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The world felt endless through the train window, long stretches of fluorescent streetlights and empty streets melted together in the late-night dark. There was nobody else on this car, probably nobody else on this train by now. Jotaro was already jet-lagged, barely functioning after the plane ride back to Tokyo, and he didn't know where he was or where the train needed to stop.
Noriaki did though.
Noriaki’s backpack bumped into Jotaro’s ankle, his thigh pressed firmly against Jotaro’s own as the train jostled and rumbled down the track. When Jotaro turned to look out the window, he saw Noriaki’s tired reflection overlaid on top of the lonely cityscape, the shitty yellow overhead lights glinting off of his tacky earrings.
The old man wasn’t exactly happy when Noriaki insisted on going back to his parents as soon as they landed just a little before midnight. He sighed and groaned and tried to win him over with the offer of a comfortable taxi and a spare room at Holly’s, but Noriaki had remained firm. With the three of them making a scene in the middle of the empty airport lobby, Joseph eventually had to throw in the towel and shell out the money for a train ticket. Two, once Jotaro planted himself next to Noriaki’s side and said he’d accompany him back.
It was strange. They were both back in Japan where they belonged, at the end of a trip they could finally put behind them for good, and Jotaro would stop his own heart if it meant he didn’t have to be alone again.
“You should have gone with Joseph,” Noriaki said. Jotaro saw him turn to look out the window too, catching his gaze through the reflection of the glass. “Do you even know how to get to your house from here?”
Jotaro grunted. “I’ll figure it out.”
Noriaki’s disapproval was palpable, his lips pursing together in a frown as he leaned over Jotaro’s shoulder to peer outside. “I don’t think this line goes to your neighborhood. There should be a station towards the end that has transfers for all the local lines though. I’m pretty sure there’s one that passes by your place there.”
“I got it,” Jotaro said. He clenched his jaw, a pang of tension running taut through him for some reason he couldn’t explain.
“It wasn’t the last one,” Noriaki said. He was talking to the air at this point, eyes fixed on a middle ground that Jotaro couldn’t meet. “The terminal is almost in the next town over. I got it mixed up a few times too. Oh, it was the second to last one. That should have a train you can take.”
“I said I got it,” Jotaro snapped.
Noriaki shuttered, and regret hit him as quickly as his temper had.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Didn’t mean it like that. M’just tired.”
Tired didn’t even begin to encompass the bone-deep exhaustion Jotaro had lugged back from Cairo, the gray fog that clouded his head and dulled out the aftermath of Dio up until he finally landed in the airport.
Noriaki seemed to feel the same way though, because the smile he tried to send him was little more than a lackluster twitch of his lips.
“I get it,” he said. “I’m sorry, I think the time difference is getting to me.”
Noriaki leaned forward, digging his elbows into his thighs as he droped his head with a long sigh.
"I should have stayed at your place," he admitted. "I can't even think straight anymore. I don't know how I'm going to explain this to my parents. But I just want to get it over with."
"You can still come with me," Jotaro said. "The old man's probably not gonna sleep tonight. He'll get the door for us."
Noriaki smiled, the bags under his eyes weighing down the curve of his lips. "I appreciate it, but I already spent his money on this ticket. I might as well commit."
Jotaro frowned. "He doesn't give a shit about the money."
Noriaki shook his head. Jotaro couldn't see his face from this angle, only the pale nape of his neck as his hair swayed from side to side.
"I do," he said simply. "And I need to do this now. If I don't, I'm probably never going to go back."
The shadowing skyscrapers outside the window suddenly gave way to the open sky, miles of ancient houses and laundry lines below the rising tracks. A flush of moonlight flooded the car, stretching out over Jotaro's legs in a cold sheen.
"You don't want to just, leave?" Jotaro asked. “It’d be pretty easy. You’re already missing to them.”
Noriaki tilted his head, and Jotaro caught a glimpse of troubled consideration on his face.
"I do," he finally said. "But I want to do it my own terms. Not because of him."
Jotaro nodded. He understood.
"You can stay at my place if you want then. After you talk to them," he said. "M'not trying to make you stick around. It’s just an option.”
That was a lie. He already felt fragile enough parting ways in Egypt with Avdol and Polnareff. If he hadn't kept his hat pulled down low, he probably wouldn't have been able to keep from tearing up when they hugged him and promised to call.
Jotaro wasn't sure if he had it in him for another goodbye just yet.
Noriaki smiled at him, and even through the exhaustion that lined his face, it felt warm.
"Thank you," he said. "I think I might take you up on that for now."
The cinch around Jotaro's throat lightened ever so slightly, the air just a little easier to take in now. He patted around his pockets, then remembered his notepad was in his suitcase, which he'd flung into the seat in front of them in a last-ditch effort at conscious thought.
"Let me write down my address," he said. "Give me a minute."
"Oh, I already have it." Noriaki flustered when Jotaro squinted at him, clearing his throat and gesturing vaguely towards his backpack. "Your mother gave it to me before we left. With your home number and all."
Jotaro blinked. He didn't remember Noriaki talking with his mom back then, just the whirlwind of packing and flight plans before they set off.
“Huh,” Jotaro said. “Guess you’re staying then.”
Noriaki stared at him with the face of someone who had lost the thread of the conversation, so Jotaro hurried to explain himself.
“My mom really liked you,” he said. “She was worried after I brought you back home. I mean, I didn’t really know who you were back then, but she said she would have been fine if you stayed for a few days just to heal up. She’ll probably be glad to see you back if anything.”
“Ah.” Noriaki opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I’m glad she approved of me. I don’t think I could ever pay her back for everything she did.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jotaro replied. “She’s not expecting you to.”
He still seemed a little stunned, like it was some miracle that Holly of all people would have welcomed him back with open arms. Jotaro knew his mother though. What she cared about, she cared for with her whole being. It was obvious, really.
Jotaro grimaced. Before, she would have cared for him with everything she had. Now, he wasn’t sure if she still had that kind of soul left in her.
"You must be excited to see your mother again though," Noriaki said. "I heard she was already on her feet by the time we left Egypt."
The mood soured ever so slightly, and Jotaro wasn’t sure how to fix it.
"Yeah," he muttered.
The rumbling of the train swallowed up the silence between them, but it didn't bite down on the tension that pierced the air. He heard Noriaki shift, their thighs brushing together for a quick second before Noriaki straightened up.
"Did something happen?" Noriaki asked delicately.
"That's the thing,” Jotaro said. "I don't know."
It was stupid. It was stupid, and selfish, and Noriaki shouldn't have been treating it like it was some valid concern. He still did anyways, leaning in with that pinched curve to his lips.
"I don't know," Jotaro repeated. "Everything else's gone wrong up to now. Things barely worked out for us. It's just—"
Jotaro bit his tongue.
"It's too easy if she's all better, just like that."
Noriaki's face softened.
"I see," he said quietly.
And wasn’t that just the cherry on top. Noriaki was the one who was taking things into his own hands and finding closure for himself, and here was Jotaro, cowering away from his own fucking mom because he was too scared of dealing with the slightest chance that his happy ending could magically be whipped out from under his feet.
“I’m going to go back,” Jotaro said. He felt like he needed to say it outloud, make it clear for them both. “She’s dealt with enough of my shit. I need to see her again. But it’s different now.”
Jotaro scowled. “Everything’s changed so fast, and I can deal with that. It’s supposed to be over, and all. I just don’t trust it. I don’t think I can handle it if it feels like things are going back to normal only for something else to go wrong again.”
He crossed his arms over his stomach, eyes fixed on the scuffed plastic headrest in front of him. It wouldn’t have been so bad if he could just stay on this train for a little while longer, just him and Noriaki, until he could wrap his head around what it meant for things be to normal now. He’s had enough of change. For now, he just wanted everything to stop.
The train was still moving though, and Noriaki needed to go home. From the knowing look in his eye, Jotaro wondered if Noriaki could somehow read that childish want on his face.
“I know what you mean,” Noriaki said quietly. “I feel like time moves so strangely sometimes. Like there’s blind spots where I should remember things and an emphasis on what I don’t want to remember. I think it’s normal to be a little scared of that, really.”
Jotaro’s hackles rose on instinct. A sharp retort about how he wasn’t scared burned on his tongue, but it sizzled out before he could open his mouth.
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
Noriaki gave him an apologetic smile, laced with an unspoken understanding.
“I’m not sure if there is a way to fix that kind of fear, to be honest,” he said. “But I think that it’s important that you see Holly again. Going back and forth over what could happen takes forever, but something can only go wrong once. After that, it’s a different problem. You’ll only find out if you go through with it though. I guess the trick is that you just can’t let yourself stop.”
Jotaro wasn’t sure why, but his lip quirked up in what could have been a hint of a smile. “Like ripping off a bandaid.”
“Mhm,” Noriaki said. Even with his weather-worn uniform, scruffed and patched over after dozens of fights and hundreds of could-go-wrongs becoming have-gone-wrongs, he still managed to grin. “I wouldn’t recommend doing things like me though. Just do as I say and not as I do.”
“I dunno.” Jotaro leaned back in his seat, the rigid frame digging into his spine and sending a sharp ache down to his tailbone. “Seems like you know what you’re doing.”
“I think this train is only big enough for one burned out honor student,” Noriaki replied wryly. “I’ll kick you off myself if you try to take my place.”
It must have been the exhaustion. Noriaki’s eyes were bright, snickering to himself under his breath, and before he knew it, Jotaro was laughing with him like he’d spit out the funniest joke known to man. The sound echoed off the metal walls and bounced up from the grimy linoleum floors, reverberating into a cacophony bigger than the two of them could ever dream of becoming.
Jotaro’s ribs panged, and he could barely catch his breath, but in that moment, it really was the funniest thing he’d ever heard because Noriaki was the only one who got it.
Everything felt light for a minute, suspended in motion and weightless in the air. Ever so slightly though, something changed.
Jotaro still didn’t know where he was, but the train was slowing down and Noriaki had sobered up to look at him with a pale smile on his face. His stop was coming up.
“Wait.” Jotaro’s nails dug into the meat of his palm as he clenched and unclenched his fist. “Let me get my suitcase. I can walk you back.”
“You won’t get back home if you do,” Noriaki reminded him gently. “This is the last train of the night.”
It was stupid. Jotaro had crash-landed from airplanes and submarines in the past month, but somehow this train steadily carrying them to Noriaki’s neighborhood was the scariest thing Jotaro had experienced.
Though he tried to keep it hidden, Noriaki must have caught a glimpse of uncertainty that crossed his face. Cautiously, Noriaki glanced over his shoulder, like there was anybody on the train who could possibly be looking at them. Before Jotaro could ask him about it though, Noriaki leaned down, grabbed at his face with clammy hands and kissed him.
It was terrible. The train was still moving, and Noriaki nearly crushed Jotaro against the wall in his struggle to stay upright, knees knocking together in the too-tight pocket between the seats.
Jotaro still kissed him back.
He was reaching up blind, fingers snagging into the starched collar of Noriaki’s uniform jacket. He felt almost dizzy with vertigo, a pit of emotion weighing down in his stomach strong enough to change his center of gravity down into the worn plastic seat underneath him. Jotaro didn’t have control over his limbs, couldn’t regain his balance when the train jolted and sent him swaying backwards, but Noriaki’s grip on his face was iron-tight, nails digging into his hair hard enough to leave a hidden curve of crescent moon indents along his scalp.
Jotaro jumped when Noriaki stumbled and bit down on his lower lip, the coppery taste of blood trickling into his mouth. His muffled grunt was swallowed up by Noriaki’s tongue, lips cracked and aching by the time Noriaki pulled back. The speaker above them played out a tinny jingle that echoed throughout their empty car, followed by a woman’s automated voice reading out the name of the next stop.
“Shit, I’m sorry.” One of Noriaki’s hands came down to try and wipe at Jotaro’s lips, his eyes glossy. As the speakers called out the next stop again, Noriaki’s attempts at cleaning the blood off of his face grew more frantic, his thumb accidentally digging into the split his teeth made and forcing a wince out of Jotaro.
“Fuck, Jotaro, I’m so sorry,” Noriaki said. His eyes were wide, lips stained mauve, and looking up at him, still sickly pale under the light, Jotaro wondered if maybe he was being crushed under the pressure of the clock too.
“It’s fine.” Jotaro’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth, a dead weight of muscle that he had to swallow down. “It’s—It’s fine.”
“I didn’t mean to—shit. Shit, I’m so sorry.” Noriaki’s lips thinned into a tense line when the train started to a crawl, his grip on Jotaro’s jaw tightening to a vice. “You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” Jotaro rasped out. “I know.”
“Okay,” Noriaki took in a deep breath, closing his eyes to let out a slow exhale. This close, Jotaro could see faint shadows his eyelashes left on his cheeks. “I’ll try to call you first, but I really think I might stay at your place. Probably some time this week, to be honest. I don’t know if I want to stay any longer with my parents than I have to.”
Jotaro nodded hard enough to make his neck twinge, his hat coming dangerously close to toppling off of his head. “I’ll tell my mom. She was probably expecting you to come spend some time with us anyways.”
Noriaki was moving in a flurry now, securing his bag and straightening out Jotaro’s hat, pressing it down firmly over his eyes. The brim dug into the bridge of Jotaro’s nose and blinded him for a few precious seconds, but just before things went dark, he thought he saw Noriaki blinking back a glossy sheen in his eyes.
“You need to get off on the second to the last stop and transfer to the other local line,” Noriaki said. “That one should go around to your neighborhood.”
“Second to last,” Jotaro repeated. He took a minute to breathe under the cover of his hat. Noriaki wasn’t breaking, and Jotaro wouldn’t either, even if his eyes were already starting to water.
“On this train. Did you get that?” Noriaki’s voice warbled, but he bit it down before it could crack. “The second to the last stop on this train, and then you get on the next one.”
The train slowed, the rubber handles hanging from the bars above them swaying idly back and forth until they came to a complete stop. Behind Noriaki, the doors opened to an empty platform.
“The second to the last stop,” Noriaki said, his eyes still fixed on Jotaro. “Don’t you dare miss it.”
The hand adjusting his hat trailed down to his cheek again, fingers cold in the midnight chill. Jotaro could see Noriaki steel himself to pull away, and it sank in then that he was really leaving.
He wasn’t sure what drove him, if it was grief or joy or some strange bastardization of the two, but he shot up from his seat to hook his hand around Noriaki’s neck and kiss him again.
Noriaki pulled him close for an overwhelming second, and in the next, he was sprinting towards the now-closing door.
“Get back safe!” he called out, almost tripping onto the platform and stumbling over his own feet. “I’ll come by soon!”
“Be careful!” Jotaro barked back. He hiccuped, forced his voice to even out so Noriaki could hear him. “For fuck’s sake, I’ll clean up the guest room, so don’t fucking die before you get there!”
Noriaki smiled, his mouth opening to call out something Jotaro couldn’t make out before the tinny jingle overpowered his words. Without fanfare, the doors closed, muting out the outside world in a silent vacuum. Jotaro nearly ran for the door to try and find out what it was he was trying to say, but before he could get on his feet, the train lurched forward.
Noriaki smiled at him through the glass, waving like they were just parting ways after school, but when the light shifted to illuminate his face, Jotaro could have sworn he saw him wipe at his eyes with the back of his sleeve.
He turned his head to try and get a closer look, because his eyes were already stinging, the world hazing a bit behind his watery vision, and if he knew for certain that Noriaki was crying, then that would be it for him. He couldn’t find him in time though. Gradually, Noriaki slipped from window to window, further and further behind Jotaro until finally, he vanished.
Misty ribbons of moonlight swept across the empty car, and in the back of his mind, Jotaro realized that he had never actually said goodbye.
Quietly, the train kept rumbling on, eating up miles of track and leaving the platform behind, out of sight and out of mind. Jotaro didn’t have a choice anymore. He was moving forward. He wasn’t thinking of much anymore, his head heavy with static. Sharp hiccups burst out of his throat as he roughly wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. It should have been loud now that he was alone, but without Noriaki, the sound of his own crying felt hushed.
It was futile, smearing tears everywhere across his cheeks and hands, but Jotaro still kept wiping at his face and huffing out too-short breaths. He could cry. That was fine. But he made sure to keep his eyes fixed on the display board at the front of the car, tracking every name that trailed across the screen.
The final passenger of the night, Jotaro sat and counted the stops until he could find the next train home.