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It is weird; how Johnny had randomly called Gyro. Johnny was his online friend from Kentucky, they had met on some random group chat on Instagram. HP had added Gyro there in hopes that he could at least become friends with one of the people there, and that is exactly what he did. Well, it took a while to break Johnny's facade, but he did it eventually and they haven’t missed a day of speaking to each other.
But, they have never called each other—HP and the other people in the group chat would call and the two would join, but Johnny only spoke once or twice, his accent was a little funny, though a little muffled, Gyro couldn’t help but chuckle every time Johnny said one or two words during those calls—, so it genuinely freaked Gyro out when he saw the call.
At first, he didn’t want to pick it up; later when Johnny asked him why he didn’t answer his call, he would just say he was at work, but then again, Johnny isn’t a fucking dumbass, he is able to tell when the older man is lying. With a heavy heart, Gyro pressed the answer option, and the call connected, silence following after.
Gyro prayed that Johnny would be the first to say something, but, not to his surprise, nothing. Scratching the back of his neck, he finally spoke, hoping that his voice wouldn’t come out hoarse. “Hey,” He uttered, immediately punching himself mentally. Why did you say that? Could you get ANY more dry, maledetto idiota?
“Hey, Gy.” Johnny replied back, almost hesitant. Oh God… The nickname. Gyro’s never been given a nickname, and honestly the nickname was kind of stupid, but the way it was said made the name go straight down…down to his groin. “How’re you doin’? Never thought of callin’ me before, huh?” Johnny continued, his words slurred as he chuckled a little after.
“I’m good, you already know that, though. And, sorry, I’m not even used to calling HP.” Gyro shrugged, a smile growing on his face. Even though Johnny sounded like a cowboy stoner, his voice was still so cute.
The other line fell silent for a second, before Johnny let out a huff of air, “That’s because you’re roommates with her,” he jested, “Anyway, your voice is so hot, I don’t understand why you’ve never spoken during any of our group calls.”
Gyro finally understood what he was playing by, two can play at that game , “Stop it, your compliment’s going straight to my dick,” He wasn’t lying, “But, I have spoken in the calls…okay not spoken, but I’ve breathed with my mic on.” he continued, pretending like he didn’t just say the most lewd thing he’d never thought he would say.
Gyro could almost hear Johnny’s jaw drop from his first sentence. It took a full minute for Johnny to heal from those words, the sound of something swishing—almost as if he was drinking something like water in a glass—in a bottle being heard before he spoke again, “You’re a dirty, dirty man, huh? Sayin’ that shit without even a second thought?”
“Why don’t you come to Italy and I’ll show you just how dirty I can be?” Gyro teased, a shit eating grin spread across his face, leaning back on his chair as he waited for Johnny’s next response.
Soon after, the call cut, leaving Gyro there, the remnants of his shattered ego still on his face. Gyro began to think the worst, what if his dad heard their conversation? What if he was walking on the street and got hit by a car because of his careless comments? It’s honestly the dumbest shit he’s ever thought. How would the latter be so careless to get himself hit by a car? It can’t be real.
With a tired sigh, Gyro continued what he was doing before Johnny had called him, but he wasn’t even focusing on that, he couldn’t. He tried to imagine how such a situation would take place, was he running on the street then he randomly got called by someone he knows then he got hit by a car turning the corner? No, Gyro would’ve heard the person calling him. Did his dad actually come home and hear what he said, if he did…then he might not get Johnny back for a while. Then again, he couldn’t think of the worst case scenarios when he’s never seen Johnny’s face, but Johnny’s seen at least one picture of the latter. Is he a ginger? Is he just a normal white guy with black hair and freckles, because he mentioned he has freckles? What if he isn’t even white? What if he’s black? He has an African-American sounding accent, maybe he is. But if he was, I’m sure he’d be spilling the n-word out of his mouth each time he spoke… What if he’s a 30 year old ginger cracker who just wants to have a good time with me? What if…
The ‘what if’s’ went on and on and on… so long that he didn’t even realise that Johnny had sent him a voice message. The moment Gyro realised, he tapped on the message, pressing play and waiting for the words to be spoken.
“Hey, Gy. Sorry for cuttin’ the call so suddenly. I…somethin’ happened that made me jump, and my thumb accidentally cut the call. No hard feelings, yeah?” And that was it. ‘ Hey, Gy ’. That fucking nickname was gnawing at Gyro’s brain, making him bite his lip, so hard he could feel the metallic taste of blood pooling in his mouth.
He’s never gotten a voice message from Johnny, this was a first, and he was already feeling the small wet spot of…y’know growing in his underwear. He decided to send a voice message back.
“No hard feelings, zucchero filato,” He said, his tone oh-so gentle, “Y’know, I was thinking the worst happened,” He said before giggling a little, “I thought you got hit by a car while walking on the street because you were super shocked by what I said.”
Johnny sent one back, almost in the same breath of Gyro sending it. The message started with Johnny laughing uncontrollably, the sound of him slapping something echoing together with the laugh, “You’re so cute, ‘zukero filato’?” he said before breaking for a snort of laughter, “I love ya’, call me that more often; dunno what it means though. And also, Am paraplegic, y’know what that means right? Yeah.”
It hurt Gyro on the inside; hearing Johnny butcher his language so heavy, then again, Johnny’s paraplegic? Gyro would’ve never guessed that such a playful guy couldn’t move let alone feel below his waist. No, Johnny could definitely feel something below his waist, it would be a crazy shock if he couldn’t. Swiping right on the voice message, he decided to type a reply instead, it was way too much to say it via voice.
Paraplegic?<
Dam, can u feel below ur waist tho?<
Johnny, as if he was waiting, saw the messages immediately, replying back with two other voice messages, “Christ, you’re not dirty, you’re filthy . If you’d asked me on vm then I would ‘ave had to sedate you.” The voice message ended with a quiet chuckle from him, the next one beginning with what sounded like a gasp, “What if I can feel below my waist, what’re you gonna do?”
Gyro replayed the voice message, he’d never realised how relaxing Johnny’s voice was. The way he said ‘Christ’, the way he called the latter a dirty, filthy man. The way he unnecessarily shortened words that didn’t need to be abbreviated any further.
He replayed it once again, and again, and again until those words stuck to the corners of his brain. ‘What’re you gonna do?’ Oh the things he would do.
Oh just guess<
Gyro finally replied back. While waiting, he couldn't help but hold his breath, eager for what Johnny would send next. Soon, everything went silent, no reply from Johnny, plus the group chat had gone completely silent. Unable to contain his nerves, Gyro found himself nervously biting his lip, the taste of blood mingling with his apprehension. Soon, Johnny finally went offline. The vibrant colours of his profile faded into dull monotony, and the comforting green dot indicating his activity disappeared without a trace.
A chill ran down Gyro's spine as he realised the gravity of the situation. This abrupt leave was far from normal for Johnny. Johnny, known for his nocturnal online presence, rarely went offline without warning. The unsettling silence that now enveloped the chat left Gyro grappling with a multitude of questions.
With a resigned sigh, Gyro closed the Instagram app and resolved to occupy himself with something more productive. Perhaps it was for the best; Johnny might have been irritated by Gyro's vague response, possibly even resorting to calling him an unpleasant name for making him wait so long.
Setting his phone aside, Gyro rose from his desk chair and began to pace around the room. Just as he reached the door, a familiar 'ping' cut through the silence, causing him to freeze in his tracks. Johnny had finally replied.
With a quickened pulse, Gyro hurried back to his desk, snatching up his phone and unlocking it with eager anticipation. Relief flooded over him as he saw that the message was indeed from Johnny, the very person he had been anxiously awaiting.
Opening the message, Gyros eyebrows raised in confusion. A photo, a view-once photo at that. Why would he send a view-once photo…unless.
Gyro wasted no time opening that photo, the image taking some seconds to load before a…questionable picture came to view. It wasn’t anything that Gyro would’ve expected—at all. It was a photo of Johnny holding a bottle of beer, in the background was a blurry figure of what seemed to be his legs, it seemed like the beer had spilled all over him. His light blue sweatpants were soaked, and so was—what Gyro assumed to be,—his shirt, a little bit of his stomach peeking out. Taking the screenshot of the photo before it could be forever unrecovered, he opened it in his gallery, analysing the photo. Johnny’s legs were plump, and he could tell by how his shirt hugged his stomach that his stomach was pretty tubby too. So he’s a little chubby, how cute, Gyro thought, a wide grin spreading across his face.
After a whole 5 minutes of analysing the photo, Johnny sent him messages, not voice messages—shockingly.
>dude do you leave everybody on read
>answer my text 🙄🙄
Gyro’s eyes widened, immediately looking back at the image, just now noticing the caption. ‘Spilt beer on myself, dk how I’m gonna clean this shit up. Damn legs.’ Oh.
‘Sorry, I was looking at your surroundings,’ Gyro originally began to type, then he realised how creepy that sounded. ‘Sorry, I was looking at your legs,’ Even worse. God. ‘Sorry, you have really nice legs,’ A bit better, but still pretty weird. ‘I like your legs,’ Gyro stared at that message, deep in thought. It had the perfect amount of banter, plus it was pretty truthful, and there was a 50% chance that Johnny sent him a better picture of his soaked legs… he would like that, maybe love it.
I like your legs<
He finally sent, and waited. Johnny took a second to see it, but when he finally did he didn’t answer. As if he were trying to play tit for tat. Then he began to type. He typed for a minute before going stagnant once more. Again, he began to type, stopped, then another view-once picture was sent. Gyro took in a deep breath, hesitantly tapping on the image.
This time, it was a picture of just his legs, except they were bare. The brown residue of the beer blanketed his pale skin. Now that he got a better look at them, they were plumper, unclothed, and Gyro could almost see his grown bulge in his boxers—baby blue. ‘I bet you wanna bury your face in them, huh?’ the caption teased. Gyro went back to chewing on his lip, his free hand going down to clench his aching erection under his pants, hoping it would go away somehow.
As Gyro absorbed the situation, Johnny sent another message:
>do u have beer or anything alcoholic in ur house rn?
Gyro wished he could respond with an enthusiastic "Yes!" but he wasn't much of a drinker. The idea of getting wasted didn't appeal to him, knowing the painful aftermath that always followed. However, he remembered the bottle of vodka left over from Caesar's visit the other night. He had planned to return it, but now it seemed it would serve a different purpose.
Yup<
>great
Johnny replied, before immediately calling Gyro, startling him. Gyro didn't even have the bottle with him. With a sigh, he answered the call, deciding to fetch the vodka while talking.
"Hello?" Johnny's voice came through, giddy and full of excitement.
"Yellow," Gyro chuckled, standing up from his desk and heading out of his room to get the vodka.
Johnny, clearly drunk, giggled, his Kentucky accent adding a charming lilt to his laugh. "Where're you goin’? You got a nice house."
Gyro raised an eyebrow, glancing at his phone as he opened the pantry door with his free hand. It was then he noticed that Johnny had video-called him. With a sigh of resignation, Gyro took in his own dishevelled appearance but couldn't help but smile at seeing Johnny's face. Johnny's pale skin contrasted with his dark freckles, his hair a dusty blond, eyes a shiny light blue, and lips pink and inviting. He looked like the perfect embodiment of a country boy—albeit a very drunk one.
~~~
STILL UNFINISHED RAHHH