A/N: Okay, so I really should not be doing this, but whatever, I love this show too much to care. It's my favorite! And I've had the idea for a while. That said, the reason I should NOT be doing this is because this is all I have written so far (Don't worry, I do have the whole thing plotted), so updates might be sporadic like most of my stories.

Anywho though, what's done is done, and I can't help but be excited because again, I LOVE THIS SHOW! So Without further ado, here's the prologue.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the wonderful journey that is Jojo's Bizarre Adventures. This was made for entertainment purposes only with no intent on copy infringement.

I desire the things which will destroy me in the end. -Sylvia Plath

The State of Dreaming Prologue

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Evelyn stood frozen, her hands clutched to her breast, light green eyes wide despite her efforts to maintain an unaffected outward appearance. Clearly, she wasn't unaffected - far from it, and he knew it too. She took shallow breaths, her heart beating loudly against her ears, and she was unsure if her state was due to her fear or, to her ever-increasing shame, desire. Perhaps it was a mixture of the two, she thought.

Despite everything he had done, she still cared for him, wanted him at the very least. If she were asked how or why, the young girl doubted she could explain. How could she when she scarcely understood it herself? By all means, she should've hated him like everyone else she knew, perhaps more so when one considered everything that had happened to date. It was the sane thing to do, but hate had never come easily to her. And over the years, she'd learned that nothing was ever sane when it concerned him.

His breath brushed against the back of her neck, and she supressed a flinch. He was closer than she'd thought. However, she still didn't turn around. A pang of sadness and longing hit her when she realized his breath was no longer warm and comforting as it had always been in her youth. Now, it felt as cold as a November eve in London.

"Evelyn," he drawled. His long pale fingers tucked a strand of long dark hair behind her ear, and he leaned even closer, his deep voice rumbling in her ear. "I thought you wanted to be with me always?"

More than anything. Ever since she was just a child, that was all she had wanted, and now, he was presenting it to her like a neat little present. She only feared that she would get tangled in the wrappings. He was making it so easy for her. All she had to do was make a simple choice - to choose him. The Lord knew she wanted to accept, but there were so many reasons to refuse.

But ... But maybe, just maybe, he would change for her. Or at least that's what the hopeful voice that had followed her throughout her life whispered. If Evelyn couldn't get through to him, then no one could. He would never turn himself in she knew. His pride wouldn't allow it, and she wouldn't either. They would kill him for all that he'd done, for what he'd become. However, the two could run away together and start a new life. Could she convince him to follow her? Would he even want to?

His hand landed on her shoulder and turned her to face him. They were standing so close he was almost pressed against her, his hair tickling her face. His scent enveloped her. He was all darkness and autumn spices and something she could only describe as utterly him. Now though, underlying it all, was the heavy, dizzying scent of iron. He was so different now, yet Evelyn also realized with some horror that he was exactly the same too. Perhaps more himself than he'd ever been before. And that scared her to the core.

As he brushed one hand along her arm, raising goosebumps along the skin, he tilted her chin upward, and she found herself trapped in hiss commanding gaze.

"I can give you everything," he promised, leaning impossibly closer, their noses brushing. His eyes ... He seemed so sincere, but Jonathan had mentioned ... No, this was different. He cared for her too. She knew he had to. Throughout it all, he hadn't tried to kill her too. He wasn't trying to kill her now.

It all came back to the question she kept asking herself. Would he change for her? Could he even? She had to try anyways, didn't she? Everyone else had given up on him. Everyone. But she had promised herself that she would never leave him, so how could she refuse?

She hoped Jonathan would forgive her.

With a nod so small it was almost imperceptible, she whispered, "Alright," against his cool lips.

She felt his smirk more than saw it, and another shudder racked her thin frame. Already, she almost regretted her decision. She had to wonder, how had it all come to this?

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To Be Continued

A/N: Well, there it is. I knew this was bound to happen eventually, but I honestly hadn't planned on posting it for quite sometime. That, along with several other, Sylvia Plath quote got to me, and so here we are. I hope y'all liked it!

Let me know what you think!

Thanks for reading! I'll get the next installment out soon!

ONWARD!

-Alyssa