He heard Johnny's words, recognized his voice and his head had whipped around to search for the source of it. But a moment later there was a hand reaching out for him and the moment his fingertips touched skin, Emo winced and recoiled. He curled in even tighter, head turning downward, jaw clenched and eyes wrenched shut. But there was still Johnny's voice through it all and even if he couldn't recognize at the moment that it was his boyfriend touching him.
If there was any clarity left in his mind, it was all being used to focus on Johnny's voice. Eventually he did turn back, uncurling enough to reveal the scrapes on his arms (from his own nails) and the torn shirt. He slowly reached out, fingertips touching warm skin, bare skin. Whatever had been touching him hadn't had bare skin, hadn't been that broad. This wasn't whatever had attacked him - because really, that's all he could think of it as now, an attack by something larger and stronger than himself and terrifying.
As he looked up, though, it was almost as though he was looking through Johnny instead of at him. He couldn't say anything, couldn't verbalize what was going on - but there was the clear look in his face of fear - not of Johnny, but of whatever else was going on in his head.