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Kakyoin had become like porcelain.
Poorly pieced back together with old, cheap glue.
And Jotaro didn't even know when it started.
Right after the fight with Dio?
When Kakyoin woke up from a coma?
Or maybe when he walked out of the hospital with that huge smile on his face, leaning on his cane like everything was perfectly fine?
"You almost died."
The first words Jotaro could remember saying. Everything after that turned into static. Laughter tangled with relief, shaky breaths. And then the overprotectiveness set in.
Controlled, heavy.
Before all this, touch felt simple. Ever since they first kissed in the backseat of a car somewhere in Singapore, it had come naturally.
"You've already fallen apart once."
So Jotaro started being more careful.
A hand stopping halfway through a movement.
A touch too light to really feel.
A hug gentle enough to barely offer comfort.
Annoying.
Jotaro exhaled another stream of smoke and moved over to the left side of the sidewalk.
"Why do you keep switching sides?" Kakyoin asked. "It's irritating."
Jotaro shrugged, flicking the cigarette butt out into the street.
"Habit."
Kakyoin raised an eyebrow, smiling briefly.
"Seems like a new one," he scoffed.
Jotaro nodded, his attention catching on the car passing a little too close beside him.
"Seems so."
Kakyoin pulled him closer, resting a hand against his back.
But all Jotaro could focus on was the slower pace of his steps. The unsteady grip on a cane. The slight sway in his posture.
All of it only made him clench his jaw tighter.
"If you want, you can stay over," Noriaki said, stopping halfway through a step. "My parents are out tonight."
"Sure," Jotaro answered before Kakyoin could even finish the thought.
_____________
The ice had already melted in their drinks. They sat on the couch, playing a video game. Kakyoin held the controller with fierce determination while Jotaro was mostly just trying to hit the right buttons.
"You're hopeless at this game. It'll be easier if you just give me the controller," Kakyoin laughed, immediately snatching it from Jotaro's hands.
"Hey!" Jotaro protested, lunging to take it back.
But he stopped, calculating how much force he was about to use.
So he pulled away.
"Tch..."
Kakyoin exhaled and crossed his arms over his chest.
"What's with you?" he asked lightly, though his gaze lingered on Jotaro a little too long. "Since when do you back off that easily?"
Right. It used to be natural, teasing each other like this. Sparring. Snatching books out of each other's hands. Pointless wrestling matches over absolutely nothing.
When, exactly, had even thinking about it started to feel almost nostalgic?
Kakyoin noticed the way his shoulders tensed. His brows furrowed in suspicion. But Jotaro didn't answer right away. He focused on adjusting his hat.
"I'll get some ice."
He stood up immediately.
And left the room.
So fucking annoying.
_____________
It wasn't their first night together. They had already shared a bed on the way to Cairo, and Jotaro had spent plenty of nights at the hospital. Not necessarily sleeping then, mostly just listening to him breathe.
His breathing was steady now. Deep, even. Despite the lingering weakness in his muscles, Kakyoin's chest rose and fell in an even rhythm.
And still, Jotaro kept listening.
The blanket rustled as Kakyoin turned toward him. He pulled Jotaro closer, wrapping an arm around him. Seemingly just like always.
Except this time, a little too tightly.
"You've been weird lately. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Jotaro said too quickly.
Kakyoin frowned as Jotaro pushed himself up onto one elbow. He expected the next move, the next touch. But Jotaro didn't move at all. He only looked into his eyes.
The words stuck in his throat, heavy and useless.
So he stayed silent.
Kakyoin exhaled, looking away.
"I'm noticing too many inconsistencies," he said quietly. "That's why I'm asking."
He shifted a little closer. Like he was testing a theory.
"Say..." He tried to keep his voice low and steady, but it trembled anyway. "Maybe it's just... my scar. Maybe my stomach disgusts you now?"
Jotaro lifted his hand, placing it on Noriaki's cheek, and immediately turned his face back toward him.
"That's bullshit," he said. "Don't think that."
"Then what is it?"
"I told you. Nothing."
Kakyoin sighed and shook his head. He covered Jotaro's hand with his own.
"Then come here."
They lay back down. Kakyoin shifted closer, but only enough for their shoulders to touch.
"Can I at least be this close?"
Jotaro didn't answer right away. He turned onto his side to look at him.
He was thinner than before. His jaw stood out more sharply now. But his eyes were still the same. They had regained the spark Jotaro had been searching for in them ever since the hospital.
When did it happened?
He lifted a hand, placing it on Kakyoin's cheek again, turning his face toward him. His hand slid down into the hollow of his neck.
As if he were searching for the confidence his movements used to have.
Kakyoin leaned closer, kissing his forehead. His nose. The corner of his mouth.
"You're not acting like you don't want to touch me," he murmured between kisses.
"Because I do..." Jotaro swallowed. "It's just..."
He ran his hand over Kakyoin's shoulders, down to his chest, feeling his control begin to slip.
But he pulled away the moment he reached his ribs.
As if the control he'd lost for a second had suddenly started burning, reminding him of itself too sharply.
Kakyoin leaned back slightly. His gaze had gone cautious, a little blurred.
"So my theory was right..."
"You don't disgust me," Jotaro cut in.
Kakyoin nodded.
"Give me your hand."
Jotaro lowered his gaze as Noriaki took it.
Without hesitating, he guided their joined hands beneath his shirt. Jotaro froze immediately, every muscle in his body tensing.
He took a deep breath.
The rough, scarred tissue stood out clearly beneath his fingertips. His first instinct was to pull away again, but Kakyoin didn't let him.
Fuck.
Touching him like before felt like tempting fate.
"Will you tell me what's going on?" Noriaki asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.
Jotaro traced the scar with his fingertips as if memorizing its shape.
His breathing grew more uneven, jaw tightening with every touch.
"I just... Don't want to hurt you," he managed after a moment, his gaze drifting away.
Kakyoin exhaled. Then cupped his face in both hands, forcing him to meet his eyes again.
"How exactly would you do that?" he asked, tilting his head. "Do I look like I'm in pain?"
"You almost died."
The words landed too heavily.
Kakyoin moved closer.
"Don't tell me you're blaming yourself for that."
"No..." Jotaro answered too quickly, automatically.
Then, after a moment,
"I don't know."
Noriaki's expression softened.
As if he had finally understood that all the distance and all the tension had never come from anything except fear.
"What happened wasn't your fault," he said, lowering his gaze. "But don't treat me like I'm already dead."
Jotaro's breath caught in his throat.
Kakyoin straightened a little.
"See?" He lifted his hands. "I'm not making you touch me anymore."
Only then did Jotaro realize Kakyoin had let go of his hand. He was deliberately dragging his fingers over his stomach now.
And then it clicked.
Annoying.
So unbelievably, maddeningly annoying were his own, pointless instincts. This all fucking time.
And yet the touch he had been holding himself back from for so long was the clearest proof that Kakyoin was still here.
He hadn't fallen apart.
So Jotaro's hands moved further, tightening around his waist.
Pulling Kakyoin into a close, warm hold.
And suddenly, all the words he hadn't been able to piece together before finally found their place.
"It's just not fair..." he exhaled. "I came out of this fine, and you had to go through fucking hell."
Kakyoin leaned back out of the embrace. But instead of looking irritated, he was smiling.
"Idiot," he scoffed, resting his forehead against Jotaro's temple. "Maybe I lost a bit of muscle, and maybe hospital food still haunts my dreams..."
He paused, searching for right words.
"But I gained something i love because of it."
Jotaro's heart kicked faster. He pulled him closer.
"Yeah..." he said quietly. "Me too."
Kakyoin smiled, brushing his nose against Jotaro's cheek.
"Then...Don't mourn me while I'm right here."
Jotaro buried his face in the hollow of his neck.
Not letting go.
Only tightening his hold.
This time, the words came out clearly, without hesitation:
"I've missed you."
And maybe
Kakyoin was like porcelain,
poorly pieced back together.
But with time, even the traces of glue
would become part of what he was made of.