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His head feels heavy in Jotaro's hands. Kakyoin's mind is struggling to work and comprehend much of anything; it would prefer, it seems, if he would lay down and die already.
Kakyoin cannot find it within himself to disagree. It would be easier to do that, to make his body heavy and limp and to close his eyes and welcome whatever is beyond. But Kakyoin is terrified. Whether the proud way he proclaimed that he wasn't afraid to die was a lie, or this feeling is a primal response to toeing the line between life and death, Kakyoin's heart is pounding in his ears and his head hurts and he feels so, so shaky; he can only assume that he is scared.
Perhaps most frightening is the look upon Jotaro's face. The lights overhead are blinding and pale, but Jotaro's dark clothes and hair don't help the clearness of his image. Through his darkening vision, Kakyoin can just make out the concern on his face. He's conscious enough to realize that if Jotaro is displaying such an emotion this openly, something terrible is happening.
Oh, God.
Something terrible is happening to him.
What is wrong?
What is wrong with him?
The blinding pain in his middle is failing to numb itself with endorphins. He feels cold and warm at once, and begins to panic when he realizes that he cannot move his legs. He can feel their weight, but it's as if they are the limbs of a limp doll, not connected to him in any useful way. It rips his racing heart a new one. His arms are weak, and he just manages to throw them over Jotaro's. His fingers will not move dexterously enough to grab his coat sleeves, and he doesn't have the strength to hold onto him.
Across the river of his blood rushing in his ears, Kakyoin makes out words. There has been loud sounds for minutes now, but he never thought that they might be words.
"Do something!" Jotaro is yelling. His fingers are tangled in Kakyoin hair, specks of blood visible from where his shirt sleeve is torn. His face is scrunched in pain, dark eyebrows knitted over dark eyes. A more lucid Kakyoin would notice the dark bruises peeking at him from under Jotaro's sleeve.
If only from curiosity, Kakyoin fights the urge to close his eyes to better hear what's going on.
A voice not as deep as Jotaro's answers, "We can't hurt him, sir. He's likely already in shock."
Kakyoin tries to croak out a response, but can't. Instead, he almost chokes on a mess of bile and blood, coughing up a wad of red that lands on Jotaro's sleeve. Jotaro's eyes widen at it, but he doesn't look angry; Kakyoin tries to apologize anyways, while Jotaro shakes his head frantically and says, "No. No, it's fine, baby, don't worry 'bout it."
His tone is so gentle, Kakyoin is now uncertain if this is reality. Maybe he's already dead, and this is a cruel replication of his final moments. Maybe he's in Hell, and this is his eternal torture; getting what he wants and then dying, over and over until he is numb to the sweetness of Jotaro's words and the way he meekly thumbs the blood and spit from Kakyoin's chin. At the very least, these few moments bring Kakyoin some sort of comfort.
In a second, Jotaro's tone and expression changes as he looks up at someone else and barks an order that Kakyoin can't make sense of. Kakyoin can only tell someone else is with them from the white gloved hands that hover in his vision before dipping to his midsection. His eyes must widen, and he strains desperately to look, but Jotaro moves a hand under his head and the other under his chin and forces him to look up.
"You don't wanna see it," Jotaro says, his voice serious and lacking the sweetness it had moments ago.
All Kakyoin can think of is how poor that choice of words was. He does want to see it, he needs to see it, what even is it? What is happening? His mind has blocked any information from before now, his memory blank when he tries to remember how he got here.
Kakyoin is not even sure what "here" means; behind Jotaro's head, he can make out a swirl of colors and lights that are murder upon his vision, but it is much easier to stare into his boyfriend's face. When he looks to the side, his eyes ache and feel as though they will burst from the pressure. All he can comprehend, all he can understand, is that "pain" does not begin to describe whatever has happened to his body. It is indescribable, it is unbearable, and his hands are hard with dried blood.
He feels Jotaro shift and, finally, move away from his side. It's now that Kakyoin believes that he begins to truly panic. The rush of adrenaline banishes any sense of fatigue lingering in his mind. He can't be alone, not now. Jotaro can't leave him now, Jotaro can't leave him to die. His arm is moved by someone, but ever obedient — and, in some crazed sense of the word, reasoning that if he does as Jotaro told him, then Jotaro will come back — Kakyoin does not move his head from where Jotaro placed it before. Something pricks the inside of his elbow and wedges itself into his vein, and once a few seconds pass Kakyoin decides that the prior sensation was actually quite pleasant in comparison to this.
At least then, he couldn't feel most of his lower body. Now he feels it all. He can feel each and every vein in his body aching and throbbing with pain, as if his body is rejecting itself; as if the very molecules he's made of are alive and warring with him. He does not even process how he tries to make noise, tries to relieve some of the misery that he couldn't with his midsection in shreds. His mind is hazed with anxious worry and still hoping for Jotaro to return. There is no earthly reason for it, and it is quite a ridiculous thing to think that his body is tearing itself apart — but if Kakyoin could think, he would've heard it when Jotaro told him, "I'm goin' to the other side."
He feels Jotaro's hands on his free arm just as soon as everything else happens, too. His wrists are suddenly pressed against cool metal, and his legs regain their feeling within seconds. Kakyoin is vaguely aware of the agonized yell he lets loose; most shocking to him is that now, he can speak and it doesn't hurt. He gasps for breath, finding it easier and more filling than before.
It still shoots pain down his torso and spine to breathe so deeply. The ache ebbs away slowly, but surely.
In its wake is sheer terror. Kakyoin has never felt so confused and dazed in his life. He moves to grip Jotaro's arms and finds that his wrists will not lift. He stutters hurried questions at Jotaro, who thankfully is in his sight again, but his speech is slurred and unintelligible. He fails to piece together words that make logical sense. All he can do is lean his head back and groan, as Jotaro lowers himself down to have his head level with Kakyoin's.
Someone says, "Mr. Kujo, that's not a good idea."
Kakyoin is glad to hear the contempt in Jotaro's voice as he replies, "Piss off." His tone switches as he looks to Kakyoin, giving him a sympathetic frown. "You're gon' be okay. Just stay awake for me, Nori."
Kakyoin gives a slow nod, feeling as though his brain will roll around in his skull if he moves too harshly. It's tempting to not stay awake, to close his eyes and let his body rest, but if Jotaro needs him awake, he'll stay awake.
Jotaro's hand rests on his shoulder, but as Kakyoin's body calms down from the aftershocks of pain and the overwhelming regaining of his senses, he discovers another odd thing. He can hear something, not only in his own body but from Jotaro's too; a rushing, pulsing sound.
A steady beat.
It sets off a strange sensation in his stomach, as if he hasn't eaten a bite of food in his entire life. As if on cue, he feels hands gently prod his abdomen and then Joseph's voice asking, "Does that hurt?"
Kakyoin swallows, attempting to fix how dry his mouth has run. "No," he manages.
Jotaro's hand slides down his arm and to his hand, wrapping around his fingers and squeezing in a characteristic, awkward way of offering comfort. Kakyoin looks to him with raised eyebrows, but cannot reply before Joseph's hands press on his torso and a warm feeling spreads throughout his body. Quickly following it is an intense pain and a new round of stimulants that overcrowd his senses and come back out of him in the form of a cry.
In the seconds that follow, his vision snaps into black.
Kakyoin opens his eyes to a crowded hospital room. His mind is lethargic and his memory fuzzy. The lack of his school uniform is the first thing he notices, the air on his shins and knees jarring him further awake. His mind does not fully comprehend what is happening until the doctors and nurses trickle out of the room, and in comes familiar faces.
His legs feel heavy when he tries to move them, and so he abandons any hope of it.
As Jotaro and Joseph approach the side of the hospital bed, Kakyoin notes how banged up Jotaro is. His arm is in a sling and he walks stiffly, his mouth drawn into a tight frown that Kakyoin recognizes as his most pained expression.
"What's happening?" Kakyoin's voice tastes stale, as if he hasn't used it in years.
Jotaro glances at Joseph, opting to silently take hold of Kakyoin's hand. Joseph takes off his hat and holds it to his chest, a gesture that Kakyoin would laugh at if he weren't so concerned.
"What do you remember, kid?" Joseph asks, sitting down in the visitor's chair. Jotaro gives him an annoyed look.
"We were in Egypt," Kakyoin says, after struggling to piece together a picture of what had happened. "And we were looking for Dio's mansion."
Joseph knits his brows together. "Well, you got real beat up 'n' we had to do some things to get you here," he says. "But everything is alright now."
"Mr. Joestar...?" Kakyoin trails off, raising his eyebrows.
"Don't worry about it," Joseph insists. "Your memory'll come around once they quit druggin' you up."
Kakyoin smiles a little. He isn't sure what is in his IV, but it certainly does have an overall numbing effect. He cannot say that he minds it, especially if he's so hurt.
Jotaro takes his attention by patting his wrist. "You feel okay?"
It's perhaps the most heartfelt his voice has ever sounded. Kakyoin gives him a subtle nod, which he returns. Joseph, feeling left out on their silent communication, loudly intervenes by telling Kakyoin a version of events that he would learn, in due time, were nothing but a lie to keep the trauma from tossing him deeper into shock.
Blissfully unaware in the moment, Kakyoin listens to Joseph's gravelly voice recount their adventures without him, glad to be alive to hear his cheesy jokes and Jotaro's annoyed pleas for him to stop talking.