Night air settled over the estate, a summer breeze stirring a gentle rustle through the trees around the yard. Crickets chirped, frogs sang, the night life blooming around the lavish home. Both boys were sent to bed, Jonathan without being allowed to finish dinner for being so hasty and clumsy with his food, and this wasn't the first time. Such a punishment turned out to be a blessing in disguise for the dark-haired student, as undercooked meat ran a higher risk of carrying disease. George Joestar had asked the steak to be prepared rare. Though it was pleasing to the palette, the consequences hit his adopted brother particularly hard.
The blonde jolted upright from a nightmare, gasping desperately. He felt as if his lungs couldn't get enough air. The room spun around him, eyes darting around like a frightened animal. A dream… It was only a dream. The breeze coming through the crack in the window brushed against his damp cheeks as he laid back against his pillow, breathing slowly and trying to calm the tension that seemed to be in every muscle.
What he thought was only a stomach cramp from stress only seemed to worsen. All at once, the room felt too hot and too cold at the same time. He became aware of the sweat that made his clothes stick to his skin, plastering his blonde locks to his face. Even the gentle light from the full moon was too much for his eyes to handle. The worst by far was the terrible roiling in his stomach. Rolling onto his side, he tried to find a comfortable position to get back to sleep. He was exhausted, more than usual at this time of night. It felt like his body was weighed down with bricks…
He was thrown into a sudden state of wakefulness at the sensation that was next to hit him. A tight rumble sounded from his gullet, his mouth watering. A chill ran up his spine, ending in a foreboding feeling of numbness in the back of his jaw. Every fiber shook horribly. There was no mistaking what was coming next. Though his stomach protested, he knew he couldn't stay here. He didn't want to be sleeping on sheets soaked with his half-digested dinner.
No matter how carefully he tried to walk, each step was terribly ill-timed. Every movement sent terrible shocks to his noisily stomach. He bit back a soft moan. He was Dio Brando, he wasn't supposed to look weak!
Such a concern was slowly slipping from his mind as he felt his stomach push something thick and hot around. One arm wrapped around his stomach, taking a moment to lean in the doorway. Everything seemed to lock up, his entire body jerking with a violent gag. He was just barely able to swallow it back down, but the small victory was soon thrown out, as his body suddenly felt unbearably cold and shaky. Sealing a hand over his mouth, he sank down, hunched over and gripping at his audibly churning gut. He took slow, quiet, deep breaths in an attempt to calm the storm raging inside him.
Another sharp gag caught him off guard. His eyes went wide, shoulders bunched and trembling as he leaned over and heaved. A ribbon of hot and sour vomit spilled out of his mouth, spilling onto the carpet beneath him. He could feel it splash onto his legs and soak through to his knees, staining the carpet with pre-ingested meat. He was left coughing weakly at the taste, knowing he was nowhere near done. The last time he felt so vulnerable, so alone, was when his mother was with him. He could still clearly remember her sweet words, her gentle touch, the way she rubbed his back and encouraged him to relax… It was all too much. He wanted to feel her, see her, hear her again. He felt another wave of nausea crash over him, tears springing into his eyes. "M… Mama…!"
Jonathan froze when he heard him vomit. At first, the noise was enough to wake him, but he assumed one of the servants spilled something and went to go back to sleep. Then he heard a sick burp, followed by soft sobbing… It was Dio. He had half a mind to let him just sit there in misery for what he did to him, what he did to Danny… but the idea was short lived. The ache in his chest prodded him to go and comfort Dio, even if he did deserve to be miserable in one way or another.
Then he heard him calling for his mother… There was no way he could let him sit there, alone in his own mess of sick now, especially when he was weak enough to cry for his mother. Swinging his legs out of bed, he headed out to make sure he hadn't coughed up his spleen. "Dio?"
The blonde shuddered as he heard him approach. The absolute last person he wanted to see him like this, and of all the people, he shows up. He glared at him, but the effect was marred by the tears streaming freely down his face. "G-go away, y… you…" He wasn't able to finish. Taking in a shaky breath, he faced the floor and, discreetly as he could, started to throw up again.
Jonathan felt nausea bubble in his own stomach at the sight, sympathetic to the boy. That didn't mean he was just going to leave him. He moved to kneel down and rub his back, only for Dio to swat the offending limb away.
"Don't touch me…" He coughed harshly, his voice shaking to signal he wasn't finished. "I don't need your help."
"Fine." Not that Jonathan was just going to let him sit here alone. "Then I'll go get someone else. One of the maids can bring you-"
"No! Don't!" Dio reached out, grabbing his pant leg to keep him from going anywhere. "Don't, I don't want…"
Jonathan watched the disheveled frame of his adopted brother, crumpled on the floor as his weak grip left his pajama leg. He was an absolute mess… Whatever his reason, he wouldn't let Dio suffer alone, even if he did deserve it. With a sigh, he knelt down and hooked an arm under his legs, the other curled around his shoulders.
The blonde shivered, stomach quivering at the movement. "I said I-"
"I heard you." He could feel just how hot he was in his arms, and how terribly shaky he was. How long had he been feeling this way? He seemed fine at dinner… Jonathan was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a pitiful moan make its way up from Dio's throat. Looking down, he saw the color drain from his face again, arms hugging his middle. "Hold on!" Not wanting to be puked on, Jonathan carried him swiftly to the bathroom. He tried to go as smoothly as he could, not wanting to jostle his stomach further. He already had vomit smeared on his upper arm from being in contact with Dio's knees.
No sooner had Jonathan crossed the doorway did Dio begin to panic, covering his mouth with a shaking hand. "Jonathan…!" He whined his name urgently, desperately. His belly felt swollen and angry, his shirt too tight over his abdomen.
Jonathan wasted no time setting him down on his knees. Dio grabbed the rim of the toilet with white knuckles, lowering his head and burping up what was left. The last of the food passed, only for his stomach to move onto bile. His brother could only watch helplessly, trying not to vomit just out of sympathy for him. He looked at the floor, unable to block out the terrible retching as he awkwardly rubbed his back. He knew Dio had to be in pain.
After a few dry heaves and a soft hiccup, it was finally over, for now anyway. Dio rested his forehead on his arm that laid across the bowl, panting and shivering like a sick animal.
Jonathan was the first to venture to speak. "You called for your mother."
Dio didn't even look at him, hiding the mortification on his face. "What?"
"Your mother. You called out for her."
"…I did no such thing." Reaching up, he flushed away the mess to rid them of the sight and smell. He tried to stand, only to find his knees were shaking far too much to support any kind of weight. Before he could fall and hit his head, he felt Jonathan catch him under the armpits.
"Careful."
Dio muttered something about not needing his help, but didn't do anything to move away from him. He didn't feel like slamming his head into ceramic. He leaned into him as they walked out of the bathroom. Jonathan headed for his room, before being hit with the scent of vomit. By the recoiled look on Dio's face, he could tell he didn't need to sleep with that. "Come on… You can sleep in my room. I'll have someone clean that up."
"That's ridiculous…" Again, a failed attempt at a glare was his response.
Jonathan brushed him off, bringing him to lay down on his bead. He moved to get his soiled pajamas off of him.
Dio grabbed his wrist. "What are you doing?"
"You can't sleep in these. You threw up all over them."
He wanted to argue, he really did. He just didn't have the energy at this point. "Fine…" Reduced to his undergarments, he didn't struggle as Jonathan pulled his own blanket over him. A sigh left him as he leaned back into the cool, soft pillow. The mattress dipped as he felt Jonathan sit beside him on the edge of the bed.
"So about your mom…"
"I told you, I don't want to talk about it…" He was pretty sure he did, or at least expressed it one way or another. The fever made his brain fuzzy…
"Nothing like that." He rubbed the back of his head, awkwardly. "I just wanted to know… Is there anything she ever did when you didn't feel well? I don't remember my mom, so…" He really didn't know how to help someone in this situation.
The blonde's face softened just a little. It wouldn't hurt, right? After all, it could still play into his act to gain sympathy from them. He'd already managed to make himself look like a pitiful orphan in front of Jonathan, who he wanted to strike fear and misery into. The best he could do was to use this to his advantage. Besides that, his stomach still felt sick, despite the fact that he had already tossed everything he had. "She… She used to make me ginger tea when my stomach was upset."
Tea! Tea, he could do that. How hard could it be? It was just fancy leaf water, right? "I've got it. You lay down, I'll be back." Slowly rising so that he didn't jostle the bed, he headed down to the kitchen. Ginger tea. Ginger, duh. Where was it? Trying to be quiet so as not to wake anyone else, he searched the cupboards for the desired ingredient. It was too dark to see anything… He felt around for it, wishing he could ask one of the servants for help. He wasn't going to wake them just so he could be shown how to do a simple task. What could be a substitute, then? Cinnamon was sort of sweet and spicy, like ginger. So if he boiled water and just put a pinch in, it should have the same effect, right?
Setting the water over the gentle flame, he opened the cinnamon container to add just a little bit. Unable to see properly, his eyes adjusted a bit when he realized he had poured half of it into the tea pot… oops. Well, that should be enough. Cheeks slightly pink, Jonathan clumsily put it back with the other spices where (he was pretty sure) it belonged. The sound of metal and ceramic clinking together sounded much louder now that everyone else in the house was asleep. He took the pot off the heat just as it started to make a noise, trying to be quiet. Grabbing it with bare hands, he quickly realized, was a bad idea. He hissed softly, setting it on the table. Fortunately, nothing permanent. Just a lingering burning sensation. Taking a towel, he poured a cup for Dio, taking it up to his room.
His brother had nearly fallen asleep, when he heard the door creak open. He expected it to take him a while. Jonathan was fed from a silver spoon. He was shocked he even knew how to pour water himself. He sat up slowly, feeling the support of Jonathan's hand on his back. The deep warmth of his palm registered for a fraction of a second in his mind, and how were they so big? He didn't swat him away this time, praying that whatever he brought him would bring some kind of-
"What is that?"
Jonathan tilted his head a bit at the question. "It's ginger tea. Well, sort of… I couldn't find the ginger, so I used cinnamon instead. It should work the same, right?"
Cautiously, he sniffed the tea, only to let out a small gag at the smell. Jonathan was ready to act, but was relieved to see he wasn't actually going to vomit again. Dio glared up at him. "What have you done? This is literally as simple as boiling water."
Jonathan shrunk back a bit. "Sorry…"
Easy as it would be to pick him apart, Dio didn't have the energy. He merely sighed, setting the cup on his night stand and rolling onto his side. His stomach still gurgled unhappily, despite the fact that there was nothing left to toss up. He laid onto his back, finding the pressure easier to deal with.
Jonathan bit the corner of his lip, feeling guilty that he ruined what might be his one chance at making him feel better… He could hear just how upset his stomach was just by sitting beside him. If he didn't mess up that tea… Wait, maybe there was another way! Thinking on a whim, Jonathan reached a hand to gently rub his stomach.
"No, don't!" Irritated, Dio tried to push his hand back, but was too weak to put up any kind of a fight.
"It's okay, just relax." Jonathan's hand was big enough to nearly cover his stomach. Dio watched as the other rubbed his abdomen in wide, slow circles. He would be a liar if he said it didn't feel good. His hand was large and warm and gentle. The soft ministrations eased the cramps, enough for him to just rest his eyes for a moment. He sighed, nearly able to drift off.
Jonathan remembered doing this for Danny. He opened his mouth to say that he used to love belly rubs, only to close it instantly. He liked his face arranged how it was, and he wasn't going to ruin it by comparing his adopted brother to a dog. Then a thought came to his head… Why was he helping the very person who killed his dog, his best friend? Bitterness momentarily surfaced, as he "accidentally" pressed just a bit too hard into his stomach. Not enough to make him sick again, but enough to elicit a small burp from the blonde. "Sorry."
Dio glared a bit, but didn't have much energy to argue. Instead, he let this one go. He knew it was on purpose, but it was no reason to knife him in the neck.
Just as he was about to drift off again, he felt a weight settle beside him. Jonathan had climbed into bed with him, arm draped over his waist to pull him close. Dio struggled, weakly trying to push him back. "Get off of me!"
No use. Once he was out, he was out. Jonathan snuggled him in his sleep, pulling his adopted brother close.
Well… he was warm, and he wasn't bringing him any more pain. He forced himself to settle for the sake of sleep alone, if not for anything else. His head was pounding and his stomach still ached. Deciding the struggle wasn't worth it, he settled down and closed his eyes to sleep. Maybe he could play it up a bit and even get some sympathy from Jonathan… but that could wait. He was exhausted. At long last, sleep finally befell the ailing teen.