Chapter Text
Kakyoin had always made an effort to look his best—whether it was a normal school day, a quiet moment alone, or the middle of a battle where blood and dust clung to his skin. He didn’t think he was ugly. Not exactly. But he never felt like he was enough. No matter how well he dressed, how carefully he styled his hair, or how composed he appeared, it never seemed to matter. No one ever looked at him the way he secretly hoped they would.
Growing up, he often found himself ignored, pushed to the side in conversations, overlooked in group settings. Even his parents, distant and cold, seemed more like polite strangers than people who were supposed to love him unconditionally. Their affection was rare, fleeting—if it ever existed at all. He learned early on how to be quiet, how to fade into the background. It became a survival skill. He wasn’t disliked, just… unnoticed. Like wallpaper in a room no one really cared about.
The loneliness settled into him like dust on forgotten furniture. For over seventeen years, he had lived with that quiet ache, the nagging feeling that he was always second choice—if he was chosen at all. And yet, he never stopped trying. He still wore clothes that made him feel confident. He still stood straight and kept his head high. Because maybe, just maybe, someone would see him one day. Not as a background character, not as someone forgettable—but as someone worth noticing.
It wasn’t until Kakyoin met the others—Mr. Joestar, Avdol, Polnareff, and especially Jotaro—that something began to shift inside him. For the first time, he felt seen. Not just for his skills in battle, not just as a Stand user—but as a person. They didn’t treat him like he was invisible, or like he was in the way. They asked his opinion. They laughed when he made dry jokes. They waited for him when he lagged behind. It was subtle, at first, but each small gesture added to something he had never known before: connection.
It all started the day Jotaro pulled that flesh bud from his forehead. Kakyoin had been under DIO’s control, his thoughts twisted, his will no longer his own. He couldn’t remember everything that happened during that time, but he remembered the feeling—how helpless and lost he had been. And then Jotaro had stepped in, wordless and focused, gripping the grotesque parasite with his bare fingers and tearing it out, risking his life in the process.
Kakyoin never asked why Jotaro did it. He doubted Jotaro had a clear reason himself. That was just how he was—quiet, direct, acting on instinct. But to Kakyoin, it meant everything. Someone had saved him. Not for glory. Not for gratitude. Just because they could. That single act sparked something inside him. It made him feel warm in a way he didn’t recognize. It made him respect Jotaro more than he could ever say out loud.
One afternoon, long after that moment, the group found themselves driving through the desert in a jeep, the heat radiating off the sand like a second sun. Joseph was at the wheel, mumbling under his breath about directions and “damn mirages.” Avdol rode shotgun, occasionally pointing out landmarks or giving updates on how far they still had to go. Polnareff and Kakyoin sat in the back, Jotaro wedged against the door, his hat tilted low, arms crossed.
There was no battle, no threat in sight—just the open road and the sound of tires crunching over sand. For once, they were all at ease.
“I still can’t believe how far we’ve come,” Polnareff said, stretching with a groan. “Feels like years since we left.”
“It hasn’t even been two months,” Kakyoin replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Still feels like a lifetime,” Polnareff glancing over at him. “At least now we’re not total strangers, huh?”
Kakyoin looked out the window. The horizon shimmered, endless and golden. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Not strangers anymore.”
Jotaro shifted slightly beside him. “You’re a part of this team. Don’t forget that.”
It wasn’t flowery or emotional, Jotaro never was, but the words struck Kakyoin like thunder in a clear sky. He turned his head just a little, eyes meeting Jotaro’s under the brim of his cap. Jotaro looked away almost instantly, like it was nothing. But to Kakyoin, it was everything.
Kakyoin didn’t know when exactly the others had become important to him. It wasn’t like they had some grand moment of bonding—no tearful speeches, no dramatic hugs. It was more like a slow and quiet shift, like the sun rising inch by inch. But one day he realized he didn’t feel alone anymore, and that truth settled in his chest like warmth after a long winter.
Joseph Joestar was the kind of person Kakyoin had never known before, loud, eccentric, sometimes a bit ridiculous, but kind in a way that felt genuine. Joseph didn’t treat Kakyoin like a child or a subordinate. He treated him like someone who mattered. When Kakyoin spoke, Joseph listened—even if he interrupted a moment later with something completely off-topic. There was a fatherly energy to him, though Kakyoin had never really known what a father figure should feel like. Sometimes, Joseph’s optimism bordered on reckless, but Kakyoin couldn’t help but admire it. It was comforting to know that someone believed they’d all make it out of this alive, even when the odds said otherwise.
Avdol was the grounding presence of the group. Calm, steady, and full of quiet wisdom, he gave Kakyoin something to anchor himself to. In the early days, when Kakyoin was still unsure about where he stood with the others, Avdol treated him with patience and quiet respect. He never pried, but he always seemed to know when Kakyoin needed someone to talk to, or someone to simply sit beside in silence. He was someone Kakyoin could count on, not just in battle, but in the quiet moments in between. Avdol saw him, understood him, without needing words.
Polnareff was a surprise. Loud, impulsive, and sometimes incredibly annoying, Polnareff was the exact kind of person Kakyoin usually kept his distance from. But despite the way he talked too much and occasionally drove him insane, Polnareff had a good heart. A huge heart, in fact. He wore his emotions on his sleeve, and Kakyoin couldn’t help but envy how freely he expressed himself. Over time, they developed a strange but comfortable friendship trading dry jokes and teasing insults that, underneath, were layered with care. He never would’ve expected to like someone like Polnareff, but somehow, they made a good pair.
And then… there was Jotaro.
Jotaro, who barely spoke. Who kept his emotions locked behind stone walls. Who rarely made eye contact unless he was about to throw a punch. But for some reason, Jotaro was the one Kakyoin watched the most. Maybe it was because he was the first to reach out—to literally pull the darkness out of Kakyoin’s head. Maybe it was the way he carried himself, so sure and solid, like nothing could shake him. Or maybe it was because, when Jotaro did speak, it was usually something that made Kakyoin’s heart beat faster.
Their relationship wasn’t easy to define. It wasn’t loud or open like his friendship with Polnareff. It wasn’t patient and gentle like his understanding with Avdol. But it had weight. Jotaro never said much, but when he did, it mattered. He remembered details. He noticed things Kakyoin didn’t think anyone else would. It made him feel important in ways he didn’t have words for.
Being around Jotaro made him nervous—but not in a bad way. In a too-aware-of-every-movement kind of way. And maybe that nervousness had a name Kakyoin wasn’t ready to admit yet.
At first, Jotaro Kujo was an enigma to Kakyoin—distant, unreadable, like a book with no title and all the pages sealed shut. He kept his arms crossed, his eyes half-hidden under the shadow of his cap, and rarely joined in on conversations unless someone really needed to be shut up. And yet, something about him pulled Kakyoin’s attention again and again.
As the journey went on, that distance began to shrink—but not all at once. Jotaro didn’t suddenly become warm or chatty. That just wasn’t him. Instead, it was small things. Quiet things. Moments that stuck in Kakyoin’s mind long after they’d passed.
It started with eye contact.
At first, Kakyoin could barely hold his gaze. Jotaro had a stare that could cut through iron, and Kakyoin wasn’t used to being looked at like that—not seriously, not like he mattered. But sometimes, when the others were talking or joking around, Kakyoin would glance over and catch Jotaro already looking at him. Just watching. Calm. Focused. Like he was listening, even when he didn’t say a word.
Then came the shared silences.
Whenever they stopped to rest in the desert or took shelter in a shady ruin or roadside inn, Kakyoin found himself naturally gravitating toward wherever Jotaro had settled. He never meant to. It just… happened. Sometimes he’d sit a few feet away, reading a book or cleaning Hierophant’s armor plates, and after a while, Jotaro would speak—just one or two words. A quiet observation. A question. A comment about the weather or about one of the others acting like an idiot. And then they’d lapse back into silence. But it was a comfortable silence, the kind that made Kakyoin’s chest feel light.
One evening, while Joseph and Avdol argued over a map and Polnareff loudly complained about how he deserved a bath for once, Jotaro quietly handed Kakyoin a bottle of water. Their fingers brushed. Jotaro didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. Kakyoin felt the warmth in his cheeks and quickly looked away—but he smiled.
Later, during a fight with an enemy Stand user, Kakyoin nearly got blindsided. A blade came within inches of his side—but Jotaro was there, faster than he had any right to be. Star Platinum’s fist knocked the attacker away with a single, thunderous blow. After the battle, while Joseph was giving one of his dramatic speeches and Avdol checked their wounds, Jotaro stood close beside him, silent, but firm.
“You alright?” he asked.
It was quiet. Almost gruff. But it caught Kakyoin off guard more than any blow in battle.
“…Yeah,” Kakyoin replied, blinking. “Thanks.”
Jotaro just nodded, as if that was all he needed. But he didn’t walk away. He stayed there, close enough for their shoulders to almost touch.
From that day on, it kept happening. Jotaro would walk beside him more often. He’d wait for him when the group moved too fast. Once, Kakyoin woke up from a nightmare—cold sweat, short breath, and found Jotaro already awake, sitting nearby on the night watch.
“You okay?” he asked again, voice low.
Kakyoin hesitated. “Just a dream.”
“Mm.” Jotaro looked at him for a moment longer, then offered his coat. Just draped it over Kakyoin’s shoulders, casually, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Get some sleep.”
And Kakyoin had. Wrapped in the scent of Jotaro’s coat, grounded by the knowledge that he wasn’t alone, not anymore.
Whatever it was that was happening between them, it didn’t need to be defined—not yet. Jotaro didn’t need to say much for Kakyoin to feel it.
He was getting closer. Little by little. And Kakyoin was letting him.
Till one day, it happened—so casually, so unexpectedly, that it knocked the wind right out of Kakyoin.
They were walking through a quiet desert town just before dusk. The heat still clung to the ground, making the air shimmer in waves, but the sun was low enough that the shadows stretched long and golden. After a rough day of travel and narrowly avoiding another Stand ambush, all five of them were tired, sore, and just looking for a place to stay.
Joseph walked ahead with Avdol, scanning buildings for anything that looked like an inn. Behind them, Polnareff and Kakyoin were bickering lightheartedly, trading jabs in the way only two people who actually liked each other could get away with.
“Oh come on,” Polnareff said, grinning like a menace. “Do you curl your hair every morning, or does it naturally form those little perfect loops? It’s very… elegant.”
Kakyoin snorted. “Says the man with a foot-tall silver candle sticking out of his head. You look like a birthday cake.”
Polnareff gasped in mock offense. “I’ll have you know my hair is iconic, mon ami. Unlike yours—someone might mistake you for a pretty girl from behind.”
That earned a chuckle from Joseph up front. “He’s got you there, Kakyoin,” he called without turning around.
Kakyoin rolled his eyes, brushing some strands of hair out of his face. “If looking clean and well-groomed is a crime, then lock me up.”
Polnareff kept laughing—until Jotaro, who had been walking quietly beside them with his hands in his pockets and his cap low over his eyes, said calmly:
“…He looks pretty.”
The group went silent.
Kakyoin blinked. Polnareff froze mid-step. Joseph actually stopped walking, and even Avdol turned slightly, one brow raised.
Jotaro didn’t look up. He didn’t even seem fazed. “Just saying,” he muttered, as if the desert hadn’t suddenly gone dead quiet.
Kakyoin’s mouth opened, then closed again. His ears burned. He stared at the side of Jotaro’s face, unsure if he’d hallucinated the whole thing.
Polnareff, bless him, recovered first. “Wait, wait, wait—did you just call him pretty?”
Jotaro shrugged. “You said he looked like a girl. I said he looks pretty. Not the same thing.”
“But it kinda is,” Joseph said, his voice halfway between surprised and amused.
“Not really,” Avdol added thoughtfully. “You can be pretty and not look like a girl.”
Kakyoin still hadn’t said anything. His heart was thudding, his brain scrambling to make sense of what just happened. He turned toward Jotaro again, but the other boy was still walking, like he hadn’t just upended Kakyoin’s entire sense of self with three words.
Eventually, Kakyoin found his voice. “You… weren’t joking?”
Jotaro glanced at him. Just a brief look from under the brim of his cap—but it was steady. “Didn’t sound like a joke, did it?”
Kakyoin felt something warm stir in his chest. His face was burning, but he couldn’t stop the faint smile curling at his lips. “No,” he murmured. “I guess it didn’t.”
They kept walking. The group slowly resumed conversation, teasing Jotaro now, much to his annoyance. But Kakyoin didn’t join in. He walked a little closer to Jotaro, just enough that their shoulders almost brushed.
And even as the sun dipped below the horizon and the town lights began to flicker on, Kakyoin couldn’t stop thinking about it.
He thinks I’m pretty.
Fast forward a little the town wasn’t big enough to have options. After walking for nearly an hour, the only inn they could find was tucked between a boarded-up gift shop and a worn-down café, its sign half-faded and the front door creaking when pushed open.
Joseph took the lead, heading to the front desk with that practiced, easy smile of his. The woman behind the counter looked half-asleep, but perked up when Joseph leaned on the counter.
“We’re looking for rooms,” he said. “Five of us.”
The woman checked her book, her brow furrowing. “Sorry,” she said after a moment. “We’ve only got one room left. Two beds. That’s it.”
Joseph blinked. “One room?”
“That’s right. Lotta travelers lately. Something about a train line being down. Everyone’s stuck in town.”
Joseph sighed, turning back to the group. “Well, fellas. Bad news: only one room left. Two beds.”
Polnareff groaned. “Seriously? Guess we’re back to the floor, huh?”
“I don’t mind,” Avdol said. “We’ve slept in worse places.”
“No kidding,” Joseph muttered, scratching the back of his head. “We don’t have the luxury of being picky.”
Without much debate, they took the room.
It wasn’t terrible—small, clean-ish, with two twin beds shoved to either side of the room and a little nightstand in between. A single ceiling fan spun lazily above them, and the window gave them a view of the street outside. There was just enough space on the floor for sleeping bags and makeshift beds.
Joseph was the first to claim a bed—fair, since he was the oldest. Avdol joined him without complaint, settling into the other side with a content sigh.
That left the second bed for the remaining three.
Polnareff stood beside it with his hands on his hips. “Okay, it’s small,” he declared. “can we even make it work?.”
Kakyoin eyed the bed doubtfully. “Three people?”
Jotaro didn’t even blink. “Not like we’ve got a choice.”
“Exactly!” Polnareff grinned. “Besides, we’ll just squish together. It’ll be like camping—cozy.”
“Speak for yourself,” Kakyoin muttered, already regretting the situation.
Still, they made it work—somehow. Polnareff flopped onto one side of the mattress like a ragdoll, arms and legs everywhere. Jotaro took the other side, stiff and composed, lying with his arms folded over his chest like a vampire in a coffin.
And Kakyoin…somehow, got stuck in the middle.
There was no escape.
The bed dipped heavily on both sides, hemming him in. Polnareff’s elbow occasionally bumped his arm as he tossed and turned, while Jotaro remained frustratingly still but very close. Kakyoin tried to keep his hands to himself, curled in on his own chest like a folded-up napkin.
It was… warm. Uncomfortably so. But not just from body heat.
He could still feel the echo of Jotaro’s words from earlier “He looks pretty.” That single comment had looped in his head over and over again, bouncing between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope.
Now they were lying shoulder to shoulder.
He couldn’t focus.
Polnareff, of course, was blissfully unaware. “This reminds me of that time I got trapped in a sleeping bag with three other guys during winter training. Someone had beans and nearly killed us all.”
“Go to sleep, Polnareff,” Jotaro muttered.
“I’m just saying, if any of you fart in your sleep, I’m out the window.”
Kakyoin let out a small laugh despite himself, hiding it behind his hand.
Eventually, the room quieted. Joseph and Avdol were already asleep, soft snores filling the space. Polnareff finally went limp and started lightly snoring as well, his mouth slightly open.
Kakyoin lay awake.
He could feel the faint rise and fall of Jotaro’s breathing next to him. Could feel the heat of his arm near his own. Could still hear that voice in his mind.
“Hey,” Kakyoin whispered after a long while.
Jotaro didn’t respond right away. “Hm?”
“…Did you mean it? What you said earlier?”
There was another pause, longer this time.
“…Yeah,” Jotaro finally murmured.
Kakyoin turned slightly toward him, eyes adjusting to the darkness. “Why?”
Jotaro didn’t move. “Why not?”
“That’s not an answer.”
Jotaro exhaled through his nose. “Because you are. I just… didn’t think it’d be such a big deal to say it.”
“It’s not,” Kakyoin said quickly. Then softer, “It’s just… no one’s ever said it before. Not like that.”
Silence again.
Then Jotaro shifted, just slightly. “Well. Get used to it.”
Kakyoin’s heart jumped a little at that.
For the first time that night, Kakyoin let his body relax fully. His eyes fluttered closed, heart calm but full. He could still feel the warmth of Jotaro’s presence beside him, solid and grounding.
And if Jotaro’s arm lightly brushed his in the middle of the night, well. He didn’t pull away.
The sun peeked through the dusty blinds, painting soft golden lines across the small hotel room.
The room was still. Avdol was already up and meditating by the window, eyes closed, the soft hum of his breathing grounding the space. Joseph was snoring like a motorboat on the other bed, one arm thrown dramatically over his face.
And in the second bed something worth waking the whole world for.
Polnareff had risen early, rubbing sleep from his eyes and yawning loudly. He scratched the back of his head, shuffled to the bathroom… and froze mid-step when he glanced back at the bed behind him.
Then he saw it.
Jotaro and Kakyoin, still sound asleep were practically wrapped around each other.
Kakyoin’s head was resting snugly against Jotaro’s chest, hair slightly messy and face peaceful in a way that made him look younger, softer. One of Jotaro’s arms had clearly fallen around him during the night, hand resting gently at Kakyoin’s back. Their legs had tangled somewhere along the way, and neither seemed in any rush to move.
Polnareff’s jaw dropped. His soul left his body for a second.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, hands flying up to cover his mouth before he let out a snort of laughter.
Carefully, like someone about to commit a high-level crime, he tiptoed over to Joseph’s duffel bag and fished out the spirit camera.
“
Just one… little… picture…” he muttered, eyes gleaming with the kind of mischief only Polnareff could harness before 8 a.m.
Click.
Flash.
The shutter snapped, and both boys shifted slightly in their sleep—Kakyoin curling even closer, murmuring something unintelligible against Jotaro’s shirt.
Polnareff nearly dropped the camera. He was giddy.
Avdol opened one eye from where he sat. “Polnareff,” he said, voice calm. “Don’t be cruel.”
“I’m not! I’m documenting love, Avdol! This is art!”
Another click. Another flash.
Jotaro’s brow twitched. Kakyoin stirred.
“Polnareff…” Avdol warned.
“Alright, alright!” he whispered, backing up with the camera clutched to his chest like treasure. “I’m done. But ohhh, I’m keeping this one.”
Jotaro blinked awake groggily, frowning as the light hit his face. He yawned, barely registering the weight against him.
Then he looked down.
Kakyoin, still sleeping soundly, was nestled into his chest—hair tousled, arms folded gently near Jotaro’s ribs. Their bodies pressed together as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
Jotaro stiffened.
“…Yare yare daze,” he muttered, voice low, but he didn’t move.
Kakyoin blinked awake next, slow and groggy, lifting his head—and immediately realizing where he was. His face turned red in record time.
“S-sorry!” he stammered, pulling back fast. “I—I didn’t mean—!”
Jotaro didn’t even flinch. “It’s fine.”
Kakyoin looked away, ears still flushed.
From the far side of the room, Polnareff coughed loudly. “You two sure got close last night.”
Kakyoin buried his face in both hands. “Please tell me you didn’t—”
Click.
“I definitely did.”
Joseph woke up just in time to hear the last part. “What’s all the noise?”
Polnareff held up the camera triumphantly. “Just got photographic proof that these two lovebirds are finally getting along.”
Joseph blinked, then grinned. “About time.”
Jotaro sighed deeply, dragging a hand over his face. “Polnareff, if you don’t delete that—”
“You’ll what, glare at me?” Polnareff teased, dancing out of reach. “Too late. This one’s going in the memory book.”
Kakyoin groaned and flopped back onto the bed, face down. Despite the embarrassment, though… his heart felt full.
He wouldn’t trade that moment for anything.
Later that day, after the group had eaten breakfast and packed up to continue their journey, the mood had returned to its usual chaotic rhythm—Joseph grumbling about back pain, Avdol checking maps, Polnareff making loud jokes at Kakyoin’s expense, and Kakyoin pretending not to be absolutely mortified.
As they loaded into the car, Jotaro lingered by the inn’s door, arms folded, hat tilted low over his eyes.
Polnareff was the last one out, humming to himself as he tucked the spirit camera back into Joseph’s bag. That’s when he noticed Jotaro still standing there, watching him.
“…What’s up?” he asked casually.
Jotaro didn’t answer at first. He simply looked away, jaw tight, as if trying to convince himself not to speak.
Then—
“…Give me a copy of the photo.”
Polnareff blinked. “Huh?”
Jotaro gave him a side glance, brief but serious. “The one from this morning.”
Polnareff grinned slowly, surprised—but not mocking this time. “You sure? I thought you were gonna threaten to destroy it.”
“I changed my mind,” Jotaro said, voice gruff. “Just give me a copy. Don’t say anything.”
A short silence.
Then Polnareff smirked, patting the camera bag fondly. “You got it, Kuujou. Don’t worry… I won’t tell a soul.”
He winked before walking off toward the car, leaving Jotaro standing in the quiet morning light, hat casting a shadow over the faintest curve of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
END