The scene of this tale is set in Victorian Era, England. Back in the slums of London, mindlessly wandering throughout tavern to tavern; sulking through alley way to alley way was a man. Once a very noble optimistic man who wore a kind smile on his lips, now only to hold a bottle of liquor to them with such a disgusted scowl. Whether he was disgusted with the taste of the hard liquors or the fact that he had taken up this horrible trait, it was hard to tell. If his father were to see him now, to see how he strayed further and further from being the gentlemen he wanted him to be; that very thought alone caused the brunette to drink himself away from that horrible vision and feeling of disappointment.
This heir to the Joestar manor was struck by horror and tragedy when he found out that his father had passed away late in the night due to illness. He suffered from pneumonia and the doctors could not do much about this besides prescribe medicines that barely touched the symptoms. His heart ached for the man he was raised by. How all the memories of the only parent he known made him weak and broken with every passing day. Jonathan Joestar had lost his father roughly last week, still wounded from this loss Jonathan had taken up a self-destructive tendency. He cursed himself for being so ignorant and weak, this was unlike him. Yet, deep down he knew that he did not have anyone else to look towards for love and family. The brunette finally decided that he indeed had nothing left to live for. So, in nothing but haste, he had put his mind to drinking himself ill. Hopping from tavern to tavern, engaging in such delinquent like activities and thoroughly cursing himself for doing so. He just wanted to do anything to get closer to that sweet hold of death he hoped so much for.
A cold harsh wind blew throughout the slum roads of London as the bulky brunette walked down the muddy paved roads, well staggered should have been the appropriate term to use. Jonathan had drank himself into a horrible stupor, his vision blurred and horribly contorted as he walked himself deep into a back alley of the tavern he had drank from until he couldn't even look at another alcoholic beverage. Jonathan always thought about how his father would look at him now as well as his late mother; would she and his father scold him or would they solemnly shake their heads with a look or pure disgust on their faces? Curses on him for thinking about them when he was inebriated. The reason he sank himself into bottle after bottle at night was the fact that he had lost everyone; he need not be reminded of them now. It was almost too much for him to bear. The thoughts of how they would perceive him flooded in, causing the young man to let out a choked sound of defeat.
He staggered himself up against the cold, damp, brick wall in front of him; leaning his entire body up against it as if it were a stand to hold him. His hands absent mindedly rubbing against the coarse grain of the bricks as a pained sigh passes through his liquor kissed lips "Blast it all." He murmured under his breath, knuckles dragging against the cold bricks as he balled his fingers into fists; blunt nails dug into the skin of his palms as he squeezed his eyes shut. His mind working ever so hard to get the image of his late parents out of his mind. Images of how he walked the halls of his manor completely alone with no one to call his own, or anyone to call family. Jonathan nuzzled his forehead to the bricks as he attempted to collect himself, trying not to let his emotions to get the best of him in such a place. The wind picking up to an ominous howl in the distance as he gripped his fingers tighter to the point where his knuckles turned white. "Why must I be cursed to walk this Earth alone?" he breathed out, eyes moving as if he were looking at something in vivid detail yet his eyes were closed shut. His breathing picking up as he felt himself on the verge of tears. He should not find himself crying in a bloody alleyway.
Come to think of it, he really did not know why he was still there in said alley. Why was he wondering down this accursed place; but did it really matter? Jonathan pushed his weight onto his fists, feeling the cold, rough bricks scraping the skin of his knuckles as he pressed himself off of the wall and into the middle of the alleyway. The mud under his dress shoes causing him to skid on his heels for a moment until he collected his footing. The tears were coming, he could feel his eyes start to strain even more than they were before. It was only a matter of time until his vision became even more distorted and harsh. He could not handle this feeling any longer. He thought to himself that he had nothing, no one, only himself and he was surely destroying that one bottle at a time. He sucked in a trembling breath as he decided that he needed to get home to his estate where he could morn alone. He need not let anyone see himself in such a state.