Chapter Text
Polnareff laid on the ground, his blood oozing out of him at an alarming pace.
He deserved this, didn't he? To feel the same pain that Cherie did. To feel his blood rush out of his veins as if his own body parts wanted to get away from him. Frankly, he wanted to get away from himself as well. He was ashamed and guilty. His limbs were heavy despite how much blood he was losing that must've been making him lighter. He didn't want to get up.
He deserved this.
He thought that wishing his sister back to life would've fixed him. That he would be happy to have her back, and that's how he would've improved as a person.
Now, he realized that it would fix him.
Because he would be dead, and death would fix him beyond comparison. He would be perfect, lying in a grave. Breathless, his heart beat silent and his skin rotting away.
He remembered the days when Cherie was smaller: how he would toss her around in the air while she kept begging for him to keep going, to keep making her twirl in the sky, and how it made her grin as if the heavens had opened up specially for her.
But now she was grinning for another reason. Polnareff had often called Cherie short, specifically a 'little ankle biter' (or 'petite rongeuse de chevilles' in his native tongue), but she had now developed into a knee gnawer.
Her unnaturally sharp teeth tore through Polnareff's skin and flesh, her lips bloodstained by him and her grin wide with unfed desperation. Polnareff had wished everyday to see her face at least one more time: now he wasn't sure if he wanted to. This would haunt him forever: her mocking words would follow him in his dreams and fuel his nightmares.
But he would be dead, so he didn't really have to worry about things like that.
"Polnareff…" She had grumbled earlier before attacking him, "You would always do anything for me! Can you do that now, too? Would you let me eat you just so that I could be normal again?" And then she pounced on him like a feral animal and tore his right calf into shreds with her claws and fangs.
He was struggling to resist her, desperate to let himself free. Where were the others, dammit?! He had found that weird Stand that had appeared from a strange genie bottle at least an hour ago and the other hour he was chasing after Cherie, desperate to see her face. It must've been at least a few dozen minutes now that he was fighting his little sister. They must be worried about him, right?! He would've really appreciated some help!
He didn't want to call Silver Chariot on her and, frankly, he was too alarmed to even think about that.
"Cherie, stop! Go away!" He cried, absolutely destroyed that he would ever utter those words to his sister. He limped away and ran as fast as he could with his kneecap nearly bitten through. He kept glancing back to see if she was catching up to him but the tall grass was too dense for her short, crawling form to be discerned amongst the greenery.
He suddenly crashed into something, and he turned to see the Stand that had cursed him with this zombie-like version of his sister. Its strange, metallic form looked over him and grabbed his shoulders to keep him from moving.
"Take her away!" Polnareff begged, pushing away from the Stand that was represented by the Judgement card. "Please, let her rest!"
The Stand laughed.
"You wished for this, Jean-Pierre Polnareff! I cannot take back what you wished for, what YOU created! Plus, you've already used up all three wishes. I can even grant the subconscious ones, but you mentioned the last one quite desperately." The Stand eyed Polnareff slyly. "I'll be nice: I've already granted your third wish. I tried to make this one less violent, per-say."
"What?!" Polnareff gasped. Then, his mind jumped to what he had yelled to the Stand earlier: that he wanted Avdol back. The Stand must've been lying, it wouldn't have tried to make its dirt dolls less violent! He couldn't handle a violent puppet of his sister, one of the only people he loved most, but now…
Why did he wish for that? God, Polnareff was a fool!
The Stand would've smiled at him if it had teeth. Then, it spun him around to face Cherie, who was nowhere to be seen. Then, when Polnareff turned around to yell at the Stand, it disappeared in a puff of purple smoke. Shit!
Polnareff felt a few tears fall down his face in fear and despair. He trembled, adrenaline surging through his weary body.
Then, a cold voice called behind him.
"It's all your fault." Polnareff didn't have to turn around to realize who it was, but he still did. A handsome face glared at him, one of his eyes pink and swollen with infection. His brown, scarred skin looked dirtier and more rich in earthy colors than usual. His clothes were muddied and his hair was messy.
Despite all that, Polnareff still felt himself tense in awe.
Avdol. His friend.
The one he damned to die with his friendship.
"I feel your guilt eating you up." He continued, slowly making his way to the white-haired man. "But I'd prefer if something else was eating you." Polnareff's heart stopped at how he said those words, feeling himself redden. Then, he realized that Avdol meant it literally.
With a growl, Avdol launched himself after Polnareff, who was already racing away from his old friend.
"I'm sorry, Avdol! Please!"
"No words can forgive what you've done. Was I worth it? My death just for a bit of vengeance? You disgust me." Polnareff threw himself into a patch of tall grass and crawled away, hoping to keep this version of Avdol off his scent. He urged himself to be quiet. He forced his sobs away.
Polnareff hated how Avdol echoed his own depressing thoughts about his friend's death. The French man's hands were caked in dirt and blood. He heard Cherie giggling far off in the distance, then roaring in fury. He would deal with her later.
A cold, heavy body slammed into him from the side and they rolled in the grass, flattening it with their combined weight. Avdol panted silently above Polnareff, clawing at the French man's shoulders.
"You are immature, naive and foolish. Did you ever think that I would forgive you for killing me? Did you think that bringing me back to life would make up for how you destroyed me? For how you abandoned me?" Avdol scoffed and trailed his claws over Polnareff's skin leisurely. Then, he stabbed a finger into Polnareff's chest, who yelped in pain.
"Avdol, please-!" Polnareff begged, struggling to push Avdol off him. Somehow, he'd gotten stronger, not even fazed by Polnareff's twitching.
"Be quiet. I do not want to hear your underthought apologies." Avdol tipped Polnareff's chin up, scratching him softly until a small trickle of blood fell down his neck. "Did you truly believe that I would come back to life and not despise you?"
Polnareff's throat was tight with pain. "I just wanted you back, Avdol!" He cried out, clinging onto yet pushing Avdol simultaneously.
"And what? Did you think that I would say something? That something would… develop between us?" Avdol scoffed. "I know what you want, Polnareff. I know what words you want to tell me. You should be ashamed of yourself for thinking like that about your friend." Avdol leaned in close to Polnareff's ear. "About another man." He snarled.
Then, burning pain clawed into Polnareff's collarbone, and Avdol was tearing at his flesh with animalistic growls of hunger.
"I'll enjoy doing this to you. Maybe you'll find a bit of pleasure in it as well, you desperate fool. Accept death as I did for you. That is all I ask of you." Avdol's voice softened at his last few words before he dug into Polnareff's flesh again.
The white-haired man thrashed under Avdol, pushing at his shoulders, but Avdol grabbed his hands and pinned them away from him with a single, powerful hand. Polnareff hated being this powerless in such a situation, but seeing Avdol like this made his heart jump in fear and an embarrassing attraction. He hated that he relished in seeing Avdol like this, even if he was eating his skin and planning on murdering him in cold blood.
Polnareff hadn't even realized that Cherie was now nibbling at his other leg because he was too hypnotized by Avdol above him.
Slowly, he stopped writhing in pain. There was no use, and he realized that he deserved this. He deserved it because he hadn't protected Cherie when she needed him, that he had let Avdol die in his place. He let himself lie still, accepting his fate.
At least he was being given death by the two people he loved most in the world, even if he wasn't supposed to love one of them the way he did.
He stared at Avdol and Cherie, trying to commit their faces to memory after missing them both for so long. Polnareff had gotten his revenge on his sister's killer and Avdol's too: now it was Avdol and Cherie's turn to get their justice on him.
It was all his fault.
He tried to push the burning of his skin away from his conscience, instead focusing on how beautiful Avdol looked, appreciating the angry glint in his eyes. He always looked beautiful when he was fighting. It was a blessing and a curse that the last thing he would see was his friend fighting HIM instead of someone else, the anger directed straight at Polnareff. He stared at Avdol for so long that he saw double of the man, one staring at him with worried, determined eyes while the other tore at his chest. Then, in a blink, the double disappeared.
Oh, God. Polnareff was hallucinating. Death was coming for him. He wasn't scared of the thought.
The man with the tall hair sighed and winced in pain. He struggled to get the words off his tongue.
"Cherie, I'm sorry. I'll love you forever, little sister." Polnareff hissed as she tore another wound into his leg. "And Avdol…"
His voice trailed off as he gazed up at Avdol, who pulled away to glare at Polnareff for a second. The Egyptian man sat on Polnareff's leg that was less bloody than the one Cherie was nibbling on, looming over him so that he could keep Polnareff's hands pinned above his head.
"Avdol, before I die, I…"
Polnareff was silenced by Avdol covering his mouth with his palm, glaring at him with angry eyes.
"Just perish already." He snapped before leaning down to Polnareff's chest again, his heart giving a few terrified leaps as Avdol resumed eating his skin and flesh off.
Avdol suddenly gave a few strangled sounds, pulling away from Polnareff, releasing his grip on the French man's hands. Polnareff stared at him in shock, struggling to sit up to reach for him. No! He didn't want Avdol to leave, not again! He didn't care if he was being eaten by Avdol: as long as he was close to him, Pol didn't mind.
If Avdol stabbed him, Polnareff would inch further into the knife, at least to be closer to Avdol in his last moments.
God, he really was pathetic.
Avdol's neck snapped suddenly, and Polnareff was too dizzy to see who had snapped it. He fell back to lie down and noticed that his leg didn't burn as much anymore. Cherie was gone.
What was going on?
Soft yet calloused hands cradled his head, lifting him up into a strangely familiar embrace. A warm, cotton-like scent filled his bloody nostrils. It smelled exactly like Avdol. But his neck had just been snapped!
Polnareff had to use all his energy to open his eyes.
A stoic face greeted him, a familiar white bandana woven around the person's forehead. A small braid tickled Polnareff's cheek.
"Polnareff, you fool." A deep voice whispered to him.
"Nghh?" Polnareff groaned, all his limbs numb yet glowing with pain. He recovered after a few moments of deep breathing. Then, his eyes truly opened.
Avdol.
Avdol was holding him, one hand around his head and another over his wounded chest, putting pressure on one of the badder bites. His thick eyebrows were furrowed like usual, but there was a small, sly smile on his lips. Avdol didn't usually smile.
Avdol wasn't usually alive.
"Muhammad Avdol?!" Polnareff finally managed to yelp. He struggled to lift his hand, but when he did, Avdol took his wrist and put Pol's hand onto his chest to show that he was alive and not a dirt doll. His heartbeat was rushing, just like Polnareff's. A wide grin grew on his face.
"Yes, I am!" Avdol wasn't usually this loud. Was Polnareff in heaven, or something? Why was Avdol smiling so much?
Polnareff wasn't really sure of what happened next. He was too high off his own adrenaline and lack of blood to think properly. That, and Avdol was grinning like the beautiful man that he was. Polnareff was afraid that this apparently real Avdol was going to tear his flesh off like the dirt doll Avdol, but he was too busy busting out Magician's Red and beating the weird metal wish genies's ass.
After a while, Avdol leapt at Polnareff to push him out of the way of the Stand's fist. They fell into the grass and were so close that Polnareff expected Avdol to bite off his ear or something like his cannibal-zombie copycat. Avdol got off of Polnareff and stayed close to the ground. Polnareff was recovering from the blood loss but was still a bit shocked that Avdol was here. Next to him, touching him, keeping him safe. Fighting alongside him like before his death.
How was Avdol alive?
"The bullet simply grazed my forehead," Avdol suddenly said. Polnareff jumped when Avdol read his thoughts. If Avdol could hear that, then he knew that-
"What?" Polnareff gasped.
"You asked me how I'm not dead." Avdol whispered. Then, he sighed. "You're obviously affected by all that blood loss. Don't worry, I'll tend to your wounds later. Now, we must defeat this foe. Come on."
Oh. Polnareff must've spoken aloud by accident. He really hoped he wouldn't accidentally call Avdol 'handsome' or some other embarrassing compliment.
Next thing that Polnareff knew, they had discovered where the Stand user was hidden. The Stand had disappeared, weakened after Avdol snapped its metallic arm off.
Polnareff, past his dizziness, knew how to deal with this terrible person. He dripped some sand down the tube the Stand User was using to breathe, who was hidden underground, then a few ants, a few spiders, a match…
Then Avdol said something that shocked Polnareff beyond his mind.
"Hm, Polnareff?" He grinned at the other man with a devious grin. "I feel nature calling."
Polnareff stared at Avdol as if he was the smartest yet craziest man alive.
"Wow, you've really changed after that 'death'." He scoffed, then a small grin fell over his face.
And yes, they had a piss in the air tube. Avdol laughed heartily and Polnareff couldn't help but echo him, staring at the Egyptian man's lips as he guffawed happily. Polnareff was trying to keep his gaze strictly on Avdol's eyes, at worst his lips, as they relieved themselves while simultaneously torturing the Stand User that had probably fuelled Polnareff's nightmares for the next few months.
"Hey, fix your aim!" Avdol huffed at Polnareff, nudging him with his shoulder. Polnareff tried his best to do as he was told, still a bit lopsided because of his injuries.
After a few seconds, Avdol pulled out some hand sanitizer and washed his hands. Polnareff followed his lead quickly, a bit red because of what they'd just done together. He would've never imagined that Avdol, of all people, would've suggested such a thing.
After a few minutes, they defeated the Stand User easily (he had left the hole he had hidden in, covered in ants, spiders, and other things Polnareff did NOT want to mention) with the help of Magician's Red and Silver Chariot.
Polnareff finally felt his exhaustion hit him, and he stumbled on his feet as he followed Avdol out of the field of grass. He touched his wounds curiously but then refrained from continuing because of how much it burned.
"I've missed you." Polnareff suddenly blurted out. "Why…" His tone suddenly burst into anger. "Why didn't you tell me you were alive? Don't you know how guilty I feel, thinking that you died because of ME? Because of my stupid need for revenge? You could've mailed me! Fuck, you could have sent me a damn carrier pigeon, for all I care!"
When Avdol kept walking, Polnareff grabbed his wrist to turn him to face him.
"Why didn't you let me know that you were alive? That our last conversation together wasn't that fucking argument?!" Polnareff felt sick to the bone, barely holding himself up.
Avdol stared at Polnareff for a long moment. Then, he did something Polnareff never expected him to. He grabbed the white-haired man's hand and pulled Polnareff into a tight hug that was still soft enough so that the French man's wounds wouldn't hurt too much.
"I'm sorry, but you just can't keep a secret." Polnareff could hear the faint smile in Avdol's sweetly smooth voice. "I'll explain everything later when we see the others. They'll help you understand. Stay open-minded, alright?"
Polnareff's tongue felt heavy. "Uh, yes. Sure."
Polnareff blacked out for a split second, his vision going dark, and next thing he knew, he had fallen to the ground, gripping his head with a faint groan.
"Polnareff?" Avdol kneeled down next to him instantly, his knees cracking at the movement. "Let me help you walk. There are supplies in my temporary house…"
"No! We have to see the others first. They'll be so happy to see you!"
"About that…"