[Jonathan's voice, admittedly, never strayed too far from Dio's ears even after he ran. He could hear his name being called as clear as day, and if he hadn't gotten a head start, he surely would've been outpaced in no time. It's as Dio is beginning to pick himself up off the ground that he hears the calls more clearly. Tired calls, frustrated calls; they aren't angry, no, surely not, and yet it's so so easy to hear them as such. They're upon him in an instant.
It's like he's on the floor by his father's bed all over again, shattered glass at his side as he's approached. Something about the medicine he bought, should've bought more beer, yelling, it's too loud, the hand comes down and he throws his own arm up to block the strike, pulling his face away because a hit from this monster of a man will surely break bones--
It's quiet.
The wind is blowing. The trees are rustling. The crows are cawing. It's quiet.
He is cold. He's being spoken to. He lifts his head toward the sound.
Jonathan Joestar has extended a hand to him. 'Help.'
cw implied child abuse
It's like he's on the floor by his father's bed all over again, shattered glass at his side as he's approached. Something about the medicine he bought, should've bought more beer, yelling, it's too loud, the hand comes down and he throws his own arm up to block the strike, pulling his face away because a hit from this monster of a man will surely break bones--
It's quiet.
The wind is blowing. The trees are rustling. The crows are cawing. It's quiet.
He is cold. He's being spoken to. He lifts his head toward the sound.
Jonathan Joestar has extended a hand to him. 'Help.'
I am trying to Help.]