Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7637701.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      ジョジョの奇妙な冒険_|_JoJo_no_Kimyou_na_Bouken_|_JoJo's_Bizarre_Adventure
  Relationship:
      Kakyoin_Noriaki/Kujo_Jotaro
  Character:
      Kakyoin_Noriaki, Kujo_Jotaro, Jean_Pierre_Polnareff, Joseph_Joestar,
      Mohammed_Abdul, Kujo_Jotaro's_Wife, Kujo_Jolyne
  Additional Tags:
      Past_Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic_Stress_Disorder_-_PTSD, Angst,
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon_Divergence, Smut
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-07-31 Completed: 2016-09-26 Chapters: 7/7 Words: 14420
****** Evening Bath ******
by kawauso
Summary
     Jotaro visits Kakyoin while his marriage is falling apart and thinks
     about the events that led him here.
Notes
     Content Warning: internalized homophobia, mild ablism
See the end of the work for more notes
***** Evening *****
Jotaro stood in the entryway of the apartment building and pressed the button
for Unit 108. No response. He can’t be asleep yet, he thought, it’s not even
sunset. Maybe he should have called first, but Kakyoin was basically always
there, and nowadays keeping pretty normal hours. He waited another moment, then
raised his hand to press the button again and froze when he saw a flash of
color out of the corner of his eye.
Hierophant Green. The stand hovered just inside the glass door, looked Jotaro
over as much as an eyeless creature could, then gave a small wave and snaked
off back into the building. Jotaro heard the buzz and click of the front door
unlocking and let himself in to the familiar hallway, striding towards the door
marked 108 which swung open as he approached.
“Hey,” he announced to the man who was furiously typing away at the computer in
the corner of the room. “I, uh, need a-”
“-place to stay,” finished Kakyoin, not looking up from the screen. “I
figured.” He gestured vaguely at the rest of the apartment behind him. “You
know where everything is, I’ve really gotta finish this tonight.”
Jotaro dropped his bag on the floor and took a look around. Not much had
changed in the year or so since he’d been there last - there were more books,
maybe, and the computer was the newest model, with what looked like a modem
plugged into the side. But otherwise, it was the same as it’d been for years -
the hardwood floors and wide doorways, the couch that Jotaro had uncomfortably
folded his 195 cm frame onto to sleep a few times before, the well-organized
bookcases and meticulously neat surfaces, the countertops and range at
wheelchair accessible height, the western-style bed. The wheelchair itself was
parked by the door; Kakyoin refused to use it at home, despite all the thought
that had gone into his accommodations.
He had been doing freelance translation work for a while now and seemed fairly
engrossed in his current project, so Jotaro tried not to bother him any
further. He flopped back on the couch, idly flipped through an electronics
enthusiast’s magazine he found on the end table, stared at the ceiling for a
while, fidgeted. Kaykoin said nothing except the occasional grumble to himself
as he clicked back and forth between two documents, one in Japanese and one in
English.
It was actually fascinating to watch him work, Jotaro realized. His eyes didn’t
leave the screen, and he of course didn’t leave the chair, but Hierophant’s
tendrils acted as a personal assistant, bringing him a Japanese-English
technical dictionary from the shelf, a glass of water, a working pen to
scribble notes on the legal pad on the desk next to the keyboard. He was like a
spider in the center of his web, never missing a beat or fumbling anything. It
dawned on Jotaro that he’d been relying on the stand for long enough that they
were essentially inseparable, whereas he hadn’t even called up Star Platinum in
a few months now. He felt vaguely guilty.
Finally, Kakyoin sighed and pushed back from the keyboard. The modem began the
hisses and beeps that preceded connecting, and Jotaro cleared his throat to
speak.
“I think it’s finally over.”
“Mmm hmm,” said Kakyoin, loading up his email client and firing off a quick
message to which he attached his finished document.
“No, really, she wants a separation. She won’t even listen to me.”
“That’s too bad,” replied Kakyoin dryly, logging back off of the internet and
beginning the shutdown process.
“I don’t know what she wants, she’s mad that I’m always off on a field
placement or running errands for the Old Man, but then she’s mad when I come
home. I can’t win.”
“Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”
“I’ve really tried, at least for Jolyne’s sake. But everything I do is wrong. I
don’t know what the hell she wants from me.”
“Maybe she’s just bored of you,” said Kakyoin, turning off the monitor and
resting his forehead against the desk. “Maybe she’s tired of you disappearing
for a year and then showing up out of nowhere, trying to take advantage of a
relationship you never gave a shit about in the first place.”
Jotaro stared at his back, stunned into silence.
“Just a thought.”
He was reminded, as he had been over the years, that Kakyoin could get
downright mean when he was in a bad mood.
He’s right, though, said the self-critical voice in Jotaro’s head that seemed
to always be there, keeping running commentary on his every word and deed.
Kakyoin turned and looked at him with an unreadable expression and tired eyes
“Maybe you should find a hotel room tonight.”
Jotaro stared blankly, trying to sort through the jumble of thoughts in his
head and failing. “That’s fair,” he finally answered, standing and collecting
his bag. “See ya.” He headed towards the door and was stopped with his hand on
the knob by a “wait, not yet.” He turned around.
“Help me with my bath first,” said Kakyoin, with a hint of the shyness he’d had
when they’d first met six years before. He turned in his office chair and
stood, a little unsteadily, picking up the crutches that had been leaning
against the desk. Hierophant had already started the water running in the large
bathroom, and Kakyoin slowly made his way towards it, his right foot dragging
slightly behind.
What the hell, thought Jotaro, he doesn’t need help with his bath. He hates
having help with his bath.
Jotaro was confused.
***** Desire *****
Jotaro was confused.
Not about Star Platinum, at least not any more. He’d initially thought he had
gone insane, and then when he realized that the spirit following him could
interact with the world and that nothing else seemed amiss, that he’d been
possessed for some minor transgression and was cursed to be pursued until the
end of his days. But his grandfather’s reasonable-seeming explanation relaxed
him, and the presence of Hermit Purple and Magician’s Red made him feel like
his stand was almost normal, a natural step towards adulthood. And everything
felt a lot more intense now - his eyesight was sharper, cigarettes tasted
better, he could feel the wind change and the humidity shifting.
And he wasn’t confused that the crazy asshole who tried to kill him at school
turned out to be, once cleansed of Dio’s influence, a polite and slightly shy
young man who called him “Kujo-san” until Jotaro decided it was too absurd that
someone whose brain he’d just reached into was still so formal, and demanded
that the he use his first name instead. He certainly looked like a buttoned-
down honor student who played by the rules, the kind of guy who Jotaro would
normally hate for wasting his intelligence on something as trivial as school.
What he was confused about was: he actually enjoyed Kakyoin’s company. He was
still way too polite and gave the impression of being delicate, despite his
definitely masculine build. Not feminine, really, but with a slightly
androgynous elegance and grace. He was bright, with an insatiable curiosity
about the world around him, and surprisingly funny once he relaxed and opened
up a little.
What he was really confused about was: the urge he had to touch him. He had
buddies at school with whom he was casually physical - punching each other in
the halls, sharing smokes and pushing each other over as a joke. This was
different. When he was around Kakyoin, he felt the need to ruffle his hair,
rest his chin on his head, lift him up with one arm and watch him squirm. It
felt strange, but also somehow satisfying. Was it a “stand” thing? Probably
not, he felt the same towards his grandfather as ever, and Avdol seemed nice
and all, but otherwise uninteresting to him.
What he was incredibly confused about was: how the vague sense of unease he’d
been feeling lately, the sense of something untouchable in his life being
slightly wrong, went away when he was around Kakyoin. Things felt right. Jotaro
never would have given him a second thought if they’d met under normal
circumstances, but their friendship felt natural, easy. What was it about him?
===============================================================================
It was Jotaro’s first time on a ship, and he was having and interesting and
educational time wandering around below deck with Kakyoin trailing behind him.
It was a cargo ship, commandeered there in the South China Sea for use by the
Joestar entourage, and the hold was full of interesting crates stamped “SPW”,
the walls were brushed steel that were cool to the touch, the sailors largely
ignored the two of them as they generally made a nuisance of themselves. After
some exploration, they found themselves in one of the cabins, more of a closet
with two cots and a single porthole jammed in.
“This is nuts,” said Jotaro, lying down on one of the bunks, “I barely fit.” He
sat up and swung his legs over the side, accidentally ramming his knee into
Kakyoin’s. There was just enough space in the middle of the room for one person
to walk, so long as they were of average build. Which Kakyoin was, by Western
standards, despite being taller than most of his classmates. Jotaro, of course,
was another story.
“Most sailors aren’t as freakishly tall as you,” smirked Kakyoin, and Jotaro
kicked him lightly in the shin. Kakyoin kicked him back and smacked his knee
back against Jotaro’s for good measure.
“Guess I should get used to it, I’m going to study marine biology.” He was
slightly surprised to have just said this out loud, he hadn’t even told the
school guidance counselor yet, nor his biology teacher. Somehow, he often found
himself saying things to Kakyoin that he’d normally just think to himself.
“That’s really neat,” said Kakyoin, genuinely, “I haven’t even started to
narrow it down, there’s just too much I want to learn.”
Jotaro shrugged, “I guess. I just really like the ocean.”
“It shows,” Kakyoin said, turning to gaze out the porthole, “you’ve been really
happy since we came aboard. It’s nice.” His angular profile was traced by the
sunlight slanting in, a halo outlining his silhouette, and he had that slightly
faraway expression he’d get when he was contemplating something.
Shit, he’s cute, thought Jotaro.
And then: what the hell did I mean by that?
It was nice to be out on the ocean, though, hearing the slap of the waves
against the hull and smelling the brine that was suspended in the air. The
horizon was a simple line between the sea and the sky, and the sun sparkled on
the surface of the water. Everything felt peaceful, especially after the
traumatic plane ride they’d had earlier, and Kakyoin’s knee against his was
pleasantly warm.
And then Kakyoin turned back and smiled at him, that wide, thin-lipped smile,
and Jotaro felt himself get hard. And all the confusing feelings of the past
couple of days suddenly made sense.
Shit.
He’d considered himself to be a fairly average teenager, all things considered.
He’d looked at the porn magazines that the boys in his class furtively passed
around. He’d been on dates with girls, kissed them, and even experimentally
groped a few. He was slightly uncomfortable with the girls who flocked around
him becoming increasingly more obvious about how they wanted to sleep with him,
but this feeling seemed rational - they were all fundamentally irritating
people, and he wouldn’t want to deal with them afterwards. He had as healthy a
relationship with his right hand as any teenaged boy. It hadn’t occurred to him
that he’d never been genuinely attracted to another person until now.
Shit, shit, shit. Now what? Kakyoin was looking at him. How obvious was it? His
pants were a tight fit, as was the current style, and they definitely felt a
little tighter right now. He fought the urge to glance downwards, that’d just
draw attention to it.
Their knees were still touching.
Fucking do something, he ordered himself, and the thing that felt right even as
his brain told him it was stupid was to bring his other knee over, capturing
Kakyoin’s between his two. Kakyoin’s eyes widened and his mouth opened as if to
say something, but he was quiet. They looked at each other. Jotaro suddenly
wanted to kiss him, a realization that left him feeling a little dizzy. Not
wanted. Needed. Shit.
“Boys, where the hell are you? We’re going to eat.” Joseph’s voice echoed down
the hallway and broke the spell. And he didn’t have time after that to capture
that feeling again, no matter how agonizingly close to him Kakyoin was, the
warmth of his body radiating into Jotaro’s, his masculine beauty making his
heartbeat stutter. They were in danger, there were enemy Stand users even out
here in the ocean, and it was Jotaro’s job to protect them all. He was the
strongest, he and Star Platinum seemed to draw the brunt of the attacks. And
the visceral act of brawling was much less complicated than the strange and
unfamiliar feelings he’d been experiencing. Punch, fight, don’t die.
***
In Singapore, Joseph sprung for rooms at one of the nicer hotels, the past
couple of days had been exhausting for everyone. Jotaro was particularly tired
and zoning out a little, only half-listening to the group’s conversation, when
he heard, “Jotaro and I will share a room” and his pulse began to pound. Calm
down, he told himself, it doesn’t mean anything, but he was wide awake and
suddenly on edge as they followed the corridor to the double they’d been
assigned.
Inside, Kakyoin removed his shoes and carefully hung up his jacket, then lay
down on the bed farthest from the door. “A real mattress,” he sighed,
luxuriating in the comfort. Jotaro, hardly feeling in control of himself, sat
down next to him, the springs squeaking slightly under his bulk. The two of
them hadn’t been alone since that time in the ship’s cabin, and suddenly the
air was heavy between them.
This is happening, he thought, and briefly considered how strange it was to
feel so powerfully drawn towards another man, but then, everything was strange
lately.
Kakyoin looked up at him questioningly. “Mm?” He seemed slightly flushed and
shifted his legs as if uncomfortable. Jotaro’s breath caught; his body was
suddenly giving him a whole jumble of orders that he needed to sort out and
follow.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi.”
Kakyoin smiled again and Jotaro couldn’t take it any more, and leaned down and
kissed him.
Although his hormones were screaming at him, he pulled back after a few
seconds, unsure as to what to do next, but then, miraculously, Kakyoin leaned
up and kissed him back. And kissed him more. And they opened their mouths
against each other and Jotaro kicked off his shoes and lay down next to him,
putting his hand on Kakyoin’s slender waist. Kakyoin lightly touched the back
of Jotaro’s neck and slid closer.
This was right. This was very right, and immensely exciting. Jotaro was
instantly hard once more, itching to get some stimulation but cautious about
moving too fast. He wiggled a little closer and pushed his knee between
Kakyoin’s legs, slowly bringing his thigh up until he encountered a similar
hardness. Kakyoin gasped and pressed against him, kissing him harder and with
more urgency. His hipbone grazed against Jotaro’s own erection and Jotaro felt
lightheaded and rolled his hips forward.
They had passed a point of no return and everything that happened thereafter
was inevitable. They nipped at each other’s mouths hungrily, pressed their
bodies together and writhed against one another. Jotaro, feeling a building
need for more, nudged Kakyoin onto his back and swung a leg over him, pushing
down against him, grabbing at his skinny thighs, moaning involuntarily as
Kakyoin bucked his hips up and he could feel how aroused he was, how much ,like
Jotaro, he wanted this. Wanting and being wanted fed into each other and became
need, he needed more of Kakyoin’s lips on his, Kakyoin’s body against his own.
They rocked against each other, breath quickening. Jotaro was entirely focused
on the demanding pleasure in his groin, and barely noticed the chafing of his
underwear, the way Kakyoin suddenly yelped and pushed up hard, then lay gasping
underneath him. Finally, he reached the height of his plateau and was lost in
bliss.
When he collected himself, he found he was splayed over Kakyoin, one hand
tangled in his hair. The room’s ceiling fan quietly whirred above them, and he
felt a sticky warmth on his abdomen that he hadn’t experienced since
adolescence, when erections and ejaculation were a lot less predictable.
Wow, he thought.
And then: now what?
He lay there a few more minutes, unable to form a complete thought, until
Kakyoin spoke from under him.
“Jojo?”
“Hm?”
“You’re kinda heavy.”
“Sorry.” He rolled off and Kakyoin extracted himself and staggered towards the
bathroom. Jotaro heard water running, then silence, then water running again.
He’s taking a long time in there. The experience had been intense and
definitely not something Jotaro had planned for. He began to worry if they’d
crossed a line, if the entire rest of the trip was going to be awkward and
emotionally overwrought. Maybe Avdol would switch roommates with him. Shit.
The bathroom door opened and Kakyoin poked out his head and a bit of bare
torso. “Um… do you want to take a shower with me?”
“Yeah,” Jotaro answered gratefully, his body tingling in eager response. He
stripped off his clothes as he approached and was met with a kiss, and after
that, everything was wonderful.
***** Down *****
“Jojo!”
In the backseat of the rental car on the road to Calcutta, Jotaro was roused
from a particularly explicit daydream about Kakyoin and that thing he did with
his tongue the previous night.
“Do the cigarette trick again!” continued Polnareff the Easily Bored.
“Gimme some cigarettes, then,” grumbled Jotaro.
“Hell no, use your own.” Avdol said something reproachful from the front seat
in French and Polnareff answered back peevishly. Kakyoin the language buff, the
one who recognized words on highway signs sooner than anyone else, and who put
even Polnareff and Avdol to shame with the various vocabularies under his belt,
leaned closer to Jotaro and translated:
“He said, ‘Give him the cigarettes, Jean, you smoke too much anyway,’ and
Polnareff said, ‘Let him waste his own, these are-’ a brand name, I think? ‘He
smokes garbage.’” He chuckled and said something to the two in French, of which
Jotaro caught “Polnareff” and a word that sounded awfully like the English
“idiot”.
Avdol laughed uproariously. “True, but use ‘tu’ and not ‘vous’, you don’t have
to be polite with that guy.”
Polnareff twisted his face into an exaggerated pout. “Mr. Joestaaaaar, they’re
all being mean to me!” Joseph chuckled.
Jotaro was impressed by how much Kakyoin had opened up to them in the past
week. It wasn’t as if he was a different person - he was still bright, mild
mannered, slightly shy - but he had a bit of a harder edge to him, a sardonic
sense of humor and a stubborn streak that made the Joestars look like
pushovers. He was beginning to realize that the polite standoffishness he’d
exhibited when they’d first met was partly habit and partly a tactical move:
stay far away and survey the situation, strike when he found an opening. He was
a long-range stand user, after all.
“Damnit,” growled the Old Man from the driver’s seat, “I said ‘English only’ in
the car. And Jotaro,” he glanced at his grandson in the rearview mirror, “don’t
do the cigarette trick while I’m driving. I want to see it again.”
===============================================================================
They had split up, Polnareff had gone off on his own with an idiot’s idea of
nobility and they needed to find him up before he got himself killed. Jotaro
was peering down a shabby alleyway when he heard a gunshot.
“Shit,” said his grandfather in a tone of voice that made Jotaro’s stomach
drop. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. “No one else heard that.” It was
true, the crowd around them was entirely unperturbed. “It’s a Stand user.”
Jotaro wasn’t used to this, the Old Man he knew was goofy and lazy and rarely
displayed this kind of competence. But he’d have to be sharp to have survived
all he’d been through, if his stories about his youth were accurate.
They ran off in the direction of the sound and there was Avdol, lying in the
street in a pool of blood that radiated out from his skull like an oil slick.
Kakyoin and Polnareff were nowhere to be seen. Jotaro got there first and
checked his pulse - faint, but still pumping. “He’s alive,” he reported and
Joseph nodded.
“Stay with him, I’ll find a doctor. Be alert.”
Jotaro continued kneeling by the dying man’s head and brought out Star
Platinum, standing back to back with him, ready to fight. No one suspicious,
not that he could tell. No indication even that anyone had noticed what was
going on. Where were the others? His heart was pounding and he found that he
was surprisingly furious, restless, ready to throw down at any provocation.
Avdol coughed, his breathing growing shallower. I didn’t think any of us would
actually die, Jotaro thought.
===============================================================================
Every night, he and Kakyoin would crash into each other as soon as they were
alone. They would frantically get each other off, releasing the tension that
had built up over a day of sheer boredom, punctuated by the occasional rush of
adrenaline and fear. Afterwards, they had time to spend exploring each other’s
bodies, finding out what each of them were driven wild by or what they found to
be turnoffs. This was new territory for the both of them, a self-education as
much as a sexual relationship.
They never talked about what was happening, except to say “move down” or “use
your mouth” or “more”. They never talked about the future, either, what would
happen when they got back to Japan; as far as Jotaro was concerned, there was
currently no future, there was the straight path towards Dio and an execution
at the end, and that was all he needed to focus on for the moment.
And he never talked about the Fear that had begun to build since Avdol’s near-
death experience. He was constantly on alert, aware that any person, animal, or
even object could be a Stand, that any of them could be in danger at any time.
It was his responsibility to protect them all, it was his mother who was dying
and his ancestor’s body being defiled, and his responsibility to fix things.
The Old Man was past his prime and the rest of them were just along for the
ride. He couldn’t be weak. He couldn’t flinch. He needed to kill Dio, and keep
them all safe in the process.
He was smoking more, several packs a day. He found it difficult to sleep; he’d
wake up just before sunrise, too wound up to stay in bed, and pace around the
room with a cigarette or two. And when he climbed back in, Kakyoin would stir,
half awake, and throw an arm around him, and he’d feel momentarily calm and
drift back into unconsciousness.
Some nights, they’d just hold each other.
===============================================================================
They were facing another stand user, trying to figure out his attack, when
suddenly, Kakyoin was down. He was in shock, lying on the ground, his blood
splattered across the sand, and everything around Jotaro went hazy. Fucking
kill him, find the stand user and beat him to a pulp. Get the fucker and make
him pay for what he did. Focus on finding him and kill him. Get him to vomit up
all he knows about Dio, fucking punch him until he’s dead.
As it turned out, N’Doul took care of himself, and they were able to get
Kakyoin to a hospital in Aswan. Amazingly, he was going to be okay, with maybe
some minor scarring. Even more amazingly, he was to stay there until he was
healed. He was out of the game. He’d be safe.
Jotaro’s insomnia got worse. He shared a room with his grandfather now, and
would sleep for three or four hours and then be wide awake. Not wanting to
betray any weakness to the Old Man, he’d instead leave the hotel and walk
around the dark city streets, knowing he was in danger of attack and secretly
hoping it would happen. Either he would fight and work off some of the tension
and anger, or he’d be taken down himself and could finally get some rest.
But nothing happened. He was left by himself, alone in the dark, with the
realization that he missed Kakyoin. Not just the physical side of things,
Kakyoin sweating and gasping in his arms, thrusting wildly against him or
bringing him over the edge. He wanted Kakyoin’s quiet presence nearby, That
reassurance that they were all okay, the warm body fitted against his in a way
that felt designed. His general feeling that something wasn’t quite right in
his life sharpened into the mourning for something that was missing, for a
piece of him he’d never known about being suddenly taken away.
It was an unexpected feeling, to say the least. And it was buffeted around in
his general overarching state of hyper-alertness, the stabs of guilt and worry
and the Fear that something terrible was about to happen. He had to stay
strong, but how was he supposed to without Kakyoin? How had he made it through
life this far?
===============================================================================
They finally fought their way to Cairo, and he was ready to murder that fucker
Dio, and suddenly, Kakyoin showed up. Out of nowhere, without telling them. He
was fine where he was, and now - Jotaro had wanted him back, but in the
abstract, not here directly in the line of fire. He couldn’t believe the others
were so happy to see him, didn’t they know that he was in danger now? He took
Kakyoin’s hand and smiled, but in his head could only say you asshole, you’re
going to get fucking killed.
And after that, everything was moving too quickly. They were inside the
mansion, then they were somewhere else, he couldn’t even play a fucking video
game. Avdol was down, Iggy was down, they were dead and Polnareff wasn’t
looking too well. Nothing made sense, they fled outside but it was nighttime
and they’d lost the protection of the sun.
They shouldn’t have split up that way. He should have gone with Kakyoin, but
then the Old Man would be unprotected, and Polnareff was in no shape to fight.
It had to be that way, but it wasn’t good enough. Kakyoin was down. His
grandfather was down, bleeding out in front of him. Fucking kill Dio. Slaughter
him.
It took forever, and yet was over in a minute. Police and ambulances were there
a few minutes later, and he was shuffled off with Joseph, Joseph’s body, huge
and still under the sheet, even though he felt fine, his heart was racing, he
just needed a minute to catch his breath and think about how Avdol was dead,
Iggy was dead, his grandfather was dead. Kakyoin was dead. It was over. Kakyoin
died.
No, there was still more he could do, he could at least return the Joestar
blood to its rightful owner, and hell, why not try to start the Old Man’s heart
again. Anything was worth a try at this point. And fuck, it worked, he could
reunite his family, his mom was going to be fine and they could have dinner
together and laugh about how it all turned out okay in the end.
Except.
Hey, said the insistent voice in his head, Kakyoin’s dead.
He’s dead. It’s over.
Jotaro raised a cigarette to his lips with a shaking hand and was informed very
curtly that sir, this is an ambulance. He stuffed it back into the pack and
stood there, swaying as the vehicle turned and stopped and started again,
unsure what to do next. Kakyoin’s dead. What now. His chest felt like it did
when he’d stopped his own heart just half an hour before, the world was hazy at
the edges again. Kakyoin’s dead. He’s dead.
And then he heard a crackle over one of the EMT’s transceivers, and a voice
saying, “We have a pulse on Noriaki,” and Jotaro thought, in his haze of
exhaustion, who the hell is Noriaki?
Oh right. He’s Kakyoin. Kakyoin’s not dead. And there was a sudden burst of
chatter, “all available surgeons rendezvous,” “oxygen,” “intubation,” “need
backup.” And he let the sound fade into the background, because now it was
really going to be okay. Kakyoin was alive and everything was going to be fine.
Except, of course, it wasn’t.
***** Fear *****
Kakyoin was in a coma for nearly a year. As soon as he was stabilized in Cairo,
he was airlifted to the Speedwagon Foundation Research Hospital in New York
City, and once life had calmed down a little bit, Jotaro flew out to visit him.
He lay there on the bed, pale and thin. There was a machine that breathed for
him, one that fed basic nutritive fluid directly into his circulatory system,
several that attached to his skin or led under the sheet to his abdomen that
Jotaro had no idea as to their purpose. The room was full of whirs and clicks
and beeps that echoed off the plain walls, but at the same time, everything was
too quiet. Tomblike.
Jotaro focused on one of Kakyoin’s hands, the long fingers, the IV line leading
out. He thought about the feeling of that hand on his face, on his back, moving
up his thigh. How it felt curled in his one night in the desert, as they sat
together behind a rock, watching the stars. Kissing it. He had the sudden
perverse thought that his mouth had been on every inch of that body, and the
word “body” bounced around in his head and connected to “tomb” and he felt a
little faint.
He looks like a corpse.
He must have looked a little pale himself because his grandfather gently led
him from the room and had him sit down in the lounge up the hall. “Sorry,
shoulda warned you,” said Joseph, handing Jotaro a Coke from the vending
machine, “he looks a little grim.” Jotaro let his gaze fall on a tank of
zebrafish in the wall across the room while Joseph explained that the doctors
were actually fairly optimistic, that as soon as organs became available,
they’d start the transplant process, work on rebuilding his spine, figure out a
skin graft process for the gap where his torso used to be. He would be
completely paralyzed below the wound, but other than that, the prognosis was
good.
Jotaro sat there in silence after the old man finished. “Er, listen,” Joseph
started again, “it’s best to talk about things, if there’s-”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Jotaro cut him off. How could it possibly
help?
Back home, life, remarkably, went on. Jotaro allowed his mother to baby him, as
if he’d been the one with a death sentence, and he returned to school. He found
that throwing himself into his studies gave him a set goal to work towards and
distracted him from the lurking fear that never really went away, that
sometimes rose up at unexpected moments and choked him. Graduation eventually
came, and he surprised everyone by being accepted to a prestigious biology
program.
It was a welcome distraction. His classes were rigorous and required him to
spend a lot of time in the library or the lab, where he didn’t run across women
walking Boston terriers, or happy couples enjoying sidewalk cafes after dark.
He wasn’t ambushed by sudden alertness and rage, though the Fear found a home
in the back of his throat and lingered there.
He tried not to think about how the happiest times in his life had been spent
in dingy hotel rooms that smelled like sex and sweat and old linen, wrapped
around another boy and feeling the warmth of skin on skin. If he dwelt on it
too much, the Fear rose up.
The first time he ever dove, in his Intermediate Marine Biology class his
sophomore year, he felt overwhelmed by the feeling of weightlessness and peace.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and felt the cold ocean water gently pushing
him along, and for a brief moment, everything was all right. In the ocean, he
was small and unimportant, a piece of driftwood suspended under the waves.
Around then, he received the news that Kakyoin was moving back to Japan. He’d
been conscious for a while at that point, and Jotaro had been back to visit him
a couple of times, though his progress seemed slow and if there was a single
word to describe him, it would be “breakable”. But after months of intensive
rehab and a battery of medical tests, the doctors had cleared him for semi-
independent living, and he was eager to return home and look into starting
college.
The Speedwagon Foundation found a building with good handicapped accessible
apartments about a forty five minute train ride from the university Jotaro was
attending, and lined up an aide to visit daily, a doctor, a physical therapist.
Jotaro expected himself to feel more excited than he did, but his overarching
feeling was one of anxiety. It had been two years since Egypt, and during that
time, the image in his mind of the boy he couldn’t keep his hands off had been
replaced by the wan face on the pillow, the tired man who greeted him happily
when he came to visit but who quickly ran out of energy to even talk.
And as Jotaro feared, Kakyoin’s return was tumultuous. He had his good days,
when he was nearly his old self - studying diligently for entrance exams,
enjoying old cowboy movies with Jotaro. He more often had bad days, when he was
in a lot of pain and dealing with the side effects of the cocktail of
immunosuppressants that prevented transplant rejection, when he’d lash out at
people and sulk around the apartment. On one such day, Jotaro arrived outside
his door to hear an argument between him and the physical therapist - “I don’t
need this bullshit any more, I can just use Hierophant for everything anyway.”
“You can’t use your stand when you’re out in public.” “Then I won’t fucking go
out in public, there’s no reason to.” Jotaro turned around without knocking and
went back to his dorm. Killing Dio had been easy, but this situation was far
too challenging, there was nothing he could do here.
(Nothing he should do. He’d fucked it up before, he wasn’t about to get Kakyoin
hurt again.)
On his worst days, he’d refuse to talk to anyone and would only interact with
Hierophant Green, in a disturbing reflection of what he must have been like as
a very small child.
Early on, when Kakyoin was still getting acclimated to the apartment, the aide
was called away on a family emergency and Jotaro helped out with his evening
bath. The bathroom was Japanese-style, the kind Joesph called “bullshit” and “a
waste”, where the bather washed and rinsed on a stool beforehand and then
soaked in the actual tub. He helped Kakyoin undress and a weird sense memory
hit him, of enthusiastically yanking off his pants in a hotel somewhere in
Pakistan. But this wasn’t nearly the same. He was still far too thin, and his
abdomen was a mass of scar tissue, and the person who owned the body was sullen
and quiet.
Jotaro scrubbed the body parts Kakyoin couldn’t reach - he was still working on
mobility in general - and rinsed him off with the handheld showerhead, then
lifted him gently into the bath. Kakyoin still said nothing and stared at the
tiled wall. After five minutes, he mumbled, “This is humiliating,” and then was
silent for the rest of the night.
Even on the good days, he’d still tire out easily. He’d often fall asleep on
the couch or in the wheelchair, and Jotaro would put him to bed and head home.
One such night, he lifted Kakyoin up, turned off the movie they were in the
middle of, and laid him down, and then crawled into bed next to him and lay
there for an hour, trying to recapture the feeling of joy and serenity he’d had
those many nights together on their journey.
He felt only the Fear.
Jotaro tried to visit when he could, but classes were demanding, and Kakyoin
wasn’t always up for socializing.That winter, he spent a month on a research
vessel in the Pacific and came back to find Kakyoin with a cold he couldn’t
shake - because of the immunosuppressants, he caught everything that was going
around - and in a perpetually bad mood. And then one day, Jotaro arrived after
classes were over to find the Speedwagon Foundation cleaning out the apartment
and Kakyoin nowhere in sight, and he felt his legs give out under him and sat
down in the middle of the hall. The aide came towards him with a look of
concern.
===============================================================================
“Kakyoin’s back in the hospital.”
“Shit.” Polnareff’s voice was tinny over the long distance connection. “What
happened?”
“They don’t know. Organ failure, probably. Anyway, he’ll be in New York again
for a while.”
“Damn, I’ll have to go visit him. Hey, uh,” Jotaro recognized the “introducing
a difficult subject” tone of voice, “how are things going with you two?”
“Fine, I guess.”
“I mean, I don’t know anything about how gay life works in Japan, but-”
“Hold on, what?” said Jotaro. “I’m not gay.”
He held the phone away from his ear while Polnareff laughed uncontrollably.
“No, really, Jojo.”
“Really, I’m not.”
“You’re actually - you’re serious? Then, I can’t believe I’m the one telling
you this, but - you are.”
“I’d think I’d know.”
“I’d think you would, too, but despite all the evidence, you apparently don’t.”
Talking with Polnareff was often like kickboxing a butterfly, surprisingly
difficult and unpredictable. Jotaro sighed. “What evidence?”
“One,” he could practically hear Polnareff holding up his fingers, “everybody
can tell that you’re gay. Two, I have literally never heard you mention a woman
that you aren’t directly related to. Three, you are very obviously romantically
and sexually attracted to men, and Four, no one goes at it the way you two used
to without being actually extremely gay. Case closed.”
How the hell did he know-? “All right,” he admitted, “we used to fool around,
but lots of straight guys do that.”
“Yeah, straight guys jerk off together in the locker room, they don’t… jump
each other as soon as they think nobody can hear them.” Jotaro was dumbstruck.
“Hotel walls are thin, Jojo.” If Polnareff knew, does that mean that Avdol did,
too? His grandfather? Oh hell. “Like, I don’t know what he was doing to you in
Karachi, but it sounded amazing.”
“We were just blowing off steam,” said Jotaro, scrabbling for a conversational
foothold. “I’m actually straight.” His life was stable now, if he was gay, he’d
have to do something about it, and. He couldn’t. Everything was scheduled and
planned, no surprises, nothing out of the ordinary.
“There’s nothing wrong with being gay!” laughed Polnareff. “I have plenty of
gay friends, and you are gayer than all of them put together. Seriously,
though,” his tone became more gentle, “it’s not just… whatever you two got up
to. It’s the way you looked at each other. Like there was no one else in the
world.” Jotaro tried to digest this. “Hey, hold on a minute,” Polnareff said,
then had a muffled French conversation with someone who had apparently just
walked into the room.
Jotaro tried to pry open his memories of the Egypt trip, how he’d felt and what
he and Kakyoin had done. The Fear loomed up and he decided that all of that was
best left in the past, that whatever was there was a chapter that was finished
and it was best not to dwell on it. Everything was different now - it was sane,
safe, and predictable.
“Sorry, I’ve gotta go,” Polnareff broke in. “Listen, I’ll call you later, and
please, Jojo, just try to figure yourself out.”
They hung up. Polnareff’s an idiot, thought Jotaro, I’m not gay, I’m normal.
And then the intrusive train of thought of his self-doubt interrupted:
You’re not normal. You’re a hairy half-Westerner who’s a head taller than
everyone he meets.
So, who the hell cares about that?
You’re followed around by an angry ghost that can stop time. You killed a
vampire when you were in high school. You saw an entire city street stained
with gore in the aftermath. You helped clear out a mansion that was full of
corpses, male and female, all drained of blood. You found your friend’s arms,
and nothing else. You saw a pile of fur and viscera that used to be a little
dog. Kakyoin’s dead. You watched your grandfather bleed to death in front of
you. Kakyoin’s dead.
He’s not dead, the Old Man just saw him.
But he could be, any minute now.
Jotaro went out and bought his first pack of cigarettes in over two years, and
smoked half of it on the way home.
===============================================================================
The insomnia returned, not as bad as before, but still a constant presence in
his life. This time, he mostly used it to catch up on reading for class,
catching an extra hour of sleep at his desk, his head resting on a pile of
highlighted printouts. One night, he actually accepted an invitation to a
student mixer, got slightly tipsy, and allowed a pretty exchange student to
lead him back to her dorm room, where he fumbled his way through heterosexual
sex. They were both disappointed with the encounter and he was grateful that he
didn’t see her much after that.
But he was definitely normal, no one’s first time is great, right? He was most
certainly a normal college student, he thought while riding the train down to
the nightlife district, specifically the area known as the gay neighborhood, he
wasn’t gay at all and this would prove it. He picked a bar at random, ordered a
beer, and sat there, unsure as to what to do next.
“Hey, tall boy,” said a handsome older man at his elbow. “You’re new, I’d
remember you. There’s a hotel just around the corner.”
An hour later, slipping back into his pants, Jotaro thought shit, Polnareff’s
right.
You’re a head taller than everyone you meet. You’re a hairy half-Westerner and
you’re gay. You still call Kakyoin your “best friend” even though you’ve barely
seen him in the past three years.
You might be in love with him.
Is he even coming back this time?
A water tower silhouetted against the city glow. The street covered in blood. A
thin body fed by a thousand machines.
He didn’t have time to think about all this, he had a major lab project to work
on and his other classes were nearly as demanding, plus finals were only a
month away. He threw himself wholeheartedly into his studies, even spending
extra time tutoring freshmen in the introductory class and attending whatever
special lectures came along. He volunteered for one of the professors,
overseeing the lab classroom and making sure all the test tubes were cleaned
and returned to their cabinet, the scales and microscopes were properly
calibrated, the blackboard was cleaned at the end of the day. He was mounting
slides for the next day’s lesson when the exchange student came in looking for
him with a look of worry and anger.
===============================================================================
“So I asked him, and he said he’s ‘gay but nonpracticing’, which I’m not even
sure what that means but it’s the most Kakyoin answer I could imagine. He also
said he hasn’t heard from you in a little while, you should call him.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“What the hell could you possibly be up to that you can’t make a simple
phonecall? I've got my own life, but I still make time to call you two idiots,
it's what you do when you care about someone.”
What to say? Kakyoin was the last person he wanted to talk to about this.
“I got a girl pregnant and we’re getting married.”
“... God damnit, Jojo.”
===============================================================================
They moved into married students’ housing, which was little better than the
dorms but had enough room for the baby, a solid, square-faced little girl with
a star-shaped birthmark on her shoulder and a surprisingly strong grip. They
named her Jolyne. “Look at her,” crowed Joseph, “you’ve got the same serious
face, that’s definitely your kid… hold on, lemme take a picture… Jotaro, stop
smiling, you’re ruining it.” Jotaro loved her instantly.
Not so his wife. It was immediately clear that they had little in common, and
she was understandably upset at being married to a man who was obviously not
attracted to her and who furthermore had decided to continue on in the PhD
program while she took a leave of absence to take care of the baby. They fought
constantly, and Jotaro took any opportunity he could to go out on long term
field placements or to investigate for the Speedwagon Foundation. He wanted to
talk to Kakyoin about this, wanted the peace and reassurance that being with
him had brought. But he’d crossed a line again. He’d chosen his life, created
another life, and he couldn’t back down from his responsibilities.
Sometime in the midst of all this, he heard from Polnareff that Kakyoin had
moved back, and went out one day to visit him. He was doing surprisingly well
and was in good spirits, congratulated Jotaro on his new family and showed him
how an experimental treatment had restored some movement in his left leg. He
was polite and slightly shy, and completely closed off from Jotaro like when
they had first met.
Over the next couple of years, he visited a few more times, to watch a sumo
match or to sleep on the couch when things were very bad at home. He was
Jotaro’s best friend, and they barely talked.
***** Bath *****
Kakyoin emerged from the bedroom in only his underwear, having shed his clothes
into the hamper and carefully laid out his pajamas. Not for the first time,
Jotaro suspected that his fastidiousness about the apartment was less about a
desire for cleanliness than a need to have control over something, even if it
was just the few rooms he rarely left. He limped to the bathroom, leaned the
crutches against the wall, and completely disrobed.
Jotaro reflexively averted his eyes out of politeness and then realized how
stupid he was being, it was nothing he hadn’t seen plenty of times before.
Kakyoin beckoned him in and as Jotaro approached, he was struck by how much
better he looked than the last time they’d done this - he was still thin, but
no longer fragile, the network of scars on his midsection was less vivid, his
skin was a healthier color. The way he carried himself was also different, he
sat on the stool with a casual confidence and with less of the obvious pain
he’d had years ago.
“Could you-” he said, miming the use of the handheld showerhead. Jotaro nodded
and took it down from the wall, turned on the water, and sprayed Kakyoin down.
He sat there, eyes closed and unmoving, and finally gave a thumbs up. Jotaro
turned the water back off.
“How’s school going?” Kakyoin asked casually, soaping up a washcloth and
beginning to scrub.
“Fine,” answered Jotaro, “I’ll be going to Hokkaido for six months for a field
placement at a marine research facility, mostly counting plankton. Then, I’ll
be back here for a while.” Kakyoin had finished washing his shoulders and
handed the cloth over to Jotaro, who took over scrubbing his back. There was an
angry pink scar from Kakyoin’s latest surgery that he tried to wash around, but
he accidentally swiped it as Kakyoin leaned forwards for the shampoo. Kakyoin
didn’t seem to notice, anyway.
“Your hair’s getting long,” he observed, watching Kakyoin work the lather in
through the strands.
“It’s a pain in the ass,” Kakyoin replied. “My barber retired and there’s no
one else around here who’s wheelchair accessible.”
“Ah.” Kakyoin mimed for the shower again and Jotaro turned the water back on.
“Head back,” he said, pushing gently on the other man’s forehead. Kakyoin
tilted his chin up and closed his eyes to the spray once more. Jotaro rinsed
off the soap and instinctively ran his fingers through the tangles. He wasn’t
thinking about what he was doing until Kakyoin laughed.
“You really are a dad,” he said.
“Sorry,” said Jotaro, pulling his hands back.
“No, it’s cute.”
Jotaro swallowed, not knowing how to respond. He decided on “You’re far better
behaved than Jolyne, anyway.” At this point in the process, she would be
squirming and whining on the stool, or making a lunge for the bath toys, or
running through the apartment completely nude, dripping everywhere and
shrieking at the top of her lungs. He suddenly missed her.
Kakyoin stood shakily and extended an arm towards Jotaro, who curled his own
arm around his torso and gently helped him into the tub. He sighed as he sank
into the warm water and settled himself into a comfortable position. Jotaro
stepped back and leaned against the wall, arms crossed, feeling suddenly
superfluous.
“What are you working on?” he finally asked, feeling that he should say
something.
“Translating appliance manuals. I thought I’d learn some interesting
vocabulary, but it turns out a lot of the names of components are English
loanwords in the first place.” He shrugged. “It pays well anyway. I’ll be set
for cash when the new Famicom console comes out.” Jotaro noticed that Kakyoin
had a sheepish but excited smile and couldn't help but smile himself; it was
good to see him enthusiastic about something, even if it was just video games.
Kakyoin swirled the water around with his hands. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s well,” answered Jotaro. “She’s supposed to wear glasses now, but she
keeps forgetting them.” His grandfather chided her for that, as if he wasn’t as
bad about that kind of thing. Which reminded Jotaro, “The old man’s coming to
visit in June, you should stop by.”
“I’ll be back in surgery then,” said Kakyoin. “Maybe some other time.”
“How’s that going, anyway?”
“It’s a mixed bag.” A slightly awkward silence. “The procedure behind it is
kind of interesting though,” he continued, “they’ve been working on regrowing
the nerves with a process based on the regeneration of starfish limbs.”
“Oh yeah?” said Jotaro, “My advisor specializes in starfish.”
“Ah, I’ll send you some citations. I’m in one of the papers, heavily
anonymized, of course. Do you have email?”
“Yeah, through school. Remind me to write down my address when you’re out.”
Kakyoin rolled his eyes. “Write it down now, I won’t drown.”
Chagrined, Jotaro left the bathroom and scribbled his email on the pad of paper
by the computer. He returned and stood in the door for a moment, taking a
thoughtful look at Kakyoin. He was fully relaxed in the tub, almost serene. His
hair was already starting to dry, taking on a slight wave, and it just touched
his shoulders, which, Jotaro appreciatively noticed, were actually fairly
sculpted and muscular. They’d have to be, he thought, if he’s constantly
lifting himself up. Kakyoin realized Jotaro had come back and turned and smiled
at him and oh no, not now.
He felt the familiar stirrings of arousal in his groin and frantically tried to
think of something else - taxonomy of sea slugs, baseball statistics, his
elementary school principal. This wasn’t the time or place, whatever had
happened between them was over. “You’re looking good,” his mouth said, without
consulting with the rest of him. Shit.
“Thanks,” said Kakyoin, slightly shy again. Then, a little more boldly, “I hope
so, this is millions of dollars worth of research.” He gestured vaguely towards
his body and Jotaro snorted, glad for the break in the sudden tension between
them. But then he glanced down into the water at Kakyoin’s torso and then lower
to the flaccid cock resting between his thighs and quickly shifted his gaze to
his own feet. Cold showers, he thought, listening to the bath water draining.
Algebraic transformations. The blood was rushing away from his head.
“Help me out?” Jotaro shuffled over, trying to keep his gaze towards the
ceiling, and offered his arm. Kakyoin stood and leaned fully against him, his
breath on Jotaro’s neck, and Jotaro carefully lifted him out, and his skin was
warm and damp and Jotaro could feel his heart beating against his own chest,
and he twisted his hips away, trying to hide his growing erection. He helped
Kakyoin back to the stool and handed him a towel. For a moment, he thought that
Kakyoin’s breath sounded heavier, that his skin looked a little flushed, but -
it was fairly obvious that he wasn’t aroused. You’re imagining things. This is
just a bath.
“Can you get my feet?” said a slightly drier Kakyoin, offering the towel back.
“Be careful for the right-ow!” He grabbed Jotaro’s arm as Jotaro jerked his
hand away from Kakyoin’s right foot.
“Sorry,” Jotaro mumbled.
“It’s all right,” winced Kakyoin, “something’s just wired wrong. I was supposed
to get back mobility, but mostly it just hurts all the time.” Jotaro nodded and
dabbed at the foot as gently as he could. He started moving up the leg, drying
as he went.
“How’s your right knee?”
“Not as bad.” He swung his lower leg slightly. “The physical therapy’s been
hell, though.” Jotaro dried it off, cognizant that Kakyoin’s hand was still
gripping his arm. He draped the towel over Kakyoin’s leg and decided to take a
chance.
“How’s…” he moved his hand up slowly and let it hover slightly above Kakyoin’s
crotch. Kakyoin’s hand tightened.
“... Different.” They waited, breathing almost in synch.
“What’s that physical therapy consist of?”
Kakyoin burst out laughing. “Perv.” Tension broken again, and then he quickly
blurted out, “I need direct stimulation to get it up now,” and looked off to
the side, blushing.
“Ah,” said Jotaro, and he felt a gentle pressure from the hand on his arm, an
invitation. He slowly closed his fingers around Kakyoin’s cock.
Feeling the flesh thicken under his palm, he was struck by what a brilliant
piece of strategy the whole evening was - Kakyoin putting himself in a
vulnerable position, waiting for a chance but with plausible deniability in
case things didn’t work out. Kind of a passive seduction, from afar. He always
did wait from a distance, plotting everything exactly before striking.
Kakyoin moaned and pressed the side of his head against Jotaro’s chest, and
Jotaro brought his other hand up and cradled his cheek. The dick in his hand
was hard, and his own was throbbing, brushing lightly against Kakyoin’s side as
the other man breathed more and more heavily. He tilted his head up in Jotaro’s
grasp and they leaned towards each other and kissed.
It was like coming home. A warm feeling spread down Jotaro’s spine and he
pulled Kakyoin closer, tightened his grip and moved his hand a little faster.
Kakyoin put his hand on the back of Jotaro’s head and ravenously thrust his
tongue into his mouth.They twisted against each other, the years dropping away,
their bodies remembering what to do. Kakyoin began pushing up against Jotaro’s
hand, making small desperate noises, he was warm and alive and responding more
to every stroke. He broke the kiss and cried out, eyes squeezed shut, and came
in warm jets across his stomach and Jotaro’s hand.
Kakyoin rested his forehead against Jotaro’s chest, panting. Jotaro gave his
cock a few more slow tugs, feeling it spasm in his hand, then reached down to
the towel and cleaned them both off. His own dick was straining against his
pants, feeling impossibly hard, and he shifted uncomfortably. He felt Kakyoin’s
forehead slide down slightly as he fixed his gaze and then felt his hand
stroking his hardon through his pants. “Let’s go lie down,” he whispered.
Jotaro eagerly strode out of the bathroom, remembered, turned back and handed
Kakyoin his crutches. Kakyoin scowled slightly and permitted “Damnit, just
carry me,” but laughed when Jotaro scooped him up and nipped at his neck. He
carried Kakyoin to the bedroom, softly placed him on the mattress, and stripped
off his half-damp shirt, feeling Kakyoin’s hands undoing his belt and fly. He
peeled off his pants, his cock bouncing out eagerly, and crawled into bed.
“Move up,” Kakyoin ordered, pushing on his ass. He shimmied towards the
headboard until he was half curled around Kakyoin’s head, his erection
tantalizingly close to that incredible mouth. “You’re so hard,” said Kakyoin
admiringly.
“I want you,” he hissed, and a sound like a whimper escaped his throat as
Kakyoin wrapped his lips around his cock and drew him in.
He’d forgotten exactly how gifted Kakyoin was with his tongue. While he bobbed
his head up and down, his tongue moved over Jotaro’s shaft, around the
underside of the head and then over the top. Combined with the warmth and
wetness and gentle suction of his mouth, the sensations were incredible. It was
all he could do to hold himself back from thrusting in hard, getting as deep in
as he could.
Instead, he lay there, enjoying the overwhelming pleasure, the feeling that
everything was wonderful again. Kakyoin began to move his head more quickly and
he found himself almost involuntarily pumping into him, savoring the way his
wet lips dragged along the length of his dick. He felt a delicious pressure
start to build in his balls, gasped out, “I’m gonna-,” felt Kakyoin inhale him
even deeper, and pumped a few more times and came hard against the back of
Kakyoin’s throat.
Jotaro felt Kakyoin swallow around his dick, shuddered in post-orgasmic
pleasure, and pulled out. He slid back down the mattress so they were face to
face once again, put his arm around Kakyoin’s waist, and lay there, catching
his breath.
“Hi.”
He looked up to see those gorgeous eyes, that wide, smiling mouth.
“Hey.”
***** Stay *****
“You’re still amazing at that,” said Jotaro, idly tracing circles with his
finger on Kakyoin’s back.
“You’re still incredibly hot,” smiled Kakyoin. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” admitted Jotaro, as much to himself as to the other man.
“Uh… do you still want me to leave tonight?”
“Of course not,” Kakyoin reached up and tangled his fingers in Jotaro’s hair.
“I never do.”
“Hm?”
“I mean…” He got that far away thoughtful look for a moment, moved his hand to
Jotaro’s shoulder, and continued, “I thought about you a lot, in New York, but
when I got back, it… seemed pretty obvious you weren’t interested any more.”
“Sorry,” mumbled Jotaro. “I kind of had a lot of things to work out.”
“Okay.” Kakyoin’s mouth was a straight line across his face. “Anyway, I tried
to move on, but, just, every time you showed up you’d knock me on my ass again.
And I never knew when you were going to show up.” His voice had taken on a tone
of hurt.
“Sorry.”
“I even tried dating, but it turns out I have no idea how to meet guys, and I’m
invisible in the wheelchair any way.”
“Sorry…”
“I don’t want your pity,” he snapped. “I just want you back in my life. It’s
like you disappeared.”
Jotaro suddenly felt defensive. Everything had been going so well a moment ago,
how did they get here? “You moved back here without even telling me,” he
countered.
“You got married without even telling me,” said Kakyoin, angrier now. “I had to
hear it from your grandfather.” He took his hand back and crossed his arms over
the mass of scars. “He showed me Jolyne’s baby pictures, that fucking hurt.”
This was not going well at all. Everything was spiraling out of Jotaro’s
control. He reached in his pocket for his cigarettes and remembered he wasn’t
wearing anything. “That whole time was really hard for me,” he started.
“You were out literally fucking around while I was getting carved up again. And
then you couldn’t even tell me-”
“I was scared.” It slipped out of his mouth and Kakyoin looked at him in
surprise. “I thought I had things figured out, and then I fucked up, and I
couldn’t sleep and had so much work to do.”
“How were you scared?” He was still angry, but his voice had a note of caution.
Jotaro tried to explain the fear, but he couldn’t seem to line up his thoughts.
Everything was fuzzy around the edges and he wasn’t sure what he was saying out
loud and what he was thinking. “I thought you might not come back from the
hospital that time.” I didn’t want to pick you up because I thought I’d break
you. Every time I thought I had things under control, I fucked something up and
people got hurt. I ruined someone’s life so I thought I’d marry her and that
just made things worse. I couldn’t take down Dio fast enough and “there was a
whole street full of blood, people’s arms and legs,” and they died because I
fucked it up.
“Jotaro,” said Kakyoin quietly, “you’re not making sense.”
All those people died in the street because I fucked it up and Avdol and Iggy
died because I fucked things up, I couldn’t escape D’Arby quickly enough and I
found Avdol’s arms lying on the floor, someone brought me an armful of gore and
it was Iggy, Grandpa died, and… you died. You died and I couldn’t even do
anything about it.
“You died,” he finally rasped, through a throat that was suddenly sore. He
coughed, and the cough turned into a sob, and he was crying for the first time
since he was seven. The tears burned and he shut his eyes and curled in on
himself, ashamed but unable to stop. His grandfather was wrong, talking about
it just made everything even more horrible.
He felt an arm gently placed around his shoulders, a chin resting lightly on
the top of his head. The fear loosened its grip on his throat and he sobbed
more quietly, until the tears finally ran out.
“I’m here now.”
He looked up at Kakyoin through bleary eyes.
“And I’m glad you’re here,” Kakyoin continued, “And... I thought you were the
only one who made it out unhurt, but… how long has this been going on?”
“I don’t know,” said Jotaro truthfully. The Fear had been there for so long,
the times it got overwhelming? All he had were holes in his memory Times when
sound faded away and he fell back inside himself and then there was nothing. He
reached his trembling arms around Kakyoin and they lay there for a while,
breathing.
“I want to stay with you,” Jotaro said, finally.
“I know, I said I’m not kicking you out tonight.”
“No,” he shifted up, pressed his lips to Kakyoin’s forehead, “I mean, when I
get back from Hokkaido. I want to try things with you again.”
“I’d like that.” Silence. Carefully, “What happens with Jolyne if you do?”
Jotaro sighed. “I’m losing custody anyway. They might move to the U.S., to be
near my in-laws.” Kakyoin hugged him. “I love that kid, more than anything,
but… tonight’s the first time in a while things’ve felt right. I want to try to
make things work and not fuck it up this time.”
Now it was Kakyoin’s turn to sigh. “You didn’t - you know, you don’t have to be
responsible for everything.”
“Neither do you.”
He shrugged. “Touché.”
The French reminded him. “Hmph, Polnareff’s gonna flip out about this.”
Kakyoin laughed. “He told me to just jump you the next time you showed up.”
Jotaro rolled his eyes. “I told him,” more laughter, “I said, ‘fuck off, I
can’t jump any more.”
Jotaro laughed out loud for the first time in years.
***** Epilogue *****
Chapter Notes
     I meant to add this to the Fluff collection, but it get far too long
     and adult oriented, so here it is over here
Jotaro Kujo gave Noriaki Kakyoin his body back three times.
The first time, well… to begin with:
Noriaki always knew that he was Different. Even when he was in preschool,
playing with the other kids on the playground, he knew that their imaginary
friends were just that: imaginary. The ogre that followed him around, that he
called Green, was different from Doraemon or the generic masked hero or any of
the other beings that allegedly accompanied the other kids; Green was like
nothing he could have come up with himself, and what’s more, it could actually
affect the world around him. He was an unconventionally mature and thoughtful
child, but the other kids didn’t understand that side of him either, and as
they got a little older, he was faced with the girls running away and giggling,
the boys yelling “Nori-kun’s a weirdo!” from the other side of the playground.
He learned early on to be quiet about this other piece of himself, the strange
creature that made his world feel three dimensional and hyper-real. He knew
what was true, but was forever on guard that he’d let something slip, let the
others know how strange he was and how much he deserved their contempt. He
didn’t need them, anyway - Green was as good a friend as any kid could ask for.
He’d boost Noriaki into trees (“How does he keep getting up there?” his mother
would say), read books with him, and simply act as a warning for anyone who’d
invade Noriaki’s precious personal space. They were more than inseparable.
Around middle school, he began to feel removed from his peers once again. He
enjoyed playing soccer and was decently good at it, wasn’t picked first or
second or even third, but was known as a reliable contributor to whatever
pickup team was formed in the schoolyard, and eventually joined soccer club
after school. After he pulled off one particularly good kick, the team captain,
Tanaka-senpai, gave him a high five, and he suddenly felt hot, his stomach
churning, his groin feeling strange and tingly. It took until a vivid dream of
kissing and clumsy fondling, from which he awoke with damp sheets, that he
realized he had his first real crush. His feelings burned for three months,
after which he transferred his affections to Morimoto-kun, a sensitive and
artistic boy in his homeroom.
So he was gay. Really gay, it turns out. Both his waking life and the world in
his dreams were saturated with thoughts of men’s bodies, being kissed and
touched and kissing and touching and generally getting weak in the knees over
broad shoulders and a strong jawline. And he knew, because he was Different and
Weird, that he’d never be able to satisfy these urges, because how could he be
so bare and vulnerable in front of someone he liked if he couldn’t even make a
real friend? He resigned himself to fantasies, enjoying the rush of endorphins
when a new crush developed, thinking about how nice it would be to be loved and
caressed and trying to get used to the idea of the only hands bringing him to
orgasm being his own.
All this led up to the family vacation when he was seventeen. His parents chose
Egypt, for whatever reason, and after a long flight he found himself strangely
giddy and unable to sleep. He slipped out of the hotel room and went to explore
Cairo in the middle of the night, not feeling at all anxious about it. He had
the now renamed Hierophant Green to warn him of any muggers or other
miscreants, surrounding him in a meter-diameter web of tentacles. It was a
beautiful city, the ancient and the modern buildings propped up against one
another, the many cultures and peoples sharing the same space. Noriaki was
having a wonderful time, until he ran across Him.
He looked like a rock star. Incredibly tall, impossibly pale, dressed in
clothing that was both flowing and enticingly tight. His hair was tousled and
beautiful. He stood in a doorway, shrouded in shadow, arms crossed, and simply
extended one long finger and… touched Hierophant Green. Noriaki had never
before met someone who could see Hierophant, let alone feel him, and somehow,
this imposing man could do both.
“Where are you going, handsome boy?” he purred. Could see and feel Hierophant
and thought he was handsome, even as he towered over Noriaki with a smoldering
look and a dominating stance. He called Noriaki handsome, said he looked
strong, invited him to follow in his cool British accent. Noriaki knew in the
depths of his mind that it was a bad idea to go with him, but his body argued
elsewise. This was the chance he secretly dreamed of, to be with a hot guy who
found him attractive and who could see him for what he really was. He stumbled
along, through the winding alleyways and up the steps in a dark manor, to a
room past… what was it in the corners, it couldn’t be bodies, it was impossible
that there could be that many people stacked up, pale and unmoving. The evening
heat had been replaced by a still coldness; something primal inside of Noriaki
began a low scream and continued to urge him to run, but he kept following.
“What’s wrong?” taunted Dio, his name was Dio, “are you frightened?” He was,
how could it be otherwise? Everything was wrong, he’d made a mistake, he had to
leave but his feet were rooted in place. “Are you going to vomit in terror?”
Dio was toying with Noriaki like a cat with its prey; Noriaki’s heart was
slamming against his ribcage and his breath was coming in gasps. Please, just
let me leave, he pleaded wordlessly, I didn’t want this, I’m sorry. What he’d
thought would be wonderful was the most terrifying thing he’d never even hoped
to imagine, all he wanted at this point was release.
And he got it, with a simple, “Let’s be friends,” a resolution like an orgasm,
and suddenly, he felt a stinging in his skull and everything went black.
He became a marionette for a month and a half. It should have been easier for
Dio to order him to kill Jotaro Kujo, to walk across Honshu until he met the
boy and slaughtered him, but everything was unnecessarily drawn out. Dio didn’t
plan, he did whatever seemed reasonable at the time and, when circumstances
permitted, whatever was most cruel. Noriaki finished the family vacation,
marveling at the monuments and ancient artifacts, sampling Cairo’s cafe
culture, all the while screaming internally and flailing to be released from
Dio’s control. He coolly brought up the idea of school transfer to his parents,
who agreed that he could use more of a challenge, filled out all the paperwork,
underwent interviews with guidance counsellors while he was in agony
internally, his body moving through his life without his consent.
He didn’t want to kill the other boy, or anyone really, but had gotten to the
point where he’d allow anything if it gave him release. Kujo-san turned out to
be fairly powerful himself, though, and gave him a brief moment of respite
before he found himself fully awake, face cupped between two strong hands,
staring into the eyes of the boy who knelt over him with a serious countenance
and who was one of the most good-looking people Noriaki had ever seen.
===============================================================================
He immediately swallowed back his attraction. This whole ordeal had started
when he dared to think that somebody he was interested in could actually like
him back, and it was better to ignore his feelings, to continue living on the
margins without letting himself get too close to anybody. As the days unfolded,
though, their friendship came surprisingly easy, especially for two people who
didn’t have much in common on the surface. Noriaki realized that for once, he
didn’t feel paradoxically lonely when spending time with someone else, and the
only thing he wished was different was for Jotaro to not be so… handsy - he
always seemed to be touching Noriaki in some way, and even if his mind had
decided to give up on any possible relationship, his body didn’t agree.
One thing that especially fascinated him was the way the way Jotaro presented
himself. Noriaki had spent a lifetime carefully crafting a public persona (and
he was Noriaki only to himself and his parents, to everyone else, he was always
Kakyoin), and he recognized a similar strategy in the other boy. On the outside
was the swearing, smoking delinquent, who openly shotgunned beers and pretended
not to give a shit about anything or anyone around him. But Noriaki remembered
how gentle his hands had been as he removed the flesh bud, saw how his
shoulders relaxed and his jawline softened once they were out of the city,
heard the poorly-disguised passion in his voice when he talked about some
surprisingly scholarly pursuits - biology, mechanical engineering, twentieth
century history. He was essentially a kind and quiet boy disguised as an angry
and disaffected young man, for whatever private reasons he had for doing so.
Even after what almost happened on the ship, the kiss still took him by
surprise. It was something he had fantasized about but hadn’t ever thought
would happen, and when he leaned up and kissed Jotaro back it was as if his
fantasy self had taken over, dragging his body along for the ride. Which wasn’t
to say that he didn’t love it, the excruciating friction of their bodies
together, the increasingly desperate kisses, the slightly embarrassing feeling
of coming while still fully clothed. But he didn’t feel like he was a full
participant, that he was being rewarded for his lust, until they were in the
shower later, touching each other for the first time. Jotaro looking right at
him, knowing he was aroused and wanting to get him off, made him feel that his
body’s attraction towards men was not only okay, it was fucking fantastic.
Everything was fantastic, in fact. For the first time in his life, he finally
felt like himself, both inside and out. He didn’t have to monitor everything he
said, or keep from reflexively bringing forth Hierophant for mundane tasks like
reaching something on the top shelf. He had friends who believed in who he was,
he had Jotaro for whatever it was going on between them; he was still afraid to
give the latter a name or to talk about it out loud for fear he’d lose it like
he lost his public acknowledgement of Hierophant Green. But after two weeks, he
thought he might be in love, and after three weeks, he knew he was in love, and
later, there on the tower, as his life leaked out through the cold hole that
used to be his stomach, he felt nothing but gratitude for his journey, and
hoped that he was able to help everyone with his last message.
===============================================================================
He floated back to life through the darkness; a year was lost and he couldn’t
even lift his own hands, let alone leave the network of wires and tubes that
served as his surrogate body. Everything below his navel was gone. He could see
his legs, but they may as well have been completely unraveled; he couldn’t feel
a thing besides the cruel and mocking phantom pains in the parts that might as
well not even be there. The doctors wanted him to try and move every day and
every inch was torture, he was exhausted immediately and still, they wouldn’t
let him sleep as much as he wanted to.
Mr. Joestar came by often, brought him comic books and novels he might enjoy,
would read to him when he was too tired to focus, and helped him practice his
English. A few times, Polnareff showed up, his enthusiasm contagious. Even more
rarely, Jotaro, who sat there uncomfortably and tried to make small talk, which
he was terrible at. During one of the later visits, Noriaki felt the first
bizarre stirrings of being horny, but without the corresponding action between
his legs. It was confusing and somewhat embarrassing, especially when he felt
he should mention it to the doctors, who assured him that human sexuality was
complex, that sexual response was both physical and mental, et cetera, et
cetera. He suspected that he was about to become another footnote in a
scientific paper and refused to bring it up after that.
The months blended in to one another; he was able to sit upright in a
wheelchair and accomplish basic tasks like feeding himself and reading the
newspaper. He was eager to get back home and to live some kind of semblance of
a normal life, going to college as he’d always planned and maybe even picking
things back up with Jotaro, who he still fantasized about, albeit in a more
abstract fashion. He’d somehow turned nineteen during all the confusion, and
didn’t even need the support of his parents to move back; the Speedwagon
Foundation was footing the bill as a sort of thank you gift for helping take
down a megalomaniacal vampire and for being such a good lab rat for their
studies into the human nervous system. He bore no ill will towards his parents,
but also didn’t feel especially close to them; they’d come to visit a few times
and then, satisfied that he was in good hands, left him at the mercy of the SPW
doctors.
Moving back turned out to be overly ambitious. He was exhausted all the time
and everything hurt, he was lonely, but in the worst ways - roused by
dispassionate aides and the sadist of a physical therapist, left mostly alone
by the few friends he had. It would have been okay if they’d just let him stay
in his own world with Hierophant, let him live his life in as close to three
dimensions as he had left, but they wanted to destroy him further, make him
live without his Stand, take away the one thing that still gave him a shred of
independence.
He was angry, when he had the energy to be. Mostly, everything was pain, a haze
of agony where he couldn’t discern where his body actually started and ended,
where an endless stream of doctors and nurses and therapists entered his
apartment and examined him as if he was a training mannequin instead of a human
being, punctuated occasionally by Jotaro’s nervous face, swimming through the
confusion.
Several months later, he woke up once more. He was back in New York, a lot had
gone wrong but his mind was still too foggy to absorb all of the details. Mr.
Joestar began visiting regularly again, and after a few months, it was
increasingly clear that he was uncomfortable, hiding something. Finally, he
apologetically showed Noriaki the pictures of little Jolyne, one in which her
parents smiled down at her, and it was like being punched through all over
again.
Obviously, life had gone on without him over the past few years. Obviously,
everything that had gone on between him and Jotaro on the way to Egypt was a
passing phase for the latter, a stepping stone on the way to a normal
heterosexual adulthood. Obviously, he had moved on enough that it didn’t even
occur to him to call Noriaki, let him know about the new milestones in his
life, behave like it seemed like a friend should.
It was time for Noriaki to be moving on as well. This round of treatment was
going better than the first; he was still generally tired and in constant pain,
but daily life was getting more manageable. Polnareff came to visit for a week
and wheeled him around the city until they were both exhausted, and for a
little while, he felt like more of a person. The doctors were hopeful about a
new treatment - it would take several surgeries over several years, and a lot
of hard work on his part, and he would probably never regain full mobility, but
at the very least, they thought he should be able to stand and to walk a few
steps.
Life back in Japan was a series of revised expectations. He wouldn’t be able to
attend college any time soon - the amount of energy it took him to just leave
the house left him too fatigued and forgetful to even keep up with one class -
but he found an open lecture series at a university near his home and enjoyed
going when he could. He could only hop for about a meter with the aid of the
crutches, but he could swim at the local pool and worked to increase the number
of laps he could do. He wouldn’t be going to Singapore again any time soon, but
he was a regular at the local coffee shop. There were small victories every
week, and the anger and sadness started to subside. He was an adult living as
full a life as he could manage.
But then Jotaro would appear out of nowhere, and all the careful balance
Noriaki had worked towards would be shattered. He was still angry about
Jotaro’s aloofness, how he expected them to just pick up their friendship after
everything that had happened, how he’d go for months with no contact and then
just knock on the door with a few beers that Noriaki wasn’t even allowed to
drink due to the medication, and propose that they watch TV or something
equally as meaningless.
And what was worse was that it worked every time. Noriaki would be taciturn,
hiding behind his public persona, but as the evening went on, he’d drop his
guard, and they’d be talking and joking like old times. And sometimes Jotaro
would sleep on the couch, his long legs awkwardly hanging over the edge, and
Noriaki would be in his bedroom burning with desire, wanting to tell that idiot
to just come to bed, to kiss him and never stop. The disconnect between the
mental and physical sides of sexuality was still jarring, even after one of the
surgeries gave him back the capacity for erections, and he’d feel agitated and
for days after Jotaro would disappear again for another few months.
Noriaki had had a particularly bad day when Jotaro showed up after an
unprecedented year of silence. He’d been caught out in the rain that morning
without an umbrella, and couldn’t wheel himself to shelter quickly enough
before being soaked. He’d misremembered the deadline for a freelance project
and found himself scrambling to get it done in time. The handsome man who
always smiled at him at the lecture series, who he thought for sure had to be
gay, walked by hand in hand with a beautiful young woman and didn’t even
acknowledge him, as if his face being a meter lower than standing people’s
meant he wasn’t there. His right foot had been hurting a lot for no particular
reason and it was really getting on his nerves. And here came Jotaro Kujo,
wanting to whine about whatever asinine little roadbump he’d hit in his stupid
marriage, thinking that Noriaki would just shoulder the burden of coddling him
when his wife wouldn’t, and he just didn’t have the patience for his shit.
But he weakened again and abruptly asked for assistance with his bath, wanting
at least to be touched by Jotaro one last time before he kicked him out for
good for his own mental health. And he started to relax, and even feel a little
good, when he was thrown into a slight panic by Jotaro’s sudden obvious
arousal. It had been so long since he had been with another person, even though
it had been this person specifically. He’d gotten used to thinking of his body
as a medical specimen, as something that was an obstacle or an object of
contempt or pity for passers-by, as a source of pain and frustration, not as
something that could be desired. But Jotaro kissing him, touching him, and most
importantly wanting him, brought him back into himself for the third time, and
he knew then that he needed him back in his life.
He tried to say as much and fumbled it, and then watched in surprise as Jotaro
suddenly spiraled out of control, disassociating from the moment and choking
out years worth of pain like a frightened child. In all the years of being
preoccupied with his own recovery, his own sadness and fear, he’d somehow
missed that Jotaro wasn’t at all well. Yes, he was his usual quiet self, yes,
he deliberately withdrew from contact and Noriaki had himself to focus on
anyway, but he still felt like he should have noticed that something was wrong.
When he thought about, Jotaro was the only one who had ever seen all of him -
his best and his worst, his most vulnerable and his strongest. The very least
he could do was to promise to be there for him, to help him out of the hole
he’d found himself in, alone, while in the meantime Noriaki had had a team of
the world’s best doctors tending to his injuries.
He had to laugh, internally, at the picture they made, lying there in each
other’s arms, both broken in different ways. They’d survived against such
incredible odds by working together and then spent years trying to go it alone
and ended up worse off for it. But at least for tonight, they were together
again, and the future seemed less daunting. As Jotaro’s breath slowed and he
drifted off into sleep, Noriaki leaned close and whispered “thank you.”
End Notes
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