Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sound vibrated through the musky basement air like waves in a warm ocean. Dim light from lamps too old to replace shimmered through the dust as drinks were bought and seats were taken. Soles on concrete floors mimicked the beat of the drums onstage, where insignia with golden letters graced the front of the bass drum. A last strum on the guitar and the crowd's cheer turned into frantic applause and whistles.

“Thank You, Air Supplena!” The blonde guitarist yelled into the dingy old microphone. His forehead was laced with sweat, but his eyes gleamed with never-ending vigour. Even more cheers erupted as the band onstage gave each other one more nod before starting their last song for the evening.

“Joseph messed up the beat in the second verse. That totally threw Caesar off. Mon dieu , what a dumbass.” Polnareff groaned, taking another swig from his can of beer.

“Save the criticism for when we’re out of earshot, Pol. Remember, Joseph’s the only reason we get to use the studio free of charge this month.”

“Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time Avdol,” he grinned. “That doesn’t make it any less painful to notice though.”

Both let out a chuckle and poor Jotaro began to wish he’d ditched them this time around.

As hard as it was to believe, they were his bandmates. Without them, he’d probably be at home practicing the last few chord progressions of whatever song his cousin’s band was playing, or studying.

They’d met officially at one of “The Ripple’s” concerts earlier this year — though they’d seen each other around campus before — and hit it off because Polnareff wouldn’t stop trying to get Jotaro to talk after Avdol had introduced him as Joseph’s cousin. Or maybe it was because they were all musicians themselves.

At this point, the bulky teen had probably repressed the memory so far back in his mind that it would take even Joseph and his cunning way with words half a day to tease it out of him.

However it may have happened, it resulted in a Japanese Marine Biology student, an Egyptian History student and a Frenchman stumbling through any majors imaginable agreeing to make music together, which was bizarre enough on its own.

Jotaro groaned, leaving Avdol and Polnareff to their bickering, pulling his cap down and closing his eyes. His fingers started tapping on the table, instinctively following the rhythm set by “He Stopped Thinking”.

The aggressive sound of Caesar’s guitar blended well with the fast pace set through Suzi Q’s bass. Rounding everything off was Joseph’s intense drumming. It seemed so polished, so finished.

If they actually worked on it, they could probably achieve a sound like that for their own songs, Jotaro thought. But his brow furrowed and his fingers stopped mid-air when Caesar began to sing.

Fuck.

The guitarist's voice cut through the warbled mess of words the crowd tried to sing to cheer the group on, like an arrow shot through the woods. It hit the bullseye, clear and intense, unmistakable in tone, unique and unifying at once.

They couldn’t compete with that. Not at all.

Defeated, he slumped back in his chair.

“Give me a damn break.”

“You noticed it too?”

Another silent tug on his cap as he crossed one leg over the other and leaned back gave Avdol all the answers he needed. Resting his hands on their table, he looked over at Polnareff.

“Has anyone replied to the listings on the dorm’s blackboards yet?”

“Not a soul,” Polnareff muttered. He looked off to the stage absentmindedly while playing with his now empty can, red painted nails tapping in a fast pace against the metal.

“It almost feels like a cruel joke, non?” He sighed, leaning back in his chair, arms draped dramatically over the backrest. Frustration resounded clear in his voice.

“Shouldn’t be this hard to find a decent vocalist at a university with so many musical opportunities now, should it?”

Nobody said anything, because they knew damn well that he was right. In the first few weeks their hopes were soaring high, but they were shot down one by one as days passed, turning weeks into months of creative stagnation. And it sucked. Hard.

Avdol broke the uncomfortable silence. “Should we try the campus Facebook page again? Or promote on Instagram?”

“Like any of that is gonna start working out of nowhere.” Jotaro said. He shifted in his seat, patting his pockets down for a pack of cigarettes. After this concert was over, he’d need a break. A long one. By himself, if he was lucky enough to pin soon-to-be drunk Joseph on someone else.

“If we keep up this pace, our listings will start being considered spam.”

Polnareff couldn’t help but laugh, leaning on his elbow. “But seriously man, I don’t want to keep doing only instrumental tracks…”

The Frenchman looked off to the stage, his eyes fixed on the imminent spotlight. So close and yet so far away.

“I wanna convey a message, not just emotion, you know? I get that we’re good, but I want to take things to the next level with you guys.”

“We all want to do that, Pol — believe me.” Avdol sighed, shooting a glance toward an obviously agitated Jotaro. “But we can’t exactly force a singer to just appear, can we?”

“If we could, this would be a whole lot easier.” The Japanese teen muttered. His voice was easily overpowered by the reverb of the last chord and the crowds cheering as “He Stopped Thinking” ended.

The screeching sound of the metal chair legs scraping on the wooden floor were quickly followed by a “Having a smoke.” It was all the excuse Jotaro needed to disappear from the stuffy basement for a brief moment of quiet before the crowd stormed the exit.

It was colder outside than he’d anticipated — Well, as cold as it could get on a summer night. But the change in temperature was more than welcome to clear his head. Thin veils of smoke rose from his lit cigarette, clouds following as Jotaro sighed, leaning against the frigid brick wall with the taste of nicotine on his tongue.

He didn’t want to ask Joseph for help again, anything but that. He’d never hear the end of it, and if not from Joseph it would definitely be from himself.

He’d been rejecting his offer to join “The Ripple” for literal years, but couldn’t even keep up his own damn band’s morale. Not to mention how he hadn’t completed their line-up after seven months of their uneventful existence. If he couldn’t even manage that, then what was even the point?

Pain surged through his fist when he smashed it against the wall. Clenching his teeth, he leaned his head back against the red brick.  What kind of a band leader was he supposed to be —

“Um, excuse me?”

Jotaro turned his head.

What was that voice?

Usually the fans wouldn’t come out for another five minutes. And usually the fans weren’t lanky Japanese looking redheads with odd long bangs in cherry print blouses. Was this some kind of joke?

“Sorry to interrupt… whatever it is you were doing, but do you know if the concert is still going?”

This was definitely a joke. It had to be. Either that or he was hallucinating. Did Pol lace his cigarettes with something?

Jotaro just shook his head, staring back into the other’s petite face. What was a guy like him doing here? In front of a dingy local live music bar? Alone?

“Oh, I see.” The redhead sighed, looking off to the lit-up display box next to the taller teen.

“Usually things like this don’t happen to me, I must have switched up the times for The Ripple and the next band.” He let out a strained laugh, turning back towards Jotaro, who was still just staring back at him with his resting bitchface. He stepped back a little, seemingly afraid to have infringed on Jotaro’s personal space, and looked to the side like an embarrassed schoolgirl.

“Sorry to bother you. I’ll just — ”

“They’re performing again next week, same time.” Jotaro grumbled. He tugged at his cap to hide a faint smile. “They’re regulars here. Hard to miss once you get used to them being there all the time.”

What was he even doing? Why was he helping this guy? If he could dress like... that… to a rock concert, he could look up the performance times himself, couldn’t he? But hell, he just seemed so… genuine when he heard it, smiling, moving his head just a little which made his golden cherry-looking earrings swing left to right. And the way he spoke—

Was he not intimidated by Jotaro at all?

“Ah, I see. I’ll try my best to remember it right this time around.” The other teen chuckled. He quickly took a picture of the lists on display before turning around to Jotaro one more time, his cheeks red from the cold.

“Thanks for your help…”

“Jotaro.”He supplied quickly, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out in an attempt to distract himself. The redhead smiled.

“Thanks, Jotaro. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then”

And with that, by far the oddest encounter of the night ended. Jotaro didn’t know what to make of even half of it as he watched the bizarre stranger walk home along the flickering streetlights. Only when he re-entered the club did he notice that he hadn’t even asked for the stranger’s name.

Chapter Text

A strum, a sound, a disgruntled sigh, another button-press on the tuner.

It had been a few days since Jotaro’s midnight encounter with the strange redhead in front of the Air Supplena, but somehow, he couldn’t keep himself from thinking back to it constantly. He couldn’t prevent his mind from wandering; he just couldn’t really wrap his mind around what had happened.

Was the stranger  really just there for the concert? He certainly didn’t look the part, not to mention the carefree way he carried on their conversation— if you could even call it one— what with Jotaro’s stoic answers and all.

A fine turn on the g-strings peg. So much for improving his social skills in college.

But even more than that, that voice— his voice— had gotten stuck in Jotaro’s head and refused to move an inch.

The tall teen sighed, shaking his head briefly before getting back to tuning his guitar.

What was even special about it? It was just a voice. A really soft, unique, perfect voice...

Stop.

What annoyed him the most was not even the fact that he’d been so dumbfounded by the situation that he forgot to ask him about his stupid name (Seriously? Who walked out of their house like that and just approached random strangers?), it was that he told him to come back— that he’d shoved his own name into the conversation and basically invited him to go to the concert with him like some kind of creep. Hell, he’d never even seen him before that evening, and likely wouldn’t have to see him again if Jotaro had acted like a normal human being for once. So what the hell was he thinking? He was lucky he hadn’t turned around immediately.

He strummed the strings again, letting the tones echo through his room, revelling in the harmonic sound.

Almost as harmonic as—

Frustrated, he cut off his own thoughts and fell back onto his unmade bed sheets.

What are you, man? Some kind of deaf guy who just heard someone talk for the first time? Get your act together.

Bright light penetrated the usually dark room, passing through black curtains he hadn’t closed properly, making the dust particles in the air ever so slightly visible. From the outside, the sound of cars and students chatter on the way to campus made its way into the apartment.

Honestly, Jotaro was glad he didn’t have to live on campus like Avdol and Polnareff did. Not having to deal with annoying roommates, weird RA’s, and arbitrary rules (not to mention that half of the dorms’ residents were probably drunk fifty percent of the time) put one less worry on his mind.

Living alone wasn’t much easier, but at least he had his room to himself, a roof over his head, and nobody complaining when he practiced his chords at 10 pm. Plus, the dorms wouldn’t have allowed him to take his fish (which was definitely not one of the deciding reasons he got his own apartment, not at all .)

The sound of his phone vibrating was what finally snapped Jotaro out of his trance. Gently laying the purple guitar down on his bed, he reached over to read whatever was displayed on the lit-up screen. Barely a second later he remembered and finally turned it off.

The Class-Alarm.

Shit, how long had he been zoning out? What lecture was it again? Think, you big shithead—

Oh right.

Scrambling, the tall teen heaved himself off his bed, stuffing everything he needed for music theory into his bag haphazardly.

Of course he’d forget Music Theory. Of course he’d forget the class he’d been looking forward to the most next to his Marine Biology major. What else would he do?

After frantically stuffing his laptop in, most likely messing up all the papers in his binder judging by how much force he needed to use, he threw on a light jacket and burst out the door.

This was not the time for stupid thoughts about stupid people he met in front of the stupid club with stupid pretty voices.

He couldn’t be late, not to his first music theory class of the semester. Maybe if it turned out to be some old fart just babbling about chromatic progression and analysis of the classics all year, he’d ditch it eventually, but maybe he got lucky.

Maybe the professor was someone who actually knew why people took music theory in college. Hopefully, they were someone who could teach them about how to use that theory, how to compose something with actual meaning behind it, classic or not.

For a brief moment Jotaro allowed himself to smile at the notion. He’d just have to see, given he even made it in time.

Breathing heavily, Jotaro opened the doors leading into the lecture hall.

Today must be the day the universe decided to give him good karma in exchange for all the shit he had to endure from Joseph over the weekend.

For the first and probably last time in the semester apart from finals, it was full. Very full. Not as full as it had been in his marine biology class, but full enough to make him resign to a seat in the middle of a row, just in case he wouldn’t get the chance to find another one. Since when was Music Theory so popular?

For once his gruff exterior was useful for something, even if that was scaring people away and consequently giving him the smallest bit of privacy. Jotaro rolled his eyes; it was not really the impression he wanted to make anymore, but you take what you can get after all.

Slowly but surely, the mumbling around him began to die down; bags were unzipped, notepads, laptops and tablets were placed on slim tabletops. Gazes shifted to the front where a middle-aged woman started jotting down bullet points relating to her lesson and the textbook.

After a little while Jotaro felt himself relax.

Usually he didn’t really enjoy crowds, like this one, at all. It wasn’t something he could control or explain to himself, but other than when he was onstage, blinded by the hot spotlights, where it was too bright to see the people around him, he felt like their eyes were glued uncomfortably on him. Maybe it was because of his distinctly non-Japanese features that had always made him an eyecatcher back when he lived in his fathers’ home country. The kind of features that made him stand out when he didn’t want to, gave him attention in the worst situations.

 Strangely enough, it didn’t feel like that.Not this time.

It was calm.

A faint smile spread over Jotaro’s lips.

Given that the girls in the course didn’t start swooning around him like an obnoxious cloud the way they usually did, he could really get used to this atmosphere.

Between taking notes and just listening to the lecturer, the class was really more interesting than he had initially thought. Sure, they’d be starting with the basics, but they’d eventually get to modern composers and even text music correlation, something he’d definitely need once the whole vocalist thing finally worked out and he needed to rework what little lyrics he’d written. Deep inside, he couldn’t help but feel a bit excited for what was to come in class and for the band, letting his gaze swerve across the rest of the class in curiosity.

Wait. That hair colour. Hadn’t he seen that before?

Between masses of dark browns, natural blondes and blacks, there it was. That bright red colour. It was relatively close to the front of the room, one peculiarly  long strand hanging down from the bangs. He wasn’t wearing that odd-looking cherry print blouse anymore, instead opting for a simpler forest green dress shirt from what Jotaro could see, but there was no way it wasn’t him. It had to be him .

Jotaro gripped his pen tighter.

He’d changed his mind. The universe really just wanted to fuck with him today.

Why did he have to be here? Of all the classes he could be in, why this one?

Talking to him after he messed up Jotaro’s brain like that would be so uncomfortable, for both of them.

Feeling hot, he started shifting in his seat. His mind began to race through the options he had, which earned him a disapproving gaze from the people behind him. His only response was a quick tug on his cap. Jotaro always forgot how tall he was.

Maybe he could do what he usually did, let his resting bitchface do its work and scare the guy off. No, he wasn’t exactly afraid of him at the Air Supplena; and he’d already helped him once, so there was no justifiable reason to suddenly not want to talk with him—

 And why was he the one getting all nervous about this?!

Jotaro glanced at his watch. There were still around ten minutes until music theory was finished.

He probably hadn’t even noticed him (as if), it was fine. He’d just walk out the door after the lecture, pretend he didn’t see him, and not comment on it in case he even remembered to go to the Supplena for the concert this weekend. Foolproof. One more unneeded interaction avoided.

Though he really wanted to hear his voice.

The next ten minutes couldn’t have passed any slower.

“Alright everyone, if you haven’t already, finish up your reading on the current chapter. I won’t give you homework this time, but be ready to work your asses off when I do.” The woman at the front gave her students a cheeky smile. “I’ll see you next time.”

Dismissal, finally.

Jotaro was damn near ready to leap out of his seat and sprint out of the room if it meant avoiding confrontation. He felt like he might have pushed his classmates out of the way if they’d been any slower leaving their row.

But it seemed he was lucky.

Opening the doors felt like a godsend, the cool air outside just what he needed; he couldn’t have cared less about the other students chatter around him when he descended the stairs, lit a cigarette, and plopped down on a bench in the small pocket park between the liberal arts building and some dorm buildings.

A breath in, a breath out.

Slowly the tall teen began to relax…

… and felt a light touch on his shoulder.

“Hey, aren’t you the guy who helped me last weekend? In front of the live music club? Jotaro, right?”

Shit.

Chapter Text

“Hey, aren’t you the guy who helped me last weekend? In front of the live music club? Jotaro, right?”

Shit.

Jotaro recognised that voice immediately. How could he not, after having it echo on repeat in his mind since that night? As much as he wanted to hear it again, to savour the sweet sound, he wished he’d put in earbuds to have some kind of excuse as to ignore its owner because dammit he was not ready to talk to him like a normal person.

“I didn’t expect you to be taking music theory, if I’m being honest — oh, mind if I sit down next to you?”

The tall redhead didn’t even give him a chance to respond, practically falling onto the wooden bench. He couldn’t help but sigh silently. At least this gave Jotaro a moment to look at him properly.

That hunch Jotaro had about him being Japanese was probably right in one way or another, judging by the shape of his eyes and skin tone, but everything else about this guy seemed strange at worst and elusive at best. It was like he was saying so much and so little at the same time; like playing an instrument without making a sound and expecting someone to guess it; an enigma of a person.

Where his outfit from the concert had definitely left an impression, the one he was wearing now would’ve almost made him blend into the background if it wasn’t for the golden cherry-esque earrings he was wearing, or the rest of his appearance for what it’s worth.

While his weirdly styled hair was that bright red almost ginger-y colour, it was his eyes that fascinated Jotaro the most. Blue—no, almost purple— orbs stared back at him as the stranger’s face morphed into a warm, welcoming smile.

Shit, he was staring.

He was a strange guy to say the least. Not off-putting though, just strange.

“Sorry for just barging in on you again—” The redhead said, apologetically rubbing the back of his neck. He was either oblivious to how creepy Jotaro felt, or he chose to ignore it for the greater good. Nice going, red guy.

 “I guess I just wanted to repay you in a way— for helping me on Friday, I mean.” He began to chuckle briefly.

Repay him?

“I didn’t even do much.” Jotaro muttered. He leaned down with his lower arms on his knees, feeling a cool late summer breeze making its way over campus. His gaze shifted towards the other.

“So what?” The stranger leaned back nonchalantly, giving Jotaro another smile. “That doesn’t mean I didn’t appreciate it.” Swiftly he crossed his legs, looking up to the sky. “Not everyone decides to help a confused guy in the middle of the night, not here at least. That’s what my experience tells me anyway.”

Jotaro stopped for a second. What kind of assholes has he encountered to make him think that?

“It doesn’t have to be anything big, just lunch or something, for my good conscience.” He laughed. My god, what a laugh.

“Why would I take up your offer? I don’t even know your name.” Jotaro glanced over. One less question to have to worry about in the long run. And it’s not like he was being unreasonable here, right?

The redhead’s left hand moved to the back of his neck in an embarrassed fashion. “Oh. I forgot to tell you that one the last time, huh?” Another smile. Why did he smile so much?

“Noriaki Kakyoin.”

Japanese. Called it.

“Just call me Kakyoin.”

“Jotaro Kujo.” The dark-haired teen replied leaning back; clearly, he was more relaxed than before. “Now we’re even.”

“Oh, are you from Japan too?” Kakyoin’s voice rose as if he were surprised. Well, I don’t blame him.

“Yeah.”

“Should I call you Kujo-san then?”

“Nah. Jotaro is fine. I’ve lived here for so long I’ve gotten used to everyone calling me by my first name.”

A sliver of silence overcame the two. Not uncomfortable, per-se, but it seemed neither of them really knew what to say.

Well there were things both wanted to say, but not there, not now.

For a moment Jotaro felt an urge to walk away and just forget this had happened; like he ever could forget a voice like that. Maybe he—

“Did you really want to go to the concert?”

The words passed his lips without thinking.

Immediately Kakyoin began to laugh light-heartedly, giving Jotaro a bit of an amused, droopy look.

“That’s fair—” He sighed, his bangs swinging around as he chuckled. “Did I really look that out of place?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if you didn’t.” Jotaro smirked. In the sun, Kakyoin’s hair looked even more red than in the artificially lit lecture hall.

It was kind of fun to look at.

“Points for self-awareness though.”

“Much appreciated.” Kakyoin rested his hands on the wooden bench, careful to avoid the splintering paint as they watched other students pass by on their way to class.

Lazily, the redhead stretched his arms over his head. “To answer your question though, yes, I wanted to go.”

Jotaro subtly raised an eyebrow. Kakyoin laughed.

“I know, I know, it seems weird, but let me explain myself.” He paused, giving the other an accusatory look. “I’m actually a pianist.”

“A pianist?”

Jotaro had expected a lot of things – an artist maybe, or something or other with computers (He didn’t know any other students who’d be eccentric enough to walk around like that at a concert.), but a pianist ?

Maybe he had hoped he would be a vocalist instead . Jotaro felt his clenched fist loosen . Maybe he should stop getting his hopes up.

“You mean you give concerts and stuff?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” The other paused. “Well, I used to, until recently.” Kakyoin smiled ruefully, looking down at his right hand. A white splint was wrapped carefully around his wrist, encasing almost the entire thumb. Somehow Jotaro felt guilty for not noticing it before. “I ripped a tendon in my left hand because of an accident, so I’m taking a semester off practicing to help it heal.”

For a shadow of a second, his eyes lost that gleam of curiosity, growing darker than before.

Jotaro tensed up. Seeing Kakyoin like that felt wrong somehow. He should say something.

“I—”

“It’s fine. I’ve come to terms with it.” Kakyoin broke his gaze away, looking back at the taller teen.

Of course.

“I had surgery two months ago, so it’s still weak.” The redhead's voice quivered. His left hand gripped his pants as if he was pleading that Jotaro wouldn’t question further .

“But I guess the time I can’t use to play classical music, I could use to try things I’ve always wanted to try. Listen to some other genres, attend concerts, that stuff, you know? I wanted to spend the time I gained from this whole situation. I’m lucky I’m left-handed.”

That elicited a smile from Jotaro.

“Is that much optimism even healthy?”

“Well, I’ve always liked rock music casually, and I have been listening to The Ripple for a while, so why not take the opportunity to see them live?”

“Definitely unhealthy. And who's ever heard of a classical pianist enjoying indie rock of all things?” Jotaro gave Kakyoin a smug glance. “I figured it was only Bach and Beethoven’s best that met your standards.”

Kakyoin began to laugh. “Oh, shut up, not all pianists are like that— plus, you’re changing the subject!”

His smile was wide, honest.

He was relaxing.

Somehow that made Jotaro feel better.

“Anyways, why were you there? At the concert I mean.”

Jotaro turned back towards the redhead, seeing the life return to his eyes, then paused for a second.

“Obligation.” He said, briefly tugging at his cap.

A short bout of quiet passed, one throwing questioning glances at the other.

“Obligation?” Kakyoin asked, a tone of disbelief in his voice. Jotaro sighed again and leaned forward, making the small chain around the collar of his jacket jingle. Here we go again.

“You know Joseph? The drummer?”

Kakyoin nodded, humming as he did. “Sure, of course I do! Any self-respecting Ripple fan does!”

“He’s my cousin.”

Kakyoin froze for a moment, eyes wide.

“He’s your cousin ?!”

Jotaro just shrugged.

“Jotaro. You are kidding me.”

“No.”

The redhead looked at him once, then at a tree in the distance, then rested his head on his hands, looking back at Jotaro, visibly in distress. The latter tugged on his cap.

“Can I go on or do you need a second?”

Kakyoin shook his head, slowly. Jotaro smirked.

He was genuinely surprised, huh?

“He wants me and my band to attend their gigs because he got his boyfriend’s family to give us a discount at the studio they own.” Jotaro sighed, rolling his eyes. “So, unless I want to pay full price for our practice room rent, I have to be there almost every Friday night.”

“First of all— harsh.” The redhead mumbled after a while of trying to process what he’d just been told. “Second— you have a band?”

“Yeah.” The tall teen closed his eyes, crossing his arms behind his head as he rested his back onto the wood. “I’m the lead guitarist. Well, the only guitarist anyways.”

“Really?” Kakyoin’s eyebrows furrowed, but he kept gazing at Jotaro with an intense curiosity. “That’s interesting. I kind of guessed you’d play the bass if anything.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you just seemed edgy like that when I first saw you. Smoking against a wall in front of a music club—”

Edgy. Jotaro mentally cracked up. He hadn’t been called edgy since high school.

The black-haired teen stifled a laugh, or at least tried to, failing to repress a stupid wide grin and a sick sounding half-laughing, half-coughing noise.

I probably sound like a dying walrus.

From the corner of his eye he saw how Kakyoin started to grin sheepishly. “What, am I wrong?”

“That’s fair.” Jotaro said, getting a grip of himself after a hot second had passed. “I said you looked weird, you called me edgy; we’re even.”

“For now.” The redhead chuckled, giving Jotaro a sly smile. “So, do you make music similar to The Ripple’s? What kind of stuff do you play?”

“Well, we don’t do the kind of synth-hard-rock amalgamation thing they do. It’s kind of comparable, but if I had to describe it more clearly it would be—”

Bzzt. Bzzt. The sound of a phone vibrating broke their train of conversation.

Jotaro patted down his pockets. It wasn’t his; the only notifications he had were a few unread texts from Polnareff and the “Do Not Disturb” bubble he just couldn’t seem to get rid of, as usual.

Kakyoin, however, froze and looked at the screen with wide eyes.

“Shit.”

The other teen couldn’t see what it was, but it definitely put the redhead into a much more stressed mood than before, judging by his furrowed brows when he checked the time.

“I’m really sorry, I have to go—”

Quickly he stuffed the phone back into his pocket, looking at Jotaro apologetically.

“Art Class.”

“Ah.” So he was an art student after all.

For a moment Kakyoin paused, then pulled out a notebook from his bag, scribbled some number combination on it, then practically shoved the ripped scrap of paper into the others’ hands.

Did he just give me his number?

“I’m serious about repaying you though, and I’d love to hear more about your band. Just—” A fleeting smile came to his lips.

“I’m free after practice today.” Jotaro muttered, looking off to the side. Kakyoin’s smile was now even wider.

Why was he agreeing to this?

“Great! Text me the details.” Swiftly, the lanky redhead grabbed his bag and quickly started heading back to the liberal arts building. “I’ll see you later, Jotaro!”

“Yeah, I’ll see ya later, Kakyoin.”

For a little bit, he just watched him take off, letting his gaze wander until he leaned back on the bench one last time.

He’d just gotten his number. He should drop it here.

He sighed, stuffed it into his pocket, and started walking the asphalt path in no particular direction.

Then again, he seemed interested in our music. And he was surprisingly easy to talk to.

  Lost in thought, he kicked a pebble off the path, ignoring a warm feeling in his chest as he grinned.

Seemed like he wouldn’t be rid of that strange pianist anytime soon.

Chapter Text

Exhausted, the black-haired teen let himself fall onto soft, blue cotton sheets.

Jotaro didn’t have the energy to cook; not now, after a day of long, arduous lectures, weird encounters and pandering to his own consciousness to please pay attention . On his counter, the tasteless broth of some cup ramen— whose flavour he couldn’t really define— blew clouds of faint steam up into the air.

With the curtains drawn closed, the faint blue aquarium lights were all that illuminated the room. Occasional shadows speckled the white, almost gray drywall when the dwelling fish passed them in their elegant movements. An old playlist of Japanese rock songs that he must have made sometime in his freshman year when they first moved played over his Bluetooth speaker, making the silence less deafening.

Jotaro sighed, laying one arm over his face as he let himself sink deeper into his mattress.

Oh yeah, they still had practice today.

He couldn’t help but groan at the thought.

Usually it wasn’t this bad, usually it was the part of the day he looked forward to, but the longer the search for band member four went on, the more pressure he felt growing on himself. Avdol and Pol weren’t the only ones annoyed by their lack of vocals. Just thinking about the dusty binder with lyrics way in the back of the yet-to-be unpacked boxes in the corner made him feel sick.

They’d all gotten their hopes up too soon. Of course, things wouldn’t work out the way they wanted them to immediately, but if even the thing that usually helped him relax didn’t work, then what was the point? He should be doing more , trying harder, not wallowing in self-pity .

Hell, he was at a point where he hoped random people he met would just turn out to be singers by a whim of fate.

Fingernails dug into his palm.

Maybe he should call his family before going out for practice.

It had been a while since he’d last talked to Holly or Jolyne, and God knows he needed it just as much as they probably did. Going to college— away from Holly and living by himself— had probably been one of the hardest decisions he’d ever made. As much as his younger self would have denied it, he missed her constant bouts of overbearing, a lot. The apartment seemed a lot quieter than their home ever did, even if it was just the three of them, a tank of yellow tangs and soap operas on TV. Especially when things weren’t going as planned, his mom always had his back, no matter what kind of troubled shit his delinquent-self got caught up in. Or when he was just not feeling well, and his little sisters stories about the shit she got up to were always there to distract him when he needed it.

I wonder how they are doing.

Groaning, Jotaro shifted, pushing himself up as best as he could to lean against the wall.

Muffled vibrations from his phone were what finally drew his attention away from his inner monologue. He patted through the sheets until he got a hold of the illuminated screen, too bright for his eyes that had adjusted to the dark.

He should get going.

After the door clacked closed, all that remained in Jotaros dark room was a cold cup of instant ramen on the counter.

He’d call them later.

For the first time in ages, Kakyoin was glad he had put on something casual instead of the usual formal get-up. If he were standing there on the path to the studio in anything but a hoodie and jeans he would die, immediately, because he’d get even weirder looks than he had that night.

And even then, that night it was only Jotaro and he could feel his insides flipping over.

The tall redhead took a deep breath as he waited for the lights to turn green, gaze fixed to posters of various bands covering the front of the opposing building.

Come on Noriaki, get your shit together.

Usually he wouldn’t have acted that way.

It had taken all the courage he had to actually take the step outside, force his feet to the Air Supplena and attend the concert that night— or try to, anyway. When he had to ask for help, the relaxed façade he’d put up was the only thing he could cling onto to carry the conversation.

Yet somehow it worked. And somehow the tall, menacing guy with that silly hat seemed okay with talking to him. And somehow, he’d given his number to that guy after seeing him leave music theory and he’d somehow invited him to spend time together. And somehow, he was standing at the light in front of the studio next to that live music cub, the studio Jotaro was in, and was about to meet him again. And he was okay with that. He wanted to go (even though he was nervous as all hell.)

He was making progress again, being himself again, and Kakyoin couldn’t help but smile to himself for that.

“Um, the light is green, man.”

Kakyoin flinched as a guy with a backpack walked past him giving him a confused look.

“R-right.”

... but there was still a lot of room for improvement.

The studio was much more welcoming on the inside than the barren outside made it out to be. Red carpet and hardwood floors, framed records hung on the wall in slim, golden frames, dark metal and wooden furniture contrasted with the poster covered glass doors and concrete walls of the building. It felt warm when he stepped inside, almost homely. Only the faintest sounds from an adjacent hallway gave away that people were playing music at all.

Carefully Kakyoin closed the door.

The pleasant atmosphere was broken briefly by what sounded like a cup falling down in a room behind the counter. Quick footsteps, something that sounded like Italian in an aggressive tone and porcelain resounding after being set down were followed by a young blonde woman peeking out.

“Oh, hey there!” Swiftly she stepped out, making a few strands of hair fall out of her wildly styled bangs. The rest of her hair fell just below her shoulders, partially hidden away by a colourful headband of sorts. She smiled apologetically. “Sorry for the wait, what can I help you with?”

“Oh, I’m just waiting for someone to finish—” Kakyoin muttered quickly.

“Aaah, you must be that guy Joot mentioned!” She grinned, leaning down on the counter with her elbows. “Kakyoin, right? Please tell me I got that name right.”

Joot. Is that some sort of nickname for Jotaro? It was… cuter than he’d anticipated.

Quickly the tall teen nodded, making the blonde grin triumphantly.

“Ha! Now Pol owes me a drink!”

“Huh? Why?” And who’s Pol?

“We made a bet; he said Joot would never bring anyone in with him, like, ever , but you just proved him wrong~”

The woman quickly grabbed her phone, typing something as she spoke. “Usually he gets annoyed with others pretty easily, so he doesn’t have a lot of people around him.” She shrugged. “I mean, I was actually banking on an event later this year, but as long as it happened, it happened!”

She laughed light-heartedly. “I guess I should thank you for that, or rather for my free drink!”

Kakyoin couldn’t help smiling along. Just where did she get all that energy from?

“Do you know how long they’re gonna be?” The redhead asked, fumbling with the cables of his headphones in his hoodies pocket in an attempt to untie a knot.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry, they’re almost done, I think Star Plat’s in one of the practice rooms.” The woman answered quickly, nodding and pointing towards the hallway.

“You can’t miss ‘em once you look through the glass part of the doors. There’s a sofa too, so you can wait on there if you wanna.”

Star Plat? Probably short for Star Platinum, at least that’s what he remembered their name being.

“Thank you, Miss.” Kakyoin said quickly, realizing too late he’d called someone around his age “miss.”

He could feel his heart drop. It had gone so well up until now— but the woman only grinned in response.

“No need to call me miss! Just call me Suzi! Friends of Joot’s are friends of mine!”

Suzi laughed and gave him a friendly wink before returning to what was presumably a break room, cursing quietly when she noticed some coffee had pooled up on the tiles. Kakyoin sighed in relief.

Wait, Suzi as in The Ripple’s bassist and synth player? Nah, that couldn’t be. The Ripple’s Suzi wouldn't walk around like an early 2000’s Bratz doll.

A warm feeling flooded his chest when he realized she’d called him a friend of Jotaro’s.

Walking down the creaking hallway floors, he could begin to feel the vibrations of amplified bass and drums. As faint as they were, it made the redhead’s heart skip a beat.

He’d never been to any kind of performance that wasn’t arranged for piano, orchestra or woodwind instruments. As a pianist, that was just the kind of world he was exposed to; people in their best clothes gathered in neat rows, giving all their attention to the classic sound in an environment made for an opulent display of trained talent. This felt different somehow.

Silently Kakyoin walked past some of the empty rooms, then stopped abruptly.

In there.

He recognised Jotaro’s silhouette immediately, even if the way he was standing there now, with a deep blue and purple guitar was an unfamiliar sight. Next to him a guy with silver, almost white hair was going all out on a drum set, though neither of them managed to completely overshadow the darker skinned man with a headband playing the bass in the corner.

He just stood there for a minute, watching curiously through the small window.

This was way different than the music he was used to, the world he was used to.

Soon he found himself sitting on the sofa, just listening to the small part of the melody that made it through the mostly soundproof room as he mindlessly scrolled through social media on his phone. It was fast, rushing, intense, but still all those different parts came together as one united sound.

Kakyoin smiled softly to himself.

Their sound felt… free.

Quietly he began to hum along. Faintly at first, then louder, following the part of the melody that he had remembered.

It was even more intriguing to listen to up close. Though the song was faint, it was like the vibrations passed through him into the hallway only to fade away slowly until there was nothing left to hear.

It was so full of life, yet almost seemed like a snapshot of time only he could ever experience that way.

In that moment, Kakyoin didn’t quite realise that the door had been opened, nor did he realise the way a certain black-haired teen’s eyes bore into him as his hums slowly faded.

“Uh, hey, Kakyoin.”

Chapter Text

“Okay, let’s go over this one more time, we’ve got to get it down before Friday.”

“Jeez, way to put pressure on a guy.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be pressured if you could actually play this part the way you’re supposed to, Polnareff.”

Full last name. Harsh.

Spinning ceiling-fan blades gently wafted the air of the small practice room around, yet the three inside barely took the chance to catch a breath. If he’d still been a beginner, Jotaro’s fingers would probably be hurting like all hell by this point. Sweat ran down their faces, and half-empty water bottles littered the dark laminate floor.

A breath in, a breath out.

“As if you could do yours any better.” Polnareff muttered with a pout, stretching his arms over his head. The small manbun he wore his hair in was close to falling apart, but he didn’t particularly seem to care a lot, not now at least. He certainly would later, that’s one thing Jotaro could be sure of.

“Just one more go; I’ll get you something from the vending machine after if you actually manage to not fuck up for once.” Avdol sighed, setting down his own near-empty bottle next to one of the amplifiers connected to his bass. “We have to get the second verse right at least one consecutive time if we’re going to try and perform this and not die on stage.”

The tall Egyptian gave Polnareff an expectant look. The Frenchman groaned, bent over, and haphazardly tried picking up his drumsticks without having to use the energy to get up again. He was clearly full of motivation, causing Avdol to give him a tired smile.

“I want a cherry cola when we’re done with this.” He groaned and finally heaved himself into a somewhat upright position.

Jotaro rolled his eyes, noticing a hint of upturned lips on the Frenchman’s face. That’s what he’d wanted all along, huh? Lazy bastard. Not that Jotaro himself was too keen on playing the same riff over and over and over, but sometimes you just have to suffer to get results.

Over the course of practice Jotaro had taken off his hat and jacket, leaving them sitting uselessly on the mostly clean floor. He took a last sip of water before setting down his bottle. “Alright, ‘Hanged Man’ one more time, then we’ve got to get packing or Suzie will give us hell, again .”

“Anything but that, please.” Polnareff muttered to himself. “She may be small, but mon dieu that girl can YELL at a guy.”

“Her angry Italian is scarier than your drunk French.” Avdol laughed. “Oh yeah, Jotaro, didn’t you have someone coming over?” The Egyptian mentioned offhandedly, readjusting the strap on his bass a little to relieve the strain on his shoulders. “You might wanna check if they’re already there. We have overstayed our welcome a little, after all. Wouldn’t surprise me if they’re waiting outside.”

Shit. He’d totally forgotten that Kakyoin was coming over.

Quickly, he threw a glance at his reflection in the doors glass. He looked like a mess and a half. Great look for getting food with a guy he’d only met twice. Amazing foresight there, shithead; what’s next, having to ask him for deodorant? Maybe borrowing his brush for the crow’s nest that is your hair? Like being an inconsiderate ass wasn’t enough already.

“You were serious about that?!” Polnareff tried, and failed, to hold back a laugh as he leaned forwards to give Jotaro a look of disbelief. “You’re bringing a girl?”

“A guy I met last Friday.” He replied, quickly running a hand over the top of his head. Maybe he’d forgotten to take his comb out of the guitar case’s pocket, hopefully it was still there.

“Oh my god, you are serious, aren’t you? I’m gonna lose that stupid bet to Suzie.” The tall Frenchman whined, holding his forehead in his hands.

“You brought that onto yourself, Pol.” Avdol grinned, stifling a laugh.

“Oh, shut up, Mohammad.” Polnareff rolled his eyes after giving the bassist a glare. “I never took you to be a guy to just go on dates with guys you met less than a week ago, much less bringing them to band practice though, Jotaro. Good for you-”

“Give me a damn break,” Jotaro groaned, setting down his guitar in its stand. “It’s not a goddamn date, he just wanted to repay me for helping him or whatever. It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh, is it now—”

“Yes, it isn’t. And now fuck off already,” Jotaro growled back, picking up his hat from the wooden floor. He chose to ignore Avdol’s admittedly smug grin, and the embarrassed heat on his cheeks.

 “Worry about keeping the beat in that section more than who I’m going out for food with.”

“Ooooh, going out you say? That sounds like a date to—”

An empty bottle hit Polnareff’s forehead, falling to the ground with a hollow bonk.

“AH!”

Avdol broke into a fit of hearty laughter when the drummer yelped in surprise. The dark-haired teen only rolled his eyes and adjusted up his cap.

Idiots, both of them.

Shortly after, Jotaro went to open the door.

He didn’t notice it at first, just saw Kakyoin leniently sitting on the sofa, head lowered to look at whatever it was that played on his smartphone, unbandaged fingers tapping as if playing invisible piano keys. But then, after a second or maybe two, he heard it.

That soft, quiet voice, humming, barely noticeable, even in the quiet of the studio’s hallway.

It was his melody,

In his voice.

It was at that moment that Jotaro’s stoic face crumbled, for just a second.

His melody —

He couldn’t quite describe the way it sounded.

But it wasn’t like anything he’d ever heard his music sound like.

If their usual sound was bold and brash, this was rich and deep— not deep in tone, but deep in resonance and meaning.

And he was only humming.

Fuck, he was only humming.

The black-haired teen clenched his hand into a fist, transfixed on the melody echoing ever so lightly in the hallway. His heart started beating painfully fast.

Get a grip Jotaro. Stop it. You’re probably creeping him out just standing there like that. What kind of impression does that make on people?! You’ve already kept him waiting. Christ, Say something, anything —

“Uh, hey, Kakyoin.”

Immediately he wanted to hit his head into the nearest wall and keep it stuck there, for the rest of eternity maybe, or until he died. Maybe both. Maybe he hadn’t wanted him to stop.

“Hm? Oh, Jotaro! Are you done with practice?”

Kakyoin’s head jerked up immediately when he noticed he was being spoken to, making his ‘hair noodle’ (as Jotaro had mentally dubbed it) swing, or rather bounce, around. He was smiling, which formed small wrinkles around his eyes, oblivious to the marathon that Jotaro’s mind was running in that moment.

He hadn’t noticed. You didn’t seem like an idiot. Okay. Good. Right. Nice. Play it cool, this is fine. It’s all gonna be fine.

“Pretty much. Can you wait another five?” He spoke too fast. Shit .

“Sure, are you fine with Italian food by the way? I know this place a couple of blocks from here.”

“Alrighty then, see you on Friday, Joot! You too, Kakyoin! Have fun!”

Suzi grinned, giving them a quick wave as the studio's heavy door fell shut behind them, concealing the befuddled look on Polnareff’s face behind layers of glass and posters. It had gotten cooler outside; the sun was just about ready to set, giving the streets a warm orange glow as the light reflected off the windows of nearby buildings. A cool evening breeze swirled in-between the lampposts and gently wafted through their hair as Jotaro and Kakyoin walked along the sidewalk. Slowly but surely the first street lights flickered on.

“So, is Joot some kind of nickname?” Kakyoin asked. He’d lodged his hands in his hoodie’s pocket, giving Jotaro a cheeky smile. At least he’d calmed down enough to talk like a normal person at this point.

“Like hell it is.” Jotaro readjusted the strap on his guitar case, closed his eyes and sighed. “Stupid nicknames are Joseph’s thing. He just roped me into it.” He glanced back at the redhead next to him, who was currently trying his best to conceal an amused smile. “Although I can’t blame him for it entirely . My oldest cousin Jonathan started it.”

“How come?”

“Apparently when he was a kid people called him Jojo, because of the whole Jo-nathan Jo-estar thing?” He scoffed. “Joseph got wind of it when an old friend of Jonathan’s, Speed- something was visiting them, I guess , and then that asshat decided he’d give everyone in the family some kind of nickname like that. You know, because he thinks that kind of shit is funny or cute or whatever. Don’t ask me why the rest of my family goes along with it.”

Kakyoin stifled another smirk, leaving Jotaro to continue a much-needed rant. “So now he wants us to call him Jiji, my little sister is stuck with Joly and my designated nickname is Joot.” He sighed, tugging at his cap. “Suzi got it from Joseph, everyone else got it from her— and I’m the one that has to bear the consequences for this whole shitty idea with me. It’s a curse.”

“Rest in peace Jotaro’s dignity.” Kakyoin laughed. “I think it sounds kind of cute though.” Jotaro rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his neck. “Not misleading at all.” Kakyoin called him cute. Do you just call people cute?

Kakyoin didn’t seem to think as much about it. “Also, you have a sister?”

Jotaro nodded, kicking a cigarette stump off the sidewalk. “Yeah, her name’s Jolyne. She lives back at home with my mom.” When he saw Kakyoin's gaze softening a little he started to smirk. “She’s the reason I started playing the guitar, wouldn’t stop bugging me about it because she wanted to be a singer when she was a kid and needed a background performer.”

“That’s kind of sweet, actually.” The redhead chuckled, giving the taller teen a fleeting smile. “I don’t have any siblings, so I guess I never had to go through that kind of thing.”

“Lucky.” Jotaro replied with an amused roll of his eyes, putting his hands into his jacket’s pockets. “In the end she never did become a singer, only stole my guitar every so often before I moved for college to impress some girl she liked.”

“Let me guess, it didn’t work?"

“Not the way she wanted it to anyways.” He chuckled. “She caught some weird guys’ attention instead and now he’s not leaving her alone.”

The redhead started to snicker, seeing him like that made Jotaro feel… warm . 

“The irony of fate~ —Oh, speaking of music. I heard a bit of the song you guys were playing back at the studio, in the hallway,” Kakyoin mentioned, tugging at the strap of his bag. Immediately Jotaro’s hands started fidgeting with the fabric inside his pockets.

He’d heard them, and hummed along. “You did? Guess the practice rooms aren’t entirely soundproof.” But that didn’t mean Kakyoin enjoyed it at all.

“I guess, but you guys were really good!”

 He liked it. He said he liked it.

“Is it just the three of you?” The redhead continued, looking back at Jotaro with a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes as he searched for the other’s gaze. “Or are there more members I should know about?”

“Just Pol, Avdol and I, though we’re looking for a fourth one.” The dark-haired teen replied with the redhead behind his back as they approached the door of their chosen diner. “Seriously, it’s harder than you might think to find a decent vocalist.”

That gained an amused chuckle from Kakyoin. “Is it?” Jotaro nodded. God knows he was about to do something stupid.

Although… No, he shouldn’t. He’d only really met him properly today; it would be weird. He should wait for a while, get to know him better —

“Hey Kakyoin...” He got a hold of the door handle. His eyes met the others’ as he glanced over his shoulder. No, stop thinking about it.

“Yeah, what is it?” His voice may be amazing, but you barely even know him. Stop it while you still can; you’re making a mistake. Don’t mess up again —

His grip on the handle tightened, knuckles turning white.

“Do you sing?”

Chapter Text

“Huh?”

Shit, shit, you ruined it. Abort mission, jump into the nearest lifeboat and abandon ship. Turn around, get to the nearest graveyard and dig a grave your size. Remember to tell Jolyne where you hid that Jimi Hendrix album she always wanted from you, say sorry to mom for causing so much trouble as a teen and drive off into the sunset never to be seen again.

“Never mind.” He muttered quickly, ripping open the door to the diner and walking in. “Your voice just gave me the impression that-”

“Oh, its fine, I-”

“I know it’s a weird question to ask.”

“No don’t worry about it, Jotaro.”

Silence overcame the diner’s entrance. Silence kept a tight grip on them until they picked one of those corner tables with comfortable couch seats that had been worn down enough to be comfortable regardless of who sat on them, but not worn down enough to be practically sitting on wood. Silence persisted until they ordered.

Say something Jotaro. You accepted his invitation and made it awkward. Might as well try and fix this mess.

“So, uh.”

“I do.” Kakyoin laughed, leaning on his elbows for support.

Jotaro froze.

“I sing. Granted, it’s more of a hobby I picked up on next to playing the piano, but yeah, I do.”

For a second Jotaro just sat there, blinking back at the other teen, expressionless, which prompted another small fit of laughter from the latter. “I don’t know why you’re getting so defensive over it, it’s fine. I’m flattered, honestly.”

Finally, the dark-haired teen could feel himself moving again. “Right, sorry.” He paused. It was fine, this was fine, he hadn’t made a mistake. He let himself breathe for a second. Somewhere along the lines he must have started fidgeting around with one of the star shaped studs in his ears and let his attention drift, because he could feel Kakyoin giving it a bemused glance.

“Worry about your own cherry looking earrings.”

The bemused glance quickly turned into a full-on giggle from the redhead. In a way Jotaro felt compelled to do the same. Did he always have those wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled, or did he just not notice them before? Slowly the tension fell off his shoulders.

Grinning sheepishly Kakyoin leaned back into the red backrest, making his earrings swing around playfully.

“So, why did you ask? About me singing.” He raised an eyebrow as if he were in a cartoon of some sort, eliciting a smirk from Jotaro.

“I heard you humming in the hallway back at the studio.”

From one second to the next Kakyoins grin disappeared, replaced by a bright red flush across his face. “Oh no. You- you heard that?” Subconsciously he began fidgeting with his earrings, slouching over to hide what by now amounted to a deep blush.

Now look who’s getting all embarrassed and nervous. Jotaro felt his eyebrow twitch in a fit of self-righteous smugness.

“Yeah. But even before that it just kind of struck me as a singers voice.” He rolled his eyes in amusement and readjusted the position of his guitar case against the seats. If you looked closely, you could see patches and little pins from all sorts of bands on the sturdy black fabric, the surface reflecting the light of old yellow lamps.

“It would’ve been a shame if that potential was wasted.” His voice was calm, but not stoic.

He’d finally calmed down after that disaster of a conversation starter. Though what he was saying he meant earnestly. A voice like that on a pianist that didn’t sing would have been a loss for music in all the meanings of the word, not just for him. Jotaro turned back to look at a seemingly very surprised Kakyoin.

His strangely coloured eyes had widened, if in shock or because he was touched Jotaro couldn’t quite pinpoint; All he could say was that him enjoying his singing was something the other hadn’t anticipated, judging by his studder anyways.

“I-, thank you.” He finally muttered, getting himself to sit straight again and taking a deep breath.

“I was honestly expecting something worse-” The redhead admitted, glancing over at his bandaged hand for the fraction of a second before looking back at Jotaro.

“I don’t usually sing in front of others. I’ve done it for a while, but since I’m a pianist and all I don’t usually find time to do it so liberally. It distracts me from what my teachers and mother seem to want me to do.” Kakyoin quickly pulled on one of the strings of his hoodie to even them out, like a fish out of water trying to find the nearest puddle, desperately trying to make reason of the situation.

“Good grief-” Jotaro muttered. “What you’ve got is talent, Kakyoin. Don’t downplay yourself. Honestly, some people practice their whole lives to achieve that level. I can tell that, and I’ve only ever heard you hum.” The dark-haired teens gaze narrowed, intense eyes staring back at his own. “I’m being dead serious. You shouldn’t let it waste away.”

Kakyoin’s gaze averted from Jotaro’s; cheeks still dusted a light pink.

“What are you getting at, Mister ‘looking for a new band member’?”  As he turned back Kakyoins flustered face quickly turned into a condescending one, though he couldn’t quite bring his voice not to sound grateful.

He’s been found out.

“You know, flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“That wasn’t what I was aiming for, smartass.” Jotaro shot back, rolling his eyes, which gained him a smirk from Kakyoin. “I mean what I said, and I know you won’t just join a band you’ve never heard except for in the studio hallway when you get asked by a guy you’ve only really met twice.”

He folded his hands onto the tabletop.

“But I know you want to go to the Ripple’s concert on Friday.” A pause, an expectant glance from Kakyoin. “And I know that Star Platinum will be opening for them.”

“Go on.”

“I’m just saying that maybe seeing us in action will change your mind.” Jotaro leaned back again, crossing his arms behind his head, both resting on the soft fabric of the seat.

“I’m not saying I’m not interested, but I am first and foremost still a pianist, Jotaro.” Kakyoin sighed, his fingers playing around with the splint on his right hand, eyes dull. “I’m not sure if I’ll really have the time to commit to it once my hand is healed.”

Oh right. That.

“Just make your decision after you’ve heard us play. In case you’re still interested you could still just sit in on some rehearsals or something; If you can’t or don’t want to it’s no big deal either.”

 Jotaro said calmly. He’d love to hear him sing again.  Hell, just hearing him hum his melodies had sent shivers down his spine - but Kakyoin was still his own person, and should make his own decisions, for his own good. He smiled. Even if that meant he might not do what Jotaro so badly wanted him to, Freddy Mercury moment be damned.

Kakyoin smiled again, raising an eyebrow playfully. “I’ll think about it.” He paused for a second, his hands fiddling with one of his earrings until they suddenly stopped. Expectant gazes met one another.

“How about this: I’ll be seeing you guys perform on Friday no matter what, right?  If you impress me enough to really make an impression beyond what I’ve already see- heard in the studio I will join Star Platinum-” Kakyoins smile widened. “- with the condition that you attend a performance of mine when my hand is fully healed again.” His eyes gleamed, filled with a mixture of mischievous enjoyment and genuine curiosity. It must feel like some kind of fun game to him. “Do we have a deal?”

He said he’d think about it though. He seemed serious enough, and now he had an actual chance to make him part of his band, to fill that long vacant void in the line-up, with a voice like his- And Jotaro smiled.

“Deal.”

As the evening progressed Jotaro sent a quick text to the Star Platinum group chat.

“Pol you better practice your ass off for Friday.”

Chapter Text

“’S this good Smokey?”
“Yup! Should be good enough, for your crowd anyways-”

“HEY! You take that BACK RIGHT NOW -”

“Make me, bri-ish man!”

Jotaro let out a defeated groan as he tried his best to focus on his guitars tuning. Emphasis on tried.

The hours before performances were always the busiest; not just because the staff, sound- and lighting crew were doing final adjustments and checking for (most) possible disturbances, but also because Joseph was riled up on the around three red bulls that he needed to keep up his energy during the concert. God knows he was a force of nature in this state.

Hot stage lights were already burning bright on the centre of the underground venue. Small baskets of armbands and a stamp-pad were being set up near the entrance while the barkeeper gave the counter a last wipe down or two; you could almost imagine how the hall would look once people were let in. An excited feeling made the musicians hearts beat faster.

Tonight, it was all or nothing for Star Platinum.

“Just leave him be, he’ll have to calm down eventually.” Suzi snickered after approaching Jotaro from behind, looming over the usually taller teen on the floor with a grin. You couldn’t make out any nervousness in her face if you tried. Lucky. “Plus, if he breaks anything again, we’ll see Caes’ go apeshit on him.”

“I guess, I still wish he’d shut the hell up though.” Jotaro muttered, giving the E-peg a last turn before gently placing the instrument back in its case. “He’s unbearable normally, but seeing him like this is even worse than having to take care of drunk Joseph.”

“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll be spared of Mr. Tequila tonight.” The blonde Italian smiled cheekily, plopping herself down next to the guitarist on the wooden stage and letting her legs dangle off the edge. “He’s designated driver today. Bless Caesar’s attitude, Pol’s disbelief and my free Bellini!”

Jotaro couldn’t help but smile at her antics.

Compared to other people it was quite easy to talk to Suzi sometimes. Sure, she could get on your nerves a lot when she wanted to, but she knew her boundaries, and respected his (unlike half the people in Jotaro’s life, apparently. He’d made his experiences with Polnareff, sadly.). It kind of reminded him of how easy conversations with Kakyoin were.

“Oh yeah, thanks for betting on my social skills by the way.” Jotaro tugged his cap deeper into his face, with a disgruntled sigh, trying to distract himself from the weird feeling in his chest. “Very sensitive of you there.”

To be honest he didn’t care that much, but not even Avdol could stop Pol’s moping over his loss this time around, which made practice even more nerve wrecking.

“You’re welcome big guy.” Suzi laughed, playfully punching his arm. “View it as… an encouragement? I didn’t think you’d get a boyfriend so early into the semester to be honest, but-”

“Hold up a second, who said anything about Kakyoin being my boyfriend.” Jotaro felt his face flush with an unfamiliar warmth as his entire body tensed up.

Was that really the vibe Suzi had gotten when she saw them together? He’d barely known him for a week! Sure, they’d been texting frequently and hang round each other after their music theory lectures a lot, but-

“We are nothing like that, Suzi. He’s just a friend of mine and a potential singer for our band. I hardly even know the guy.” He shot her a cold glare, well, as cold as he could glare when his face felt like it was burning off.

God, he must look like an idiot. Why would she say something like that?!

He had to change the subject, or divert it a little at least. Otherwise he wouldn’t hear the end of her teasing later into the night, or be able to look Kakyoin in the eyes.

“Speaking of, would you mind maybe coaching Kakyoin a little in case he does become our vocalist? He has an amazing voice, but he hasn’t ever taken singing classes or anything like that so he might need some advice and shit.”

Suzi gave a quick nod, though her eyes gleamed mischievously in the yellow light.

“Why not ask Caesar? He does leading-vocals for us after all.”

“Because as much as I respect him, he has Joseph to keep in check like, what, 24/7? Plus, I know how you coach and I think it’d work pretty well with Kakyoin.”

Suzi shrugged. “Sure thing then. I only do backup vocals, but I could at least give him some warm up stuff, breathing, you know, the things I taught you before you gave up on the whole singing thing?” The blonde laughed, raising an eyebrow playfully and gave Jotaro a shove with her elbow teasingly. “Though it’s a shame you don’t view him that way. You two would be real cute together, you know. I bet your voices would harmonize well too~”

“Suzie Quatro will you-”

“Hey Jotaro, come over here for a second! We wanted to go over the song order one last time!”

Thank god for Mohammed Avdol. Thank god that he saved him from wherever this conversation was going.

“Oh, Joot, remind Pol of his debt to me, will ya? I am not going home sober!” Suzi laughed light-heartedly as Jotaro took off towards his own band, grabbing his guitar case and taking a few deep breaths to cool off mentally. Thank you SO MUCH.

Polnareff gave the taller teen a confused look as he hurried over, cap deep in his face. “Jotaro? Why are you running like that? You look like hell- What was that conversation with Suz even about?”

Come on, concentrate. People will be let in in like 10 minutes. You have more important things to worry about than… that.

Jotaro sighed.

“Doesn’t matter. Avdol, you said something about the song order?”

Breathe, Noriaki. Just breathe. Things will be fine. You’re going to go out and have some fun, maybe meet some new people, get an impression of your possible future band mates. You’ve taken your meds, you know where to go, you’re gonna be on time. Just breathe and relax.

If Kakyoin had had to guess how long he’d been standing in front of the mirror of his (thankfully single) dorm room it would have been a lot longer than he thought he needed to prepare. The redhead let out a sigh, giving the alarm on his already cluttered desk a fleeting glance.

8:55pm. Great. Just great.

Hastily he grabbed a light denim jacket that hung from his bedpost and closed the creaking door behind him.

Gotta make sure not to be late this time around.

Truth be told, he might not have been this queasy if he’d gone to the show the week before. Going there not knowing anyone and leaving right after was certainly easier than this – but also way less exciting.

A warm smile came to his lips. Jotaro would be there, and he’d meet the rest of his band after the first break. Not to mention seeing one of his own favourites live for the first time.

Quickly the teen passed through the common area and stepped out of the building, greeted by slight flickers of streetlights, a soft breeze coming from the nearby sea and the sound of rubber soles on asphalt.

Thinking back to it, Monday seemed so long ago already.

Between his frequent chats with Jotaro and the many different classes he’d taken, he’d barely noticed how quickly time had passed him by. What was that saying again? Time flies when you have fun? Something like that.

Even then, he’d learned a few things about the other he hadn’t quite expected at first. When he first met the, by all accounts, intimidating, almost delinquent-like Jotaro he hadn’t imagined him having either a major as ‘harmless’ as marine biology, nor devoting the majority of his attention besides classes and his band being to an admittedly beautifully decorated tank of yellow tangs and other reef dwelling fish in his small apartment. The thought of such a wide man carefully placing marine fauna and little rocks between gravel and concaves similar to their natural habitat still seemed oddly cute to Kakyoin when he imagined it. He still had vivid memory of when Jotaro went on a bit of a rant about inexperienced fish-keepers buying blue tangs of all fish because of that one animated movie, completely disregarding that they tended to get illegally collected from reefs and that marine fish were ‘harder to keep anyways ’ so they should ‘keep their damn hands away from a species they couldn’t care well for for shit’.

 At least the big scary guy with a self-described ‘resting bitch face’ was passionate about his major. The redhead smiled to himself as he crossed the street. If I’m not careful he might make me a ‘fish person’ by the end of the year.

He swiftly turned a corner and saw them standing there.

9:15pm. There was a crowd. A rather big crowd. Well, as big as a crowd could get for a local live band, but for an inexperienced Kakyoin it may or may not have been a tad bit overwhelming.

Tall people, short people, some more punk than others, some decked out with The Ripple fan-shirts, some mostly normal, others with at least three different entry bands on each wrist, all slowly moving inside the building covered with flickering neon lights proudly displaying the establishments name; the only thing keeping them from rushing in was a foldable table and the buff looking man at the register.

For the hint of a second the redhead froze, his left hand in a painfully clenched fist. Come on Noriaki, you’ve faced much bigger crowds during your own concerts. The only difference is that you’re not onstage or on a cushy seat in some fancy concert hall. You came here to have fun so you sure as hell will have fun tonight. Now get your ass in line!

Five minutes passed, then ten. Slowly the line moved in synchronicity, Kakyoin in its dreadful middle, gaze fixed on his phone. Eventually there was a stamp on his hand, a followed by a quick “Over 18, under 21?”and pulling out his ID. A quick nod and a band was pushed over his wrist.

“You a first timer?”

Kakyoin nodded quickly. The man gave him a smirk as he nodded him off.

“Have fun, kid.”

If the crowd outside was big, then the one on the inside was gigantic. The smell of alcohol, sweat and a loud, omnipresent rumble of voices and footsteps already flooded the visitors’ senses. Dim yellow lamps were hanging from the ceiling and showered the entire venue in a warm but energetic light. Surrounding a lower area with concrete floors, where most people seemed to gather pre-emptively, was a sort of wooden platform with metal fencing, on which a few round, barrel-esque tables with high chairs were set. If you looked long enough it could almost remind you of an auditorium of sorts. Breaking the warm colours were only the bright cyan and purple coloured stage lights, which illuminated the back of the performance area, drawing extra attention to the spots the performers would eventually occupy. A projector just above the pit threw images of the performance times and band logos on a screen behind the instruments and a few large speakers that were already set on stage. Posters and framed autographs from various artists covered the dark brick walls people leaned on to talk.

A rush of excitement overcame him as Kakyoin just stood there, observing his surroundings.

Forgotten was the nervousness from before, the uncertainty – no, there was none of that. He was here, and he would have fun, damnit!

Carefully the redhead started making his way through the noisy crowd, aiming for a spot by the railing. He should have a good view of the stage from there. Granted, a few things he could do without, the dense mass of bodies he had to navigate through for example, or the annoying voices drunkenly slurring what was probably supposed to be a ‘conversation’ being one of them.

“Oh, hey, look! They’re almost starting, aren’t they?”

“Oh yeah, looks like it - don’t they usually go on stage later though? I thought I could get another drink in before the concert.”

“Seems like they have an opening act today- it says they’re called ‘Star Platinum’, it’s on the timetable.”

Kakyoin let out a silent sigh. Please let them shut up during the performance at least.

“’Star Platinum’? Never heard of them before.”

“Me neither. Honestly, I don’t really think The Ripple needs an them to be the opening act, Joseph’s abs are opener enough for me at least.”

“Oh, shut UP you perverted-”

A sudden cheer from the pit and the aggressive rumble of a few notes finally saved Kakyoins brain from whatever that was that he was forced to listen to, breaking their train of conversation with its sheer and utter volume. He must have been so focused on drowning out the chatter around him, that he hadn’t noticed the lights on the wall dimming, strategically drawing the audience’s eyes to the colourfully lit centre of the room, or how tonight’s first performers ended up onstage.

The moment he saw Jotaro and the rest of the band his eyes were transfixed.

They were there, he was there- and Kakyoin felt his heart skip a beat.

Rhythmic drumming soon followed by a quick succession of harmonizing bass and guitar parts pulsated through the room, enrapturing the pit in a staccato of tempo matched steps.

The band itself was completely concentrating on their sound, every move of their hands, strum of a string was calculated and practiced, had mended its way into the players’ minds and was now released like a lion on an unsuspecting piece of prey. Riffs akin to old Green Day- no, older Guns ‘N Roses- or maybe even a bit of Foo Fighters practically forced the listeners to move along in one way or another. Like a wave their energy overtook the room.

Ruthless, full of energy, almost forcing the listener to let themselves go in the sound; but also intentionally joyful in a way any person would understand.

Kakyoin felt himself shiver in the sensation of it.

Their sound was even more overwhelming up close than back at the studio. The use of an effect pedal for the electric guitar and increased volume resonating through the venue- and even though it was in no way perfect (He could swear the rhythm was off in that section) all they seemed to be having SUCH genuine fun up there.

He clutched his left hand into a fist, his eyes fixed on the stage, and only the stage.  Subconciously he followed the guitars melodies with his hand. All the noises around him were forgotten. There were no more worries about the way he looked right now, no more worries about what kind of impression he would make, the crowd, the annoying people around him, his mother, no more worries about if his hand would ever heal right, if he was a disappointment, if he would ever be on a stage again; it was only the sound and him, and he was in awe.

This feeling, was it something you could get addicted to?

For a fraction of a second, he’d allowed himself to live, to exist in the moment, to let himself be absorbed in the sound wholly.

And for the fraction of a second his eyes met the ones of the guitarist on stage as the last chord of the song droned through the room.

For that fraction of a second, he felt warm, and he felt okay.

And he let himself be.

And he felt himself smiling back at him.

“Hey Air Supplena! We’re Star Platinum and we’re here to kill it with our music! Thank you for having us!”

The warm feeling lingered in his chest.

Maybe this would be the change that he needed.

Chapter Text

“I think a toast is in order!” Polnareff’s bellowing laughter echoed relentlessly through the dining hall. Without even flinching Jotaro slapped the back of his neck. “Give me a goddamn- could you be any louder? Shut up for one second! You’re damn annoying!” Avdol only rolled his eyes and pushed a glass of some sugary soda with ice cubes in a very tired Kakyoins direction.

“Don’t worry, they’re not always like that.” He paused, glancing back at the other two who were this close to lunging at each other’s necks. “Well- it’s not that rare either.”

The Egyptian gave him an apologetic smile as Kakyoin just slowly, slowly sucked on the straw in his drink.

“You get used to it eventually.”

Slooowly.

It was Saturday, 12-something pm, and by all accounts, Kakyoin was not meant to be awake yet. The concert was absolutely great, the opening song was still stuck in his head, nudged deep into some corner of his memory next to all the useless facts he’d force-fed himself off of Wikipedia when he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t remember how long he’d stayed up the night prior if he tried, but judging by the amount of concealer he’d needed to cover those disgusting eyebags on his face he could tell that past-Noriaki had definitely not thought about future-Noriaki’s morning regrets. At least he had thought about it less than he’d tried to keep up with the rest of the band when they first met last night.

Slowly he lifted his head little by little, and slowly, oh so slowly muttered a slurred “’s okay”.

They were supposed to be “celebrating” Kakyoin’s decision to join the band the night prior.

They probably would have gone out to a fancier place if their budget allowed it; but among all the haze of late-night events, performances and stage lights it was apparently very easy to forget that all, now four, official members of the grand elusive Star Platinum were broke college students with a fully purchased meal plan saved on their student ID’s. So, what should, in Polnareff’s words have been a “celebration to match the gods” turned out to be mediocre cafeteria lunch on the same old plastic chairs as always with a singular, bright green party hat strapped asymmetrically on the redhead’s head. Kakyoin, though he was nearly slumped over on the table and probably looked like a rat straight out of the sewers, appreciated the effort.

“Just give them a few minutes. They’re gonna figure out that neither of us is listening to them sooner or later.” Avdol chuckled, taking a bite of what looked like some kind of couscous salad. Kakyoin only rolled his eyes in amusement, leaning down on his arms.

“I guess so. They seem a bit exhausting. I’m surprised you’ve survived them by yourself for so long.”

“To be honest, so am I. I have some younger siblings but they’re not nearly as chaotic or vengeful as these two can be.”

Kakyoin allowed himself to laugh. “I can see that.”

“Just don’t get on Jotaro’s bad side on a bad day like Pol seems to have a talent to, and you should be fine.” The Egyptian sighed and flicked his finger at Polnareff’s cheek.

“Ow. That hurt.” The Frenchman shoved his elbow into the others’ side.

“If you two are finished being children can we finally get to why we even met up in the first place?”

Polnareff’s pout quickly turned into a very mischievous grin.

“Like you’re any less childish than us! I remember last Saturday very well Mo. The way you fiercely insisted on adopting those three chickens after-”

Immediately Avdol tensed up. “I thought we agreed to never bring that up again.”

“Oh, did we now-”

Kakyoin felt himself slip deeper into his seat.

So far, he’d learned two things about the group dynamic.

One, Polnareff was very good at getting on everyone’s nerves, including his own; and two, most of them were just as high energy off-stage as they were on stage.

This would be a lot more chaotic than his solo acts, wouldn’t it?

“I would prefer to keep some level of respect for you guys, but you’re making that very hard right now.” Kakyoin let out a sigh and gave Jotaro, who had resigned to looking at his phone, a pleading glance. He was too tired for this shit. The other quickly muttered something to himself as he tugged his cap (did he always wear it?) deeper into his face and sighed. With a bit of effort, the redhead finally managed to sit upright himself. Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen him without it. I wonder what his hair looks like uncovered. Finally, the taller teen gave Kakyoin a look that could only be interpreted as an ‘I’m sorry for them’ and leaned back in his chair.

Somehow the little gesture made him smile.

“Let’s get to the point already.” Jotaro’s stern voice was what finally broke up the bickering at the table. “We did have a few things to go over, didn’t we?”

Avdol, turning away from a clearly much too energetic Polnareff, leaned down on his lower arms. Golden hoops made a soft clanging noise. “Right.” It was only then that Kakyoin noticed the two faint scars running down the Egyptian’s face. I wonder where he got them from.

Jotaro turned towards the redhead, phone in hand. “I added you to the group chat yesterday, didn’t I?”

“If that group chat is currently called “area 51 gig” then yeah, you have.” Kakyoin rolled his eyes and smirked. Immediately Jotaro shot an ice-cold glare at Polnareff, who was very innocently nibbling on a carrot.

“Fucking- Polnareff I’m going to revoke your admin rights.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t test me.”

Silence befell the cafeteria table as Pol slumped back in defeat. “Fine, I’m not going to change the name into memes anymore. Ya happy?!”

“Very.” Avdol muttered with a sly grin and poked the others’ cheek. “Now stop wallowing in self-pity, will you.”

“Anyhow-” Jotaro groaned. “If anything important comes up, like the studio letting us in early or if we get gig opportunities, I usually send them in there. We also just chat in there sometimes.”

“Which is admittedly most of the time unless Pol forgets when practice is again.” Avdol said offhandedly.

“Guys I feel bullied.”

“As you should.” Kakyoin smiled sheepishly.

“YOU EVEN ROPED HIM INTO IT-”

Jotaro continued, not sparing a glance for Polnareff, who’d gone back to angrily eating his carrots. “Speaking of, practice is mostly on weekdays, so Monday, Wednesday through Thursday and sometimes on Saturdays. Never on Sundays though. Studio owners are catholic, so they close up shop then.”

Kakyoin, who was leaning on his hand by now, furrowed his brows.

“Why not Tuesday and Friday?”

Jotaro hummed, as if he’d just remembered. “They check up on the rooms once every week in case we break anything or things go out of order. Apparently, someone absolutely trashed their practice room once and then cancelled their contract, so the owners had to deal with a lot of shit.”

“Ah, that makes sense. I guess Fridays are free because you guys need to go the Air Supplena?”

“Exactly. Otherwise studio fees would suck our poor wallets dry.” Polnareff muttered, having finally calmed down a little.

“I tried working parallel to college and band for a while, but I was so exhausted by the end of the week- and the small amount of money I earned was next to nothing of what we’d have to pay for studio rent. Well, they are a professional recording studio after all.” The Frenchman sighed. “We have a deal with the owners though. We help in case anything gets broken in the practice rooms and clean up the studio at the end of the month and they charge us half. We even got lucky and get to use it for free this time.”

“-but you have to attend The Ripples gigs for that because Caesar arranged that for you.” The redhead muttered. “Exactly, plus it's nice to have a few designated study days. Makes ya worry less about assignments and that shit.” Pol grinned, clearly distracting from the fact that he was the type to procrastinate ‘til the last minute.

“You remembered all that?” Jotaro glanced over at Kakyoin who gave him a wide smile.

“Of course I did. I do listen to what you tell me, you know?” He let out a little laugh. Jotaro just tugged at his cap causing the other to smile even wider.

Can he even see anything with the brim so deep into his face? Was he embarrassed or something? Absentminded fingers tapped around on the table. It looked kind of cute.

Not thinking too much about it he turned back to the rest of the group.

“Anyways, practice times work for me-” He paused, thinking over his calendar in passing. “Mostly. I might not be able to make it some Wednesdays.”

“That’s oddly specific.” Pol mumbled, stirring around in his glass. “Why Wednesdays?”

“I, uh-”

Suddenly Kakyoins mouth felt dry. His throat stung, like it wanted him to stop in his tracks and turn back while he still could. The formerly friendly, attentive eyes at the table felt like they were stabbing him with their intensity.

Should they know? Did they need to know? It’s just an appointment. Everything had been fine the past few months, the majority of the time anyways. He wouldn’t be running out of meds anytime soon, and there haven’t been any… situations for a while now - But did he want to burden them with this? He hadn’t known them long, and who knew if they would even want him in the band if they knew. They must have their own worries anyhow-

His right hand felt a sting of cold was rushing through it, a thousand little icy needles piercing his skin, his throat. Was he staring at it? He must be staring at it. He wanted it to stop, oh god how he wanted it to stop. He shouldn’t have mentioned this to them-

Would they even want him anymore?

Without noticing Kakyoin had shifted in his seat, his left hand clenched into a subtle fist. “I-”

“It’s because of your hand, right? Didn’t you say something about regular check-ups?”

What?

Kakyoin looked at Jotaro next to him, amethyst eyes meeting turquoise.

What was he talking about?

He didn’t have check-ups that frequently anymore, and even if he did, he wouldn’t have told him about it in passing, would he? Not to mention check-ups were on Tuesdays.

Jotaro’s gaze was unwavering, his face as stoic as ever, but something about the way he looked at him in that moment made Kakyoin feel… safer?

Had he noticed him freezing up? Slowly his fist unclenched. Was he… covering for him?

“Y-yeah, exactly. It’s still not quite healed properly, so they check it once every two-or so weeks. I can’t exactly move those appointments, so I won’t be at practice then.” When Avdol nodded in understanding it felt like a weight was lifted from Kakyoins chest. Whether this was a coincidence or not, he couldn’t help but feel just a little thankful. He’d tell them when the time as right.

The rest of lunch went about without a hitch. Next to little discussions about studio fees, current performance offers and countless tangents about all kinds of topics from Polnareff’s growing collection of novelty earrings (clearly a man of taste in Kakyoin’s book) over the so bad it’s good rap music video by some guys calling themselves the “Oingo Boingo” brothers Avdol found after he accidentally left YouTube on autoplay last night (and the collective agreement to get an autograph if any one of them ever met one of them on the street), the redhead could really feel himself warming up to the chaotic energy around him. Without even noticing it, time had flown by with a smile on his face and he barely noticed the grogginess from before anymore.

“Well, I’ll get going then, these legs aren’t going to train themselves you know?”

“If you mention you’re going to the gym one more time I can and will make you run all the way there-”

“Come on, let him live Jotaro. He’ll have enough trouble outrunning me anyhow.”

“We’ll see if he survives ‘til Monday.”

Two sets of steps set off on their way, leaving Jotaro and Kakyoin standing in front of the cafeteria building, hair fluttering in a soft sea breeze.

“I guess I should head back to the dorms soon, gotta start working on an assignment for my modern art professor.”

Kakyoin muttered, partially to keep the conversation going, partially to remind himself, partially because he didn’t really want to mention the Wednesday thing, not now at least.

“Makes sense. I still need to finish reading up on that chapter for music theory.” Jotaro said as he leaned against the wall patting his jacket down for a box of cigarettes.

“Oh shit, I completely forgot about that one.”

The soft sounds of the wind were louder than their conversation by that point. Neither of them said a word as they started walking along the path towards the fountain in the middle of campus. Slow, simultaneous steps on the sidewalk followed the two as they walked next to each other.

“Hey, Kakyoin. I- fuck this is going to sound so weird-”

Jotaro’s voice was lower than before, quieter. Not quite a whisper, not quite a murmur, but it was clear that what he was about to say was different than the chatter in the dining hall. Kakyoin could feel his hand fidgeting in his hoodie’s pocket.

“I know what I said back there was bullshit. Just- It looked like you didn’t want to talk about whatever it is that you have on Wednesdays.”

Kakyoin felt his heart beating faster, his hands growing more fidgety.

He had noticed then. He was covering for him.

“I don’t want to force you to do anything, but-” Jotaro turned to look at the shorter redhead.

“You should just know that, even if we’re all weird crackheads, you don’t need to be afraid of talking to us, okay?” And then he smiled, and Kakyoin felt his hand hear calming down.

“I’m not gonna make any assumptions. You have your reasons, probably, but we won’t judge.”

He sounded so… genuine. But-

“Thanks, Jotaro.” Kakyoin smiled softly. “But nothing is wrong, really, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”
“I’m sure”

They didn’t need to worry about him, Jotaro didn’t need to worry. Not now.

For now, the taller teen seemed satisfied, or content at least, returning to his usual posture like nothing had happened, letting the other students pass them by.

Absentmindedly Kakyoin pulled out his phone.

Was that an email notification?

“Oh, looks like my modern art lecture after music theory on Monday is cancelled. Seems the professor caught a fever.”

He sighed, stretching. “That makes a whole hour of free time to waste and only music theory to finish today.”

“I have some old lyrics lying around at my place.”

Jotaro looked back at Kakyoin. Though Kakyoin didn’t notice it, there was a slight pink tinge to Jotaro’s cheeks. “You could come to my place; I might even have some old instrumentals on my laptop for some of them. Could help you get more into the zone before your first practice session. Maybe we could find one or two to edit-” He paused, eyes averted, tugging at his cap. “If you want to, I mean. No pressure.”

The redhead felt himself smile, a somewhat familiar warmth in his chest.

“Why not?”

Chapter Text

As the hammer fell on the string, resounding a deep sound within the grand piano’s case, a wide, open smile graced the toddler’s round face. Though his hands were barely big enough to spread across the keyboard in a way that each finger reached one of the heavy white keys on their own, he couldn’t help but press down on them, enraptured by their resonance, couldn’t help standing tiptoed, leaning on the keybed for balance, feeling the painted wood vibrate more on his skin the deeper the tone he played seemed to be.

It was fascinating to him, almost magical.

“Dad, look! Look! I’m making music, just like you!”

“You sure are.”

The child turned his head, seeing the much taller figure kneeling down on the floor beside him, offering a soft smile before picking him up and setting him down next to him on the softly cushioned piano bench. He was handling him as gently as if he were carefully putting him to bed.

“Say, Noriaki, do you remember this melody? I played it for you once when you couldn’t sleep.”

“Which one, dad? There are so many-”

The older one of the two let out a sigh, ruffling through the child’s wavy locks while he squealed. “You just want me to play again, youu~”

“Nooo, stop it!”

Both fell into a fit of childish laughter.

“If you want me to play you can just ask me to, you know? I can’t promise I’ll always have the time for it, but if I do, I would be glad to show off a little to my son.”
“Just play the song already, dad!”

Chuckling his father pulled off his gloves, setting them carefully on the instrument’s shiny black case and placed his larger hands over his son’s, both their fingertips touching the keyboard. Soft pressure guided the child’s short fingers to press down on the keys, the mellow clang of wood on wood easily drowned out by the piano’s own echo in the hall.

After a few moments the child withdrew his hands, though his eyes oh so curiously followed those of his father. Like the faintest raindrops falling to the ground on one of the many days of droopy clouds throughout the rainy season, each note seemed to shimmer when he closed his eyes, even if just for the briefest of moments. Just watching as his father’s fingers danced across their own ballroom of black and white as his playing filled the air with a calm yet sombre melody made his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates in amazement.

What had started as a trickle of notes, sounds of calm water gently making its way downstream in the night, began to evolve, to grow rapidly, building a forest of night-time around it, painting a clearing doused in the pale light of the moon, where the slow and steady stream flowed faster, yet waited patiently for whomever would want to listen to its gurgles and stories told in bubbles. The recurring tonal motifs took the child by the hand, and invited him to join them in the music his father played for him, and he just quietly closed his eyes and listened, guided down the path that he had opened for him, all other things drowned out in a waterfall of soothing sound.

And as the melody simmered down again, to that faint sound of rain, the formerly intimidating but interesting instrument before him seemed more and more like a friend, not a beast to be tamed, but a companion waiting for him to try and imitate the things he just heard and make them his own.

“This one is called ‘Clair de Lune’.” His father said with a smile, looking down at his son as the last note slowly rung out and left the room in its usual calm silence.

“Clear de Luin?” His brows furrowed, as if he were concentrating on getting the pronunciation just right, eliciting a smile from the other. “Not exactly, but close enough big guy.” He ruffled through his son’s bright red hair teasingly.

“That doesn’t sound Japanese.” He looked back at his father; face scrunched up in confusion like only a child’s would be when he was confused or discontent.

“You’re right Nori, it’s not Japanese! The composer who wrote it is from all the way in France.”

The toddler blinked a few times, looking down for a moment to collect his thoughts.

“Isn’t France suuuper far away?”

His father hummed. “Really far! It’s on a whole different continent, but I still have the notes right here in my head.” He tapped his index finger against the side of his glasses.

 “Want to know something else Mr. Globetrotter?”

The child nodded vigorously, the ends of growing bangs slipping from their combed state into his freckle covered face.

“That song… is almost one-hundred years old!”

“One HUNDRED?! THAT’S ANCIENT! NO WAY-”

A hundred years, that’s older than even his grandma-

He looked up at his father in disbelief, hands gripping at the bench’s fabric, though the other just let out a hearty laugh.

“It’s true!”

“Woah.”

His eyes shifted to the instrument in front of him, fingers grasping at the keybed as he leaned forward. His gaze pierced the piano as if he were looking for an answer to a question he had yet to ask.

How does a song that old sound so nice? Usually the old songs just sound so boring and stupid, as do all the words that aren’t Japanese, to him anyways. How does dad do that? How does he make it sound like that?

Carefully he set his hand on the keys again, trying to remember the way the notes sounded when his father played them, sliding slowly along the scale to find what he thought was the right ones.

I want to be able to do that too.

After a few moments his brows furrowed, having gone halfway from concentrated to frustrated.

He was hitting the same keys his father was, wasn’t he? So why didn’t it sound the same?

The child’s fingers grew more frantic, more aggravated, frustration growing with every wrong note, culminating in a groan and defeated pout as he withdrew his fingers, folded his hands and rested his chin on the keybed, arms dangling uselessly in the air.

“Daad, why can’t I play it the way you do?”

He felt his father’s hand patting his back comfortingly, hearing him smile his usual understanding smile through his spoken words.

“Well, it takes a lot of training to play pieces that well, Nori. I’ve been doing this for a long, long time, you know?” The child sat up, looking back at his father, clearly unimpressed by his words of encouragement.

“No master’s ever just fallen from heaven, that applies to piano music as well, if not more than other things.”

“But why?” He asked defiantly, feet swaying back and forth underneath the bench.

“It’s just the way things are, big guy. Otherwise it wouldn’t feel so good when you accomplish something, would it?”

“I guess.” He turned back to the piano; lips still curled in a frustrated pout. “I still want to play that though. It sounded so nice when you played it…”

His father leaned over with a soft smile, tapping on his son’s shoulder gently, trying to catch his attention. “Hey Nori, do you want me to teach you how to play a bit?”

“Huh?” The child looked back at him with wide amethyst eyes. Teach?

“I’ll try and teach you the basics, and if you enjoy it, we can get you a real piano teacher and soon you’ll be able to play just like that- How’s that sound?”

“Really?!” He’d be able to play like his dad! And not just that one song! All those songs he’d heard him play before. The fast ones, and the slower ones, and the exciting ones too!

He began to nod frantically, a wide smile on his lips as he hummed approvingly.

Were all the piano songs that old? And were they all from France?

He wanted to start now!

“Noriaki, Katsuhito, Dinner is ready!”

“Just a second, Hoshiko!”

Turning back towards his son he put a finger on the child’s nose. Both their faces carried excited smiles.

“What do you say, wanna run our idea past mom over dinner?”

“Yes!”

Chapter Text

If Jotaro had noticed anything at all in the past 40-something hours it was that time seemed to move much faster when his dysfunctional brain was overflowing with anticipation. Wait – wasn’t anticipation a bit of a strong word for whatever this was? Looking forward to? No-

Jotaro sighed, scribbling out a misspelled word on his notepad as he tried to direct his focus back to the lecture. The notion he’d had about attendance during their first music theory lecture seemed to be at least somewhat true. What used to be a much bigger crowd had thinned out significantly, filling only part of the already dingy and crammed lecture hall. If Jotaro had actually paid attention to their faces at all he might have recognised a few people here and there that had attended Star Platinum’s performance last Friday scattered through the rows like shells in the sand. Though even if he were to notice them the tall teen really couldn’t care less. Not now at least.

His gaze swerved a bit to his left where Kakyoin dutifully scribbled down the information from the current slide on a page much cleaner than his own. His red ‘hair noodle’ was tucked neatly behind his ear, where the same golden cherry earrings he’d worn the week before dangled with every stroke of his shiny green ballpoint pen. Only then did Jotaro notice a second, much smaller green piercing on the redhead’s helix.

“It must usually be hidden by strands of hair.” He thought.

Just like the faint dark blue tint under his eyes is usually convincingly covered with some kind of concealer.

Truth be told, Jotaro wasn’t entirely convinced that Kakyoin was really okay, not when he’d been so defensive after their meetup a few days before at least, but he’d made it a point to the other that he wouldn’t pry. If Kakyoin didn’t want to talk about it he must have his own reasons, plus he wouldn’t blame him if he just didn’t trust him with what he was keeping hidden within himself. They weren’t exactly close friends, not yet at least. It was kind of a given not to be too personal with someone you’ve only known for a week or so at most, right?

Still, seeing those eyebags caused a strange concoction of worry and curiosity to bubble up inside of him that he tried to repress without success.

No, he should trust Kakyoin’s judgement. Even if he ended up being in the wrong, all he had to do was ask him after all.

A weak smile snuck on Jotaro’s lips before he turned back towards the projection of the teacher’s presentation on the wall, where faint stains somewhat obscured the densely packed letters and numbers, making them harder to read from afar.

Groaning silently, he began to scribble down whatever he could still decipher.

Somehow, he found it a lot harder to concentrate than the week before anyways.

And though he did jot down the most important bits and pieces of the theorems of harmonies, his mind kept drifting to the hour after the lecture. It was the first time Kakyoin would see his shitty little apartment that screamed “I can live alone, mom, don’t worry.” at the top of its lungs, the first time he’d read the lyrics Jotaro had written, some of which he should probably have tucked away into some obscured corner beforehand to avoid dying of pure embarrassment, the first time he’d really, really hear Kakyoin sing-

The thought alone sent shivers down his spine.

Shivers that distracted him from the changing slide once again.

Concentrate, god damnit. Why does this have you riled up like that anyways?

Tap, tap.

The sensation of touch on his shoulder broke Jotaro’s train of thought. Admittedly, it was more of a frantic bungee jump off the cliff that was his brain at this point. Consequently, the tall teen’s reaction was a bit more skittish than either of them had anticipated.

“Hey, hey, no need to jump at me-” Kakyoin teased in a hushed tone, a mischievous grin gracing his lips. He almost seemed to be supressing a laugh.

“Jackass.” Jotaro thought, tugging his cap deeper into his face.

 “Well… what I was trying to say before you ‘got scared’ was that it’s only a few more minutes ‘til the lecture is over.” Kakyoins amethyst eyes had an expectant gleam to them, a sheen telling of excitement and curiosity.

Had he been looking forward to this as well?

Jotaro nodded briefly, avoiding to look at him directly. Those eyes were just like they had been when they met his own during the concert-

The black-haired teen tensed his muscles, trying to get rid of… it.

It being that… weird feeling in his chest that just seemed to arise whenever Kakyoin was around, making him feel like it was burning up his insides- but he hummed approvingly in the others’ direction regardless. “Mr. Model student is counting the minutes? How unexpected.” Jotaro grinned as he heard Kakyoin huff in a pretend-offended tone. “You ready to go?” The grip of the black-haired’s hand on his pencil case’s zipper was only moderately more forceful than usual as he pulled it closed, totally unsuspicious.

“Do you even need to ask me anymore?” Kakyoin tapped the back of his ballpoint pen on the table to get the pen point to retract as he turned his head away from the other. “Jeez, and here I thought you were good at reading people.”

“Oh, shut up, will you?” He grumbled back, only somewhat managing to conceal an amused smile. “I’m taking that as a yes?”

“Obviously. I’m curious too, you know?” The redhead responded cheerfully, and even though he hadn’t turned to face Jotaro, the other could hear a faint smile in his words.

When he thought about it, it was little things like that, that made conversation with him so… carefree. It wasn’t that Kakyoin was the easiest person for Jotaro to read, he had his fair share of Polareffs, Josephs and Suzies in his life who practically wore their emotions on their sleeve, but something about the way these hidden little smiles or frowns, the subtle changes in his expression changed the sound of his words made Jotaro want to keep asking, keep talking just for the sake of talking. Kakyoin seemed… different somehow, even if he couldn’t entirely explain why.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Shit, had he been staring?

“I, uh-”

While Jotaro’s mind was seriously considering to cut the bungee-rope his thoughts were clinging on to for dear life, Kakyoin just smiled and… winked at him as their lecturer dismissed the class and he got up from his seat.

“So, you ready to go?”

---

The entire way from the liberal arts building to this very front door of the apartment building he lived in Jotaro’s heart had been racing as if it was his last day alive. Neither the faint smell of the sea that carried through the streets from the nearby piers nor the truly mundane routine this path had become over the many weeks he’d walked it seemed to calm his nerves even a little.

What had that meant? Did he actually wink at him or was he imagining things?

Even though his mouth kept up conversation just fine, he suddenly felt warm under his own skin, like something had changed and he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, which it was absolutely driving him crazy.

Luckily Kakyoin seemed not to notice his internal panic and kept talking on like normal. Either that or the bastard was especially good at hiding his reactions when it came to teasing him; frankly, Jotaro was not about to bet on either option.

He had to get his mind out of the gutter anyhow, it wasn’t like that could have meant anything, if it was actually real anyhow.

Fumbling out his keys at least gave him enough time to take a deep breath, get his poor brain a break and prepare it for the next act of psychological warfare against him.

Did he want it to be real?

“Oh yeah, don’t mind the mess in there by the way. I didn’t have the time to clean up properly this morning, so it’s a bit cluttered in some spots.” Jotaro muttered quickly, turning the key to open the heavy glass door to the concrete eyesore his ‘home’ was situated in. Well, home was relative. It was more so the space he existed in outside of school and band shit than anything else.

“Feel that.” Kakyoin simply laughed, entering behind the other, leaving him to lead the way up the stone topped staircase. “It’s not like I’m the world’s most diligently organised germophobe- trust me, you haven’t seen a mess ‘til you’ve seen my desk.”

“You wanna make that a bet?”

“That depends on what the wager is.”

“Coward.”

Kakyoin’s amused huff echoed just a bit through the hallway, leaving it easily overpowered by the reverb of their steps on old linoleum floors.

The building Jotaro lived in was, admittedly, not the newest or prettiest thing around, and the longer the black-haired teen had to endure living in it, the more he started to appreciate that he lived within manageable distance of the ground. The concrete-slab-outside hardly set up any expectations, but the inside was barely any better. Even if the stairs didn’t have the most modern or user friendly design and the air in the stairwell smelled like a mixture of old church and some grandma’s expired cleaning supplies with a healthy dose of crumbling paint, it was still less of an unreasonable ascent to the upper floors than the menace that was the elevator. Instead of an old metal railing and stone topped steps what you got in that god forsaken thing was the stickiest elevator buttons you’d ever had the displeasure of using combined with a sneaking suspicion that the inside only had wallpaper on the walls to hide the evidence of some murder committed in that three by five meter nightmare box. Plus, the damn thing was agonizingly slow. Thinking of it, the only one who actually used that elevator might just be the old lady whose cleaning supplies the stairwell reeked of.

Really, the only reason Jotaro didn’t abandon everything in there and just move to the dorms was because Jolyne had told him that he would regret his choice of housing after half a year had passed, and if one thing was clear it was that he would not admit that he was wrong to his little sister.

The familiar clacking of the plastic keyring with his apartment’s address on it against the door was almost like a little welcome jingle at this point.

“Come in.” Jotaro said quickly, dropping his bag in the next best corner. “Oh, and please take your shoes off, will you?”

“What kind of monster doesn’t take off their shoes inside?” Kakyoin muttered.

“Some of my little sister’s friends from high school didn’t when they came inside.” Jotaro felt his eyebrows furrow in response. “It just makes extra work to carry the dirt inside.”

He sighed, debating with himself whether or not he should go on that tangent again, ultimately deciding against it.

“Anyhow, welcome to my place. Make yourself at home, I’ll just set up my laptop so I can show you the demos I’ve already got for some songs, okay?” With a swift motion the taller teen grabbed his bag again, ripped open the zipper and, after retrieving his laptop, placed it on his kitchen table and pulled up a chair, leaving Kakyoin to take in the “scenery”.

Looking around, he couldn’t quite pinpoint if Jotaro was going for the minimalist aesthetic or simply didn’t care much for the decoration of his living space. “Either one was a little fitting.” Kakyoin thought.

Most of the furniture seemed like it came with the apartment, that being a dark blue sofa and armchair as well as the shelf doubling as a TV-Stand he could see from the spot in the hall he was standing in. He suspected the wall might have been white a few years ago, but stepping past the entrance into the small, cluttered kitchenette into the living room turned that suspicion into something of a fact in his eyes. Still he couldn’t keep himself from smiling to himself just a little when he spotted Jotaro’s very well cared for, colourfully decorated marine fish tank around the corner, its subtle blue lights only partially obscured by a box full of folders and binders of loosely organised scraps of paper. A gentle breeze entered the room through the open balcony door, leaving black curtains to sway in the wind.

After a minute or so Kakyoin found himself in front of the shelf again, though it was not the books that had caught his interest this time, well not the majority of them anyways. Next to ichthyology encyclopaedias, bio-chemistry and a whole sleuth of conservational books there was an entire section reserved for what seemed to be various effect pedals in all colours of the rainbow, neatly organised by type and size, presumably even age, judging by the wear on some of the smaller ones. The temptation to look at one of them more closely was big, but Kakyoins curiosity about something else was bigger. There in that row of horribly scientific books he’d glanced over just briefly something stuck out, not literally, but figuratively. It was slimmer than the rest of them, forty-something pages at most, maybe even less, and though it wasn’t littered with coloured bookmarks every other word like the others, you could tell it was well loved and used. It wasn’t a hard-cover, he could tell by the spine, or rather by the fact it was cracked beyond recognition. The clear coating of the front cover had long started peeling off, leaving not only the spine, but the rest of the book’s outside as well.

He probably shouldn’t have just pulled it out of its designated space in-between “Subcellular Biochemistry” and “Advice to a young scientist”, but it was like his fingers moved of their own accord, and surely Jotaro wouldn’t mind. He did tell him to make himself at home, didn’t he?

What he found was… surprising.

He stared at the cracked cover depicting an alto saxophone and people in the background, the title written in simple Hiragana in the middle, and the cover stared right back at him.

It must be ages old.

The temptation arose once again, to only take a peek, find out more about him, but at this point the redhead’s conscience took over and he hesitated.

He shouldn’t.

Kakyoin turned around, to see the other still engrossed in sifting through some audio files in the disorganised mess that he called his laptop. “Hey, Jotaro, why didn’t you tell me you play the saxophone?”

Immediately the until now omnipresent noise of clicking and tapping filling the room stopped. “I don’t.” Jotaro muttered, getting up from his chair. His expression as he approached Kakyoin was unreadable to the latter, even more so than usual. His eyes seemed narrower than before, almost catlike. When he kneeled down next to Kakyoin and took the book, gently placing it next to a jar of novelty guitar picks, it seemed less angry and more… melancholic, sad even. Jotaro’s gaze lingered on the book for a second then he turned and got up again. “Not anymore at least.”

I shouldn’t have looked. God damnit Noriaki.

“I’m sorry.”

“Come on, just… forget about it, Kakyoin. I finally found the demos I was looking for, wanna take a listen?”

But should he ask about it?

The comfortable silence had just turned a little uncomfortable.

Kakyoin nodded in response and, with a hum, sat down next to Jotaro on the couch.  Just don’t fuck this up any more like you always do.

The latter reached over the edge of the couch, pulling up a pair of large black headphones, handing them over to him with a quick nod- until he realised that Kakyoin was just staring back at him with a slight smile. “Oh yeah, should probably hand you some lyrics too, right?”
That comment seemed to lighten up the atmosphere a little, causing the redhead to laugh as the taller of the two scurried over to the box in the corner of the room and hastily pulled out a piece of paper.

“You really took a long time to realise that, huh?”

“Oh shut up, Jackass-“

Both began to laugh until Jotaro hurled himself back on the couch and practically pressed the sheet into his hand.

“So uh, I can’t exactly guarantee the for quality of the Lyrics, but uh-”

“Oh, shut up, they can’t be as bad as you make them out to be.”

Playfully Kakyoin stabbed Jotaro’s side with his elbow, causing him to flinch.

“I do not take responsibility for any hearing damage or mental trauma, just saying.” The other responded with a grin. “That’s the demo for hanged man by the way, you know the song we played at the Supplena?”

“Of course, I remember. What do you think I am, a goldfish?” Kakyoin smirked, placing the headphones over his ears carefully, attempting to reduce any potential poking of piercings into the side of his head.

“Actually, goldfish don’t have that terrible of a memory. It’s just a common misconception-”

Looking Jotaro straight in the eyes Kakyoin pressed the play button.

After about two minutes Kakyoin removed one of the cushioned speakers from his ears, turning towards Jotaro’s tense expression. After a well-intended “It’s not half-bad, seriously.” His face seemed to return to its usual, less ‘scowl’-esque state.

“You think so?” Jotaro asked, a subtle tug of his lips upward signifying some kind of relief from the taller teen.

“Obviously. I think the bass-line may be a bit too overpowering, but it’s just a demo, we can always make adjustments in practice, can’t we?” The redhead smiled, grabbing the sheet of paper he’d left next to the laptop and quickly reading over the lyrics.

You could kind of tell they were written by an edgy teen. Sheepishly he smiled to himself and gave his voice a few moments to warm up. “Mind if I try singing along with it?”

“Go ahead.” Jotaro quickly said, his voice hushed in a tone Kakyoin couldn’t quite muster. He couldn’t help but smile as he clicked the replay icon and readjusted the headphones over his ears.

The few moments after that, when the intro had played out and the first verse’s beginning seconds had began to mix with Kakyoin’s perception of sound, when his voice started to echo through the tiny apartment, just barely obscured by the sound of cars outside – those few moments may have been when Jotaro realised his feelings for Kakyoin weren’t just friendly anymore.

That realisation scared him more than anything.

Chapter Text

“Hey, did you see that guy? The really tall one walking opposite from us?”

Don’t react. Just ignore them.

“What, the third year? Yeah, I did. I mean, how could you not? He’s kinda cute, isn’t he?”

Don’t look back at them. Pretend you didn’t hear it.

“I know, right? With his looks do you think he’s a hāfu?”

“He might be, but I’d have to see his face again to be sure. If he is it’s a shame that he seems so normal other than his height, isn’t it? Imagine having a boyfriend that tall and super protective, or some pretty delinquent~”

Don’t listen. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve had to hear it.

“Fuyumi, you’re daydreaming again- Plus, aren’t you with Sato?”

“Oh Hiyoko, let me fantasize-”

Turning a corner, he tugged his cap deeper into his face, hiding it beneath the brim.

In the end they were all the same, weren’t they? He was a foreign fantasy, not a person after all.

He sped up his pace.

The cicadas loud buzzing song was a constant companion on his path through the musky school hallways. Steps and chatter, the clacking sounds of the sliding doors, an occasional clutter from the case strapped on his back; The hot, damp air carried them all like an infectious disease through the building, leaving no spot without noise but the inside of his own mind as he climbed the stairs, passing the large window fronts on his usual route towards the rooftop. There the cooler breeze would carry them all away.

Opening the doors, the moving air against his skin felt liberating. The warmth of the sun gently wrapped itself around him like a soft blanket of light.

The roof was silent.

Finally, freedom.

Truth be told, Jotaro didn’t think of himself as lonely, or rather he really didn’t want to realise he was. Up there by the fences on the roof was his space, where he could retreat to, where he could be at peace when the nearby ocean seemed so far away, where he didn’t have to worry about the people around him, about what they perceived him as. He couldn’t be gawked at, or whispered about, wouldn’t be receiver of scornful or jealous gazes, he could just be, and that was more than enough for him. (Besides, what was there to be jealous of anyways? If anything, he would rather do without his unusual height or eye colour.) “They should be glad.” He thought, letting the door fall closed behind him. “They should be glad not to be like him.”

With a relieved sigh he slid down the wall to sit on the floor, setting down his bag and case next to himself with a soft clunk, quick fingers untangling the cables of his headphones like they were some kind of escape rope.

Honestly, drawing attention to himself was really not Jotaro’s thing. He wasn’t like Yuu Sato, always on the verge of combusting into some comedic idea to collect gazes like trading cards, he wasn’t like that guy Sota Kobayashi, trying to build a reputation of wit and wisdom around himself, top of the class in any subject imaginable, nor was he like Yamato Sekiguchi, trying to gain influence through the student council, eyes set on continuing his political path in high school when they’d graduate, though he could admire all their ambitions in their own right. No, he was Jotaro Kujo. The quiet one. The one without many friends. The one who did his lab assignments alone. The one that you only ever saw in the class and music rooms and only noticed in the hallway because he towered over the others like some kind of giant at a freakshow. He felt like some strange school cryptid sometimes.

And no one remembers your name when you’re strange anyways. Not because of what you want them to remember you by anyways.

Carefully he brushed some pollen off the curved leather case on the floor, drowning out the sounds around him with the music in his ears. The courtyard below was swarming with people like them. Most only looked surface deep in his experience. The biggest reactions he got to his presence were either admiration, mostly from the female upperclassmen, which he couldn’t really understand (what was so great about a big nose and blue eyes anyways?) or jealousy for that admiration, which he would gladly redirect to someone else to get a much-needed break.

Jotaro let out a sigh, rested his temple against the wall and watched them squabble from afar.

He felt his fist clench instinctively.

If anything, he wanted to be known for his music. He didn’t want to be Jotaro Kujo the hāfu, Jotaro Kujo the son of that famous jazz musician, especially not that. No, he wanted to be Jotaro Kujo the saxophonist, Jotaro Kujo the biology nerd, the one who enjoyed walking home on the beachside, even if it was a detour from the fastest path to the suburbs, the one who knew 200 useless facts about starfish but couldn’t tell you the French word for them to save his life-

All he wanted was to be seen as normal. Nothing more, nothing less.

Almost reflexively he tugged at his cap and shook his head.

Come on, get your shit together. Break is almost over; you can wallow in self-pity all you want after school.

When the bell rang the door to the rooftop quietly closed.

---

“Heeey, Kujo. You have a second?”

Even through his headphones Jotaro could hear fast steps approaching from behind. That was unusual. Usually he walked home by himself. He turned his head a little. Even more unusual: The person approaching him was Sato.

He pulled out a plug.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, you mind?”

Jotaro raised an eyebrow, cautiously eyeing the other.

What the hell would Sato want from him? They were in the same class, sure, but aside from acknowledging each other’s existence they were hardly more than acquaintances at best. He was practically a stranger to the other, just as much as he was a stranger to him, wasn’t he?

The expression on Sato’s face told of nothing; not happiness, concern or sadness. It was the same light-hearted, almost cheeky smile he’d set up after pulling a prank on a fellow student or disrupting class, commenting on a teacher or walking through the hallways. You would hardly see him with a different pull of his lips or scrunch of eyebrows if you really thought about it.

“What is it, Sato?” Jotaro replied quickly, letting the other catch up and walk next to him. The other’s smile didn’t flinch at all when he started to match his walking speed to his own.

He was acting like this was normal, but nothing about this was normal at all.

Had he waited for him to leave School? If woodwind hadn’t been cancelled for the day he would still be there, so that didn’t make sense, did it?

A quick glance to the side didn’t reveal anything off to him, yet a lingering feeling wouldn’t leave the pit of his stomach, stirring continuously and leaving him sick in a weird way. Undeterred Sato continued.

“It’s kind of personal-” He put a hand in the crook of his neck, letting out a short laugh, causing Jotaro’s eyebrows to furrow ever so slightly as they walked past the convenience store.

It sounded forced. Was he nervous? And what kind of personal thing would be remotely related to him?

He said nothing.

“Would you mind coming with me for a second? It’s kind of uncomfortable talking about it with all these people around.” Sato looked to the side, shifting, avoiding to look at Jotaro directly.

What could be that important?

Jotaro sighed dismissively, but nodded.

“Fine, I guess. But make it quick.”

“Thanks, man!”

As if on cue Sato took a sharp left into the alley next to the vending machine on the other side of the road, waving at Jotaro to follow him as he slipped between the swaths of students streaming into the opposing direction like a mobile maze of people. As he followed the other, mentally apologizing to the people whose path he was disrupting, he could feel his judgement screaming at him that something was wrong.

What could he possibly do? He wanted to talk, that was it. Who knows, maybe it would be something nice for a change.

He clutched the handle of his case tighter.

And so, he ignored that feeling and followed him.

When he stepped in after Sato the alley was silent.

But this time the silence was different than the one on the roof.

There were no hasty footsteps, no cicada’s song, no clacking of the store’s front door, no excited after school chatter echoing from the street-

No, this silence wasn’t just different.

This silence was deafening.

Even though Sato was only meters away from Jotaro something felt off to him, no, about him. He couldn’t tell exactly what it was, maybe that Sato had slacked his shoulders had forwards, or that he had set his bag down on the grimy floor for seemingly no reason.

Subconsciously Jotaro’s muscles began to tense.

“Sato, what do you-”

When he turned around to face him Jotaro recognised he had made a mistake.

“Shut up you fucking bastard.”

Jotaro took a step backwards. Sato took a step forward.

“Sato?”

“I said sHUT UP!”

His voice was distorted, resembling nothing of the calm, happy go lucky Sato he knew. With a few more quick steps the other student blocked the exit to the street they had come from. His scowl, the image of his face burned into the others’ mind. Jotaro clenched his hands around the case even harder, trying to hold on to some aspect of familiarity as he looked around for some route, any route of escape.

What the fuck was happening?

Why was he doing this?

He barely knew him, so why-

As he was about to take another step back Sato rushed forwards, all light-heartedness gone from his expression, a biter rage taking its place. Jotaro had never seen his face this contorted, this angry and deranged before, and in all senses of the word he was afraid.

In that moment realised too late what the other was about to do, frozen in place until he felt the stinging pain in his shin, his feet stumbling back, his back shoved mercilessly against the rough brick wall. A burning sensation overwhelmed his senses when he felt Sato’s hand shoving him downwards brutely. His saxophone’s case skidded uselessly across the floor.

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, HUH KUJO? WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?”

Another shove, rougher this time. He felt his legs bend on the floor, desperately trying to regain balance. His frantic tries to remove Sato’s hands from his collar were futile.

“-what are you even-”

He was interrupted by a knee in his stomach. For a second his vision went black. A layer of iron quickly coated his tongue as he coughed up blood.

“Do you think just because you’re a fucking hāfu you’re better than us, huh? Are you better than us, Kujo?” He grabbed his chin, pushing it up as he looked down on the usually taller student, meeting his desperate gaze with his own.

“You trying to get my girl?” Sato’s voice grew colder with every word, increasing the tightness of his grip to a chokehold as he watched Jotaro squirm. “Are ya, Kujo? Do you think you can just do that because you’re such a special boy?”

Did he think he enjoyed the damn attention?!

Jotaro’s face contorted in pain when Sato’s fist connected to his jaw. The latter was fuming at this point.

DID HE ACTUALLY THINK-

He needed to get away, no, he needed to fight back-

Slack limbs began to fight back against Sato’s hold as Jotaro’s eyes desperately scanned his surroundings for a way to escape.

“YOU THINK YOU’RE SO PERFECT, DON’T YOU? THINK THAT YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH JUST HITTING ON MY GIRLFRIEND DO YOU?” Forcefully the shorter student threw Jotaro further into the alley while he staggered in an attempt to regain his balance.

Sato had made a grave mistake.

“YOU THINK I’M ENJOYING THIS, YOU BASTARD? DO YOU REALLY THINK I WANT THIS STUPID-ASS ATTENTION?”

Jotaro heaved, wiping some blood away from his mouth. He hadn’t realised his lower lip burst open after the punch, but at this point he was too angry to care. Now that he had gotten up and wasn’t caught by surprise anymore, he towered over the other student menacingly. To think he had been afraid of this shithead just a second ago.

“ARE YOU ACTUALLY FUCKING SERIOUS? – GIVE ME A GODDAMN BREAK!”

He took a step forwards, Sato took a step back. Jotaro scowled.

“I couldn’t give two shits about your girlfriend, all I wanted was to be left alone-”

When the other made an attempt to attack again Jotaro grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him to the ground, letting him skid into the back of the alley. He only stopped with a painful sounding thump against the brick.

To think being what he was made his life easier- Like it didn’t make it his personal hell.

Jotaro spat blood on the floor.

“YOU have everything, Yuu Sato. Be GLAD you aren’t me.”

Sato choked when the taller teen’s foot landed on his chest. Only when he grabbed him by the scruff, feet lifted off the ground and quietly said:

“Leave me the fuck alone in the near future, you hear me?”

could he feel the fear emanating from the others’ expression.

Calmly he grabbed his bag and instrument’s case from the floor, did his best to hide his ripped shirt and stepped out to the street again. The moving air on his skin felt liberating.

“I should walk by the ocean before I get home.”

He thought.

Chapter Text

He could hear the clock ticking its steady rhythm on the wall.

It was nice, comfortable even, Kakyoin felt as he lazily lay on his bed. An undiscernible string of words out of the script for some gaming podcast reverberated from his earbuds as he just existed in his own little space; just him, his thoughts and the ticking of the clock.

And so, his thoughts drifted.              

The band was the first thing that came to mind. Possibly because of their movie night later that day, possibly because that meetup put the image of homemade French cherry pie close enough to taste it.

Kakyoin smiled to himself.

Their first joint practice session had, at this point, become a fond memory; time pressed on ruthlessly as it always had, leaving their university lives and joint hours to level into a calming kind of ordinary life, spiced up by the occasional moments of true stupidity from, admittedly, any one of them.

When the semester began, he would never have thought to end up in a group, an environment so warm and welcoming that he could feel himself looking forwards to their shared time throughout the week; much less that he would share his voice with them in that same carefree way when he had really considered that particular talent a pretty useless one, not something to be proud about.

Having others see the worth in your work really boosts your self-esteem, huh?

It was nice. It felt… nice.

Lazily the redhead lifted his left arm, looking at the familiar splint wrapped around his wrist. His eyes carefully followed the trail of white band as it wrapped around the thumb, disappearing until the Velcro neatly reappeared where its journey had started. There was something visually pleasing about his hand’s marble coloured tomb, he thought.

Kakyoin spread his fingers, carefully, slowly.

Fate had played quite the cruel trick on him with that accident, hadn’t it?

Polnareff’s incredibly bad puns and the way Avdol has a habit of teasing him for them, Suzi’s carefree style of voice coaching, the concerts on those usually lonely Friday nights, and Jotaro’s stoic façade fading to that warm smile of his when he talked about the things he was passionate about, how he got excited about the smallest things, but showed it in ways few would notice, like when they hung out together at his apartment – All of those beautiful things?

Kakyoin couldn’t help but smile as he let his hand rest again, arm falling back down onto the springy old mattress and closed his eyes.

Who would have thought that the moment that he thought his life would end would bring him so much joy in the end? Not him, that’s for sure.

But-

The question wasn’t really if he enjoyed it, no, it was how long he would be able to.

He could feel that feeling creep up again, crawl up his back and encase his head, his mind.

Suddenly the splint didn’t feel that beautiful anymore. Suddenly the fabric felt itchy and tight, the stiff case his thumb resided in too hot; a suffocating little personal cage made for his hand that he couldn’t escape from. A cage he simultaneously wanted to run out of and lock himself into, making that piece of fabric his own metaphorical jailcell of indecisiveness.

How much longer did he have until it got taken off? Until he’d start rehab?

Two weeks? Maybe three?

Groaning Kakyoin shifted, throwing a fleeting glance to the clock above his dusty electric piano.

Dusty.

The sight alone kind of hurt something deep within him.

That piano wasn’t meant to be dusty, ever. Not on the case, not on the key bed, not the pedals or anywhere the varnish usually reflected the light back into the room. It felt wrong, fundamentally flawed, like something that wasn’t supposed to be there yet stared back at him with dead blind eyes that pierced his very soul with their aimless gaze.  It felt like the keys had developed a consciousness of their own, and every second he didn’t sit by them on the small stool he had set aside for it they yelled, screamed, no, shouted at him, begged him to play like a child begged its mother; and god, how much he wanted to play.

He longed for that familiar feeling under his hands, for a tone, a sound - but looking at the keys, hearing them shout, beg, only made a different scream arise in the back of his head.

For every “Play me” he got “But then it all ends” back twice fold.

For every “But its your passion” he got a “But don’t you love what you have? Don’t you love them?” fired right back into his chest.

His heart clenched like his free fist did the blanket.

Why did he have to choose?

It was then that his phone vibrated on the bedside table.

“I’ll call you later today! Love – Mom”

---

“Joot, someone’s at the door!”

The sound of quick steps was easily overpowered by the whirring noises of Jotaro’s criminally underused kitchenette. What was usually barren worktops and deserted bowls had, in the past hour or so, turned into a cherry and caramel scented warzone. By now the most likely incredibly sweet tart had been banished to its heated demise in the oven, but the signs of the slaughter, that being the dozen or so eggshells and brutal splatters of cherry juice, remained as a grim reminder of its past self.

The wet cloth Polnareff ran over the countertops quickly got rid of the evidence.

Jotaro himself had never been a cook, much less a baker. If given the choice between an armload of ingredients and a cup of instant ramen he’d gladly take the noodles. Not because he hadn’t tried to learn, oh no, it seemed the gods of cooking themselves had forsaken his efforts to learn. Despite both Holly’s and his cousin’s wife, then fiancé, Erina efforts, he still managed to make no progress beyond the absolute basics. He didn’t blame them for giving up when he’d managed to burn noodles into the bottom of the pot.

Honestly, it wasn’t his fault if nobody told him to add water before putting in the pasta.

Polnareff on the other hand was as much a gym-rat and overly protective drum-set-owner as he was something of a master chef. From various levels of intricate French cuisine to the finely tuned art of making his own pasta like the grandma’s in Italy (smug bastard): you name it, Jean-Pierre Polnareff can make it. Sometimes Jotaro wondered why he kept switching majors when he could just go into culinary arts and be done with it.

The fact that their most easily distracted, most likely to be late member was a) an amazing chef and b) hated to have a bad conscience most often worked in the others’ favour in the form of sweet, sweet flavour on their semi-bi-weekly movie nights at Jotaro’s apartment.

It was the first time Kakyoin would be there. Naturally, he got to choose the pastry.

It wasn’t a stretch to say that not one person in the studio was surprised when he chose cherry.

When Jotaro opened the door, he could immediately see the excited glint in the redhead’s amethyst coloured eyes. The sight of his subdued excitement and that hint of mischievous gratification in his eyes made the guitarist’s heart flutter.

“It smells amazing in here-”

Kakyoin stepped inside quickly, leaving Jotaro to close the door behind him.

“Better than last time anyhow.” He turned his head half-way, giving the taller teen a sly grin before bending over to slip out of his shoes.

“Oh, shut up- It wasn’t my fault the guy renting below decided it was a good idea to light his balcony on fire.”

Real smooth there, man.

To his relief the other only let an amused grin slip on his lips and stepped away.

Asshole. Jotaro smiled back.

“If you two there are done gossiping would you get over here and help with the clean-up? It looks like a murder just happened in here.” Polnareff called from the kitchen. His usual updo was contained neatly by a little red bandana of sorts he’d tied around his head the way Avdol normally did. Both that and the heart printed apron were, obviously, brought by him.

“I still can’t believe you haven’t even got a whisk, Jotaro. A whisk.” Polnareff muttered as he unceremoniously shoved a rag into the taller teen’s hands. Kakyoin settled on the sofa on the other side of the dividing wall, resting both arms on the backrest and watched in amusement.

“Well excuse me for not cooking much.” Jotaro sighed and half-heartedly wiped down the surface.

“Seriously- what to you even eat? You can’t survive off of take-out forever, think of all the deficiencies you’d get.”

“We do have a cafeteria.”

“SO?! How will you SURVIVE-”

Kakyoin snorted and leaned forward, which made his bangs sway ever so slightly forward. Clearly, he wasn’t taking this anywhere near as personally as Polnareff did.

“While we’re on the subject of cooking, how long will the cherry pie be?”

“Not much longer, it should be done by the time Avdol gets back from the convenience store.” Polnareff’s mood immediately lightened up when asked about his cooking and he began smiling ear to ear. “Actually, it’s not just any cherry pie, it’s a cherry clafoutis! They’re this kind of thing in-between a casserole and a cake, but, in my humble opinion, better than both.”

The look on Kakyoin’s face as Polnareff continued to describe the intricacies and long wielded tradition (really trust him) made Jotaro’s heart skip a beat.

“I used to make them all the time with my sister back in France when it was cherry season and the trees in the backyard were full of the things, although she was arguably the better baker out of the two of us.” Polnareff smiled fondly, kneeling down beside the dingy old oven and peering inside, where the batter’s bubbles had taken on a golden-brown colour. When he noticed Kakyoin peering over his shoulder with wide eyes he began to laugh. “Ironically her name is Sherry – neat coincidence, huh?”

The sound of the opening door put a temporary halt on their conversation as Avdol stepped in, bag in hand.

“I brought some drinks.” With a jingle the keys he had been holding landed in Jotaro’s hand. The latter gave him a thankful nod. “Any progress on movie choice?”

“Cake first, movie later.” Kakyoin interjected from the kitchen, hands already hidden inside a pair of comically big oven mitts.

“Fair enough.” Avdol laughed and set the bag down on the table.

Eventually, that being after Kakyoin quite literally shed a tear over Polnareff’s clafoutis and he was so touched he promised to give him the recipe the following day, the choice fell on some buddy cop movie they found on netflix by pure chance. The so bad it’s good acting, their collective dumbassery and the sugar high they found themselves in it all made time fly by fast, too fast even.

At some point they’d all ended up on the same sofa. Polnareff was spread over the armrests like some kind of long-limbed octopus, one of Avdol’s arms was snaked behind the cushions on the backrest, Kakyoin had leaned against the other armrest, his legs intentionally stretched across everyone else’s out of spite for being the shortest, Jotaro himself was leaning back, internally not trying to panic.

The movie was nearing its end.

It was Jotaro’s phone that vibrated first.

At first, he hesitated to pick it up and read whatever notification would draw his attention away, but the only thing keeping the movie interesting at this point were their own jokes, so what bad could it really do?

It was a message from Joseph.

Ah. That’s the bad it could do.

He wanted to groan, but only managed a silent sigh.

He covered for him this weekend when Jonathan wanted to visit, he hadn’t skipped the performance, he even let him crash on the sofa when he was too drunk to get to his and Caesar’s apartment, so what in the entire fuck could he possibly want?

He swiped up.

[Joseph]

you have any plans for the 18^th

nexxt month

*next

That’s oddly specific.

Before he got a chance to answer his phone vibrated again.

[Joseph] the Supplena has this 80’s night concert thing planned but we’ll be out of town

[Joseph] smokes wanted to knwo if you guys could fill in for us

*kown

** know GODDANMIT

I give up

The reply was quickly written.

[Me]

You mean a full length one?

[Joseph]

yeah!!

you’d do like covers and all that of some 80’s rock stuff ig

idk the details, smokey can probably give you a list of songs you can use

licensing and shit

you down?

i’d owe you big time

Jotaro stared back at his phone. His phone stared back at him.

This wasn’t exactly how he expected their chance for a full-length concert to come up. It wasn’t at all something he expected to get from Joseph of all people. And an 80’s rock night?

What even was there that they could play? The Clash was an option. They would all need to sing for anything Queen, so that was a no.

But could he be sure they would ever get an opportunity like that again?

[Me]

I’ll talk it over with the rest and tell you tomorrow.

Go to sleep, you insomniac idiot.

With that he turned off the screen again.

The rest either seemed half asleep or was engrossed in some post credits clip that didn’t really matter.

No better opportunity than that.

“Hey, I just got a message from Joseph.”

“What did he say?” Kakyoin muttered, stretching his arms and legs like a sleepy cat before settling back.

“There’s-”

It was then that the second phone of the night vibrated.

Kakyoin, whose gaze seemed relaxed and content up until now immediately raced to the phone on the table. Jotaro could feel his entire body getting tense, almost worryingly so as he reached for it.

Why was he-

“Sorry, I have to take this.”

The redhead immediately jumped up, squeezed by the table-

And he disappeared into the bathroom.

Without another word.

“Should we wait for him to come back?” Avdol muttered as he sank deeper into the couch.

“I guess.” Polnareff replied with a yawn.

And so, they waited.

First ten minutes. Then twenty.

At some point Polnareff started packing up his baking supplies, soon after he and Avdol excused themselves because of early classes.

He’d tell them later; he’d said and let them leave.

Thirty minutes.

If he focused, he could hear some rushed Japanese through the walls. He sounded a little northern, he thought, but he didn’t interrupt the call. He wouldn’t listen in.

It took 10 more minutes for him to finish.

Something felt different when he left that room.

Maybe it was his posture, how his shoulders drooped to the front, how his usually straight back was bent just slightly, how his hair seemed a bit dishevelled, how his eyes seemed more sunken than before.

“The others left already.” Jotaro said, quietly.

“Ah.” He replied. “Sorry for keeping you guys waiting.”

“It’s fine.” Jotaro said and held out a glass of water. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Kakyoin looked at the balcony window. It was dark. He took a sip.

“Tired?”

“Mhm.”

“You got any morning classes?”

“None that I remember.”

Jotaro took off his cap and placed it on the table. “You can stay the night if you want. It’s pretty dark, wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

Kakyoin laughed, Jotaro stayed quiet.

“You sure? I’ve been here often enough; I remember the way. I wouldn’t want to intrude”

“My offer still stands.”

The breeze outside was cooler than before. The streetlights flickered from time to time.

Jotaro didn’t know what he was doing, really. Hell, normally he would be screaming on the inside-

But he just seemed like he needed to be around people, like he couldn’t be alone.

In a split second the taller teen could feel Kakyoin’s arms wrapped around his. He could feel his heartbeat, how he was trembling ever so slightly, how he was a little colder than himself, even though he was wearing something thicker than his clothing, how his working hand grasped at his shirt-

“Thank you, Jotaro.” Kakyoin said quietly. “I’ll be fine.”

And he left.

Chapter Text

Four.

Four times in the last hour alone he had had to think about what had transpired two days ago when the rest of the band had already left his apartment; four times he had recalled the feeling of Kakyoin’s slender frame against his own, how his face and features had seemed to collapse into themselves, how he trembled almost unnoticeably, how his fingers had grasped his shirt in a silent plea for something Jotaro didn’t understand on account of inner panic, how he left without another word. Four times he was reminded that he had failed to keep Kakyoin safe, and each one of those four times Jotaro had wanted to punch himself in the gut for it.

Hell, he had noticed that Kakyoin hadn’t been well when he stepped out of the claustrophobic thing he called his bathroom, he had seen how his life drained eyes aimlessly searched the room for something that wasn’t there, heard his voice, his beautiful voice, breaking when he barely even spoke, and yet he failed to stop him, to convince him to stay, not with him, but to stay safe because he was too much of a stupid idiot to do so.

Jotaro could feel how his already clenched fist only tightened, how his fingernails left half-moon shaped marks in his palms and his knuckles started to lose colour from the pressure– but old habits die slowly and his thoughts were really anywhere but on his own wellbeing right now.

He was really early for practice. Too early even for his standards. The sun still stood high in the sky, though the clouds prevented any kind of real sunlight to squeeze through the few gaps the posters didn’t cover on the studio door. From what Jotaro could tell Suzie’s shift must just have started, seeing as he had heard when her tiny bright blue car had been hastily parked on the parking lot behind the building.

No-one was here yet, not a goddamn soul.

Well, being honest, what had he expected? He would just waste his time like usual, maybe wallow on self-loathing and worry for his best-friend-maybe-no-definitely-crush if he found the time for it.

A sigh left Jotaro’s throat as he turned the corner with quick steps.

God, thinking like that was an awful habit.

Maybe coming here, too, was just another habit. Jotaro couldn’t recount how many times his feet had carried him down the monotone, familiar path, how often he’d gone down the winding stairs, a few blocks down and another 3 to the left until he reached the crowded crossing that he could see the shape of the concrete building from. He must find some kind of comfort in the mundanity of it, he thought turning the corner. Maybe he had started to associate the route with the easy-going nature of their practice sessions, or maybe he just treaded it because it was the path he took most often when he wasn’t going to campus, maybe he subconsciously thought, no, wished Kakyoin was there and okay and things were the way they normally were and not whatever the fuck this was.

But being honest, when had things ever been normal around him?

With a sigh he set down his guitar case and leaned against the rough gray wall, feeling the texture scrape relentlessly against his jacket. He couldn’t go inside now, it would just be the same as outside, just without the lingering breeze from the sea and the tinge of salt in the exhaust gas heavy musk around him but with a healthy dose of clamminess and pressure to at least do something instead. When given the choice, he would gladly choose the outdoors.

“I should have gone to the beach instead, at least I could try and distract myself there.” Jotaro groaned to himself as he stared out into the gray, empty nothingness of the street. Everything looked so normal. The normal trash on the sidewalk, the normal people walking by giving him weird looks, the normal mannequins in the storefront on the other side of the road doing the same normal poses with the same normal clothes as if nothing was wrong. Without even thinking about it his hand had already gripped the paper box in his pocket tightly and fumbled with the lid to pull out a cigarette. God, he had a problem.

“Sick today, can’t come to practice. Sorry.” Kakyoin had texted haphazardly into the group chat this morning.

Again.

When he hadn’t shown up to practice the day before a hundred different alarm bells had rung in Jotaro’s brain, louder and louder with every passing minute, their shrill noise deafening by the time Avdol arrived to give him a somewhat worried and confused look as he just sat there.

“He’s told us before that he couldn’t make it some Wednesdays.” He had told himself that when he tried to ignore the vile taste, the rising feeling of the prior night’s worry climbing up his throat like a snake as if to strangle him. He kept repeating it in his head as he explained the prospect of the concert to the rest of the band, it kept resounding in his brain as he strummed during a song he couldn’t remember playing, echoed in his mind when they locked up the practice room for the day, died out only when he lay down to sleep, contemplating if he should text him to be safe. In the end he didn’t get a reply.

Some Wednesdays, Jotaro thought as he watched the white smoke swirl upwards mindlessly. Some, but not three in a row, not to mention he cancelled today’s session too.

Was he bitter, or just worried?

He should have acted on his suspicions sooner, should have asked more when Kakyoin so rarely talked about his own situation, should have listened more closely when he did – hell, why he didn’t he didn’t really understand.

The itchy burning in his throat subsisted even when the cigarette had long burned out, scratched his vocal cords and made his mouth numb and bitter with the taste of tar and nicotine. How one turned into two and two turned into three he didn’t know. Had he become so desensitized to the wretched sensation dragging through his chest?

“Care to share your fire?”

It seemed that wasn’t the only thing he hadn’t noticed.

Obnoxiously bright red helmet under his arm and silver hair hanging down uncharacteristically wavily, Jean Pierre Polnareff, drummer extraordinaire, plopped against the wall next to the younger teen and pulled out a pack of his own with an expectant smile on his lips.

Jotaro raised a brow and tossed his lighter in the other’s general direction. “When did you get here? Practice isn’t for another 20-something minutes.” He supressed the urge to cough.

“Oh, just a few minutes ago. Thought I’d come early so I don’t have to bake next week for once.” He caught the metallic object with one hand, a cigarette already settled between his lips, and lit it with trained precision. “Plus, I had a feeling you would be early today, and I wouldn’t miss the opportunity for a smoke-break with my favourite edge lord, eh?”

“Well fuck you too.” Jotaro scoffed with a sarcastic smile and turned to look at the other’s playful expression, smoke rising in marble patterns from the cigarette between his fingers. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Polnareff’s arrival may have been a blessing in disguise. “Also, you? Early for once? I’m honoured, but you do know you’d have to be on time for every practice to lose your cake baking role, don’t you?”

“Let me dream, asshole.” Polnareff laughed, forming little wrinkles by his eyes, and flung the lighter back in Jotaro’s direction.

For a few peaceful moments it was just the two of them, the cars and the noise on the streets, the calm, raspy breathing from either side. Jotaro closed his eyes, just to feel the touch of the cold rocks on the back of his head, just for a second, uncaring for his shifting cap.

“Hey, you doing okay, Joot?” Polnareff didn’t turn to look at the black-haired teen as he usually did in any conversation. Instead his eyes mindlessly followed the passing mini-vans and SUV’s of the afternoon traffic; his gaze never focused on one of the shapes in the blur of whites, grays and reds as if they were visual white noise. All the while Jotaro’s throat suddenly felt tighter.

“Why?” Was all he managed to croak out in the most pitiful attempt at a normal-ish voice he could muster.

“I don’t know, you’ve been less…” Polnareff’s hand made a kind of wavey motion as he searched for the right words to use, his brows furrowed in a pitiful attempt at a thoughtful face. “God, how do you say this- You’ve seemed less like your usual self lately? Is that it?” The Frenchman sighed and took another drag from the smouldering cigarette in his hand, finally glancing back at the other, who stared back at him with a blank expression.

Jotaro blinked once, then twice, felt the colour drain out of his face if there was even any left at this point. For being an idiot who wore his heart on his sleeve Polnareff sure knew how to read people. His weight shifted, from one foot to the other, the other’s gaze didn’t.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t get at me like that, you know I’m not the poetic type, I don’t know my fancy words.” Polnareff’s lips parted in a cheeky smile, most likely to lighten up the stagnating mood. His pale blue eyes mustered him mindfully. “I-Yesterday during practice, you seemed, off, more fidgety than usual, less in the moment, you know? I just wanted to make sure you were good, that’s all.”

He could say that again.

“It’s nothing, you don’t have to worry about it. Get off my back, man.” Jotaro pinched the bridge of his nose with an exhausted sigh. He didn’t need his help, or anyone’s. He was supposed to be fine.

 Almost immediately he could feel Polnareff’s heavy hand on his shoulder. His grip was tight, but not hurtful, the kind of comforting pressure you would expect from a sibling, or a close friend like him. Still the feeling of contact made his arm tingle uncomfortably.

His usual stand-offish nature wouldn’t get him out of this one.

“Yeah, right, I call bullshit.” Polnareff’s voice, though still strong and reassuring was settled with a tone of urgency and worry that made it hard for Jotaro to just cut him off as he would have.

“Look, I’ve been through some ups and downs myself, so I know what I’m talking about here.” When faced with the almost interruption by the other Polnareff only gripped his shoulder tighter. “Seriously, you don’t want to know. Dysphoria is a bitch and everything it brought with it did not make my life easier one bit.”

Jotaro averted his eyes, felt the need to tug at his cap, fidget with something or other in his pockets, anything, but he couldn’t escape from the Frenchman’s bear-hug esque grip as he continued to talk unabashedly but comfortingly, reassuringly almost. As if he needed it.

 “The point is clamming up and internalising everything the world throws at ya doesn’t do any good in the end.”

The thing being that he didn’t need it, not at all-

He could feel himself tense up again, felt the trained, uncaring persona come up again, but he couldn’t do anything about it.

“God, just, shut up for a second, will you?! This isn’t even about me!”

By this point both of their cigarettes had burnt down to nothing more than smouldering stumps and, being honest, neither of them cared all too much at the moment.

Turning with a little too much force the black-haired teen freed himself from Polnareff’s well-meaning grasp and leaned back against the wall once more, groaning agitatedly, breathing.

“This isn’t about me.” He muttered again, calmer, quieter this time, hand curled in that familiar tight fist.

If he were keeping eye contact with Polnareff he would have seen how his brows began to furrow deeper, how his mouth was that little bit agape as if he were about to say something but couldn’t quite place the words in a comprehensible sentence. A moment of quiet passed between them. Neither said a word as another round of cars passed by or other pedestrians hurried along.

“Did something happen with Kakyoin?” He finally asked.

“No- I mean, yeah? Maybe? Fuck, I-” Jotaro sighed. Being vulnerable like this really wasn’t his strong suit, it had never been. “I don’t know, I just-”
“Take your time man, sort your thoughts, talk when you’re ready.” Polnareff interjected calmly, softer than before. Funny how he was being the rational one now, Jotaro thought.

Another moment passed, though the atmosphere seemed a lot heavier than before on Jotaro’s conscience.

“You remember two days ago? When Kakyoin had to take that call at the end of movie night?” Jotaro began speaking slowly; each word laid carefully in a coherent sentence in his head. He just needed to follow his script, to stay focused. “You and Avdol left before he finished? That one.”

Polnareff gave him a curt nod.

“Something was different when he got out of the call. He was… dejected, didn’t seem like himself, I-”

Calm down. Slow breaths.

“He seemed anxious about something, or just worried. He was tense, would look around himself, not keep eye contact. His body language was conflicting too.” Jotaro looked back at Polnareff. “Something was wrong and I could feel it.” Repressing it won’t work, just talk, breathe.

“Ah.” The other replied gaze on the ground, not out of embarrassment, but to help him think, to help Jotaro think. Considerate. Polnareff turned back towards him, seeming to have gotten a grasp on the situation. “Have you reached out to him yet?”

Jotaro shook his head curtly. “He’s avoiding me. All of us, probably. I haven’t heard back from him since.” He paused. “I just- I should have done something, but I didn’t. I’m worried that-” Before he could take out another cigarette, he stopped himself and looked at Polnareff for some kind of reaction, something he could cling to.

In any other circumstance the other would have probably teased him to no end. It was the norm between them, almost like a kind of game they would play without ill intent. “Jotaro being worried? Hear ye, hear ye!” or “Ya finally getting out of your angsty teenager phase?”; something along those lines would have been uttered, a laugh and snide comment shared and the conversation returned to normal with an amused Avdol not far away to berate them for their childish antics. But instead Polnareff remained quiet and tried his best to listen.

“You think something might have happened to him?”

“Not exactly. I-” Jotaro adjusted his cap and looked off into the traffic.

If he was right, something must have happened to him. When, he didn’t know, but that reaction wasn’t healthy. It wasn’t him; it wasn’t Kakyoin.

“I think he may have been going through something for a while, maybe even longer than I’ve known him. Maybe he didn’t want us to know, god I just-” The teens eyes darted to the side. “He shouldn’t have to do that alone, you get me? It must have been building up for quite some time for him to act like that.” Nimble, calloused fingers began to fidget with the zipper of his jacket.

Something in his heart stung, small and thin like a needle, but from every conceivable direction, burning and piercing his entire chest, his lungs, his heart, snaking around his ribs to make him suffer. The thought alone, that Kakyoin hadn’t felt comfortable enough to share this with them, with him, that he felt he had had to hide whatever it is that was scourging him just… hurt.

“This is just so unlike him, you know?” Jotaro muttered.

“I get what you mean.” Polnareff muttered quietly. “I mean, out of all of us you probably know him best, of course this would bring you down.”

“I just don’t know what else I can do to reach out to him.” The teen sighed and pulled down his cap.

“Why not visit him?” Polnareff said.

Jotaro flinched.

“Just visit him, dumbass.” The Frenchman gave him an optimistic smile. “We did talk around the issue of the track list for the concert yesterday, didn’t we? Just use that as an excuse, something like ‘we need your input as the vocalist’ and go visit him to see if he’s alright.”

Jotaro felt his cheeks flush rosy-red, much to Polnareff’s obvious amusement.

Could he really just do that? Just- show up? He had been to his dorm room once before, well, more like the hallway in front of his room since he had just gone inside to grab a few things for his next class once- could he really intrude like that? Especially in a situation like this?

The teen began to stammer, searching desperately for some kind of answer, but Polnareff just continued with a wide smile.

“Come on, man! Friends visit friends all the time when they’re sick, don’t they? Just grab some cherry flavoured cough drops or something, maybe some tea he likes and go!”

The heat in his cheeks only grew while Jotaro’s thoughts screamed as if on a panicky roller coaster. Technically it wasn’t a bad idea at all- “But what if he doesn’t let me in or-”

“Come on, you’re doing this for him, aren’t you?”

“I am, but-”

“No ‘but’s! Come on, we can’t make any real progress on the songs without our vocalist anyways, and seeing you worried like this will only make things worse for all of us. I’ll tell Mo that you had to cancel short term and we’ll go and bother Suzie or something while you go and check on Kakyoin! Trust me, he’ll appreciate this.”

Polnareff began to smile, picked up Jotaro’s guitar case and shoved it in the overwhelmed teen’s hands. “Come on, what could go wrong? Nothing’s stopping you except your flushed face.”

So much. So much could go wrong. Kakyoin could think he was invading his privacy, or that he was overly attached, or he could not get in the dorm building or he could weird him out or-

Now grinning widely Polnareff gave the other a light shove in the campus’ direction mumbling further words of encouragement.

He was doing this for Kakyoin. Get a hold of yourself and go, Jotaro!

He grabbed his case, started to walk, then run. Fast.

Polnareff’s laughter and a “Go get ‘em, loverboy!” only reached his ears in disjointed bits, drowned out by the beeping of a nearby traffic light.

---

How exactly he ended up in front of Kakyoin’s door Jotaro didn’t quite remember. Someone godsend person might have graciously held the door open for him, or he might have gotten lucky and it just stood open, since he himself couldn’t exactly get inside the brick fronted dorm building without a keycard. However, standing in front of the deep green wooden door, CVS bag in hand and guitar strapped to his back, breathing a little heavier than he was used to, his hands just wouldn’t do what he wanted. They shook, uncertainty radiating from his tense demeanour.

The bag rustled as his grip on the flimsy handle grew tighter.

He couldn’t back out now, for Kakyoin’s sake. For closure.

Eyes pressed shut, he knocked.

Once.

Twice.

The reverb of the hollow sound echoed through the hallway like a wave crashing against the cliff and retreating back into the vast ocean without leaving a trace.

At first nothing happened.

There was no rustle on the other side of the door, no shifting, no footsteps on the hardwood floor, however light they could possibly have been. There was only silence.

He knocked again, more forcefully this time.

Once.

Twice.

It seemed like half an eternity passed as Jotaro just... stood there, staring back at the chipping paint, the metal plate that read “128” in elegant lettering.

Maybe he wasn’t even there. Maybe he was asleep, or at the cafeteria. Maybe he was painting something for his art course in one of the provided studios, or he had an appointment for his injury. Maybe he wasn’t there for some other reason, some part of his life he hadn’t told Jotaro about. Maybe he was tired of the band in its entirety and didn’t want their company anymore.

Maybe he shouldn’t have come.

Jotaro sighed, feeling his unclenching. It had been worth a try, hadn’t it?

As he was about to turn away the doorknob turned, slowly. Even more slowly the door swung open.

And there he stood, hunched over in an old, washed out oversized band tee, usually pristine hair dishevelled and unkempt, tired looking, dim eyes blown wide open and staring back at the unexpected visitor with a face that spoke of nights without sleep, though clearly unused to the bright fluorescent light of the corridor.

He blinked.

Jotaro blinked back. Unsure of what to say he gestured to the bag.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His voice trembled.

Chapter Text

“You shouldn’t be here.” Kakyoin said.

He stood there in the doorframe. He just stood there saying it like it was the most natural thing in the goddamn world, like it didn’t carry the implications it did, like they didn’t drill themselves painfully deep into Jotaro’s chest like tiny, thorny daggers that constricted his throat and made breathing feel rough and ragged. But it didn’t matter to the other as he took another step forward, towards the hunched shape that his friend had fallen into, brows furrowed in worry, in regret.

No, he should be here. He should have been here so much earlier than this.

“You said you were sick, didn’t you? I thought I’d come and check up on you, see if you were doing any better by now.” Jotaro muttered, trying his best to seem like his usual self. His gip still rested tightly on the rustling plastic bag in his hand. He needed to stay calm, stay focused. For a second, he glanced up at his eyes. That second his heart dropped.

His gaze was so… sunken, so lifeless, so unlike the joyful, sarcastic shine Jotaro had gotten to see on his face those countless times, that beautiful gaze he forgot to cherish when he had the chance to do so, that he’d grown so used to was just... gone, replaced by a, by all means, bad copy of itself, trying so desperately to bring his attention elsewhere without results. His lips were pursed in a sad excuse for a smile, chapped and dry and surrounded by skin that bore the sheen of an oily film that was only visible in the bright light of the hallways buzzing lamp. What were usually faint, at least somewhat natural looking bags under his eyes had devolved into deep blue and purple moon shapes dragging down his complexion.

Even if Jotaro’s gaze had shifted it would have caught on his slumped shoulders, his long arms hanging down his side limp and lifeless while subtly trembling hands clenched desperately to seem calm, to seem normal.

He really still tried to hide whatever it was that was plaguing him.

“Check up on me?” Kakyoin eventually mumbled to himself running a hand through his tangled hair absentmindedly.

It was tangled. Kakyoin’s hair was never tangled, Jotaro thought to himself. He always made it a point to keep every strand neatly tucked away unless he was exhausted enough to fall asleep on the spot.

Kakyoin glanced to the side, avoiding to meet Jotaro’s worried eyes again. “I mean, I really don’t want you to get sick and all.” He muttered quietly; his voice suddenly raspier than before. One of his hands hadn’t left the doorknob since the door swung open and began to fumble with the brassy handle. “You really didn’t have to come and… do this. It wouldn’t-”

“I wanted to.” Jotaro quickly replied, breaking the other’s train of thought and took another step forward. Trying his best to recall Polnareff’s advice he continued to speak. He couldn’t afford to just leave him in this state. For lack of a better word the Kakyoin he saw standing in front of him was a mess and a half.

“I just thought I’d tell you about our ideas for the performance we were offered for next month. You know, the eighties thing?” He needed help, any kind of help he could get.

Kakyoin looked back at him blankly for a few seconds, only the subtlest of movements in his face implying a genuine thought process taking place. Weight shifting from one foot to the other, he swayed ever so gently in place, almost like a lost reed in the wind.

“Oh, yeah, that.” Was the riveting answer he eventually settled on, eyes shifting towards the floor.

Was that really all he had to say?

Jotaro sighed, patting down his pockets to find the crumpled sheet they’ gathered ideas on for authenticity. “We do kind of need some insight on the vocal parts in most of these, I don’t know if all our ideas are within your range.” Good. Keep talking. Keep him here. Keep him engaged. Try your fucking best, Kujo. Try your best and beyond, god damnit. “Can I come inside, maybe? Talking about it out in the hall kind of feels weird.” He smiled, trying his best to keep the mood light.

Kakyoin paused, no hesitated. For a moment’s notice he turned his head towards the inside of his room, grip tightening around the doorknob tensely.

From what Jotaro could tell the curtains were drawn together haphazardly some time ago, leaving only a beam of light sharp as a sword to cut through the room from the outside, a fragment of the sunlight that was meant to flood the room. Little dust particles danced around the air; barely visible from the hall an uncharacteristically big blanket was gathered in lumps on the ground by the foot of the wooden bed that seemed identical to the ones Jotaro had seen before in Polnareff’s and Avdol’s dorm room. The only other visible thing was the reflection of a mirror hidden partially behind Kakyoin’s own back.

“I just- I don’t know.” He sighed, turning back towards the larger teen. His face was blank, but his eyes told of doubt, wavered visibly between his friend and the faded yellow colour of the wall. His skin shone ever so slightly with sweat. “I mean, I don’t want you to catch anything from me, the band needs you to be operational and-”

“The band needs you too, Kakyoin. Come on, give me a break.” Jotaro sighed, though a soft, reassuring smile painted his face as he raised his arm and shook the plastic bag. Their eyes met. “The cough drops are cherry flavoured.”

On the outside Jotaro seemed calm, playful even. On the inside he was counting the seconds, watching the moments race by, frantically looking back on his choice of words, looking straight ahead in a hasty attempt to rationalise the situation at hand.

How could he live with the conscience that despite his efforts he wasn’t able to ease his burden, to see him smile again, to see that spark in his eyes, to cherish the moments to come, to just be there for him, be with him?

For a second either of them didn’t move a muscle, didn’t speak a word.

Amethyst orbs stared back into turquoise, the silence speaking more than words.

“Please?”

“I…” He looked away, admitting defeat reluctantly. “…okay.” Kakyoin sighed quietly. With a kind of gentle wave, he let his hand slip from the doorknob and gestured for Jotaro to come inside, the other switched on the dingy light with motions practiced in mundanity. He did not look back at him as Jotaro let out a relieved sigh and followed him inside.

The room was a lot messier than Jotaro had anticipated. Crumpled laundry piled up at the foot of the bed while a solemn, dusty musk wavered about undisturbed. The closet stood gaping wide open, leaving more clothing in need of care and rows of neatly organised boxes out plain for the eyes to see. Carefully hung photos of what looked like a younger Kakyoin and his family stood out against the blemished paint of the walls. A round, green plush carpet was offset from its presumed usual position, curling up against the foot of an ivory coloured small piano, whose bronze, or maybe golden pedals only shimmered slightly in the shade. The key bed was covered by a heavy wooden lid, the music stand stood empty, showing its intricate carving in a sad sort of beauty.  It seemed to have gone unused a for a long time, the black-haired teen thought.

While Kakyoin muttered a quick excuse for the messy state his room was in Jotaro set down the little bag on what he assumed was the other’s desk turned “all-space”.  Piles of art papers and music binders in all colours imaginable were riddled with sticky notes in various shapes and sizes; ballpoint pens and markers riddled the remaining surface of the table indiscriminately while eraser shavings lazily rested on the blemished wood, waiting solemnly to be blown away. Only a leather-bound notebook opened on an empty, line page provided enough space for Jotaro’s alibi goods to sit on. A shiny metallic lamp reflected the sterile light that filled the room. It almost reminded Jotaro of what his own desk used to look like back in middle school.

“Sorry for turning up unannounced by the way. I tried to text you, but I don’t think any of my messages came through.”

A rustle behind him drew the black-haired teen’s attention away from the desk.

“I think they might have; I was just… asleep for most of today.” The redhead answered absentmindedly as he folded his blanket to look somewhat presentable again and placed it on the bed, failing to conceal the imprint his body had left on the mattress fast enough for Jotaro to overlook it. “I tend to sleep in when I get sick.”

“Couldn’t have suspected that.” Jotaro chuckled and grabbed the pack of cough drops from the bag. “Seriously though, did you catch anything major? We all got a little worried when you didn’t show up yesterday, and you do seem a little out of it today too.” Well, they did worry, but mostly it was him pacing out and back into the studio to check if he had arrived, driving Suzie insane with how often the door clacked closed.

“I…” Kakyoin sat down sinking into the sheets considerably and looked back in Jotaro’s general direction. The bedframe shook a little. “It’s not as bad as it was yesterday.” His hand gripped the blanket subconsciously while he leaned back, eventually lying down wholly and staring up against the ceiling.

His answers were so unspecific.

“That’s good to hear.” Jotaro smiled softly and lightly tossed the box next to Kakyoin, whom flinched at the sudden movement.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t have anyone to dick around and annoy Polnareff with for a while. With how him and Avdol are getting along lately I don’t think I could handle it alone anymore.” He continued and sat down in the desk chair while the other smirked. Seeing Kakyoin chuckle at his comment made the teen’s chest grow warm and fuzzy.

“My dearest condolences for that.” Kakyoin sighed and sat up again. “You said something about vocal range and songs?”
Jotaro hummed and handed him the sheet. Though the many, many rejected ideas had made the page crumpled and blotchy by this point, the selection of ideas the group had come up with was by no means unrefined. Songs from different parts of the decade, each with points of interest for the players themselves, as well as a sort of unifying flow through the order they were placed in that would provide the audience with the heart that would keep their spirits high throughout the night.

Jotaro watched Kakyoin read intently.

Something still felt off about him. Sure, he could just have been sick all along, he certainly didn’t look healthy, but the way his eyelids drooped, the way he seemed so drained of energy and emotion, how he just seemed to stare at the paper like it was a blank space in the room- it felt off, it felt wrong to see Kakyoin like that. Yet Jotaro couldn’t pinpoint it, or maybe he didn’t want to think he could.

“Jotaro?”

He flinched.

He must have been staring.

Shit. Great job helping out you’re doing here.

“Sorry, I just spaced out for a second.”

Kakyoin sighed and placed the paper on his nightstand.

Wait, his nightstand.

“What I was saying is that I’ll look at it later and text what I can and can’t do into the chat, okay?”

“Uh, sure. That should work.”

There on his nightstand, what was that?

Between various brands of cold medicine and vitamin supplements that were scattered about there was a bright orange bottle, dead in the centre. At first glance you wouldn’t suspect it was anything other than the things around it, but looking at it more closely revealed two things.

One: It was less full than the others around it, and two: it was prescription medicine.

What would he need prescription stuff for if it was just some cold he caught randomly? Not to mention the amount he needed to have used for it to be that empty.

“Hey, Kakyoin...” Brows furrowed Jotaro got up from the chair and examined the plastic bottle carefully. “What’s this? Some kind of new cold medicine?”

“It’s nothing.” The redhead said suddenly, the colour drained from his face. Within seconds he had risen from his position, hastily snatching the medicine back out of Jotaro’s larger hands. He was sweating, breathing heavily. His eyes were so full of fear.

There was something about that bottle that he wanted to hide.

Kakyoin returned to the bed, sitting down and leaning on his shoulders, bottle clutched tightly in his hands.

“It’s nothing, okay?” His voice calmed down, but no matter how hard Jotaro tired to make him their eyes would not meet. Instead he stared at the bright orange package and let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

“No, just- just drop it, okay?” Kakyoin’s unbandaged hand clenched to the point his knuckles were white and pale, his lips were pursed tightly together. “This isn’t your problem, Jotaro. This isn’t your problem, or Avdol’s or Polnareff’s or anyone else’s.”

“What problem?” Jotaro stepped forwards while the other tossed the bottle on his pillow carelessly.

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter. Just, forget I said anything, okay?”

His face was so… bitter, shadowed with regret and pain. His usually so strong voice trembled. Jotaro’s chest stung at the sight. He had to do something about this, anything. The needles in his chest stung deeper and stronger the longer he pictured Kakyoin just… living like this, refusing any help that came forth was obviously harmful. His expression darkened as he sat down next to the other.

Come on Kujo, think.

“Look, something is clearly bothering you. You’ve been acting… weird ever since you opened the door. You don’t sound sick, but you sure as hell look the part, I-” He looked at Kakyoin. Kakyoin looked at the ceiling. “You haven’t been yourself lately, even before you ‘got sick’ you’ve been acting strange and avoiding all kinds of subjects. I don’t know what happened, if it was something I did or if it’s something I have no influence over, if it happened recently or before I knew you at all, hell I can’t even know what happened on Tuesday unless you talk to me, Kakyoin.”

Slowly the redhead sat up, slowly he shifted, looked off to the side, face distorted in a scowl.

“I’ve already said that this has nothing to do with any of you, and right now I would really appreciate it if you would just shut up and leave me alone, okay? If you have nothing more to discuss with me then leave, just, leave!”

“Kakyoin...”

“I don’t need your pity, Jotaro. I’m not defenceless or some little child in need of assistance. I’m an adult, I can handle myself, I can do this alone without six pairs of eyes glued on my fucking back for no reason.”

Even though he didn’t speak his mind Jotaro knew all too well what must be going on inside there. It must be a storm at sea, constantly ripping at the sails, the crew frantic, the waters restless, the rain whipping down relentlessly on the deck.  He said he didn’t need help, that he didn’t want pity, and he did not, but by viewing him as a provider of such he blocked out the one thing he truly did need: compassion.
And while he kept talking and talking those meaningless words, kept repeating the same mantras over and over, kept clutching his injured hand with his healthy one tighter and tighter… Jotaro seized his wrists and pulled him into an embrace.

This one was unlike the one they had shared in the heat of the moment before Kakyoin disappeared into the night, because this time, nobody would be leaving the other behind.

“I’m not here because I pity you, or because I feel sorry for you. I’m here because I care about you Kakyoin. I really care about you, a lot. I won’t force you to talk to me, but… you’re one of, if not the closest friend I’ve ever had and seeing you like this… it hurts. I’m here because I want to hear what you have to say, and I want to listen.”

For a moment there was quiet. They could hear unrecognisable voices talking about illogical things out in the hallway, hear the buzzing insects outside, could feel each other’s breaths grow longer, heartrates go from racing to calm. Jotaro could feel Kakyoin’s tenseness dying slowly, could feel him so slowly rest his weight against his body, as if he were afraid, he would vanish if he allowed himself to sink into the contact.

“I usually have it under control.” Kakyoin mumbled into the fabric of Jotaro’s shirt, quietly, uncertain. Carefully Jotaro began drawing lazy circles on his back. Continue. They said. Continue and I will listen.

“I’ve been getting medication and therapy for a while, and I thought it was getting better, I really thought I was on the way back to normality when I came here.”

“What are you getting therapy for?” Jotaro asked.

“I’ve… I’ve been struggling with a kind of depressive state for a while. Since I was seventeen. I think that’s when I first started getting real therapy, not just counselling.”

“I see. I’m glad you felt you could share that with me, Kakyoin.”

“Those Wednesdays I usually don’t come aren’t for my hand either. They’re when I see my current therapist. You know the Speedwagon medical centre off campus, near the city centre? That’s where I go.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Recently things… things have been getting more difficult. I didn’t think much of it at first, but I started having trouble sleeping again a while ago… must have been around the time I joined the band, I think. I can’t really remember it too well. It all just kind of… went downhill starting there. The entire time I was with you guys I always felt so light, so… accepted. I never was around many people, it kind of comes in tow with being home-schooled, but you and the others were just so ready to take me in for who I was.” He sighed, resting his forehead against Jotaro’s shoulder before he began to shift out of the embrace carefully and looked at his splint. “It made me happy, incredibly happy, but when I was lying awake at night and began to think about how none of this is permanent I just…” Jotaro felt him tense up a little.

“Getting out of bed in the morning got harder, getting to class on time got harder, paying attention got harder, smiling like usual got harder…” He looked at Jotaro’s face, then at the pictures on the wall. “It’s not your fault, or anyone’s really. It just kind of… built up for a while. I didn’t want to burden you guys with my personal problems from the start. Me skipping therapy and not being able to play piano sure didn’t help.” Kakyoin chuckled and looked down at his hands. “When my mom called on movie night the barrel just… overflowed I guess.”

Jotaro’s brows furrowed in worry. “Did she say...?”
At that notion Kakyoin cracked a soft smile. “No, no. My mother is a wonderful person. She… she really cares about me a lot, always has cared a lot about how I felt and how I was. She has been taking care of me so much ever since what happened, even though it must affect her just as much as it does me… I just- she seemed so happy at the idea that I was doing so much better now when I… I really wasn’t. That kind of broke me.”

Jotaro wanted to say so many things.

He wanted to say how much it meant to him, that Kakyoin felt comfortable enough now to share this with him; wanted to say how he shouldn’t have had to hide this from them in the first place, how much he wished he could help him, how much he wanted to see him genuinely happy again…

But before he could utter a word Kakyoin looked back at his hand and smiled melancholically.

“Oh yeah, I never did tell you how I injured my hand, did I?”

Chapter Text

Kakyoin’s gaze lingered in a calm, almost eerily placid daze, trailing along the winds of the cotton splint like they were a road to his salvation, to a sort of peace of mind as he sat motionlessly on the bed. You could say he was a little overwhelmed by the current situation. But then again, he was overwhelmed in general anyways.

“In all seriousness, I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to listen. It’s… it’s not a light-hearted story.” Kakyoin half laughed, half muttered to himself. His words were so quiet that they were almost lost in the room.

If this was real, if this was actually happening, maybe he could just… let it happen.

Though the mirror across the room only reflected fragments of his appearance, he couldn’t bear looking at it longer than the second his eyes grazed over the image shown back to him. He still looked and felt so… weak and defeated, hunched over on his own brittle frame, face sunken due to sleepless nights and restless days he couldn’t entirely remember anymore. Yet his gaze had softened, eased while he revelled in the moment. Kakyoin felt—actually felt— Jotaro’s hand calmly on his curved back, felt his chest rising and slowly falling again

“This is real.” His mind repeated over and over.

“This is real.” He reminded himself.

“Let this be real.”

The lamp flickered overhead, feeding the seeping feeling of vulnerability and helplessness that had started lingering in every crack of the pale-yellow dry wall from the moment he’d set foot in the room for the first time. Even before things had begun going to absolute shit again he had disliked living in the dorm; he disliked how he could constantly hear his neighbours babbling and the footsteps in the hall, disliked how you could look into his room from the outside if the curtains weren’t drawn completely shut, and hated how people started asking questions when he wasn’t seen out of his room for a while.

Even so, Kakyoin forced himself to stay, forced himself to keep his curtains open and forced himself to listen to the babbling and the footsteps in the hall. He forced himself to waste away in this clammy cube with paint on the walls older than himself and to answer “Really, I’m fine.” when anyone would start to question his habits.

It’s what he expected himself to do. It was what he had always done.

Or at least that was what he had anticipated to keep doing.

He had anticipated to fall back into the same old habits after a while; to stop going out unless absolutely necessary, to bury himself in schoolwork until he didn’t have the time to think about what was happening around him, to forget and shut out everyone who dared to reach out because he was afraid that the memory would come up again. He had anticipated to see the messages subside after these two days of isolation had passed, for Avdol and Polnareff to give up on him, for Jotaro to regret ever meeting him two weeks in and to only ever occasionally see him in the lecture hall. He had anticipated to be alone again, to not rely on others, to watch his mental and physical state continue to deteriorate ‘til the end of the semester when he would board the plane home for the spring and start the charade all over again for the people back in his hometown.

Kakyoin had anticipated anything but this.

Now here he sat, mumbling his heart and soul out to the guy he only met because he botched writing the correct time for an event in his planner. His heart and mind were racing while he focused on keeping his breathing under control, to keep himself under control. Kakyoin could sense how warm Jotaro was next to him, and could feel that warmth pass from Jotaro to himself. It caused fthe shaking to stop and slowly but surely painted the room’s pasty yellow—which had turned dull and gray due to weeks upon weeks of staring at the drywall without reason—into a warmer, more welcoming tone.

“Look, I- fuck.” Jotaro sighed and placed one hand over Kakyoin’s bandaged one.

It was bigger than his own, Kakyoin thought, absentmindedly focusing his gaze on the other’s larger fingers. Bigger and rougher calloused fingertips that suggested years and years of practice felt warm and calming on his skin, serene in their roughness. The ridges in his palm felt chapped, rigid and real- they reminded him that this was real, that he was real, that his problems were real and all he had to do was talk.

Kakyoin gradually let his hand relax into the touch.

“I know I’m really not good at all this emotional stuff…” Jotaro looked down at where their hands met. His rich voice was calm and sombre, but quiet, only for Kakyoin to hear. “But if this, or anything else, helps you in any way at all, no matter how little it may be, I’d do it in a heartbeat, got it?” He glanced up again, his eyes filled with the shine of an emotion Kakyoin couldn’t quite place. Nonetheless, the sense of ease he felt from seeing it drowned out the little voice in his head. "This is probably really hard for you. If you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen, but don't feel pressured that you have to share, okay?"

The room went quiet for a moment.

“I want to talk about it.” Kakyoin finally whispered. His healthy hand had clenched up into a tight ball, and his gaze had averted to look at the piano at the other side of the room. It locked onto the sight of the familiar instrument he’d devoted so much of his life to, taking in its familiar curves and sheen. He could feel as his lips pursed together tight enough to drain them of colour, and felt his fingernails dig into the skin of his palm.

“I need to talk about it. I- I can’t do this anymore- not to myself or my mom or to you.” Kakyoin could sense how his voice trembled in his chest. It tightened, constricting his throat with dry, stinging rasps of sound, like a rope fastening around his neck. It was almost as if his body wanted him to stop speaking, like it wanted him to stay miserable like this forever— but feeling Jotaro’s attentive gaze on him, even while he himself was looking away, helped soothe his mind’s racing thoughts.

He was not okay. He was not okay and he knew that he wasn’t, so whatever the consequence of this may be, it couldn’t make things worse than they had been earlier that day.

The least he could do was to let Jotaro know.

“Take your time.”

Kakyoin could hear Jotaro’s encouraging smile through his words.

“Can we… maybe go outside for this? I… I feel like I need to get out of this damn room for a while.”

“Whatever you need.”

---

Campus was very quiet at this time of day....

Granted, Kakyoin had only left his room once to drag himself to the lecture hall— he couldn’t even remember which lecture he had attended, but what he did remember was how unbearably noisy it had felt. There had been people on the lawns in between the buildings, sitting on the stairs and walking to and from structures he’d never been in, talking and shuffling and taking up the entire pavement and staring at him like a hivemind bent on sending him back to his room like the miserable person he was.

Really, going into crowds in his current state was the worst thing he could have done to himself.

But it was silent now, deserted and empty, and where the crowds had once trampled their way across the brick pathways, the crisp autumn breeze carried stray leaves dancing with faint skittering scratches in no direction in particular; it was a waltz with no song and no dancers, but beautiful all the same.

He could finally breathe.

Standing in front of the dorm, back turned to the harsh yellow light from the main hall, slowly breathing in the cold air – it felt right.

When Jotaro asked Kakyoin where he wanted to go, he couldn’t give him a real answer. It had been a spur of the moment decision, a desire to leave rather than a desire to go somewhere, so when Jotaro suggested they walk towards the pier the marine biology course he was a part of docked their boat, Kakyoin had no real reason to object.

Much like their surroundings, they were quiet as they walked. One by one, the street lights flickered on as the sun gradually began to make its way beneath the horizon. A slight salty air wafted over their senses, like a whisper of the waves they were strolling towards. It painted the hectic air of the grounds with a sombre evening tranquillity.

Jotaro had tucked his hands into his pockets to shield them from the frigid air outside and gave Kakyoin a questioning look; the other left his hands uncovered, holding one with the other while gently tracing his thumb over the splint encasing his right one like a cotton tomb.

For a moment Kakyoin closed his eyes.

“Just breathe.” He thought. “Let go and breathe.”

“I started learning how to play the piano when I was four years old.” Kakyoin eventually spoke. His voice was breathy and solemn, but radiated a sense of both calm and determination he hadn’t been able to muster in a long time.

He needed to speak.

“At first my father taught me, since he was a pianist himself, he had the necessary knowledge.” Kakyoin began to smile softly at the fond memory.

“I’ve always admired the way he played… it’s what made me want to learn the piano too, you know? That was my goal when I first started taking actual classes; I wanted to play as well as my father.” Kakyoin let out a soft laugh. “It’s childish, I know.”

“Not at all.” Jotaro interjected with a well-meaning huff. “I get where you’re coming from.”

The redhead let himself chuckle at that while a breeze rustled through the wayward leaves, carrying the sounds of the not-so-distant ocean with it.

“Not long after I started middle school, my mother got a job offer from a gallery in S-City— you know, north of Tokyo? She could exhibit and work there full time, and since my father had had to travel north a lot for concerts anyways, we decided to move to a suburb by the sea nearby. I’d come with them often to watch them work, mostly because they could hardly leave me home alone all the time on account of me being like… twelve.”

“I’m guessing that’s how you got into painting too?”

“Pretty much, though it was never just as important to me as playing the piano.” Kakyoin glanced back down at his hand, a sort of sad smile gracing his lips.

“I don’t remember a lot about my mother’s gallery, probably because the way it looked changed so frequently, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget the S-City concert hall… just how lustrous it was.” He paused. “I remember the wide billowing curtains and their red, velvety sheen, how they draped elegantly in wide, deep folds that I grew familiar with over the years. I remember the musky smell emanating from them, the slight film of dust on the hardwood floors that they concealed, how those floors sometimes creaked when my father or I walked up to the piano on centre stage, or how the hot lights reflected off the deep black varnish during performances or competitions… It was sort of a second home for me with how often I went there. I’m guessing it’s not really a surprise I didn’t have many friends back then, considering how much I isolated myself from the other kids to practice. They probably thought I was some kind of weird hermit.” He laughed.

For a few seconds, Kakyoin’s gaze met the ground. He stopped in his tracks. The nostalgic air surrounding his words drifted away, replaced with doubt and hesitation. His throat felt constricted again, dry and narrow, entangled by a rope of thorns and barbs he couldn’t dislodge. His limbs didn’t feel glued to the ground; instead, it seemed like with every step he took, another set of nails was hammered through the soles of his feet, trapping him in the middle of the path.

There was a sudden reassuring weight on his shoulder.

Breathe. He reminded himself. Breathe and take your time.

They stood there for a few seconds, Kakyoin slowly but surely breathing normally again, unclenching his hands and opening his eyes, unaware of the pained expression on his face.

“You doing okay? You can stop if you want to.” Jotaro asked, hand not moving from Kakyoin’s shoulder.

“No, I’m good. I want to keep going.” Kakyoin muttered quietly, gently moving his fingers to regain the feeling in them. “How much further until we reach the pier?”

“Not that far, maybe a few more minutes at this pace.”

“Okay.” He took another deep breath and returned his focus to his injured hand as they began to walk again.

By now the area was completely devoid of people. The only sounds aside from their footsteps were the waves, which were gently caressing the sand and rock formations of the coast. A few seagulls hung, seemingly motionless in the air, and the occasional squawks and the beating of wings reminded Kakyoin of the piers at the harbour back at home.

“My father… he… he played a concert the day it happened.” The redhead said abruptly, gazing off into the distance.

“I don’t remember exactly what it was he played. It could have been some romantic ballad, one of those that weave their sound through the still fibers of the room; it could have been one of Chopin’s concertos, the ones that flood your senses with emotion and images of places you’ve never seen before… in the end it doesn’t really matter. It’s not what he played then that stuck with me, it’s how he played.”

He returned his gaze to Jotaro with uncertainty. The other nodded encouragingly.

“Whenever I was able to watch him, it felt like the keys in front of him were made for his fingers. The way he could move them, the way they were so graceful and serene but simultaneously produced the most heart-breaking sounds… It was as if life and death were dancing in a ballroom he created for them, and however much you would have liked to, you couldn’t look away for a second. It’s something I’ve always admired about his style.

“My mother and I were in the audience. The first round of a national pianist’s competition was just the next day, so I hoped hearing my father play would help calm me down beforehand… and it did in a way. It reminded me why I’ve decided to devote my life to that instrument, as cliché as that might sound. It made me happy– it reassured me.”

The sun was low above the water, dousing the pier and the surrounding area in a bright, flaming orange light. Low creaking from the boat fastened to the pier’s posts followed their steps to the edge, where tiny ripples clashed gingerly against the cool metal, momentarily submerging it in a sea of fire that would vanish the moment the sun would disappear past the horizon. Their legs dangled meticulously off the edge, just above the freezing waters below. One’s focus was on the ocean, and the other’s focus on the person next to him.

“We got into a car accident on the way back home from the concert. He died on the way to the hospital.”

Kakyoin bit his lip, trying to restrain the growing tremble in his voice. He turned his face towards Jotaro’s sombre expression, his face contorted with a melancholic smile. His fingernails had dug deep into the soft wood they were sitting on, grip tightened to the point the colour had drained from the fingers on his healthy hand. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath.

“It was the last time I heard my father play.”

It had been a while since he had said those words.

The red-haired teen’s eyes gleamed, a sheen of sorrow shimmering where tears began to well up in the corners of his eyes, and his skin flushed. He wanted to force himself to speak, to spit it out, to finally be done with this part of his life and end it all immediately without a second thought, but instead of words, a constrained sob was all that escaped his throat.

“I… I didn’t compete after that. Didn’t do it again for at least a year, I- It wasn’t his fault that it happened-”

Kakyoin’s entire body hunched over. His hands gripped at his sides to stabilize himself while his vision blurred and breathing grew erratic.

Breathe. Breathe. He needed to breathe.

“I visited his grave almost every day, buried myself in school work bullshit just to distract myself- I-”

BREATHE.

“Whenever I touched a piano key, I could practically hear him playing next to me, I started imitating his style to try and keep him in my mind- It was like I was torturing myself, I-.” Kakyoin winced. Only then did he feel the warm embrace he found himself in.

“Hey.” Jotaro murmured.

“Hey.” Kakyoin replied.

And he took a deep breath. And he wrapped his arms around Jotaro’s side. And he sank into the touch and sighed, releasing the tension in his body.

“That was two years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. There’s nothing you could have done.”

“I know, but I wish there was.”

Jotaro’s grip on Kakyoin tightened. In return, Kakyoin tightened his grip on Jotaro.

Jotaro muttered. “Do you want to...?”

Kakyoin interrupted. “Can we stay like this for a bit? …Please?”

This earned a chuckle from both of them, easing them into a short, but comfortable silence. For a few moments Kakyoin forgot the cold breeze around them. He continued on in a whisper.

“It took a lot of work for my mom and I to get out of that… time in our lives. But with time we recovered from it somewhat… we learned to cope with my father’s death.

“She started painting again after a while, we both attended grief counselling, I slowly began playing like myself again, our lives went back in the direction of normalcy. It all felt like it was getting better… I even managed to get my driver’s license, make a few friends… I signed up for a piano competition earlier this year– things were… good. They were really good, but then I just had to go and fuck things up.”

A few gulls that had circled overhead before landed nearby on the rocky shore. Kakyoin’s good hand gripped Jotaro’s Jacket like he was holding on for dear life. A husky undertone clung to his voice as the stinging in his throat returned.

“We were driving the road that the accident had happened on at night. My mother was asleep on the passenger seat, she’d drunk a little too much at the opening of her newest exhibition, so I offered to drive in her place. Some guy was approaching with his headlights set too bright, I thought he was faster than he was… I remembered the accident, I- I think I had a panic attack… and swerved off the road.”

Slowly he let go from Jotaro’s sturdy frame, his head that had priorly rested on Jotaro’s shoulder dropped to his chest. An estranged gaze once again fixed shakily on his splint as the pianist’s hand began to tremble.

“My mother was fine, but my hand was pushed into some weird angle and… here we are.” Kakyoin’s lips curled upwards in a forced smile, lips pressed tightly together while the first tears fell like gentle spring raindrops down his cheeks. With every passing second his grimace contorted, the stream of tears growing into what felt like a waterfall of pure, raw emotion. His hands grabbed frantically at Jotaro’s sleeve, holding on to whatever semblance of reality was closest, was real.

“I’m supposed to be okay, aren’t I? I… I got therapy, I did what I was supposed to, but the memory just keeps coming back again and again and again and I can’t… I- I’m afraid I’ll never get better, never be good enough to move on, that I’ll fail again and endanger the people around me because of my stupid mental bullshit- I-” He looked up, his panicked eyes locking with Jotaro’s. “I don’t want to leave you again, but I’m afraid that if I stay, I’ll just make things worse for you.”

He let out a strangled laugh, wiping away the tears from his eyes and looked off to the bright orange sea before them.

“Wouldn’t it be easiest for me to just... leave you alone? Once my hand heals, I’ll be forced to leave anyways… I mean, even now I’m weighing you down with all this tragic backstory shit you probably don’t want to listen to anymore. What a great friend I am.”

“Kakyoin.”

Jotaro hesitated for a moment, raising one hand in what Kakyoin assumed to be an attempt at a comforting gesture, before lowering it again and setting it down next to his own.

“During all the time I’ve known you there has not been even one time I wished you would leave, or disappear or anything like that. Whenever we spent time together, even if you were just hanging around the studio waiting for me, or almost falling asleep on your food in the cafeteria I, really… enjoyed every second of it.” Jotaro’s words were calm, if not a bit awkwardly direct, and spoken with an air of finality that caught Kakyoin off guard.

“If you hadn’t appeared out of nowhere that one Friday night and asked me for the performance times, if you hadn’t actually made the decision to join the band that evening– Hell, if I had never heard your voice, I don’t know where I’d be right now.”

With a mix of care and determination Kakyoin had rarely seen in Jotaro before, he took both of Kakyoin’s hands in his own, looking intently into the other’s eyes. For some reason Kakyoin’s heart began to flutter.

“I know our time is limited, but I… I want to use the time that we have as much as possible. You’re strong, Kakyoin, and I don’t think you realise that. I really… I cherish you. A lot. And I want you to know that you don’t have to go through this alone. I- We’re all here for you. You’re part of the band, aren’t you? And you’re our friend.”

Jotaro smiled tenderly.

“I know your problems won’t magically disappear because we talked, but if it reassures you in any way, being your friend has made my life so much more interesting. And I want you to feel that way too. So, Kakyoin-”

He was wanted. He was real, this was real, and however little time they had left, didn’t they deserve happiness?

“Noriaki.” Kakyoin interrupted the other gently, taking one hand away from Jotaro’s to wipe away the last residue of his tears. “Please, call me Noriaki.” He let out a wistful, hopeful sort of laugh. “Now that you know everything you might as well.”

“Will I be seeing you at practice tomorrow, Noriaki?” Jotaro asked hopefully.

“Yes,” Kakyoin replied. He embraced Jotaro one more time. “You will.”

Chapter Text

With the beautiful soapy sensation of a wet, slimy rag in his hands, and bits of stringy, soaked clumps of dust between his gloved fingers, Kakyoin couldn’t help but recall fateful words spoken the prior evening.

“Will I be seeing you at practice tomorrow, Noriaki?”

Practice , Jotaro had said. Practice , not cleaning and maintenance duty .

Dirty gray water ran down his rubber-encased arm when he brutally squeezed his hand into a fist. As much as he enjoyed the other’s company, he felt the overwhelming urge to take the soaking remains of what might at one point have been a poor-quality dishcloth and sock it at his pretentious little hat so it would bear a slimy stain of shame for the rest of eternity. Though for all he knew, Jotaro owned several of the damned things. The redhead’s vengeful smile slowly morphed into a disgruntled pout. He’d have to think of another way to take revenge someday. Someday soon.

 With a deep resigned sigh, Kakyoin left the rag to fall into the bucket by his feet. He groaned quietly when he felt a satisfying itch between his shoulder blades and allowed himself to stretch. In an attempt to use their lost practice time for something remotely productive, Avdol had put on a playlist of the song selection they’d made for their gig in three weeks. It now blasted in long, drawn-out segments from the speakers in the corner. Fittingly, Polnareff danced along to anything that even remotely resembled a classic power ballad in tone or melody, hand on one hip, the other on the mop’s broomstick. This gained him an amused smile from the Egyptian cleaning the door’s tiny milk glass window. It was a shame they were so limited in their selection on account of not having anyone for backup vocals.

From the break room down the hallway, the sound of a tea kettle beginning to boil rumbled satisfyingly towards them. A sweet scent rose from the two cups that had already been poured by Suzie before she left the keys for them. It mixed the overpowering stench of the citrus carpet cleanser that permeated the studio with faint hints of lavender and hibiscus from the blonde’s tea collection.

Kakyoin grabbed his hoodie off the chair that Avdol had set the window cleaning supplies on with a swift motion, and called back over his shoulder as he stepped into the hallway.

“I’m gonna go grab myself a tea, does anyone want anything? Coffee? Water?”

“Coffee please, one sugar!” Polnareff yelled over the music as he dunked the mop into a bucket.

“Alright, one coffee with one sugar.”

“A coffee for me too.” Avdol added quickly.

“How many sugars?”
“One and three sevenths!”

Just in that moment the music switched to a more blaring, bass heavy song. Kakyoin sighed.

“One sugar?”
“One and three sevenths!”

“Three sugars?”

Avdol shook his head, trying to speak louder to overpower the increasingly louder Bluetooth speakers.
“ One and three sevenths!! ”

Kakyoin sighed, clearly a little annoyed, before stepping out of earshot.

“ Alright, alright, no need to shout at me .”

It’s an oddly specific number of sugar cubes anyways.

Careful to avoid any of the carpeted areas, the redhead began his journey over scattered cleaning supplies to the kitchenette. In his hoodie’s pocket, his hand gently traced the cap of his medication bottle. He allowed himself to smile softly.

His issue wasn’t gone now, he was quite aware of that, but now he knew that he could rely on Jotaro if it ever got as bad as the last few days again. Things wouldn’t just be easy all of a sudden, but then again, what ever was? The notion left a soft spark of hope on his mind . This was real after all, and that was more than enough for him.

The little break room had, to Kakyoin’s surprise, a gentle, homey atmosphere, despite the scarce decorations and cold, bright light illuminating the general area. If asked to pin down why, Kakyoin would most likely have mentioned the multitudes of different novelty cups that found their home in a carefully stacked shelf that matched the colour of the table to a “T”. From different commemorative mugs from all kinds of live shows over cheesy semi-motivating anecdotes, to a surprisingly complete collection of antique Marvel superhero cups,, you could almost find anything to suit your cup of tea. Maybe the studio owners were collectors or something?

It was interesting to think about who might have left the cups here at one time or another, Kakyoin thought, standing in front of the shelf with an amused smirk. With this view, it seemed a bit surreal that this was the same break room that Jotaro had mentioned the water dispenser being filled with energy drinks.  In a moment of “Fuck it, a cup is a cup,” he grabbed one with a subtle blue dolphin print to drink his lavender tea from. Maybe it was because it reminded him of Jotaro for some reason, maybe it was because it was closest to the edge. Kakyoin wasn’t about to question his own subconscious.

A flick of a switch, a dump of coffee grounds into the filter, and a gentle circling pour later, the redhead let himself fall onto one of the old, dark wooden chairs with an exasperated sigh. He winced at the screeching sound the chair legs made as they scraped against the white tile before letting himself relax into the seat.

Hopefully that wouldn’t leave a scratch , he worried. Then again, the only other person he knew to use the room frequently was Suzie, and for all her good qualities, the older girl could be incredibly clumsy at times. It wasn’t a far cry to think that these tiles were at least the fourth set to be placed since she started working there. On technicality, he wouldn’t have to worry about a thing.

By now he had set his own cup in front of himself on the table, and while gentle swirls of steam rose up from the hot liquid it contained, Kakyoin absentmindedly traced the handle with his thumb. From what he could piece together from his “sickness briefing,” and the messages Jotaro had sent him after their meeting the day before, their performance was a good three weeks from now. He’d be able to take off his splint and go to his last hand muscle rehab sessions in two weeks. That was, decidedly, not a lot of time to practice a whole concert’s worth of tracks. Not to mention, it was too late for them to get out of this one even if they tried. Smokey had already hung up the posters meant to advertise the gig, and Air Supplena’s management had started pre-sales for seated tickets a short while after that.

The redhead let out a sigh and took out the teabag.

 Time constraints be damned, they’d have to make this work one way or another.

The creaking of the backdoor’s hinges moving behind him interrupted Kakyoin’s devolving train of thought.

Leaning back, he caught a glimpse of Jotaro, back to back with the heavy metal door, trying his best to hold it open without using his hands. Moments later Kakyoin realised two things:

One, Jotaro was not using his hands because they were occupied with heaving two buckets of red paint and various brushes and rollers in all sizes upwards. It was a futile attempt to remain balanced that would, most likely, result in him tripping as soon as the fire door swung closed.

Two, it was incredibly unfair how good his friend looked without his hat obscuring his face or one of his usual dark jackets covering his muscular arms.

"Some people should just not be allowed to wear tank tops.” Kakyoin cursed under his breath, fighting uselessly against the flush creeping up his neck to his ears as he got up to hold the door open for the other. While Jotaro thanked him with a quick nod and stepped inside, Kakyoin strategically avoided eye contact, barely looking at him at all.

He would not allow himself to steal away another glance at that sharp collarbone. By now, the flush had overrun him like the barbarians had invaded Rome, all resistance trivial in the face of the impossible.

Quickly, Kakyoin went to close the door. His head hung down to the ground, eyes fixed on the spaces between the rectangular tiles as he despairingly attempted to free himself of Jotaro’s mental image.

He knew Jotaro was attractive. You couldn’t not know Jotaro was attractive if you’d ever spent a second around him. He was tall, muscular, had an actual sense of style (unlike 90% of the people around them seemed to,) his voice was deep and rich – and Kakyoin was sure to be made aware of that within seconds of stepping into any public space with his friend.

There was one problem with this situation though that made it differ from the countless times before:

When exactly had his brain decided that ogling his best friend was a good idea?!

“Friends” didn’t have thoughts about their friend’s collarbones , nor did they follow the beads of sweat down their friend’s immaculate cheekbones with gazes like that.

Christ, this guy just saw you having a complete breakdown yesterday and now you’re lusting after him?! What happened to wanting to slap him with a wet rag, huh?! What happened to that, brain? Where did your last remaining shred of dignity go?!

The redhead let out a deep, loathing sigh in another vain attempt to rid his cheeks of their furious blush.

“You good, Noriaki?” Jotaro asked with a concerned, dopey smile.

The audacity.

“Yeah, just tired.” Kakyoin responded offhandedly. Hemotioned at the supplies in the taller teen’s hands. “Set those down in the corner, alright? I made tea and coffee for us.”

“Sure, nice cup by the way.”

He wasn’t sure if he should be excited, scared, or confused about what his slowly devolving train of thought had implied.

“Okay, so, we’re done with the recording booths, the mixing room, and two out of the four practice rooms. The hall needs some paint fix-ups, the hole in the wall behind the speakers in our practice room needs to be filled before they find out it was ever there, and we need to throw away that weird, lumpy beanbag in The Ripple’s room because it reeks to all hell. Anything to add or cross off the list?” Avdol asked, hunched over an especially strong cup of coffee with complimentary painkillers.

Every item he’d brought up had been dutifully scribbled down on the back of an old timetable. Advol took special care to make aesthetically pleasing little checkboxes behind each element. Maybe he should remember that way of note taking for his own appointments , the redhead thought as he took a small sip from his steaming cup.

“Joseph will straight up kill us for throwing the damn thing out.” Jotaro muttered, resting one arm on his chair’s backrest. His face bore the distinct scowl it always did when he thought about his cousin, Kakyoin noticed.

“True.” Kakyoin smiled mischievously. “But Caesar and Suzi will fall to their knees in gratitude.”

When Jotaro let out an amused huff, Kakyoin's heart fluttered lightly.

“Oh, speaking of Suzie, she asked me to get rid of some old documents or something she has on the shelves in their practice room. Can anyone take care of those? Something about voice coaching, I think. They should be labelled,” Polnareff chimed in, fondling one of his oversized earrings with his fingers absentmindedly while his other hand drummed on the wooden tabletop. “I’ll be busy with mopping in our room for a while, there’s a really fucking awful stain under one of the sofas I want to get rid of while I still can.”

“ Language , Jean.”
“As if you’re any better, Mo.”

That comment earned the silver-haired man a light punch to his shoulder (even if Avdol was grinning like an idiot during this ironic little assault.) Kakyoin couldn’t help but smile ever so slightly when he set down his cup with a satisfying clank .

“Getting back on topic, I could get rid of those documents for you if you want. I was just about to go and dust in there anyways, so it wouldn’t be an issue,” the redhead said in passing. “I’d need to empty the shelf no matter what. Who knows how many of Joseph’s candy wrappers are hidden between those stacks of books. They probably haven’t been touched in ages.”

“I’d sign that in a heartbeat.” Avdol chuckled. “I don’t even remember the last time I saw any one of them except for Caesar actually holding a book.”

“Would you believe me if I said Joseph actually used to read those gigantic things in between sessions?” Jotaro scoffed, getting up and setting his cup on the nearby countertop by the sink.

“No?”

“I wouldn’t either if I was you, but here I am. His stupid ass has probably recited the entirety of some ancient Chinese war strategy book to me. I imagine he’s used his remaining brain cells to memorize it.”

Polnareff let out a laugh. “I genuinely can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

Slowly, the larger teen turned back around, stretching his arms before going to pick up the supplies he’d set down in the corner earlier. “I’ll be in the studio mixing up some mortar if you need anything.”

Polnareff’s smile faltered. “Wha— you can’t just leave without spilling the details! Jotaro, Joot, Jojo, buddy, please, I need to know—”

Jotaro flipped him off in passing. “Use that nickname one more time and you’re dead, French Boy,” he said matter-of-factly.

Disappointed, Polnareff sunk back into his seat and sipped at his coffee.

“You’ve got to stop being so nosy all the time, Pol.” Kakyoin chuckled. “It only gets you death threats and useless trivia.” He chose to ignore the fact that he was a bit curious about it too, or that Jotaro’s “nosiness” had actually helped him the day prior. You know, for strategic reasons.

The redhead could have sworn Jotaro’s gaze met his when he passed Kakyoin on his way through the door. His turquoise eyes carried a worried— but well-meaning— gleam that anyone less acquainted with him would have missed on account of his scrunched eyebrows. Gently, Kakyoin smiled and gave him a reassuring nod.

It was a silent understanding between the two.

“No need to worry.” The subtle gesture whispered. “I’m okay.”

In response, Jotaro’s expression softened and he began heaving the buckets out of the door. Once again, the redhead felt his ears grow warm at the sight of his bare arms. Maybe with a bit too much force, he got up from his chair. This wasn’t like him at all, was it?

“I’ll go clean out the shelf now. Can one of you take care of the dishes?”

He needed to distract himself, badly.

Moments later, when he stumbled out the door, he realized he had forgotten the rubber gloves.

Entering the Ripple’s practice room always felt a bit surreal to Kakyoin, even if he couldn’t even recall how many times he had been inside the cramped space at this point. He assumed it was only natural. Having been a fan for a while surely must have ramped up his expectations to a level that was not even remotely close to reality. Nonetheless, the room had something about it that was just very… them .

He remembered the first time he entered the room. It was for his first voice coaching session with Suzie almost two months ago. At that point, he was still in a bit of denial that Suzie Quatro, the clumsy girl from the front desk and Polnareff’s drinking buddy, was the same Suzie Q that could absolutely wreck a room with her breathy but powerful and agile singing voice. That denial had immediately dissipated when she sat him down for vocal warm-ups. 

Being honest with himself, Kakyoin hadn’t really taken in the room in its entirety back then, most likely on account of excitement and bewilderment. With time, however, with getting to know the members of the band better and getting used to their inside jokes and chaotic dynamic after hours, he quickly found that their studio thoroughly betrayed the professional image they managed to uphold on stage.

With a deep sigh, Kakyoin folded one of the moving boxes open and began to slowly remove various books, magazines, and memorabilia from the wooden surface of the shelf.

“Chaotic” was the first word that came to mind when he entered the room nowadays.

While the Ripple’s studio space was possibly double the size of their own, all the clutter in and around the corners made it seem more claustrophobic in more ways than one. Aside from the neatly mounted guitar and bass hangers on the wall, nothing ever really seemed to stay in place for more than a week, quite possibly even less if you took the old, lumpy, bright purple beanbag chairs into account. Those were practically never where you expected or wanted them to be , most likely on account of Joseph and Caesar’s constant feud about them. The single, black wooden table next to the shelf— where the beanbag chairs were supposed to be, Kakyoin assumed— was almost constantly littered with various items from said shelf. Wrappers and music sheets concealed little etchings on the table’s surface from the eyes of those who weren’t supposed to see.

But then again, what else could you expect from putting three very eccentric, extroverted, extravagant people in charge of upholding the order of a small space?

Possibly in an attempt to save their practice space from being consumed by total chaos , Suzie had placed a few neatly arranged little ceramic vases with a subtle sunflower design on the shelf next to a few folders.

As carefully as he could, Kakyoin lifted the vases with his healthy hand and set them down on the floor gently. When he had asked the blonde about the ceramics before, she’d seemed almost nostalgic. He’d hate for something to happen to them.

The teen’s gaze wandered to the folders that had been leaning against them. Some of them looked older than others. They were well loved with folded edges and worn labels, though each bore the same writing on the spine, albeit with varying dates. The one furthest to the right he even recognised as one Suzie brought to their practice sessions sometimes.

“Voice coaching.” Kakyoin muttered to himself. Those must be the documents Suzie wanted Polnareff to get rid of for her.

Carefully, he let his hands pull out the oldest looking one out of what looked like three different folders. He knew he shouldn’t be looking through them, just for Suzie’s privacy’s sake, but if she was going to get rid of them anyways, it probably wouldn't bother her too much, would it?

The metal rings on the inside made a satisfying little click when the cover swung open. The inside was very… Suzie , plastered with purple stickers and little notes. Each section was marked off with a piece of coloured paper labelled with flowing, loopy handwriting that reminded Kakyoin of his mother’s. In the centre, a polaroid of three people was fastened to the cardboard with colourful patterned tape. Three people, two taller guys and a smaller blonde girl in flashy, bright clothing were posing while the girl had her arms slung around both their necks with a wide grin. Around the picture signatures from each of them were placed, framing the comment on the bottom of the polaroid with a sense of joy. “We’re a band now!” it said.

Curious, Kakyoin took a look at the label again.

Voice coaching 2016 :)

So that picture of the Ripple was from around three years ago. He smiled and placed the folder on the small table behind him. Suzie must have taught them too, all that time ago.

Really, he had only wanted to look at one of them. His curiosity should have been satiated by now, but now that he knew what the first and last ones contained, he just couldn’t shake the thought of whose folder the middle one, 2018 , could be.

He heard Avdol spraying the small window of the door behind him with glass cleaner while he quickly opened the middle folder, just for a peek.

Hadn’t he berated Polnareff for his nosiness earlier? Hypocrite.

Much like the first folder he had opened, the inside was covered in stickers, dolphins this time, and little motivational quotes, but one thing he hadn’t expected stared right back into his face. He looked just a bit younger in the picture, a bit more brutish and purposefully edgy, but it was undeniably him.

“Hey Avdol…” Kakyoin said, trying to get the other’s attention, to make sure what he was holding was real.

“Did you know Jotaro can sing?”

Chapter Text

Though he should have been used to it by now—this flooding sensation that overwhelms his senses every time he enters the Air Supplena on all those Friday nights—Kakyoin never really did feel like he was prepared for it properly. Every step taken into the cool depths of the basement, the familiar chairs around the barrel-esque tables...it should all be routine to him at this point, and yet he could feel the excitement as if it were the first time he had entered the venue. It bubbled up each and every time he found himself staring at the empty stage minutes before the performances were to start.

Maybe it was because he would be standing on that stage, surrounded by the thundering footsteps and brash energy of the people he usually liked to observe in the pit, with sweat running down his face while his voice echoed through the familiar hall.

It sounded so much like a fantasy when he phrased it that way , Kakyoin mused with a small smile on his lips. He took another sip of his stale cherry cola.

It wouldn’t be too long until The Ripple’s weekly gig was scheduled to end, so the three regulars on stage were giving it their all for the last few tunes. Polnareff had given up tapping along to the beat around half an hour ago, resolving to show Avdol pictures of cute dogs on his phone instead. The latter was very clearly not averted to this turn of events. The centre of Kakyoin’s attention, however, was completely entranced with a fan of tab printouts he’d placed in the middle of the table, seemingly memorising the chord progressions he’d need for “Message in a Bottle”.

Scratch whatever he had thought before; Kakyoin knew exactly why his heart skipped a beat when he entered the venue, and it had all but nothing to do with the building itself.

He liked Jotaro—his best friend — romantically .

It was only yesterday that Kakyoin finally managed to pin a word on that…  feeling that had been plaguing him for the better part of two months now. How his brain had decided to ignore said feeling, to push it under all the intrusive thoughts and divert his attention away effectively that he forgot that he actually, deliberately flirted with him multiple times before, he didn’t know. Maybe he didn’t want to know, because he would either die of second-hand-embarrassment on account of his future self, be holed back into his miserable depression hole because of his past self, or blush so furiously in the present that the object of his admiration would call an ambulance.

None of those options sounded exactly palatable , so Kakyoin opted for the occasional glance across the table instead.

It wasn’t enough that his brain kept circling around the image of Jotaro in that tank top he’d worn during the hours they’d spent fixing up the Studio either— oh no —he’d just had to find out that Jotaro could sing on the very same day .

Kakyoin let out a deep, breathy sigh, turning his head towards the illuminated stage again.

The truth was, whenever his thoughts drifted to the upcoming performance, he couldn’t imagine himself up there alone anymore. Jotaro was always there, standing next to him between the speakers and grounded stage lights. He would be giving him that look he always carried when he was just as excited as Kakyoin was himself before they sang their souls out into the microphone, together. The cheering crowd always played second fiddle to the fantasy of that moment.

The real problem with this predicament wasn’t even that he had feelings for Jotaro— this wasn’t the first time he’d ever crushed on someone, goddamnit —it was that he wasn’t supposed to know that this shared performance he fantasized about was even a possibility . Jotaro had never told him about it before himself, and neither had Suzie during Kakyoin’s own coaching sessions. If he hadn’t snooped around in the documents Suzie had wanted to get rid of, he never would have had even the slightest clue.

Kakyoin sighed again, glancing quickly at his phone’s clock to calm his nerves.

He’d have to come clean eventually and ask Jotaro why he’d kept it a secret . It was a leap of logic for sure, but the only reason they ever even got this close was that he’d needed a vocalist for the band, wasn’t it? If Jotaro could have sung himself the entire time, why would he even look for one? Something wasn’t adding up.

Before he could really register the numbers on the dim screen in his hand, Kakyoin felt a light tap on his shoulder and raised his head.

“Nori, come on. Gig’s over in five. Unless you want to get caught in the crowd at the door I’d say we ditch this place a little early—if you still want to come over to my place tonight, that is. I know you’re not the best with cars.” Jotaro gave Kakyoin a dopey smile, probably oblivious to the rollercoaster that he was sending the redhead’s poor heart on.

Bastard. He decided to keep his questions for himself—just for now—and raised a playful eyebrow instead.

“ Hear ye, you’re willing to take the risk of Joseph crying into your mailbox all night because he found another puppy Caesar won’t let him adopt after his third tequila shot? For little old me?” Kakyoin smirked and hoisted himself off the clattering metal barstool.

“If that means I get to hang out with you? Anytime.” The other replied without hesitation and turned to grab the remaining papers covering the small table behind them.

“I feel honoured .” Kakyoin laughed, ignoring the warm flush creeping over his features. “How could I ever earn such royal treatment?”

“Hurrying up and not wasting the precious time I secured us to leave would be an option, jackass .”

“Stop talking then, you hypocrite!”

Kakyoin didn't know why Jotaro grabbed his hand, but he didn't let himself think about it. Instead, he simply savored the moment as Jotaro tugged him through the dense crowds and towards the exit.

He could swear Polnareff and Avdol winked and signed them a thumbs up as they left.

The wind outside was pleasantly cold, if not a bit frigid in comparison to the musk o f used air and alcohol swirling around in the club beneath them. By this hour, the old street lights had long since flickered on, dousing the area in their warm yellow light. They almost acted like a neat frame, encasing the road as if it was a modern landscape painting. Only the occasional headlights ripped through the oddly serene picture that was painted before them, illuminating puddles of rain that had long been forgotten over time beyond midnight.

Others might have thought the scene to be eerie in one way or another; walking along an empty road in the depth of night, with only your friend at your side and a lively conversation between you, but those moments were something that Kakyoin cherished immensely. It was just the two of them. There were no expectations or annoying bystanders, no interruptions and awkward breaks—just stupid inside jokes and mindless conversation about whatever senseless thing came to mind while cars periodically passed them by. It just felt… nice . Calming, even.

Honestly, Kakyoin had lost track of the conversation before it even began. Words were lost easily in between the seemingly endless number of steps and the soft tapping noises that resounded with each one like a subtle but steady beat. Some stretches went without words entirely. The silence that this created was never uncomfortable though— They didn’t need to speak to enjoy each other’s company.

However—

“We can’t not milk the 80’s look for the gig in two weeks. Come on, that is a one time opportunity, Jotaro. Think of the possibilities here!”

“Okay, fair—” Jotaro retorted to the redhead’s prior statement. “But consider this: I am broke and all my clothes look the same .”

Kakyoin grinned. “Reconsider: You have your little star-shaped studs and a tank top. You could literally look like a 21st century Freddie Mercury.”

Jotaro opened his mouth, obviously attempting to find a way to turn the table back around, failing miserably, thus closing it again.

Kakyoin couldn’t help but suppress a snicker.

“I’ll do the Freddie Mercury thing if you convince the rest of the guys to put on make-up too—you included.”

“Who said anything about make-up?”

“Bold of you to assume that I wouldn’t go all out if given the chance. Who would pass up a chance to look like Freddie Mercury? What are they gonna do, boo me off stage for looking too good?” Jotaro chuckled, lightly punching Kakyoin’s shoulder to emphasize his point.

“You’re going to be the most fabulous guitarist ever to step on stage in the Supplena, I’m telling you-” Kakyoin restrained a high-pitched laugh, only holding himself up by getting a grip of Jotaro’s jacket. “You’ve only got to pick a planet for a last name and you’re all set!”

Sometimes they just got to be purposefully stupid music nerds.

A few moments later Kakyoin managed to catch his breath and haul his upper body back up again, taking a few small steps to regain his balance.

“Seriously, it feels kind of crazy how fast time passed by, don’t you think? I get to take my splint off in less than a week, and the concert is two—” Kakyoin began to smile softly as he chuckled to himself. Gently, he took his injured hand into his healthy one, feeling the familiar texture of the cotton splint under his fingers. “I’ve never felt like the minutes raced by faster than when I get to spend them with you guys.”

“You get to take off your splint next week?” Jotaro inquired, his voice lower and warmer than before. The sentiment made Kakyoin’s chest clench with a familiar ache.

“Yeah, Wednesday, actually.” He replied a bit too quickly, looking up at the taller teen’s face with a renewed vigor. “My doctor said I’d be ready for it at my last rehab session, but they want to do one last checkup to make absolutely sure my hand won’t get inflamed—you know, because of the stress on the tendons when I play the piano again and such.”

To be honest with himself, Kakyoin couldn’t wait to finally get rid of his cotton casket for good, to finally be able to play again after so much time had passed. He’d missed the familiar feeling of the varnish under his fingers, the rumbling echo of hammers on felt, the burning heat of the stage lights in his eyes… Hell, just the thought of seeing the numerous people that attended the competitions he usually frequented brought a motivated spark into his mind. He’d finally have a reason to wear a suit again too, now that he thought about it.

They turned another corner, but neither of them stepped out of the other’s personal space.

“Can I… can I hold it?” Jotaro murmured so quickly that Kakyoin had a hard time deciphering the words at first. When he did, the redhead almost stumbled as he just stared back at his best friend. He was about to lose the feeling in his knees, for good this time.

What?

“Your hand, that is. I- to look at it, I mean. ” Jotaro’s voice grew more restless, trembling as he stumbled over his words. He abruptly turned his head away.

 “Just, forget about it, okay—” His sudden movement in the opposite direction made the small chain on his collar jingle in time with his words.

“ No, no, no—no, it’s fine, don’t worry! I—You can look at it, if you want . I don’t mind ,” Kakyoin stuttered in Jotaro’s general direction. He felt his cheeks warm up painfully quickly, despite the cold, and cursed himself for it.

What did this mean?! Did it mean anything?! Was he not asking to literally hold his hand? Why was Jotaro nervous about this at all? Did he interpret this the same way that Kakyoin had, or was he reading too much into it?!

The hesitant, yet warm touch of Jotaro’s fingers on his sensitive skin all but snapped Kakyoin out of his internal screaming episode and almost made it external. Slowly he willed his pulse to slow down again.

It felt… nice .

Jotaro’s fingers were still the way he remembered them feeling, rougher and more calloused than his own; his fingertips worn by years of strumming hard metal strings. Yet he gently wrapped his hand around Kakyoin’s with utmost care, only feather-light and restrained touches, almost as if he was afraid he would hurt Kakyoin’s hand if he so much as used half of the muscles he could. Like he’s holding a porcelain doll , the redhead thought with a fond feeling in his chest as he watched the other’s eyebrows furrow in both worry and concentration. Or a flower he doesn’t want to bend .

For a short while they kept walking like this, one hand encased by two in an almost solemn embrace, neither of them bold enough to end their contact first (because maybe neither of them wanted to). In the beginning, Kakyoin could feel his heart beating out of his chest, thumping louder and louder with every passing second. Only when a few moments had passed he found himself calm enough to search for Jotaro’s deep turquoise gaze.

“Your hand is warmer than mine,” Kakyoin laughed.

When he turned to look at Jotaro, his cheeks and ears were red with obvious fluster, eyes focused intently on the redhead’s hand in his own.

Cute.

Eventually, Jotaro was the one to break the silence, speaking quietly with purpose.

“Do you know when you’ll be able to play again yet?”

Kakyoin shrugged. 

“Technically speaking? Immediately when the thing is gone. But it will take a few months of practice for me to get back to the level I was at before. I guess I’ll have to reteach myself the muscle memory I had up until the accident, even if I have to take it easy at first. It is kind of fuzzy. It has basically gone unused for three months straight.” He smiled softly. “Although I am a bit nervous about just going back into it immediately, you know?”

“Because of your dad?” Jotaro inquired, giving Kakyoin’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

The other hummed in response. “Kind of.. yeah. I’ve had trouble playing in my own style ever since he died. I don’t want that anymore. I—want to put that part of my life behind me. I don’t want to forget about it, but rather move on to my own future—you get me? I want to be myself again, to be someone my dad would be proud of.”

Jotaro nodded. “That’s a good thing to do, Nori. I’m looking forward to hearing you play someday, I really am.” 

He smiled softly. A sudden movement of his hands, however, exposed that something else must be going on inside his mind. The way they clung onto Kakyoin’s for just a second too long made the redhead worried.

By now, the two had arrived in front of Jotaro’s apartment building. The lights of the old halogen lamps inside flickered through the marbley glass panes the door was situated between, dousing both of their faces in a faint blue-ish glow. 

In the light, Kakyoin could see the deep crease between Jotaro’s eyebrows as they furrowed; he could notice the faint tremble of his lip outside of the blanket of darkness they’d been surrounded by for most of their conversation.

Before the taller teen let go of Kakyoin’s hand, he turned towards him, opening his mouth to speak. When their eyes met, Kakyoin could see uncertainty clouding his vision.

“Noriaki have you…”

“Have I?”

Jotaro hesitated, then turned away, hastily pulling his own hands away to fidget around for his keys in his pockets, leaving Kakyoin confused and cold again.

“Have you thought about playing in some backing tracks for the gig yet?” Jotaro eventually muttered. His keys jingled against a small dolphin keychain as he turned them to open the door. 

“We’ll need some piano and synth for a few of the songs, won’t we? Smokey offered to let us play our own in case we don’t want to use the licensed ones—earlier when I got to the Supplena, I mean. We’d just have to give him the recordings before the performance so he can do a quality check and put them in the mixer.” Jotaro pushed open the door.

“Oh.” Kakyoin was stumped. Neither had he thought about it, nor was that the question he was expecting. Maybe his stupid, crushing brain really was interpreting too much into his friend’s actions. “Sure, I could do that I guess. Can we do multiple sessions? Just so I don’t overexert my hand.”

“I’m sure we can. If I call in a favor from Suzie we can probably use the recording booth at the studio too,” Jotaro replied quickly, but he didn’t turn around.

With quick steps Kakyoin followed Jotaro to the inside, hastily attempting to catch up to the taller teen on the stairs. Behind him he could hear the door fall closed again; the sound of the lock and fire-safety clicking closed echoed endlessly in the stairwell.

Something felt off about Jotaro’s sudden change of topic and tone. It was almost unsettling .

Could it have something to do with why he hid that he can sing from us? Kakyoin wondered as they paced upwards. His worried gaze stayed on Jotaro climbing the stone stairs in front of him the entire time.

If he didn’t ask now, would he ever get the chance to again?  If Jotaro was going through something even remotely similar to what he had, there was a possibility he would never talk about it on his own, wasn’t there?

Fidgeting with his nails in thought, Kakyoin sighed to himself.

More than anything, he wanted Jotaro to be happy , to feel comfortable around him and the others the way he had enabled Kakyoin himself to be. Kakyoin already knew something that he shouldn’t . He knew that he would eventually have to tell the other about his little discovery if he didn’t want to break Jotaro’s trust.

It was when they entered the hallway that Jotaro’s apartment was adjacent to that Kakyoin finally decided to break the silence.

“Speaking of prerecording things, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“What is it?”

“I know that the current plan is to use the licensed backing tracks for the songs that we can, but what if we did live backing vocals instead?”

As he pressed down on the doorknob, Jotaro let out a cynical chuckle.

“I mean, it would be nice to have live backing vocals, don’t get me wrong, but unless you managed to find another vocalist who’s willing to take a cheap gig in two weeks I don’t think that’s really possible, is it? We looked for months before I happened to meet you by chance.”

When Jotaro entered, Kakyoin followed him inside close behind, slipping off his shoes and placing them in their usual spot.

It usually was a calm routine when he came over to Jotaro’s place; they’d take off their shoes, Jotaro would go into the kitchen and grab Kakyoin something—most often some water or one of the various kinds of energy drinks he always kept in the fridge—through the window that connected the semi-walled off kitchenette with the living room. Then, they’d settle on the couch, talking about nothing in particular until one, or both of them, was too tired to answer properly. One time, Kakyoin even fell asleep on Jotaro’s shoulder while he was on a particularly long rant about inexperienced fish owners. If it bothered him, he never told Kakyoin.

This time, however, felt different.

“I know, I know. I can’t exactly duplicate myself either, you know? That’s not what I was getting at, smartass.” Kakyoin let out a breathy laugh as he watched Jotaro retreat quickly into the kitchen. He hadn’t looked at him ever since they entered the building, he noticed .

“ What if… you did... the backing vocals?”

Neither of them moved a muscle or dared to speak another word. In his head, Kakyoin was already beginning to regret his newfound sense of duty for his best friend’s well-being. He began to breathe again after he heard the sound of glass clacking down on the countertop and a restrained laugh echo from the kitchenette.

“ Seriously ?” Jotaro peeked his head through the space between the counter and the ceiling.

“Seriously,” Kakyoin replied as he sat down on the sofa parallel to it.

“What gave you the impression that I , of all people , can sing, Nori?”

“Well...” Kakyoin sighed, pulled one of his knees up to his chest, and rested his foot on one of the chairs opposite to him.

He’d already opened this can of worms. There was no more going back now; He’d have to see this through to the end.

“You remember yesterday? When I offered to do Polnareff’s dirty work and got rid of those documents Suzie had stored in the practice room for him?” Kakyoin leaned back, watching as Jotaro circled around the wall and sank down into the sofa next to him. His expression was stoic, cold almost, and even though the sheen of surprise and fear in his eyes betrayed his facade, Kakyoin was caught... off guard for a second. Nevertheless, he continued after receiving a confirming hum in response.

“Well, I kind of looked into them because I was curious…” He turned to look directly into his friend’s turquoise eyes, eyebrows furrowed. “Is there a reason you never told me you took singing lessons from Suzie too?”

Kakyoin couldn’t quite pin down the expressions that cycled across Jotaro’s face when he finished his sentence. The first was kind of a shock; the way his eyebrows raised and eyes widened made that much evident. Then uncertainty, or maybe regret clouded his features. Only once Jotaro looked down at his clasped hands—or rather, his fists—did Kakyoin stop trying to guess what he might be feeling.

Instead, he opted to listen.

“Oh.” He said, quietly. Dejected . “I didn’t think she still had that folder.” 

Hushed whirring noises from the fish tank in the corner rumbled undisturbed through the room. Muted engine sounds drifted aimlessly upwards and entered through the opened window of the adjacent bedroom with wafts of the crisp night air, and yet the atmosphere of their silence was neither tense nor suffocating. It was heavy , pressing down on both of them as they sat silently next to each other.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t look at all of it.” Calmness radiated from Kakyoin’s voice; a kind of compassion he could only feel for Jotaro took its place in his chest. “I recognized it was yours and closed it immediately. I didn’t plan on digging around in your past, I just… figured I should tell you now that I’m aware of it. You deserve to know.”

“Does… anyone else?” Jotaro sighed deeply, taking off his hat and placing it on the table in front of them. “Know, I mean.”

The redhead nodded. “Avdol does. He was in the room when I first found out, but I made him promise he wouldn’t tell Polnareff a word. Unlike him , Avdol actually keeps his promises, so there’s no need to worry.”

Obviously relieved, the other leaned back again, whispering a soft “Thank you” in Kakyoin’s direction. Jotaro began to smile fondly.

 “Though he probably knows anyhow. I met him through Suzie back when I was still taking the lessons, you know? If anyone is worse at keeping their mouth shut than Pol it’s her. But he never said a word anyway.”

Jotaro let out a short, strained laugh, eyes glued to the table before he turned his gaze towards Kakyoin again. “The bastard may be an annoying loudmouth sometimes, but he’s loyal… I appreciate that. You too, Nori. it means a lot that you actually told me. Thank you .”

“Hey, you did things that were way more important for me.” Kakyoin smiled, prodding his friend’s shoulder. “I found out something I shouldn’t have and told you, that’s all. And I would do it a second time if it ever happens again, you hear me, Kujo?”

When Jotaro’s lips curled upwards into probably the most genuine smile Kakyoin had ever seen from him, he wished he could capture that moment forever, return to it in a time when he had his feelings all sorted out, and reminisce.

“What I’m trying to say is—” Shifting into a cross-legged position, Kakyoin looked back at Jotaro. “You’ve done a lot for me, more than you know.  And I care a lot more about you than you might think. If you want me to, I can listen to you on this. I know how hard it can be to just… talk , but if there’s a reason you gave up on singing, if there are enough bad memories connected to it to make you pretend not to and look for a vocalist for the band instead, if I can be of any help at all... I want to help you. I won’t stop until you tell me it’s too much, got it?”

“Way to make an offer to vent sound like a threat . Now that everyone knows, I might as well. What do I have to lose?” Jotaro chuckled carelessly before sinking back down into his seat.

At least the bit of tension that was still around seemed to disappear slowly , Kakyoin mused, humming gingerly and rested his elbow on his thigh.

“It’s not just singing that I dropped, it was the saxophone too.” Jotaro leaned back into the plush cushion behind him, letting out a deep sigh.

“Oh, I remember you not wanting me to look at that old saxophone book on the shelf a whole while ago… Was that because of the same thing? Now that I mention it, I do seem to frequently look into your things without asking.” Kakyoin scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

“Nosey bastard.” Jotaro chuckled light-heartedly and tossed a pillow at the other’s face. “But yeah, it is. Because of him , rather.”

“Him?”

“My... father.”

“Oh.”

A tinge of guilt tugged at the back of Kakyoin’s conscience when he thought back to how much he had talked about his own dad in the recent past, how Jotaro’s hand had flinched when he did earlier this very evening.

“Did you ever read any music tabloids back in Japan?” Jotaro sighed. “The bastard is still in them sometimes. Does Sadao Kujo ring a bell?”

Kakyoin nodded solemnly. The memories were vague, but still present. Some pictures in the corner of his mother’s favourite magazine, the occasional mention in articles about the re-rise of the jazz scene in Japan that he skimmed through before skipping to the orchestra pages. The one he remembered with the most clarity was eye-catching and big on a cover; Something about a divorce, bright and in bold letters with a large photo of Sadao himself in the centre. It was gaudy in a way, most likely to appeal to all the gossip savvy grandmothers frequenting the convenience store’s magazine aisle.

“The jazz musician?”

Bringing his hand to his face, Jotaro groaned. “The very same.” 

Wistfully he reached for one of the glasses of water he’d left on the counter. 

“The very fucking same.”

They sat in silence for a while. Kakyoin waited patiently—occasionally glancing at the other’s clasped hands with the understanding that this must not be easy for him either—while Jotaro sat and thought.

“I grew up with music because of him,” Jotaro eventually muttered, setting the glass back down again. “It’s kind of hard not to when you’re a musician’s kid. I don’t even remember when I started playing the saxophone anymore. It must have been some time around the end of elementary school, I think.”

Jotaro scoffed, letting out a kind of sad, almost cynical laugh while he shifted his gaze towards the shelf Kakyoin had once found the old saxophone book in.

“The shitty thing is that I actually enjoyed it. In retrospect, it would have been better if I had just smashed my first-ever saxophone and never looked at one again, but I didn’t . I couldn’t make myself drop it either, no matter how hard I tried, just because it gave me relief from the bullshit going on around me when nothing else could. I was in my school’s woodwind orchestra for all of middle school, high school too—The years I attended high school in Japan, anyway.”

Kakyoin could practically feel the resentment and regret tremble in the other’s voice. He set one hand on Jotaro’s shoulder, slowly and carefully in an attempt to show solidarity. He may not have had the same kind of experience as him, but he would be there to listen regardless, even if it might just be to help ease his mind.

The taller teen let out a soft, appreciative huff.

“My dad wasn’t around much; being on tour was his usual excuse.” His shoulders tensed up. “My mom didn’t handle it well in the long run…. almost fell apart, really. Even though he never showed his sorry ass at home, even on birthdays and holidays, she always believed he would come around the next time ... at least she said she did whenever the topic would come up. Jolyne was a little too young to understand a lot of the more complicated things going on with our parents, but we were always caught in the middle. 

“He kind of became a stranger over time. The only signs he even existed were the paychecks in mom’s bank account and the few cards he sent from some bullshit cities that he had performed in. He didn’t even give enough of a shit to turn up when my mom got so sick she had to go to a hospital for almost a month .”

Gently, Kakyoin took one of Jotaro’s hands in his. Despite the warmth he radiated, he could feel the hand shiver.

“Is that why your parents got divorced? Is your mother okay now?”

Jotaro nodded solemnly.

“She is now , mostly. But everything back in Japan reminded her of him, the house we lived in, the town around us, the language, their mutual friends—not to mention the gossip press having a field day on the divorce and posting speculative bullshit all over their front pages about how it was all ‘the American wife’s fault’. It was painful for her, even before the divorce , so I started trying to distance myself from it all when I noticed; I started acting differently to ward off the idiots who thought being a C-list celebrity’s biracial kid was a sufficient reason to assault me, to stop people from questioning me at all—most importantly to be less like my dad so I would make coping easier for my mom, y’know? ”

He took a deep breath and leaned his head back, focusing his eyes on the numerous ridges in the ceiling.

“From here on out it’s all pretty linear. I drop the saxophone and pick up the guitar instead, we move closer to my mom’s side of the family, back to her childhood home, I finish high school and apply for college, she begins to heal… she’s finally regaining the stability she needs, building an own life again. But I can’t do that .”

Jotaros hand clung tightly onto Kakyoin’s, winding around his fingers to find a source of support in his ramblings. Kakyoin squeezed it softly in return, slowly dragging his thumb across the back of Jotaro’s hand. It was reminiscent of the time Jotaro had done the same to him in an attempt to calm him down as they sat on the docks. 

“I still listen to jazz music like I did back in middle school sometimes. I kept the saxophone book from all those years ago—and I feel guilty about it.” His voice broke. “I sometimes check music magazines to look for mentions of him, to see if he’s ever said that he’s sorry , to see if he ever mentioned any kind of regret for the shit he turned my entire teenage years into, an apology for what he did to my mom and my sister… any kind of sign that I can finally let myself enjoy things, but it’s never there . Just rumors about his second marriage to some traditional Japanese singer.”

Jotaro turned back towards Kakyoin.

“I can’t let go because everything I enjoy—everything I am —relates back to him somehow.”

With those words off his chest, he let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes.

“So, yeah. There you go. Hope that’s not more than you bargained for.”

It took the redhead a second to process all the different aspects of the issue that Jotaro had just laid out before him, to arrange the words rushing out of sight in his stream of consciousness into coherent sentences again.

“I’m guessing you stopped singing because of that singer your father got remarried to then?”

Jotaro simply nodded, shifting his gaze on the floor with a self-deprecating huff. “It sounds a lot easier when you phrase it like that. But yeah, pretty much.”

“Does that mean all singers are automatically family-abandoning shitheads? If so, I’m in real trouble.” Kakyoin laughed warmly, keeping his tight hold on Jotaro’s hands. The taller teen’s breath hitched when he got pulled into a hug. 

Kakyoin’s head rested heavily in the crook of Jotaro’s neck. The redhead could practically hear Jotaro’s quickening heartbeat. He could feel how Jotaro slowly eased into the touch and let himself be embraced, and allowed himself to be vulnerable.

“Jotaro… You’re a sensible, emotional person. You laugh at all my shitty jokes whenever even Polnareff is too serious to, and you manage to teach me random facts about marine life every time one of our calls lasts longer than thirty minutes. I know I can always depend on you for honest feedback. You have the single best taste in music out of anyone I know, and whenever I’m around you, you manage to make me calm again—to make all the worries I’ve had over the course of the day disappear.”

Kakyoin murmurs the words quietly, his arms wrapped tightly around Jotaro’s trembling torso.

“What I’m trying to say is that what your father did to you and your family was without a single doubt horrible . But you are not responsible for what he did, nor will you ever be the cause of anything even remotely similar. Because you’re not some out-for-profit, neglectful asshole—you’re you . You’re one of the kindest people I have ever had the luck to meet, and the fact that you feel like you’re even a tiny bit similar to that piece of human garbage is just… not fair towards yourself.”

Slowly he let go of the other, resting his hands on both of his shoulders. Jotaro’s eyes were glazed over when he met his gaze, shining even in the dim light of the old ceiling lamp above them.

“ You’re not your father, Jotaro . You are so much more than he will ever be, you hear me?”

This time it was Jotaro pulling him in. His hands were still trembling, as was most of his upper body, but the way he clung onto Kakyoin’s back spoke more than words. Tenderly, the redhead returned the embrace, humming quietly to comfort his friend as he ruffled his black hair.

“ Who cares if that son of a bitch remarried some singer? He doesn’t deserve a single second of your thought anyway. If you want to enjoy something, do it —e ven if it’s just to spite him.” A soft smile graced Kakyoin’s lips. “You… mean a lot to me, and to everyone else around you. You owe it to yourself to allow yourself to be happy. You told me the same thing, didn’t you?” 

They remained in their embrace for a while, neither wanting to let go and lose that source of comfort in their arms. It was only them, their breathing, and the soft rumble from the streets below that fueled the comfortable silence.

“Nori… Thank you. I didn’t know I needed to hear that,” Jotaro murmured after he eventually let go. Gentle, faded tear tracks painted his face in a silvery shimmer before he wiped them away.

“Anytime,” Kakyoin replied, settling down into his space on the couch again with a smile. “I’m just glad I could help you get that weight off your chest, even if you might decide not to sing… I don’t like seeing you all down-trodden, you know?”

Jotaro let out a breathy laugh that made the redhead’s heart jump. 

“Nori, are you getting soft on me?” He took a deep breath and leaned down on his thigh. “I’m not completely decided on that either way, the singing I mean… maybe I’ll give it a try again —j ust to spite that fucker on the other side of the pacific. My mom will be happy to hear it anyhow.”

“Really?!” Kakyoin’s heart began to flutter wildly in his chest. Just the thought of hearing Jotaro’s singing voice made fireworks go off in his imagination.

Jotaro chuckled. “Sure, why not? Now think of a movie you want to watch before I change my mind and make you watch Planet Earth again .”

Hours later, when Kakyoin had almost fallen asleep on Jotaro’s shoulder a second time, he could swear he’d seen a blush dust his friend’s cheeks.

Chapter Text

It was a Wednesday. Another cold, gray Wednesday. The clouds covered the remaining pale late-autumn sun in their normal fashion, leaving the edge between morning, day, and night blurred beyond recognition. Leaves floated senselessly in shallow puddles that the previous night’s rain had left in cracked concrete floors. They were pushed along like tiny sailboats by the chilly breeze while Jotaro paced along the familiar route with rhythmic steps.

Being honest with himself, on the surface this really was a Wednesday like any other had been the past month or so, a never ending, dull chunk. But unlike all the Wednesdays prior, when the world seemed to fall asleep and sink into the never-changing waters of mundanity and routine, Jotaro’s mind felt surprisingly... light .

Over the last two weeks, the air had turned near frigid, leaving campus and the shore pleasantly devoid of people to bother the tall teen as he walked the path between his apartment and Kakyoin’s dorm. With how quickly the weather seemed to progress from late autumn into winter, it was not exactly pleasant , but it allowed Jotaro to lose himself to the music in his earbuds and the smell of the nearby sea without bumping into anyone. Saying he welcomed the change was an understatement .

Jotaro dismissed the thought of going on a walk like this with Kakyoin, somewhat reluctantly.

Mindlessly swiping through one of the playlists of jazz songs from his orchestra times that Kakyoin had helped him assemble, a soft smile hushed over Jotaro’s face. He finally remembered the familiar bass lines and the bellowing sound of brass again fondly, though now t he memories were mixed with the laughter that had filled his small living room when Kakyoin began to try and sing along to a few of them — with predictably inaccurate results, considering he didn’t actually know the lyrics. Still, Jotaro’s heart clenched.

Maybe this Wednesday was fated to be different for a reason he wasn’t meant to know yet.

Even now, when the days rushed closer and closer to the long awaited performance that the band had been working towards for what felt like an eternity , the little moments he was able to share with the redhead after long evenings they had spent holed up in the studio’s practice rooms felt like bastions of calm in the storm. Lighthearted teasing during the times the movies that played on his laptop were inevitably forgotten, the warm feeling of Kakyoin’s head resting on his legs while he complained about the workload in one of his classes, the peaceful silence that permeated the room when neither of them wanted to get up and leave the other behind again — it felt like it was meant to be … like home .

A gull circled overhead, squawking while it flapped its wings to ascend before it landed by the fountain between the liberal arts building and the cafeteria. Rhythmic piano sections guided the timing of Jotaro’s own steps across the brick pavement. When he passed the bird, it let out another squawk and took off into the sunset.

Whenever they were together , this feeling seemed to take over his entire body —e specially in the aftermath of the conversation he had had with Kakyoin that one time after The Ripple’s weekly gig. Even though he hadn’t been able to bring himself to say everything weighing on his chest, Jotaro felt that ever since that moment, they’d crossed a sort of boundary they had built up between themselves.

Kakyoin had gotten… bolder — if that was even possible — with his approach to things. Contact seemed to come much easier to him; hanging around his arms, little hugs and touches that Jotaro couldn’t distinguish the intentions of and left him as a flushed mess as a result weaseled themselves into their interactions more often. They were, decidedly, not good for Jotaros touch-starved brain. Frequently they ghosted through his thoughts and left weightless, invisible marks on his mind . E ach time Jotaro heard Kakyoin say his name, let alone sing next to him, he could feel the hairs on his arm stand up against his will. He had always prided himself on his self-control, and yet it was a lot harder to concentrate at practice than Jotaro had anticipated when he first realised his little crush on his best friend.

It was crazy to think that in just about a week the gig was scheduled, and then... it would all be over.

The wind got stronger as Jotaro passed swiftly between the buildings, forcing the tall teen to pull down his cap before it was blown off his head. A faint scent of rain began to gather around him. Jotaro only sighed, increasing his pace while the red bricks of his best friend’s dorm slowly inched into sight.

He knew just how valuable the band had become to Kakyoin, and just how valuable Kakyoin had become to him. The thoughts that crossed his mind, when they drifted to the fantasies he would take to his grave, were terribly selfish , but he knew that they were just that: fantasies. Ideas that would never be real because Kakyoin’s happiness was what came first, and would always come first. He could still feel his face burning up the way it had when he had asked to take Kakyoin’s hand. Jotaro would just have to enjoy the moment while it lasted, and that should be enough for him, right ?

He felt his heart clench.

What would they be like once Kakyoin returned to his piano playing?

Instinctively his hand reached for the spot his cigarettes used to be in. Then, he remembered how he’d stopped buying the damn things a week ago in another attempt to stop again (and not at all because Kakyoin said he disliked the smell.) Jotaro repressed a groan. He needed to distract himself.

Accompanied by heavy brass in his ears his thoughts began to drift; away from the questions he didn’t want answers for, away from what he might even call love for his best friend, and focus towards the issue at hand.

“I want to show you something. My place in 20?”

If Jotaro was the master of repressed feelings, then Kakyoin might as well be the master of cryptic proposals via text. Show him what exactly? If it was about rehearsals or some vocal part Jotaro had taken on, he could have asked the next day, seeing as he hadn’t attended practice earlier that afternoon.

Just as he stepped out of a roofed section in between two dorms, the first onslaught of heavy raindrops hit Jotaro’s face. Silently he looked at the sky, then the leaf-covered path before him.

It must be a good 250 meters until Kakyoin’s building. In heavy rain. In November. 

With a sigh he pulled up his hood, tightened the laces, and got ready to run.

Whatever Kakyoin had in store better be worth a soggy jacket.  

Kakyoin was not just walking up and down his room anymore, no , at this point he was pacing .

He’d lost count of how many times he had circled around his plush carpet, socks rubbing raw at the hardwood floor, one hand gripped tightly by the other. It had barely been half an hour since he got back to his dorm, mind still riddled by new appointments and a rush of highly specific dates and times he had had to scribble down into his planner hastily. During the entire bus ride back he couldn’t stop smiling. Caught up in the joy of the moment, his rational thoughts had been conquered, slain and buried, replaced with a rushing stream of adrenaline and endorphins scrabbling around his brain in some kind of festive train.

“It’s gone!” half of it chanted vivaciously.

“We’re really pulling through with this?!” the other half screamed, panicking.

“Quiet!” Kakyoin wanted to yell at both of them, hearing his own heartbeat in his ears. But by then, he had already sent the text, placed the headphones on his electric piano, and closed the door behind himself.

Defeated before the battle even began, he fell backwards onto his creaking bed with a long sigh. Listening to the rain outside hammering against the window did nothing to soothe his heart doing the same against his chest.

He had gotten himself into this mess and it was too late to change his mind now. Jotaro was most likely already on the way, he did reply around fifteen minutes ago anyhow... and Kakyoin really, really wanted to do what he had planned, that was not the problem —

His head turned immediately when he heard a light knock at his old, wooden door. Kakyoin’s heart leapt with anticipation.

— He just really didn’t want to fuck this up.

Hastily Kakyoin smoothed his crumpled sheets and tucked away any stray hairs. His hand flinched when he went to push down the door handle. Try as he may, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this nervous about anything . In an attempt to calm himself, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

It’s all going to go well, Noriaki. It’s showtime.

A soft push, a metallic “click”, a draw of the door towards him and they stood face to face. The lamp in the hallway flickered in time with the beat of Kakyoin’s heart the moment he laid eyes upon Jotaro.

He was, for all intents and purposes, drenched , his clothes and hair dampened by the rain he had carried inside. Little droplets glistened on his wet skin, giving it an almost ethereal shine. Kakyoin hadn’t known that black hair could look darker than just black, but here in front of him stood the living proof. The way Jotaro’s shirt now clung to his frame ought to be criminal, he thought while he felt a hot blush creep up to his face. Honestly, Kakyoin’s mind was racing in all the worst ways —his artistic side wanted to paint this moment on a canvas and hang it in a gallery because beauty like that was art in and of itself; his musical side wanted to write a song about it and sing it to the other just to express what he felt in that single moment. His outward self, however, was simply at a loss for words.

Instead, Kakyoin stared at him. And Jotaro stared back.

“You’re soaked.” Kakyoin stated, dumbly.
“Your splint is gone.” Jotaro replied.

For what felt like an eternity the two of them just… stared at each other, neither of them moving a muscle nor speaking a word. It must have been a strange sight for anyone else in the hallway, only getting infinitely stranger when they burst out into laughter at the same time. The fact that Jotaro had immediately noticed the change in his appearance sent his heart flying .

“Your splint is gone!” Jotaro repeated, voice rising with excitement and laughter. “Nori, why didn’t you tell me you got your splint taken off?!”

“I did, you jackass! I told you two weeks ago!” Kakyoin replied, hastily ushering the other inside after giving him a short hug. His face fell when he felt the other’s chilling wetness transfer to him.  “Hold on, let me get you a towel before you drip all over the floor.”

“Too late for that, smartass. Your whole dorm is underwater. They’ll have field research troupes from my marine biology major sent out here soon to get a look at all that underwater fauna. This might be a whole new habitat.”

“Sorry to disappoint, but I don’t think you’ll discover any new species here. Trust me, all the fauna you’ll find are around 12 clownfish per floor.”

Jotaro closed the door behind them while Kakyoin reached up into one of the compartments of his closet to grab a towel, which was tossed unceremoniously at the soggy teen’s head. Kakyoin began to grin. “There’s a single starfish around, but its migratory patterns suggest it won’t be staying long.”

That coaxed a restrained but warm laugh from Jotaro’s cold throat.

Within minutes Kakyoin’s previous anxieties had faded away, replaced by the warm feeling of belonging blooming in his chest. Through witty banter and wet towels thrown at one another, removed shoes and creaking beds, Kakyoin wondered why he had even been worried at all when it was Jotaro he was thinking about.

“God, now it all makes sense though. That you didn’t turn up at rehearsals and shit.” Jotaro laughed, leaning back against the wall Kakyoin’s bed was situated against. By now, at least his head was drier than before. Black locks curled playfully upwards against the influence of gravity (or one of the thousand hats Jotaro seemed to own.) Kakyoin’s towel had been draped lazily over his shoulders. It took Kakyoin every bit of self restraint he had in himself not to give in to the urge and run his hands through the dense, yet soft-looking mess on Jotaro’s head.

“Another astute observation by Dr. Kujo.” The redhead replied with a laugh and fell back on his desk chair, rolling in the same direction in the process. “Next thing I know you’re actually going to start reading what we send into the group chat.”

“ Has never happened, will never happen, and I am not sorry in the least.” Jotaro replied curtly, turning towards Kakyoin with a sarcastic glint in his eye. “There are exactly three things in that chat: My important messages about practice times and the gig, Avdol and Polnareff flirting with each other in French, and your occasional “Can’t come” notice. Guess which one of those immediately swallows both of the others.”

“Why do you think they’re flirting ?” Kakyoin chuckled, moving his legs into a cross-legged position.

“I’ve used google translate before. It’s even worse than in person, just —t rust me on this. Do not learn French. Ever .”

“Jotaro, can I trust you on this? There is a slight chance Polnareff is revealing his recipe for that cherry cake thing he made for movie night.” Kakyoin’s gaze hardened as he leaned forward in his chair. “You know that curiosity will kill me until I see for myself.”

“Trust me. Trust me as much as you can,” Jotaro replied with a stern face. So stern, in fact, it made Kakyoin chuckle. After sighing, Jotaro shifted in his seat.

“While we’re on the topic of trust, mind finally telling me why you made me come over on a Wednesday evening, after practice, during a rainstorm ? I think I deserve to know after scaring the shit out of your RA when I walked in looking like some kind of swamp monster. Does it have something to do with your hand?”

At the mention of his hand, Kakyoin’s immediate reaction was to clasp the splint around his wrist. Only it wasn’t there anymore. Instead of encasing his hand in its sturdy embrace, it rested peacefully on his nightstand, covering half open books and an array of cables. As a result, when he reached for the familiar texture of fabric, his fingers met his own skin instead. It was still sensitive, and softer than the rest of his arm on account of being mostly sheltered from outside influence for half a year. The sensation was almost alien, being able to move his arm without the added weight —and yet the splint was still a part of Kakyoin, just as much as the experiences and feelings that led him to this point— to this decision .

A warm feeling overcame the redhead when he eventually nodded. “It does, actually.”

Kakyoin’s voice had lowered into a softer and more tender tone.

“I…” For a second, he paused, clutching his wrist tighter before restarting. “Playing the piano is not just my profession, it’s my calling… my passion . It’s one of the things I treasure most in life.”

The redhead solemnly shifted his gaze to his hands.

“After the accident I didn’t even dare to do so much as touch a piano, let alone play one. It’s not that I didn’t want to, just—everytime I sat down in front of the ones in the practice rooms in lib arts, or even the one here in my room…” He looked up again, meeting Jotaro’s worried gaze. “I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I felt like I didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t like I could play properly with one hand in a splint, anyways.”

When Jotaro quietly muttered his name, Kakyoin began to smile softly.

“But now the splint is gone. And I have a piano right here. And…” His breath hitched. “Thanks in part to you, I finally feel like I can enjoy it again, after all this time.”

Slowly Kakyoin rose from his chair, wordlessly moving towards the ivory colored instrument behind him and lifting the heavy-looking wooden lid to reveal the keybed, free of dust and grime. The pedals and music stand reflected the light of the lamp overhead with an inviting gleam. Small embellishments on the metal, obscured by two sets of in-ear headphones, reminded Kakyoin of the piano that his father used to play. The click of the plastic power switch echoed in the small room for a brief moment.

Kakyoin took a deep breath.

“I invited you over because you’re a very special person to me, Jotaro. I really, sincerely doubt I would be where I am today without you… I don’t know if I really want to to think about what would’ve happened, to be honest. What counts is that this, here, with you and the others, is the happiest I’ve been in years . I’ve… You are my best friend … and more than anything I want you to be the first person to hear me play again.”

This was it. He put it out there.

Jotaro’s eyes widened slightly when the redhead finished speaking. His whole body seemed to tense up, and yet his eyes gleamed with what Kakyoin could only interpret as a shine of insecurity and curiosity. 

“Are you sure about this? Me?” He muttered under his breath, not breaking eye contact with the Kakyoin. If he didn’t know any better, Kakyoin would almost have thought he was blushing.

Calmly he motioned for Jotaro to join him. The piano bench was easily big enough for two, after all. While he waited for the taller teen to move over, the two pairs of headphones he had plugged in earlier rested in his clasped hand.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life , Jotaro. Please .”

Hastily, the other nodded. With the way Jotaro carried himself, he really made the impression that he was nervous more than anything. Even when Kakyoin moved a little further to the right to make space for him, the manner in which he nodded and sat down radiated an unspoken tension building between them. Not a bad kind of tension though, despite the way that the points where Kakyoin could feel Jotaro’s warmth might have burned themselves into his memory.

Solemnly, the redhead turned his gaze towards the piano in front of him.

He didn’t have time to waste.

The expanse of black and white before him reminded Kakyoin of the wonder he had felt when he watched his father play the instrument back in his childhood. He had been so fascinated by it, admired every movement of a muscle, every press of a key like a work of art on its own. On account of years of training in both theory and practice, that wonder had disappeared. Yet it could not, however, snuff out the spark of sheer joy it set free in his heart when he got to hear the sounds he created. He couldn’t wait to have that feeling again.

Carefully, with calculated and practiced motions, Kakyoin flexed his fingers, gaining curious stares from Jotaro in the process. The latter was in the process of putting in his set of headphones.

“What are you going to play?” He asked, his voice lowered, but tinged with an obvious anticipation. Jotaro didn’t seem to know where to put his own hands at first, his awkwardness giving Kakyoin something to smile about, before he settled on folding them in his lap with an apologetic smile.

“A piece my father taught me when I was little; Claude Debussy’s Clair de Lune,” Kakyoin replied, quickly plugging in his own headphones and adjusting the position of the pedals by his feet. “It’s not a very difficult piece, and the tempo is moderately slow. I still need to hold back a little with my hand and all… but it means a lot to me. He played it when I decided to pursue the instrument myself, you know? Formative experiences and all that.”

Nostalgia-tinged memories of the old house came back to mind—images of the well lit piano room, his father’s playing, the soft carpet, and the faint smell of well polished wood. Rain was one of the words that came to mind, for some reason he couldn’t quite remember anymore. Lamps in the corner turned into stage lights, the homey feel of the memory shifted to the grandiose atmosphere of the concert hall and its billowing red curtains . T he applause resounded in his mind like a symphony.

He could feel his heartbeat accelerating, his palms getting sweaty. The way his father played. He hadn’t managed to play in his own style ever since what happened… would he be able to now?

“Ready whenever you are.”

The sound of Jotaro’s voice grounded Kakyoin back in reality. He began to smile to himself and settled his hands on the familiar keybed in front of him.

It would all be okay. Jotaro was here with him. He could let himself enjoy this.

A breath in, a breath out. An unwavering calm. A press of a key.

Gently, the notes trickled from his fingertips; soft, melancholic tones, almost subdued by the sound of his own breath, just faint enough to hear resounding in his head. The pressure he put on the white keys was minimal, increasing ever so slightly with each note while the volume and intensity began to rise —and then Kakyoin could see them again; the raindrops rolling down expanses of cold rock in the dead of night with each tone, the expanse of forested woodlands bathed in the light of the full moon the piece was named after.

The trickle turned into the stream again, winding and forming around the rocks littering the woodland floor, flowing down the deep blue woodland scenery with deeper chords and faster progressions. The festive sound overtook his mind, his senses, his self —until they mellowed again, falling back into the comforting melody he knew like the back of his hand.

Kakyoin’s hand was shaking a little as it danced across the keyboard. The motifs were like a lullaby to his heart, a soothing blanket in midnight blue, a reassuring voice that allowed him to indulge.

And Kakyoin beamed. 

He grinned so widely while he heard his sound in his ears, listened to his own performance after all the time it had spent dormant in his heart and let himself play the way he had missed so much. An impressionist painting of sound, a canvas filled with the imagery of the deepest parts of his mind and soul, painted with vivid colors, both bright and dark, broad and slim strokes while the piano soared high in his heart. 

His hands, likewise, soared , flying across the ballroom of black and white in front of him, each press more passionate than the last —until the melody calmed, ending the third act of the piece. The waterfall that had opened itself outside of the rushing stream was once again replaced by a gentle trickle, a melancholic smile.

Peace was what he found in the resonance. Tranquility, calm—the view of the sea at the end of the journey, shimmering in the light of the moon as if to compete with the beauty of the stars above. Kakyoin thought back to the half year that had passed ; from the pain, the hardships, the connections, and closure he’d found to the love blooming in his heart. And thus the sorrow of the piece became his sorrow, the piece’s resolution his own.

The ever-repeating motif carried him, guided him through the last subtle raise and  the quieting uncertainty. The high notes sounded the way he imagined the star’s twinkle at the break of dawn until the last note faded with the beginning of a new day.

Slowly he raised his hands from the keyboard, turning them around and looking at his palms. A tear fell down to his skin, cool and wet, while more began to drip from his cheeks downward towards his hands. Kakyoin did not know when he started crying, but he knew that he had played. He had played the way he wanted to, the way he needed to — and Jotaro had been there with him.

Kakyoin’s breath hitched when he felt the sensation of skin on skin, a hand on his cheek gently wiping the tears away. When he turned around, it felt Jotaro was a lot closer in his personal space than he had been before.

Turquoise eyes directly gazed back into his amethyst ones, gleaming in the exposure of the lamp above, searching for something he couldn’t pin down. Like this, Kakyoin could see everything; small blemishes on his skin, the faint tracks of where the rain had run down his face earlier, freckles scattered in seemingly random spots around his jawline. His hair had dried to an extent and framed his face so perfectly Kakyoin thought this might have been a dream. The only anchor to reality was the warmth and solidity of Jotaro’s rougher hand resting on his cheek, as if to caress it.

Kakyoin couldn’t look anywhere else, but was unable to let his gaze settle. His pulse began racing in his throat, his ears, his chest. His mind urged him to think , but the rapid beating of his heart drowned out any rational thoughts he could have had, caught up in the moment in a way it had never been before. 

Kakyoin usually didn’t dare to entertain the thought that his feelings were reciprocated, that this wasn’t a crush to get over, a fantasy banished to the darkest depths of his aching heart—the plan had been to confess his infatuation after he had played, to be done and over with his feelings and be able to stay this important to Jotaro and nothing more, if it was what he was destined for… 

And yet, the proof of the opposite was staring right back at him with dilated pupils, slightly parted lips and a questioning gaze, a hand resting so close yet so far away .

Kakyoin wasn’t sure what overcame him. Maybe it was bravery, maybe it was idiocy, but he did know that it felt like time had frozen when he leaned in to kiss Jotaro.

Immediately the sense of closeness flooded his body. It crashed over him like a tidal wave. He could feel Jotaro’s heartbeat accelerating, how his chapped lips formed gently against his while their hearts hammered against their chests. He felt the soft texture of Jotaro’s hair in between his fingers, the dampness of his shirt against his body. With every breath he took, the salty scent of rain and driftwood kept drawing him in, calling him closer with the drug that was reciprocation.

Their bodies melted, forming into each other in something less but more than an embrace, something less but more than a kiss, and for the first time in his life Kakyoin felt completely like he was at home. 

Until he opened his eyes.

 Within a single moment of eye contact, he realized Jotaro’s entire body was stiff, unmoving, and hastily broke the kiss. The other’s eyes darted away — to the floor, to the wall, but never back to him.

Kakyoin’s heart sank.

“Kakyoin I—” The taller teen’s voice broke, wavered with uncertainty and fear. Fidgety movements betrayed his inner thoughts.

Kakyoin, not Noriaki.

Dejected, the redhead gaped back at him, stunned by the sudden shift. From one second to the other, the emotions rushing around in his mind had flipped on their heads.

Had he… misread the situation?

He wanted to speak, he needed to speak , to apologize , to say something, anything —but all that came out was a mindless stutter, drowned out by Jotaro’s frantic muttering.

“See, Joseph wanted me to help him with something so I have to leave, right now. Okay? Okay. Good. Yes. Fine.”

Within seconds, the taller teen had gathered his belongings in a disorderly heap in his arms, frantically clutching his arms around his jacket, and threw his wet hat back onto his head in a frenzy. When Kakyoin finally regained enough composure to rocket up from his seat, Jotaro had already begun dashing mindlessly down the hallway. Not caring about the judgemental eyes of his dormmates, he cried after him… 

…but Jotaro had already descended the stairs, leaving the redhead alone and cold…

… again .

Just as fast as Kakyoin had gotten to experience this sensation of completeness, of longing and home , it had been ripped away, replaced by an endless black hole where his heart should be. Even the storm lashing against his window couldn’t drown out the sound of Jotaro’s footsteps resonating in his head while he clutched his pillow.

He had made a terrible mistake.

Chapter Text

It was still the same rough, red carpeting, the same warm, yellow light, the same dark wooden furniture scattered in the corners of the room that usually invited you to sit on it and diverge the conversation into joyful banter. He could hear the same music from the break room ever-so-faintly through the door, smell the last remnants of any scented cleaning products they’d had to use when scrubbing stains off the floors. It was still the same building, the same path taken to and from his dorm, the same resonance of sound in the practice room that he had grown to love over the few months he’d gotten to spend in it…

And yet, the feeling of home in Kakyoin’s chest was gone, and the familiar environment only served to make him uneasy. The room seemed clammy and cold, despite the fact that, essentially, nothing had changed.

Even while  they were playing the last song of the session, Kakyoin could feel Jotaro’s eyes boring restlessly into his back.

Practice felt more like an uncomfortable family get-together than anything else at this point.

An aching sting had crept up Kakyoin’s throat as he sang, just as it had for the last few days when he attempted to get through the songs for the gig. As much as he had tried to ignore it, it kept coming back, not strangling his voice per se, but giving him a disgusting feeling in the back of his throat that made him want to put the microphone he clung to to the ground and leave without another glance back.

Scratch that, actually.

More than anything , Kakyoin wanted to glance back, to look in Jotaro’s eyes, to search for the answer he never got that evening. He wanted to make things go back to the way they were before—but he could always feel Jotaro tense up when he attempted to reach out to him in any way at all, let alone speak openly about what happened back at his dorm room. 

Seeing that reaction from his best friend made the regret only sting worse in Kakyoin’s chest, adding needle after needle with every failed attempt.

And the worst part was that he knew that this was all his fault, his own goddamn stupidity ruining everything .

He knew better than anyone that he fucked up. He’d misread the signs that Jotaro was giving him, he’d reacted much too soon and made a mess he couldn’t get rid of, a mistake that haunted him during the night—a problem he couldn’t rely on Jotaro to help him fix. Fucking hell, he’d never even asked if Jotaro was even interested in men.  It was comical, really, almost funny in retrospect how much his own stupid wishful thinking had clouded his judgement and set him on the express train to ruin-everything-with-a-single-kiss town .

The fact that Jotaro hadn’t said a single word to him in days was proof enough that he hadn’t wanted it—and the worst part was that Kakyoin still hoped he could do it again.

Kakyoin knew that he’d breached Jotaro’s trust in a way he shouldn’t have, in a way he should never have even thought about, in a way the other could just as well choose not to forgive. He didn’t even necessarily want forgiveness—all he needed was to tell him how incredibly sorry he was for what he’d done. 

But no matter how hard he tried, he just never seemed to get the chance. When Kakyoin had gone to pre-record the synth parts and piano pieces they’d need for the performance earlier this week, Jotaro hadn’t shown up like he said he would, leaving Avdol to give him instructions from beyond the glass while Smokey tested the quality of the tracks. The studio felt very empty that day.

Kakyoin felt very empty that day. 

It was almost like a switch had been flipped. Jotaro was suddenly nearly always preoccupied before and after practice, and even during their time in the studio he seemed absent. Instead of acknowledgingKakyoin, Jotaro would fiddle around with his guitar and various effect pads that he had brought from his apartment during the few breaks they took instead of engaging with the others. 

The few times they actually did talk, conversation was dry and without much content—the kind of smalltalk you’d have with a stranger while standing in line at the supermarket. Kakyoin’s heart stung with every mundane word they exchanged, so after a few days he resolved to not even interact at all.

In retrospect, he didn’t know what felt worse.

He missed Jotaro. He missed his stupid analogies, his blunt comments, his presence by his side, his restrained laugh, his silly hat, the way he mumbled to himself sometimes—and yet both remained silenced, looking wordlessly at each other’s backs while the days approached the date of the concert faster and faster; and with it, the day they’d have to part ways.

The notion left Kakyoin feeling even sicker than before.

When the last chord of the song rang out, the last word was sung and the last string was plucked, the room was left in silence. Neither Kakyoin nor Jotaro said a word, neither of them looked around, searched for the other’s gaze. The silence was deafening, but even so, Kakyoin couldn’t bring himself to speak. 

Polnareff and Avdol didn’t seem to take it well either, despite not knowing about what had happened. While Avdol leaned back against the wall, bass still slung around his shoulders, he stared up into the bright light of the lamp above with clenched fists. Polnareff, unlike Avdol, was not able to keep his composure.

“Okay, I’ve tried saying this the nice way for just about a week now, but I can’t fucking take this anymore!” He stared intently at the singer and guitarist in front of him, despite being slouched over to rest his head in his hands. “What in the living hell happened to your synergy?! We have a gig in two days. We can’t be getting lazy all of a sudden and hope that the people are drunk enough to not care about our trashy performance ! Do you have anything to say for yourselves?!”

He let out a deep sigh while he slumped back on his small foldable metal chair. Over the course of the practice, the Frenchman’s hair had fallen out of its updo into several loose strands barely held together by a black hair tie. Exhaustion painted his every feature and Kakyoin almost felt guilty for the apologetic gaze he sent Polnareff’s way. Looking towards Avdol for support proved useless. The egyptian, holding a nearly empty water bottle in hand, only sighed. If he dropped it, not even the loud clatter of the plastic bottle on the floor would break the tension.

“Jotaro, your timing was completely off in some places, and you kept strumming like you’re aiming for your hand to fall off! Where’s the nuance?! And Kakyoin, didn’t you say you’d practice breath support on the high notes? Sure didn’t sound like it! You’re aware that we’re counting on working not just as single musicians, but as a band, aren’t you?”

Kakyoin looked to the ground, clenching his hand around the microphone so hard his knuckles started turning white. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed how  they — no, he’d been getting worse ever since he’d essentially ruined his friendship with Jotaro. 

By the sound of it, Jotaro wasn’t taking it well either.

The redhead glanced over at the other, but he didn’t respond at all, zipping his guitar shut in the fabric case without another gesture or word to speak of.

Their silence did nothing to diffuse the situation.

At the lack of a reply, Polnareff only let out a heavy, annoyed sigh, muttering under his breath while he stashed his cymbals in their respective case.

“Seriously. I have no fucking idea what happened between you two, but you need to get your shit together one way or another. You’re both of our leads, goddamnit. What if we mess up our only chance? We’ve been dancing on the line of damn near irrelevance for months , this is the first really important gig we’ve ever had! If we fuck up , we might not get another chance at an own performance, you know?! The fact that Joseph even asked us to cover for The Ripple is a huge amount of trust to put into amateurs like us.”

Kakyoin never knew that it was possible for someone to sound angry while zipping a bag shut, but Polnareff proved him wrong.

“We’ve been pouring everything into this for like a month straight, working our asses off almost every single day. This may be our one and only chance to show the owners of the Supplena that we can handle an own performance, not just an opening gig, and you two don’t even have the guts to face each other? To talk?!” He let out a groan of exasperation. “Especially you, Jotaro. We’ve had this conversation before, haven’t we? Except last time you were an emotionally stunted first-year! I thought we were past this phase! I thought you guys were good at communicating with each other!”

If only Kakyoin hadn’t kissed him.

At this, Jotaro only scoffed, hoisting his case on his back without even a glance back. Though it wasn’t obvious, Kakyoin could see the tenseness in the way his hands clutched the fabric like a lifeline.

If only Kakyoin could help Jotaro through this.

“Polnareff, stop, please. This whole thing isn’t his fault!” Kakyoin’s voice rose in pitch as he spoke, looking up from the ground and at the Frenchman in a futile and ultimately fruitless attempt to get his attention; to hold Jotaro back. Before either of them could say another word, the door slammed closed loudly behind Jotaro’s back, leaving the hallway to faintly echo with the sound.

If only he could make things right again.

It wasn’t until Avdol rested a well-meaning hand on Polnareff’s back that he was able to calm down somewhat, tense shoulders dropping in quiet contemplation.

“Kakyoin… would you please just tell us what happened between you two? We can try to help.”

Out of habit Kakyoin’s right hand clenched around the one where his splint used to be, only to be met with the unfamiliar feeling of his own trembling arm.

“...I ruined everything.”

When the door to his apartment clicked closed behind him it took all Jotaro had in him to not sink down against it and slide down to the cold tile. He did not remember walking back to his apartment, nor did he really want to think about the feeling of regret that clawed its way deep into his back  when he realised what kind of a fucking coward he was for just… running away .

The strings in the guitar case made a soft humming noise when he dropped it down in its usual spot next to the sofa, but with everything that’s happened clouding his senses, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Without even thinking, his feet dragged him to his room where he slumped square onto his unmade, crumpled bed sheets. 

Sinking back into the mattress didn’t feel as nice as it should have , he thought, absentmindedly throwing his cap off in some direction he hoped a pile of laundry was already festering. It wasn’t like it mattered anyways.

Dim white light from the lamp he just recently replaced flickered overhead like an oversized firefly. It doused the small space momentarily in absolute darkness, before the lingering shadows were forced to retreat to the clammy spaces between the sparse furniture and walls. 

It was dusty, and the air was dry and hot, but if he were to open the window, he’d hear the people talking in the street and the cars outside and that would only serve to make him feel worse than he already did.

Which was honestly not that big of a challenge, because he was feeling awful as it was.

With nothing left to distract him from his thoughts, Jotaro stared at the ceiling wordlessly. Next to him his phone buzzed for what must have been the eightieth time since he left the studio, glowing with a sharp white light too intense for his resting eyes.

Though the notifications present were shown as new, they sure weren’t news to him. At least eleven missed calls blinked on the screen, three of which he knew were Kakyoin’s.

His heart clenched.

Jotaro hated the way the other had looked at him at practice today, hated that he himself couldn’t look away if he wanted to. He hated that he didn’t know what to do and what to feel. He should be happy, shouldn’t he? He wanted to be happy about it, hell, everything he had wanted ever since he realised that what he felt for Noriaki was more than friendship had been quite literally shoved in his face.

He groaned, unlocking his phone out of habit.

If he was supposed to feel happy, then why did he feel so insecure instead?

His fingers hovered over the familiar number, hesitating for a few seconds before Jotaro gathered the resolve to press down.

If anyone would listen to him now…

Tentatively he waited out the evenly spaced beeps from his speakers. Finally, a smooth female voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Jolyne, I’m an idiot and I want to die.”

“Wow, shithead, I don’t even get a hello back? Rude . How come you’re calling me for once and not mom? I’ve missed the way your voice clogs up my ear canals, you know? Sick of updates on all her favourite soap operas?”

Jotaro couldn’t help but smile when he heard his sister’s voice, despite the circumstances.

“I would rather listen to your smartassy, sarcastic remarks and then hurl myself in front of the nearest truck to hopefully die a painful and slow death than talk to mom about my love life. You are, sadly, the only competent human being I have in my contacts that I can talk to about this. Oh woeful me.”

“I swear to God, Joot, if you’re just going to make this a verbalised version of your self-loathing emo poems from middle school for my exclusive listening pleasure…”

The sentence was abruptly cut off by the telltale sound of Jolyne flopping upside down onto the nearest sofa.

“I will hang up right now to go hang myself out of sheer secondhand embarrasment. The fact that I lived under the same roof as wannabe Gerard Way for a majority of my early junior high life just wasn’t punishment enough, was it?”

Jotaro chuckled softly. “I missed you too, Joly.”

He could practically hear her grin through the speaker when she responded.

“ Always a pleasure.”

The shifting sounds of plush fabric and ironically bought stuffed animals hitting the floor echoed quietly through the speaker.

“So, is this about your piano man or did Joseph annoy you so much you needed to complain to your little sister again?”

“His name is Noriaki. You know that, ” Jotaro replied, rolling his eyes.

“Ah, figured as much when you mentioned your love life. So? Spill the good news already, dearest brother of mine. When will the long awaited wedding be?”

“The day that you get with that Anasui guy that keeps bothering you, apparently .”

Jolyne winces audibly.

“Oof. What happened?”

“ Everything . Everything and nothing and I don’t know what to do.” Jotaro groaned, half at the phone in his hands, half at his own incomprehensible stupidity . “I thought I knew, but I don’t know anything anymore, let alone what I want .”

“Woah, easy. Don’t go rambling like me when I fucked up my first confession to Hermès,” Jolyne muttered in a calming voice. “Baby steps, okay? What happened and when? Give a girl a chance to understand what’s going on.”

Jotaro sighed, trying to collect his thoughts.

At least with her, he could always be sure he was getting an honest opinion, even if it was brutal at times.

Between the two of them, it had always been something like that. Where Jotaro was withdrawn and struggled with conveying his emotions, Jolyne was brash, bright and bold — even more so ever since they moved away from Japan. 

It wasn’t always an advantageous trait to always speak your mind regardless of who you were talking to. This was something Jolyne had had to learn the hard way after attending middle school as a girl in Japan, but her brutal honesty was one of her traits Jotaro had grown to appreciate over the years. Besides, neither of them couldn’t handle a good bit of sarcasm anyways.

“God, fuck — ” Jotaro sighed, sitting up against the drywall behind him. “ — okay . So, remember how I was supposed to meet with Noriaki last Wednesday?”

He could hear Jolyne hum in response. “What about it?”

“Well, when I came over he had his splint off and actually played the piano for me for the first time and…”

“ And ?”

“...and he kissed me . ”

The other side of the speaker goes suspiciously quiet for a moment.

“I fail to see the problem here,” Jolyne eventually deadpans, her voice clearly tinged with confusion. “I thought you were head over heels for Mr. Pianist last time we called. Are you not into him anymore? Or am I misunderstanding something here completely?”

“No!” Jotaro interrupts her with a sigh. “ No — just--I do still like him. A lot. More than anyone I’ve ever… liked . And it’s not like I didn’t want him to kiss me, and it was amazing, but uh...”

The longer his sentence went on, the quieter Jotaro’s voice got.

Jolyne’s voice, in turn, grew harder, “Jotaro, what did you do?” She asked slowly.

“I — uh — may or may not have employed the secret Joestar technique.” He muttered.

“The secret — wait . Jotaro, you did not run away after your crush kissed you, right?” Jolyne’s voice grew desperate. “ Please tell me that was a joke.”

“ I panicked !”

Jolyne’s groan almost sounded like she was in physical pain. “Oh my god . And here I thought I was a mess. Congratulations, you just took the fucking cake. Also, you’re only thinking of calling me up about this after a week?! ”

“Shut up, okay? I’ve just been… thinking , that’s all.” When he couldn’t find it and drag it down into his face, Jotaro suddenly wished he hadn’t thrown his hat on the laundry pile.

“For an entire week ? Jotaro, you guys are best friends, share a class, and are in the same band, and you ran away after he kissed you like a panicked fourth grader trying not to catch cooties. Don’t you dare ‘shut up’ me .”

After a moment the teenager regained her composure.

“ You have at least been talking to him right? Please tell me you’ve been talking to him.”

Jotaro stayed silent, just as he had the last week.

“If only you found brains in the sea, and not your stupid starfish .”

In the background, Jotaro could hear Jolyne getting up, probably to go sit down in her swishy desk chair. Somehow he wished he was home right now, huddled on her floor instead of his cold, lonely bed.

“I was scared .” Jotaro murmurs quietly. “I... I know he’ll not be around as much as he is now when the gig is done, just because he’s got his own life, which I completely respect; he’s a goddamn concert pianist , how can you not admire that ? I’m so proud of him for managing to work through his issues and healing. He’s smart and funny and snarky… when I’m around him I feel safe and calm and I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest when it happened… but I haven’t healed yet. I’ve talked to him about… dad before, but… I’m afraid. I don’t want to be like him, I don’t want to put Kakyoin through what he put mom through. ”

Jotaro sighed, sinking back down into the mattress while he felt his heart clench.

His problems wouldn’t just suddenly disappear if he entered a relationship with Kakyoin. Even if they did talk about them before, to help soothe his thoughts and mind, to help him accept part of who and what he was… 

...there was still that image in the back of his head of a broken mother, sitting alone at the table, insisting she would eat when their father came home, the muffled sounds of crying when Jotaro went by her door at night, of meaningless postcards and lonely birthdays, of missed anniversaries and an endless cycle of “next time”s. 

Even if she was getting better, even if Kakyoin was getting better, he himself wasn’t better —at least not just yet.

“I don’t know if I can trust myself with this. He just… deserves someone more than me, you know? Someone who isn’t afraid of committing to this whole relationship thing because every formative relationship he’s ever witnessed involved someone getting hurt. Someone who doesn’t ruin his entire band’s morale days before their performance because he can’t get his stupid feelings under control.”

He groaned, bringing his hand to his face. “ Fuck, I never meant to drag any of them into this stupid trauma bullshit.”

“Hey, deep breaths. One thing at a time,” Jolyne shushed through the speaker, her voice significantly less accusatory and exasperated than before.

“Do you think Kakyoin feels any better now than he did when he wasn’t coping? You certainly seem to be doing worse. Imagine what it must feel like being ghosted in person by the guy he quite literally opened himself up to the most after kissing him. Hell, that whole piano thing was probably a huge moment of vulnerability for him, don’t you think?”

“I know, I just…”

“Even if you’re unsure about what to do, you owe him an explanation. Talk to him about what you’re feeling, what you are afraid of . Just be honest, and reconsider your own feelings about this whole situation. Judging by how you gush at him at every opportunity, you’re a lovestruck fool if I’ve ever seen one, and — ” His sister’s voice took on a softer tone. “ — you aren’t even half as big an asshole as dad was, even if I constantly call you one. Kakyoin fell for you for a reason, and you fell for him. Before you decide what’s best for him yourself, maybe get some insight from his perspective. Feelings are like a complicated, shitty salad of tangled strings, but it’s up to you to decide which one you cut, you know?”

“You can say that again.” Jotaro sighed with a faint smile, even if the thought that Kakyoin actually liked him romantically still felt alien to him.

Quietly, Jolyne’s laughter echoed through the speaker. “I know how you feel, honestly. We are, in some ways, the same idiot — trust me — but even idiots like us deserve a chance, don’t we? Try and view it this way: We’ve both seen how dad’s absence affected mom, and you especially have tried to do everything to avoid that from ever happening again. Noriaki knows that.”

After the doorbell rang, faint swishy noises indicated Jolyne shuffling towards the door.

”Go fix your shit with the rest of your band before your performance. Try to talk to your guy about your salad of issues and see what happens. That’s what I would do, anyway. What’s there to lose? It’s not like you have any dignity left after that stunt you pulled.”

“Oh god, don’t remind me. How can I even be sure he likes me anymore?”

“That’s what the talking part is for, genius . Even if he doesn’t feel that way about you anymore you can at least go back to being friends, right? Look, I know this won’t be easy, but just… don’t give up before you’ve tried, okay?”

Before Jotaro could answer, he could hear an unfamiliar voice speaking quiet greetings under their breath. The way that Jolyne began to giggle afterwards only reassured the notion he’d had that she had found her own happiness. Maybe it wasn’t impossible for him to make someone happy either.

“Call me back when your gig is done! I expect photos and good news!”

“I will. Talk to you later.” He hung up.

It was still the same white, almost grayish dry wall, the same flickering light, the same teetering stacks of research papers and reference documents in haphazard piles next to the bed. He could hear the footsteps of his neighbors above him like a soft drumbeat through the ceiling, smell the last remnants of cake from their last movie night from the kitchen. 

It was still the same building, the same path taken to and from the studio, the same empty halls he’d gotten to make a home out of ever since he found the people around him to fill them with.

And yet, the love he had resigned himself to lose blossomed warmly in his chest once more. The familiar interface of the group chat on his phone only motivated him to at least make an attempt.

Even if he hadn’t healed yet, even if he wasn’t sure of himself — he could learn to be, he could try. H e would do it not just for himself, but for them.

The idea of facing his fears didn’t seem quite as impossible anymore, despite the fact that, essentially, nothing had changed.

Chapter Text

In disregard of the deep wish in Kakyoin’s heart to stop the time that he was so sorely lacking, the clock on the wall ticked steadily onwards.

There were no more days to count, no more months to wait ; instead, there were only the hands on the white plastic clock that mockingly hung just above the metal exit door. They taunted him in his own stupor of hopeless stupidity with every minute movement.

Despite the hard work, the blood, sweat and tears, the nerves he’d lost and the perspective he’d gained in return, the event marked red in his pocket calendar had never felt so real before. It was like the concept of time itself had slapped him directly in the face when the realisation hit the exact moment they stepped into the Air Supplena—the performance was only hours away. 

Suddenly it didn’t feel like the homey—if not a bit noisy—live music club they went to on Fridays to jab teasingly at The Ripple’s playing anymore. Gone was the warmth emanating from the red brick, the secondhand nostalgia of those framed records and autographs covering the walls. The certainty that usually guided their steps through the chattering crowd towards their favourite table was unsteady; they had crossed into unknown territory and there was no going back now.

People from the staff Kakyoin vaguely recognised from the times they themselves had come as patrons buzzed around busily. With each one of them, a sense of haste clung to their rapid steps and motions.

Where under normal circumstances phones and glasses would freely clutter the scratched surface of dark wood, plastic containers of armbands were placed and taken away to the front. Lists were written and questions were answered by the staff, who had taken it upon themselves to make sure all four performing acts of the night would go up according to schedule. 

Only when the unfamiliar faces dispersed and the band was left by themselves did the feeling of dread that had been gradually building up inside him settled into Kakyoin’s gut.

Throughout the last soundcheck, the sensation had kept clawing its way up his throat, through his bones. The dread stung all the way down into his hands and chest, where it settled, clutching like an iron shackle around his heart. At this point he wasn’t sure what it was that forced him to lose his composure like this: A newly discovered stage fright, the thought of what was to come after the concert had finished, or the chokehold that he still felt taking hold of him whenever he found himself searching for support he didn’t feel he deserved in Jotaro’s gaze.

Even now, after pouring his heart out to Avdol and Polnareff, the uncertainty sat lodged deeply in his chest, unmoving, uneasy, unbearable .

It was true that Jotaro had reached out to all of them shortly after his departure from the studio, just as much as it was true that he was really trying to make the proceedings go over as smoothly as possible. Within hours of the apologetic messages he’d sent to the chat he’d started doing work twofold, making sure that any uncertainties about the setlist and times were as good as gone. Even now, what amounted to less than ten minutes from the performance he was just behind Kakyoin, going over a specific handful of sections Polnareff was uncertain about. 

And yet Kakyoin’s heart ached when he thought about what he had done to Jotaro, about how despite the work the taller teen seemed to throw himself into, they had yet to have a meaningful conversation about what had transpired after the kiss.

Kakyoin suppressed a sigh, instead leaning back into the metal chair he was occupying. Almost subconsciously, his hand found its way to his wrist while he mindlessly watched the ceiling fan make its rounds.

Guilt. That was what still consumed his mind.

For what they were, the words Jotaro directed at the band had been... reassuring. For what he knew, they were genuine—he certainly hoped they were. But nothing , not the stress of setup, not the last rehearsal, not the hours spent practicing alone in his dorm could erase the memory of that shocked expression carved into Jotaro’s face. Nothing could muffle the sound of footsteps echoing down his dorm’s hallway replaying in Kakyoin’s head.

He was painfully aware of the advice that Avdol and Polnareff had given him. “ Talk to him” was, however, much easier said than done, especially when both Jotaro and he seemed to avoid the topic like the plague.

Was it even worth trying anymore? If anything, this had made it clear that he didn’t feel the same.

Kakyoin’s grip on his wrist grew tighter. 

He could not tell if he was imagining the cold running down his spine.

Wistfully, he thought back to how they first met at this very same club, to how he even came to join the band, to how he got to experience real, honest friendship for the first time in god knows how long. Jotaro, Polnareff, Avdol—even Suzie and the rest of the Ripple—had somehow come to... take him in, accept him as part of their group, and give him something to look forward to in life. 

He’d finally been able to open himself to somebody, to receive validation for his feelings, to give back that validation both of them needed so badly. He’d laughed until he cried and cried until he was laughing again, learned stupid inside jokes and even stupider nicknames, had made blunder upon blunder during practice and yet somehow still found himself standing up again with their unwavering support that he so rarely felt he deserved.

And somehow he’d started to heal, to feel, to laugh, to really love for the first time .

Yet love was a fickle, messy thing in his fickle, messy head, even after he had accepted the true nature of his feelings.

And of course he had to have grown greedy , had to have developed those feelings for Jotaro—the one person that had shown him a kindness he’d never seen from anyone in the world before, the one person who sung him a song that matched his heartbeat like it was made for them to share.  

Of course he would lose control of his emotions with Jotaro’s smile always just around the corner. Of course he would ruin everything for all of them at the most inopportune time because he was too blind to realize that Jotaro would never feel the same. Of course it was his fault. Of course Jotaro wouldn’t be able to forgive him. Why would he? Kakyoin certainly didn’t feel like he deserved it.

Because no matter how much Kakyoin yearned to feel his embrace again, how much he wanted to speak to him about the most meaningless things, how much he ached for the carefree flutter in his chest to come back whenever he saw his stupid hat behind marbley glass, he knew he couldn’t turn back time. He knew Jotaro was in no way obligated to give back what Kakyoin had so cruelly taken from him.

They had met because of what amounted to a silly mistake on Kakyoin’s part. An oversight, an unintended circumstance, if you will. From the beginning, both of them knew it couldn’t last. Both of them had separate lives to lead, commitments to attend to, priorities to set straight for the future. Sooner or later, after the splint had been taken off, Kakyoin would have to return to playing the piano while Jotaro worked on his degree. Eventually, they’d see each other less and less anyways, until they’d lose the remaining sight they had of one another and drift apart, never to see the other again.

Maybe it was never meant to happen.

Momentarily, the redhead’s breath caught in his throat.

Maybe it was karmic justice that everything would come to an end where it all started.

The lonely void in his chest stung. The pain in his throat stung harder.

Maybe Jotaro would be better off if he just let him go.

Either way, talking with Jotaro face-to-face would be inevitable.

Better have a clean break than suffer the hardships that come with unsaid words.

An announcement crackled from a small speaker in the ceiling behind the metal doors, breaking Kakyoin out of his trance.

“Five more minutes. Get ready to go on stage, guys. Break a leg!”

Soft scramblings of cords and cables from behind Kakyoin shifted into softer murmurs and excited babbling. Polnareff, now reassured in his prior insecurities, went about fishing another pair of drumsticks out of his bag with excited motions. Avdol took another swig of the tea he’d prepared in his metal thermos before reaching for the bright red bass leaning against the wall, humming faint validating noises in Polnareff’s direction all the while.

Kakyoin remained stiff by the mirror on the wall, letting go of his wrist briefly to fix his hair. In the reflection, he could see Jotaro looking at him from the other side of the sterile room.

Only the two of them remained suspiciously quiet while the tension in the room came to an agonizing peak.

Though they weren’t exactly looking at each other, Kakyoin could still discern the shadowed gleam that had taken over Jotaro’s eyes. As much as he wanted to force himself to, as much as he dared himself to, Kakyoin couldn’t look away. Not after avoiding taking the time to really look at him in what felt like an entire week.

The way his entire face seemed sunken, yet stiff at the same time, stood out immediately. Small creases under his eyes along with the light blue color that dusted the area gave away the fact that Kakyoin must not have been the only one lacking a good night’s sleep. The usual messiness of his hair, though hidden under one of his hats, only amplified the subtle sense of tiredness that clung desperately to Jotaro’s features. 

For a moment, Kakyoin’s thoughts drifted to the work Jotaro had been doing for the band as the cause, then Jotaro noticed Kakyoin’s resting gaze.

For that moment, the exhaustion turned soft. For that moment, the shadow in his gaze turned to a soft longing.

He opened his mouth.

Kakyoin looked away, briskly rising from the chair he’d confined himself to.

Now that they were facing each other again, Jotaro’s mouth snapped shut.

Within seconds, the remaining eyes in the room shifted towards them.Kakyoin instantly froze up in place. It felt like the room had been suspended in time.

“It’s taken a long time for us to get here.” Jotaro eventually said, gripping the strap of his guitar with a renewed vigor. His eyes met Kakyoin’s for a brief moment. “Let’s go out there and have fun tonight, got it guys?”

Polnareff began to grin widely, hooking his arms around their shoulders and yanking all of them into a big group hug.

“Let’s fuck ‘em up!”

Avdol gave a nod. “Do your best.”

All their eyes had fallen onto Kakyoin now, and he suddenly felt hot under his own skin.

They were right. The least they could do after all this work was have fun, wasn’t it? It was the reason they were all doing this in the first place. Even with all the hardships, the unresolved questions, and the chains dragging down at where his heart should be, he somehow always wandered back to wind up on the stage.

A soft, genuine smile returned to his face for the first time in days.

Their love of music was what brought them together. Even if they were going to be apart, they would at least be able to look back on this day with fond memories.

“Let’s do this.”

The shift in atmosphere beyond the backstage room was bordering on overwhelming.

Within seconds, the subdued sounds that managed to worm their way past metal doors and iron railings exploded into their full volume. Dry, cold air that had previously filled Kakyoin’s lungs and nose shifted rapidly into the warm mix of alcohol, sweat, and various perfumes that had become so familiar that it had stopped being appalling altogether. Bright lights rotated from side to side, mostly masking, but not fully obscuring the sea of people that crowded the pit with their neon colors. Rhythmic footsteps beat on the floor almost in sync with the hits made by the drummer Kakyoin could spy from the area behind the stage. 

Even now that the last notes were being played, the words spoken by the patrons slurred together with the lyrics sung by the opening band’s frontman, creating a hodgepodge of sound you’d never be able to hear in a simple recording.

Usually, Kakyoin loved watching the atmosphere of the Supplena on a busy night unfold in his view. Yet, where there should be excitement at the dimmed lights, a leap of his heart to accompany the shiver of the bass Kakyoin could feel in his bones, there was only subdued hope and fingers clutched tightly around one another.

In front of him, Jotaro turned around, giving him a well-meaning nod. Unable to do anything else, Kakyoin simply nodded back and adjusted his collar.

One of the stagehands, standing just behind the screen that served as a background for the projector, gave them a thumbs up. From the other side, the opening band shuffled inside quickly, eagerly talking amongst themselves. Avdol was the first to step out to the stage, followed quickly by Polnareff.

Jotaro raised his hand, as if to reach out to Kakyoin. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but changed his mind and remained silent instead. One last time, he glanced back at Kakyoin before he, too, stepped outside, quick to find his way to the appropriately marked spot on the wooden planks.

And so Kakyoin remained there, alone. He took a deep breath.

This was it.

No matter what would happen, no matter what had already happened—what was important was what was happening now . What mattered was what they had been working towards, what they had dreamed about, what they had practiced for months on end for.

Even if Jotaro would never forgive him, even if they would never talk again, the gig was happening. Here and now.

Kakyoin’s hand clutched his chest, his heart, the feeling of home he had been missing for so long now as it flared up like fire in his thoughts.

And in the fraction of a second, he stepped past the threshold and onto the stage, which would soon be illuminated by the burning spotlight.

For a fraction of a second, he felt like he truly existed in the moment.

For a fraction of a second, his eyes met the ones of the familiar people in front of him, the eyes of the people that were waiting for him to join them.

For a fraction of a second, he felt it all . Their expectations, his own anxieties, and the guilt throbbing in the back of his mind, overshadowed by the joy of performance overtaking his heart. 

“ Let’s do this, ” Kakyoin whispered to himself.

He clutched the microphone in his hands tightly.

“ Let’s have fun. One last time .” 

Behind him, a soft, almost subdued artificial bass began to emanate from the speakers, steadily wavering through the dark room like a wave creeping up the shore when it combined with Avdol’s own playing. A few seconds in, quick, practiced plucks of electric guitar strings interjected, upping the pace. Even as they faded away into the wave, they were joined and outlasted by a quiet, omnipresent heartbeat of cymbal and bass.

As the music swelled, the lights began to focus in around them.

For the first time that night, Kakyoin could see the audience that had gathered in the pit and on the elevated wooden platforms above. People from all walks of life—other students, staff at the bar, white and blue collar workers—dancing, gathered in smaller groups with expectant eyes set on the musicians on stage. Some were regulars whose faces and hair Kakyoin had grown to recognise over the weeks, others feigned recognition of their band, and others still excitedly prodded the people next to them to divert their attention to the focal point of the room. They were all ready to be whisked away from their dull everyday lives, ready to let their own heartbeat synchronize with that of the drums.

Their lively energy was addictive, Kakyoin concluded.

This felt different from the performances he was used to as a classically trained pianist, much less as a regular visitor of this venue. There were no orderly rows, no big billowing curtains or frugal dress codes to be mindful of. Each person had come to the familiar warm basement that made up the Air Supplena of their own volition, to enjoy themselves, to have fun, to let go. 

Seeing it all from on the battered stage rather than the sea of swaying bodies made the sensation almost overwhelming.

Wistfully, Kakyoin remembered how Jotaro got frustrated about how unplanned and almost random that specific guitar part in the beginning sounded in the recordings that they had listened to for reference. How despite when Jotaro doubted himself because he thought his own solo sounded static and forced, his mood always seemed to lighten at the prospect of the performance, only weeks away.

His eyes seemed to gleam with a hidden joy when he first managed to get the sound right.

Kakyoin shifted his gaze to Jotaro, who was standing next to him by another microphone. The other was completely focused on the strings between his fingertips.

He couldn’t help but wonder if Jotaro thought that all the work was worthwhile too, now that he had seen this view.  

While the heartbeat lingered in the air, the guitar re-entered the soundscape, this time with more intense, more calculated rhythmic plucks that complimented the bass drum growing louder and louder each hit.

With each of Polnareff’s beats, Jotaro’s fingers were dancing along the tabs , Kakyoin thought, mesmerized. They were dancing , much like his own fingers had when he played the piano for him. Except where Kakyoin’s waltzed in a ballroom, Jotaro’s were free , unrestrained by any rules other than melody and rhythm as they flew across the strings. And his sound joined the drums and bass, melodically and methodically building up the excitement in the audience’s movements.

The anticipation grew, and with it the tightness of the grip around Kakyoin’s microphone. Closing his eyes, he prayed for the uncertain feeling in his throat to subside as he took a deep breath.

As the guitar’s riffs began to be more steady and melodious, as the heartbeat reached the people’s open ears. He stood there, in the burning limelight, hand clutched around the unfamiliar microphone like a lifeline.

Kakyoin exhaled and began to sing.

At first, his voice faltered a bit, lost in the surrounding sound and grasping for pitch, and the impressions of all the different people around him overshadowing the vocals ever so slightly. With every following verse, however, it got clearer—more distinct, its own entity. His vocal sound separated from Kakyoin’s own worries, his fears, and thoughts of an uncertain future. When Jotaro’s deeper voice began resounding, layered with his own, harmonizing melody, reciting the words that they had all learned by heart, Kakyoin finally let go of the ties holding him down and burst into the chorus with spirited vigor.

He had no reason to be afraid in that moment, no need to get lost in thought, no reason to even think at all. All he had to do was let his voice take the lead and lose himself in the music, in their synergy, in their shared sound.

And he reveled in it, let himself be taken and encased by the flow of the waves around him. The different parts all came together as one, as a single unit, a structure that paradoxically flowed with the stream of time it meant to surpass, gripping each listener’s heart tightly. With every strum and key, with every beat, with every dry breath and every sound escaping his throat, Kakyoin felt more lighthearted. It was a joy he had forgotten how to feel;  one he had so often felt as a child when he stepped onto the musky, hushed stage of the concert hall for the first time, when he had heard his playing resonate and echo from the majestic walls and he could see the faces of the enthralled audience at the end.

His voice was clear now, lighter and brighter in tone than Jotaro’s backing vocals, tearing through the room like a ray of light in the dark.

This feeling, however juvenile or immature the association, made him feel alive, safe and energized all the same.

The spotlights surrounding them glared even brighter when they started moving along to the sound’s flow. More and more people joined the pit in front of the stage, started singing along and dancing, smiles gracing their faces—It almost felt unreal to see all of them enjoying their shared effort to this extent.

When he turned to look at Jotaro, still singing alongside him with a blissful glint in his eyes, he knew that, at least in that short moment, Jotaro felt the same euphoria that he did.

Transitioning into the next song, Kakyoin’s heart felt like it would spring out of his chest.

The rest of the evening rang out in the redhead’s ears the way a beautiful moment might be gone in a blur.

From the assortment of slower, more soulful and romantic songs they had arranged for the beginning, their sound flowed and shifted gradually. The beats got franic, the strums harder, the riffs more complicated, and with them the vocals stronger and more intense. Emotions came and went like the everpresent tides:the loneliness of longing to the pain of betrayal, the rise of rebellion and accusation flooding the unprepared room, obliterating and reinventing the atmosphere as they raced through the decade they were given.

An ebb and flow of energy, of atmosphere and music... that was what they had managed to create.

Even if their throats burned during the final chorus, even if their hands and feet stung, even if exhaustion began to sneak its way into their bones while the last melancholic notes rung out into the used air, the truth was that before this moment slipped away, life had never felt as complete as it did now.

“We’re the guys from Star Platinum! Muhammad Avdol on Bass, Jean Pierre Polnareff on Drums, Jotaro Kujo on Guitar and backing vocals, Kakyoin Noriaki on vocals and synth—” Kakyoin called out over the deafening applause, breathless. ”We hope you enjoyed our music! Goodnight Air Supplena! Have fun wherever you’re going!”

And as they stood there, chests heaving, drenched in sweat with big smiles on their lips, the bright spotlights burning their faces and applause and cheers roaring as the lack of their own sound left a ringing in their ears, it seemed they’d discovered their own little slice of paradise.

It was really over . Kakyoin thought as he stepped back. Done.

He breathed in deeply as the members of the band simply stood next to one-another and took in the fruits of their labour, hand clutching the microphone. Whatever this... feeling he was experiencing was, it was exhilarating and scary and everything in-between.

The redhead could feel cold tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. He didn’t really know what kind of tears they were. In fact, he didn’t even know how he should feel, or even if there was a way he should really be feeling at all. So he simply felt it all, letting it rush through him in its confusing, messy, wonderful entirety as his hands began to shake softly.

He truly loved performing, loved the stage, loved singing and playing for others with the band, but —

His train of thought broke when he registered Jotaro squeezing his hand. Instead of replying, he closed his eyes and interlaced their fingers, squeezing back, relishing the other’s warmth one last time as the break between sets began.

— if this was how it was going to end, he did not really mind.

From his peripheral vision, he could see a stage manager giving them the sign to hurry backstage again, along with their follow-up from earlier waiting antsily just behind the beamer screen. Polnareff gave them a thumbs-up before grabbing his drumsticks and abandoning the post he had taken for the past hour and a half. Avdol followed behind him, momentarily giving a last look at Kakyoin and Jotaro before rushing inside.

Kakyoin expected to follow them.

He did not.

He most likely realised that it would not be the case when, instead of letting go of his hand once they had set down their instruments behind the stage, Jotaro took a sharp right away from the stairs leading down into the room they’d occupied before. Jotaro didn’t seem to care, dragging a very confused Kakyoin through the narrow hallway and towards the glowing emergency exit sign.

Kakyoin could barely suppress a gasp. “Jotaro, what are you —”

The other didn’t respond verbally, quickening his pace instead.

Jotaro’s hands—no, all of what Kakyoin could see of him—was tense. When given the chance, Kakyoin didn’t let go, but nearly stumbled before catching himself in surprise at the sudden movement. 

Reacting instinctively, the other had turned his face away so quickly his cap had nearly fallen off. His ears, exposed by the askew hat, seemed to glow red in the dim warm light of the lamps above. The wooden flooring under their rushing feet creaked in sync with his thundering heart.

With every step further into the unknown, Kakyoin could feel his blood rushing in his ears louder and louder, could feel his heart clenching in his chest tighter and tighter. Perhaps it was still the adrenaline of the performance spreading in his system, or maybe he was just scared and confused , Kakyoin reasoned with himself.

Yes, that must be it.

He did not at all feel his heart sink down to his knees or the warmth rise into his cheeks when he realised that he had essentially been holding hands with Jotaro for god knows how long. Neither did he ponder what exactly this whole thing was leading up to.

He could feel shivers running down his spine.

Really, who was he trying to kid here?

Even in those short few moments when the door flew open and the gusts of cold, midnight air hit his face like frigid buckets of water, Kakyoin’s mind was racing. If he were any more attentive, he would have noticed the soft flicker of the streetlights, the subdued noise from the inside of the club, the almost transparent clouds of breath forming in front of him—but his gaze was fixed on Jotaro’s back in front of him. 

When the door fell closed behind them, when Jotaro turned around to look at Kakyoin with an unreadable expression, both of them failed to let go of the other’s hand.

And so they stood there, unmoving.

A gentle breeze wafted over engine noises from the street not too far away. Kakyoin could hear himself breathe, discern the sounds the fabric of Jotaro’s jacket made when he moved his arms.

The sudden quiet, at least in comparison to the thunderous reverb in the club, was equal parts unnerving and calming when combined with the anticipation that plagued his thoughts.

Jotaro’s hands were still as rough and calloused as they had been the last time Kakyoin had gotten the chance to hold them, he noticed. He still smelled like driftwood and saltwater; he still wore that stupid hat tugged way too deep into his face.

Maybe Jotaro would be better off if he just let him go.

But was that what he really wanted? 

There was no point in denying himself the feelings he had grown so aware of over the weeks. Jotaro still made Kakyoin’s heart flutter in dangerous ways, made him laugh and smile, fascinated him with his music and mannerisms—because that was the idiot he had fallen in love with over the course of the months they had spent with each other. Because it was Jotaro .

Was this what Jotaro wanted?

He felt his hand itching to grip his wrist, splint or no splint.

Was it what he could ever dream of deserving after what he did?

“Jotaro, listen, I—” Kakyoin started, tentatively lifting his gaze.

“Noriaki—” Jotaro quietly interjected at the same time.

And thus they fell back into their silence, pleading gazes locked with each other.

What Kakyoin wanted   was to look into Jotaro’s eyes with determination , to say all the things he had locked in his head ever since the kiss, even before then. He wanted to stay by his side, wanted to apologize, to be friends again—He did not want this to be over. He did not want to give him up. As much as Kakyoin told himself that it would be for the best, he did not want to just let him go.

And yet his gaze was still filled with the uncertainty and guilt he had tried so hard to come to terms with.

Jotaro was the first to move again when he slowly turned his head to the side.

“Sorry for just dragging you out like that and all. I… would say something, but I honestly don’t know what to say.” He let out a breathy laugh, looking down at their hands. “I didn’t really plan this, I didn’t think I’d have the courage to get this far.”

Kakyoin wanted to speak, to say something, anything —and still, when he opened his mouth, the deafening silence persisted.

The resolve that had gathered in Jotaro’s eyes began to fade.

His face fell.

Kakyoin’s heart clenched when Jotaro averted his eyes.

“I—”

A sudden, stinging, lonely cold enveloped Kakyoin’s fingertips as Jotaro’s hand pulled away.

“—nevermind, this was a stupid idea anyways. I’ll just—”

His voice wavered from his typical stoic tone, breaking as if he were fighting with himself. While Kakyoin stood there, stuck in an endless loop of indecision, the taller teen took a step backwards, then another.

No! Kakyoin wanted to scream. He wanted to yell and reach out to him. No, don’t go! But still his voice failed him and all Jotaro saw was the anguish in his features.

The cold feeling crept from his hands up to his arms and then his chest, finally snaking up to his throat. Like before the performance, he felt like he was silencing himself. Like he’d found a cell, locked the door from the inside and thrown away the key.

What had it all been for?

Kakyoin’s arm began to move on its own.

This might be your last shot.

His fingers stretched out until—

The last opportunity to make things right, and if not right, then at least make them normal again.

—they clasped gently around Jotaro’s wrist.

“I’m sorry,” Kakyoin quietly breathed.

His grip wasn’t tight, or secure. It amounted to a child tugging at its mother’s sleeve more than anything—tentative, afraid. But even so, he kept holding on, kept his head down, kept breathing. He didn’t dare to meet Jotaro’s gaze again, not yet.

“I’m so sorry, Jotaro,” he simply repeated.

“Nori, I—”

“I’m sorry I broke your trust,” he continued, louder this time. “I’m sorry for everything I did when you came over. I… I obviously misinterpreted the signs you were giving me and I acted completely out of line. I was being a horrible, terrible friend, and I absolutely understand if you don’t want to have anything to do with me from now on.” 

Words he had kept locked inside out of fear suddenly exploded out of him in a quiet desperation.

“I would have approached you about it sooner, but I also wanted to give you space in case you needed it—even if I knew that if you were avoiding me you were completely justified in doing so. Honestly, I can’t blame you for it.”

As he spoke, Kakyoin ran one of his hands through his hair.

“It’s just… the days before the performance I—even now —the entire time I was wondering and thinking about how to say any of this to you… if you even wanted to hear it—” He let out a pained breath. “I’m still not sure.”

Sighing, Kakyoin gave Jotaro’s hand a last, melancholic squeeze.

“The point is, no matter what I did… You’re you . You’re... amazing .” He paused. “You’ve helped me through lows I didn’t think I could reach, you made me able to feel human again when I felt more like a failure than anything… and as fun as being in a band with all of the others was, as much happiness as it gave me… in the end, I always came back for you, for your stupid fish facts and gruff attitude, for our snarky exchanges and your honesty. And I missed you, as fucking selfish as that sounds.

I know I don’t deserve your pity, or your forgiveness, and I won’t ask for it. I don’t know if or how we can still be friends…or if you even want us to stay connected at all ...but before I have to say goodbye you deserve an apology for what I did to you, at the very least.”

A soft, sad smile formed on his lips when he felt his fingers finally lose their grasp on the familiar fabric of Jotaro’s jacket. The void in his chest ached.

“So here you go.” Kakyoin raised his head to meet Jotaro’s gaze. “I’m sorry.”

In his eyes, however, he did not find the disdain or indifference he was expecting.

Instead he found shock, then realisation, and lastly a mix of understanding and regret clinging to Jotaro’s dimly lit features. Gently the other’s warmer hands came to rest on Kakyoin’s cheeks.

“Nori… I don’t hate you for what happened. The fact that we’re in this situation at all is not just your fault.”

At the sight of Kakyoin’s surprised expression, Jotaro’s own softened.

“If I hadn’t run away…if I just faced you there and then, you would never have had to accuse yourself like this— god , by being a stupid idiot, I apparently brought on the very thing I wanted to avoid in the first place.”

He averted his gaze to the side with a cynical chuckle.

“Truth is… I was scared. I am still scared, but not by you or what you did, so don’t worry about that.”

Kakyoin paused. “What do you mean?”

“Look, okay—I...” Jotaro sighed, clearly troubled with finding the right words to express himself as he stood there, holding Kakyoin’s face in his hands.

“This is harder to say than I thought.”

The image brought a soft smile to the redhead’s lips.

“Take your time, big guy.”

Jotaro chuckled, turning his reddening face towards the other a bit too quickly. “Oh, shut up .”

“What I’m trying to say, is that I… didn’t mind being kissed by you—I actually… really liked it?” With every word Jotaro’s voice grew a smidgen quieter.

Oh.

Kakyoin blinked and felt his cheeks grow warmer.

That was unexpected.

Very unexpected, actually.

He could feel his heart beating out of his chest.

So he had not misread his signs?

“But then why did you—?” Kakyoin muttered, still struggling to comprehend this new information.

“Because I panicked,” Jotaro deadpanned with a tremble in his tone. “Because all the relationships I’ve ever witnessed in my youth were incredibly fucked up. Because my mom suffered from my neglectful, absentee ass of a father for so long, because I still see her suffering from it every day , even if she has started healing. Because whenever I look at myself in the mirror I see my father’s hair and face and I feel awful. Because I am not done healing and…”

His gaze softened as he wiped a thumb across Kakyoin’s cheekbones and took a deep breath.

“Because you’re you, too. Because you’re smart and funny and a bit of a sarcastic asshole and I love that about you. Because I adore your voice and I had literal chills running down my spine when we sang together just now. Because you’re just as much of a music nerd as I am. Because you’ve gone through so much and yet you were there , trying to help me when I needed you to and—”

He stopped himself, looking into Kakyoin’s eyes with an apologetic gaze Kakyoin hadn’t seen from him so close before.

“I ran because you deserve someone who isn’t afraid of being with you because he feels like he could end up hurting you. But now I’m here and...”

Tentatively, Jotaro reached for Kakyoin’s hands, asking for permission with a questioning glance. With a smile, Kakyoin let him.

“I don’t know if you want me to stay or go, if it would be easy with your pianism and university, if you even feel that way for me anymore, but I think…that I’m in love with you—and I want to try to be better for you, if you just give me the chance.”

For the first time that night, everything else was forgotten.

There were no flickering street lights just off the road abandoned in wake of time, no barely visible moon in the sky throwing milky beams of fading light down on them like a broken stage light. There were no echoes from the inside of the club, not a sound from the deserted streets or the apartment complexes far above. 

Instead, there was only the familiar smell of driftwood and the distant sea, the burning heat of Jotaro’s hands and the rush of adrenaline that kept Kakyoin’s heart racing endlessly. He could feel the slight tremble in his arms, and even in the dim light see his tousled hair and thick eyelashes, the turquoise gleam in Jotaro’s nervous gaze that waited anxiously for an answer. 

Before his mind could betray him with anxious thoughts or unfounded doubts, Kakyoin wrapped his arms wordlessly around the other and relished in his warmth. The steady, everpresent beat in his chest got faster and faster, and in their proximity he could almost hear the other’s heart matching his rhythm. Or maybe his heart was merely strings to be plucked by Jotaro’s fingers as they slowly moved through Kakyoin’s hair, eliciting a sensation he could only equate to the masterful tension built up by a rising symphony.

Every miniscule movement, every breath, and every glance felt like an eternity too long now that he had certainty, now that he knew his feelings could lead to something, now that the eerie sensation of a void in his chest had given way to the warmth and comfort of home that he had given up on regaining.

Amethyst eyes met turquoise, and again, though substituted by a silent nod, fateful words were left unspoken.

What they didn’t dare to say was sung like a ballad, a melody giving way to a majestic overture, or a chorus reaching its peak when Jotaro closed the remaining distance between them. 

When Jotaro kissed him, the sensation left Kakyoin sinking into his touch.

His lips were shaking, as if he were afraid Kakyoin would pull away again, that he would disappear and be lost, so he pressed his softer lips to his with a renewed resolve.

I’m here, The action whispered. And I will be here whenever you need me.

And during the kiss, he felt it all—Every facet of Jotaro’s being, every yearning note sang by his soul, every tone doomed to silence in any other causality, every breath he took and every breath he would take, every tear, every smile— all of it colliding in a crescendo of emotions felt and to be felt in the future they hoped to share.

Home is what he had called it when he first felt it. Love is what he called it now.

When they finally parted, when the time that had stopped around them continued its flow, neither of them dared to let go.

Inside, sound vibrated through the musky basement air like waves in a warm ocean. Dim light from lamps too old to replace shimmered through the dust as drinks were bought and seats were taken. Soles on concrete floors mimicked the beat of the drums onstage. But outside, it was their hearts that set the beat, and their gazes meeting that lit up the darkest night around them.

“It won’t be easy,”Kakyoin murmured into Jotaro’s shoulder, teary-eyed and arms still wrapped securely around the other’s torso.

“We’ve both been through a lot… and we still have so much of our lives ahead of us — but despite the uncertainty, despite everything... if it’s with you, I feel like it’s worth a try.”

Jotaro nodded, gently stroking calming circles on Kakyoin’s back.

“You know…you never answered my question, Nori.”

“Hm?”

“Should I stay or should I go?”

Kakyoin let out a short laugh as he loosened his grasp to look the taller teen in his eyes. A few tears ran down his cheeks.

“God, you dork .”

With a soft smile, Kakyoin rested his forehead against Jotaro’s.

“ Please, stay.”