**So. Apparently it's super hard to find JoJo Part 7 anywhere. Every bookstore I go into, I head over to the manga section and they NEVER have part 7, or part 8 for that matter. All they have is part 2 and part 5 (MAYBE part 4 if you're lucky). My question is why? Why is the most liked JoJo dude and the best JoJo storyline always in stock, but I can't find the cowboy one? I don't wanna do what I did with Attack on Titan and read the whole thing purely online and not support the writer by never buying anything. (I'm sorry, Isayama, but you're probably a millionaire at this point too, and I already own the first half of the manga, so I'm not completely horrible?)
ANYWAY. I guess I gotta order that. But here's Joseph's chapter. Song is by Ayron Jones and is definitely different from Shawn James's "Curse of the Fold" aka my chosen Jonathan song, which I guess is the point. Araki was probably like "how can I make this other JoJo the complete opposite of the first one?" Weird how everyone likes the dumb asshole, but nobody likes the biggest gentleman in fictional existence, both mentally and physically. Whatever, but go check out the song. Hope y'all enjoy!
PS. I'm sorry if I butchered what little Italian I have in this chapter. I took five years of French, not Italian. Okay, BYE**
When I was young, Granny Erina and Uncle Speedwagon had to deal with my shit all the time—actually, they had to deal with me nearly half my life.
"JoJo."
"What?"
"Don't touch that."
"I'm not touching it."
Barely a minute would pass before Erina sighed again, this time more annoyed. "Joseph, come here."
"But I'm not—"
"I said come here."
Joseph pouted as he stomped away from all the glass vases and other highly breakable trinkets in the shop and approached his grandma, who then bent down and scooped him up in her arms. He tried to make an effort of showing her how upset he was, being restrained—he would cross his arms, deepen his frown, and try to lean away from her, so she had no choice but to keep a firm grip on him. Erina, however, didn't show him any remorse because she knew better. She knew he was dramatic and unreliable.
Speedwagon gave Joseph a tired look (that man was only capable of two emotions: tiredness and worry). "Will it kill you to listen to your grandmother for once? I don't plan on buying the entire store if you keep breaking everything."
"I haven't broken anything!" Joseph stuck out his tongue.
"Not yet."
"I'll break your nose if you—"
"Joseph."
He noticed Erina's slender yet strong throat tighten, so that the blue veins beneath her snow white skin pulsed. Ever since he learned how to speak, Joseph often claimed that he wasn't afraid of anything, but disappointing or making his grandma upset made his heart drop to his feet.
Joseph immediately shut his mouth, but his scowl didn't leave. Erina looked at him, and he tried looking anywhere but at her blue, judging eyes—her earrings, the wrinkles in her face, the ribbon in her hat, the pearls around her clenching throat.
She then surprised him by taking off her hat—one with a wide, floppy brim and a pink satin ribbon tied around it—and placed it on Joseph's head. He finally looked at her eyes and noted that she wasn't as angry as she could've been. "As punishment for disrespecting Uncle Speedwagon," she declared, "you're going to wear my hat until we get back home."
Joseph adjusted the hat and gave her a puzzled stare. "That's it?"
Erina smiled softly, and Joseph's heart returned to its spot in his chest. Now he knew he wasn't in deep trouble. "When I was a little girl, being compared to a woman was often an insult. Boys would have to sit with the girls in classrooms if they misbehaved at school."
Joseph snorted. "I can name, like, three other things that are worse than being compared to a girl. You need to come up with better punishments, Granny Erina."
"I'll keep that in mind," she grinned in response, making him wish he hadn't said that.
Now that he was older, he knew what that punishment's purpose was—all the little boys and girls they walked pass on the way home would giggle and point at him. It was supposed to embarrass him, make finding friendship harder, but Joseph didn't remember feeling any of those things. He walked beside Erina, holding her hand, just as usual. Not a single snicker made him self-conscious in any way. In fact, he liked the attention—good or bad wasn't an issue—and would blow kisses to the boys and wiggle his fingers at the girls.
The confidence in himself was like titanium: impossible to break.
There were plenty moments like that growing up—Joseph getting his nose into business that didn't involve him and Erina or Speedwagon being there to stop him (or at least contain him). Despite the trouble he consistently got into and the strict rules that dominated the Joestar household, Joseph was extremely close to his guardians and wouldn't want anyone else for a parent.
He didn't even want Lisa Lisa to try being his mom again after he found out who she really was. He already had a mother; he didn't need anyone else.
Perhaps that was why he didn't have many friends growing up. He was perfectly content with Erina and Speedwagon's company (and he was also a bit of a nuisance, but that's beside the point). He enjoyed the trips to the wildly successful Speedwagon Foundation and seeing all the things they could create or manage. Doctors, accountants, pilots, mechanics, engineers, all sorts of people walked in and out of the place, all under the slowly growing empire that would become Speedwagon's masterpiece.
"I wanna be a pilot when I grow up," he once told Speedwagon while watching men in overalls painting a giant SF on the side of a new plane.
He was sitting on Speedwagon's shoulders, and his uncle held on loosely to his ankles to keep him from kicking his chest in excitement. "Ah, do you now? Last week it was a firefighter, and today it's a pilot?"
"Yeah." He stuck out his arms and waved them like a baby bird about to take off. "I like being in planes, you know, going from place to place. I could travel the world, go anywhere I want. I've seen them in movies. It looks so cool."
"Your father was a pilot. He liked being in the air too."
"Yeah, well, he's dead, so he must've not been a very good one."
"Hey."
Speedwagon's face turned a little and he saw that nasty scar forever engraved into his cheek, along with a subtle glare. "Don't say such things about your father, mate. He was a good man."
Joseph huffed but didn't reply.
That was another thing—for the longest time, Joseph never really thought about the past, or the future for that matter. He was a more "live in the moment" kind of guy. Whatever happens, happens, and there's nothing you could do about what already was. But it was clear that Erina and Speedwagon sometimes got lost between the now and the then, and it was more evident whenever they talked about his grandfather, Jonathan.
Erina kept a picture of her and Jonathan on their wedding day on her nightstand. There wasn't a day when she didn't look at it fondly. She still wore her wedding ring after all those years; she never once went on a date or considered remarrying anyone.
"Never?" Joseph once asked with his head in her lap and Erina's fingers smoothly combing his hair (she would continue to do that for the rest of his life). "You never wanna remarry?"
She didn't even blink. "No. I'm perfectly satisfied with just being your grandma."
He giggled. "You'll always be my grandma, even if you marry again. But, like, what about Speedwagon? You guys live together and everything."
He knew the possibility was far-fetched. Yes, Speedwagon and Erina knew one another like the back of their hands, but they didn't hug or kiss or hold hands like how other kids' mommies and daddies did. Besides he was pretty damn sure that Speedwagon loved Jonathan in the same way Erina did, but never once did Speedwagon mention that deep shit to him. He wondered if Erina ever knew.
"No, no. I loved your grandfather too much—I still do. He was the only one for me." She smirked at a memory. "He once told me that the scariest moment in his life was when he went to go get my father's blessing before proposing to me."
Erina's father died before Joseph got the chance to meet him. He crossed his arms and smirked back. "Well, if your dad was anything like you, I'd be scared too."
She snickered and pitched his round cheeks together, his lips crumpling like a pucker-fish. "I thought you said you weren't afraid of anything?"
"I'm scared of you," he admitted through her grasp. "Your jaw twitches when you're angry and your face gets all scary. It's like watching a thunderstorm grow under your skin."
"You're an oddball, aren't you?" She let him go and then took the wedding picture beside her. "I think you look a lot like your mother, but I can still see many of your grandfather's features in you too. For example, you both have big and beautiful blue eyes…"
He widened his eyes like a puppy dog and blinked them rapidly like a schoolgirl. Erina chuckled. "And you also have bushy eyebrows, a long straight nose, full lips, and a square jawline."
All this didn't mean anything to Joseph—he didn't know the guy, for Christ's sake, so what difference did it make? But he let her ramble on for a little while, because talking about him sometimes made her feel better.
He then sat up and squashed his face next to hers in a tight embrace. "You don't think like I look like you? You have blue eyes too."
"Yes, but that's about it. You have more Joestar blood in you than Pendleton."
"I think I look like you." His little finger poked at her chin. "We could be twins, really."
Erina laughed and did something that always made Joseph feel loved. She would cup his little chubby face in her hands and kiss his nose repeatedly while mumbling "I love you, I love you, I love you" over and over again. He would always smile and giggle in response, and this little embrace would be something he would pass on to his own daughter, scooping her in his arms and kissing her all over when she was well into her forties.
Yup, he did have the best grandma ever.
But that's not to say that Joseph didn't get on Erina's nerves.
Once, when Joseph was around sixteen and getting hit with puberty hard, finding the idea of doing the opposite of what Speedwagon and Erina told him to do was fun, he barked a little at his grandmother when she started talking about Jonathan again. He didn't even remember what exactly she said, but he knew that whatever it was she remarked, it wasn't worth the comment he spewed back at her.
"Oh, my God, Granny." He rolled his eyes and made a face. "He's dead, alright? Sitting here reminiscing about what happened isn't gonna bring him back, you know? You need to move on."
The tiny smile she wore suddenly vanished. She took a deep breath. "I know, I—"
"Oh, another thing. You say you know these things, but I don't think you do. Look, I get you miss him, but it's really fucking annoying whenever you compare me to him."
Two things happened next. Speedwagon had entered the room at that point, heard what he said, and gave out a sharp "Hey!" at the same time that Erina's tiny, wrinkly hand raised in the air and slapped him dead across the face, packing more of a punch than he thought.
That wasn't the first time she slapped him (bold of anyone to assume that she wouldn't harm a hair on his head), but it was the first time he realized how badly he fucked up. Speedwagon said nothing at first, because they both knew Erina had something to say.
Joseph looked down at his grandmother—small, slender, sweet Erina that one could easily mistake her for an angel, but at that moment she glared at him with such a fire in her ocean eyes that it honestly scared him.
"You don't think I know that?" she growled under her breath with that same daunting flame laced in her voice. "I know he's dead, I know he's never coming back, I know I'm stuck in the past. I know all these things, Joseph, truly I do, and I'm trying to get better about it. But you haven't experienced the tragedy of watching someone you love die and having to move from it. I'm sorry for making these comparisons, and if it truly bothers you, then I will do everything in my power to stop them. But you're still a child. You still have a lot to learn. Now go, I can't stand looking at you right now."
With that, she banished him from the living room and failed to speak with him for the rest of the evening.
Speedwagon went and talked with him later that night. "You need to learn how to watch that mouth of yours, JoJo."
Joseph groaned and rolled his eyes. "Not you too, Speedwagon. I don't wanna hear how I'm not like that goody-two-shoes grandfather of mine. It's getting really annoying."
Speedwagon opened his mouth, most likely to defend his dead friend's honor, but all that came out was a sigh. He bit at his nails in anxiousness for a while and then tried again: "I can see where you're coming from, but I don't think you see where your grandmother is coming from."
"Hey, I don't—"
"No, I'm not done." Speedwagon straightened up and looked at Joseph. "I'm only going to mention Jonathan and George this time because they are relevant to the story, not because I think you're like them. Trust me, mate, I don't think you're like either one of them."
Joseph wasn't sure to be offended or not, but Speedwagon didn't give him time to think about it.
"Your grandfather died in a shipwreck and your father died in the war. Your great-grandfather didn't live very long either—I'm already older than he ever was—so the Joestar line has a terrible habit of dying young. Shortly after your father died and your mother went missing, your grandmother claimed legal responsibility over you. In fact, she wanted you all to herself; she wouldn't even let me touch you for the first couple weeks. She was so terrified of losing you that it nearly cost me an arm and a leg just to let you step outside the house. She used to have you sleep next to her in her bed instead of your cradle because she was petrified that some monster would snatch you away in your sleep. That poor woman…"
He sighed again and shook his head. "Almost everyone in her life has died in some cruel, untimely fashion, so I'm not surprised that she tends to look on the past and what happy few moments she had with the people she loved. She's not doing all this on purpose and she's a lot better now than what she used to be, believe it or not. JoJo, she just misses her husband and son; this is nothing against you. She wants nothing but the best for you. Now I think you should go apologize because you're extremely lucky to have a woman like that in your life."
Speedwagon had a great way of making him feel guilty, so he went and did just that. But she had to make it difficult—she refused to look at him or speak until it really started to worry him. Joseph hated the silent treatment, always did and always will. He'd rather be beaten to a bloody pulp than to endure the heavy silence of knowing he did something wrong and all was not forgiven.
Despite being over six feet tall, weighing over 200 pounds, and dressed in leathers and chains, Erina's opinion of him mattered more than most and he lowered onto his knees in a plea.
"Please, Grandma," he whimpered, feeling like a six-year-old again. "I'm really sorry, okay? Isn't that what you want to hear? I'm an idiot, I know that, and I'm obnoxious. I didn't mean what I said, I was just frustrated is all. You can slap me across the face again if that makes you feel better. Just say something, anything!"
Erina blinked slowly, reached out, and then ran her hands through his messy hair. The relief that settled over his shoulders was immense, and he dropped his head into her lap with his hands covering his face, breathing out the pressure that blocked his lungs.
"I'm sorry too, Joseph," came her soft voice. It was almost always gentle like a feather or a rose petal. Everything had to be silent when she spoke; her voice was light, yes, but the velvety tone could carry the weight of the moon. "I need to let you go, let you do the things you want to do. I keep dragging you into the past and I'm deeply ashamed of that. Your soul is like a river and I'm the dam that wants to hold you back. Just…please be careful, okay?"
He didn't respond right away. He just sat there for a while, absorbing the unconditional love of his grandmother. Time passed but it couldn't have been long before Erina said half-jokingly, "You're supposed to say 'Yes, Granny Erina, anything for you.'"
He snorted into his hands and looked up. "Anything? Really?"
She playfully smacked his knuckles and they both laughed. "Alright, alright. I'll be careful, but only for you, okay?" He pecked her cheek and stood up. "If Speedwagon tells me to be careful, I'm going to steal a motorcycle."
She frowned. "You're right: you really are obnoxious."
Of course, that talk didn't cure his urge to do stupid shit. He went to juvenile court plenty of times and sometimes Erina would let them keep him behind a square bar cage overnight in hopes of learning a lesson. He snuck out of the house, got into fistfights, created many enemies, stole pointless shit just to have the adrenaline pump through his veins like the Hamon he would eventually come to master. Doing all of that felt like he was being supercharged, like electricity flowed through his bloodstream and out his fingertips.
But he always made sure that he would be okay enough to come back home to his uncle and grandma. They raised a little hell after the whole Pillar Men incident as he waltzed into his own funeral with no word from him, but they still loved him, and that's all that mattered. Erina did smack him a few times, but she cried exhausted yet happy tears when he enveloped her into a hug. Speedwagon scolded him in his usual nervous manner, but he too succumbed to the delighted relief that he was okay (lack of a left hand and all) and patted him firmly on the back, still proud to be called uncle.
Joseph didn't learn the truth of what happened to Jonathan until he reached adulthood, and everything became clearer when they explained it to him. The monster Erina was afraid of stealing him away in the middle of the night had a name and a history and a crapload of soldiers willing to protect him with their lives. He reminded himself and the other crusaders to aim for the head when they reached Dio and to cause little damage as possible to the body. Yeah, he never knew Jonathan, but Erina did, and he had to bury something next to her grave.
But just killing the bastard was the overall goal, and Joseph didn't blame Jotaro in the slightest when he tore Dio apart limb from limb. Yet he was a little frustrated when they couldn't salvage any part of Jonathan's body which would just turn into dust in the morning, so he asked Jotaro and Polnareff if they'd be willing to explore Dio's hideout in hopes of finding any remains worth taking. They agreed and searched the place top to bottom.
Jotaro ended up finding some journals and diaries belonging to Dio, which he said contained plans for future conquests. Joseph wasn't really interested of what was in Dio's head or the plans he would never accomplish now, yet Jotaro sat there and read the thing like it was a biology textbook for class and, when he was done, tossed it into the fireplace and never spoke of it again.
Joseph was once again left dissatisfied when he failed to find anything that could've belonged to the grandfather he never got to see. Not his wedding ring, a lock of hair, a piece of clothing. Absolutely nothing. But wasn't this Dio guy obsessed with the Joestar family, especially Jonathan? Wouldn't he be the creep that kept his dead crush's head in a watery jar next to his bedside, waiting for the day when Jonathan's body would finally be his? But no, he apparently let his head rot at the bottom of the sea, along with the other people who died that day back in 1889.
He let rip the red hot, little ball of anger in his stomach as he smashed Dio's coffin, knocked the things off his desk, and tore down the shutters, letting in the blazing sun that should've killed him a century ago. Releasing that fury made him feel nineteen years old again, letting his emotions take control and lighting up the sky with strikes of lightning. But he was older now and didn't carry that same amount of energy to be angry for long. He did what he could and that was enough.
"I'm sorry, Granny," he mumbled to the destroyed bedroom. "There's nothing of him left here on earth. You have all of him now."
And he knew she would forgive him, just like she always did.
During those later years, he would understand the paranoid feeling of having that vampiric monster steal your child away. He never quite knew that part of Erina like that until the summer of '89.
When I was young, I experienced what Granny Erina called "my first death." I still think about him sometimes.
Joseph had little to no friends growing up. Actually, he hardly had any stable or long-lasting relationships of any kind. In his mind, all he had was Speedwagon and Erina, and that was all he needed, but he wouldn't really notice that lingering shadow of loneliness until he got older.
He kind of forced his friendship on Smokey but, hey, they ended up being a great pair. Joseph needed someone to pull him back from performing stupid stunts and thinking twice about jumping into another fight, and Smokey needed someone to pull him out of his comfort zone, to show him a little fun and how to live.
Erina obviously loved Smokey because he was a "gentleman" and "had manners", and she knew she could trust him whenever they hung out. Joseph sometimes found it annoying with just how much she liked Smokey.
"She likes you better than she likes me," he once complained. "Sometimes you feel like my babysitter."
"I'm not leaving your general safety and well-being to your grandmother and uncle," Smokey declared. "I don't want them climbing up a tree you got stuck in or some other stupid shit like that."
He slumped back and huffed. "Man, you're one boring sitter."
"You need me."
"No, you need me. Where would you be without me? You'd probably be one of those bastards who sit on people's porches all day while staring at passerbys and call that fun."
"How old do you think I am? Sixty-five?"
And the light bickering would go on and on. But Smokey was a good guy, and he was glad to have him as a friend for the rest of his life.
Joseph missed Smokey's presence when he went to Mexico and later Europe, and he definitely missed him more when he first met Caesar.
That Zeppeli kid stressed him out. Colorfully dressed, sparrow wings tucked in his hair, and the weirdo literally got up every morning to paint little triangles on his face. One would assume it was war paint, but Joseph was pretty sure that was the fashion among women in Italy at the time. Despite appearing very flamboyant, he possessed a very serious and focused personality. He let in very few distractions, and he thought in black and white, sticking it a very rigid "this is right, and this is wrong" code. His flexibility was limited, and he didn't have time to fool around. He was almost completely opposite of Joseph, and their wildly distinct characteristics clashed violently upon first sight.
"I can't believe you're leaving me here with Mr. You've-Ruffled-My-Feathers," Joseph whined to Speedwagon before he left for New York. "What do you want me to do with him?"
Speedwagon sighed and adjusted his hat. "Give him a chance, Joseph. These gods, these 'Pillar Men' need to be taken care of, and you're going to need better understanding of your Hamon in order to do that. Caesar knows what he's doing; trust him."
"You want me to trust the guy who blows bubbles out of his asshole? Yeah, because that makes sense."
Speedwagon glared. "You do this every time you meet someone new. You find one thing you don't like about them then judge their character based off of something pitiful. Caesar is not going to be as patient and understanding as Smokey, and you two have no choice but to work together. Now you can either make that time enjoyable or make it extremely hard to deal with. Be more open-minded, Joseph. The world doesn't revolve around you."
Joseph remembered staring open-mouthed at Speedwagon as he got into his car wordlessly, insulted. Before he drove away, Joseph knocked on the window and yelled through cupped hands around his mouth, "Send Smokey!"
He sighed and then turned around to face a disgruntled Caesar, arms crossed, lips pouting.
"What, Linguine?"
His jaw tightened in offense, but his shoulders eased slowly in reluctant tolerance. "Your uncle is right: we can either take these next few weeks the easy way or the hard way. And I also know what I'm doing. It's your choice of how you want to handle this."
And then he swiftly walked away before Joseph could slip in his last laugh.
Caesar was easily annoyed by Joseph's carefree, crazy, uncontrollable self, and it honestly amused Joseph to see just how far he could go with poking fun at him. He was a little thing sort of guy, picking out the minute details and making a big deal out of it. He hated being touched and needed his personal space. So, naturally, Joseph decided to push those buttons.
He would sneak into his room and would misplace his brushes, toothpaste, empty teacups, small things like that. He would also disorganize his clothes and maybe leave a drawer half-open if he really wanted to piss him off. He knew these little calamites worked because Joseph would be sitting alone in the grand hall of Lisa Lisa's headquarters, picking at his nails and just minding his own business, when Caesar would silently stormed over and smacked him hard across the face, leaving behind a bee-like stinging sensation.
Joseph, being a touchy-feely guy himself, had no idea whenever he was being invasive of someone's personal bubble, and the first few times he truly didn't mean for Caesar to freak out and bully him out of the room. He went from standing innocently next to him (supposedly breathing down his neck and knocking his constantly sweaty arm into him) from purposefully slapping his ass just to get a reaction out of him.
"What the fuck was that?" he spat at him the first time he did that.
Joseph blinked innocently. "I'm just trying to pull out that stick from your ass. It's also how Americans say 'hello.'"
"Do all Americans have a death wish? I'm surprised not more of you are dead. Have you no respect for people's personal space? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"Whoa, whoa, Caesarino. Don't get—"
"Stop calling me that, you arrogant slut!"
Joseph left the room with the messiest nosebleed since middle school.
He also extinguished any cigarette Caesar tried putting in his mouth. This he did not just to bug him, but because it really annoyed Joseph, and he wasn't ever able to pluck the tobacco sticks out from Lisa Lisa's grasp (she was way too quick for him, apparently). Once Caesar managed to light the end of one, but Joseph dumped a glass of water on the thing before he could get too far.
Caesar, naturally, sent him a vicious glare. "What the hell?"
"You don't need to copycat your crush on everything she does, you know. She's not right on everything."
"What're you—?"
He pointed at the soaked cigarette. "Those things aren't good for you. Don't you read? German doctors say smoking can lead to lung cancer, and what is the most important thing to Hamon users? Lungs."
Caesar smirked to himself and then flicked the cigarette onto one of Lisa Lisa's many ashtrays scattered around the home. "I'm just surprised you can read. Also, lungs are useful to every living thing on the planet."
He frowned. "You know what I mean—"
"And since when did you start listening to what the Nazis are saying? Are you a Nazi supporter, JoJo?"
He rolled his eyes but then added with a half-assed smirk, "Stroheim had some good ideas—"
Caesar whipped around and stomped out of the room, yelling "I don't talk with Nazis!" over his shoulder.
Suzie once tried justifying Caesar's actions and told Joseph to not get on his nerves. "One thing I learned about Caesar is that he is not a night owl. He likes getting healthy amounts of sleep and being prepared for the next day, so I wouldn't start any long conversations with him anytime pass, oh maybe nine o'clock?"
"Oh sweet Suzie, you know I'm gonna need him to explain to me the symbolism of Dante's Inferno right after dinner tonight. Thanks the tip, babe."
She frowned. "I'm being serious. He doesn't deserve all this harassing you're giving him."
He copied the same small scowl and pressed his forehead against hers, hands on his hips. "He started it," he said in a high-pitched whine, hoping to distract her and make her laugh, but she stepped back, her expression unflinching.
"He doesn't deserve it, JoJo. He's actually really sweet and caring, but you refuse to see it."
He lifted an eyebrow. "Are we talking about the same Caesar Zeppeli?"
"Watch what happens when you're kind to him. A little bit goes a long way."
He rolled his eyes but followed her advice and observed him from afar. The next morning, he watched through the crack in the kitchen door as Suzie prepared everyone their usual cup of coffee. Caesar sauntered in from another entryway and lightly rubbed Suzie's back as he greeted her in Italian before going to sit at the counter. The two spoke in their native language, snickering and asking questions about each other's days, and, Joseph noticed, Caesar was actually smiling. When Suzie walked over and handed him his morning coffee, Caesar, who apparently needed the caffeine, grabbed her hands and mumbled something quickly under his breath like he was blessing the mug in front of him. Suzie laughed and Caesar kissed her hands in thanks.
Joseph squinted. The two must've been closer than he thought.
Lisa Lisa eventually strolled in as well and grabbed her cup from Suzie as she walked by. She settled by Caesar who instantly straightened up (by Lisa Lisa's presence or by the strong cup of coffee in his hands, Joseph wasn't positive). She complimented Caesar's work the other day and, with an encouraging hand on his shoulder, told him to keep doing what he was doing. Something glimmered in Caesar's eyes, igniting the emerald shards in them, and he nodded his head rapidly, promising to keep it up before praising her own teaching. Lisa Lisa nodded once in acknowledgment, but Caesar looked at her like she was the war goddess Athena, sitting among the amateur warriors in the room.
Lisa Lisa's other Hamon users came and went, and Caesar was just as friendly to them as he was with Suzie and Lisa Lisa. Joseph felt like he was seeing a whole new side of Caesar and didn't know what to think of it. Nevertheless, he took a deep breath and pushed open the kitchen door, prepared to fully follow through with Suzie's advice.
Everyone glanced at him when he entered the room. Lisa Lisa nodded her head in greetings and Suzie was quick to press a hot cup of coffee into his hands with a sweet smile on her face. Caesar's eyes glimpsed up at him, but he didn't say anything, just went on stirring the sugar in his coffee.
Joseph swished his lips from side to side in thought before plopping his mug on the counter across from Caesar. "Hey."
He huffed and his jaw tightened slightly as his green eyes glanced back up. "What?"
He winked. "Thanks for helping me climb up the tower."
Caesar didn't react at first; he just stared back. His spoon stopped stirring and he peeked into the darkened mug. "Did you put something in here?"
"What? No. I just walked in."
"Then why are you thanking me? That's not like you."
"I'm trying something new: it's called 'being nice.'"
"And how's that working out for you?"
Joseph sighed again. "Look, I'm being serious, okay? I…wouldn't have gotten out of there without your help, so…thanks."
The kitchen was quiet, only the songs of chirping birds outside keeping them aware of the situation. Lisa Lisa watched their interaction curiously and Joseph could feel Suzie's overpowering excitement next to him, anxiously waiting for Caesar's response.
Caesar kept a sour look on his face as if he tasted something funny. Joseph rapidly grew irritated with his prolonged silence and judgmental expression, and he was about to ruin it all by opening his mouth when Caesar finally said, "You're not terrible at Hamon yourself."
"Terrible?" He chuckled. "Did you see what I did at—"
"Don't ruin it. I'll take the thanksgiving and let's leave it at that."
"Alright."
"You boys!" Suzie jumped in, hopping in place. "Look at you, getting along. Does this mean you're friends now? Are you done fighting? Miss Lisa Lisa, isn't this spectacular?"
She grabbed Lisa Lisa's arm and shook it, but their teacher kept her perfectly composed features and sipped her coffee. Their morning chats went smoothly that day, friendly and casual.
Caesar, while still being his uptight, painfully focused self, began to lighten up to Joseph. He assisted him in training, offered guidance on Hamon techniques, and even started a few conversations with him, asking about his private life and whatnot. He wasn't as open as Joseph was though, and he really had to pay close attention if he wanted to know anything about his days outside of Hamon and the Pillar Men. But Suzie ended up being right: a little bit of patience, kindness, politeness goes a long way.
Looking back on it now, Joseph regretted not acknowledging the long stares Caesar gave him when he looked away, the lingering hand on his shoulder after clapping it down on a job well done, the long hours into the night of intense training on Joseph's part. Caesar hated staying up late. Why did he do that, agree to throwing lightning strikes and blowing explosive bubbles just to better Joseph's own Hamon? Why did he look at him like that? Why did he appear like he wanted to say something but didn't know how?
But at the time, Joseph was too wrapped up with the Pillar Men to really notice or question Caesar's subtle changes in behavior. He didn't know about Caesar's father nor about their grandfathers nor why Caesar was so sensitive to the subject of family history. He didn't know, and Joseph's ignorance got the kid killed.
He still could recall the feeling. At first shock took over his body—he couldn't move, he couldn't speak. In that rickety, old castle, among the crumbled walls and the weeds that grew between the cracks in the floor, he stared blankly at the fallen stone, the gravestone of Caesar Zeppeli. He gazed at it, waiting for it to move or turn to dust or something, so Caesar would come crawling out from beneath it, broken but alive. He couldn't believe it, he wouldn't believe it.
But once the words slipped out from his lips is when it really hit him: "Caesar's dead."
That painful slice in his chest made him hunch forward, gripping at his heart. It was like someone took a knife and cut open his breast and took out something. He didn't know what exactly, but he could feel it, that empty gash of nothingness, hands reaching out from between his ribs, searching for what was lost.
The tears were thick and dense like raindrops the size of baseballs. They carried guilt, the heaviest human emotion. So burdensome they were that he fell to his knees like gravity was forcing him down. Awful and pointless thoughts pounded in his head: what if? what if? what if? So many scenarios that he was wasting his time on, but he couldn't help it.
He tried pushing those long, ghostly hands back into his chest, the ones that reached for something to make him whole again, but it was no use, at least not now. They were desperate and how could he blame them? They lost someone so quickly, so unexpectedly. You can't expect your heart to continue beating after one of its valves took a gunshot.
And the worst part was to keep on going, to have the energy and strength to drag himself up those stairs, find the vampiric bastards who were too coward to face him now, and murder them where they stood. There was no time to mourn or to remember. The red bubble made that clear: keep on going, keep on fighting. But it was so hard; he could barely stand up now. Why couldn't he just lay there and let someone else take those aching arms inside him, rip this horrible feeling out of him?
Heal me now, get rid of this emptiness in my veins.
When he told Erina this after he went back home, she became silent (for him or for Caesar, he wasn't sure). It felt like hours before she finally spoke again: "Sounds like you experienced your first death."
He ran a hand down his face and blinked away any sign of weakness. "What?"
She sat back and glanced to the side. "I know that feeling well. You experience it more when you get older, but I'm sorry that you had to feel it at such a young age. I was hoping you wouldn't have to feel it for quite some time." Her wrinkled hand gently laid upon her collarbone with the same lightness of swan wings. "It's sharp and sudden, but there's also emptiness. You can physically feel something being taken from you."
His eyes widened as he nodded his head frantically. "Yeah, like something is reaching out from you to replace the emptiness."
She looked at him with a sad smile. "Exactly."
"W-What does that mean? What I supposed to do?"
She hesitated. "It means that you miss him, so much that it hurts you. And all you can do is remember him."
He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "When does the feeling go away?"
"It doesn't. It'll lessen as time goes on, but it'll never truly go away."
He shook his head. "I-I don't wanna feel like this anymore. It's too much."
"Unfortunately, if you care about someone, you'll have to experience that pain as well. Pain is not an option, darling. What you decide to do with it does."
His vision blurred again. "Did you feel that when you thought I was dead? When…Granddad died?"
She didn't say anything, but that wavering look told him what he needed to know. His breath shook slightly as he whispered, "I'm sorry, Granny—"
Her hand enveloped his, her thumbs caressing his knuckles. "Let's not talk about that now," she whispered back and let him cry into his chest.
He tried hard to not burst like he did back in that rickety, old castle, but just thinking about him made those zombie hands dig at his chest again, persistent knocks against the lid of a coffin. Feel me, they seemed to say. Feel the pain. Let it hurt.
Erina spoke again, more quietly this time: "And, from what you told me, it seemed like Caesar really cared about you as well. Maybe…a little more than you might've known."
He rubbed a damp eye. "What does that mean?"
She reached over and brushed a few hairs out of his eyes and then squeezed his hand again. "Love is a strange thing," she muttered more so to herself. "I've seen it do bizarre things to people, myself included."
"What does that mean, Granny?"
"This Caesar child might've loved you more…than a friend."
Joseph stared at her, trying to find where she came to that conclusion. She appeared quite certain like she'd seen it somewhere before. He thought it over: he and Caesar did not like each other at first sight, that's for sure, but they eventually became comfortable with one another and shared a bond stronger than comradeship. He could certainly call Caesar a friend, but…what was Erina implying? A lover? A secret admirer of sorts?
"How can you tell?" he eventually asked.
"Well, I can't be certain, since I didn't meet him in person, but the way you described his behavior and the things he said to you isn't something that simple friends would do with one another. He made many unnecessary sacrifices just for your sake and then the biggest one: his own life. You said he looked after you when you weren't looking as if he were studying you. It sounds like he cared deeply for you, but maybe he didn't know it or didn't know how to process those feelings, so he kept to himself. I knew a man who had deep affections for another, but he never told him this and…" She sighed to herself and glanced somewhere behind Joseph as it that man was in this room, in this house. "I'm sure he carries regrets because of that."
He stared at Erina as the tears slowly overflowed and ran down his cheeks, silent and cold as the winter night. Those arms, those restless hands that wouldn't leave him alone, broke through his soul again but, instead of reaching for Erina like he'd expected, to reach for the comfort of someone who loved him, they slowly wrapped around himself, an unwanted embrace that reminded him of a graveyard. Their fingernails scratched at his skin, pried open his eyelids, curled into his mouth. Feel me, they screamed. Feel me, feel me, feel me. Don't forget me. Make room for me.
And so he did. He let those arms suffocate him, letting in the pain and letting it sink into his being like tattoos on his bones. It hurt, it hurt like a son of a bitch, but there was a bittersweet taste to it too. He couldn't describe it exactly, but it felt like the ghost of a dead or useless body was being lifted out of him. He felt heavy yet light at the same time.
"I didn't know," he sobbed to Erina over and over again. Once again, Joseph's ignorance had gotten Caesar killed, in more ways than one.
His grandmother gotten up from her armchair and went over to sit next to him on the loveseat. Her arms joined the phantom limbs of his heart, but the familiar feel of her slender yet warm embrace felt so much nicer than the cold reality of shame, so he leaned into her like he did when he was a kid. They sat there like that until he lost the ability to cry.
Once his head was somewhat clearer and he could talk with a levelheaded tone, he thought about his own feelings regarding Caesar. Did he love him? And if so, was it more than a comrade, a friend, a brother? What was Caesar to him?
"I think I did—or maybe I still do—love him, but I don't know if I was ever in love with him," he voiced his thoughts aloud one night. Suzie was in the same room as him, moving things around while he sat up in bed, staring at the ceiling, searching for the answers among the white plastered stars above. "Like, the kind of love I feel for him feels different from the love I feel for Speedwagon and Granny or Smokey or even you. I don't know what to call it."
Suzie sighed. "I always knew he wasn't into women, but I'm not sure if he knew it himself."
He looked down at her, eyebrows crinkled. "What?"
She pushed in a drawer and stared solemnly at the floor. "You saw him in Italy—he flirted with women all the time, but he didn't mean it, not really. He and I went out for some time, but it felt so awkward. It seemed like he was forcing himself to like me or forcing himself to enjoy kissing me. It was so weird, and I told him that it would be better if we just stayed friends. I didn't tell him that I thought he was a homosexual because of two reasons: one, I thought he needed to figure it out himself and it wasn't my place to tell him what he was and what he was not and two, you can't be different in any way during this time, especially anywhere in Europe, so…" She hid behind her hands. "I just left him there, confused but relieved that he didn't have to hold me anymore."
Neither of them said anything for a moment or two before Suzie slid her hands down her face and straightened up again, looking at Joseph. "But I knew he enjoyed our friendship much better than our relationship. At least he had that." She shrugged one shoulder and offered a small smile. "And at least he had you, whether you noticed it or not. I think he was just happy to have that experience with you."
He stared back, still puzzled about it all. His jaw moved around in thought, but Suzie argued the idea swirling in his mind: "You didn't kill him, you know. Just because you didn't know doesn't mean you sent him to his death. He didn't die because of you, he died for you." She paused and then added with a shaky voice, "And I know he would do it again if he had to, if it meant you could live happily."
Joseph shook his head and closed his eyes. He took one, two deep breaths and then opened his eyes again, but still the fire behind his vision burned brightly. He lifted his arms and choked out a quiet "Come here" to Suzie.
She complied, snuggling into his fractured heart as he lightly ran his fingers through her hair, chin planted on the top of her head. The silence was heavy, too heavy but Joseph didn't know what to say. Luckily Suzie broke it, her perky lips moving against his bicep: "Let's just try our best to live happily. I think that's what he would've wanted. We can't let his death be in vain, right? So, please be happy, Joseph."
He sighed again but it felt a little lighter this time. He thought about that drop of blood in the rickety old castle, floating above his gravestone, the cure to his well-being safely protected in Caesar's last breath. He sunk deeper into Suzie's arms and bit back a wobbly smile.
"Okay."
When I was young, I had many flings with different girls, but there would be one woman I would always crawl back to.
The concept was so strange to him. Being classified to one person for your entire life? Having to make daily sacrifices, spending money, time, and efforts on one person? Why was everyone doing this sort of thing? Marriage just seemed like a polite way of saying "prison".
He was turned off by Caesar's gloating on romance and true love with that one friend of his during that drive to the Pillar Men's recently discovered lair. The guy was engaged, and Caesar reacted like he just won the world cup. When he asked what the big deal was, Caesar glared at Joseph with an arrogant smirk.
"I'm guessing you don't have a girlfriend back home?"
Joseph frowned and Caesar clicked his tongue. "That's what I thought. Too bad you will never experience the glory and adventure of romance, because you're a prick and no one wants that." He then clapped his friend on the shoulder. "When we're done with this, let's go get some drinks. An engagement is worth celebrating."
"Glory and adventure of romance." What a load of bull. Marriage only held you back and having kids (which seemingly always came with marriage) was an even bigger anchor to carry.
But, of course, this was all before he met Suzie Q.
Suzie wasn't the first girl he flirted or kissed with, but she was the first one to fully capture his mind and soul. All the other girls he mindlessly played with really didn't mean much to him; it was just something to do. He never dated before or took romantic relationships seriously until he met the little cute ditz.
Her looks won him over first. When he first stepped foot into Lisa Lisa's little headquarters of Hamon users, he saw Suzie from a distance. She was dusting the shelves and air vents, dressed up in her unique and colorful maid outfit. Cute round face, big sparkling eyes, a little mouth that was always rested in a slight smile. Even though she hadn't said or done anything special, she had a certain aura to her that reminded him of bubblegum and lollipops.
Without looking away, he asked, "Who is that?"
Caesar glanced over and suddenly became defensive (it was incredibly easy to offend him, it was almost laughable). "Suzie Quatro, the maid. Don't do anything to her."
"What? Are you guys going out?"
He paused but said, "No, but don't—"
"Are you guys fucking?"
A giant frown and blush crossed his features. "That's none of your business, jackass."
"Is she available? Can you share?"
"What did I just say? Drop it, you—"
"Caesar."
He looked up at Lisa Lisa who was peeking at him over her sunglasses, unimpressed as always. "Show Joseph around. He'll need to know the ins and outs of the place, and all who work here. After that, we'll get started on training."
Caesar, Joseph could tell, greatly respected Lisa Lisa (there were times when he thought he had a crush on the older lady), but he knew he didn't like that idea at all. He swallowed whatever insult that was boiling on his lips and marched pass Joseph's goofy grin (behind that stupid bulky mask) and towards Suzie reluctantly.
"Ciao, Suzie," he greeted.
The cutie perked up and her resting smile widened. "Ciao," she echoed and spoke to him entirely in Italian. Caesar also answered purely in Italian, and Joseph felt a little drop of disappointment in his chest. Ah shit, she only speaks Italian, doesn't she?
Caesar turned to Joseph with that sour scowl on his face and lazily pointed at him. He spoke again in Italian and the only thing Joseph understood was his own name as he introduced him to Suzie.
"Ah, ciao?" Joseph said and waved his fingers at her.
Suzie nodded and repeated the greeting back.
"Uh, your name is Suzie, right? Suzie Quatro? It's a pretty name."
Slight confusion crossed her features, but she still nodded and pointed to herself and then to him. "Si, mia nome è Suzie, e il tuo nome è JoJo."
Ah, fuck.
Caesar smirked. "Suzie can't speak English, dumbass. She was born and raised in the greatest country in Europe, so if you wanna speak with her, you're gonna have to learn our language."
Joseph's eyes lifted in a smile as he gazed at Suzie. Fuck, that hopelessly puzzled look on her face was too adorable. Still looking at her, he told Caesar, "Oh, I'll have the language down by the end of the week. You can tell her I said that."
Caesar said nothing, but Suzie grabbed his wrist and said something to him, the melodic sounds rolling off her tongue like honey. Joseph knew Italian was considered a romance language, but the sound never sounded so sweet until she spoke.
"What'd she say?"
"She says you're disgusting, and she'd rather jump off a cliff than have a conversation with you."
Suzie eyed Joseph with that bright smile and he laughed a little behind his mask. Poor little thing actually thought Caesar was a good translator.
"How sweet." He then gave up on Caesar and winked at Suzie, blowing her a kiss through his mask (and fuck that thing, by the way). "I'm looking forward to spending time with you, Miss Suzie."
Whatever she had meant to say seemed to draw from somewhere along the lines that Joseph had implied, for her small shoulders lifted in delight and her smile broadened until it reached her ears. She replied again in Italian, waved goodbye, and then went off dusting the other side of the room. Joseph's eyes followed her ass along the way.
He then felt a hard bump against the back of his head. "You're unbelievable," he heard Caesar mutter under his breath.
Joseph studied Italian hard, both to learn how to talk with Suzie and to spite Caesar. Soon enough, he and Suzie were chatting away whenever they could. Turns out that she began studying on her English, though at a slower pace (Joseph later learned that he had a knack for languages and could pick them up in a matter of weeks). She liked talking about herself (like most girls) but she asked plenty of questions about his life too. They had a lot in common and they seemed to bounce off one another well. He enjoyed her cheerful, bubbly self; she was like a sugar plum fairy, a rainbow in a summer sky, the sprinkles on a cupcake. And he couldn't get enough of the sugary, almost high feeling he got around her.
"That enough bubbles for you?" he asked one day when he spotted her doing the dishes, the soapy mass almost touching her elbows.
She perked up at his voice yet there was a piece of confusion on her face again. "I'm sorry?"
"Bubbles." He pointed at the sink. "That's what those are called."
"Oh." She looked down, scooped up a handful, and looked back up at him. "Bub-bell?"
He chewed on his bottom lip as a smile creeped up his face. "Sure."
She smiled proudly at herself. "Bub-bell. What a cute word."
"Not as cute as you, though." He sauntered over. "What's that in Italian?" he asked although he already knew the answer.
"La bolla. Caesar hasn't taught you that yet? I thought he said that all the time with his Hamon…" She proved her point by blowing the palmful of soap in Joseph's direction. The clump landed on the counter next to him, but a few bubbles got stuck in his hair. He twisted his face in mock defense and she giggled.
"Caesar says a lot of things that I don't hear. Do you need help? With the dishes, I mean."
"Ah, no. I got it."
But he scooted in next to her, grabbed a plate, and began scrubbing away. Suzie snorted, "This is my job, you know."
"Yeah, but it's also an excuse for me to be next to you."
"But isn't this a woman's job?"
"What is?"
"Cleaning. And cooking. The things I usually do around here."
He made another face. "Says who?"
"Well, everyone."
"Suzie, I think you know by now that I don't listen to anyone. Besides, my grandma taught me how to do these things, so I guess she never got the message that I'm a man."
She giggled again. "She sounds lovely. I'd like to meet her someday. Does she live in Britain?"
"Ah, no. She used to, but she's in New York City, where I'm from."
"Oh, you're not English? You're accent sounds like someone from London."
"Nope, I'm American. I suppose I picked up Granny and Uncle Speedwagon's accent when I was a kid and it just kind of stuck. I hang out with them the most, so I guess that makes sense."
"Ah, I see."
There was a small but not awkward silence between them. He handed a clean glass to Suzie for her to smother with a dish towel. "So, what are you doing here exactly?" he blurted out of the blue. "Like why do you work here? You don't practice with Hamon, do you?"
"No. I don't have that special gift that you, Caesar, and Lisa Lisa have. It's just a plain old job for me. A place to live, a way to make money which I don't have a lot of. But it's fun. I like seeing all the neat things you can do. It's like lightning shooting out of your hands."
She high-fived the air and made a little "whssh" sound.
Joseph wasn't rich either (Speedwagon made it very clear that he was the one with the money, not him), but one day Joseph planned on taking over the Speedwagon Foundation and he told Suzie this. "So, once I have that kind of money, I can get you whatever your little heart desires. A big house, all the clothes you want. Hell, if you want a pet turtle, I'll get you that too."
"Okay." She rolled her eyes playfully like she didn't believe him. "But what would you want from me? There's a catch, right?"
He leaned close with a tiny smirk on his now maskless face. "You just have to be my wife."
She leaned in too and gave him the same pursed lips and quirked eyebrow. "Was that your idea of a proposal? If so, you need to try again. That was terrible."
He dropped his jaw in fake offense. "That was kind of cruel. Oh, and Hamon doesn't work like that by the way. It's more like this." He then shoveled out a mountain of soap with his massive hands and blew it at her.
"Wah!" she squealed, hiding behind her dish towel. He snickered and the two of them went to town, hurling cups of bubbles at one another as their laughter filled the empty kitchen. Water splashed on the floor and counters, bubbles drifted everywhere, and they were drenched in both. Suzie reeled her head back in laughter and Joseph saw his chance. Without thinking, he took it and pressed himself against her, his lips stifling her giggles.
It took them both by surprise, but they quickly melted into each other like marshmallows in a cup of hot chocolate. That's what she tasted like too: something syrupy and sticky and sweet. Maybe it was the lipstick she wore, those skinny petals of rouge that would no doubt leave a stain upon his own lips. She smelled like soap, obviously, but there was a faint scent of flora as well, a distant garden filled with the biggest and most beautiful blossoms. She felt like a dream, like none of this was real and he would sadly wake up once all the bubbles popped.
His heart started beating faster once she cupped his face in her hands and felt her teeth tug on his bottom lip. He chuckled into her open mouth and then dove back in. Her teeth were small, he learned, and his tongue grazed each shiny pearl. Her heels clacked and his leather boots creaked as they stumbled against the kitchen counter, Suzie's tailbone digging into the edge. He heard something else, but it was in the far distance, and he quickly dismissed it.
He was aware of how gigantic his hands and body seemed compared to Suzie. His fingers dragged up and down her back before settling down on her wide hips and began pressing tight, little circles with his thumbs into her abdomen. Her breath hitched a little at his chin and a shiver trickled down his spine when her fingernails (which he remembered were the color of blueberries) lightly dragged across his shoulder blades. He tried to keep his distance a little, so that he wasn't completely crushing her against the counter, but she kept trying to bring him down and close any available space between them.
For a moment, this sensation felt better than Hamon, and Hamon felt great. The electricity that shot through his veins and the sparklers in his chest only came second to what he was feeling now. Hamon was his high, what made him so cocky and made him want to push the limits as much as he could. It was better than drugs, it was better than sex, yet sipping Suzie's sunshine like lemonade on a hot day felt like he was being supercharged. For a moment, he almost forgot what Hamon felt like.
"Hey!"
The sudden cry startled them both and their locked lips broke away with a loud smacking sound. They both snapped toward the shout. Caesar was standing in the doorway with his hand on the doorknob, looking a bit more disgruntled than usual. When he saw Suzie's blushed cheeks and the red smears coating Joseph's mouth, he didn't burst into a fit of flames like Joseph thought he would. Instead, he crossed his arms and grinned mischievously at the pair.
"I can't wait to hear what excuse you're gonna tell Lisa Lisa when she asks where you've been, JoJo." He glanced at the floor. "You guys really made a mess; there's water everywhere."
Suzie was the first to untangle herself from him, pushing him away slightly as she wiped at her mouth and quickly redid the knot in her flowered bandana. The feeling he felt gurgling in his bloodstream withered away like a book-pressed leaf and Joseph glared viciously at Caesar. He noticed the stare and gave an unsympathetic look in response.
"What? Are you really mad at me for breaking a moment you guys weren't supposed to have? Come on, JoJo. Lisa Lisa has been calling for you."
"Oh, I've made a terrible mess," Suzie whimpered in Italian under her breath. "I have to redo everything."
She grabbed her dish towel again and went to drop on her knees to mop up the water, but Joseph thought of something first. Perhaps he did it because Caesar was right there and he hated him a bit for ruining their happy little moment, or maybe he wanted to be rekindled with the fire that Suzie made him feel again, but he nevertheless took the rag from her hands, tilted her little chin up with his finger, and then delicately ran the towel underneath her bottom lip where her lipstick had begun to fade.
"I can help clean you up," he remarked with a little grin.
"Oh no, you don't."
Caesar stomped over, ripped the towel out of his hand, threw it on the counter, grabbed Joseph's elbow, and began dragging him away from Suzie. As he hauled him out of the kitchen, Joseph smiled back at Suzie, who suddenly looked very lonely and small standing alone at the counter.
"I'll see you soon?" he said with a wink.
"Stop talking," Caesar snarled just as Suzie bit her lip with a tiny nod, waving her blueberry nails at him.
They couldn't stop seeing each other for the rest of their time in Italy. Up until Joseph and the others left to retrieve the Red Stone of Asia, they spent every free moment with one another. Runaway dates by the seashore, locking themselves together in each other's bedrooms, having snack breaks on the balcony—it was all fun, no matter where they were or what they did.
In short, he couldn't get enough of her and the thrills she made him feel, so it was no wonder when he unexpectedly popped the question "Hey, let's get married" when he was fully recovered from his fight with Kars.
Suzie was a little hesitant at first (probably from the suddenness of it and lack of plans), but she eventually got on board. Within a month, they were legally married, and Joseph took her back home to show her off and begin their lives anew.
He never stopped loving her, even after what happened in Japan and everything that sprang up because of that.
He didn't know why he did it—maybe he was feeling lonely, for he was often travelling around the world on either behalf of his job at the Speedwagon Foundation or his personal quests to figure out his family history—but, in the end, whatever the true reason was didn't matter. What mattered was that he did it; affairs were never accidental.
He met Tomoko at a small café where she worked to get through college. He was there with work (he made a loose connection with Dio's father on a trading ship that went from England to Japan in the late 1850s, and he thought he must've worked there for a short time, but the link ended up going nowhere in particular and he soon dropped it). Tomoko sat with him on her break, gave him free coffee, and was exceptionally kind to him. She was incredibly beautiful with her arched eyebrows and long, silky black hair, and her smile made him feel welcomed.
At first, he thought she was just being sweet to a lonely old man sitting by himself, visibly stressed by whatever he had been working on with his numerous papers and journals, but her body language and comments were slowly being steered in another direction. Joseph vaguely remembered talking about his daughter and grandson, and she would've had to see the gold wedding band on his right hand, the flesh and bone one. But, again, it didn't matter what he or she said. They both went to her apartment later that night after her shift.
When he left the next morning (without telling Tomoko goodbye or leaving her with any way to contact him), he remembered that sickening drop in his stomach, the horrible realization of how badly he fucked up.
What have I done?
He kept that night a secret for a few years. He didn't like the way it ate at him like a pack of ants crowding around a piece of food. It made him twitch with nervousness and shift uncomfortably in self-degrading ways. He never showed up at that café again and wouldn't return to the town of Morioh until 1999, but even then, he followed Josuke's wishes of leaving his mother alone.
"Just showing up for shits and giggles wouldn't be enough for my mom," he argued with him, his arched eyebrows furrowing in anger. "She'd want you to stay, and you can't do that. I won't let you hurt her again, so just-just do what you have to and leave, okay? You have another family in America, and we don't need you here. We've been doing just fine without you."
The words stung, of course, for Joseph wanted nothing more but to somehow salvage the pieces of a family's broken heart that he destroyed, but Josuke had a point. He obeyed his son and continued living as a ghost in Tomoko's mind.
Jotaro was probably the angriest when Tomoko's call came in at 1989, shortly after they returned from Egypt.
Joseph had no idea how she was able to reach him, but she found a way. In frantic shouts, she said that his son—their son—almost died from a terribly high fever, a sickness that developed out of thin air, but he was surprisingly okay now as though it was never there.
The word "son" shattered everyone that day. Joseph never knew of Josuke's existence until then; he wasn't afraid of him serving as a breathing piece of evidence of Tomoko and Joseph's affair, but rather of Josuke growing up without a father, and possibly becoming curious of why he wasn't there. Did his father hate him? Was his father scared of raising him and left his mother to care for him alone? Did he hate his father? Those questions were like pins in his heart.
Holly was upset too (at the very least), weakly hitting him at his chest while yelling "How could be so irresponsible? How could do this to Mom, to that poor boy? What is wrong with you?" Jotaro's eyes were like slits of poison and his teeth poked through his strong grimace. The shadow of Star Platinum hovered behind his back which always served as a shield of protection over Joseph and their friends, but now it resembled something violent, a bloodstained gladiator raising his battle axe to some lowly villager at the wrong place at the wrong time.
"I hope she divorces your ass," he then bit at him, his voice darker than the bottom of the sea, sharper than a box of razorblades. "I hope you rot for what you've done."
Dio Brando had been terrifying, yes, with that malicious grin plastered on his face as he popped from one place to another in no time at all, following you like a phantom in the night. But Jotaro's constant spark of fury that had the capacity to burn down mountains was enough to make the most fearless warrior shake his knees in terror.
Suzie remained silent for the longest time. She was always quiet whenever she was mad, and for a girl who loved to talk, about everything and anything, with the same boundless energy that she had when she was eighteen, this was an uneasy experience.
"Suzie, I'm sorry," he tried pleading with her. "I-I don't know what I was thinking—no, I wasn't thinking at all. Tell me what to do. Tell me what will make you speak again. I'm sorry, okay? I'm so, so sorry."
But she just sat there, hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes aimed to the floor. No tears streamed down her face, no rain of fists showered on him, no hateful words slipped from her lips that he clearly deserved. There was absolutely nothing; she was giving him the silent treatment.
Unable to withstand it, he dropped to his knees and grabbed at her hands like a shy cat asking permission to crawl onto her lap. He tried catching her gaze but instead of seeing the shine in her eyes, he saw mad gears spinning behind her stare, fully concentrated on anything but his physical presence. His own vision began to blur, his heartbeat was wildly out of rhythm.
"Suzie, please talk to me," he tried again, this time in a hushed whisper to keep his voice from breaking. "Please, baby, I—"
"Don't call me that."
He watched her jaw twist around, forming all sorts of arguments but still nothing fell out. Her hands felt stiff under his own; he couldn't recall a time when she didn't soften under his touch.
Another long moment of dreadful silence passed between them before Suzie finally sniffed and removed her hands from his loose grasp. She turned the wheeled chair away from him and then stood up, and the vacancy that overcame him felt so cold. He stumbled to his feet, almost desperately.
"I need to go somewhere," Suzie mumbled to the ground, an unnatural frown creased into her wrinkles. "I need to think about…all of this. I-I can't see you right now, not when I feel like this."
She slowly began to walk away, her heels clicking against the hardwood floor, the sound like drops of water in a big, lonely cave. Joseph wanted to run after her, but he knew he was in no position to do so. He put his hands on his hips and stared at the floor. The disappointment he brought to the Joestar family was hefty; he felt like Atlas trying to carry a shattered world.
He only looked up when he heard Suzie's heels quickening in pace and when he did, he barely caught a picture of her enraged expression before she backhanded him across the face. It was sharp and quick like the spark of a flame, and he felt a thin creek of blood welling under the wound. It must've been from the cut diamonds on her ring.
"At least you have Hamon to heal that," Suzie cried, "but you will never be able to fix what you did to me!"
She left him with those words for nearly two months. Joseph had no idea where she went during that time. He didn't know where to go or who to call and the anxiety that he so rarely felt began nibbling at his soul again. He figured this was what she must've felt like when he was off in Egypt or anyplace else when he went diving into his family history missions.
But who was he, to compare their miseries? It was not the same.
He eventually got a phone call from her out of the blue. He sprang out of his seat when she said his name.
"Suzie?"
"Yeah, it's me." She still sounded tight like she did when she left, but he could also hear the willingness to try on the other end of the phone.
"H-Hey. How are you? Where have you been?"
"I'm okay. I've been driving around, going from place to place—Italy, Switzerland, Japan. Just…doing some thinking."
A pause, one of massive strength. "Did you…find what you were looking for?"
She sighed and avoided the question. "I'm, uh, going to see your grandmother today, if you wanted to meet me there."
He looked out the window. The cemetery was only a few blocks away, which meant she was back in the city. "Yes, of course. What time?"
"Does noon sound good?"
"Sounds perfect." Now it was his turn to sigh. "Suzie, I—"
"We'll talk there. I'll see you then."
The phone buzzed and her voice was gone again.
Joseph bit the inside of his cheek as he slowly hung up. He hated the way that conversation went—they talked like they were strangers, but even when they were strangers over fifty years ago, they hadn't spoken like that. He also knew what she was doing: she wanted him to express his concerns and problems in front of the woman who raised him, the woman he cared the most about.
He exited the house right after the call, stopping by the florist shop first to get Erina her primroses and Suzie a single pink lily, her favorite flower. He decided not to wear gloves that day because his hand was so sweaty as he drove over to the cemetery, his hands flexing at the steering wheel. He didn't know what to say or do, he didn't know if there was anything he could do. This meeting would make or break everything between them.
No fucking pressure, right?
She was already waiting there by the Joestar family grave, looking down at a stone in the freshly cut grass. The grey marble stone that represented the family rose to the sky with a cross sitting on top. "The end is never truly the end" was etched into the monument and then separate headstones circled the monument. Dead flowers in stone vases were placed at each headstone with various other treasures: photographs, bottles of wine, coins, candles. Suzie stood in front of Erina's grave and beside her was Jonathan's (although instead of a body buried six feet under, there was a small box with their wedding picture tucked inside, the only thing Joseph could find that vaguely belonged to Jonathan). Robert E.O. Speedwagon was beside him and Joseph brought Jonathan's father, George's, body from England to bury here as well. George II, Joseph's father, was next to Erina's other side, but Lisa Lisa did not lay beside him; her body remained in California with her second husband. Three awaiting graves laid on the other side of the monument: Joseph, Suzie, and Holly.
Joseph lumbered over and quietly replaced the brown, shriveled flowers with the new red ones in his grasp. "Hi, Granny," he mumbled to the ground. "Sorry I haven't been keeping track of the flowers."
Suzie tucked a strand behind her ear, smiling softly. "She would've smacked you across the head, keeping the family grave in poor shape."
"It isn't terrible. The wine is still there; no one stole it yet."
"You know she hardly ever drank."
"That was for Speedwagon, not for her." He sighed dramatically and then glanced at Jonathan's grave. "Did you know that your wife could be a pain in the ass sometimes?"
Suzie giggled but kneed him in the back. "That was almost blasphemy, what you just said. She was a saint."
"To you. She liked you more than she liked me."
This conversation, though an icebreaker, was much more natural and fitted how they usually talked. Little jokes, laced in sarcasm, smiles and laughter. That was more like them, and Joseph enjoyed it while it lasted.
He slowly stood back up and they fell into another deep pond of silence. Joseph itched to say something, but, knowing himself, he knew he would ruin any possibility for redemption in their relationship. Besides Suzie had failed to share her feelings about the affair yet.
Her eyes travelled to his shoes. "I'm very mad at you."
Joseph nodded his head. "I know."
"You hurt me."
"I'm sorry."
"Have you spoken with her yet? With this other woman?"
"No."
"What about the boy? Does he know anything?"
"He's only four years old. He wouldn't understand anything."
Here it was again, those many shades of guilt and regret bubbling in his bloodstream like water on a stove. His thumbnail began digging into the stem of the lily, his teeth grazed his bottom lip. He stared down at the top of Suzie's head, waiting for her to look at him.
Suzie remained quiet for too long again. Joseph shifted his weight onto one foot, closer to her. "Tell me what you're thinking."
Her tiny shoulders slumped as she sighed. "I don't know what to think, Joseph. I thought long and hard; I didn't want to say anything that I didn't mean or regret later. I was just…blind with fury."
He pursed his lips. "I'm sorry for causing you so much pain. You and Holly and Jotaro."
She shook her head. "And that poor child."
"Yeah…" Just as Joseph was about to look away, Suzie glanced up.
Even though wrinkles had outlined her face and her hair was an ash grey color, she still looked just as charming as the day he met her. But instead of that resting smile on her lips and that usual sparkle in her sky-blue eyes, tiredness and sorrow pulled at her features, making her look as old as she really was.
"I don't think I can stop loving you, Joseph," she whispered, on the verge of tears. "I tried to make myself hate you, but I can't. I tried, I really did, but I keep on thinking of everything you did for me. I've never been disappointed or truly mad at you before because you never gave me a reason to. In my mind, the good that you've done outweighs the bad. You walked through hell and back for our daughter's safety and to bring justice to your family's name. You also gave up Hamon after we had Holly. You could look as old as her now if you had kept up with it, but you didn't. You decided our family was more important and you wanted to grow old with me. I couldn't have asked for a more thoughtful and sentimental thing from you. And I can see it in your eyes that you really are sorry. You're not lying to me, and I know when you're lying. I want to hate you, Joseph, but I can't."
He watched a tear slip down her cheek and he wanted to wipe it away, but something told him that touching her wasn't an option right now. So, he shyly twirled the lily in his hand, looking at its salmon-colored petals one of which gently brushes against her arm, and she tentatively takes it from him.
"I'll always love you, Suzie," he mumbled back. "I know there will always be a wedge between us now and I'm very sorry for that. I-I don't really know what else to say. I'm sorry, really and truly sorry."
"I know you are." She hesitated and then sighed shakingly. "And…and I forgive you." Just as his heart began to soar, she added "But I won't forget," bringing him back down to earth and to face the consequences of his actions.
He pursed his lips and nodded. He worked around the dry feeling in his mouth, as if it were stuffed with cotton balls, and then asked in a careful murmur, "Can-Can I still be married to you?"
He couldn't tell if she was still had on her wedding band—she was wearing black leather gloves—but he noticed her glancing at his right hand, at his golden ring. The soft wrinkles in her slender cheeks creased as she let slip a small smile before looking back up at him. She nodded.
It felt like an elephant had taken one of its feet off his chest. He exhaled and closed his eyes. He had ruined too many lives from that one night, he had lost the trust of nearly all whom he loved. Having everyone frown at you or doubletake at everything you said was exhausting; he knew he had to work very hard to win back his own family, something he never thought he'd had to do. He hated this feeling of neglect; it reminded him of that time when Granny Erina purposedly ignored him for telling her to get over Jonathan's death. But that was only a few hours—this recovery would probably take years.
Unable to speak without bursting into tears, he smiled back at Suzie and mouthed "Thank you." She looked down at their hands and then wiggled her fingers at the space between them. He moved the dead primroses over to his mechanical hand and then wrapped his other hand around hers. Her fingers intertwined with his own and he savored the familiar warmth of her tiny palm against his which had been cold for too long.
Her heels clicked as they slowly turned and began making their way toward the graveyard's exit, the eyes of the Joestar ancestors watching them go. Joseph watched his and Suzie's feet fall in sync as they walked.
"I guess this means you're paying for dinner for the rest of the year," Suzie joked into the heavy silence.
Joseph burst out laughing and the relief never felt so good. "Yeah, I guess so."
When I was young, I had no intentions of having children, or getting married, for that matter.
If you told young Joseph that he was going to be a father and had to help both wife and baby with literally everything, he would've thrown a fit and push back all the responsibilities as far as possible. But slightly older Joseph was more than up to the challenge; in fact, he was really excited, and he'd often daydream of what the newest Joestar would be like. Would they look more like him or like Suzie? What would their interests be? What did they want to be when they grow up? What would make them feel alive? Whatever it was, Joseph wanted to be there with them, give them the entire world. He wanted them to have more opportunities than he did, to live deliciously, to carry no regrets. He wanted everything for them.
Suzie's pregnancy was apparently harder than most—she was sick all the time and barely had enough energy to get out of bed sometimes. Joseph read "what to expect when you're expecting" books, ran out and got whatever it was Suzie wanted in that moment, crouched behind her and held back her hair as she vomited her guts into a bucket several times a day. But the pressure of not being able to do anything and seeing Suzie's face in a constant state of discomfort made him anxious.
And he was never anxious, not even when he laid in a pool of his own blood at Kars's feet, practically waiting to die.
"I wanted to be one of those glowing pregnant ladies who always look good in everything," Suzie complained as she tittered down the stairs while holding her breasts in place, so she could watch her tiny toes inch down the steps (which he doubt she even could see—it looked like she was carrying a pumpkin in there). "But I'm always sweaty and smelly and I can't eat anything without puking it up. My baby is trying to kill me, which is very rude of them."
He held out his hand. "You always look gorgeous, baby, vomit and all."
She glared at him as she clamped down on his hand (thank God it was his fake one). "I just want this baby out."
"Me too."
"Shut up."
"Yes, dear."
He telegrammed Erina often because she had a baby before, right? She knew what Suzie was going through, right? She and Speedwagon made lots of visits over before Suzie made the suggestion that Erina should help deliver the baby when it arrived.
His bushy eyebrows crinkled in puzzlement. "What?"
She turned to Erina. "You told me once that you were studying to be a doctor, right? You went with your father to India to practice and you even helped your husband whenever he was hurt, right? I remember you once told me a story about you helping a lady give birth to twins. Won't you please help deliver my baby? I trust no one else but you."
Erina blinked and stroked Suzie's reddened cheek. "Oh, my darling, I haven't practiced in so long. I'm honored, but I think you and the baby would be much safer in a hospital—"
"Oh, please, Grandma Joestar? The Speedwagon Foundation has doctors who can assist you if need be. I'll do whatever you tell me, I promise! I want you to do it. I want you to be the first person my little baby sees when they come out, so they know that this world isn't so bad after all." She clamped her hands together in prayer. "Please, will you do it? Pretty please with a cherry on top?"
"When I patched up my husband all those years ago, I wasn't really equipped or professional enough to do it on my own, and he controlled Hamon as well, so he could heal his body well enough without me. And if I were to perform the delivery here, I wouldn't be able to give you these wonderful medicines that we have now. You'll experience the same raw pain that I felt when my son was born fifty years ago."
"I don't care. I'll endure it, I can handle it. I just want you there. Please, Grandma Joestar?"
Erina eventually caved in, and Joseph didn't know what to think of it. Yes, Erina had been a big help during Suzie's pregnancy, and he also wanted her to be there when their child decided to make its way into the world, but he never saw Erina perform any medical miracle during his childhood besides the basic first-aid care whenever he fell or got punched by playground bullies. He wanted nothing short of the absolute best for Suzie, and, no offense, he wasn't sure if his seventy-year-old grandma was the best choice.
Speedwagon and Erina settled into Joseph and Suzie's place when her due date crept closer. Erina cracked open old notes of hers and new medical studies, and Speedwagon had two nurses on backup whenever code red was in action. Suzie's nerves calmed down, knowing they were literally just down the hall and seeing her relaxed eased his mind a little too.
But, despite his mental preparation, seeing the actual birth would still leave him in shambles, feeling like a chicken with its head cut off.
In the middle of an abnormally warm December night, Joseph was awoken by Suzie's claws frantically scratching at his side.
His eyelids peeled open as his back arched at the burning sensation. "Hn-ow, ow, babe! What, what is it?"
He shifted around to meet Suzie's panicked eyes staring at the ceiling, her knuckles white as she grabbed his hipbone. "The baby," she mumbled in tiny gasps. "The baby, the baby."
He shot up in bed and tenderly placed his hands on her stomach. "What? What about it?"
She rammed her fist into his side again. "It's coming, what do you think, moron? Go get your grandmother."
"Ah, shit, shit, shit," he muttered under his breath as he slapped himself awake and scrambled out of bed, not bothering to put on a shirt.
He threw open their bedroom door and shouted into the darkened hallway, "Grandma! Granny Erina! Suzie, she-she needs you!"
One door on the right burst open and a ruffled Speedwagon came out, a lit candle in his hand despite the electricity installed in their home. He blinked several times in growing nervousness and went to chew on his thumbnail but thought better of it and told Joseph to wake the nurses while he got Erina.
He leaned over the balcony railing to the living room below. "Hey, what am I paying you guys for? Get up! My wife is gonna have a baby, for Christ's sake!"
"Okay, not like that," he heard Speedwagon say behind him, but it did the job. He saw the two nurses rush to their feet and jog over to the staircase on the far right.
Erina came out of her bedroom with her long, silvery hair done in two braids and with Speedwagon's hand on the small of her back, leading her to Joseph and Suzie's room. As if to prove that Joseph wasn't pulling a very cruel joke on them all, Suzie let out a strangled growl, as if she were biting into something to keep from screaming bloody murder.
That low yet concerning sound and the rippling tremor that fired up Joseph's spine reminded him of that time in Italy when Esidisi possessed Suzie. He had to dig his fingernails into the palms of his hands to keep them from throwing a Hamon-radiated punch at the air.
"Go get a couple bowls, some water, a pair of scissors, and as many dish rags as possible," Erina muttered to Speedwagon in a surprisingly calm tone.
Speedwagon nodded firmly. "Of course."
The nurses ran pass the three of them and barged into their bedroom. Joseph caught a glimpse of Suzie's worried face as she clawed at the space where he used to lay.
"Wha-what about me?" he asked Erina, following her to the room. "What do I do?"
She gripped the door, stepped inside, and then gave him a steady gaze that was meant to tell him that everything was alright. "Whatever you choose to do is fine. Cry, scream, punch in your own wall, whatever it is you may feel like doing. Just stay outside; you're not allowed in this room."
His lips pulled back into an angry scowl. "Not allowed in my own bedroom?"
"Yes, I don't want any men to cross this threshold until mother and baby are taken care of. In fact, go help Speedwagon find the things I asked for."
He gritted his teeth together. He never punched his grandmother before, but life was strange and made you do crazy things. "What the hell, Granny? That's my wife and child in there—"
"You're way too emotional right now and you'll just get in the way."
"What if Suzie needs me?"
"She'll be fine. You'll more than likely annoy her and make her upset when I need her to be as calm as possible."
"Calm? How can she be—"
"Speedwagon wasn't allowed to be there when I gave birth. Your father was kicked out when your mother gave birth to you. The worry would've eaten them alive."
"Speedwagon's always worried, Granny! I can do this!"
Erina lifted one eyebrow. "Are you telling me that you're not scared right now?"
"Of course not. Why would I—"
Suzie let out another shriek and Joseph visibly flinched in response while Erina hardly budged. "Fucking hell!"
"It's okay to be scared from time to time, JoJo," Erina stated coolly, "just don't let it control you."
"If you say I'm scared one more time, I'll fuckin—"
"Alright, show me where the bowls are, JoJo," Speedwagon cut in, slapping a hand over the star on his shoulder as he forcibly turned him around. "You want to be helpful, mate? Then show me where the bowls and dish towels are."
Momentarily distracted, Joseph practically sprinted down the hallway while Erina closed (and ended up locking) the bedroom door. Speedwagon and Joseph stood out in the hallway for what ended up being ten hours, just in time for the sun to rise and city noises to come back alive. Joseph did end up slamming his fist down on a desk, causing a glass of water to fall and break and the solid oak to dent under his weight. Speedwagon let him cuss and pace and shout, but also tried calming him down which consisted of telling him stories of how he and Joseph's father reacted to their child's birth. Joseph didn't remember those tales now because, uh, hello? New fathers don't recall that shit, just the frantic moving and screaming wife behind a closed door.
"Hold me back, Speedwagon," he finally said.
"Why?"
"Because if she screams again, I'm breaking down the goddamn door."
"She'll be fine, JoJo. You really need to calm down; I'm too old to hold you down anymore."
He then slid down to the ground with his face in his hands. "I think I'm gonna pass out."
"You can do that. It'll probably be better anyway."
"Hey, fuck you, Speedwagon. Don't act like you wanna do that too—"
Among the ruckus, out came a new one: gurgled crying.
Both men straightened up; Joseph struggled to his feet again, feeling a little light-headed like a hot-air balloon. They glared anxiously at the wood—Joseph memorized the swirly lines in the pattern from having stared at it for ten fucking hours. More noises echoed back along with the high-pitched crying: mumbled voices, brisk walking, metal scrapping against ceramic. A solid five minutes passed of the two just standing and staring until the lock turned in the doorknob and one of the young nurses pulled open the door.
"Would you like to see your daughter, Mr. Joestar?" she asked quietly.
Something throbbed in his chest at that word like someone had their hand on his heart in order to slow the rapid thumping before it exploded. "Daughter?"
She nodded with a small smile.
Joseph opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Speedwagon elbowed him forward and answered for him: "Of course he would."
He nodded his thanks and then creeped in behind the nurse.
Panic entered his heart again when he saw all the blood. It caked the shiny instruments on the desk, bowls were filled with red-tinted water, Erina and the nurses' gloves were also smeared with blood, the burgundy bedsheets were now a darker shade, and Joseph did almost pass out at the condition of Suzie. He would've thought she was dead if it weren't for her chest rising and falling with each strangled breath she took. Sweat glistened on her face, chest, and bare legs which were spread apart with various liquids coating her inner thighs.
"Suz—"
"Over here, Mr. Joestar."
He glanced to the side and saw the same nurse holding a pink, little thing wrapped up in a white towel. Its eyes were shut tight, and its tiny arms and legs kicked the air, getting used to all the free open space compared to the tight cocoon of a mother's womb. Still, it cried and who could blame it? It's scary entering a new world of light and discoveries and the unknown. But Joseph's heart—it went through so much this past night—seemed to charge itself back up into a whole new sense of wonder. Joseph thought he fell in love with Suzie upon first sight, but this feeling was stronger, more persistent.
The nurse chuckled at the dumb, starstruck expression crossing Joseph's face. "My husband looked the same way with my first newborn. But she's quite a beauty, isn't she?"
"Quite," echoed Erina behind him. "Looks just like Suzie, doesn't she?"
Joseph honestly couldn't tell. But damn, they were right. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life.
"Would you like to hold her?"
Unable to speak, Joseph just nodded his head.
The nurse carefully pressed the little angel into his huge hands and that supercharged feeling in his guts could've imploded with thunder and sparks. It was like holding a glass chandelier, a priceless artifact, the fragile heart of someone you loved. She looked so small, so vulnerable, and yet so perfect. She cried and wiggled in his grasp, but the sound was almost lyrical to his ears. She was here, and she was his.
"Hey there, baby girl," he cooed with a growing smile on his lips, adjusting her into the crook of his arm (his mechanical hand must've been too cold for her to touch yet). "What's up? I'm your dad, JoJo. I've been waiting so long to see you."
"Does she have a big head?" came Suzie's groggy voice. "I feel like she has a big head."
He turned to see Suzie wipe the back of her hand across her slick forehead. The nurses had just finished cleaning the blood off of her and had laid a new clean blanket over her legs. Erina had gotten on her feet and went to go wash her hands in the adjoining bathroom sink, giving Joseph some room to wiggle his way over to his usual side of the bed.
He settled by her side. "Look, Suzie. She's perfect, right?"
Suzie gasped when he presented their daughter to her. "Oh, my goodness, I'm gonna cry again." It wasn't until she mentioned that that Joseph noticed the dried tearstains down the sides of her temples. Suzie looked like a mess, but he also never seen her look so powerful before.
"Can I hold her?" she whimpered happily as Joseph cautiously handed her over.
The baby—their little baby—laid across Suzie's collarbone with her cheek pressed into her shoulder. A strong sense of pride flickered in Joseph's chest when he spotted the dark star-shaped birthmark on her left shoulder. Suzie did cry again but she also smiled so widely, it looked like it pained her. "Oh, my gosh, you were so worth it," she told her daughter. "All the contractions, all the vomiting, all the yuckiness. All of it. Oh my, she's so stinkin' cute! I love you, my little sweetie-pie. I love you so, so much and I don't even know who you are yet."
Joseph leaned down and pressed a firm yet gentle kiss to Suzie's cheek just as one of the nurses asked them, "Have we decided on a name yet? For her birth certificate?"
The new parents appeared stumped as though she just asked them for the answer to a difficult math equation. Suzie looked at Joseph as she picked at her lip. "Oh, I don't know. We were so worried about the baby's health and my pregnancy that we didn't really think about those things."
Joseph put his chin in his hand. "Yeah, I'm gonna let you decide on that one before I pick something I might regret later."
"Really? You want me to pick something out?"
He smoothed back her damp, tousled hair from her forehead. "It can be whatever you want, baby. Anything except Ruth; I fucking hate that name."
The nurses chuckled as Suzie knocked her knuckles against his knee with a playful mope. "Okay, now, um…" Her eyes circled the air as if the answer was somewhere among the wallpaper and curtains. She pursed her chapped lips, blinked, and then looked to the nurse with the clipboard. "Holly. Holly Joestar, please."
"Holly," she repeated, scribbling down the name.
"Why Holly?" Joseph inquired.
Suzie shrugged. "There are hollies everywhere in December and she's a December baby. So, anytime we think of December, we can think of her."
Joseph smiled warmly. "That sounds like something you'd say."
"Hey, you asked, mister."
And life sped so quickly after the day Holly Joestar entered their lives, so quickly that it was sad to think about.
Being the first (and only) baby between Joseph and Suzie, they still didn't really know how to raise one and figured they would just whip it. As long as she knew she was loved and precious in their eyes, what could go wrong?
In Holly's first year, there were a lot of sleepless nights for the both of them and Joseph, who was working alongside Speedwagon at the foundation, stayed home with the mother and daughter the first month or two, and tried his absolute best to make it home early each night until she turned one. There was a lot of crying and messes, and little to no free time. Yes, that part was annoying, but he could never stay mad at his little girl.
"Maybe I can get further than one paragraph tonight," Suzie commented one night when she tucked herself into bed with a book in her hands.
"Unlikely," Joseph responded as he slipped out of his shirt.
"I can dream. Let me have my dreams."
Holly's nursery was in the room right next to theirs, so if she cried, they would be able to hear her just fine. Joseph looked at the wall above the dresser, where Holly's cradle was placed on the other side of the room. He was practically waiting for her to start sobbing, but when he stood there, staring blanky at the wall for at least two minutes, he hummed to himself in mild surprise.
"Maybe she'll actually sleep through the entire night," he wondered aloud.
Suzie let out a genuine laugh. "You can dream, mio amore."
He glanced down at her. Her blonde hair was let loose from its typical ponytail and ran down the pillow like a river. Her stomach was now flat, but he knew the stretch marks curved around her lower belly would be there to stay. The light from her lamp shone off her naked legs and her toes were painted a warm shade of red (she was so excited to be able to see her toes again and he was excited he didn't have to paint her toes for her anymore).
With Holly quiet for now, Joseph saw this opportunity and, of course, couldn't let it go to waste.
The bed groaned under his weight as he crawled atop of Suzie and plucked the book out of her hands before marking her place and putting it on her cluttered nightstand. "Sorry, not sorry," he admitted, "but we haven't had sex in a while, and I'd like to start again."
Suzie sighed theatrically, but she didn't push him away. "You're so romantic. Just don't lay on my hair like you did last time—that really hurt."
"Yes, your majesty," he joked before showering her with sloppy kisses.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him as his lips and teeth grazed her slim neck, inhaling that sweet flora scent on her that never really went away. His hands travelled up her thin nightgown, feeling the youth of her strong hips and thighs but the experience of motherhood on her stomach as well. Her body was a little different from before; everything was little bit bigger: her breasts, her feet, her thighs (and not that he was complaining), yet she was still small in his arms.
He withdrew his hands to undo the belt around his waist. Just then a small wail sounded behind him.
Ugh, c'mon, Holly.
Suzie stopped automatically and peered over his shoulder like how a mother lion would peer after her cub. "Did you hear that?"
"Nope, nothing at all." He continued kissing her neck and shoulder as he tried again at his belt, hoping that the metallic clanging was loud enough to distract her.
But there it was again, louder and longer this time.
Joseph collapsed on top of Suzie's chest, moaning in slight frustration. Mission failed.
"Oh, my poor baby," Suzie murmured as she tried shoving Joseph off of her. "I'll go get her."
"No, I got it." He straightened up and began lumbering over to the door.
"What if she needs to be fed?"
"You fed her half an hour ago. She's fine; I'm sure it's just attention she wants." He paused at the doorway and threw back an arrogant smirk her way. "And besides, I want her to say 'Dada' first."
Suzie poked her tongue out but fell back into the covers.
He exited the room, walked a few paces, and turned into the nursery. A floor-lamp was on its lowest setting in the corner of the room and in the other corner was a squirming baby in the cradle that Erina owned when Joseph was an infant.
He sauntered over and crossed his arms over the cradle's banister, raising an eyebrow at her. "C'mon, Holly. I'm trying to fuck your mother. Can you give me, like, twenty minutes or something?"
But Holly screamed, begging for someone to come over and hold her and love on her for a while.
"Alright, alright, I get it. Life is oh-so-hard, isn't it?"
So he did just that. He picked her up and rocked her in his muscled arms. He waltzed around the room, sat in the rocking chair, babbled sweet nothings to her until she eventually was satisfied and fell asleep once more.
He smiled down at her sleeping face, so chubby and pinched. He could definitely get used to this.
Those ended up being his favorite family moments, believe it or not, just sitting around and enjoying one another's company. It sounded weird coming from him, the boy who needed to fuel the flames in his bloodstream just to stay alive, who needed to lose his life and then come bouncing back just to get through another day. He thought it would be boring or the family life would only hold him back from what he really wanted to do. But, when he became a father, he realized he wanted nothing more than to see his baby girl grow and continue to do so until he would fade away from this world.
He treasured the times laying on the floor with baby Holly, watching her play with dangling hoops and dolls or learning how to roll or just listen to her babble for hours and hours. He always laughed at the silly faces Suzie would make as she pleaded "Say 'Mama!'" to a very confused Holly. He loved whenever he came home from work and Holly would always celebrate somehow—scream-laughing in Suzie's arms as her chubby hands reached out and squeezed the air until he came over and held her, crawling across the hardwood floor with a big, toothless grin on her face, wobbling on unsteady legs while clutching a stuffed animal in her arms. Just simply seeing the sparkle in her eyes was more than enough to brighten his day.
Even as she went on growing, blooming into the beautiful ray of sunlight that she was in his life, she always kept that sparkle in her eye. Like that time when she was crushing on the little boy she sat next to in her kindergarten class.
"What's he like?" Suzie had asked, egging her on.
"He has blond hair like me and brown eyes and lots of freckles!" she exclaimed like that Snow White princess she loved so much.
"Ah, he sounds perfect!"
Joseph pressed his face against hers. "You're not dating until you're thirty-two."
She giggled but made the same sour expression he was making at her. "No, Daddy. I really like him."
"Okay, how's this: you can have a boyfriend, but only if he beats me in an arm-wrestling match." He put his elbow on the coffee table and curled his mechanical hand into a fist, the muscles in his arm bigger than Holly's head. Hamon radiated off his limb like the sparks from a campfire.
"No, Daddy!" She giggled a shrill laugh, clutching his bicep and watching him to see what other crazy shit might come out of his mouth.
Or that time when he taught her how to ride a bike. The park was pretty busy with kids climbing up and down the playset and adults either sitting on nearby benches or going for their morning jog, but they managed to find a large section of the parking lot empty. She was having lots of difficulties with finding balance and not being dependent on anyone but herself, yet she never complained and when Joseph told her to keep on going, she complied without a second thought. Maybe she got that stubborn determination from him too?
He held onto the back of her seat as she adjusted her blocky helmet. "You got this, princess," he told her. "I know you do."
"Okay…" She grabbed the handles again. He spotted a small scrape on her left wrist, but she apparently hadn't noticed it.
"Say 'I can do this.'"
"I can do this."
"Alright, you ready?"
"Yup."
"Let's go, then."
He kept a steady hand wound around the bottom of the seat as he lightly jogged beside her. At first, she twisted the handles jerkily, but when she seemed stable enough, he slowly removed his hand and watched her go.
For a good five seconds, she was wheeling down the parking lot by herself and Joseph slowed to a stop with a giant grin on his face. "There you go!" he hollered after her, clapping. "You got it, I told you!"
"I'm doing it, Daddy! Look at me!" She then glanced back with that sunny glint in her eye, her smile just as dazzling. For a moment, his parent instincts took over and he wanted to sprint after her and envelope his baby girl into an indestructible bubble. Because when he saw her biking away without him, he thought she was growing up right before his eyes, going away on her own adventure where God knows what could happen to her? But, as challenging as it was, he suppressed that smothering impulse and let her become a little independent.
He also snapped out of his own trance when his brain reminded himself that she wasn't watching where she was going.
"I'm looking," he called back, "but don't look at me! Watch where you're going—!"
Her head spun around just in time for her to run face-first into their car. Her little bike buckled under her, and she stumbled around to catch herself from falling too.
He couldn't help it: he let out a loud snort and slowly clapped his hands, chuckles vibrating in his throat. "Oh, that's great," he laughed to himself before jogging back up to her. "You okay, sweetheart?"
She looked up at him with that same expression as he helped her get back on her bike. He noticed the missing baby tooth on her bottom row of teeth in her smile. "Did you see me, Daddy? I rode across the parking lot!"
"You sure did. Plus, you left a nice imprint of your face in my car, so I'd say that was an overall success. You wanna go again?"
She nodded like a bobble-head. "Yeah!"
"Alright, you weirdo." And they kept at it until she circled the entire lot without his help (and without running her face into the car again).
And how could he forget that time when she came back from a weekend trip to Boston when she was eighteen? It had a been a final hurrah with some of her high school friends before they all left to go their separate ways. Joseph had been more nervous about letting her go than Suzie had, but they both managed to convince him that it was a good idea. He volunteered to go pick her up at the gas station she and her friends said they would be when they came back. A few other parents hung around their cars too or chatted with one another, also waiting for their kids to show up. And when they did—God, Joseph would never forget that look on her face, or the scene in general.
When the old pickup truck came into sight and then came to a complete stop, Holly was the first one out with her bags hanging on her like Christmas tree ornaments. She didn't tell her friends goodbye or helped anyone else get out, she just made a beeline toward him, her poodle skirt flying back in the breeze. She looked at him like she was a potted plant that hung on the kitchen windowsill, watching the sun rise from beyond the distant clouds. How was that possible when her own smile, her own eyes were the very essences of what brilliance and happiness was made out of?
"Daddy!" she beamed as she hopped into his embrace and squeezed as tightly as she could. "Omigosh, I missed you so much!"
He felt like an old motor being fueled back to life, like a firework party was going off in his chest. That feeling, it was like greeting an old friend. He picked her up and spun her around. "Hey, Holly girl! I missed you too. Did you have fun?"
He set her down and smiled back at her sunshine face. "Yes! It was magnificent! I got gifts for you and Momma too. Oh, I have so much to show and tell you! It was—" She let out a laugh and hugged him again. "Thank you for letting me go. I had so much fun."
He chuckled and returned the embrace, feeling a little high off of whatever sugar rush she was on. "I'm glad you did. And I'm glad you're back, in one piece too."
"Yeah. Me too. Home is where the heart is, after all."
It had been fun watching her grow into her features too. Erina was right: she was a little Suzie, inside and out. The only physical trait she inherited from him was, naturally, the dull purple star of a birthmark behind her left shoulder and the dazzling hazel color of her eyes. Her hair grew darker shortly after she got out of high school, but up until that point, she shared the same sunshine blonde hair as her mother.
Her personality wasn't all too different from Suzie either: she was sweet as cherry pie, had a great sense of humor, and loved everyone and everything around her. She could be just as witty and daring as Joseph (especially during her teenage years) but she was mostly known for her kindness and everlasting smiles. She possessed the same passion for good music as her father, and she would recommend him songs or artists, well into her adulthood.
"Alright," he said during one of their phone calls when she was living in Japan, "who's better: the Stones or the Beatles?"
"Ugh, I can't do that." He could hear rummaging in the background as if she just flopped onto a squeaky couch or bed. "That's like asking you who you love more: me or Mom."
"That's easy: your mother."
Holly burst out laughing and Suzie, who had been across the room, glared at him and then hollered out, "Whatever he said about me isn't true, Holly dear! Don't trust anything he says."
"She's right," Joseph admitted, "I love you more, Holly."
Suzie then threw something at him—a pillow, a magazine, he forgot what—and they both laughed again.
"Okay, okay, I'm thinking." She hummed and he could see her face perfectly: her face pinched, lips puckered, eyebrows furrowed, maybe a finger tapping her chin just to prove that she was in fact thinking. "You know what? I'm going with the Beatles. They're just so catchy."
Joseph frowned into the receiver. "Wrong answer. You're no longer my kid."
She whined playfully. "Oh, come on. You asked the question and I just answered truthfully! And that George Harrison is just too cute, don't you think?"
"Mick Jagger would be disappointed in you."
"Oh, boo. My life's goal of impressing the Great Mick Jagger—it's all wasted now." Holly snickered. "I bet you Jotaro will be a big Rolling Stones fan. You two can go to their concerts together."
"Is that what you play around the house all the time, or must I come down there and replace all your CDs with good ones?"
"He's only getting the best of the best; he is my son after all." Her voice turned away from the phone as she called out in Japanese, "Jotaro, honey. Come say hi to Grandma and Grandpa!"
"Suzie," Joseph said, scratching the stubble around his jaw. "It's Jotaro."
Already sporting a huge smile, she got up from the couch and jogged over, squishing herself right next to him as he held the phone between them.
They heard some more fumbling around until Jotaro's tiny and quiet four-year-old voice peaked into the receiver: "Kon'ninchiwa."
"Oh, in English, please," Joseph heard Holly remind him. Jotaro tried again: "Hello."
"Hey there, Squirt," Joseph greeted the same time Suzie said, "Hello, sweetie! How are you?"
"Good."
"Are you ready for school this summer? Are you excited?"
"Yes."
That was Jotaro for you: answering with one word in a very small, monotone voice. Holly was doing a great job at teaching him English at home while he was preparing to learn more Japanese at school; he was keeping up pretty well. Joseph was fluent in the language too, but Suzie, who still had a thick Italian accent despite the many years of living in New York City with him, was having a hard time learning Japanese for the sake of Jotaro. Sometimes it was funny watching her struggle to find the right word for Jotaro to understand and then the four-year-old to respond perfectly in English.
They spoke of the usual little kid conversations (school, friends, Mom and Dad, promises of fun things to do when Joseph and Suzie visited later in the year). Jotaro continued with his one-word responses but, he had to admit, it was kind of cute when Holly had to prompt him to say "I love you" when the chat came to an end.
"We love you too, sweetie!" Suzie chimed for the both of them. "We'll see you in December, okay? Ciao, mio amore—!"
Joseph nudged her. "He already has a hard time listening to your accent in English. What makes you think he'd understand a third language?"
"I say that all the time, JoJo."
"He's four. Let him focus on the superior language, please."
Holly's laughter echoed from the phone at their bickering and then came Jotaro's quiet voice again: "C-Che-ow?"
Suzie perked up and hovered over the receiver. "Yes, yes. Ciao."
"Che-ow?"
She clapped her hands. "Yay! You got it! Do you know what that means, Jotaro?"
"No."
"It's Italian. In Italy, where I'm from, we use that as a way of saying 'hi' or 'goodbye.'"
"Oh."
"Alright, don't get your grandmother started," Joseph added under his breath and then in a clearer voice, "See ya, Squirt. Be nice and listen to your mother."
"Okay. Bye."
As Jotaro handed the phone back to Holly, Suzie smacked Joseph's arm hard. He flinched away from her. "Ow. What the—"
"'Let him focus on the superior language?'" Suzie mocked in an obnoxiously low voice, fists on her hips, eyebrows furrowed. "You know Caesar would've smacked you for saying something like that? He was a proud Italian too."
"Caesar would've smacked me for breathing in the same room as him. And there's a difference between proud and obsessive—"
"Jotaro is getting better at English every day," Holly piped up, probably not realizing that he and Suzie were quarreling. "He's so smart and observant and he pays attention to all the details. He's very mature for someone his age, which is why I think he's having trouble finding friends." She sighed sadly. "He's such a good little boy. I'm afraid he's going to be lonely, or kids are going to make fun of him."
"Oh, honey," Suzie lulled into the phone. "I think Jotaro is just shy. He's very quiet and keeps to himself, sure, but the good thing about children is that they will be friends with just about anyone. I'm positive someone in his class will love to be his friend."
"He'll be fine, Holly," Joseph added. "What you're feeling is perfectly normal for a parent. He'll figure it out. Like you said, he's a smart boy."
"Yeah…as much as I love him and want to keep him to myself, I think it's better if he had friends of his own. Maybe another little boy would be better? He's around women a lot: me, my friends, Mom whenever she's here. I don't know if that's gonna alter his social skills or not."
Joseph nodded, glancing at Suzie. "I know what that's like. I was a man once, but then I joined this vagina tribe and it's all about feelings in the vagina tribe."
Holly once more burst into laughter and Suzie rolled her eyes, shaking your head, muttering something in Italian under her breath. Joseph grinned and looked back at the phone. "Jotaro will be fine. Both of you will be. I have full faith in that."
He could practically see her smile, bright as stars. "Thanks, Daddy. Can't wait to see you soon."
There it was, that feeling of electricity flowing through his veins, pumping like the gears on a complicated machine. Daddy. Rivers of lovely memories washed over his mind of his little girl. Look at me, Daddy! See you soon, Daddy! Pick me up, Daddy! I need you, Daddy. It didn't matter how old she got or how far away she moved—she would always be his little girl. Hamon and Stands couldn't compare to her; he would leave it all at the drop of a hat if it so much as made her smile.
"No problem, sweetheart. I'll always be here for you. Always."
