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The moon is bright this night, shining through the window around old velvet curtains. It's the only light source in the room, illuminating small spots before the light bleeds into darkness. A chill courses through the room leisurely. It fills the air in a thick draft and, despite curling up in a tight ball shrouded in two layers of blankets, Kakyoin is shivering. His muscles flinch in small trembles, toes curl on their own accord, and teeth chatter. It doesn't make sense how Jotaro can sleep so easily, only a few feet away.
Slowly rousing from his chamber of fabric, Kakyoin rubs his eyes tiredly to clear his vision before glaring across the room at the snoring lump rolled in only a single blanket. The sight irritates him more, albeit briefly.
For a few long minutes, Kakyoin settles for watching his companion sleep, looking closely for the rise and fall of Jotaro's chest (although he can only see the outlines of his back). In spite of today being a relatively slow day for the group, Kakyoin had remained on edge. Every corner, every store, and every room: thoroughly inspected, subtly or not. His eyes scanned the faces of everyone they came across, darting behind his friends, to their sides, and above them. In public he is like a bee, buzzing about busily in search for any anomaly which may hint at a Stand. Even if it's small, there is always a chance.
He has despised sleeping since they left Japan, loathed the moment the sun began to hide behind mountains and trees, and the sky betrays the first rays of orange and red. Dusk is his enemy. In the rush of daytime Kakyoin can feel his spirit – his Stand – breathing cautious whispers and losing itself in the sound of others. It hides in their shadows like a predator watching its prey, laughing at their brashness, enjoying the livelihood of Mr. Joestar and Polnareff. In daytime, Kakyoin can live through them, contrasting whatever loneliness he feels with their spirit.
But it is in the silence of night that his heart begins to ache. Growing louder, he can hear the blood coursing through his veins as Hierophant Green hides within him. It is no longer lost but secure. Yet, in its peace its master is no longer whole.
Sleep; sleep is essential to maintain his sanity, to heal his wounds, to rest his body and prepare for the next fight. So why, why, is it always harder at night? Why, in the fleeting hours of rest when he needs to be sleeping, does his heart play a thunderous melody?
Sleep is futile tonight, he acknowledges, now sitting with his arms holding his knees close to his chest. He rests his chin on his knees; his gaze is locked on Jotaro's sleeping form. He feels a sudden warmth envelop him. It's a pleasant change to the cold constricting his exterior, and Kakyoin hums appreciatively, listening and watching as Jotaro's snoring abruptly stops and the teen flips onto his other side. Kakyoin can't make out the fine details of Jotaro's face because of the shadows cast from the lack of light, but there is a moonlit beam hitting Jotaro's shoulder that lights his nose and chin just a bit.
One day, when Dio has been defeated and Ms. Holly is alive and well, Kakyoin will treat Jotaro to a real vacation. It will have to be someplace beautiful, and neither in Africa or Southeast Asia; perhaps Europe, where they can visit Polnareff in France if he decides to go back home. It may take weeks of convincing, but he's sure that eventually Jotaro will give in and agree to go, putting on a faux of indifference all the while he was actually planning on saying yes from the start.
The thought brings a smile to Kakyoin's lips.
An anchor to his ship, Jotaro has been the stronghold that has kept Kakyoin balanced, maintaining an equilibrium of cold and warmth that leaves him inspired.
He wants to show Jotaro the world, make his friend experience all of the joy and hope that he has given Kakyoin. He wants Jotaro's heart to skip as they stare off into an unfamiliar place shrouded in light.
So here, in this darkened room in some three star hotel in the Middle East, Kakyoin is grateful for the rise and fall of Jotaro's chest; he's grateful that Jotaro can still sleep, can still dream of whatever his mind has to give because Kakyoin is too cold and too anxious. He tries not to think about it, attempting to push the heaviness manifesting in his heart as he watches his friend in vain.
Cold air swarms around him, eliciting another shiver as he grips the blanket around him tighter.
One day, when Dio has been defeated and Ms. Holly is alive and well, Kakyoin will finally be able to sleep.