Chapter Text
The sea that night was as flat as glass. As far out into the horizon as it stretched, the placid waters shimmered with the reflection of the moon high above, unobstructed by the few wispy clouds that drifted low on the skyline. Its form spilled upon the still water, wavering in in a gentle line of light.
While the ocean waited below, a myriad of stars populated the night sky. So far was the coast from the all-night glow of a city or even a town that the sky stole all emphasis on colour and light for itself. It was a night so still that it gave the illusion that nobody in the world was awake to see it.
This was the view from the end of the pier- the endless sky and the sea.
Built many decades before, it was a small pier that had stood the test of time and weather. Worn by salt-spray and wind, the wood was smooth to the touch in places. It's length stretched out over shingle and stone then eventually over the dip of the land and the slow waves. There were little stalls with boarded up windows that had once been open during the summer- the signs were faded in the sun, nearly unreadable prices for ice-creams and drinks. It was almost a shame to see; the place would have been nice to visit, a long time ago. Now it was almost entirely deserted save for the bench at the very end of the pier and the coat-donned figure rested upon it.
The person was so very still that he seemed almost to be a part of the pier itself, his dark coat made silver by the illumination of the moon.
Jotaro Kujo exhaled slowly. The cloud of smoke he'd been holding as he breathed dissipated into the still night air and eventually reduced to nothing at all. The watch at his wrist said two minutes to one. Not long now. Kakyoin was never late- he'd never been late before and if anything would annoy the man more than lack of manners, surely it would be bad time management. Kakyoin was a stickler for manners. Jotaro’s heavy brows lowered as he glanced away from his watch and back out to sea.
As if on cue, even footfalls sounded quietly against the wood.
“Here I was, thinking you were gonna be late.”
“Well- I don't like to disappoint, do I?”
“Course you don't.”
He glanced over his shoulder, finally casting his eyes away from the sea. And there he was- Noriaki Kakyoin, in the flesh and cold blood.
Slender fingers tipped by tapered nails lingered at the hood of the dark coat, pulling it down to reveal himself to the other. Underneath, ringlets of bright hair curled about his cheeks and his forehead, framing a face of pale skin. His lips were long but not unattractively- somehow, it suited him while it might appear comical on somebody else. His nose- a sharp bridge- suited him too. He was beautiful, if Jotaro had ever been the kind to have an eye for that sort of thing.
He'd gained jagged scars over his eyes back in Egypt from that fight in the desert. That had changed since then too- now, there wasn't a trace of the damage done to his eyes. When the hood settled around his shoulders, he smiled.
Two sharpened canines framed the rest of his teeth.
There was always something subdued about the way he held himself- a kind of dignity, lacking the outright overconfidence of somebody used to loud confrontation.
He walked with too much grace for a human now- like some section of his brain instinctively felt how gravity itself moved and stepped along with it, never a fraction off balance.
“May I?” He gestured to the bench.
Jotaro grunted and shrugged, lying back against the rest. It was nigh impossible to tell that under his low brows and flat expression that there was an unmistakeable feeling of relief that for another month, Kakyoin had returned like he’d promised. Jotaro wouldn’t have liked to admit to himself that the thought did prey on him- the idea that wherever Kakyoin went between the times they met- that eventually, there would come a month where Jotaro was left alone at the pier, waiting for somebody who wouldn’t be able to come back.
“Schroedinger's fucking frog, that's what you are.” Jotaro said eventually.
“How so?”
“The foundation think you're out there. Officially you're dead. I know you're not.”
“So- unless I'm directly talking to you,” he figured. “I'm both dead and alive.” He smiled a little out into the horizon, followed by a gentle laugh. Perhaps it was the way Jotaro struggled to read other's expressions, but he couldn't help but feel the redhead's smile looked a little tired. Thinking of it, while simultaneously alive and dead was funny from one perspective, from another it felt jarringly accurate to describe the man's current ‘condition’.
From there, they finally fell into the lull of familiar conversation- how Holly was, how Jotaro’s studies were going (not as well as they could have been due to lack of attendance, Kakyoin picked up on with a regretful sigh), how the cats in Kakyoin’s old neighbourhood were doing- how Kakyoin’s parents were doing now, guessed from the single time he’d seen them in town and the times Holly had called them. She’d started to do that more often, Jotaro noted- though when prompted to give more details he only shrugged and muttered lowly; “As if I know the damn people.”
Upon seeing the slight downcast look that comment gave to Kakyoin’s features, he tugged at his cap and looked away. “Don’t know much- just that she tries to chat to them. You know the woman- she’ll try and be friendly with any fucking weirdo.”
“Your mother is a lovely woman- she was so kind to me even though she barely knew me.”
“Like I said- any fucking weirdo.”
“Oh, how rude.” There was a note of amusement in his voice. Jotaro nearly felt embarrassed at himself at how glad he was to see the hurt frown briefly disappear. “But really, Jojo- is that working?”
“Your mother hates us.”
“I thought as much.”
“Yeah.”
It was only to be expected that a mother would hate the family she viewed as responsible for killing her only son. Would Holly not hate the Kakyoins, had they taken Jotaro without a word to a foreign country only for him to never return home?
The subject felt too understood between them and too difficult to go into.
“You- you wanna hear about the video games you’ve missed?”
Kakyoin shook the faraway look from his eyes. “Yes please. That’d be nice.”
Talk of a life of normality always seemed to placate Kakyoin, like being told about it was the last link he had. He’d sit back and listen intently to each miniscule detail of how a peaceful life in a town was going or about a new video-game he wouldn’t be able to play. Jotaro, a notoriously bad speaker, found himself during each month looking for new things to tell Kakyoin. A new shop opening in the town they’d both briefly lived or a new game being advertised was a mental note for Jotaro to take- remember to tell Noriaki about this, he’ll want to hear it.
Something in Jotaro’s chest felt almost tight at the smile on the other’s lips as he searched for topics for the two of them to talk about. Luckily, once something was there to discuss, Kakyoin was so much better than he at forming conversation ideas. It was easy to talk to Kakyoin- he carried the topics on and it didn’t drain Jotaro like most people did almost instantly. His smile and soft-spoken voice didn’t light his life but they put him at a peace he rarely found in other people. They’d spend hours like it-all the way up until dawn.
It was too easy to forget that Kakyoin wasn’t the human who’d gone to Egypt- it was only the glimmer of his fangs between words that reminded Jotaro of that.
They were just getting to the end of a nearly pointless talk about a new shop that had opened near Kakyoin’s old house when he spoke without thinking.
“If you want to see the new 7-Eleven, you could come. If you wanted.” Jotaro said on whim. “It’s open all night.”
The resulting sound of gentle, calm laughter brought an embarrassed expression to his face, ready to be hidden behind his hat.
“Oh, I couldn’t- somebody would see me.”
“It was a stupid idea, forget it.”
“No, no- I’m just saying that it would be morning. Where would I go?”
“You could just stay.”
His laughter trailed off as softly as it came. “You know I can't, Jojo. It wouldn't be fair on you or anyone else.”
“It's not fair that your parents still leave flowers on your grave.”
A little taken aback, the redhead’s lips pursed. There was a minute shift in posture from him, a surprised movement back. Perhaps a younger Kakyoin would have had some kind of retort to that- but instead of replying, he closed his eyes slowly and listened with enhanced senses to the water below, lapping gently at the wooden frets under the pier.
“Perhaps not. But it would be more unfair for them to know where I am. Coming to see them- that would be selfish of me.”
“Kakyoin, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know you didn’t. But I’m just telling you that it would be selfish of me to come back now. They have closure.”
“Selfish-- Noriaki, you’re the least selfish person I know.” He expected Kakyoin to know what he meant by that- that nobody willing to die in a fight against a vampire could be classed as selfish. He hoped that would be understood.
“...I’m being selfish right now. I don’t know what will happen to you if they find out you’ve known all this time and haven’t handed me over.”
Jotaro stayed silent.
Kakyoin felt his supposedly soulless heart tighten in his chest. “It’s not fair on you, Jotaro- I know you’re not some emotionless bastard. It’s the opposite- you’ve got to go around pretending I’m dead, pretending to my parents I’m dead, pretending to Jean I’m dead- and I shouldn’t put you through that. You have months to just wait and count dates and wonder if I’m going to make it back.”
“It’s alright.” He shrugged.
“It’s- it’s not though, is it? One day, Jojo- the foundation will catch me. And you know what they’ll do to me after that.”
Jotaro lit his last cigarette behind his palm. The first drag came slow and steady, followed by a long exhale of smoke. The place was so still and silent save for the water that it seemed almost as if no time was passing at all. Even the clouds seem to barely have moved.
There was another element to it all too. Say the gnawing, unmoving, carnivorous need in every cell of Kakyoin’s traitorous body could not longer be sated- what would he do if Jotaro was there? The risk- it was just too high. His scent carried on the air, warm with the pulse of rich blood in his veins.
Kakyoin tried not to linger on who's filthy blood was filling his own veins now- who, dead and gone, would be laughing his way from the bottom of hell at how his legacy lived on after his death. He sometimes felt the hunger pangs were two pairs of clawed alabaster palms, pressing and kneading at his abdomen whilst he tried to sleep.
Jotaro finished his cigarette.
“S' nice out tonight.”
“Yes.” He sighed. “I suppose it is.”
It was easy to rest with Jotaro like that- he was the kind of person to enjoy silence, just like Kakyoin. Even on the trip, their hotel rooms quickly become a place of quiet after the hectic nature of each day- that, and the muted conversation of two people who’d never had close friends trying to work out how to speak. That came only when they weren’t bickering, however- Kakyoin would have to look through rose-tinted glasses to pretend that they hadn’t had their fair shares of arguments over the most trivial subjects.
From far away, the waves rolled against the stones of the beach.
“Oh- wait. I nearly forgot.” Said Jotaro. “Got something for you.”
The redhead watched with interest as Jotaro fished inside his gakuran pocket.
“I don't know if you've got anything to play it on, but.” The plastic case was wiped of the slight pocket lint that resided there and roughly placed into Kakyoin's open palm. He couldn't help but notice the temperature difference between them now- his hands were warm and rough, Kakyoin's slender and cold.
“I can't go into that shop again in case they think I actually listen to this shit.”
The response wasn't immediate, as if Kakyoin didn't quite know what to make of it all. His features fell slack as he turned the flat object over in his arms, looking at both the sides.
“It's fucking stupid, I know- if you don't want it, I can just take it back.”
“No, no- no. Don't do that.” He drew it a little closer to his chest, features softening into something that wasn't quite a smile but didn't fall far from it. “You brought me a Sting album.”
It fell almost unreal to Kakyoin that people could misunderstand Jotaro. After so long knowing him it was like reading a book- the slight dip of his head, the way he tugged at the rim of his cap to reposition it over his eyes. Jotaro cleared his throat and looked away.
“Good grief.”
“Thank-you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Kakyoin gave the cover another long look before slipping it into his pocket between the folds of his coat. “I really appreciate it.”
“I,” If jotaro could look further away from the other, he did. It was not just the bench but the sky itself that he looked at, gazing up towards the expanse of the stars. “I got used to you being around- Kakyoin. But now nobody knows you’re even alive- only me. And I’m used to you being there in the room nagging about stupid shit. Like to stop leaving socks on the floor or whatever. Or to stop eating all the bread for the day. Or just being a know-it-all bastard about ancient tea-making practices from Singapore or whatever the fuck. I’m not doing this right, Noriaki, I-”
Jotaro breathed deeply and forced his eyes up. “...I just miss you.”
For once, Kakyoin didn’t know what to say either. He just looked on through, his expression flat and tender with something that could have been anything at all.
“You could come to my house. Just a night.”
“I can't…”
Jotaro had an amazing ability to act as if nothing bothered him at all- and it was failing him.
Kakyoin could have cried at the unfairness of it all- what he'd really given up fighting Dio wasn’t his life- he’d barely had that to start with, he’d be aimless almost his entire existence- but the people he’d finally met after a life of nothing at all.
And what he was doing to keep his final links with humanity was just cruel as far as he could see. It was Jotaro who every month would come in the dead of night to meet a friend too dangerous to keep and whom he couldn’t see for longer than that.
Stolen kisses away from prying eyes- it was a relationship that had been stolen from the two of them before it was even allowed to happen.
But Jotaro nodded. “S’alright. It’s nearly dawn anyway. Didn’t think you’d say yes.”
(“If we get out of this alive- if we go back to Japan- I'm not promising anything and I'm not saying anything-”
“We should see each-other again.”
“Mmhm.”
“Yes?”
“Yeah.”)
Jotaro thought he was unreadable , some stoic figure that felt nothing at all. Kakyoin could read him like a book, the type with illustrations of animals and small words in a big font. He could see each hesitation, each fall of his expression as he was inevitably left alone on their pier.
It wasn’t fair. Nothing was fair.
“Wait. Jotaro.”
Jotaro paused. “Yeah?”
And suddenly, as if overcome with something even Kakyoin couldn’t place- he wanted to make a mistake. One huge, awful, selfish mistake.
“Jojo- just this once. I’ll- I’ll come.”
“Wh- you’re serious?” Jotaro's eyes widened.
“Yes. I'll come.” His eyes dilated and he all of a sudden didn’t know what to do with his hands other than clasp them together tightly.
“And you mean it?”
“We can listen to the album you got me or draw something, or- or we could do nothing. We can just stay in bed and watch Never Cry Wolf. It’ll be nice.”
“I- okay.”
Jotaro seemed a little stunned- perhaps disbelieving.
Kakyoin felt disbelieving too.
“If we leave now, we can get there before dawn.”
The taller man nodded. “Then you better stop saying sappy shit and get a move on before you burn up like bacon.” As easily as it had come, the look of wonderment on Jotaro’s face was gone and was replaced with his usual scowl. But it had been there, even if momentarily.
“Don’t you start telling me what to do, Jojo.”
“I’ll do what I like.”
“Oh?"
"Yeah. I will. And hurry it up- we don't have all night."
It was as scarily easy as that- Jotaro started walking, just fast enough to be in front but slow enough to wait for Kakyoin to follow. And Kakyoin- throwing guilt to the wind- did. Their footsteps sounded on the pier together, similar heels against the wooden boards.
A single night was all Kakyoin would allow himself- but already, the divide between what he'd selfishly allow himself was slipping.
But he followed.