oneshots | JJBA

jotakak | bitte, bitte

trigger warning: implied drug use.

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Jotaro has felt this tingling, anonymous feeling in his chest every morning since the plane touched down.

He should be amazed.

He should be thankful, to be alive, to be breathing. But he can't find it within himself to think that this is better than being dead. He can't find it within himself to think the slow, steady pace his medication sets for him is something that makes life worth living; he can't feel that this Valium-induced emptiness is worth anything, especially not what Holly pays for it. The only thing it does is save his precious, fragile shards of masculinity from falling out of his hands. Jotaro has cried himself sick so many times that he doubts that anyone can even see him as a man any longer.

There's a longing for Egypt, to be in a hotel room again, suddenly a devout believer in God because nobody else could have possibly given him the Heaven that is a shower, not after days of feeling — and smelling — like a rotting carcass. It's a constant, dull throb behind his eyes, one that not even an overdose can rid him of. Jotaro would know.

He's tried.

He wants to be back. He picks apart all of his memories, forcing himself to relive them, to question what he could've done. He longs for the ability to change things. If things had only gone differently. Jotaro can't find himself content with saying he wishes it never happened at all, for it simply isn't true.

He met three of the greatest men he has ever known. Jotaro is aware that, one way or another, they would have been brought together anyways. Fate, destiny, something along those lines.

But a pat on the back from Avdol would never mean the same thing unless it's after Jotaro's put his life on the line for somebody else in a ridiculous game of cards. Comforting Kakyoin in his arms would never mean the same thing unless it's after he's had his eyes slit in the middle of the desert.

And Joseph — Jotaro can confidently say he didn't even know his grandpa before the desert. He had no idea how Joseph could ever raise someone like Holly, until he saw him pet Kakyoin's hair before they left the hospital, brows furrowed and mouth in a deep frown. Jotaro will never forget the look on his face. Concern. Sadness. So many things he had never thought Joseph even understood. It seems funny now, how he assumed he didn't even feel negativity. It simply didn't seem possible until he saw it firsthand.

Being back in Japan feels as though the world has shifted. An essential part of it is missing. The past weeks have been nothing but a dream, a nightmare that's shaken him to the core. Nothing feels right.

There's two too many men missing from this world now, and it's Jotaro's goddamn fault.

It could have been Jotaro. He wishes he went with his grandpa, even if it wasn't his best idea. He felt the urge to. A missed opportunity that cost a life.

Kakyoin was so young.

It's maybe the one thing that fucks him up the most. Jotaro was in love with him, everyday without him feels like Hell on Earth, but those are Jotaro's problems. No one else's.

It would be selfish to think of those things while he stands here in front of Kakyoin's grave, desperate to keep himself together. Crying because of him is selfish. Jotaro doesn't deserve to be sad about what he is missing. He lost that right back in Egypt.

But the birth and death dates, so close together; the fresh, fake, store bought flowers, undoubtedly left by grieving family; the freshly turned dirt. All of it chokes Jotaro, makes it difficult to breathe.

This is his fault. He ripped someone's kid from them because he didn't trust his gut just once. Jotaro bites his tongue and drops the flowers, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes in an effort to stop the tears stinging at them. He sighs, shaky and loud, and turns away before he can look at it again.

He'll fix the flowers when he comes again tomorrow.

originally pub. on ao3 on 2020-04-04