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“Shit.”
The circumstances, Kakyoin allowed, were less than ideal.
“Shit,” Jotaro reiterated, a bit more emphatically this time. He looked over at Kakyoin, who had observed this latest turn of events with a bemused sort of detachment. “The fuck do we do now?”
Kakyoin shrugged, at a loss for once, and Jotaro scowled.
“Real fucking helpful,” he muttered, yanking on his hat.
Kakyoin didn’t take it personally. It’d been a long, terrible day in a long, terrible week, and he knew Jotaro was just frustrated. So was he.
Midterms had been brutal, soul-crushing; the weather had been dreadful to match. Kakyoin had ripped a hole in his favorite sweater during an ill-fated dash through the quad to get out of a sudden downpour, and the corner store had stopped carrying Jotaro’s favorite brand of cigarettes. Nor had either of them remembered to go grocery shopping last week, so the contents of their apartment’s pantry had been whittled down to a box of rice, three crappy granola bars, and two packages of microwave popcorn.
The both of them were running on fumes, praying they made it to the weekend in one piece.
An enemy Stand user popping up in the middle of their chemistry class, then, was just the cherry on top of the colossal shit sundae that had been this past week.
Still, it wasn’t anything they couldn’t handle. It had been a few years since Egypt, and Dio’s loyal followers were few and far between. Those that remained seemed to be among the weakest of the bunch, and he and Jotaro were more than a match for them.
But this…
“He stole my fucking bike.”
This just took the damn cake.
Kakyoin nodded. “He did.”
Insult added to injury.
“He stole my fucking-”
“I heard you the first time.”
Jotaro snapped his mouth shut, teeth grinding as his jaw clenched. He looked about ready to punch something, or someone. But they didn’t have time to stand around; with Jotaro’s bike in his possession, the Stand user was probably halfway across campus by now, and getting farther and farther away with each second they stood here dawdling. Kakyoin could only use Hierophant for surveillance for so long before the enemy was out of range - they needed to get a move on.
Seeing the course of action they needed to take, Kakyoin set to it, leaning over and swiftly undoing the lock on his own bike so he could wheel it out onto the sidewalk. He hopped on with practiced ease, planting his feet wide for balance as he settled himself onto the seat, and then looked over at Jotaro expectantly.
Jotaro was watching him, eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”
“Going after the Stand user, of course,” Kakyoin replied.
“Without me?”
“Don’t be silly.” Kakyoin reached forward, patting the luggage rack where he usually put his backpack. “Hop on.”
Jotaro blinked.
When he made no move to get on the bike, Kakyoin sighed. “Jotaro, we really don’t have time for this-”
“Are you serious?”
Kakyoin raised an eyebrow.
“No fucking way I’m fitting on that.”
Kakyoin eyed the rack’s tiny metal frame, wondering if maybe Jotaro was right. He was a little bigger than a bookbag, after all. But neither of them had a car, and all of the other bikes were chained up tight, and if he didn’t give Jotaro a ride, then he’d have to stop and wait for the bus, and who knew how long that would take?
“You’ll fit,” he said finally. “Just don’t move around a lot.”
“I - no.”
“Jotaro.”
“I’m too big.”
Kakyoin bristled at the suggestion. “I can handle it,” he asserted.
Jotaro frowned. “That’s not - I mean…” He exhaled sharply, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You won’t be able to see around me.”
His ire faded as quickly as it had come on, pride soothed as he understood Jotaro’s true meaning. “I’ll do my best,” he replied. “And you can tell me if something’s in my way.”
“Can you react that fast?”
“Sure.”
“...really.”
“You’ve seen me play video games.”
“That’s - that’s different.”
“Only in scale.”
Jotaro groaned. “Kakyoin-”
“Jojo,” Kakyoin snapped, his patience nearing its end as his awareness of Hierophant slowly started to fade. “Stop dicking around and get on the damn bike.”
For a moment, Kakyoin thought he had won; Jotaro had taken a cautious step forward, and was eyeing the luggage rack dubiously, as if figuring out how best to position himself on the seat. But he was nothing if not stubborn, and after a few more precious seconds of thought, he took a step backwards, away from the bike, motioning for Kakyoin to move instead.
“Switch me spots,” he said, grabbing for the bike’s handlebars.
Irritated, Kakyoin jerked them out of his grasp. “That won’t work.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s my bike.”
“So?” Jotaro demanded, a muscle twitching at the corner of his eye.
“So it’s designed for someone my height, Jotaro. Even if we raise the seat, your legs will be too long.”
“No, they won’t-”
“They will. Look.” Kakyoin scooted closer to him, letting the handlebars rest against the side of his friend’s leg for emphasis. “You’re just too tall.”
Jotaro eyed the bike, eyes narrowing even further, and let out a stream of curses that made even Kakyoin’s considerably desensitized ears burn. He kicked out with a foot, sending a pebble flying into the road and watching as it was crushed by an oncoming car. The look on his face could have rivaled a three year old’s for sheer petulance.
But eventually he seemed to run out of steam, huffing out a frustrated breath through his nose, and Kakyoin smirked. “Are you finished?”
“I guess,” Jotaro said, sullen, plopping himself down on the front of the bike as Kakyoin held it steady. It was a little concerning, how the front tire squashed against the concrete with the added load, but it didn’t look in serious danger of popping, and when Kakyoin sat himself back onto the seat, leveling out the weight, it looked a little better.
“There,” he said, grinning up at Jotaro. “Was that so hard?”
The glare Jotaro sent him was half-hearted at best. “Shut up.”
“We need to get going. Can you - that’s it,” Kakyoin said, nodding as Jotaro pulled his legs up so they weren’t in the way of the front wheel.
He then sat back, centering his weight as best he could, and grabbed onto the bottom of the luggage rack with his hands to keep himself balanced. The position hunched his shoulders a bit, and combined with the scowl gracing his features, he looked a bit like one of those medieval gargoyles you’d find on old European churches. It was absolutely ridiculous.
It was also, Kakyoin thought, absolutely adorable.
“Okay,” he said, pushing off, the bike wobbling dangerously as he pulled his feet onto the pedals. “Hang on, then!”
That was easier said than done. Jotaro had to have weighed at least two hundred pounds, and while the bike was doing most of the work for him, Kakyoin still had to put in the effort to get the two of them up to speed. Physics, and all that. By the time they pulled out into the bike lane that led off campus, he was breathing hard, sweat beading at his temples and soaking into the shirt on his back, and he knew he was going to be sore tomorrow.
But that wasn’t the worst of it.
No, the physical work Kakyoin could endure - would endure, quite happily, if it meant taking down another of the cretins Dio had unleashed on the world.
But the sight of Jotaro’s broad, tanned shoulders stretched out in front of him, muscles straining against the t-shirt he’d chosen that morning? The distraction that was the tantalizing stretch of skin exposed by the way the fabric was bunching up around his waist? The temptation to pull at the bits of hair curling at the nape of his neck?
That was something else entirely.
“Right!”
Kakyoin jerked the handlebars in the proper direction, narrowly avoiding a bike coming the opposite direction.
“Sorry!” he gasped, a bit sheepish. “I didn’t see him!”
“Didn’t see him?" Jotaro demanded, incredulous. "He was in fucking neon pink spandex.”
Kakyoin felt his cheeks heat. “I was - distracted.”
“By what?”
He didn’t think it prudent to mention that Jotaro’s jeans were slipping down his hips, exposing the paler skin at the top of his ass, and that Kakyoin hadn’t been able to look away.
So he just cleared his throat and muttered something about the chipped paint on his handlebars, how he needed to touch it up to prevent the metal from rusting out.
He wasn’t sure Jotaro bought it.
But he didn’t push it, and they fell into an easy enough routine, Jotaro calling out whether he needed to go right or left to avoid the other people in the road. It was working quite well, actually - better than Kakyoin would’ve predicted. They made good time as they meandered through downtown, and Hierophant told him they were gaining ground as they transitioned into the suburbs.
But it wasn’t a perfect system.
Jotaro was looking out mainly for people and the occasional pothole, and while those were easy enough to avoid, smaller objects were-
“Shit,” Jotaro cursed, tensing up.
-noticeably more difficult to navigate.
Kakyoin winced as he felt the bike’s tire pass over the rock Jotaro had only just seen. He hoped it hadn’t done any significant damage.
Jotaro cursed again, raising a hand to yank at his cap, and Kakyoin slowed a bit, expectant.
“What’s wrong this time?” he asked, poking his head around Jotaro’s side to make sure nothing else was in their path.
“Your fucking driving,” Jotaro snapped, grunting as they hit a dip in the road.
“Oh, come on,” Kakyoin panted. “I’m not that bad.”
As if to prove him wrong, a child suddenly darted out into the middle of the bike path, intent on the ball that had slipped from his grasp. The kid stopped as soon as he saw the two of them speeding towards him, emitting a terrifying shriek as he clapped his hands over his odd yellow eyes, and Kakyoin cursed, swerving at the last second, the bike teetering dangerously on its wheels as he attempted to course correct.
“Fucking-” Jotaro called out Star Platinum, using his Stand to push them back into an upright position, glaring at Kakyoin over his shoulder once he’d gotten the bike back under control.
“I had it under control!” Kakyoin huffed.
And he had - somewhat.
They’d been at a sixty-five degree angle at most, and he’d have used Hierophant to slingshot them back the other direction before they were in any serious danger of wrecking. There hadn’t been any need for Jotaro to call out Star Platinum and literally pop them off the concrete, like a gymnast doing a back handspring.
“You almost hit that kid!”
Kakyoin scowled. “Well, he shouldn’t have been in the bike lane!”
“Are you kidding me?”
“It’s for bikes only!”
“Kakyoin, he was four.”
“So?”
“So he doesn’t fucking know any better.”
…perhaps.
The point stood.
Kakyoin maintained, though, that if the kid wasn’t old enough to know not to run into the path of moving vehicles, then he needed to have parents who were a bit more active in preserving his wellbeing. Why was he even playing so close to the road anyways? Wasn’t there a yard nearby? A playpen, perhaps, or some other small, roped-off space designated for small children more intent on keeping track of their toys than making sure their limbs remained attached to their bodies-
He ran over another jagged pebble, too aggravated to pay proper attention to the road, and Jotaro lurched precariously to one side of the luggage rack.
“Are you trying to hit every rock in the damn street?” he demanded.
“I wasn’t, actually,” Kakyoin retorted, Jotaro’s ire really starting to bother him.
“I almost fell off the bike.”
He snorted, turning them onto a side street at Hierophant’s direction. “As if Star Platinum would have let you fall.”
Jotaro shrugged. “He might’ve,” he admitted. “He’s not very happy with me right now.”
Kakyoin blinked, surprised at this admission. “Why not?”
“He thinks-”
“...yes?”
“...it’s a long story.”
Kakyoin huffed out a laugh. “Well, Jojo, I don’t know if you’ve noticed - but I’m a bit of a captive audience right now.”
“Fuck off.”
“Try me,” Kakyoin insisted, reluctantly coming to a stop as the traffic lights in front of them switched to red.
Jotaro considered, readjusting himself on the rack while they had time. “He just…” he said finally, ignoring the way Kakyoin had leaned forward to get a better look at his face. “He wants me to do something.”
Kakyoin wasn’t certain if he was being purposefully cagey, or if it was just a happy accident. But Jotaro was talking, for once, and not completely deflecting, and so he buried his tendency towards sarcasm down deep and elected a more neutral tone for his reply.
“...something.”
“Yeah. Something.”
“And you… don’t want to do this thing?”
Jotaro shrugged. “Dunno. I do, but then - I think about it, and I don’t.” He snorted then. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”
Kakyoin hummed, thoughtful. “No, I think it does.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes. You’re worried about what happens after you do this thing Star wants you to do. If it’ll go right or wrong.”
Jotaro nodded. “Yeah, I - yeah. That’s it.”
Kakyoin understood the feeling, because it was one he experienced all of the time.
He’d always been a cautious person; he’d think through anything and everything before he committed to a plan of attack, and if he wasn’t certain of the outcome, he might not engage at all. Weighing all of a scenario’s possible outcomes, assessing the risk and reward… It was what made him so very good at taking down these enemy Stand users - that cold, calculating, ruthless efficiency with which he attacked all of life’s problems.
But it wasn’t how Jotaro operated. That wasn’t how Jotaro worked.
Jotaro was blunt, headstrong, focused - and while he’d certainly calmed down a bit since they’d gotten back from Egypt, not quite as eager as he used to be for a fight, Kakyoin still fancied himself as the more even-tempered of the two of them.
That wasn’t to say Jotaro was brash; he wasn’t. He was clever, and thoughtful, and certainly capable of getting himself out of sticky situations. He could think on his feet like no one else Kakyoin had ever seen, and he had an almost uncanny instinct for picking the right course of action.
But Jotaro wasn’t hesitant like this. He wasn’t… wary.
“It’s just - it’s been such a shitty week. Midterms, and the weather, and - the old man keeps getting on my case, too, wanting me to come to New York.”
“Is that who keeps calling us and using all the international minutes?”
“Yeah. Jackass.”
“We need those minutes to talk to Pol and Avdol.”
“Tell him that.”
“Mmm.”
“It’s just - it’s a fucking lot.”
“It sounds like it.”
“Star getting on my case is the last fucking thing I need; I don’t know why he thinks now’s the right time to tell you-” Jotaro snapped his mouth shut, brows furrowing in frustration. “Shit.”
Huh.
That was interesting.
Kakyoin cocked his head to the side. “Tell me what?”
Jotaro refused to answer.
“Jotaro,” Kakyoin said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
But Jotaro shrugged him off, and the light chose that particular time to switch back to green, so Kakyoin just sighed and started to pedal, his calf muscles groaning in protest as he set off down the road.
Later, he told himself. When he had time to pry, when they weren’t chasing down a rogue Stand-using bicycle thief in suburban Tokyo.
He’d get an answer out of Jotaro yet.
It took them the better part of an hour to track down the enemy, and by the time they finally cornered the guy, Kakyoin's legs were like rocks. He almost fell off the bike, and had it not been for Jotaro’s quick hands at his side, steadying him, he might have had to fight the enemy on his knees. But they were a team, each of them picking up the slack when the other needed it, and Jotaro just gave him a quick nod before launching himself at the Stand user, Star Platinum’s fists poised for a punch even as Hierophant coiled around his legs, pulling him into range.
The fight was quick. The enemy was no match for him and Jotaro, and within about five minutes, he had been knocked unconscious.
Deciding what to do with him took a bit longer.
“We can’t just leave him here,” Kakyoin protested, watching as Jotaro tied the guy around a nearby tree with a bit of rope they’d found nearby. “What if he wakes up?”
“He won’t.”
“But what if he does?”
Jotaro shot Kakyoin a look. Then, to demonstrate his point, he pulled his hand back and slapped the guy across the face, hard. The Stand user didn’t so much as groan, completely out of it, and Jotaro quirked an eyebrow.
Kakyoin rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he huffed. “He’s out cold. But I’m still worried the Speedwagon Foundation won’t get here quickly enough.”
“We’ll find a payphone on the way back to campus,” Jotaro offered. “Call it in.”
“Back to campus?”
“Yeah.” Jotaro tested his knots, making sure they wouldn’t unravel so easily. Satisfied the bonds were tight enough, he took a step back and surveyed his handiwork. “For our books.”
Kakyoin squeezed his eyes shut, fighting the sudden urge to pull at his hair and scream.
God, the books.
He’d forgotten about the damn books.
As soon as the Stand user had made his presence known, they’d abandoned their chemistry class, ignoring the startled look on their professor’s face as they’d hurtled out the door. There hadn't been time to grab their things.
He’d been looking forward to going home - taking a shower, faceplanting onto the couch, maybe getting Jotaro to tell him what Star Platinum wanted him to know… but there was nothing for it. They’d have to go and retrieve their belongings. His calculus homework was in there, and the beginnings of the essay he’d been putting together for his philosophy class.
He just hoped no one had stolen them.
Jotaro made a thoughtful noise, and Kakyoin opened his eyes again, just in time to see the other reach out to take hold of the man’s grimy t-shirt.
“Now what are you doing?” Kakyoin asked.
“Just taking precautions.”
He ripped off a couple scraps of fabric, grabbing the Stand user by the jaw to stuff one in his mouth, and Kakyoin grimaced. “Is that really necessary?”
“Weren’t you just complaining he might wake up?” Jotaro asked, tying the other bit of cloth around the man’s eyes, effectively blindfolding him.
“Well, yes.”
“Then yeah. It’s necessary.”
Kakyoin snorted, conceding the point, and sank down to the grass, barely managing to seat himself before his knees gave out. Fuck, but he was tired. During the chase, and throughout the fight, the endorphins his body had been pumping into his system had been enough to keep him going. Now that things had drawn to a close though, he remembered how tired he’d been this morning, how he’d barely been able to keep his eyes open during the lecture.
And to think, they still had to go back to campus…
“You good?”
Jotaro had turned to look at him, something like concern in his voice.
Kakyoin nodded. “I’m fine.”
“...you don’t look fine.”
“I’m just tired.” He waved a hand. “My endurance isn’t what it used to be. You know that.”
Jotaro pursed his lips, taking a few steps toward him. “You sure? I can go back alone, call a taxi-”
“I said I’m fine, Jotaro,” Kakyoin snapped.
Jotaro’s expression was a little wounded, and for a moment, Kakyoin thought he was going to apologize. But then he looked away, muttering a quiet, “Whatever,” as he walked away to where the Stand user had abandoned his stolen bike, bending over to inspect it for damages.
All the heat left him at once, and Kakyoin could’ve kicked himself.
“Jotaro,” he murmured, pressing a hand to his face. “Stop.”
Jotaro paused, head cocked so that Kakyoin knew he was listening.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.”
Kakyoin pulled at a bit of grass, holding the strands in his hands for a minute before letting them fall back to the ground, mingling with the greenery still embedded in the dirt. A moment later, a breeze drifted by and tugged them away.
“But I am fine, alright? Like you said, it’s… it’s just been a long week.”
At some point, Jotaro had turned and looked at him - really looked at him. He kept looking as Kakyoin served up his meager explanation, nodding in acceptance.
“Yeah,” he said. “It has.”
Kakyoin patted the ground next to him. “C’mere.”
Jotaro complied, kicking out his legs so that he was stretched out beside Kakyoin. His sneaker knocked into Kakyoin’s shin, their shoulders bumping as he settled onto the grass; Kakyoin breathed in sharply at the contact, holding his breath until Jotaro moved away, resettled himself into a different position.
To his surprise, Jotaro did nothing of the sort.
The contact was comforting, and Kakyoin leaned into it before he could overthink it.
“How many does that make now?” he asked, jerking his head towards the Stand user. “Three? Four?”
“Three,” Jotaro confirmed. “There was that guy at the beach, freshman year-”
“Yeah, that guy with the wind Stand. I remember him.”
“-and that girl in Shibuya last summer.”
“She was awful.”
“Yeah.”
“In comparison, this guy was almost…”
Jotaro snorted. “Yeah.”
Kakyoin couldn’t help but laugh. “Is it weird that I’m a little disappointed?” he asked. Jotaro made a face, as if the very notion was absolutely ridiculous, and he laughed even harder. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad they’re so weak and we can take them out easily. It beats the alternative. But-”
“I get it.”
“Yeah?”
Jotaro’s eyes slid over to him, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. “Yeah.”
Kakyoin sighed. “It’s just not the same.”
“Mmm.”
In most ways, that was a good thing - Dio was dead, Miss Holly was alive and well, and all of the Crusaders had made it out of Cairo in one piece. They weren’t on the run for their lives, constantly watching their backs for Dio’s Stand users, never knowing if they were going to make it to see the next day.
Sometimes, Kakyoin found he missed it.
He missed being packed into a car with four other very large men as they traveled the perilous mountain backroads of India and Pakistan, breathtaking scenery passing them by, Jotaro’s shoulder pressed up against his in the backseat. He missed listening to Polnareff’s stories about his childhood in France, hearing Mr. Joestar regale them all with increasingly outlandish tales of his youth, watching Iggy attack Polnareff’s hair as if it had violently offended him.
He missed staring up at the stars in the desert sky, talking to Jotaro about everything and nothing, too frightened to sleep, too tired to stay awake.
Avdol had used to tell their fortunes sometimes, when the rest of them had all had a bit too much to drink - the sole sober member of their crew, he’d pull out his tarot cards and have them draw from his deck one at a time, appropriately oohing and aahing as he interpreted their fortunes. Kakyoin was never sure whether or not to put any stock into the predictions; Avdol was clever and intuitive, and what he said often came true. But was that because the cards had some real power? Or was that because Avdol was just really good at reading people?
The last time he’d read Kakyoin’s fortune had been the night before N’Doul’s attack had sent him to the hospital. He’d asked to do things a little bit differently, too.
“Hand me the card back after you draw it - I’m going to put it back in the deck and shuffle them before you draw again.”
“Why’s that?” Kakyoin had asked, curious.
“Call it a hunch.”
Bemused, he’d easily done as Avdol had asked.
But then he’d gone on to draw the same exact card three times in a a row, and something cold and hard had settled into the pit of his stomach.
“Thrice, the Lovers,” Avdol had mused, shooting Kakyoin an intriguing look. “It represents-”
“I know what it means,” Kakyoin had interjected, wincing.
It hadn’t been out of rudeness. But Jotaro had been just across the room, scarfing down a bit of breakfast, and while he wasn’t really a morning person, Kakyoin hadn’t wanted to take any chances on him overhearing Kakyoin’s fortune.
Avdol had shrugged him off. “You know, this doesn’t usually happen when I have a person pull the cards this way.”
“Well, sure. It’s statistically unlikely.”
Avdol had laughed at that. “It’s almost completely improbable!” He’d tapped the card then, drawing attention to the way the man and woman were wrapped around each other in the picture. “This represents a strong bond, Kakyoin, a deep romantic attachment with someone close to you. I don’t think one has to be a fortune teller to figure out who that is.”
Kakyoin had shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “What are you saying, Avdol?”
“This is bigger than you and I. This is - why, I suppose it’s something like fate. A sign, as clear to me as if I was reading it in a book.”
“I… Avdol, I can’t.”
“Can’t?” Avdol had asked, raising a brow. “Or won’t?”
“...both, I suppose.”
Avdol had sighed at that.
“There’s just too much to lose,” Kakyoin had insisted, stubborn.
“And what of all you stand to gain?”
“I…”
Avdol had stood then, clapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t wait too long, Kakyoin.”
“I’m sorry?”
Avdol’s eyes had flashed, something sad in his smile. “None of us are guaranteed the chance of tomorrow.”
It had proved oddly poetic. N’Doul had wounded Kakyoin the next day, and he’d spent the next couple of weeks recovering in a hospital room while the rest of the group had taken out Dio’s minions in Egypt. He’d rejoined them later, of course, for the final showdown - but if there hadn’t been time to talk to Jotaro before the fight in the desert, there really hadn’t been time before the fight with Dio, and Kakyoin’s feelings had remained his secret to keep.
He liked to think he had them well under control.
But sometimes, when they would reminisce about the trip to Egypt like this, or when one of them would wake up from a terrible nightmare, the other’s presence the only thing capable of calming them down…
Well, these times, he found control a little harder.
“Jotaro.”
“Mmm?”
“What does Star Platinum want you to tell me?”
For a long moment, Jotaro was silent.
Then he turned to Kakyoin, his expression surprisingly solemn as he exhaled a shaky breath through his nose.
Kakyoin tensed, about to tell him to forget about it, that he didn’t have to say anything after all - not if revealing this bit of information made him uncomfortable, if it was too much for him to share. There were things he wouldn’t have wanted to tell Jotaro, after all, and he could hardly fault his friend for having a few secrets.
But then Jotaro seemed to steel himself, determination flashing in his eyes, and he shifted forward, pressing his lips against Kakyoin’s in a soft, hesitant kiss.
Every thought in Kakyoin’s head fizzled and died. Every protest, every last bit of concern he’d thought to voice shriveled up. For once, his mind was completely blank, Jotaro’s lips the only thing he could focus on.
Soft - they were so very soft, and warm.
He tasted like the cigarette he’d smoked before class, mixed with something vaguely minty - a piece of gum, perhaps, or a bit of candy.
He barely suppressed a shudder, unable to so much as breathe, and he raised a hand off the ground, intent on pulling Jotaro in close, holding him there, maybe coming up to cup his cheek-
But Jotaro had already pulled away, pointedly looking the other direction, and Kakyoin blinked, confused.
“Jotaro.”
Bright eyes met his for the briefest of moments - then Jotaro was looking away again, lips pursing, muttering an apology as his shoulders tensed.
Kakyoin frowned. “You’re sorry?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?” Kakyoin swallowed, daring himself to be brave as he added, “I’m not.”
That got Jotaro’s attention.
“What?”
“I’m not sorry you kissed me,” Kakyoin repeated.
“Oh.”
“But I am… confused.” He paused, hoping Jotaro would look at him again. “Star Platinum wanted you to kiss me?”
“Not exactly.”
Star Platinum appeared then, unbidden, voicing a very unhappy, “Ora!” and Jotaro scowled.
“Fuck off,” he snapped.
The Stand did nothing of the sort, crossing his gigantic arms across his chest.
Kakyoin watched, strangely fascinated, as the two of them engaged in some sort of conversation. It was mostly curses on Jotaro’s part, accompanied by harsh stares or ragged, moody exhales; Star was much more animated, offering up a stream of excited and frustrated “Ora’s” in turn, staring at his user with a gaze stern enough to make even Kakyoin a bit bashful.
He wondered what they were saying, how Jotaro was able to understand.
But he supposed it wasn’t all that different from how he communicated with Hierophant; it wasn’t something he’d had to learn. Rather, it was something he’d always been able to do, some instinct as natural as breathing.
Star emitted one last, very grumpy, “Ora!” before finally phasing out of existence, shooting Jotaro a meaningful look and then gesturing at Kakyoin.
“That was… lively,” Kakyoin said tentatively.
Jotaro snorted. “He called me a fucking idiot.” He sighed then, looking up at the sky. “Guess I am, kinda.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’ve been wanting to do that for three fucking years, and it gets harder not to every fucking day, and it’s just-”
Something wrenched in Kakyoin’s chest, his stomach dropping down to his knees and then rocketing back up to catch in his throat along with his breath.
Was this… was this real? Was Jotaro being serious?
It didn’t seem possible. Kakyoin would’ve noticed something, he wouldn’t have missed this - but then again, he’d never really let himself look too deeply into their interactions, afraid of what he might see. Maybe he had missed something.
“Star thought I should tell you I liked you, because it’d be one less thing for me to worry about. He also said that…” He took a deep breath. “He also said that you liked me too, and to stop being a-”
“Yes?”
Jotaro scowled. “A little bitch.”
Kakyoin choked out a laugh, unable to keep the slightly hysterical edge from it. “Oh my god,” he wheezed, one hand clutching at his side. “Are you serious?”
Jotaro just raised an eyebrow at him.
“How very rude of him.”
Jotaro snorted. “You should hear what he says about everyone else.”
“Mmm.” Regaining a bit of his composure, Kakyoin found himself reaching out, fingers curling over Jotaro’s shoulder. “He’s right, though.”
“About what?”
“You are a little bitch.”
“Oh, for fuck’s-”
Kakyoin had been ready for this. He had already composed a plan of attack.
He brought his lips to Jotaro’s, drowning out the rest of what he’d planned to say, easing their mouths together as he pressed in close.
For a moment, Jotaro was frozen against him, and Kakyoin wondered if he’d misjudged the situation. But then Jotaro groaned, his hands coming up to clutch at Kakyoin’s arms as he deepened the kiss, and something close to exhilaration welled up inside of his chest, threatening to spill out with every push and pull of their mouths, every touch, every shared breath.
“He was also right about me,” Kakyoin admitted, pulling back for a moment to relish the flush of heat staining Jotaro’s cheeks. He grinned, swiping a thumb over Jotaro’s jaw. “I do like you.”
“Yeah?”
There was something like hope in Jotaro’s voice, something bright and shining and almost desperate-
Kakyoin kissed him again, soft and sweet. “Yeah.”
He physically felt the happy, rumbling sound Jotaro made in return, and Kakyoin thought he might happily die, then and there.
“You never said anything.”
“Neither did you,” he retorted.
Jotaro snorted. “Yeah, okay.”
“Star Platinum had to literally yell at you before you admitted it.”
“He didn’t yell-”
“I heard raised voices.”
Jotaro leaned forward, burying his face in Kakyoin’s neck. “Fuck you,” he breathed, grinning against his skin.
“If you want,” Kakyoin teased, enjoying the way Jotaro’s breath hitched, how his hands clenched against him. “Though we should probably go home first. This is a public park.”
“Kakyoin- ”
“My last name? Still? How formal of you.”
Jotaro pulled back, scowling. “You’re-”
“Amazing? Incredible? Wonderful?”
“-awful. ”
Kakyoin laughed, too happy to be even the slightest bit insulted. “You’re pretty great yourself, Kujo. Now let’s go home.”
Jotaro huffed, even as his frown morphed into something gentler.
“Yeah. That sounds good.”