Simple Man

One: Now and Then

**I shouldn't be writing this, but the creative juices won't stop either. I'm a HUGE fan of the artist umikochan and her GOREGOUS doodles of JoJo AUs. I've been inspired by some of her work that revolves around avoiding canon, where everyone is happy and alive 😊 (someone tell her I said hi). I named this after that Lynyrd Skynyrd song (which I'm surprised isn't a JoJo reference, at least to my knowledge) but one of my favorite bands ever, Shinedown, did a cover of this song and it gives me CHILLS.

Can't promise regular updates because I'm old and I got shit to do, so this is just something I'm gonna write in my spare time. Nevertheless, thank you for just skimming through these jumbled paragraphs and leaving your warm and helpful reviews. It means more to me than you know. Please enjoy!**

Jonathan was stirred awake by the sudden rocking of the bed and a muffled cough. Peeling his eyelids open and forcing his body to sit up, he felt like Frankenstein's monster arising as he peeked over his shoulder. Within the murky darkness, he spotted a flash of white and blonde quickly exit the room.

He stumbled out of the creaky bed, rubbing his eyes furiously to be rid of the sands of sleep. The thin, puffy sleeves of his nightshirt felt cool against his skin as he jogged across the chamber and into the hallway.

"Erina?" His sleepy croak was barely above a whisper. He looked to the left and caught her long white nightgown and wavy blonde hair disappear into the water-closet. Not a second later did he hear dry heaving emit from the room.

He winced, pity bubbling in his chest. Poor thing. It's only been a few weeks.

He went back to the dresser in their bedroom where matches, candles, a pitcher of water, and two empty glasses sat. He lit a half-melted candle, filled one of the glasses, and then walked out once more, supplies in hand. On his way to the water-closet, he noticed another candlelight coming from the other end of the spacious hall. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was Helena, their elderly housekeeper.

"Mr. Joestar," she whispered once they met up, "is Mrs. Joestar alright? I thought I saw her as I came up the stairs."

"I believe so," he whispered back. "Just a case of morning sickness." He smiled softly. "I'll take care of her. Please go back to sleep."

She asked if he was certain and offered her assistance, but Jonathan reassured her that he could handle it and convinced her to retire for the night. As Helena hobbled away, he faced the door to the water-closet, which was left ajar, silence and darkness peering through the crack.

With his knuckles, he gently pushed it open. "Erina?"

Hunched over the toilet bowl, Erina held her head in her hands, breathing heavily. At the sound of his voice, she unfurled her spine and reached for the lever attached to the elevated water tank. As it flushed away whatever didn't agree with Erina, she wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and said to Jonathan, "Don't come in."

But he did just that: he widened the door as he stepped in, settling down beside her on the floor. With the glow of the candle's flame, he could make out the redness in her face, the sweat upon her brow. She appeared hot, yet the goosebumps sprinkled up and down her arms made him think that she was cold.

Poor thing.

"Or completely ignore my words," she muttered into the bowl as he placed the candle atop the sink next to him.

"You never ask for help, love, especially when you need it," he replied matter-of-factly. He handed the glass to her which he told her to drink. She then took a small sip while he pulled back her golden locks behind her shoulders, thick and heavy like a stage curtain. He pressed the back of his hand against her forehead—she did feel warm, but that also could've been from snuggling under the covers for a few hours.