[Vince is right, he’s not alone anymore. That fleeting touch is enough to drag Johnny out of his hateful thoughts. He holds hatred in his heart for what those monsters did to him. He was only a child back then who could barely count past ten. How was he supposed to survive such blatant abuse? These monsters used to beat him, spit on him, break his bones, and worse. It was a miracle that Johnny survived long enough to be taken by the nomads but even then, his childhood was still chaotic.
However, he’s no longer alone anymore. He has Vincent by his side and that is all that matters at this point. Johnny unclenched his fists as he slowly turned towards V, his eyes wet with unshed tears. Johnny Silverhand doesn’t cry. No, but he feels the weight of his past nonetheless. He reaches for Vincent’s hand and holds it within his ‘ganic hand. Touch means so much more to him now than ever before. Just the feel of those rough cybernetic hands are enough to keep him grounded as the ghost of his past hums merrily with young Vince.]
—
[That catchy little tune is enough to make the boy with matted hair hum in unison. However, he winces a little when the nomad boy starts cleaning the lacerations around his neck. It looks like rope burn or something. The bastards who took him must’ve tried to strangle him to near death with a rope. It was probably for an XBD or something. The poor kid is lucky to still be alive after enduring something like that but despite how tough he seems, he’s still just a child.]
Medicine? [He scrunches up his nose in disgust.] But it stinks! It stinks bad.
[The boy whines as the nomad kid keeps tending to his wounds. While he tries to squirm away from the kid, he eventually gives up trying once the nomad slathers the stinky stuff on him.
The scrawny boy lets out an annoyed huff but keeps silent. That is until the nomad started talking. It’s then that he forgets all about the stinging bruises around his neck.]
Can you make ‘em go away? [Little Johnny asks with a hint of suspicion in his tone. It’s almost like he doesn’t believe him.] How come you can make them go away but I can’t?
[He puffs up his cheeks in anger, those bright brown eyes suddenly filling with anger.]
Prayin’ doesn’t make them go away, cryin’ doesn’t make them go away, and runnin’ away doesn’t make the bad people go away either!
[The boy shouts as he pushes the younger kid away from him. He slides off the tree stump he was sitting on and crouches down behind it, still clutching that empty sniper rifle shell.]
Nothing I do matters. I just wake up with more bruises.
cw: mentions of child abuse again
However, he’s no longer alone anymore. He has Vincent by his side and that is all that matters at this point. Johnny unclenched his fists as he slowly turned towards V, his eyes wet with unshed tears. Johnny Silverhand doesn’t cry. No, but he feels the weight of his past nonetheless. He reaches for Vincent’s hand and holds it within his ‘ganic hand. Touch means so much more to him now than ever before. Just the feel of those rough cybernetic hands are enough to keep him grounded as the ghost of his past hums merrily with young Vince.]
—
[That catchy little tune is enough to make the boy with matted hair hum in unison. However, he winces a little when the nomad boy starts cleaning the lacerations around his neck. It looks like rope burn or something. The bastards who took him must’ve tried to strangle him to near death with a rope. It was probably for an XBD or something. The poor kid is lucky to still be alive after enduring something like that but despite how tough he seems, he’s still just a child.]
Medicine? [He scrunches up his nose in disgust.] But it stinks! It stinks bad.
[The boy whines as the nomad kid keeps tending to his wounds. While he tries to squirm away from the kid, he eventually gives up trying once the nomad slathers the stinky stuff on him.
The scrawny boy lets out an annoyed huff but keeps silent. That is until the nomad started talking. It’s then that he forgets all about the stinging bruises around his neck.]
Can you make ‘em go away? [Little Johnny asks with a hint of suspicion in his tone. It’s almost like he doesn’t believe him.] How come you can make them go away but I can’t?
[He puffs up his cheeks in anger, those bright brown eyes suddenly filling with anger.]
Prayin’ doesn’t make them go away, cryin’ doesn’t make them go away, and runnin’ away doesn’t make the bad people go away either!
[The boy shouts as he pushes the younger kid away from him. He slides off the tree stump he was sitting on and crouches down behind it, still clutching that empty sniper rifle shell.]
Nothing I do matters. I just wake up with more bruises.