#this is it. my first post on diego | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

scary-monsters · 4 months ago

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▹broken boy | a diego brando character study | ch.2 | 4k ▹synopsis: Britain's beloved genius jockey. Swimming in money, trophies, lovers, recognition… and yet, he starves for more. With a shady past, dangerously unclear motives, and an explosive ego to boot, it's no wonder his inner circle consists of only himself and those that can benefit him. (Canon leaves out a lot. This fic begins with ten-year-old Diego and aims to fill in the gaps throughout the rest of his life while still remaining true to his core character.) chapter 1 here | read on ao3 instead

Tilly’s removal – and subsequent death, Diego has to assume – puts a damper on the general energy of the stables. It’s likely the lowlifes on this farm have no awareness of it, but Diego feels a significant chunk of himself missing, ripped away from him. Bolt is having a difficult time as well, he can tell. Even though he’s always been stabled on the opposite end of the building from his mother, Diego’s certain he can sense her absence.

He’s always prided himself on his ability to maintain a calm, collected nature. He’d cried and cried and cried when his mother had passed away four years ago, but after a certain amount of time he’d decided it was useless to act like that, a complete waste of time and energy. He’d placed every bit of himself in his work; at first it’d solely been for the sake of making a living, but, gradually, passion had become the driving force behind his efforts.

It takes a few days, but Diego feels his rage start to dissipate. Or, remain dormant, at least. There’s sorrow present as well, frustratingly, but that he stuffs much further down. It’s a waste of time. Rage, at least, can potentially act as a driving force. Sorrow will simply slow him down.

Slow him down from what, exactly? That, he’s still formulating.

Diego continues to place all of himself into the care of his horses. Yes, his, because it seems he’s the only one on this godforsaken farm who even treats them with an ounce of respect. He does his best to not allow his feelings to affect his work, though he admits he has a difficult time caring for the horse who’s taken Tilly’s enclosure. It’s not her fault, of course. Diego knows that. And so, he cares for her as deeply as the others.

But today, he’s decided to end his work day with his only remaining connection to Tilly.

“Alright, boy?” Diego calmly greets Bolt as he lets the door to his stable swing open.

Much like he has every day since the loss of his mother, Bolt greets Diego with only a fraction of his previous enthusiasm. The boy deeply fears that he may hold him accountable for Tilly’s death, which has made caring for Bolt much more difficult for him ever since. But Bolt snorts, though quietly, and Diego takes it as a friendly response.

“Right, then.” Now feeling welcome, Diego enters and approaches Bolt, petting his muzzle and giving his shoulder a gentle pat. “Let’s get you sorted. How about a ride later?”

No objections. Diego sets to work, starting by cleaning the floor and moving on to replace Bolt’s water and hay. While brushing his coat and cleaning his hooves, he has a quiet, ongoing one-sided conversation with the horse. He’s mature enough to know that, of course, he can’t be given verbal responses, but a part of him thinks Bolt can understand him regardless.

Thankfully, Bolt appears a bit more enthusiastic as Diego saddles him. The boy gives him an encouraging pat on his side, mumbling praise before guiding him out from the stables. The late afternoon sun beats down on the two, and as Diego shields his eyes he once again refrains from looking at anybody else out and about. In order to avoid the public as a whole, he decides he’ll take Bolt out towards the edge of town.

The gravel road crunches underneath Bolt’s hooves as the pair heads out, Diego again feeling like a king on his throne as he sits atop his companion. He tightly grasps the reins, clicking his tongue as encouragement for the horse to move a little quicker. Homes and small shops pass by and gradually become more spread apart; a rickety old fence borders the entirety of the community, with only a single opening large enough for a carriage.

Diego tugs gently at the reins as a sign for his companion to stop. The boy stares at the fence, at the road and expanse of trees that lay in front of him; the sight of it along with the quiet air and the distant twittering of birds pulls his mind to settle on the memory of a moment just a few years ago.

His mother had always warned him that venturing outside the fence would only bring him punishment, and even as Diego was such a curious child, his respect for his mother would always rule above all. On the rare occasions where they could spend time together, not working, she’d take him on walks around the border of the community. It was moments like this, his small hand held tightly in hers, that he felt most at peace.

“What’s out there?” He’d asked one day, pointing out towards the line of trees, into woods that housed things his young mind could only wander wildly about. Being told it was “dangerous” was never enough of an answer for him.

Eyeing him with an almost apologetic look, she’d stopped in her tracks to crouch down to his level. Diego’s mother was young, and though Diego never heard details about her life experiences, it was always clear to him that her wisdom far exceeded her years. Wisdom, dignity, resilience… a small list of the traits he always looked up to her for.

“Nothing for a young boy like you,” she’d teased him, gently pinching his nose between her fingers. “S’far as we’re concerned, all we need is inside this fence.”

It’s a wonder where Diego had developed such keen senses, but even from a very young age he could sense weight pulling at his mother’s soul. From up close, he could see the bags under her eyes due to lack of sleep, dark marks on her neck that his boyish mind could never fully place a source for. Diego carried with him a certain light-hearted energy, and as such he was always eager to lift her spirits.

“Will you take me sometime?” He’d asked, eyes lighting up. “When I’m not a young boy anymore?”

Diego’s mother had smiled at him, softly dragging her hand through his flaxen curls. With bated breath, he waited for her answer, but the only thing she offered him was neither a yes or a no.

“Let’s head back, we’d best be lining up for supper.”

With that, she’d stood, tugging gently on his hand and leading him back towards the farm. Young Diego had taken one more glance behind him, mind buzzing with ideas of what could possibly reside outside the fence.

The sound of Bolt snorting wakes Diego from his daydream. He shuts his eyes for a moment, shakes his head. He has a job to do, and standing out here reminiscing on the past is just a distraction. When his horse starts to move towards the gap in the fence, Diego attempts to stop him, but Bolt simply presses on, ignoring the tugging of his reins.

“Bolt!” He scolds him, pulling even harder at the risk of causing his companion some discomfort. “Inside the fence, you know the rules.”

Tragically, they are the rules. His mother’s insistence on staying inside was never an attempt at ruining his fun, it’s simply the way things have always worked around here. Leaving the property equates to leaving the community, according to his employers. Sure, Diego hates the people of this town with all the rage a boy his size can possibly contain, but this is his home. It’s all he knows.

As such, even if he were able, the idea of crossing that fence fills him with fear. What’s out there? He still doesn’t know. Would he like to? Well –

Bolt is still determined, shaking his head in an effort to pull his reins free from Diego’s hands. The boy panics, instead tugging on his mane and scolding him a bit louder. Unfortunately the trait he’s always loved most about Bolt is the one that could also get him into serious trouble.

“Enough!” In an act of pure panic, he slaps his hand against Bolt’s neck and clings tightly to his mane when the horse lifts up on his hind legs. With even more of a startled tone, he tries again. “Bolt, stop!”

Maybe it’s the fear in his voice, but that seems to do the trick. His horse eases back down on all fours, stopping just short of crossing the fence. Diego immediately grasps at the reins with shaky hands, taking a deep breath.

“What’s with you?” He mumbles. “I can’t take you out for rides if you’re going to act like this.”

Bolt snorts in defiance, eyes still fixed on the road leading out into who knows what.

“There’s nothing out there for us, boy.” Diego strokes his mane apologetically. “My mother said so.”

Saying the word makes his heart sink for a moment. The memory of her still sits like a weight in his chest, one that he’s afraid he’ll never be able to lift. If only she were here, standing next to him and watching him do his work, likely scolding him for getting too close to the woods. He’d give anything for it, even if it meant getting a whooping and a stern talking to.

“I miss her, you know.” He admits to the air, and to his horse. His hand is still mindlessly brushing through Bolt’s mane. “She’d be furious with me for ever getting this far out, by myself.” He allows himself a soft chuckle.

Bolt’s ears twitch and he snorts again, as if in reply, but his eyes are still staring off into the distance.

“You miss yours too.” Diego observes, and it might be a stretch, but he’s almost certain Bolt is especially receptive to those words. He leans down to bury his nose in the horse’s mane, a silent gesture of sympathy.

Perhaps that’s what’s drawn him out here like this, Diego thinks. He’s desperate to find her, to make sure she’s okay, holding on the smallest shred of hope that she’s out there, past the confines of this town. Diego almost feels lucky in that sense; his mother had passed right in front of his eyes, there was no room for false hope or desperation. It was done, and the young boy had no choice but to carry on.

“She’s gone,” he gently says, rubbing a soothing hand along Bolt’s muzzle. “We’re one in the same, you and I.”

Somehow his heart feels at least a little lighter at that declaration. He’s not completely alone, of course. Diego has his horses, and he has Bolt, who he’s developed a sort of kindredship with. Just a couple of motherless boys trying to fit into a community that treats them lesser than. So, Diego lets Bolt stand there for a moment, allows his mind to go wherever it likes, possibly to play with the idea of freedom. After a while, he realizes he can’t let it go on for too long. Otherwise they’ll both start aching for something neither of them are ready for.

“Let’s head back.” With the reins back in hand he guides Bolt to turn back around, clicking his tongue. “If we’re out too late they’ll start breathing down my neck with questions.”

-----

Stable locked up and horses all accounted for, Diego takes his worn-out body towards the building where he’s had dinner every day for the entirety of his life. It’s always cramped, loud, and full of people whose general demeanor makes Diego’s skin crawl. He always avoids their faces, as his mind still remembers those clearly who paid him and his mother no mind when they were both struggling, when she was near the brink of death. He’s almost positive that now, at this age, he’d be far too tempted to drag any he recognizes outside to give them a taste of their own medicine.

Diego clutches his cup close to his chest, holding it in a protective manner just as his mother had always taught him. It’s the very same one she’d eventually been able to buy for him after their previous cups had been tampered with, and if anything were to happen to it, then… well –

“Move, boy,” a gruff voice comes from behind him and his body is given a quick shove.

Barely any space has freed up in front of him in line, but the people of this town are so selfish and impatient that it’s not uncommon for him to be treated this way. Shamefully relenting, Diego takes a deep, calming breath, and packs himself as tightly against the man in front of him in line. It’s an everyday occurrence, fighting to stay calm amongst a crowd of people who make him feel an uncomfortable amount of rage.

Eventually he reaches the front, already feeling the heat radiating off the massive cauldron of soup. As he always does, Diego attempts to ignore the man with the ladle. His mother would likely scold him, telling him it’s important to look someone in the eye as you take food from them. Diego hopes that, given the circumstances, she’d disregard his treatment of this man in particular. This time of night is always when his dignity is most heavily tested.

“Right then, boy,” the disgustingly familiar voice comes from in front of him, and Diego lifts his cup, waiting for his soup to be poured. When nothing happens, he lifts his eyes enough to notice that the man hasn’t even scooped up his portion yet.

“Heard you were out at the edge of town today,” the man drawls, tone antagonistic, “not thinkin’ of running away, are ya?”

The sound of a couple men nearby laughing under their breath prods at Diego’s self-restraint. He heavily gulps and makes an attempt at a stern voice.

“I’d like my dinner,” he pauses, disgusted with himself when he finishes with politeness, “please.”

“Ignorin’ my question?” His voice is like a knife pressing sharp against Diego’s self-control. “Can’t even look a man in the eye when he’s talkin’ to ya.”

Fine. Diego lifts his head and stares directly into the man’s eyes, clinking his cup against the side of the cauldron.

“Dinner. You’re holding up the line, sir.” He says the last word with more provocation than he’d intended.

Judging by the look of disgust forming on the man’s repulsive face, Diego is keenly aware that he’s struck a nerve. Yes, his mother would definitely be disappointed in him right now.

“What’s that? Know your place, boy.”

Diego holds his ground, once again hitting his cup against the container of soup. Every atom in his body is fighting to control his desire to pummel the man. Even after all these years he’s treated Diego with nothing but disrespect.

“Just like your mother,” the man spits, but finally dispenses a ladleful of soup into Diego’s cup. “Ungrateful swine.”

Diego’s hand tenses around the cup, curling his lip up into a scowl.

“Excuse me?” He asks, but there’s no time for the man to even repeat himself.

Just as quickly as the soup had been placed into his cup, it’s chucked back out and onto the man in front of him. It’s scorching hot, landing directly on his clothes and splattering up against his face. Diego watches the man yelp in pain, not even caring that his dinner won’t be warming his stomach this evening.

Distracted by his own boiling rage, Diego barely registers hands grappling at his waist and wrapping around his arms. His instincts still kick in, however, and he writhes around, thrashing his limbs in defiance.

“Throw him out!” The man wearing Diego’s dinner yells, wiping desperately at his face. “Get rid of the boy!”

Diego’s cup clinks to the ground somewhere amongst the crowd of people who simply watch as he’s dragged outside the building by men much larger and stronger than him. Instead of fearing for his life, Diego feels a triumphant grin fill his face; the man who’s caused him and his mother so much pain and distress finally got a taste of his own medicine. Despite what he thought earlier, maybe his mother wouldn’t be disappointed in him. No, he thinks maybe she’d be quite proud of him, albeit quietly.

His body lands with a thump against the gravel; the dimly lit space outside the building makes it difficult to see the faces of the men who’ve thrown him out, but surely it doesn’t matter. He’s still feeling victorious, even despite the grumbling of his stomach. He’ll eat tomorrow, for now he’ll bask in the wash of power he feels over taking a stand for both his mother and himself.

That’s until one of the men sneaks out from the group and stomps towards him, immediately grasping the front of his shirt and tugging him up to face him directly.

“Are you stupid?” The man spits, and Diego’s shock dissipates enough for him to recognize the farmhand who’s been employing him for as long as he can remember.

Diego opens his mouth to reply but is only tossed back to the ground, left to stare up at the man while his palms are pressed against sharp tiny rocks.

“First the old mare, now this. You’re making a fool of yourself, boy.” The scolding is partnered with a kick, sending dust into Diego’s eyes. “Well?”

Diego takes a breath to alleviate some of the shock in his limbs, but the action only fills his lungs with dust and forces him into a coughing fit.

“Stay away from the stables.” He’s commanded, and Diego’s heart immediately sinks. “I can’t employ someone who behaves like this.”

Before he can even make a case for himself, Diego watches the farmhand turn on his heel and head back inside the building. He’s left with only the surrounding chirp of crickets and the hum of activity inside. Without the distraction of being scolded, his mind immediately settles on the pain stinging his palms and dragging through his throat. The last few minutes feel like a whirlwind.

Has he lost his job? Panic bubbles up inside him and he darts his eyes around the ground surrounding him. His cup, he’s lost his cup, his mother would be sorely disappointed in him, likely telling him off for misplacing his belongings when it’s so crucial to keep them on him at all times or at least in his line of sight –

It takes every shred of his control to fight back the tears that he knows are about to come. Stay calm, he reminds himself. He has to stay calm, or else the people of this town will see his weakness and toss him out. If he doesn’t pull himself together, then he’ll lose everything.

Just as Diego starts to stand up, he pauses. Succumbing to realization, he thumps back down, curling his legs up and stuffing his face against his knees. He has lost everything, all in the blink of an eye. His dinner, his only connections in this town, any shred of respect anyone could have possibly had for him, his job, his horses, Bolt…

That’s what breaks him. Diego kicks at the ground, knowing full well that a tantrum will overcome him. Everything he’s worked so hard for, stolen from him in one swift moment, simply because he stood his ground and demanded respect for once in his life. If he must have a tantrum, then he won’t do it here, not in plain sight.

Within a few moments, Diego forces himself up and aggressively wipes at his eyes. He starts running, going wherever his feet choose to take him. As he gets closer and closer to his unknown destination, he allows himself a small number of pathetic sniffles and cries, though he keeps the majority locked behind lips clenched tightly between teeth.

Finally he finds himself standing at the very spot that’d gotten him into trouble in the first place. The long road leading to anywhere but here practically screams to him, begging him to get away, far away. For the first time in his life he doesn’t feel the distant pull of his mother’s hand, almost as if, wherever her soul resides, she’s finally given him permission to leave.

He’s not a young boy anymore. The world is open to him, and what perfect timing for this realization. Diego looks back over his shoulder, eyeing the town behind him with disgust. But he can’t leave by himself, he’s fully aware. The great unknown requires a partner, and he thinks he knows the perfect candidate.

-----

With haste, Diego takes advantage of dinnertime and heads back to his shabby little room at the inn. Luckily for him, his belongings don’t consist of much. His everyday attire, his sleep clothes, his tattered bedroll… his eyes hurriedly dart around the room, finally settling on an old rucksack he hasn’t used in years. It belonged to his mother, but he never had the heart to get rid of it. When he opens it to stuff his belongings inside, he stops.

Inside sits his beloved shirt from when he was much younger. Turquoise, thin with years of wear, decorated with several bows that his mother had lovingly sewn on for him. It takes up barely any space and fills his heart with a sudden burst of determination.

“I’m leaving,” he whispers to no one but the memory of his mother, “for both of us.”

With that, he stuffs the bag with his clothing and places his folded up bedroll underneath his arm. When he returns outside he’s relieved to see the public still gathered around the dining hall; he just hopes there won’t be any eyes on him when he makes his way to the stables.

Diego works quickly and quietly, shushing the horses when they excitedly greet him. He does his best to ignore the pain in his heart when he realizes this will be the last time he sees them, but there’s no time for goodbyes, and he hopes that if they knew his plan, the last thing they’d do is view him with distaste.

Bolt is still awake, though reacting with surprise when he sees Diego enter his stable so late at night.

“We’re getting out of here,” Diego explains to him in a hushed voice. “Me and you, together.”

Diego presses his forehead against Bolt’s muzzle and takes a shaky, nervous breath in an attempt to calm the both of them. His companion allows him to quickly suit him up, clearly unbothered by the extra weight of Diego’s belongings fastened tightly to the saddle.

“Let’s go,” Diego whispers, snapping the reins with a flick of his wrist. And as though Bolt has quickly caught on to his plan, the horse moves carefully out of the building. He’s clearly chosen the right friend to embark on this journey with him.

The pair take the long route out of town, carefully moving behind structures in an effort to shield themselves from the view of the dining hall. Diego’s nerves are eating away at him, but he’s thankful to see his demeanor isn’t rubbing off on Bolt. His companion seems confident, moving with urgency while still maintaining a quiet pace. Diego can only take a relieved breath when they’ve reached the fence again, but he still checks behind him to make sure no one is following them.

The coast is clear; he snaps his head back around towards the mysterious, expansive darkness in front of them. It’s much more intimidating at night, but there’s no turning back now. Diego shuts his eyes, pictures his mother’s face as clearly as he can, and imagines the pride that he knows would be so present in her expression.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Without any further instruction, Bolt trots outside the fence, then gallops at a quick pace away from the only home both of them have ever known. For the first time in his life, Diego feels freedom overtake him.

#diego brando #steel ball run #jjba fanfic #jjba part 7 #sbr #jjba #diego #my writing #again this is not new! very old writing but i'm gradually posting it here #i actually updated this fic a couple days ago but i'll post ch 4 here after i get this and 3 posted first

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