Chapter Text
The last thing Noriaki Kakyoin consciously remembers is the pain in his stomach. Red hot and wet, he remembers bringing his hands to the damp middle of his abdomen and choking on a wet sob as he realizes his own gore is covering his fingers and he never told his parents where he was going. He never told there where he was. The thick heat of the Egyptian night swallows him whole and Kakyoin remembers seeing black, a lot of black. Now his eyes were opening once again, straining against his skull as he slowly peers at the sky. It’s white, grossly so. He wonders if he’s in heaven if he was maybe blessed enough to be granted an eternal afterlife above the clouds.
But the smell of disinfectant soon clogs his nostrils and the dull ache of needles shoved into his wrists snaps him out of his heavenly daydream. There’s nothing but the soft beeping of machinery around him, devices letting the nurses know that he hasn’t been granted the luxury of heaven just yet. He didn’t die properly. When he opens his mouth to breathe, it’s dry and tastes disgusting. He wonders how long it’s been. So instead he rolls to his side, mindful of the needles in his skin and stares at the soft blue of the wall in front of him. They always paint hospitals in pastel hues and whites, colours that didn’t clog the spaces of memory too badly and hurt the eyes when they’re first opened. Kakyoin’s eyes hurt a lot.
A soft snore from across the room causes Kakyoin to jump nearly out of his skin, he yanks himself upward and all but cries at the feeling of the needles pulling free from his skin. His abdomen contracts and he hisses as he brings his palms to the heavily bandaged middle of his body. He half expects to see the dark, sticky gore from before and is hesitant to even look at his hands again. Alarms blare around him, the little machines desperately trying to alert the nurses that something was wrong.
Something was wrong.
Across the room Jotaro slept soundly with his head tipped back and his arms folded across his stomach. He was peaceful and quiet, and he was there. Jotaro was there.
Jotaro was there.
“Jo…Jo?” Kakyoin manages to croak in an embarrassingly desperate voice. Instinctively his hands are reaching towards his best friend, the human tower of muscle and pure power. His best friend. Jotaro was there.
Jotaro wakes slowly at the sound of the alarms and Kakyoin calling out to him. When he breaks out of his slumber, he stares at the redhead holding his arms out to him, his eyes are wet and scared. The alarms are so fucking loud.
“Noriaki!” His eyes widen when it sinks in that Kakyoin is awake, he’s awake and alive and staring at him with the eyes of somebody that had just nearly died. Jotaro rushes over, nearly jumping from his chair and knocking the object over as he makes his way to his best friends’ bedside. He takes Kakyoin’s hands in his own, ignoring his distaste for physical contact just this once because Kakyoin was alive. Kakyoin woke up.
Before the two can speak properly two young nurses enter the rooms with clipboards. They carry annoyed looks on their faces, like dealing with Kakyoin was the last thing they wanted to do today. They give the redhead trouble as they hook the needles back up to his arms, they apologize when he hisses at the feeling of his skin being punctured once again and Kakyoin in exchange apologizes for the inconvenience he had put the women through. Jotaro watches the two women swoon at Kakyoin’s good manners and the sinking realization that Kakyoin is alive and well sets in completely. Everything was going to be okay. The nurses leave talking between one another, they’re talking about the handsome man in the hospital bed most likely. Jotaro hides his smile by pulling his hat down to obscure his features.
When the door closes softly, Kakyoin’s soft hand is placed on Jotaro’s arm. He wants answers, Jotaro thinks. And so, he looks at Kakyoin with all of the softness he can muster and smiles at the man before him. Kakyoin isn’t looking at him though, his eyes are focused elsewhere as he takes in his surroundings, his situation, the heavy bandage holding him together. “What happened?” He asks quietly.
Jotaro explains it all. When he doesn’t spare the gruesome details of their trip to Egypt and their journey, he watches Kakyoin’s eyes mist over with tears the smaller man had never shown him. He squeezes Kakyoin’s hand at the mentions of Iggy and Avdol, he lets him catch his breath before he explains that night. Kakyoin was dead, there was no doubt about that fact. But when they found his body there was something left, the slightest bit of life and soul that they could use to bring him back. The Speedwagon Foundation worked as hard as they could, they did everything they could and when Joseph and Jotaro got the call shortly after DIO’s demise, both men would be lying if they said they didn’t cry. He tells the story of DIO’s fall, how Kakyoin helped them kill DIO by realizing what The World was capable of, he thanks Kakyoin from the bottom of his heart.
The redhead stares straight ahead, his hand grasped tightly in Jotaro’s. Thick tears stream down his face but neither men mention it. Their friends were dead, their enemy was dead, and Egypt was in the past. But the pain that shoots through Kakyoin’s middle is still present, the pain that follows the retelling of their adventures is in the present. The events may be in the past but Kakyoin thinks maybe this feeling in his heart hurts more than the wounds in his middle.
The question that plagues his mind at this moment in time is why? Why did he deserve to live over his friends? Why wasn’t he given the death he deserved at that moment in time? He didn’t help Jotaro takedown DIO and yet this man is thanking him from the bottom of his heart for something he didn’t do. He thinks of Avdol’s strength and resolves, he thinks of how the older man would have been more fitting to be in his position right now. It didn’t seem right. This didn’t seem right. Jotaro releases his hand and brings his big hands to cup Kakyoin’s face with a gentleness he didn’t know the man could produce. He’s staring at Kakyoin with his bright blue eyes, he’s looking for something in his stare and Kakyoin doesn’t think he’s capable of giving it to him.
“The fact you’re alive…” Jotaro says just loud enough for Kakyoin to hear, his voice is soft too. “The fact you’re alive means so much to me Noriaki.” He finishes his sentence and stares into his eyes once again.
The constricting in his chest makes Kakyoin want to pull away from his friend, but instead, he closes his eyes and lets a fresh round of tears stain his face. It’s wet and uncomfortable, but Jotaro is holding him in place, he’s letting the reality of it all sink in for him and Kakyoin is thankful in the moment. When he opens his eyes again, Jotaro is still looking at him and Kakyoin offers him the weakest smile he can muster. “I am… Happy to be alive, Jotaro.” He whispers to his friend.
He isn’t surprised when Jotaro closes the distance between their lips. He isn’t surprised in the least and easily reciprocates the eager kiss against his lips. But when Jotaro pulls away from Kakyoin and his hands fall from his face, his skin is blushed in a gentle pink Kakyoin has never seen and it causes his chest to constrict once again. His mind is back to Egypt, Avdol, Iggy, and what should have been his death. He stares at Jotaro, his best friend could have died too. The fact he was alive at that moment didn’t mean anything to him because when Kakyoin closes his eyes he sees the same gaping, wet wound in Jotaro’s middle and he pulls away from his friend with disgust.
“I can’t do this,” he says weakly. Jotaro gives him his space. Why was he being such a good friend right now? Why couldn’t he be bad just this once? “I… I don’t think we should talk anymore Jotaro… This is too much… this was too much.” He’s choking on his own tears, but he stares up at his friend, his resolve is concrete. “I can’t be friends with you anymore. Please leave.”
-
They go through their senior year together. They end up in the same class but Jotaro sits at the back in his brooding silence and Kakyoin sits in the front, attentive and proper like he had always been. He doesn’t mention the way Jotaro stares at him in the halls, like there are words between them left unsaid, forever suspended in the gaps of time between them. Jotaro makes new friends, and Kakyoin makes his own as well. Despite being so close together the two don’t speak. Jotaro follows Kakyoin’s wishes so well.
Graduation is uneventful. Kakyoin nearly sobs when he ignores Holly’s request to take a picture of the boys together, he swallows so much emotion as he steels his gaze and walks forward, it was better this way. Because the thought of Jotaro’s dead body plagues his mind too often, Kakyoin finds himself jolted awake in the middle of the night by the phantom brushes of soft lips against his own and wet blood covering his hands. His parents suggest therapy somewhere in the middle of the year when Kakyoin wakes himself up with his own broken sobs in the middle of the night, he happily accepts their offer.
Jotaro graduates with honours. Something Kakyoin is thankful and happy for. The two men had fought for the top spot of the grade the entire year, sometimes Jotaro would do slightly better on a test and sometimes Kakyoin would do better. It was their only communication, standing silently side by side as they look at the class grades. Kakyoin smiling to himself when Jotaro got the top grade, and Jotaro resisting the urge to kiss his friends’ lips when he did better. It was silent and peaceful but neither men took it any further. Even now at graduation when they accept their diplomas and thank their classmates one by one, they skip past each other with a fluidity and ease that no one else notices. Both men did not exist in the others life and they honoured that.
Kakyoin attends an art university in Tokyo. His art consists of vibrant colours and splashes of red, he’s praised for his abstract style and raw intensity behind his paintbrush. He doesn’t know what happens to Jotaro in the years they’re apart. Sometimes when he visits home, he runs into Holly at a grocery store and will offer to help her carry the bags of groceries home. She doesn’t argue with him, and she often comments on how she misses Kakyoin’s presence in Jotaro’s life. He resists the urge to question what had happened to Jotaro, resists the urge to insert himself into the life that he so rudely removed himself from. But she doesn’t mention anything bad, which gives Kakyoin the relief that at least his friend is okay.
-
Nine years quickly become ten, and Jotaro feels older than ever. He’s pulling at the skin on his face, stretching the faint worry lines taut as he stares at himself in the mirror. His ring finger is bare again, he’s back in Tokyo and he’s not sure whose life he is living at this moment in time. He had come home from his trip to Japan that had lasted all too long, and he knew it lasted too long. He barely called her, he missed Jolyne’s birthday. He came home to a house illuminated by a single light in the dining room, she had pulled away from his kiss that night and silently requested him to sit across from her at the table. The plea was so quiet and desperate. Words uttered into a quiet space between them that hit him so familiarly.
“I want out,” she had told him.
Maybe she had expected Jotaro to fight for their marriage. Maybe she thought somewhere deep down that he would fight for Jolyne, for the love they had apparently shared between one another. But if he had fought for the things in his life that he loved he would have had Kakyoin, and he wouldn’t have been alone, to begin with. So, he doesn’t fight, just like before he nods solemnly and assures his wife that he understands her emotions, he packs what he needs and leaves without a goodbye to Jolyne. He thinks if his wife wanted him to fight, she also wanted him to stay. But as he’s brought to an airport in the middle of the night, he doesn’t find himself sad, just numb. He blames Kakyoin.
-
“Kujo-san!” Mrs. Honda nearly shouts as she hugs his arm. She’s his senior, a pretty woman in her early forties, but she treats him as someone on the same level as her. Someone her age, a friend. He doesn’t complain, her friendship is nonconditional and she doesn’t ask for much more than a shared lunch every once in a while. Plus, she’s a hard worker and has a good sense of humour, the smaller woman is one of the only people he enjoys spending time with. “I have extra tickets to an art gallery in Tokyo tonight!” She excitedly tells him. “I heard you’re taking me on a date.”
Jotaro laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t date.” He tells her. It wasn’t the first time he has told her this, he’s said it quite a few times in the short span of their relationship. But did she ever listen? Never.
“It’s just a friend date,” she pouts. “Besides Kujo-san, you never leave your apartment. I’m scared you’ll be alone forever.”
“Maybe that’s what I want, have you thought of that?”
Mrs. Honda laughs and hugs his arm tighter. “Please, just this once?” She pleads. “It’ll be a nice evening of art and other likeminded folks! Besides I heard there’ll be a certain artist there that has been taking Tokyo by storm, he’s quite the looker I’ve heard.”
-
, In the end, Jotaro ends up agreeing. And now he’s pulling at his wrinkles in the mirror of his bathroom, a pressed white suit with gold accents and a navy-blue button-down shirt hugging his chest. His hat is gone, abandoned for a sticky gel casually run through his naturally messy hair. When his cellphone chimes with a call from his driver he makes his way down to the streets and climbs into a taxi waiting to take him to the venue. The things he does for his friends.
The first thing Jotaro realizes is that he hates artists and people at associate with artists. Stuck up and pretentious, they sip champagne and comment lazily on technique Jotaro can’t see in the strokes of the paintbrushes. All the art looks the same to him, muted colours, plants, love, scenery. It’s all the same. It isn’t until him and Mrs. Honda are strolling down a hallway not overpopulated with art freaks that he sees a painting that strikes out at him.
Golden yellows, deep emeralds and splashes of red are so beautifully splattered on the canvas that Jotaro can’t pull himself away. The colours have no meaning, they’re smudged and mixed together like the artist had poured them onto the canvas and left it like that. But the emotion he felt. He couldn’t describe it. Gold swirled like the hot desert sand he vividly remembered on his feet and hands, emeralds as deep and passionate as the emeralds his best friend had created that night, and the red. Crimson and raw, the same colour that had stained his skin in his dreams for so many years.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Mrs. Honda asks him quietly; she’s hugging his arm again.
Jotaro nods, he can’t take his eyes off the beauty of the canvas.
“Tenmei-sama painted that one,” she says happily, obviously proud of her artistic knowledge. “I think that one is called The World, it was one of his first paintings. They’re all named after the Tarot, they’re all so deep and personal.”
When Jotaro doesn’t respond Mrs. Honda pulls his arm roughly, dragging him away from the canvas. “If we hurry, we can meet Tenmei-sama!” She tells him excitedly. “He’s scheduled to make an appearance tonight.”
She brings him to a clearing in the middle of the gallery, obviously designated for whoever Tenmei was. A special guest at an art gallery didn’t seem like a big deal. Jotaro didn’t know why Mrs. Honda was making such a big deal out of the artist's appearance. But he follows his friend and co-worker silently into the clearing, he stays by her side as she makes pretentious conversation with the other gallery occupants, he nods and offers his opinion when she politely asks. He may not have liked or understood what they were talking about, but it made Mrs. Honda happy to be here and he wasn’t going to ruin his friend’s happiness with his sour attitude towards art.
The room falls silent as a man enters. Jotaro’s eyes widen when a familiar shape approaches the middle. He wants to run; he wants to get the fuck out of the gallery while he still can. But he can’t explain it to Mrs. Honda, and he can’t do it without drawing attention to himself, so he swallows thickly and stares straight ahead. He’s older, Jotaro knew that it was going to happen eventually. But the seventeen-year-old he knew so well was older, his red hair was long and tied into a ponytail hanging over his left shoulder. He wore an expensive suit with fancy gold decorations and a thick gold chain hung around his neck. He wore brand sunglasses, surely hiding the scars that covered his eyes and he walked with confidence and freedom that stopped the room in its tracks.
He makes pleasant conversation with the people in the room, and Mrs. Honda excitedly hugs Jotaro’s arm as he approaches the pair, effectively locking him in place. Tenmei is beautiful, Jotaro tries so hard to look at the ceiling, or the floor or even Mrs. Honda, but when the man is standing there in front of him, he’s speechless, all he wants to do is reach forward and kiss his friend. Ten years was too long between them.
“Kujo-san!” Tenmei claps his hands together happily and smiles at the taller man, “It’s been too long.”
Mrs. Honda nearly faints. “You know him?!” She demands, tugging on his arm annoyingly. Jotaro pulls his arm out of her grasp which causes her to pout. “You never told me!”
“I didn’t know that I knew him.” Jotaro says bitterly, he’s staring at Tenmei.
He ignores him completely. Turning to Mrs. Honda, “We were friends in high school for a short while. I never knew he was married to such a pretty woman,” Tenmei coos at Mrs. Honda and Jotaro thinks he’s going to be sick for more than one reason.
She blushes and covers her face with her hands. “To Kujo-san? Never!” She’s absolutely beaming at the thought, and Jotaro realizes that Noriaki knows exactly what he’s doing. “Mr. Kujo doesn’t date, he’s made that clear! Has he always been like that?”
Tenmei laughs, it’s softer than before and so beautiful. Jotaro swallows again. “I can’t remember him ever being in a relationship. Rumour was he had never kissed a girl.” He lowers his glasses at the comment and stares at Jotaro, the words hang in the space between them. But you’ve kissed a man, haven’t you Jotaro?
“Why don’t we go for a smoke Kujo-san?” Tenmei offers with a smile, “It would be nice to catch up. Don’t you think?”