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The many miserable months of Kakyoin’s recovery within the Speedwagon Foundation allow him too much time to reflect. Jotaro has become more proficient when it comes to offering distraction, but Kakyoin can’t expect everything from someone so reserved—even if that someone is falling in love with him. The giddy, fluttering emotions do make things easier; but just like the first flames of any bonfire, when the tendrils of heat are small and wispy, curling up and around anything they can grab, Kakyoin and Jotaro’s feelings for one another are too-often obscured by smoke.
The smoke mostly comes in Kakyoin’s dreams. Even after the surgeries, the implants, the rehabilitation, it hurts. Medications help him forget the physical component of his suffering, but he’s convinced they make the nightmares worse—deeper and more visceral. The smoke comes for Jotaro, too, when last of his adrenaline trickles out of him and he remembers the ones he’s lost, remembers that his brain is broken and that friends and travels could only stave off creeping depression for so long.
The days when the smoke fills their lungs are the quietest.
Kakyoin drifts off to sleep whether he wants to or not. Jotaro sits beside him and lights a cigarette without thinking, because his mind has run off somewhere else again. The frantic cries of the foundation doctors rushing towards him to rip the taste of bitter nicotine from his mouth don’t wake their patient.
He is far too deep within the suffocating grasp of remembrance.
—
The vacation is, if nothing else, an escape from the mundane reality of loneliness that holds Kakyoin in a stagnant bubble. Once he explains the prospect of other cultures and countries and flips through the Egyptian travel guide, pointing at vibrant and glossy pages, Hierophant Green is excited, too. It will be Greenie’s first time out of Japan—Kakyoin vaguely remembers one other international trip, one he took with his parents when he was almost too young to remember.
His stand came to him the following year.
“Can you imagine the skill required to have constructed the pyramids so long ago, without the technology we have now?” Kakyoin absolutely marvels over the pictures—he can’t imagine seeing the real thing.
Kakyoin’s mother calls to him from another room. “Did you say something?”
A fluorescent green tendril slaps over Kakyoin’s mouth to hush him, along with one of those pointed looks from yellow eyes that says, “Shut up, dumb dumb. Pack your bags.”
The pyramids (and all of the architecture, really) is even more magnificent up close. Luckily, Kakyoin remembers to keep his comments mostly to himself, occasionally shooting a thought telepathically to his stand so that Greenie can enjoy the vacation as well. Even amongst the company of his parents, Kakyoin is quiet. His family is small and unassuming—no siblings to tease, no grandparents left alive, only one aunt and uncle who rarely speak to rest of the family. He only wishes that his stand, tail quivering with excitement and eyes alight with wonder, could share its joy with anyone else, even one other person.
“Would you mind if I headed to the next block over, to that used bookstore? I saw something I liked when we walked by earlier, and I just finished the book I brought with me.” Later that day, when the sun is low on the horizon, Kakyoin tosses his book from home atop his suitcase, where it lands with a little plop for emphasis. “I’ll come right back. It’ll be quick. If I leave now, I think I can be back in the hotel before it’s completely dark.”
His parent are hesitant, but Kakyoin reminds them that he’s been studying some basic Arabic and that he has the best sense of direction out of any of them. He’ll be fine. Plus, without anything to entertain him in the hotel room for the rest of the night, he’ll grow bored.
Kakyoin is a nightmare when he’s bored.
The brief moments of freedom from his parents are some of the best that he’s had during the entire trip. He takes some time to murmur to Greenie, in particular, because he misses talking to the closest thing he has to a friend. While the stand can’t exactly speak back, Kakyoin knows exactly what he’s thinking. There’s not a voice, exactly, but some deep instinct that tells Kakyoin everything he needs to know.
Luckily, the book is still there when he arrives at the little stand on the side of the road, an alley’s length away from the more touristy venues on the main street. Only seconds pass before the book is in hand and Kakyoin is on his way to find the owner behind another tall shelf of tomes. Instead of the owner, he finds a distinctly large man with skin and hair the exact opposite of any Egyptian’s. He, too, appears to be perusing the shop’s selection, but with much less intent and hurry than Kakyoin.
When the man speaks, Kakyoin’s knees buckle.
“My name is Dio,” he says simply, but in a way that indicates he’s quite proud of the name his mother gave him. “Are you traveling?”
His presence is both welcoming and intimidating all at once, but it’s the sudden sound of English that startles Kakyoin the most.
“Yes,” he answers, adjusting to the third language he’s used this week. “From Japan.” A pause. “Are you?”
Dio shrugs and tilts his head to examine sideways the title of a book. “I suppose I’ve settled here for the time being.” It’s not exactly the answer Kakyoin expected, but Dio’s garments and the strong yet flamboyant way he carries himself easily draw his attention away from asking further questions. There’s something about him that Kakyoin understands within seconds of being near him, which is both strange and intriguing at once. Perhaps it’s something to do with Dio’s sexuality—Kakyoin’s never met another gay kid at the small private schools his parents enrolled him in.
And while Kakyoin knows it’s wrong to assume things (at the moment, he is devastatingly far from traditionally masculine), he also knows that Dio is anything but a heterosexual.
He wants to like Dio, and it’s not long before he does. In fact, it’s only a matter of seconds. All it takes is for Dio to ask in that voice smoother than the richest chocolate, “Your companion is the most lovely shade of emerald. Might I ask its abilities?”
Kakyoin blinks. Are his earrings emerald that day? He doesn’t remember packing that pair, and he can feel the dangling charms roll against his neck. He’s not wearing green, either. There is no one with him, unless someone has been following him—
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches his Hierophant Green shyly reach past him with a single appendage; without hesitation, Dio takes its tip as delicately as he might a woman’s hand, then bends to just touch his lips against its surface. Kakyoin feels the caress on the back of his own hand and clasps it to his chest while the sensation spreads throughout his body like an invasive warmth.
“H-how?” Usually, Kakyoin prides himself on being more eloquent, but for someone else to see his stand? To touch it?
It’s unheard of.
“They’re called ‘stands,’ and you are its user. Only stand users can see the stands of others.”
It takes six tries for Kakyoin to reshelve the book in his hand.
“You felt my lips on your skin just now. I trust you’ve already discovered that you feel what it feels, and vice versa?”
Kakyoin swallows and nods. Yes, he’s known that for a long time.
“That’s because it’s a part of you. Think of it as a manifestation of your soul.” Dio smiles (Kakyoin’s breath lurches at the sight of such pearly, gleaming canines), rests his large hand around the top of Kakyoin’s arm, and pulls himself close when he murmurs, “Like user like stand. You’re a lucky boy. It’s no surprise that it’s so gorgeous.” Hardly another second passes before Dio straightens and returns to browsing the store with the vague interest of any other wandering customer. “Which book did you have in hand? Something you might recommend? So many stories these days seem too shallow—where is the depth that the classics once held?”
“I’d like to see you again,” Kakyoin suddenly blurts out.
Dio lifts one carefully groomed eyebrow, and when he grins his cheeks dimple on one side. “I have a nice home not far from here, with tea and a library. Actually, there’s a few books that I know you would like—us stand users can understand each other in an instant, you see.” The grin widens, and were any other stranger to ask the same thing, Kakyoin would have declined. Dio, however, is different. He can see Greenie. He knows things, he could explain it all, he called Kakyoin a boy.
Kakyoin glances behind himself, back towards his hotel, and realizes that he can see barely anything in the alley beyond the reach of the bookshop’s lights. “My parents are waiting for me,” he says. “I’ve already been too long.” His mind scrambles for a way to keep Dio in his life, because he craves more of this, more of him.
“I understand. Here, then. Tomorrow. Same time? I have something to bring you.”
Kakyoin is relieved to see that Dio doesn’t seem the least bit offended. In fact, his amber eyes smolder with excitement.
“See you tomorrow, Noriaki.” Kakyoin hears Dio’s farewell over his shoulder, and once he’s already halfway back to the hotel, his feet pounded the pavement with hurried steps, he realizes that he forgot to buy his book. When his parents question him about his empty hands, he answers with a distracted tone and a distant gaze, “I couldn’t find it. Must have sold it while we were out today,” then disappears into the bathroom to take an extended shower and make sense of his encounter.
Kakyoin does see Dio the next day, and the day after that.
With some help from his new acquaintance (friend?), Kakyoin discovers a few sights in particular that are more famous for their romantic quality—his parents aren’t exactly lovebirds, but they also don’t object when Kakyoin insists that he’s tired and that he’ll enjoy a night in on his own. He has always been an introvert, so his claim comes as no surprise to them after a week of all-day exploration and socializing. He waits exactly ten minutes after they depart from the room with final worried glances before leaping from the bed and grabbing his backpack He almost packs the book Dio gave to him, before remembering how he was told so tenderly to “Keep it. It’s a gift.”
He and Dio are to meet in their usual spot, but their conversation will finally be of length tonight. Kakyoin wonders if Dio will show him his own stand, as well. He wants to know everything about this man—where he came from, why he’s here, what exactly possesses him to wear such extravagantly slutty ensembles. He wants to know what kind of company Dio keeps, and he soon finds out.
Dio’s dwelling is absolutely crawling with an abundance of odd characters, but not odd in the way that makes them offputting. Actually, Kakyoin has to admit that he is a bit too excited to be seeing one of the butlers lounging on a couch in the foyer, languidly holding a Game Boy over his head. He’s confused, because weren’t they only just announced? Kakyoin has one preordered back in Japan—how the hell did this man in Egypt get his hands on one?
“That’s Terence,” Dio says, pointing over his shoulder and continuing up a flight of stairs. “Vanilla and the girls will be around here somewhere.”
Kakyoin’s eyes widen at a couple of smaller, peculiar men who hide behind columns and follow his movements by turning their entire bodies in unison with him. Dio only waves his hand. “Not worth your time. The library is this way. Did you enjoy the book, by the way? I have many others similar to it. You’re welcome to pick another, if you’d like.”
While Dio prattles on in his too-soothing voice, careful not to let a single personal fact about himself slip into the open during his conversation, Kakyoin begins to ponder just what kind of living situation is implied by the inhabitants of this mansion. Are they truly servants? Or is this a brothel, and Dio at its head? Despite Kakyoin keeping Greenie hidden, for the time being, he has a feeling in the pit of his stomach that each and every person here knows just what he is.
The sharp scent of smoke softened only with what must be cloves wafts its way around the stairwell’s bannister. Kakyoin catches only a brief glimpse of another blonde man, gruffer than Dio, face hidden mostly by his hat—
“Oh dear. Watch your step,” Dio warns. “Terence has been too distracted by that bloody contraption to properly clean up after my meals.”
Before Kakyoin can so much as wonder what Dio means, the toe of his foot thuds into something pliable, like flesh. At the same time, the smoking man brushes past them both on the stairwell with his head down, either in reverence or because this moment of dreadful discovery is the last thing he wants to see. “Damned leftovers,” he murmurs under his breath in a voice just as gravelly as Kakyoin might have expected it to be.
Smoke fills his senses at the same time that Kakyoin peers down and sees the mess that lies beneath him—a woman, barely clothed, her mouth open in an eternal scream of ecstasy.
He doesn’t want to be here.
Maybe it’s the smoke, maybe it’s just shock, but Kakyoin begins to cough. He grabs at his throat and falls against the railing, sliding down onto one stair and letting Greenie come out because he craves a single shred of familiarity and safety within what has become a nightmare. Dio looms over him, lifts his trembling body with an arm beneath his knees and one around his shoulders, and carries him the rest of the way to the library and the lounge.
It’s the first dead body that Kakyoin has ever seen, and he still can’t catch a full breath. Dio tries to speak to him, has Terence bring in a pot of tea to calm him, but there is nothing to be calm about in a world full of monsters. Out of the corner of his eye, he lifts a pleading gaze towards Greenie.
When eyes like headlights and a muzzled visage are the only things that can bring Kakyoin back down to steady breathing and a calmer demeanor, he realizes that a world of monsters may be exactly where he belongs.
—
Kakyoin opens his eyes to see a particularly grumpy Jotaro. For a long time, he just stares, watching the man he’s falling in love with shift anxiously in his seat until he realizes that the reason Jotaro looks so anxious is probably because he’s waiting for Kakyoin to say something.
“Why so grumpy?” Kakyoin’s voice is hoarse from deep sleep.
“They took my cigarettes.”
“Well go outside to smoke.”
“Didn’t want to leave you.”
When Jotaro leans forward to rest his head near Kakyoin’s shoulder, a whiff of smoke from Jotaro’s clothes mingles with the hospital ward’s clean linen.
Smoke.
“Nori?”
Kakyoin’s mouth pulls into a wide, tired smile, and he shakes his head. “It’s nothing, Jotaro. It’s okay.
“I’m okay.”