The Cry Of A Mockingbird •Dio Brando X Reader•

•Four•

It had been three days since he heard from you last. You hadn’t sent a message, hadn’t shown up, nor had you had any type of communication with Jonathan Joestar. It worried him. He knew the slums were a highly dangerous place, hence why you told him to stay away from it, and he knew that you were always in some kind of trouble. He first thought he should go after you, pass through the slums and try to find you, but the thought was quickly washed away by the threat you sent at him before. 

He was eager to get going. He wanted to further his training with you. His eye ached from the hit he’d taken from that bastard boy across the hall in the scuffle they got in earlier this evening. He placed the bag of ice back down on the table in his room and cast his eyes towards the window. Night had washed over England, leaving the only light from the torches outside and the lantern beside him. He craved the adventure and the adrenaline from sparring with you. He enjoyed your company as you cracked jokes or taunted him, exciting him with the encouraging words that one day he’d beat his brother. 

His back suddenly straightened out when he heard the soft thuds of horse hooves on the ground below his window. Then, he heard a tap as a rock bounced from the window and landed back on the ground. Jonathan snapped from his sudden daze and threw the window open, and stuck his head out, only to be hit in the forehead with the pebble. He yelped with pain and rubbed the spot where he’d been struck. 

“Sorry!” A familiar voice whisper-shouted. Jonathan immediately looked down at the person perched on the horse. 

“Vex-!”

“Lower your voice, you dimwit!” You shouted back in a hushed voice. “Do you really want your family to know you run around with a rat? Hurry and get down here! You’ve got three days’ worth of training to do before dawn!”

Jonathan scurried about his room, quickly shedding his pajamas and threw a random shirt and pants he found on, then quietly rushed downstairs, careful not to wake the dogs sleeping by the fireplace, kicked his shoes on, and slipped out. You pulled the reins on the chocolate horse to keep it steady as Jonathan climbed on behind you. His heart slammed against his chest with the exhilaration of being caught. You snapped the reins, forcing the horse into motion. Jonathan turned to look as his home disappeared behind him. 

“Never snuck out before, have you?” You asked, laughing slightly. 

“No!” Jonathan exclaimed. “Do you even know how late in the night it is?”

“Oh quit your bellyachin’!” You said. “It’s only a quarter past midnight!”

“That’s pretty late you know! Do you not even sleep at all?” He asked quizzically. 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, and I’m not dying anytime soon!” You called over the deafening sound of the horse’s hooves pounding against the ground. Once you deemed you were far enough, you slowed the pace of the horse until it stopped. Jonathan slid off first, then held his hand out to you. You looked at it, before looking back at him. Hesitantly, you placed your hand on his and jumped from the horse. 

“I was worried you know. I didn’t think you’d ever come back,” Jonathan said as you positioned a lantern so it hung from a low tree branch, and illuminated the small area around you. 

“Well don’t,” You stated, leading the horse to the tree as you tied the reins to the branch. 

“What? Worry, or think you won’t ever come back?” Jonathan asked, tilting his head. 

“Both,” You replied. “If I told you something, then I’ll do it. I just can’t promise when, or how. And it’s better not to ask questions either.” You unbuttoned your cloak and tossed it over the branch. Jonathan gasped in shock. 

Bandages spread from the top of your shoulder and the base of your neck, down to your wrist. Bruises lined the left side of your jaw, and your knuckles were bruised and swollen. Blood dotted through part of the bandages on both of your arms and the corset top he had previously seen you in was gone, replaced by a white sleeveless shirt. 

“Vex, what happened to you?” Jonathan asked worriedly. You sighed heavily. 

“I just said it’s better to not ask questions, didn’t I? I did say that,” You said. 

“We-well..y-yes, but-”

“No,” You said, waving a dismissive hand over your shoulder. “It’s none of your concern. The only thing you should be worried about is how much practice you need.”

Jonathan seemed extremely hesitant. You could easily tell that he wanted to argue, but the look on your face sent him otherwise. He sighed heavily through his nose. 

“Alright,” He muttered. 

“Good, now, how much do you weigh?” You asked, beginning to walk a circle around him. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” He said. “70 kilograms maybe? Why do you ask?”

“And how much does this brother of yours weigh?” You asked. 

“Around 65, why are you asking this?” He repeated. 

“Because, Joestar, you’re taller, stronger, and heavier than your brother,” You hummed.

“Then how come he beats me all the time?” He mumbled. 

“You aren’t balancing your weight correctly,” You replied, dropping into a defensive stance. Jonathan followed your actions. 

“How do I do that?” He asked. 

“Watch,”

A startled gasp passed over Jonathan’s lips as he stumbled back from the force of your hit. The wind was knocked from his chest, and he dropped his pose out of pure shock. You dropped lower and swiped his feet from under him, sending him to the ground. Your foot landed on the middle of his chest as you leaned forward, resting your arm on your knee. A grin spread across your face as you raised your eyebrows. 

“I’m barely 45 kilograms,” You stated. “I’m half your weight, and you overpower me in strength. But I easily took you down. Do you know why that is, Joestar?”

Jonathan groaned under you. 

“You’ve got a bighead first of all,” You stated. “You think that taking your brother down will be so easy because you're angry at him. I hate to be the one who breaks it to you, meater, but he’s outsmarting you. You’re thinking brawns over the brain. You’ve got to use your head. I know you aren’t a ninny, so stop acting like one.” You extended your hand to him as you removed your foot. Jonathan looked at your hand.

“I don’t want to hurt your hand. It looks broken,” He said, flashing his eyes to you. “I have pain medication at home. I could give it to you,”

“Take it or stand up on your own,” You said. Jonathan stood up. 

“Vex, it’s not that hard to see you’re in pain. You’re helping me out, so let me help you. I can get you the proper treatment for your wounds,” He said. You opened your mouth to protest when he cut you off. “And I’ll make sure your face stays hidden. Your injuries look horribly painful. I can only imagine what happened, and I can only imagine the pain you’re in. I’ll have you sit in the basement, and I'll have the doctor come by to treat you.”

You stared at him in shock. Doctors were expensive, especially with treating wounds such as yours. You placed a hand on your shoulder where the 7-inch deep wound had been poorly closed and wrapped hurriedly. You knew there was the risk of infection, especially with how much you moved around through the slums. You briefly glanced at Jonathan, seeing only worry and determination in his eyes. You knew he wouldn’t stop until you caved in, and allowed him to get you better treatment than the half-assed one you had. You looked down at your feet. 

“A-alright,”