hierophany | Inbox

Oh.

[ It’s quiet. It’s solemn. And he wants to ask. But he mentioned Mr. Joestar earlier and Jotaro didn’t say anything. Surely if something had happened-

Mr. Joestar is okay. He’s probably okay. He isn’t going to ask any questions that would result in him potentially learning that it’s okay, because he’s learning that when it matters he’s a fucking coward even now. ]

I don’t mind. Really. If it hurts. It’s- ugh. You’re going to think it’s fucked up. You’re going to think I’m fucked up, you know.

Kakyoin.

[He doesn't want to get into what happened to Jiji, not because of that in and of itself, but because it happens after Kakyoin died. And that seems to be the rocky terrain, the acknowledgement that at some point along the timeline, Kakyoin just stopped, and everyone else didn't.

So he focuses on the other part instead. This one is more embarrassing, more subjecting himself to the mortifying ordeal of being known, but that doesn't matter. It's worth it.]

I don't mind it either. Sometimes...it feels good, that it hurts. I know I'm fucked up. But you're not. You're not, okay?

I don’t get off on getting hurt, Jotaro.

[ He laughs, but it’s not the stupid uncontrolled one. It’s not the polite rehearsed one, either. It’s the one reserved for those moments when someone mistakes Hierophant’s body for its true form and rushes into its web. For when they’re completely and utterly fucked and haven't realised it yet. Its cruel, and he’s not sure if it’s aimed at Jotaro or himself. Because of course that’s what Jotaro would assume being fucked up was. Because Jotaro’s understanding of fucked up has not been influenced by a lifetime inside the brain of Noriaki Kakyoin. ]

If you bite me, then there’s less of me. And there’s more of you. Some part of me stops being me and turns into someone else. Someone better. And it’s fucked up that I’d want that from anyone and it’s more fucked up that I’d want it from you and it’s not fair to drag you into it.

[A knot lodges in his throat, and Kakyoin's laughter feels like a slap in the face, but Jotaro manages not to let it show on his expression. He can't tell whether that's an accusation or not. If there's supposed to be an unlike you tacked on to the end of his name. It makes him wish he could stop time long enough to breathe, but Star is gone right now, and he couldn't bring himself to stop time around Kakyoin, anyway.

So his expression simply goes blank, from the way he's holding it rigid, and a non-thing shouldn't be a thing in and of itself, but maybe it says it all anyway.]

Why would you want there to be less of you?

Have you met me?

[ It's the polite laugh, this time. And he wants to say more. He could tell Jotaro that he's disgusting. That vile people have vile stands. That he's been stalking his boyfriend for the last week because he was bitter about being dead. That he's too selfish to be happy for any of them. That he can't even do being dead right. That there's a months long hole in his memory that he knows was filled with- fuck, he doesn't know what it was filled with. Blood, probably. Not his, probably. ]

I told you that you'd think it's fucked up.

I didn't say that.

[It's defensive, immediate. He doesn't like the way Kakyoin's laugh is changing; each one is like a new checkpoint along a path of regression back into his shell, and Jotaro hates it.]

I just don't understand. You're part of me whether I drink your blood or not. I...thought you knew that.

[ He opens his mouth. He opens his mouth to say that no, Jotaro didn't say that. But he thought it. Of course he thought it because who the fuck could not think that's fucked up? That any part of him isn't?

And then Jotaro says that. ]

...that's the cheesiest fucking thing you've ever said.

Shut up!

[There's no fresh blood to make his cheeks flush, but all the other reflexes are the same — the way he looks away, the way he yanks the brim of his hat down over his eyes. The way his lips press together, except that like an idiot he's not careful with his teeth and the edge of his fang slits his lip for about the nineteenth time today, and a thin line of red appears for a few seconds before closing over and disappearing again.]

You're the one who said it like that first, so —

That's not what I-

[ He catches himself. He doesn't need to convince Jotaro that he's awful. And Jotaro's just said the must stupid, sincere thing and- ]

-that can be what I meant.

...You didn't know.

[It's directed more at himself than at Kakyoin. His voice is quiet.]

So you. You don't want me to bite you, because really you want it too much. You want me to drink you dry because then there'll be...less of you left...?

Yeah.

[ He shouldn't have said anything. They could have just laughed and not had this happen and he could just stop making Jotaro's life difficult. ]

Like I said before. Dirt.

...Then what happens after you're used up?

[Does he even want to know the answer? Probably not. But he recognizes this cadence, even if the issue in and of itself is different. Of course this is familiar; this is self-loathing, and it fits all the right buzzwords, when he knows what he's looking for.

Not enough. Wrong. Ill-fitted. Cold.

...No, that last one is someone else, isn't it?]

You don't want that, do you...?

I don't know.

[ There's a logical answer, of course, but Jotaro won't want to hear it. And he doesn't want to give it any thought, because that makes this all seem a little more alarming than he already is. ]

You weren't going to do it anyway, this is all irrelevant. I just- didn't want you to think that the problem was you.

Oh.

[He knows the sound of a figurative book closing when he hears one. As soon as this is all irrelevant came out, that was essentially it; it's not going to do any good to press any further. He'll just have to remember, and think, and maybe sometime later he'll figure it out.

But that's fine. There's something else he wants an answer to, anyway.]

...So...you must think I'm fucked up too, though. Because of what I said. Right?

Not because of what you said. It's- I don't know. It seems normal enough. Pain is sensory information, the same as anything else. I just don't know a lot about it.

[ This should probably be 'no, you're not fucked up'. But Jotaro will know if he's lying, and he'll decide what it is he's lying about and he'll settle on the worst one. ]

But you are- kind of fucked up. Just- not that.

Nobody would understand it anyway.

[He says, under his breath, before shaking it off and locking back in on the admission that — well, it's not wrong, it's just. Sort of ugly to hear it in someone else's voice instead of just in his own head.

Funny. Isn't that what he wanted, months ago? Fr someone to look at him and confirm all the things he told himself. That it was his fault. That it was him. Just for someone to agree with his feelings.

So this is what he kept grasping for, really. Not just anyone. Kakyoin.]

If not that, then what?

I made you do it alone, didn’t I?

[ He doesn’t know it for sure. He wasn’t there, and something happened to Mr. Joestar. Polnareff was there, probably. About 90% of Polnareff was there.

But he said ‘I got the message’, not ‘we’. ]

You thought I hated you. Because someone else hurt me. That’s not an assumption a not-fucked-up person would make. You were alone, and you shouldn’t have been. And somehow that ended up in you thinking I hated you.

[And that's it. Just like that, his eyes are on the sofa cushions, because he can't make himself look at Kakyoin anymore.]

...Jiji. Jiji wasn't the one who — told me. What had happened to you.

[There is a limited pool of suspects he could've gotten that information from. So limited, in fact, that it's probably down to about one.]

What would it take? To make you hate me. What would I have to have done? What would I have to be?

[ He doesn’t know why he reaches out, why he knocks Jotaro’s hat aside slightly to rest his hand on the back of his head. It just makes sense, like he’s put something in the correct box. Like that’s just where that hand belongs and he’s tidying it away. ]

Someone else, I think. You’d have to be someone else.

[When did this become about him and not Kakyoin? He doesn't know. He does know that being half-vampire right now probably isn't helping anything; feeling everything so much and so strongly is just amplifying emotions that already have the power to consume him all on their own.

Moonlacing begins once they start to touch. The glow of it is faint, but it's warm. It feels like he'll get lost if it goes away, like that sensation is the distant beacon of a lighthouse in the midst of a midnight storm.]

I'd have to be him. You hate him, right?

[He breathes, slow. In and out.]

I can show you how I beat him. If you want to know.

Yeah. I hate him. More than I thought I did.

[ It was Dio who told him. Who found a way to turn him into a weapon to hurt Jotaro one last, disgusting time. He ought to be furious. He is furious. But Dio isn't here, and Jotaro is, and somehow the parts of his body between his brain and his hand have turned into a machine for turning anger into something with softer edges, so it starts off as something that could weld steel and ends as fingertips pressing lightly against Jotaro's scalp.

His voice is soft, even talking about Dio. It has been since he stopped discussing himself. ]

If you're going to tell me that you punched him, I had already guessed.

[A decision hangs on a narrow point, capable of tipping one way or another. He could say something here. There's something that he wants to. He wants to, and it's so, so tempting.

But the thing is, Kakyoin is smart. Smart enough to figure out what Dio's Stand did, all on his own. Smart enough to turn over every stone and pick apart every last detail, smart enough to take the whole cobbled-together clockwork apart and only put it back together again once he's figured out how it ticks.

And Jotaro knows that. Because he knows Kakyoin.]

You think I punched him?

[He presses his lips together, then parts them again. It buys him one second.

Sometimes one second makes all the difference.]

How could I have punched him when he could stop time?

[For anyone else, it would be a dry, rhetorical question. Anyone else would hear it, take away something sardonic, and walk away.

But later — not now, but later, he knows it, he's sure of it — Kakyoin will lie awake in the dark, turning it over and over and over again, and eventually he'll think, that's not the same as a no, and eventually he'll ask:

How did Jotaro beat him when he could stop time?]

I don’t know.

[ And it should be a big deal. He is, after all, profoundly uncomfortable with not knowing things. And it is- maybe a little big deal. Just a deal.

Slowly, he moves his hand. Combs his fingers through Jotaro’s hair. It just feels correct, somehow. ]

There’s a trick to it. There always is, with you. Something I missed. Probably something that’s going to be frustratingly obvious in hindsight. Part of the bigger picture that I missed while I was staring at the details. I’ll figure it out, sooner or later. But there would have been punching.

[Almost absently, he flexes the fingers of his right hand, watching the skin stretch and recede over his knuckles. Star isn't there. He's a vampire anyway, he heals every injury he incurs, like this.

He can still feel it, anyway. How it felt when the knuckles split.]

They have these...pods, here. Virtual reality, they call it.

[Jotaro, you're such an 80s kid.]

They can play back memories. So when you want to know, we'll go.

They do?

[ Okay so he was trying to have A Moment but Jotaro just casually informed him that the coolest she he could ever imagine exists and it feels like it would be physically agonising to take his hand from Jotaro’s hair and it would takehim a good two minutes to figure out how to fit through the door and he can’t wear a shirt right but damn if he doesn’t want to go find these cool things right this second.

And then the next part sinks in. ]

Why would you want that?

[ He can’t quite place the emotion in his own voice. One part cautious affection to three parts concern, seasoned with confusion and disbelief. He’s heard a similar tone before. Once, in the desert, when Jotaro asked him if he’d sliced open his own skin. ]

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