’re pretty big, you know that, right?” he asked. “Not tryna stroke your ego, but… damn.”

Gyro usually would have had a snarky, prideful response to that, but he couldn’t focus on much aside from the razor-sharp fangs inches away from his dick. His breath caught as he realized just how vulnerable he was in this position. It made him feel more than naked.

But then there was the way that Johnny looked up at him, with such adoration and eagerness to please in his eyes. And he was so careful, flicking his tongue out to avoid even scraping Gyro with his teeth.

So here Gyro was, with a literal bloodsucking creature in his bed, deadly fangs right up against his flesh, and he wasn’t the least bit afraid. He couldn’t imagine Johnny actually hurting him like this. If anything, knowing what Johnny could do to him and yet refused to do was only… well, it was kind of turning him on, if he was completely honest. Great, I’ve become every teenage girl circa 2005.

He could now sympathize with Johnny from earlier— if they kept up the foreplay any longer, they weren’t going to get to enjoy the main event. Gyro tapped Johnny on the shoulder to get his attention and gestured with his head for him to lay back. Johnny quirked an eyebrow but obeyed.

Gyro rid himself fully of his clothing and did the same for Johnny, tossing their pants into a heap somewhere in the room. He returned to his bedside table for the lube and condoms.

“You know how this goes, right?” he asked.

Johnny rolled his eyes, shifting to get comfortable on Gyro’s pillows. “No, I’ve been around for a century and a half and I still don’t know how anal works— ow!”

He suddenly jumped like something had bit him, scrambling to move from his spot. He investigated where he’d just been laying, only to scowl deeply.

“What is it?” Gyro asked in mild alarm.

“You left your crucifix on the bed,” Johnny said, pointing. “I just sat on it.”

“Really? I totally forgot.” Gyro had to suppress a laugh as he located the necklace. He moved it to his table, unable to stop himself from grinning as Johnny watched warily. “Sorry, caro. You know what they say— always use protection.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Johnny said. He patted the covers down, checking for any other potential dangers before laying down on his back again.

“I’m Italian, loose crucifixes here and there are just part of the deal,” Gyro said. “And don’t worry, I very much plan on it.”

He paused. “On fucking you, that is.”

“I get it,” Johnny deadpanned. “Can you stop putting it off, then?”

Gyro flashed him a grin. “If you insist.”

He gave Johnny one last peck on the lips before uncapping the lube and slicking up his fingers. Johnny watched him hungrily, grabbing a knee to hold his legs open. Gyro kept a watchful eye on the other’s face as he worked the first finger in, pausing when Johnny’s brows knit together in something that might’ve been pain. Johnny, however, made a noise of complaint at his hesitation.

“Keep going,” he said. “S’ just one finger, I ain’t gonna break.”

“You’re really tight. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt.”

“You’ll tell me if it does, right?”

Johnny nodded hastily. “Yeah— but keep going.”

Gyro did as he was told. He worked up to another finger, prompting a breathy moan from Johnny. He really was tight as hell. Thinking too hard about how he was going to feel around his dick would probably give Gyro an aneurysm. He bit his lip in concentration as he gently moved his fingers, stretching Johnny out while also searching for that sensitive spot that he planned on becoming intimately familiar with.

He knew he found it when Johnny tensed. Smirking to himself, Gyro started to rub there more purposefully. Johnny cried out, clenching down hard on his fingers.

“Fuck,” Johnny panted. “M-More of that. Please.”

“You’ll get it.” Gyro kissed Johnny’s chest to placate him. “Just relax, you’re not ready yet.”

Johnny whined a bit, but did appear to make an effort to relax. He sank back into the pillows as Gyro worked him open, eventually adding a third finger.

By the time Johnny was sufficiently prepared, Gyro had a lovely sight before him: Johnny with his hair tousled and his face flushed, a sheen of sweat on his skin, his cock red and leaking from the continuous stimulation that was just not quite enough to make him come. He was an enticing mix of unwound and on edge, inhibitions forgotten in the maddening teasing.

Gyro swallowed thickly as he felt his own dick throb. He couldn’t wait much longer either.

“That’s probably enough,” he said, removing his fingers. “You feel all right?”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, sounding a bit dazed. “God knows you took your time.”

“You’ll thank me later,” Gyro said, grabbing a condom.

Johnny smiled at him as Gyro tore open the condom’s packaging and rolled it on. He poured a generous amount of lube into his palm and spread it over himself before positioning himself at Johnny’s entrance.

Looking down almost made Gyro dizzy as he realized how close he was to what he’d wanted so badly for so long. He inhaled and pushed in as slowly as he could. But it was hard to hold back when Johnny felt so, so good. And looked good, and sounded good, and— God, Johnny was everything.

Gyro gradually sheathed himself to the base, then leaned down to kiss Johnny as they both adjusted. Johnny panted into Gyro’s mouth, wrapping his arms around him in a vice grip that Gyro couldn’t have escaped even if he wanted to.

Not that it mattered, because he really, really didn’t want to. He felt drunk off of this feeling: the heat, the pressure, the sheer knowledge that he was as close to Johnny as he could ever be.

“Lemme know when I can move,” Gyro mumbled against Johnny’s lips.

“Whenever you want,” Johnny replied. “God— yesterday, Gyro.”

“Cazzo.” English swears just didn’t cut it as Gyro started to move his hips.

He started slow enough, allowing a little more adjustment time, but picked up his pace with Johnny’s fervent encouragement. The current position was a bit strenuous for him, as he had to hold himself up while moving. But being able to catch Johnny’s cries of pleasure in his mouth was more than enough to make him forget the pain.

Gyro adjusted, lifting Johnny’s hips a little and increasing speed again. Johnny gasped, digging his fingers into the sheets as the improved angle made him see stars. Gyro snapped his hips sharply and rhythmically against the other’s ass, savoring the sound made by their slick bodies colliding. Something about this made him feel like an animal in the best way: unconcerned with anything but this, like there was nothing else but him and Johnny.

Suddenly, he didn’t want it to end. He could feel himself getting close, and even though it felt like it had been a lifetime it was still too soon. There was still so much that he wanted from Johnny. He paused to kiss him, his arms trembling.

Johnny hummed against his lips. “Getting tired?”

Gyro laughed weakly. Johnny must’ve noticed the strain. “M’ giving you all I got.”

“We can switch positions,” Johnny proposed. He twirled a strand of Gyro’s hair around his finger, his eyes half-lidded. “I wanna ride you. That okay?”

More than okay. Gyro nodded eagerly. “Yeah, ‘course.”

He kissed Johnny once more in parting, then carefully pulled out so they could switch places. Gyro scooted up the bed a little so he was more sitting than laying down. Johnny climbed on top of him, blushing at the way Gyro stared as he guided Gyro’s cock back to his ass. Gyro held Johnny’s hips steady as he sank down with a long exhale.

Now this was what Gyro had really wanted: Johnny on top of him, biting his lip as he worked to take him fully. It felt fucking blissful. Gyro didn’t know where he found it in him to not just start driving his hips up with abandon.

Perhaps it was the way that Johnny’s intense stare paralyzed him. He had this fierce, almost crazed look in his eye that made Gyro feel wanted like never before. God, he was so whipped and he didn’t even care.

“You… You’ll have to help me a bit, ‘cause of my legs,” Johnny said, placing his hands on Gyro’s shoulders. He ground down on Gyro’s lap, brows furrowing.

“I got you,” Gyro said. It was a good thing that Johnny was so lightweight. He could easily grip under Johnny’s ass. “Ready?”

“Mm-hm,” Johnny said, shutting his eyes.

Gyro started to move him, slowly at first but quickly increasing speed. He meant to draw it out longer but couldn’t help but go faster with how hot and tight Johnny was around him. He wanted more, by any means necessary. Johnny was evidently enjoying himself as well, letting out pleased sounds from between clenched teeth that just made Gyro want him more.

It wasn’t long until Johnny was riding him hard and fast. Johnny’s nails scored Gyro’s shoulders as he took Gyro’s cock over and over again. But as good as it was, Gyro knew from Johnny’s reactions that he wasn’t quite hitting that spot yet. That just wouldn’t do.

He shifted, angling Johnny so as to drive up into him even deeper. Finally, that did it. Johnny’s mouth fell open.

“Fuck, Gyro!” he cried out, knotting his fingers in Gyro’s hair. “There— oh— fuck…“

He was nearly incomprehensible except for when he was swearing or saying Gyro’s name. Gyro loved it. He wanted to make Johnny talk more, just to hear how incoherent he was. Only problem was that he was pretty incoherent himself.

“Hah— you like that?” he panted, digging his fingers into Johnny’s flesh.

“Yes, yes,” Johnny gasped. “J-Just like that, ah…”

His sentence devolved into a moan as Gyro fucked him even faster, now lifting his hips to meet Johnny’s each time he came down. Gyro was entranced watching Johnny’s face. With his reddened lips parted thoughtlessly, Gyro could see the fatal points of his fangs. They were completely unsheathed and dripping saliva. Johnny had finally let go, and it was the most beautiful thing that Gyro had ever seen in his life.

“Johnny,” he groaned. “So good—“

He had to be careful, though. He could feel himself nearing the brink, but he couldn’t come before Johnny did. He needed to see his lover come undone above him, to feel him spasm and tighten as he came.

He started roughly jerking Johnny off in time with his thrusts, spreading precum over his cock to ease the slide of his palm. With the additional stimulation, Johnny simply couldn’t last any longer.

“Gy—!” Johnny’s cry was cut off as his orgasm hit, sending a shudder through his whole body that silenced him. His mouth was open, teeth glistening, but no more sound came out. He clenched so hard that Gyro had to stop moving for a moment to let him relax.

Once it had washed over him, Johnny collapsed forward against his partner, his face landing at the junction of Gyro’s neck and shoulder. Gyro felt the wetness of saliva against his neck and wondered if Johnny was going to bite him again.

For some unthinkable reason, that thought was the last ingredient in the molotov cocktail that Gyro had become: combined with the image of Johnny’s unraveling and the ecstatic heat of Johnny’s body tightening around his cock, it caused an internal explosion.

He buried himself deep in Johnny one last time and came with a heated whimper. Black fuzziness encroached on the the edges of his vision.

---

Gyro wasn’t sure how long it took him to come back around. He vaguely felt himself slip out of Johnny as Johnny moved off his lap. Then, he felt fingertips tenderly touch his cheek.

Gyro forced himself to open his eyes. Johnny was looking at him with some concern.

“You all right there, cowboy?” he asked. “Maybe we should’ve waited until you recovered a little more from the, um, blood loss earlier.”

Gyro’s hand automatically went to his neck, but he felt no lasting wetness there. Johnny didn’t bite him after all. Which was a good thing. Even though the idea of the opposite had made him come harder than ever before in his life… He decided not to tell Johnny about that.

“I’m fine,” Gyro said, giving Johnny a smile. “I mean, you’re right, but— I didn’t want to wait anymore.”

He pulled Johnny in for another kiss, much less intense now in the afterglow. Johnny seemed almost surprised, but quickly accepted the affection. They'd been kissing so much for so long that Gyro's lips were getting pretty numb, but he didn't care.

Eventually he got up, slightly wobbly, to throw out the condom and get a washcloth for the both of them to wipe off with. After the cleanup was taken care of, Gyro flopped back down on the bed and beckoned for Johnny to join him.

Johnny hesitated a little but soon acquiesced. He situated himself carefully at Gyro’s side like he didn’t quite remember how cuddling worked. Gyro was more than happy to remind him, though. He pulled him close by the shoulder.

“I didn’t hurt you at all, did I?” Gyro asked softly.

“No,” Johnny said. “I’ll probably be sore, but… it was worth it.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “Can’t remember the last time I came like that.”

Gyro beamed. He’d done what he set out to do and he was justifiably proud. “You weren’t lying about being a hell of a rider, nyohoho.”

Johnny snorted and smacked his chest playfully. “You should get some rest before you start saying more stupid shit.”

“Mm, if you say so…” That had taken a lot out of Gyro. Now that Johnny mentioned it, he could use another nap. But there was something he had to make sure of, first.

He wrapped his arms around Johnny and lowered his head. Johnny looked up at him in confusion. His hair was adorably messy, his cheeks still pink— Gyro might say he looked angelic, if he hadn’t known the sinful reason why. He placed his lips against Johnny’s forehead.

“Don’t go anywhere, okay?” he whispered. “I want you here when I wake up.”

Johnny stiffened for a moment, then relaxed again. He lay his head on Gyro’s chest and nodded minutely.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll be here.”

---

Gyro was asleep again in no time. Johnny considered teasing him for it— so you’re the type to fall asleep right after, huh?— but after the round they’d just had, he was pretty sure he had no right. He wasn’t lying when he said he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had an orgasm like that— he literally didn’t know how long it had been. He preferred not to think about it.

Johnny was still in shock. There’d been absolutely no predicting what had just happened. Less than twenty-four hours ago, Johnny was tied up somewhere, crazed with infernal hunger, in complete and utter despair. Then— Gyro. Just… Gyro.

Gyro, coming to the rescue, refusing to give up on Johnny even when he’d long given up on himself. Johnny couldn’t decide if he was stupid, crazy, brave, or all three. He had no idea what he’d done to deserve someone like that in his life.

But then again, Johnny had his fair share of stupid and crazy. He couldn’t believe what he told Gyro, for one. About his past— about Rina. She was like a diamond in his heart that he guarded jealously, his first true love crystallized permanently within him. He never told anyone about her, no matter what.

All things considered, it was absolutely idiotic of him to mention her. Talking with your current romantic interest about previous partners was for sure a deal breaker in a normal situation. But Johnny’s situation wasn’t normal. Not in the slightest.

He could only hope Gyro forgave him for that. And for everything else.

For once, Johnny thought the odds were pretty good. He would try to embrace what Gyro said and love him now so he had no regrets later. He would do as Gyro asked and let him help while he could.

Johnny nuzzled into Gyro’s chest and smiled. Let me help. Gyro didn’t know it— he couldn’t have known it. But that was exactly what Rina had said, too.

Notes:

Gyro, before Johnny bit him: "this better not awaken anything in me..."
narrator: "it did, in fact, awaken something in him"
notes:
>2005 was the year Twilight was released. 'Nuff said.

Chapter 16: home is a fire

Summary:

Gyro and Johnny start again, together.

Notes:

welcome back! This is the penultimate (second to last) chapter of Night Shift... it's been a really fun and wild ride! To everyone who has been here since the beginning: thank you! And to those of you who are just now joining us: thank you, as well! I love and appreciate you all. <3
More fantastic fanart coming through, this time by Mike Killuz: click here to check it out! I really can't say how grateful I am to him and everyone else who made fanart for this fic. Much love to you all!
ETA: MORE NIGHT SHIFT ART?? I'm losing my mind folks! Here's a lovely GyJo from Mika, who consistently does some of my favorite art for the ship!! Check it out here!! :D
Today's soundtrack is "Home is a Fire" by Death Cab for Cutie! (the last Death Cab song for this fic, I swear lmao)

As promised, Johnny was still there when Gyro awoke again. He smiled and stretched out comfortably, feeling his joints pop. Johnny looked up at him.

“Good morning,” he said. “Or good evening, I guess.”

“Mm, is it?” Gyro brushed a bit of hair away from Johnny’s face. He wanted a nice, clear view of those blue eyes. “Did you get any rest? I know you don’t need it, but don’t you ever miss it?”

“Sometimes,” Johnny said. “Not right now, though. I’m fine just watching you.”

As soon as that came out of his mouth, Johnny cringed. “Shit, that was like, so creepy. Sorry. Didn’t mean it like that.”

Gyro laughed. “I get it. There are some things that you just gotta get used to with a vampire boyfriend.”

Johnny’s brows furrowed. “About that… is this— I mean, do you want this to be… something?”

“Depends on what you mean by something,” Gyro said with a yawn.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend?” Johnny asked plainly.

Gyro cocked his head. “Funny. Usually you get the title of boyfriend and then say ‘I love you,’ but I like how we’re switching it up.”

Johnny scowled. Gyro kissed his head to soothe him.

“Yes, I want to be your boyfriend,” he said. “If that's what you want."

“I do,” Johnny said, but with a cautious note in his voice. “I just want you to know— it’s probably not gonna be like a… normal relationship. Can’t go on normal dates— can’t really meet your friends, or parents, or anything like that.”

“I don’t see why not,” Gyro said.

“Are you going to explain to them why they can’t see me in daylight?”

“The ‘allergic to sunlight’ excuse seemed to work pretty well.”

“See if that explains the ‘never-aging’ thing,” Johnny said dryly. “You know, people’s appearances change a lot in five, ten years. Not mine.”

“Ten years, huh?” Gyro asked teasingly. “You like me that much?”

Johnny’s eyes widened as he realize what he said. He stammered in embarrassment. “Y-You know, ten years isn’t that long to me—“

“It’s fine,” Gyro said, patting Johnny’s arm. “You’re special, Johnny. I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t see a future with you. Even one where you still look nineteen in thirty years.”

“Thirty years!?”

Gyro laughed at Johnny’s bug-eyed expression. Yeah, so maybe it was weird to be talking about that far in the future when they were literally one day in, but it didn’t feel weird to Gyro. In a handful of months, he and Johnny had already done things for one another that some much more established couples would never do.

Granted, most couples would never have to rescue their significant other from kidnapping by vampire hunters but… that was beside the point.

In any case, Johnny was right— things were different here than in other relationships. But that didn’t have to be a bad thing. They’d just have to tackle it head-on, as Gyro tackled most things.

“There’s something I gotta ask you, Johnny,” Gyro said. “Being with me— for whatever length of time— that doesn’t bother you?”

“Bother me how?”

“Well…” Gyro tried to put it gently. “Because of your wife…?”

Johnny sighed, like a part of him knew this was coming.

“It doesn’t feel like I’m betraying her, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “She… she knew what was going to happen, eventually. She told me herself that she didn’t want me to give up on love after she was gone.”

He looked at Gyro very seriously. “You should know that Rina will always have a place in my heart, though. Does that bother you?”

Gyro took a moment to think. He’d heard that you never forgot your first love… but Johnny was different. Rina wasn’t just any first love. He’d loved her for years— had been married to her— had watched her die. It was hard not to feel apprehensive when faced with the prospect of measuring up to that.

But she’d also been dead for over a hundred years now, and it seemed like she’d given her blessing to Johnny’s future relationships. Given the circumstances, wasn’t this the best case scenario?

“I know I can’t compete with her,” he said.

“You’re not competing with her,” Johnny said. “At least, it doesn’t feel that way.”

“Let me finish, caro,” Gyro said, patting Johnny. “I also know that things are a lot different now than they were when you were with her. The world is different, and you’re different too. So… if Rina’s in one place in your heart… maybe I can be in another part?”

He gave Johnny a hopeful smile. Johnny returned it, his gaze soft.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”

---

They spent most of Sunday evening lounging around in bed. Gyro claimed that it was so that the both of them could recover from the previous night’s events, but secretly he just didn’t want to give Johnny a reason to put his clothes back on.

Well— he said “secretly,” but he was pretty sure Johnny was well aware of his motives based on the way he stretched out atop Gyro’s covers, basically putting himself on display.

“Not sore at all, are you?” Gyro asked teasingly, running his fingers down Johnny’s naked back.

Johnny sighed. “Not really. I think the last of your blood is wearing off, though.”

Gyro lifted his brows. “Are you hungry?”

“No, not yet,” Johnny said. “I won’t be hungry again for a while, I think. I just don’t feel as… antsy, I guess.”

“…is that a good thing?”

“I’d say so,” Johnny said.

He rested his chin on the pillow, facing away from Gyro. Gyro heard him sigh again.

“I don’t like the way that drinking your blood makes me feel,” he murmured.

Gyro frowned. He let his hand rest at the small of Johnny’s back.

“How bad was it?” he asked.

“You don’t understand,” Johnny said with a slight shake of his head. “It wasn’t bad at all. It was… really, really good. That’s why I don’t like it. It’s like a drug that I don’t want to get addicted to. Better than most drugs, actually.”

“Oh.” Gyro had never done any drug harder than marijuana, so he wasn’t sure he could relate. He didn’t know what that rush felt like, let alone something even better.

How the hell does Johnny control himself on a regular basis? Gyro didn’t think he’d realized the depth of Johnny’s reliance on blood until now. It made him admire and respect Johnny all the more for not giving in more often.

“Yeah.” Once more, Johnny sighed gustily. He turned to look at Gyro again, his brows raised. “Gyro… I want you to promise me that you won’t let me do that to you again, okay?”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty about that,” Gyro said sternly. “It was my idea—“

“I know, that’s why I’m asking you to promise,” Johnny said. “And it ain’t because I’m afraid of Hot Pants or Diego or whatever— it’s ‘cause that ain’t the kind of person I wanna be with you. I need you to hold me to that.”

He pursed his lips. “It’s bad enough that I live here and can’t contribute shit… I don’t wanna become a literal parasite.”

“Johnny…” Gyro bent down to give him a tender kiss. “You’re the furthest thing from a parasite. Figuratively or literally.”

To that, Johnny just rolled his eyes. He didn’t argue, but Gyro still huffed at his expression of dismissal. He knew Johnny was refuting him in his head, and he couldn’t stand for it.

Gyro grabbed Johnny’s hip and flipped him onto his back. Johnny made a noise of protest— then another, higher-pitched noise as Gyro straddled him. However, when Gyro leaned over him, it was not to kiss him but to pin his shoulders down.

Gyro locked eyes with Johnny. Johnny stared back at him in confusion.

“Gyro…?” he started to ask.

“Listen to me, Johnny,” Gyro said. “When I met you, I was the loneliest and most burnt-out that I’ve ever been. I hated my job, I hated this city, and to be completely honest, I was kinda starting to hate myself.”

He dug his fingers into Johnny’s shoulders. “You turned that around for me. After meeting you, I started talking to people, making friends… just, enjoying life more than I have in the whole time since I moved to this country. If you think that’s an accident, you’re crazy.”

Now he bent down to give Johnny a quick kiss. Johnny still looked rather stunned for a moment afterward— but then, he smiled. It was one of those smiles that Gyro adored, where he looked like he was fighting it but couldn’t keep it at bay.

“I did introduce you to Sugar’s,” he said. “But, Gyro… the rest of that was your doing. Don’t forget to give yourself credit, too.”

Johnny snaked his hand around the back of Gyro’s head and pulled him down for another, longer kiss. Gyro allowed it— he had a hard time saying no to Johnny in the best of circumstances.

“I like you best when you go after what you want,” Johnny murmured against Gyro’s lips. “Like when you followed me into the alleyway behind Blackmore’s— or when you take detours— or when you got on Valkyrie’s back…”

Johnny broke the kiss long enough to brush a loose lock of Gyro’s hair behind his ear. His eyes got misty.

“When you told me over the phone that you were going to come find me,” he said. “Even though I didn’t want to— I don’t think I’ve ever loved you more.”

Gyro’s chest hurt with the squeeze of all the love inside him for Johnny. He cradled Johnny’s cheek and touched their foreheads together.

“Me neither,” he said.

Johnny closed his eyes and so did Gyro. They basked in each other’s warmth and presence for a time. Gyro was hard-pressed to think of another time when he had felt so happy and complete.

Eventually, Johnny put his arms around Gyro to pull him even closer. Gyro let their bodies press together as Johnny connected their lips again. The kiss was slow, but passionate all the same.

Before long, Gyro was leisurely grinding his hips on Johnny’s. He could hardly help it— something about Johnny’s sharp-toothed kiss excited him to no end. He hoped that would never change.

“You say you like it when I go for what I want,” he purred in Johnny’s ear. “Can you guess what I want right now?”

Johnny shivered, his hand moving down to grip Gyro’s ass. When he smiled, he showed his teeth.

“Go for it,” he said.

---

As nice as their weekend had become, it couldn’t last forever. Before either of them knew it, Gyro was getting ready for his shift again. He had half a mind to call in sick, but decided against it. He’d never get out of residency if he made a habit of that.

When he came out of the bathroom, Gyro was pleasantly surprised to smell coffee brewing. In the kitchen, he found Johnny at the counter adding sugar to a mug that must’ve been destined for him. He came up behind him and kissed the top of his head.

“Thanks, caro,” he said. “You’ve been my caffeine fairy since we met, huh?”

Johnny huffed out a short laugh. “Guess so.”

They both took a seat at the kitchen table. Gyro reached for Johnny’s hand while he sipped his coffee. It felt good to finally do all the things that he’d been secretly imagining for months now.

Johnny, however, had a mildly uneasy look on his face. He let Gyro take his hand, but the gesture was distant and unfocused.

“Do you have to go?” he asked.

Gyro rubbed his thumb across Johnny’s hand. What, is he clingy all of a sudden? Not that Gyro was complaining. It was just out of character for him.

“I mean… yeah, kind of. It is my job and everything,” he said. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Johnny circled his jaw slowly. “You’ll probably see HP again, won’t you?”

“…yeah, I guess,” Gyro said. He doubted that she up and quit in the past day and a half.

“Do you think she’ll figure out that… what I did?”

His gaze flicked to Gyro’s neck. Gyro touched two fingers to where Johnny had bitten him. The mark had faded considerably— thanks to Johnny’s magic spit, Gyro supposed. He’d thought it was all but invisible now.

“What, is it still noticeable?” he asked.

“It is to me,” Johnny said. “I don’t know if it’s just because I put it there, though…”

He looked pretty concerned either way. Gyro couldn’t really blame him: if HP found out that Johnny had drunk Gyro’s blood, even once, it was his neck on the line. Especially after Gyro had vehemently denied that such a thing would ever happen.

“I’ll put some concealer on it,” Gyro said. He stood up and kissed Johnny’s forehead. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s my line,” Johnny grumbled.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, Gyro returned to the kitchen and stretched his neck to let Johnny examine it. He’d covered up the tiny spots with as much makeup as he could without it looking unnatural. In his opinion there was no way that even the discerning HP would be able to tell what had happened, but he wanted to get Johnny’s approval anyway, if only to assuage his fears.

“Better?” he asked.

Johnny looked him up and down with furrowed brows.

“Better,” he said.

“Good,” Gyro said. He had to consciously keep himself from rubbing his neck now that the concealer was on. “I should be good— unless she decides to splash me with holy water again.”

It was a joke, but Johnny didn’t look amused. Gyro sighed.

“It’ll be okay, Johnny, I swear,” he said. “I don’t want you to agonize over it.”

“What else is there to do?” Johnny said, a weary note to his voice.

Gyro decided to let that question stay rhetorical. He tilted Johnny’s chin up to place a quick kiss on his lips. The microwave clock read 1:30— he was getting dangerously close to late.

“I gotta go,” he said. “I’ll leave the apartment keys with you, in case you want to go anywhere.” He’d have to ask for another set from his landlord in the upcoming week.

“No need,” Johnny said. “I don’t have any plans.”

“Well… just in case,” Gyro said. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye,” Johnny said.

There was a slight wash of melancholy to his voice that Gyro wished he could stick around to paint over, but… duty called, unfortunately. He was expected at the hospital, and it certainly wouldn’t make Wekapipo happy if he called off thirty minutes before his shift.

He made it to the hospital with a mere five minutes to spare, but he wasn’t late and that was all that mattered. The first half of his shift went well (although Gyro found himself stealing away to the bathroom every chance he got to make sure his marks were still covered). Usually the only time he saw HP was at lunch, so he just had to make it to then.

However, when he walked into the break room halfway through his shift, the only one there was Lucy. She looked up at Gyro with a gentle, yet hesitant smile… at which point Gyro realized he forgot to tell her about the weekend.

“Lucy!” He ran up and grabbed a chair next to her. “I have good news.”

Lucy immediately perked up. “You found Johnny?”

“Yeah! He came home,” Gyro said. “And we— well, we worked things out.”

He laughed awkwardly. “We’re… kind of a thing now, I guess?”

Lucy gasped. “Gyro, that’s awesome! I’m so happy for you!”

She looked so happy that it was like she could hardly contain herself, actually. Gyro was a little surprised that she’d become so invested in this… but then again, she’d come to know Johnny in her own way, too.

“So what happened?” she asked, practically bouncing in her seat. “I wanna know everything!”

Yeah… that’s not happening, Gyro thought. He knew that he had to keep Johnny’s secret, and he knew HP wouldn’t appreciate her cover being blown either.

“It’s not very exciting,” he said. “We talked on the phone for a little and he came home. It was all just a big misunderstanding in the end.”

It’s technically the truth, he thought. They did talk on the phone, and it was a misunderstanding after all… albeit one of much larger proportions than Gyro implied.

Lucy rested her head on her palm with a dreamy smile and a sigh. “All’s well that ends well.”

“Heh, yup,” Gyro said.

“It’s disappointing that HP isn’t here today,” Lucy said. “She doesn’t act like it, but I know she was really concerned about you. She was always asking me, ‘do you think Gyro’s acting different’ and ‘do you think Johnny will come back after all’ and stuff like that.”

Gyro clenched his back teeth. Damn… HP was getting intel from Lucy. Nothing he could do about that now, though. Something else Lucy said interested him more.

“So HP’s not here today, huh?” he asked. “She call in sick or what?”

“I’m not sure,” Lucy said, tapping her chin. “I think she said something about having plans this weekend, so… she might be on vacation.”

Johnny and I were her “plans” this weekend, Gyro thought, somewhat bitterly. Still— at least he didn’t have to worry about his neck marks today. That would make Johnny feel better, if nothing else.

Gyro put HP out of his head as he went about the rest of his day. By the time he went home, she was almost entirely forgotten— except for when he told Johnny that there was nothing to worry about.

But then… HP didn’t come in the next day, either. Or the next. In fact, she didn’t come in for the rest of the week.

Gyro started to get a little worried. As frustrated as he was with her for the shit she pulled, he didn’t actually wish any harm on her. He was still slow to believe that Diego was actually one of the good guys; was it possible that he’d turned on her? He thought about calling her to check in, but Johnny made it clear that he thought that’d be a bad idea.

“Messing with Diego is a one-way ticket to hell,” he said. “He’s a born backstabber. I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.”

“You say that like you know from experience,” Gyro said, scratching his chin. “You guys have some sort of history or something…?”

Johnny scowled at that, which alone spoke volumes. “Enough to know that HP’s making a big mistake. But that’s none of our business.”

Doing nothing didn’t sit well with Gyro. But what was he supposed to do? He didn’t know anything concrete about HP. He didn’t even know her real name (assuming that her parents weren’t crazy enough to actually name her “Hot Pants”). He’d just have to trust that she could handle herself against a vampire like Diego. She certainly gave the impression that she could.

The end of Friday night marked the beginning of Gyro’s weekend. He left the hospital in a hurry, looking forward to his first proper weekend with Johnny. Although it’d be far from the first weekend he’d spent hanging out with Johnny, it’d be the first where they could do all the things Gyro had dreamt of: holding hands, kissing, having sex…

In short, it would be a whole new experience. He was in such a tizzy thinking about it that he didn’t notice a black car following him home.

Upon entering the apartment, he called to Johnny and got a response from the kitchen. Putting his stuff down, Gyro wandered over to find Johnny stocking the back shelf of his fridge with familiar red bags. A legal pad and pen sat on the table, with a date written and a tally started.

“Oh, I didn’t know you went in to the hospital today,” Gyro said. “You didn’t say hi or anything.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Considering that we’re kinda running a criminal operation here, I thought it was best not to obviously implicate you.”

“But I mi-i-issed you,” Gyro said in a faux-complaining voice.

He threw his arms around Johnny’s shoulders, kissing his head. Johnny scowled, but he intertwined his fingers with Gyro’s at the same time so Gyro knew he wasn’t really annoyed. Gyro laughed softly and gave him more kisses, just to rile him up more. And because it felt like he had a surplus after all the time he’d waited.

“Jesus, Gyro,” Johnny muttered as Gyro mussed his hair. “You might just be the most affectionate man I’ve ever met.”

Gyro shrugged. “Blame my old man. He’s allergic to affection.”

Johnny tsked. “Daddy issues.”

“Ew, no,” Gyro said. “That’s got connotations. Anyway, I don’t hate my dad, I just don’t agree with him.”

“Does anyone agree with their dad?” Johnny mused.

“No one between the ages of thirteen and thirty.”

Before Johnny could close the fridge door, Gyro poked his head in to survey its (non-blood) contents. It’d probably be a good idea to eat something substantial and not from the hospital cafeteria for once. The selection was pretty scarce, however; Gyro hadn’t gone grocery shopping in… well, he didn’t know how long. He’d been occupied with other things.

“Nothing good,” he declared dejectedly.

“C’mon, we could scrape something together,” Johnny said. “Look, you got some veggies n’ shit… Ain’t you ever had a good stew before?”

Gyro made a face. “Us Italians aren’t known for our… stew.”

“Well, y’ain’t in Italy right now,” Johnny said. “Get used to it.”

A smile crept up on Gyro’s face. “More like, get use-stewed it, eh?”

He proudly showed the full extent of his grills to Johnny. Since English wasn’t his first language, he felt especially proud of any pun he could come up with in it. “Ehhhh?”

Johnny exhaled slowly and closed the fridge door. He didn’t look at Gyro.

“That was pretty good, Gyro,” he said. “Very funny.”

His voice was completely flat, but Gyro pumped his fist anyway. Johnny just had a flat affect sometimes— he totally knocked it out of the park with that one.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Johnny’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, his brows furrowing. Even a week later, he was still a bit on edge about security. Gyro patted his shoulder to soothe him.

“Must be a package or something,” he said. “Hey, write down that gag while I go get it, will ya?”

“Sure thing,” Johnny said. “I’ll put aside all the important rationing work I was doing to record your puns ASAP."

“Thanks!” Gyro chirped. “Be right back.”

He didn’t see Johnny shake his head as he headed off to answer the door. Having convinced himself that it was a delivery, he didn’t look through the peephole before opening it.

“Ciao,” he said. “How can I—“

Gyro stopped as it hit him who was standing there. His eyes widened.

It was Hot Pants.

Notes:

owo what's this?? is this story over or not?!? Stay tuned for the finale to find out! 😘thanks for reading!

Chapter 17: lost but not all gone

Summary:

Things that have been lost are found again.

Notes:

Wow... this is the final chapter of Night Shift... it's kind of hard to believe, isn't it? This is my longest published fic to date and it's really been full of ups and downs! Thank you to everyone who accompanied me on this journey. <3
The final chapter song is "Lost But Not All Gone" by the Dear Hunter.

“Hey,” HP said. “We—“

Gyro slammed the door shut and locked it. He ran back to the kitchen, where Johnny was sitting at the table. Johnny saw his panicked expression and immediately sat up straighter.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It’s her,” Gyro said. “Hot Pants. She’s outside our door.”

“What?” Johnny’s face turned white. “What the fuck does she want?”

“I don’t know, I slammed the door on her!”

“She didn’t say anything?”

“Johnny, I wasn’t about to let her get in here and hurt you—“

“Me? What about you?”

Gyro’s phone rang. Gyro yanked it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID: Hot Pants, unsurprisingly.

“Shit, she’s calling me,” he hissed. “Should I answer?”

“No! Wait— yes!” Johnny said. “We need to find out what she wants— hold on, come over here—“

“Is that a yes or a no?” Gyro asked, stricken.

“Yes!” Johnny reached across the table and grabbed Gyro’s wrist, pulling him closer. “Answer it before it goes to voicemail!”

“Okay, okay!” Gyro answered the call, hit the speaker button, and put his phone on the table.

“Hello?” HP’s voice came across tinny over the speakers. “Gyro?”

“What the fuck do you want?” Gyro snapped. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve coming here, you know.”

“I admit that I should have expected this reception,” HP said with a sigh. “I’m not here to cause trouble. I have something that may be of interest to you.”

“As if I’m gonna fall for that again!” Gyro said. “Ugh— tell her to go eat shit, Johnny.”

“What? Tell her yourself.”

“I’m alone and I don’t have any weapons,” HP said. “What more do you want?”

“Where’s Diego?” Johnny asked. “How do we know he’s not waiting to ambush us as soon as we open the door?”

“Am I my vampire’s keeper?” HP asked dryly. “I don’t know where he is. He can’t come in your house without being invited anyway, you know that.”

Gyro worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked at Johnny. “The two of us should be able to take her, right? If things go south…”

“She might not have any weapons, but I don’t believe that she doesn’t have a crucifix hidden on her somewhere,” Johnny said.

“I can hear you, you know,” HP said flatly. “What if I told you I was here to apologize?”

Both Gyro and Johnny stared at the phone in disbelief as if it was HP herself.

“You… don’t seem like the type to apologize,” Gyro said. 

“That’s because I’m not the type to make mistakes,” HP said. “But when I do, I own up to them. And I make it right when I can.”

“I’d like to see you try to make kidnapping both of us right,” Gyro muttered. “Especially with the shit you did to Johnny.”

“Well, I’m going to do my best,” HP said, evidently not discouraged in the slightest. “When I said I had something for you, I meant that I have something for Johnny. Something that I had to pull a lot of strings to get.”

Johnny furrowed his brows. “What is it?”

“Let me in and I’ll show you,” HP said.

The call ended, hung up from HP’s end. Johnny sat back in his chair, his lips pursed. Gyro ran his fingers through his hair. How were they to know that the thing she had for Johnny wasn't a stake for his heart? 

“Maybe if we just ignore her she’ll go away,” he said.

“No,” Johnny said. “Let her in.”

Gyro gaped at him. “What? You want me to let her in?! Johnny, you’re the kind of thing that she hunts!”

“I can’t blame her for that,” Johnny said. His face was stony. “But she won’t get the drop on us this time. We’ve got the upper hand.”

He rolled over to the fridge. Gyro watched, stunned, as he reached inside and took out a bag of blood. Johnny’s fangs extended as he opened his mouth. He tore into the bag with a grim, yet determined look on his face. Gyro swallowed thickly as Johnny drained the thing in mere seconds.

When he was finished, Johnny tossed the empty bag aside and licked his teeth. His eyes had a renewed fire in them. Gyro’s breath hitched.

“Let her in,” Johnny repeated. “I dare her to try and take me on. I promise I won’t make it easy if she does.”

Gyro exhaled, then nodded. He went to the door and undid the locks. Johnny trailed a short distance behind him, just in case. Finally, Gyro opened the door.

HP was still standing there, looking more bored than anything else. She was dressed in her all-black getup like before, sunglasses and all, but now that Gyro looked at her he noticed that she had a briefcase in hand and no crossbow on her back. She really did seem disarmed.

“Is it safe to assume that you’re allowing me in?” she asked.

“Depends,” Gyro said. He jerked his head towards the case. “What’s in there?”

“Papers,” HP said. “You can look inside if you want.”

Gyro looked back to Johnny, who shook his head. “…no need.”

He stepped aside to let her in. HP dipped her head and passed by him. Gyro made sure to close, lock, and bolt the door after her. Just in case.

Johnny didn’t move while HP walked up to him, although his hands were curled tight around the wheels of his chair. He stared her down, his eyes as intense as Gyro had ever seen them. HP stopped in front of him. Gyro hovered a few feet away, unable to take his eyes off the two of them. 

“Johnny Joestar,” she said. “I was wrong about you, it seems.”

Johnny's face didn't change in the slightest; he didn't even blink. “Seems so."

“I apologize for what I put you through. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Johnny didn’t say anything. Gyro shifted his weight uneasily. He half-expected Johnny to launch out of his chair and tackle her to the ground. But he didn’t move.

HP must’ve had nerves of steel, because she stood there and endured Johnny’s glare much longer than Gyro would’ve been able to. Finally, Johnny spoke up.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he said. “I am not a human killer. But if you so much as ever lay a finger on Gyro again, I will tear your throat out with my own teeth.”

A shiver ran up Gyro’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear or arousal. Probably both. Johnny sounded really sexy when he was being all threatening, especially on Gyro’s behalf. But Gyro sure was glad that he was not the one on the receiving end of such threats, because he had no doubt that Johnny could and would do what he promised.

“Fair,” HP said. “You should know that it’s my sworn oath to destroy any supernatural enemies to humanity. Don’t make yourself an enemy of humanity, and we won’t have a problem.”

To Gyro’s surprise, Johnny didn’t bristle at this whatsoever. He only nodded once, firmly.

“Then we understand each other,” he said.

HP returned the nod. “I believe we do.”

With that, Johnny turned and wheeled back into the kitchen. HP looked back at Gyro for a brief moment. Gyro gestured for her to follow him, which she did.

This was a strange assembly: a 150-year-old vampire, a vampire hunter, and a human, sitting around the table like it was a normal Saturday morning. Gyro always knew he was a weird guy, but damn if he wasn’t outclassed right now by his companions. Part of him wanted to offer HP something to eat or drink just because it couldn’t get any weirder, but he held off.

“To start off, I wanted to give you an update,” HP said. “Diego and I have a new lead on Dio. We’re going to pursue it as soon as possible.”

She looked at Gyro. “That means I’m quitting my job at the hospital. I’m trusting you not to blow my cover.”

“Sure, but… why are you telling us this?” Gyro asked. “We’ve never had any stake in this Dio business.”

“That may be so, but it’s important that you let me know if you hear any word of him,” HP said. “If he catches wind that this is Johnny’s territory— regardless of whether or not it actually is— he may try to win you over to his side.”

“Unlikely,” Johnny said, straight-faced. “I hate Dio ten times more than I hate Diego. And that’s saying something.”

“Then he may try to kill you to take it over,” HP said. “The point is, keep your eyes and ears open.”

Gyro groaned. “And here I thought we were going to live a peaceful life from here on out.”

Surprisingly, HP laughed a little at that. At least, Gyro thought that the snort she made was a laugh.

“I know you, Gyro,” she said. “A peaceful life was never going to be enough to satisfy you.”

That made Gyro want to smile despite himself. She was probably right. He wouldn’t have ended up with Johnny if that weren’t the case. Because of that he was happy to say that no, he wanted more than just to live comfortably and quietly. At the very least, he’d accepted that he probably wouldn’t live quietly from now on.

Gyro put his hand over Johnny’s on the table. “Damn straight,” he said.

Johnny rolled his eyes hard, but still he smiled a bit. He turned his hand over so his palm was touching Gyro's, then turned his attention back to HP. 

“You said you had something you wanted to give me?” he asked.

HP nodded, then lifted her briefcase off the floor and put it on the table. She opened it and took a manila envelope out from inside, which she slid across the table to Johnny.

Johnny frowned as he drew it closer to himself. He turned it over, examining it, but there were no marks on the outside.

“What’s this?” he asked. He picked it up, weighing it in his hands. “It’s kind of heavy…”

“It’s you,” HP said. 

Johnny and Gyro stared at her, uncomprehending. HP sighed.

“Just open it,” she said.

Johnny did so, undoing the brad holding the envelope closed and sliding the contents out. The first one to come out was a tiny plastic square. Gyro was too far away to see what it was, but when Johnny picked it up, his eyes widened.

“This… how…?” he said. He looked up at HP. “How did you get this?”

“I know people who know people,” HP said.

“What is it?” Gyro asked.

He leaned over the table to see what Johnny had in his hands. He, too, was stunned to see what HP had brought them: it was a driver’s license with Johnny’s name on it.

“What the…?” Gyro took the license out of Johnny’s white-knuckled grip and turned it over to look at it. If it was fake, it was certainly a good one… maybe the best Gyro had ever seen.

“Hey, give that back!” Johnny snatched it back out of Gyro’s hands and cradled it protectively to his chest. Gyro let it go, turning to HP now instead.

“Where’d you get that?” he asked. “It looks super real.”

“That’s because it is real,” HP said. “Everything in there is. My organization has the occasional need to fabricate identities for operatives, so we have connections.”

“Man… this is like, some actual spy shit!” Gyro pulled out some more papers from the folder. There was a birth certificate, a passport, a social security card… Not a single one of them looked even remotely fabricated. 

"This is your new life, Johnny," HP said with the utmost gravity. "Everything needed to establish your identity as a U.S. citizen is in that folder. We've even fabricated school records, previous addresses, and a few official photos. You're going to want to familiarize yourself with all of this— and don't lose it, for God's sake." 

Your new life... The more Gyro looked through the envelope's contents, the more in awe he was. HP had really gone the full mile. It was everything that Johnny lamented not having anymore— not out of sentimentality, but out of practicality.

For years Johnny had been a non-person, a living ghost. Now... he existed again. 

He looked over at Johnny. He was still clutching the driver’s license, staring at it like he thought it might disappear if he took his eyes off of it for a second. Gyro could only imagine what was going through his head right now, what things he must be feeling.

“I know over the years you’ve probably used your charisma for most things,” HP went on. “But the world is digital now, and as far as I know charm doesn’t work over the internet, so you’re probably going to need these if you want to travel, find a job, open a bank account… do most things, really.”

“Yeah, I…” Johnny trailed off, like he didn’t know what to say. He was starting to look a little choked up, his cheeks flushing and his eyes getting watery. Gyro put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

Hot Pants pushed her shades up to sit on her head. She fixed Johnny with a serious look, her dark eyes not wavering from him for a second. Gyro found himself holding his breath for reasons not entirely clear to him.

“This is my apology,” she said. “Do you accept it?”

Johnny took a deep breath to compose himself. He nodded stiffly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Apology accepted.”

HP did something then that Gyro had never seen her do up to that point: she smiled. A real, crinkly-eyed smile. She had dimples, which Gyro never would’ve guessed. When Johnny smiled back at her, Gyro had a not-insignificant suspicion that he was dreaming. The two most stoic people he knew, grinning like goofs at each other in his kitchen…?

Eventually, HP cleared her throat, as if she caught herself. She put her shades back down and resumed her serious demeanor.

“Gyro, I apologize to you as well,” she said. “Although I was just trying to save your life, so I’m not as sorry.”

Gyro shrugged. He knew better than to ask for any more from her. “I’ll accept it anyway, I guess.”

He gave HP his most serious glower. “But if you so much as touch Johnny again, I’ll—“

“I’d like to see you try,” HP cut him off. “But the sentiment is cute.”

She closed her briefcase and stood up. Gyro pressed his lips together hard, not happy to be interrupted in middle of his tough-guy speech— but one glance back at Johnny, still looking through his new documents with a plain sense of wonder, pacified him. It didn’t look like he was listening much anyway.

“I have to go,” HP said. “Gyro, you have my number if any pertinent information comes up or if you get into any shit. Can’t guarantee I’ll be there right away, but I’ll do my best.”

“Uh, thanks,” Gyro said. “I’ll show you out.”

He led HP back to the door, which he unlocked for her. Johnny stayed at the kitchen table. Once they were out of earshot, Gyro sighed.

“This is big for Johnny, you know,” he said. “Is there some ulterior motive to this that I should know about?”

“No,” HP said. “Unless trying to reintegrate Johnny back into society so that he’s less prone to cause trouble counts as ulterior.”

“Johnny doesn't need to be put on a leash,” Gyro said firmly. “If you knew him like I did—“

“How much do you really know Johnny?" HP shot back as they arrived at the door. 

Gyro paused, frowning. "What are you trying to imply?"

"He is over a century old." HP lowered her shades to peer at Gyro. “You should know— while I was doing my research on Johnny, I found something interesting.”

“Oh?” Interesting, huh? Gyro unlocked the door, trying not to betray his curiosity. “And that is…?”

“A marriage certificate,” HP said. “From 1892."

HP was looking at him like she expected him to be taken aback by that information, but Gyro actually felt relieved. If that was the worst secret that Johnny had... well, Gyro wasn't concerned. It was true that he couldn't know everything about Johnny's hundred and fifty years, but he knew the things that mattered. 

“I already know about that," he said. "Johnny told me.”

For the first time tonight— perhaps for the first time in all the time Gyro had known her— HP looked truly surprised. She blinked a few times, then put her shades back up. Gyro almost felt smug.

“Ah,” she said. "I... may have been too quick to judge, then." 

Gyro gave a tired laugh at that. “Yeah, maybe.”

He opened the door and gestured. HP lifted her head and walked out. She cast one last glance over her shoulder at Gyro. 

“We’ll meet again,” she said.

“I have no doubt of it,” Gyro said. “Bye, Hot Pants. Don’t get killed by vampires.”

HP arched a brow at the use of her “full name,” but then nodded. “Same to you. Bye, Gyro.”

Gyro closed the door behind her, then exhaled forcefully. In the end he’d rather have HP as a friend than an enemy, but… whew. That was a lot.

He went back to the kitchen where, in a short time, Johnny had taken all of the documents out of the envelope and spread them across the table. He was now looking over all of them with his hands folded in front of his face. He didn’t even look up at Gyro when he walked in.

Gyro put his hands on his hips. “Guess it’s a good thing we let her in, eh?”

Johnny blinked a few times, then nodded. Gyro came around to stand behind his wheelchair and loop his arms around Johnny’s neck.

“You okay, caro?” he asked softly.

Johnny took a deep, shuddering breath. “Gyro, I…”

He stopped and dropped his chin. Gyro let him go to crouch at the side of his chair, trying to get a glimpse of his face. He saw tears drip down Johnny’s cheeks, saw his lips tremble violently.

“I’m a person again,” Johnny said finally. “I can have a life…”

He finally looked up at Gyro. Although he was crying, he was smiling wider than Gyro had ever seen. The full array of his white teeth were visible, fangs and all.

“We can have a life,” he said.

Gyro smiled back so hard his cheeks hurt. He, too, felt his eyes getting a bit misty.

“Yeah,” he said. “We can.”

Johnny put his hands on either side of Gyro’s face and kissed him fiercely. Their lips could barely connect, too occupied with smiling. Gyro tasted the salt of Johnny’s tears, but to him they were sweet.

Although the sun outside couldn’t be allowed inside their apartment, the room still managed to be filled with light. As Gyro tenderly touched his forehead to Johnny’s, he had a thought that he never imagined he would think:

Thank God for the night shift.

Notes:

aaaaand that's all, folks! Thank you all so much for reading. I hope you liked it!
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