This Is Fine

Part 4

a/n: we just finished the first half of part 3 and idk how to feel.......time to go back to part 1 bc we can't fucking cope. also this chapter deals with alcohol so I apologize for both the trigger warning and probable inaccuracies. and if you'll remember from chapter one oid is dio in disguise (I can't really say that in the fic bc it's from speedwagon's pov and he doesn't know)
Sid: hey i just want to say i love joseph joestar he is a fucking moron

JoJo was no fool. He knew something was wrong with Speedwagon. The man had been strangely distant for the past week, ever since the training session at the waterfall. JoJo couldn't figure out why, though. Nothing had happened except—

Oh. Was that what was putting his friend on edge? JoJo had thought they were close enough to do a little friendly sparring, and he thought he hadn't knocked Speedwagon too hard anyway. Maybe he had been misinterpreting their friendship all this time. The thought made JoJo more uncomfortable than he would like to admit; for a reason he didn't quite know, he wanted Speedwagon to be as comfortable with him as he was with his friend. He wanted Speedwagon to enjoy his presence, if not look forward to it (no, not that, that's weird).

Perhaps he was being too forward, JoJo thought—after all, that tackle was very unexpected and the two had only known each other for a month. JoJo realized with startling clarity that the last thing he wanted was to drive Speedwagon out of his life. The man was the only real friend he had ever had, and the prospect of losing him wrenched JoJo's heart in a way he couldn't describe.

So JoJo resolved to do nothing to drive Speedwagon away. No more tackles, no more sparring, nothing he suspected his friend would be unhappy with.

JoJo still didn't know how to bridge the new distance between them, though.

—

Robert caved the next evening. With the way his thoughts were scraping around in his head, too many of them self-deprecating, he thought he deserved a drink.

Robert walked into the Saint James' bar at around seven in the evening. The sun was still in the sky, but Robert was sure it would be down by the time he went out again. He found an empty stool at the bar and promptly ordered a dry gin. The liquor burned a bit at his throat as it went down, centering Robert's thoughts to a less violent tumbling.

It was going to be a long night, he could tell.

Robert soon lost count of how many drinks he had. He wasn't planning on getting shitfaced like last time, but after three drinks he stopped keeping track. His head was beginning to hum quite pleasantly when his attention was diverted to the stool beside him.

"Hello," a deep voice purred. Robert realized it was coming from that seat next to him, and turned to see a man who he had to admit was beautiful. He was wearing a flowy white shirt tucked into a pair of gas-pipe leather pants, with a gold belt slung low around his hips. His collar was unbuttoned, teasing a view of the hollow of this throat and his collarbones. Tucked inside the collar was a silken green ascot. On his head the man wore a black velvet hat which he took off to reveal a mass of brown hair, meticulously combed and parted to fall down the side of his face. His face itself was full of sharp angles, especially around his jaw and nose. If Robert hadn't known better he would have thought the man was using some sort of face product.

"Is this seat taken?" The man continued, drawing Robert's attention to his mouth. He noticed the man was wearing something that made his lips shimmer; he realized it was a thin layer of dark red lipstick.

"Oh, no, not at all," Robert said, remembering his pleasantries after his initial shock and fascination. The man sat with an almost unconscious grace. "Have we met before? You look a bit familiar."