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There is a pattern always repeats itself. Throughout the years, throughout countless generations, the Joestar family loves, and loves so deeply.
Each cares in their own way, it's a repetitive thing, no matter how abrasive they appears on the outside, somewhere buried underneath that hard exterior is a strange gentleness reserved solely for those they call friends.
1.
Robert E.O Speedwagon was, if he were to be perfectly frank, absolutely fucking distraught.
They had won, that monster, Dio, had been defeated. But at what cost?
Baron Zeppeli, with all his mystique and experience in Hamon, had been killed, right in front of him. Bisected by an undead knight hailing back from the times of Queen Elizabeth the First, and finishing everything off by aging right before Robert's eyes, giving his power away to Mister Joestar.
Dire, the Hamon user they had met alongside Straizo and Tonpenny, had been flash-frozen, and shattered. He didn't think he was going to be getting much sleep after that event in particular, if he was going to at all beforehand.
It was in the carriage, on their way back to London, back to the streets he had raised himself on, that all of the absolutely mind-boggling events that had happened throughout the night kicked in. He shut his eyes tightly, laid to rest his head in his hands. He was no stranger to violence or death, his ascension to the status of 'respected' on Ogre street had been marked by a fair share of the stuff, most of it caused by his own hands.
But everything that had happened this cursed night was absolutely insane, he wasn't quite sure how he could handle it.
A hand clasped his shoulder. Jonathan.
Jonathan. Mister Joestar, the only way he would refer to the boy out loud. A young man that was just so pure he just couldn't, just couldn't-
The fact that Jonathan Joestar was probably the greatest and good-est person Robert would ever come across in the world, even if he spent the rest of his days wandering the earth, was almost as unbelievable as the events of tonight.
"Speedwagon," the young man said, always calling him by his last name, probably in reciprocation of Robert always referring to him by his surname. "Are you alright?" He asked, absolute concern present in his voice despite the fact that it wasn't Robert's mentor who had died today, it wasn't Robert who had to kill the monster of a brother he had known for years of his life, it was him.
God in heaven this boy was far too sweet for his own good.
But still, Robert squared his shoulders and raised his head. "Not to worry Mister Joestar," he said, giving his hat -Zeppeli's hat- a slight tip. "I'll be perfectly fine."
He was lying through his teeth of course, and when he saw the sheer amount caring the younger man held in his eyes, his facade almost broke down then and there. Those blue eyes shone with compassion, with the type of selflessness one would expect only to exist in fiction.
"Alright," Jonathan spoke with a melancholic smile tugging at his lips, and Robert felt his heart ache at the depths of the sadness that reflected in the others eyes. "If you ever want to talk, know that I'll be here."
(Robert E.O Speedwagon had fallen hopelessly, hopelessly in love with the kindest man to ever walk the face of the earth.)
(Knowing what he did about Jonathan and Erina, however, he said nothing.)
(It was something he would regret for the rest of his life.)
2.
It was a few days into their Hamon training when Caesar Zeppeli cut his arm rather badly, if one were to go by the regular injuries this type of training tended to incur.
"Cazzo," he hissed under his breath, hurriedly placing a spare cloth against the wound to staunch the bleeding. Now that he was actually pausing, he realised the bone-deep ache that permeated throughout his entire body. 'But,' he thought to himself, wrapping the cloth tightly around his forearm so that he wouldn't have to be pressing it down to not bleed all over the place, 'Can't stop yet.'
A sharp whistle sounded out from right over his shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his own skin with fright. Jesus Christ, he hadn't even heard the other approach.
"Yikes, Zeppeli," the Joestar said, voice muffled by the mask he was currently wearing, "That looks like it fucking hurts."
He perks up. "Hey," he continues, "Does this mean we can take a break?"
Caesar swats an arm out at him. "Fuck no," he responds, "Need I remind you what's at stake here?"
Joseph makes a show of counting on his fingers, probably to piss Caesar off. "Lets see, lets see, my liiifffeeee... the world, oh, and your ego!" Caesar is literally ready to slap a bitch, when Joseph cuts him off yet again, mirth no longer dancing in his eyes as it usually does.
"But seriously, Caesar, heh, that rhymed, you won't be able to get anything done with your arm like that. Let's break for an hour or so, you heal up slightly, then get back to training."
Caesar wants to disagree, to say to Mr "my-least-favorite-phrase-is-hard-work" that he can continue on just fine, thank you very much, unlike some people, but there's something in Joseph's eyes that hasn't been present much if ever before, and the words die on his tongue.
He finds himself seated, with Joseph rambling on about some inane outsmarting he did when he was younger that really happened, I swear! And all he can think about is the absolute disbelief at the fact of Joseph Joestar being a total mother hen.
3.
Noriaki Kakyoin, despite the fact that there's a soft pillow underneath his head, finally, after some of the most ridiculous conditions he had ever experienced, could not sleep.
He laid still in bed, before nerves hit him and he tossed, and turned, and rolled over and tossed and turned and- you get where this is going. Point is, Kakyoin could barely stay still, at some past-twelve point during the dead of night, much less actually sleep.
"Can you not?" The sleep hazy voice of Jotaro comes from beside him, and he freezes mid turn.
"Sorry," he says, more subdued that he usually is, he really isn't that passive a person regularly, and he turns back into bed, ready to try his damndest not to let silly fears stop him from sleeping.
The light flicks on, and there's shuffling from the bed beside him.
"Okay, what's wrong?" Jotaro asks in a deadpan, and Kakyoin turns over, propping himself up on all the extra pillows he had managed to scavenge from the hotel cabinets, to see the other seventeen-year-old reaching over tiredly for his trademark hat where it rests over on the bedside stand.
"It's really nothing-" Kakyoin starts, because that's what it is, just him and his goddamn anxieties, but Jotaro cuts him off.
"It isn't," his tone understanding, "tell me what's bothering you, Noriaki." He asks, but it's less of a question and more of a demand.
Kakyoin hesitates. "It's about Dio," he finally spills. "I'm just, it's nothing."
Jotaro looks at him, really looks at him, and apparently doesn't like what he sees because something in his eyes hardens. "Tell me." He repeats, and Kakyoin feels like a dam about to burst. And burst it does.
"I don't want to face him again," Kakyoin rushes out. "Like, I know I will, because I'm coming with you all, and I know what type of absolute monster he is, and I also want to fight him for the fleshbud, for everything, but-" he cuts off, and a scene of the most beautiful, terrifying man he had ever seen in his life holding his face close, closer than Noriaki had ever been to a person before save probably members of his family, and his eyes shine red and Noriaki feels exhausted and exhilarated at the same time and Hierophant Green has long since stopped trying to fight as his own will burns ever weaker in the face of such horror, such perfection-
"-but I'm not sure what I'll do, once I see him again. That's all." He says, and his eyes are firmly set on his hands lying in his lap, fists clenched so tightly to the point his knuckles are white and he feels slight pains from where his fingernails must be pushing into his palms-
A hand settles on his shoulder, it's large and firm, and in the state Kakyoin is in right now he should probably be sent into a panic, what with the size of the hand and the pressure of the touch being similar to Dio's but-
-but he doesn't. He actually relaxes slightly.
"I won't let him touch you." Jotaro says, resolute from his postition beside him on his bed, and Kakyoin peers through the cherry-red hair hanging down in front of his eyes to look at Jotaro, and he believes him.
Then come the words, "Now go the fuck back to sleep.", and Kakyoin laughs at thoroughly Jotaro can ruin a mood.
4.
They're having a sleepover at Josuke's house, Josuke and Okuyasu, just the two of them, as Koichi was never really one for sleepovers, nor would either of the taller boys want to face Yukako should she believe anything were to happen. It's the dead of night, and they're both doing what all people do during sleepovers.
"Psst," Josuke whisper-shouts, the only reason he doesn't talk at a normal volume caused by the fear of awakening both his mother and her wrath.
"Yeah?" Okuyasu responds, at the same relative volume.
"Can you sleep?"
"Not really, no."
"Anything on your mind?"
Okuyasu is strangely silent, and Josuke shifts over from where he's lying to look over at him, both of the boys in the living room due to wanting to be in the same room and neither wanting to get the bed. "Dude, you good?"
"Yeah," Okuyasu replies, but it's distracted, like most of his responses have been tonight Josuke realises, and his concern amplifies. "Just thinkin' about stuff."
"Stuff?" Josuke probes expertly, and by that I mean not at all.
"Highschool stuff. Y'know. Graduating."
"What about it?" Josuke asks, increasingly worried about why exactly Okuyasu is acting so down.
"I might not."
"Sorry, what?!" Josuke yells out, and both of the boys fall silent as they wait for the wrath of Tomoko to fall down on them like a ton of bricks. After about half a minute, they both breathe sighs of relief.
"Dude," Okuyasu hisses, "Don't shout." as if that isn't the most hypocritical thing he's ever said in his life.
"Okay, no, I'm sorry, just," Josuke stutters, trying to find the right words. Okuyasu can't just drop out, he was his best friend! "What?!" He finally asks.
"S'what i said," Okuyasu repeats. "Might need to get a job. To like, keep dad alive and everything." He mostly means himself, Keicho had tried starvation as a tactic to kill his father when they were younger. Didn't work, just like everything else.
"Dude," Josuke starts, and then pauses with the sheer incredulity he feels. "You know you can come to me for shit like this, yeah? Worst comes to worst I can ask my old man, hell, the Speedwagon foundation would probably help because you're a stand user."
Okuyasu blinks. "Really?" He asks, half to himself and half to the universe, for letting him have such a smart friend.
"Of course, dumbass," Josuke responds, but there's absolutely no heat to it. He turns over to look Okuyasu dead in the eyes, and he's slightly awed by the amount of fire in the others eyes. (Like father like son) "You're my best fucking bro, of course I'll help you."
Okuyasu, pointedly, does not cry.
5.
Giorno Giovanna would die for a select few people in the world.
Not his family by blood, the Joestar family, who try their best to treat him as one of their own, despite the issue of his conception, despite the issue of who his father was, what he did. (And wasn't that a shock when he first found out. Son of a monster.)
Although the Joestars do come close to the 'I-would-sacrifice-everything-for-you' category. Close, but not quite.
No, there have only been six people in total, throughout the entire world, that Giorno Giovanna would risk his life and more for.
Three of them are dead.
He knows, conceptually, that Mista is his bodyguard, and all that entails. Knows that Fugo and Trish will be in danger occasionally, if only purely for the fact that they are stand users, and stand users constantly seem to attract trouble like they have some sort of gravitational force.
He knows this, knows they all got hurt in their own ways when trying to defeat Diavolo. Mista specifically getting shot countless times over the course of a week.
Knowing these things, however, does not prepare him for the most almost-successful attempt on his life yet, nor does it prepare him for the feelings tumbling through him as he watched his second in command, his best friend, lie still on a hospital bed, body fixed via Giorno's stand but mind still not rousing.
Passione had complete and total control over Napoli, and quite a large portion, almost 80 percent, of Italia. What areas they didn't have total control of, they still had a large amount of sway. But their opinions and rules being valued and followed never changed the fact that there were always upstarts. That's how he had gotten here, after all.
A small rival gang, if they could even be called that, with how large Passione is, had seen how he had gained power, and had thought to try their hand at it.
There had been three stand users among them.
Giorno is currently contemplating whether to kill the whole gang, or to take a slightly-less-horrifying-but-not-totally page out of Diavolo's book and leave a message.
"I'm going to kill them and everyone they care about." He decides to himself in a language he uses very rarely, and Fugo, bless his heart for deciding to learn Japanese once he learnt Giorno had hailed from there as a child, understands immediately.
"No," he says in simple Italian, because Trish doesn't understand a word of Japanese and she's already pissy from the stress of Mista not waking up, "We don't touch innocents, but we do leave a message."
Giorno is still staring at Mista. He's just lying there.
It's wrong. He's too still.
"Giorno," Fugo says, slightly stressing his tone, and he moves his hand to his Boss's shoulder. Giorno, as touch starved as he is, practically melts into the touch in the most dignified manner he can. Fugo is his friend.
"Alright," he bites out, "Alright. Just a message. But a strong one."
Fugo and Trish nod in agreement, behind him. He doesn't need to look back to know this.
(Later, when Mista wakes up, Giorno refuses to leave his side for at least a week, even though it's technically Mista's job to stay by his. "If anything ever happens to you again I will kill everyone in Napoli and then myself," he says, and Mista starts laughing, until it starts to trail off as Giorno stares him in the eyes with one of his most intense looks.
"Alright," he says.)
6.
Emporio knows that at heart, he is a coward.
This is, of course, the exact opposite of true, as a coward wouldn't be able to do what he has done, to save the entire universe from a miserable future of always knowing exact outcomes of their actions, everything being perfectly orchestrated and planned, every death and tragedy being yet another part of the script that everyone knew, nothing to be done about it, the joy sucked out of every achievement and successful goal.
But he couldn't save the universe from ending, either, so he knows deep inside him that he is both a coward and a failure.
Jolyne would say the opposite, she was always sweet on him. Probably because he was a kid, but it was still nice to feel such affection, affection he never really knew all too well after Pucci killed his mother.
Jolyne is dead, now.
He wonders that if Jolyne were here, what she would say about him. Maybe she would congratulate him for actually stopping Pucci, the only member of their small group left alive after everything that went on at Green Dolphin Street Prison, and, if he's seeing this alternate-yet-familiar area correctly, the only member of his universe left alive.
Emporio watches as the universe crumbles around him, as he kills a man at eleven years old and it crumbles again. Emporio watches as a sweet couple take in three hitchhikers into their car simply for having no other way. Emporio watches as Irene Kujo, this universe's Jolyne, looks back at him through the wing mirror with a concerned look, how she whispers to her Fiance about how she's worried for the eleven year old boy in the back of the car.
Emporio watched as the universe crumbled around him, as everything and everyone he ever knew became undone.
But in the new universe, there is a pattern always repeats itself. Throughout the years, throughout countless generations, the Joestar family loves, and loves so deeply.