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It had been a few days since Dio’s fight with Jonathan in the entrance hall. George Joestar never did end up dealing out the punishment he had promised both of them, but that was likely due to the sudden and subsequent death of a certain mutt.
“I know that you two fought recently… Understand that I do not condone JoJo’s actions. To beat a man while he is down is unseemly, and JoJo will be apologizing to you. But as it stands, for now, I must ask that you be gentle with him.”
“I understand, sir.”
Dio scoffed at the memory, continuing his easy walk down the open country pathway. “‘Be gentle.’”
As if gentleness hadn’t been a luxury guaranteed to Jonathan at birth. Dario Brando had still seen it fit to punish Dio when his mother died, and that was for the mere fault of simply existing . JoJo might think his father hard on him, but George Joestar was nothing but a soft fool, and his son nothing but a pampered brat.
A pampered brat who had still managed to beat Dio to the ground.
Dio felt his jaw clench and his hands tighten in his pockets.
No. Calm down.
Dio forced himself to relax, uncurling his fists and easing his tightened jaw. He had already learned from that fight that he needed to control his temper. And already evened the score by killing JoJo’s stupid mutt. With how disgustingly attached JoJo had been to that thing, that more than made up for any humiliation inflicted, or even any punishments averted as a result.
“What to do now though…?” Dio murmured to himself.
Actively looking to tear JoJo down was now out of the question. Dio had pushed JoJo to his limits, and instead of snapping in two, JoJo had snapped back. Dio needed to change tactics. Endearing himself to the other boy, just as he had done with everyone else, would likely be the next best course of action.
Of course, the shift would not be without its difficulties. Dio despised the thought of even pretending friendship with the likes of JoJo, but he would gladly bear it for the sake of his ultimate goal. No, the difficulty primarily lay in undoing JoJo’s animosity towards him. Dio had greatly underestimated JoJo’s capacity for vengefulness, and trust was such a notoriously fragile thing…
JoJo had certainly not been making the change in tactics any easier. Dio had hardly seen the other boy since their last fight. JoJo seemed to be going out of his way to avoid him. Not like he hadn’t clearly been making those same efforts before now, but JoJo barely even showed up to meals anymore. Dio would see JoJo run off outside everyday, but he had yet to catch a glimpse of him at any of his usual hiding spots.
As he passed by the tree JoJo used to frequent, with no sign of JoJo in sight, Dio huffed in annoyance. “I know he was attached to that beast, but just how long does he intend to mope about it?”
He could easily find JoJo himself, or use his influence over the other boys in town to hunt down JoJo’s new hideouts, and with how damn long it was taking JoJo to get over himself, Dio was about ready to throw caution to the wind and do just that. What need had he to be cautious, anyway?
(The memory of JoJo’s righteous fury bit at the back of Dio’s mind, and he promptly silenced it).
“Oi, Dio!”
At the sound of his name, Dio paused his stride and saw a group of his followers running down the path towards him. A few of them, he noted with mild interest, were nursing bruises and bloody noses.
The first of them to make it to Dio had a black eye in addition to the blood pouring over his hand, which he had pressed up beneath his nose. “Cor blimey, he’s turned into a real maniac…!”
“Used to not be able to hit worth a damn!” another boy exclaimed, a magnificent bruise decorating the side of his face.
“But we still got ‘im!” a third boy chimed in vindictively.
“Got who?” Dio asked.
“JoJo, of course!”
“JoJo…” Dio had suspected as much.
“We found him down the river,” one of the group explained. “He just up and attacked us, the bloody maniac…!”
“We beat ‘im, though!” someone else cut in. “That stupid uppity rich boy still can’t win a fight!”
Dio ignored the comment. The wheels in his mind were turning.
“Where is JoJo now?” he asked with practiced nonchalance.
Everyone’s fingers pointed back the way they had come. “Where we left ‘im, ‘round where the river flows behind that fancy mansion of ‘is. ‘e’s probably lickin’ his wounds if ‘e isn’t passed out by now.”
Dio strode forward, and the group parted like the Red Sea to Moses, allowing him to continue his way down the path.
“He’s gotten a lot stronger, Dio!” one of the group called to him. “You should be careful!”
“Don’t be stupid...!” another snapped. “As if anyone could beat Dio …! Least of all JoJo!”
Dio felt his hands curl into fists again. He forced himself to keep his stride even and unhurried.
“Yeah, and in the state we left ‘im, JoJo ain’t gonna be beatin’ anyone .”
“Dio’s got this, easy! Come on, let’s go!”
The sound of running footsteps and rowdy talk faded away, signalling the group’s exit. Dio allowed himself an irritated scoff.
It did not take Dio long to find JoJo. He saw the blood first, a trail of it, decorating the riverbank with scattered smears of crimson. And at the end of the trail, not at all far from where the trail started, lay JoJo.
Stepping off the path and onto the grass, Dio approached the fallen Joestar heir. At a glance, JoJo looked like a dead man. Dio had seen plenty of those in the slums of London, hidden curled up in alley corners, propped up against the wall behind pubs, or simply lying prone against the cobblestones, just like JoJo did now in the grass. It was immediately obvious that JoJo was alive though, if the laboured breathing was any indication.
Pity.
The grass rustled beneath Dio’s feet as he approached. JoJo coughed and turned his head just in time to see the other boy standing over him.
“Dio…” Though hoarsely spoken, the name came out sounding like a bitter curse. “Come to kick me while I’m down? You would do that, wouldn’t you…? Damn… coward…”
A few more coughs sent another light spray of blood spattering against the grass. JoJo groaned.
God , how badly Dio wanted to confirm JoJo’s bitter words. On the ground, face covered in blood and bruises, fancy clothes torn and dirtied, literally crawling - throughout all the torments Dio had put him through, JoJo had never looked more pathetic and beaten than he did right now. And here Dio was, in the perfect position to revel in the younger boy’s misery, to dig his heel into his back and say, “And here I thought only dogs crawled on all fours.”
But…
“That would be unseemly,” Dio said.
“You would know,” JoJo retorted. He grunted as he attempted to get his arms under him and push himself up, only for his arms to fail him and send his face crashing back into the dirt.
JoJo’s body began to shake. His hands clenched at the grass, soft, muffled sounds leaving him in spite of whatever efforts he might have been making to hide them. Dio simply looked down at him impassively. Then, he bent down and grabbed Jonathan by the arm.
“Wh– Hey…! What are you–?!”
Ignoring JoJo’s protests, Dio slung JoJo’s arm over his shoulder.
“Dio, what do you think you’re–?!” JoJo began to cough again.
“Helping you back home, is that all right?” Dio replied coolly.
He started towards the nearby bridge, which would allow them to cross the river and cut across the field to reach the mansion. JoJo recovered from his cough and began to struggle against Dio’s hold.
“Dio… Let go of me…!”
They reached the bridge and made their way across.
“I said let go!”
Dio tightened his grip on JoJo’s arm and continued their trek towards the mansion.
“Dio, let g–!” More coughing, this time severe enough for JoJo to sag significantly in Dio’s hold, forcing them to a stop.
“What?” Dio looked at JoJo with no small amount of annoyance. “Are you planning on crawling the rest of the way?”
JoJo did not answer immediately, his whole body shaking with the force of coughing up more blood onto the grass. As Dio watched, though, the coughing morphed into those same muffled sounds JoJo had been making on the riverbank only a minute or two ago. Dio could not make out his face, but JoJo’s body continued to shake.
“...You never liked Danny,” JoJo said at length, after his shaking had subsided a bit, voice low and barely audible.
“...No, I didn’t,” Dio admitted after a calculated pause. “What of it?”
“You killed him, Dio…!” JoJo turned his head to glare at him, frantic fury no less palpable through the tears running down his face. “I know you did, I know it was you, you killed him!”
Dio met JoJo’s teary gaze with a carefully crafted mask of easy benevolence. “JoJo… That is rather unfair of you.”
In an instant, the fire in JoJo’s eyes was doused with a startled uncertainty. “What...?”
“So I didn’t like your dog,” Dio continued sensibly. “For that reason alone you think me capable of committing such a cruel act?”
JoJo averted his gaze. “Well, I…”
Dio sighed in disappointment. “ Really , JoJo.”
He forced JoJo to straighten up, leaving whatever excuses or retorts the latter might have said to die wordlessly as Dio resumed their walk.
Everything was quiet for a stretch. The grass crunched beneath their feet, a soft wind rustled past the nearby trees, JoJo’s breathing remained laboured and audible, broken only by the occasional cough, but no words passed between the two of them. Dio just kept his sights set on the mansion, trying to ignore how heavy JoJo was beginning to feel against his shoulder.
At around halfway to their destination, Dio glanced at Jonathan. The younger boy appeared lost in thought, blood and tear stained face a picture of conflicting emotions.
Dio returned his sights to the mansion. “So, what happened?”
“Huh?”
“You’re hardly the type to get into fights needlessly.”
Silence. Dio could see JoJo out of the corner of his eye, staring at him with a puzzled frown.
“...Why are you doing this, Dio?” JoJo finally asked.
“Whatever do you mean?”
“This is another one of your tricks, isn’t it?” The accusation, though bitter, held no bite to it, weighed down instead by weariness and resignation. “You’re planning to humiliate me somehow, to drag me down even further.”
Dio shook his head. “Still so unfair, JoJo. I saw you were in need and chose to help you. Is that really so hard to believe?”
“Well–“
“What, am I not allowed to show even the barest amount of humanity?” Dio asked, allowing a touch of bitterness in his own voice.
“No…!” JoJo cried. “I-I mean yes, but– No, that’s not what I…”
The words trailed off. Jonathan looked more confused and conflicted than ever. Dio held back a smirk, and the rest of the walk was spent in silence.
When they finally approached the front of the mansion, JoJo began to pull back. “Wait...”
Dio looked at him in annoyance. “What is it now?”
“Father,” JoJo said quietly, not meeting Dio’s gaze. “I don’t want him to see me like this.”
It would have been so easy to mock JoJo. Being so caught up in the loss of a dog that he had actually forgotten about the whereabouts of his own father? It was beyond pathetic.
“He’s not here, remember?” Dio said. “He went out of town yesterday to meet with a potential business partner and won’t be back for another two days. Come on…”
He nudged JoJo forward, and after a few hesitant stumbles, JoJo allowed Dio to lead him to and through the front door, where they were soon greeted by a very concerned staff. JoJo attempted to wave them all off, claiming to be “just fine” and other pointless self-denying rubbish. Dio simply asked that a bowl of warm water be brought to JoJo’s room as he brushed past them and helped JoJo make his way up the stairs.
When they got to JoJo’s room, Dio kicked the desk chair out from in front of JoJo’s desk and dropped the other boy into it. JoJo groaned, leaning forward with his arms wrapped around his abdomen, and Dio removed his jacket, tossing it onto the desk beside the two of them.
“...I... don’t think you answered my question earlier.”
Dio glanced up from rolling up his shirt sleeves to meet a searching blue gaze.
“Why are you helping me, Dio?” JoJo asked, the question genuine but guarded.
“Do you not want me to, JoJo?” Dio responded easily.
The blue gaze dropped back down to the floor. “I don’t know…”
JoJo’s arms tightened around his middle. The frown on his face was marred by a deep discomfort, too vulnerable to be resentfulness or hostility. Dio regarded him for a moment, carefully indifferent, then resumed folding up his shirt sleeves.
One of the manservants soon arrived with the requested water. The man once again expressed concern over the two boys, but Dio assured him that everything was under control and that he would call if they needed anything else. The manservant left, albeit hesitantly, and Dio returned to JoJo’s side with the bowl in hand, placing it onto the desk.
After soaking the provided cloth in the warm water and wringing it out, Dio turned and pushed Jonathan upright, drawing a startled cry of pain from the injured boy as he instinctively attempted to curl back in on himself. Dio ignored him, keeping one hand against JoJo’s shoulder.
“Sit still.” He pressed the damp cloth against a cut running along the edge of JoJo’s hairline.
“Ow!” JoJo recoiled, trying to pull away. “Dio! What are you– Ow!”
“Even a cut can become gangrenous if not properly attended to,” Dio said, dipping the cloth into the basin again and wiping more blood from a cut down Jonathan’s temple.
“Ow! I know that, but–”
“Then what is the problem? Just sit still and let me clean those cuts,” Dio retorted. He brought the cloth to a remarkable split in the skin above JoJo’s eye.
“Ow…! All right, all right, fine, just…” JoJo clenched and unclenched his fists for a moment, as though unsure what to do with his hands, before finally and hesitantly settling on gripping his knees. “Be gentle, all right…?”
Dio grit his teeth, fingers tightening around the cloth in his hand. He resumed cleaning JoJo’s cuts as before.
‘Be gentle.’
What the hell? How, how had he lost to this ? A pampered brat who whined and flinched at the slightest pain? JoJo had taken a thumb to the eye, even a knee to the head better than this…!
JoJo hissed, tensing yet again as the cloth pulled at the edges of the cut along his hairline. “Well… You certainly seem to know what you’re doing…”
The words were murmured, sounding like a light observation spoken more to JoJo himself than to the boy in front of him.
Despite that, Dio found himself saying coldly, “Of course. I’ve had to.”
JoJo’s eyes flicked upward to look at him, wide, confused, and naive, so infuriatingly goddamned naive –
“The slums of London are not so kind as the backwater countryside, JoJo ,” Dio snarled, glaring at the cut he was currently cleaning.
“...Right. Of course, that makes sense.”
Dio paused, actually looking JoJo in the face. He nearly reeled back.
Dio did not quite recognize the look on JoJo’s face. There was no hostility in it, no defensiveness, not even a resignation. It was not pity , Dio did actually know what that looked like. No, it was something else. Dio hated it.
“Tch.” Dio looked away, managing to regain a fumbling hold on his temper as he continued tending to Jonathan’s wounds. “You know, you never answered my question.”
“What? Ow…!”
“What happened?” Dio asked, relaxing now that that look had disappeared behind a wince of pain.
“I… It was nothing.” JoJo looked away. “I simply lost my temper…”
Dio just barely managed to hold back a scoff as he wrung out the cloth in the, by now, blood stained water. Chances were, his followers had found Jonathan and verbally assaulted him until some slight violated his precious sense of ‘honour,’ and he lashed out physically. Considering how much more emotionally fragile JoJo had been as of late, it would not have been difficult.
“Dio.”
At the sound of his name, Dio turned back to JoJo with a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”
There it was. That look again, made somehow worse by the way JoJo sat upright in his chair, despite how much it obviously physically pained him.
“I’m…” JoJo hesitated, then continued certainly, “I’m sorry. For… making you cry.”
Never had Dio felt more like he wanted to hit someone.
That look, those words , something about them just… got under his skin, made him feel not like the veritable god he knew he was. Dio wanted to hurt Jonathan, to punch that look off his face, to–
run a w ay
an d
h i d e
“...I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dio said through grit teeth.
JoJo bowed his head. “Right. Of course.”
Dio’s grip tightened around the cloth once again. “Good god, just sit still,” he growled.
The rest of their time was spent in silence, save for the occasional hiss or cry from JoJo.