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When time was held still, nothing else changed. It seemed like such a simple concept, for if time didn’t move, there was nothing to follow its lead. Neurons couldn’t send currents to cause thoughts, gravity could pull but there would be no movement to obey it, fear would hang in the air but no sound waves could carry the screams.
And a man like Jotaro could have a bullet in his shoulder, but no pain to feel.
A blessing, in concept. To steal the breath of time for a moment, silencing the agony tearing through him, insulating foam over the wildfire pouring out from the wound. His own thoughts ran sluggish, high with the flawless painkiller and adrenaline that stilled in his veins.
But he knew it couldn’t last forever. What a shame the limit on the intoxicating numbness began to run short, the sensation of everything thawing beginning to hang like a foul smog in Jotaro’s mind. And he realized it was wrong. He was meant to have control, meant to be immune, numb to the breaking of time but instead… instead he was just numb. He had lost all feeling, and lost control. And now, instead of time stilling around him, it melted and continued to flow without him.
And the numbness remained, the bullet in his shoulder staying buried in the dying flesh. He couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything. He could see everything ahead of him, Morioh’s colorful skies blurry as they drifted over him, harlequin clouds flowing over him and moving on.
Jotaro realized, slowly, that this was what he had wanted. He had wanted more than anything to be trapped where his decisions couldn’t hurt people, for he had no decisions to make. The world could move on without him, time carefully repairing the wounds he had ripped open during his too-short lifetime.
He knew the bullet in his shoulder was meant to be painful, but now, he didn’t even have to acknowledge if it was there. If anybody approached, it felt as if the most he would have to do was pretend it was a slight touch of blood on his coat, and they would walk on. Apologize for how much it might have been hurting him, and Jotaro could nod solemnly and let them leave.
When they should have taken him to a hospital.
But none of that applied when he was numb like this. He could forget the wound entirely, imagining the unbroken skin without aching with longing. For all he knew, the skin was unbroken. And he could lie, facing the heavens and letting the blood run down his arm. Slowly, slowly beginning to drain him and letting the last of his will to fight fade with it.
In the back of his mind, there was a swirling reminder of where he actually was, little more than wisps of smoke breathing what had really happened into his mind.
An attack behind the post office. Josuke had been there. Two men, one of them a stand user. Jotaro stopped time to take at least the stand user out. He had called his stand right before a gunshot, but then-
But then he was numb.
And now he was lying on the pavement, all of that feeling like it was years ago. It felt more like he was returning there decades later to lie down and stare up at the sky, imagining that perhaps the barren back parking lot was alive with the shouts of his friends and glimmers of powerful stands, from a safe distance.
Everything was from a safe distance now. For with feeling, danger and fear of it vanished as well. Darkness crept into the corners of his vision and he didn’t try to escape it. He knew if losing feeling was this blissful, to have his sight lifted from him and left him to lie in the peaceful darkness would only be more comforting.
It would be just like he was gone.
In fact, he willed it to come closer, submitting completely to it as it chased away more and more of the sky above him. It was nearly there, nearly consuming him, nearly, nearly, nearly...
And then somebody tore him out of it.
It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t the slow recession in reverse, it was harsh. It was so, so violent, all feeling suddenly roaring to life within him, and with that feeling, pain .
Jotaro gasped for breath, for he had been unable to realize when he wasn’t even breathing, as his half-lidded eyes flew open and still half-numb arms clawed at his throat to try to drag more air inside. The wound in his shoulder felt like it was being torn open by dozens of greedy, sharp-nailed hands desperate to dig into his flesh, pry open his ribcage, and fight each other to pull out the cold, cold bullet sitting inside of him.
He could suddenly feel the blood pouring out from the wound, viscous and warm as it dripped down through his coat, drenching it and making him feel somehow impossibly heavier. Everything about him suddenly had weight, glueing him to the ground and still tugging him down. He couldn’t do anything, but needed to move, to wipe the blood from his coat, to press his hands over the wound, to scream-
“Jotaro!”
A voice. He couldn’t think about it at the moment, mind too flooded with panic to allow anything else in. A tsunami raged through his skull, one of agony and fear and the realization that though he had been numb, the damage had only intensified. And he couldn’t be saved now, cursed with a few more minutes of being aware of his mistakes before his painful demise.
“Hey, whoa, calm down! I’m still here, I can fix it-”
No, you can’t- Outrage sparked to life within him, catching onto the gasoline of panic and before he knew it, Star Platinum was swinging a punch at whatever was in front of him.
Apparently he had been too slow. Something else easily caught the punch, a figure beside it weaving beneath it and collapsing to his knees beside Jotaro.
Don’t touch me. You’ll make it worse, you’ll make it worse .
“Stay still, stay still-”
Jotaro found himself breathing impossibly heavily, unable to fight any longer as his head sank back down with a dull thunk against the concrete. There was no reason to fight anymore but to entertain the insulting death he faced. And if he was going out to go out, he figured he would treat it the same way he did most things. Refusing to let himself care.
He didn’t care for the bullet, he didn’t care for the damage it left. He didn’t care how it was ripping him apart, nor did he for the people who said that they could help him. Because they couldn’t. It was something only he could fix, and he had long given up.
“C’mon, Jotaro, stay with me. You there now?”
But he could see now. His eyes were blurred with panicked tears, spilling over and warping his vision, but there was somebody there with him.
And he was numb again.
No.
Not numb anymore. He could feel the ground beneath him, cold and dusty, and a warm hand wrapping around his. He could feel where the bullet would had been, the remaining pain still throbbing faintly beneath his skin, but it wasn’t tearing him in half anymore. He knew it had been there, but wasn’t anymore.
And it may not have been as comforting as the complete numbness, but it was real. Josuke was right there, swallowing nervously as Jotaro looked up at him. The teen’s eyes were shimmering with worried tears, his stand hovering behind him.
Jotaro sat up, grunting and wiping his eyes. Reaching for his hat, which had fallen off as was lying on the asphalt beside him, he risked a glance over at Josuke.
The teen smiled. “Ay, you’re alive!” He held out his hand, helping Jotaro to his feet. “Scary shit, dude, do you know what happened?”
Jotaro adjusted his hat, still grappling with the absolute rollercoaster his emotions had just climbed off of. “No. I couldn’t see what was going on.”
“Sounds about right, you got hit by both the stand and the gun at the same time, and then I think you did something with time cause you teleported onto the ground like two feet back and then you were just kinda lying there with your eyes open but wayyy out of it, and when I knocked out the stand user dude you snapped out of it and freaked out a ton.”
Jotaro sighed. “Damn. I didn’t mean to get hit.”
“Seemed like you didn’t wanna get healed either, you almost punched me when I tried to-”
“I caught that part, don’t worry,” Jotaro huffed, beginning to walk away from the parking lot not that he felt like he could, and the teen followed.
Josuke glanced up at Jotaro, something Jotaro usually countered by glaring directly back at whoever was trying to figure out his deal, but let it slide this time. Josuke watched another few seconds, frowning. “Uh- Jotaro, you good? I don’t know, that fight seemed to- kind of fuck you up. I mean, like, not that it makes you bad at fighting or anything, I got totally screwed over when dealing with Kira. Just-just wanted to check.”
Jotaro looked back down to meet Josuke’s gaze, not for the sake of intimidating him, though. Some part of him found comfort in how truly concerned and genuine the emotion in Josuke’s eyes were.
To see a teen still with that much faith in him. Someone who knew that he had made mistakes, big mistakes, and still figured he was worth caring about. He took another deep breath, consoling himself.
“I think the stand was meant to just numb people,” he explained. “To anything. And I guess things hurt more when you were given the opportunity to pretend they weren’t there.”
“Oh, shit-” Josuke glanced over his shoulder back at the lot. “Should I have tied him up better? Brought him directly to the police station instead of just telling the post office people?”
Jotaro waved his hand dismissively. “No. You’ve done enough hard work, and they’ll understand that he’s dangerous.” He looked down at his hands, which were still shaking slightly. “...Thanks, by the way. Glad to be out of there.”
“Huh? Yeah, no problem!”
Jotaro let out a long breath. He knew he wouldn’t be able to forget that for a while, how terrifyingly blissful the attack had been or how alive the pain had been once the numbness died. He would probably fear that it would happen again. But at least he knew that even if there was a second time, he’d have somebody’s help to take.