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They're separated now. There's no need for Velén to seek out Johnny's company, but they do anyways. Part of him doesn't want to trust it. So, he pushes. Small shit. Things that annoy the fuck outta V before escalating. He waits for them to pull away. Of course they will. Like Alt. Rogue. Kerry. Can't handle him so they give up when it gets tough. He snarls and bites like a beaten dog. It's not his fault they don't wanna deal with his shit anymore. V's only sticking with him 'cause they have to. The kind of warped sense of loyalty you only get from surviving together. Johnny knows they won't forgive him easily, if at all, but he has to see it through.
Only, he's grabbed by the proverbial scruff by a firm hand sometime after settling in Tuscon with the Aldecaldos.
Everyone who should be asleep is down for the night in camp, save for a few tarmac rats hanging around the campfire and making noise on an acoustic guitar.
Johnny's smoking. Just two cigarettes this time because the smell makes V's nausea worse now that their brain's frying out. Trimming down from a pack or two's not easy, but it's better than hearing V tell him they could sleep separately if their coughing and gagging keeps him up at night. And Johnny isn't leaving their shitty tent for anything other than a clan emergency when V's a chill away from keeling over. It's got nothing to do with the way going to bed on his own makes him jittery - plus some other bullshit he's not sharing without a fuckton of bourbon in his system. If he and Velén were still connected, they'd know and stop asking asking him how he's feeling.
Less than five feet away, near the opening of their tent, Velén closes their eyes and tilts their head towards the night sky. He can hear it already; some mushy Eurodyne lyric loops in his head when their blue hair reflects moonlight.
As if sensing the weight of his stare, Velén holds their hand out, palm up and waiting. He snuffs out the cigarette under his boot and walks the short distance between them. Gorilla arm cyberware catch on his new body's own calluses before slotting his 'ganic fingers between theirs. Velén tugs him closer until they're side by side and he leans into them like he's starved for it. A soft noise leaves their mouth when Johnny drops his head on their shoulder. Up close, he can hear their lungs rattle with each breath.
"Y'know," Velén starts, four vibrant irises pin him down in his peripherals. "For someone who spent months stuck in my head, you think you'd've gotten better at talking to me instead of pulling this shit "
"The fuck you goin' on about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talkin' about, Silverhand."
His lip curls into a sneer; a fight, is that what you fuckin' want? Velén steamrolls over him before he can even open his mouth.
"Panam's contacts: the ripperdocs. You've been a real dick since we saw them last week."
"Like you've been a joy to be with. What, thought that I'd turn over a new leaf, sunshine out my ass 'cause we crossed state lines?" His fingers twitch in V's hand. He wants to fold his arms, maybe pace a little, but V's grip is an anchor keeping him from floating away. He makes no effort to move.
Like he didn't even speak, Velén continues, "that's not what I meant and you know it... The cells around my neural port have a slim chance of healing the worst of the relic's damage. No saying if I'll get any better. I'll be fighting time before I see any progress, if at all."
"V-"
"-And you haven't said or done a damn thing except get on my last nerve."
Velén pulls away to look at him. Really look at him. His arms wound their way around Velén's waist, metal on brown skin where the Aldecaldo bolero and their unitard doesn't cover them up. They lift their hands to cup his cheeks, and suddenly, Johnny is whole again. They're connected at three points: hands, chest, hips. Practically virginal considering what they're used to.
It's not enough. It'll never be enough.
His desperation must be written on his face or Velén knows him all too well, 'cause they press into him. Smacks a kiss to the bridge of his nose and over his eyelids, across his cheekbones. The same shit V used to do to Misty, to Jackie - even Nibbles when they thought they were upset and needed extra attention. It works, stupidly. Makes him feel a little more solid. Good. A beaten dog rolling over exposing his belly for scraps.
He blinks slow. Stares at V - from the silver cyberware to their hooked nose and cupid's bow. They peck his lips, too quick for him to get a taste.
"Not leavin' you, Johnny, Not on purpose at least, and not for a while."
And what's Johnny supposed to say to that?
Instead, he stays quiet. Shakes away Velén's hands then buries his face in their neck right above their collar. Fingernails gently run over his scalp and the leftover tension from earlier fades away.
"V, I'm just..." Johnny hesitates. "I'm just scared for ya..."
He squeezes them. Be easier if Velén could feel him. If he holds them hard enough, maybe they'll be joined together again. Slip right back in the space Alt carved out.
There’s too much shit to say and Velén's on borrowed time. But he'll try. For V.