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Johnny thought it would all end after the first time. That it was just a strange infatuation, or a side-effect of the relic and spending so much time in eachother's minds, or maybe his body was malfunctioning after it's been on ice for too long. Either way, he's pissed. He's pissed, mostly at himself, because he's never been like this, he's never been into men. And he's also pissed at what he's doing to V.
Pissed at the way V's thighs feel so deliciously warm and soft around his hips, the merc's skin almost flawless and so beautiful, his muscles trembling under Johnny's hands. Pissed at his arm around V's waist, at the way he's hugging the other man close, so close he's sure V's skin's gonna turn fucking black and blue. Pissed, so fucking pissed at the way he's gripping V's hair, holding V's head in the crook of his neck as if he could hide him from the world, protect him from the disgusting impurity of Night City. At the awfully possessive words he's whispering to the merc, at the lies, the promises.
It's all gone by morning, each and every time, and Johnny hates himself for pushing V into this position. But for fuck's sake, V's a grown ass man. He should have known better. And it's not like Johnny 's promised anything. Liar.
He's hurting V. He knows that, because he can see it in V's eyes, in the way they always have a sad glint to them, the way his smile's always so bittersweet. The way it feels like V always seems to be stopping himself from touching Johnny, from being close to him, despite the fact that they are glued together 24/7. They are not a couple. They are not in a relationship. Liar.
Kerry had screamed at him for it, thrown an empty bottle at Johnny's head, and fuck him, his aim is good, even when he's drunk. He'd screamed at Johnny for ruining it all, for making V end their relationship for Johnny, screamed at him for taking something from Kerry again - fuck you Kerry, you were just fucking around with him, you've never loved the poor kid - but Johnny's never told V to ditch Kerry. Liar. Not outright, at least. But Kerry's not good enough for V and Johnny was right about him, even if V would never truly believe him. He wasn't the one waiting for V to get back from fucking outer space. The impatient bastard had only left V a video message.
He's already drunk when he gets to the Afterlife. His head is already pounding when Rouge starts to bombard him in her usual, brutally honest way. Because Rouge is not dumb, but she's got no right to call Johnny a disgusting piece of shit. Liar. She's got no right to tell him that she's never seen him act so cruel to an input, and she's witnessed a lot of shit from him. Rouge's got no right to be so empathetic towards V and definitely no right to watch him, his V, so closely that even she'd notice that the merc is hurting, and that he's working himself to the bone so that he doesn't have to think.
Del finds his way to V's - their - Glenn apartment because Johnny's not sure that he wouldn't end up sleeping on the streets or dead in a landfill if he'd tried to get there - home - by himself. Nibbles greets him by the door, his troubled, loud meow alerting V - of course the merc's home, why the fuck would he be anywhere else just the one night Johnny needs to be alone with his thoughts - and V's already by his side, trying to help Johnny through the door.
He doesn't mean to scream. Liar. At least not the words he's hurling at V, not the ugly lies that spill from his mouth. He's pushing V away, telling him to find an actual fag to be with because he's tired of fucking his ass liar, and he's even more tired of the way V thinks he's some kind of a lover of his dirty fucking liar. Every fibre of Johnny's body feels like a fuse has been lit and there's no way of stopping his anger, no way of stopping him from hurting V, because he wants to liar he needs to hurt V, because he can't deal with actual emotions that feel too raw and real.
It doesn't hurt when V tells him, voice cold, that he's gonna make sure to find someone who'd fuck him good and cherish him after, that Johnny doesn't have to worry about that. Liar. He doesn't know why his chest feels like someone's sat on it and then forced a dagger through his ribs when V stops talking and walks over to him, helping him to the couch. Liar. Nor does he know why the feeling won't ease when V walks up the stairs and dissapears into the shower.
It's way past noon when he wakes up with a headache larger than this fucked up city itself. He's alone in the apartment, safe for V's - their - little furless alien, and of course when Johnny needs his memories to be wiped away by the fog of all the alcohol he'd consumed last night they all come back, clearer than ever. Rouge had warned him that this won't end well because Johnny can't ever change, but he didn't believe her. Liar.
So he waits. He waits, because things will surely get back to normal, because they weren't a couple, because his outburst was not a break-up, how could it have been. Liar.
Except things wouldn't go back to normal and he doesn't know why. Liar. He barely ever sees V - the merc wouldn't tell Johnny about his gigs anymore, let alone take him along. V would get home, only sparing a hello or a hi to Johnny and collapse in his bed, so tired that by the time Johnny would gather his courage and walk up the stairs the merc would already be out cold. He sees V at the Afterlife, at the bar, sits with him at Rouge's - V's - booth but with Rouge between them, with V keeping his distance, his laughter sounding sarcastic and fake, his anger poorly hidden under his cool demanor. He hates it. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts so fucking bad that Johnny wants to scream, to scream at V for acting like a victim. Liar.
He doesn't know why it hurts as bad as it was watching Alt get taken away. Liar. Because every single time V walks away, it hurts just as bad.
But not as bad as seeing V, at the Afterlife, at his booth again, but this time Rouge's not there. She's not there, but a fucking Voodoo-boy is, a gigantic bastard with a perfect smile, sitting next to V and he's close, too fucking close to V for Johnny's liking. And the fucker is touchy, dangerously touchy, his hand on V's thigh groping the merc, his other hand caressing V's cheek.
It's what Johnny wanted, isn't it? Liar. He'd told V to find someone else, he wanted V to. Liar. He doesn't want to watch but his eyes are glued to V, equally mesmerised by and angry at the flirtatious look on the merc's face.
But then V recoils from the guy's touch. It's barely there and the guy doesn't notice, but Johnny does, because he knows V like nobody else ever has or will and that's enough for Johnny to move, to greet V loudly and make his presence known, to try and push past the bodyguard but to no avail. The bodyguard shakes his head with an expression of steel and Johnny doesn't want to cause a scene. Liar. So he walks over to the bar, orders a drink and waits.
The alcohol dulls the pain of watching V walk away with the Voodoo-boy, the guy's hand on the small of V's back, his body language screaming at Johnny to intervene - but he doesn't. After all, it's exactly what Johnny's told him to do. He does promise himself to put a bullet between the guy's eyes, because accidents do happen. Then he sends a text to V, with one single word - Whore. - and he doesn't turn down the girl who seems to have appeared out of nowhere. They end up at the Afterlife's washroom and if his dick refuses to work, the toilet's disgusting smell's to blame. Liar.
He doesn't expect to find V at home liar, nor does he wait for the merc till sunrise liar, liar, collapsed on the kitchen floor, with fuck knows how many empty tequila bottles around him. He doesn't hurl a bottle at the wall liar, nor the second liar, or the third liar. He does refuse to drunk-call V on the holo or leave a video message, begging him for forgivness, to come home - Please, V. - to come back to him.
Johnny can't really remember the days, not with how drunk he's been for the past week - and he drinks, as if he'd be able to drink his sorrow away, but he doesn't do any drugs - V would gut him if he got word of it. And he's a miserable drunk now, nowhere near his old self, no chicks, no parties, no blackouts, his eyes endlessly searching the Afterlife for a merc who'd, apparently stolen his heart. So Johnny drinks, until his stomach puts an end to it.
It's 3:42 am when Johnny wakes up to his holo ringing, his heart hammering in his chest. It's that ripperdoc, Viktor's face that appears on his holo and his gravelly, dangerously low and far too calm voice that makes Johnny sit on the edge of his - V's - bed, throwing his clotes on franctially. Even if Viktor asks him what the fuck he's done to his boy. Even if Viktor tells him that he doesn't really care and that Johnny's a fucking parasite whom once ate V's life and soul away and Viktor'd be damned if he let Johnny do it again. Even if Viktor tells him that he's not surprised after all, because soulkiller did do it's job flawlessly, did what it was designed to do and killed Johnny's soul. That is, if he ever had one to begin with.
It's a fucking joke that a fucking Delamain fills him in - he's glad that he didn't trust himself with not totalling his beloved Porsche. Del fills him in on how he - or one of his lunatic AI kids - have found V in Pacifica, barely alive and beaten - or abused, who the fuck knows which - and it makes Johnny see red and shout at the AI, demanding more details, but Del doesn't say anything more. Only that he's taken care of V's attacker. Fucking hell, that V managed to make an AI, as fucking horrifying as Del can be, his friend.
It's unfair how Johnny simply pushes Misty out of the way when she tries to reason with him, when she tries to keep him out, to keep him from seeing his V. And fuck if it isn't unfair when Viktor steps in and punches him in the gut, with the meanest fucking monstrosity of a right hook Johnny ever had the pleasure of walking into. Liar. His eyes feel like they are glitching, but they are organic for fuck's sake, there are spots everywhere and he growls, and wants to fight back but as soon as he tries to straighten his back, another blow collides with his ribcage.
There's Alt in front of his eyes for a second, Alt being dragged away, taken away from him - but then Alt becomes V, and all his mind can see is what Del described - except his mind's fucking good at imagining things, and he can see V in the back of a Delamain cab, beaten, bruised and abused, alone and helpless, because Johnny's fucking done the equivalent of throwing him out. He broke up with V, and even if he doesn't want to admit it, it fucking felt like that.
He doesn't see V but he can hear his voice, his breathing ragged and rasping, asking Vic to stop, stop hurting Johnny, it's not his fault, he didn't know, he wasn't there. He wasn't there. He wasn't there, he wasn't fucking there for V, to back him up, to find him, to send whoever's put their paws on the merc to hell. So Johnny collects himself faster than his body would have liked, making him cough and heave.
When Johnny's finally able to take a good look at his V, he's paralized by the sight. He's never seen V like this before, not after any of his gigs, not even when the relic's been destroying his body. It's a different kind of pain, wounds and bruises and cuts and Johnny doesn't really know if it wasn't done by scavangers. The merc's breathing is still ragged, his eyes shut thight, but V doesn't collapse. His V's got more dignity than to allow himself to be the damsel in distress, and when the merc sways, he's pushing both him and Vik out of the way when they both try to step closer and offer some help.
When V settles back onto the chair and his breathing's calmed down - all of their breathing, really - Viktors asks him to leave, calmly this time. He can't leave V though, not now, he can't go home when V, when he just, he just wants V to - Please come back to me, V. Please, V. Come back home. - Johnny doesn't plead and his voice doesn't break. Liar. He just wants to be able to be there when V needs him, to be able to protect him when the merc slips, when he needs backup.
When V confronts Johnny about throwing him away he doesn't lie. Nor does he lie when V asks him if he ever meant anything to him. He can't lie anymore, not when V's become his entire world after everything that's happened.
The knot in Johnny's stomach loosens when V's leaning into his touch instead of recoiling, silently basking in the feeling of Johnny's palm against his bruised cheek with his eyes closed. And Johnny, he does have his entire world in his palm now. He just needs to stop being a stupid fucking liar and learn how to apologise, even if the apology is interrupted by small kisses and soft pecks, holding far too many prescious feelings that Johnny doesn't feel like he deserves.
Before they leave the ripperdoc's clinic, Viktor does tell him so. Tells him that he doesn't deserve V and that next time he's not going to stop, even if V begged him to. And even if Viktor doesn't believe Johnny now, he makes a promise that there won't be a next time.