The Cry Of A Mockingbird •Dio Brando X Reader•

•Eleven•

A week. 

Seven days. 

Sevens days since Dio had seen you last after handing over the plans to his home. You had told him that you would find him when you were ready. You had mentioned other business that was more of a priority, and when Dio had tried to object, you shot him down instantly.

“You told me I had a year, Brando. Don’t get your panties in a twist so soon. I intend to use that year in time, so calm yourself or you’ll find a different person to help you.”

He scoffed and leaned back in his chair, glaring at the papers sitting on his desk. What in the world could you have been doing all this time? He remembers, from three years ago, when he’d watch you and Jonathan in the field each day. He remembers seeing you almost every day for a month. Then one day, you disappeared. Three days, he believes you were gone, then you showed up in the dead of night and snuck Jonathan out of the house. He’d been standing in his window when you rode off into the night, glaring at the both of you as your figures faded. You’d been injured then. Perhaps the same thing had happened? You had said that you were always in trouble, always running from one thing or another, and weaseling your way out of your problems. 

Dio tapped his fountain pen on the desk and tilted his head up to the ceiling, narrowing his eyes slightly. Why had you been running through his mind? Each day, he’d have at least one thought of you. Where were you? What were you doing? Were you hurt? He honestly didn’t care for your wellbeing, but he needed you. You were the only person that could make his plan go smoothly. He knew as soon as the mask was in his possession, things would get rocky. He didn’t care though. His only thought was of the power and the wealth he’d have once these pesky Joestar’s were out of the way and six feet under the ground. Once that was done, he’d kill you and keep the fortune to himself. He grinned at the thought. 

Suddenly, he jumped at something hitting his window. He snapped his head towards the glass, eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. He watched something tap against the window before bouncing off and falling back down. It registered in his mind and he stood up, careful not to scrape his chair against the floor and wake anyone else up. He pushed his window open and looked down. A black mass was below him, tossing a pebble in their hand. A head tilted up, and a pair of glowing e/c stared up at him. 

“You just gonna stand there?” Your familiar voice seemed to wrap around him, making the tension in his shoulders disappear and the tightness in his chest to loosen. Your voice sounded...different to him. However, the thoughts were lost when you held up something in your hand. 

The stone mask. 

“Or are you gonna come down here?” Your words seemed to snap him from his daze. Already having his shoes on, Dio slipped from his window, inching his way down the roof, and then grabbed the gutter pipe that ran along the side of the house and finished coming down, landing on the ground in front of you with a soft thud. 

“When the hell did you do it? I haven’t heard from you in a week!” He hissed quietly, red eyes piercing into yours. 

“That was the point,” You said, waving the mask side to side. Dio noticed some papers folded up behind it. “If I would have told you when I was doing it, you would have anticipated my arrival, and that would have been bad. Things wouldn’t have gone so smoothly.”

Dio looked at you in shock. You had done it. You actually did it. And you did it without him even knowing! He looked at the mask in your hand, then noticed the dots of red on your skin, poking out from under your sleeve. His eyes traveled up to your face where he could see the stain of blood under your nose. Have you been bleeding recently? And what about the bandages on your fingers?

Your lips turned into a frown as you noticed Dio’s attention straying from the mask and towards you. “Oi, Brando,” You snapped, gaining his attention. “I got the mask for you. Pay up.”

“Not quite yet,” He said, slipping a hand into his pocket. “Since you’ve proven yourself so reliable, I have a few more requests.”

Your lips curled back in a snarl. “Bastard. I knew you had something else planned.”

Dio grinned. “Looks like we’re becoming more familiar with each other than, aren’t we?”

“You are not familiar with me,” You hissed, glaring at him beneath your hood. “You know nothing about me, and you never will. I am not your buddy, Brando, nor am I going to ever be.”

“Looks like you’ll just have to be willing to make new friends,” Dio said leaning against the wall. 

“I don’t make new friends,” You said, frowning. 

Dio nodded at you. “What happened to your face?” Your hands rose to your busted lip and nose. “And your hands?” He raised his eyebrows at the slashes and cuts on your fingers. You dropped them at your sides, hiding them behind you. 

“It’s none of your business,” You muttered, dropping your gaze away from his eyes. Dio pushed off the wall and walked towards you. You took a step back as Dio reached for your hand. You glared harshly at him and held the mask out. Dio took it but grabbed your wrist at the same time. The mask dropped to the ground as he yanked you forward, raising your hand so he could see it better in the light from the torches above you. His hand curled around your waist and he held you close to his chest. 

Your eyes widened and your breath hitched in your throat. Your body went rigid as Dio examined your hand carefully. The smell of cinnamon rose in his nose, and he was content with the warm feeling that it brought with it. Dio noticed the shake in your hand, and glanced down at you, and gasped quietly. 

Your hood had fallen during the slight struggle, revealing your face to him completely. Your wide e/c eyes stared up at him, slightly chapped lips parted in shock. A scar ran across the right side of your lip, dragging from just above your chin to just under your nose. You had a cut across the bridge of your nose that was open with blood dribbling down. Dio glanced at the whip marks on your hands. 

“A thief’s punishment,” Dio whispered, looking back down at you. You swallowed hard and weakly tried to remove your hand. Dio’s grip didn’t budge. “Where did you get caught?”

“Why do you care?” You asked quietly. Your fingers twitched as Dio swiped his thumb across the underside of a cut on your palm. Dio was quiet for a moment. 

“I understand what it’s like. I lived there too you know,” He muttered, finally releasing your hand. You shoved him back and spun around, fumbling to pull your hood back up. 

“N-no,” You said quietly. “No, you don’t understand. You escaped when you were twelve.”

“I’ll be in Hell for the rest of my life.”