Work Text:
When Jotaro woke up, he saw a single note left on the nightstand.
Be back late tonight. Have dinner without me. Will call if there’s a delay. Love you.
The ink was smudged on the last word, leaving a diagonal streak on the you that marred the otherwise pristine white paper that came from the back of Noriaki’s planner. The perforated margin had been neatly torn off with care, leaving behind no jagged rips or stray scraps that would have thrown off its symmetry.
The room was still dark in the early morning calm, the sky a heavy black that seemed to bulge underneath the gravity of the sun rising up from the horizon. A chill lingered in the air even though Jotaro was tucked underneath the thick comforter with the heat of his own body trapped among the silky sheets. The other side of the bed had already been made.
With a hand that didn’t quite feel like his own, Jotaro set the note back down on the nightstand and went back to sleep.
The next time he woke up, the sun pierced through the window with a nearly luminescent golden streak. The light itself wasn’t bright, the overcast sky graying out what would have otherwise been a vibrant morning, but the stark contrast between the muddy darkness he had first woken up to and the sharp illumination of the bedroom left him feeling dazed.
He didn’t like it. Once more, he closed his eyes and went back to sleep.
This lapse didn’t last long. By the time he rolled over in bed and squinted at the window, the sun had traveled across the room. The afternoon had fully set in with the promise of a cool autumn day that made the warmth of the bed that much more promising. His body felt restless, his leg idly kicking underneath the sheets every few seconds, but his mind remained cloudy. The impulse to move sparked through his nerves, but the sensation remained purely physiological. The actions of his body did nothing to clear the cotton that clouded out the rest of his senses.
It was time to get up.
The journey from the bed to the bathroom down the hall passed in a matter of seconds, stopping only momentarily by the dresser to pull out a mostly unwrinkled pair of pants along the way to the shower. The water was warm when he stepped in, but the patches of skin that escaped the spray grew bitingly cold the second they fell out of reach of the showerhead. The sensation was uncomfortable enough to make him squirm, shifting back and forth to try and retain as much of that heat as he could before he finally gave up and turned the water off.
In routine order, he toweled himself off, brushed his teeth, and shaved the prickly stubble that had started to cling to his jaw. From there, Jotaro wandered back into the bedroom and headed for the dresser to look for a shirt to wear.
It was there though, that a divergence occurred.
He couldn’t have described it, but some kind of drive pushed him towards the closet instead. Inside, Noriaki’s button-ups hung neatly from the plastic hangers, solid starchy whites blending into the soft tans and earthy greens of his woolen sweaters. Three of the hangers remained empty though, a gap that spirited away the space which should have held a single button-up, a pair of black slacks, and a tailored suit jacket. Noriaki’s work clothes.
Jotaro’s own clothes weren’t much compared to Noriaki’s already meager spread. Just a few turtlenecks that couldn’t be folded and his coat. But still, Jotaro reached out and carefully pulled the hanger free from one of his turtlenecks in order to shuck it on over his head. It felt strange, like he had accidentally stepped into a memory that had a little too much nostalgia for his liking. He didn’t move to take it off.
Instead, he wandered back to the nightstand and rummaged through the drawer until his fingers brushed against cold glass. When he pulled his hand out, an old bottle of cologne came out with it.
Noriaki had gotten it as a gift, coming back one day with a bright smile and a pristinely wrapped box from the department store in his hands. When Jotaro asked him about the occasion, he only tilted his head and asked Do I need a reason to go shopping?
He pulled the cap off. The scent of aged cedar and a hint of something smoky made him blink, an undoubtedly expensive scent. He’d only worn it once when they went to dinner, Noriaki dabbing the cologne into his wrists with a pleased look before he buttoned the cuffs of Jotaro’s dress-shirt up for him.
He didn’t have any plans to go out today. Definitely nothing that would have warranted using up such a nice gift. But Jotaro still spritzed a little onto his wrist, rubbing them together just like Noriaki would have instructed him to.
Dressed for no apparent reason, Jotaro grabbed his phone from the nightstand and trudged into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.
He walked straight past the kettle on the stove and grabbed a mug, haphazardly plopping a bag of chamomile tea in and throwing it into the microwave. He didn’t bother to grab anything out of the fridge. It wasn’t like he had much of an appetite these days.
Before the timer could go off, he pulled the mug out, sat himself down at the table, and finally looked at his phone.
A few texts demanded his attention, but only two in particular caught his eye. Jotaro tapped the first one.
Mom
Hi honey! Look what I saw on the way to the store. Aren’t they pretty? I might have taken a few to put in the garden, but let’s keep that between us. Do they look the same in Florida? If you see any while you’re out, send me some pictures.
I hope you’re getting some rest though. I’m sure I’ve bugged you about this before, but if you want, you and Noriaki are more than welcome to come back home. Your grandpa is getting old, but he’s always happy to pull some strings wherever family’s involved. If that sounds nice, just give me a call whenever you’re ready. Sometimes a change of scenery can help more than you’d think. Whatever you want to do, I’ll be here if you need me. I love you very much.
Jotaro stared at the slightly pixelated picture just underneath the text. A lush lavender cosmo bloomed across the screen, its petals rounding out to reveal a golden center. The further up he scrolled, the more flowers he saw. Plump chrysanthemums and silken roses that lined every single invitation back home. None of them had a reply, but they still came in nonetheless.
He studied the picture for a moment longer, hesitated, and then tapped on the second notification.
Jean-Pierre
did you change your number??? i swear muhammad gave me the most recent one you had unless you broke your phone like an animal again. just give me a call whenever youre free yeah? its about time we caught up.
A slew of texts preceded that one, all of varying length and intensity. None of them garnered a response. This one didn’t either.
As Jotaro started to swipe away the rest of the notifications, one email in particular caught his eye. His first instinct was to ignore it, but before he could stop himself, he brought it up.
RE: Request for Extended Leave
Dr. Kujo,
Unfortunately, due to the nature of your position, we can only accept requests for medical leave up to a period of three weeks upon first submission. Conditions that require an extended absence must be confirmed by our medical team first. We apologize for the inconvenience, but at this time, the missions you are currently scheduled for are incredibly time sensitive and cannot be postponed. Accommodations can be made for a companion to join you, but we are unable to push your schedule back any further than we already have.
You are currently booked for a flight out of Tampa International Airport at 9 AM on November 12. Your debriefing will be done when you land in Seoul. The information we have on the nature of the Stand in question is still rudimentary, but a copy of our research can be forwarded to you upon request if you would like to take a look beforehand. If you have any further questions concerning this case, please contact our head of operations in South Korea.
Thank you for your time.
Jotaro read over the email again. And again.
Finally, from somewhere deep within him, he felt the first flicker of guilt.
He had only felt a hint of that guilt when he had first called out of work a month ago, his body unbearably heavy and his head ringing with static. He’d cited medical concerns at first, and the Foundation had been gracious enough to ignore the fact that he had failed to attach any evidence of a doctor’s note to his already tardy email. But they were right.
While some people may have held the same responsibilities as Jotaro, not all of them had the means to follow through with them like he had. His job was one that was impossible to delegate.
It seemed like the Foundation had already decided that for him too.
The guilt churned in his stomach, melting together with what could have been shame strong enough to garner some kind of physical response out of him. Jotaro wouldn’t have minded that. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt much of anything.
Even that wasn’t enough to break through the haze though. The gray light that streamed in through the window dulled out those sensations like a rubber buffer before they could truly reach the core of his heart. He couldn’t see the sun outside, nor any depth to the overcast sky. Somehow, that made the house feel suspended in a pocket of time that couldn’t truly exist.
Jotaro paused.
He looked down at his phone and brought up the clock. The hour and the minute didn’t budge, but the seconds and milliseconds devoured each other in the blink of an eye. Five to six to seven to eight at decimal points he could barely keep track of.
Time was still moving.
He studied the clock for a moment longer, the racing numbers blurring against his eyes when the phone suddenly burst to life in a flurry of vibrations.
Jotaro jolted back, squinting at the screen for a minute before he could properly read what had popped up. Then he answered the phone.
“Hi, Jotaro,” Noriaki said.
Jotaro mumbled something akin to a response out. “Mm.”
A staticky sigh blew out from the speaker. “Ah, are you still waking up?”
“No. Just getting something to drink.” He took a sip of his lukewarm tea. “Why?”
“I just thought I’d give you a call since I’m free,” Noriaki said. “I’m taking a bit of a short lunch to see if I can get out a little early today, but I don’t think I’ll have much luck with that. It feels like everyone needs my signature for everything now. Ah well. At least I get to hear your voice.”
Jotaro nodded along. The speaker crackled with the sound of idle conversation and passing cars as the even pace of Noriaki’s stride echoed through the phone. He must have been on his way back to work now.
“Did you get something to eat yet?” Noriaki asked. “I think there’s still some pastries in the fridge that you could heat up. I took one of the custard ones though. I hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s alright,” Jotaro said. “M’not hungry. I’ll probably just make something for lunch in a bit.”
Noriaki made a concerned noise. “If you say so. There’s still plenty of fruits on the counter if you wanted something smaller to snack on before then.”
Jotaro knew he meant well, but that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t felt genuine hunger in months. “Mm. Thanks.”
Silence settled between them for a minute, but it was quickly interrupted by Noriaki letting out a quiet “ah.”
“I almost forgot to ask,” Noriaki said. “Did you ever get an update about your leave? I can start asking around if they still haven’t gotten back to you yet.”
Jotaro paused.
In the back of his mind, he could visualize what exactly would happen next. He would admit that he’d have to get back to work soon, muttering the words almost too quietly to be heard as Noriaki listened in silence. When he got back, Noriaki would be quick to reassure him that things would work out, that they’d figure out a way to get his leave approved, that the Foundation was large enough to work out their own problems without Jotaro bound to their beck and call. Noriaki would call and email and text everyone he could think of, bury himself neck-deep in layers of bureaucratic circles until the day that Jotaro had to step out the door with his single standard-issue suitcase and leave for the flight that had been scheduled for him.
That future seemed so clear that it was nearly indisputable. There would be no point in dragging Noriaki into something that he had no hope of changing.
“They said they’re processing it now,” Jotaro said. The words seemed dull coming out of his own mouth, like he had hit play on a recording of thoughts long past. “Should be cleared by the end of the week.”
“I see.” Noriaki didn’t sound pleased, but he didn’t question it any further. “At least they’re doing something about it. Ah, I have to get going now, but keep me updated if they say anything else, okay? I’ll see you later tonight.”
“Yeah,” Jotaro said. “See you.”
The speaker clicked as the call ended, casting the kitchen into a heavy silence. The tea had gone cold.
Silently, he stood up and poured the mug down the drain, tossing the damp tea bag into the trash and rinsing out the bottom. It gave him something to do, at least. A strange buzzing in his nerves had settled in, just low enough to make him unsettled with the burst of energy it left him with. He wasn’t quite anxious, but something about lying to Noriaki made him tense in a way.
Something about everything made him feel strange.
Jotaro headed back into the bedroom without much of a reason why. Once he looked inside though, he realized that he had left the door to the closet open. A clean line bisected the two halves of the closet, one side for Noriaki and one for Jotaro.
On a whim, Jotaro pulled his clothes out. He neatly folded up the old turtlenecks, patted down the dusty sweaters, and smoothed out the creases of his off-white slacks, pulling each of them off the hangers one by one. Once they were stacked together in a clean pile, he set them down in the corner of the closet and pushed the empty hangers off to the side. Carefully, Jotaro spread Noriaki’s clothes out to cover up the blank space that remained.
It looked neater now. Complete. And then he understood.
As Jotaro looked over the rewritten remains of their closet, he finally realized that he was getting ready to die.
He wasn’t driven by some kind of greater force, wasn’t sobbing and screaming with impulsive whiplash. The thought just clicked into place as if it had always belonged there. By the end of the day, Jotaro would be dead.
It made sense, in a strange way. There had been countless times in the past where he logically should have died. Times where he was certain that he would have died. In all of those times, death was something of a risk. Terrifying because of its uncertainty.
But there was no uncertainty here. He had no plan nor any convoluted desire to make that death happen as soon as possible. It would simply come to be.
The day progressed normally, if only with a little more attention to detail. Jotaro stripped the mattress and dragged the sheets into the washing machine, vacuuming the old carpeted floors and washing out the bathtub while they dried.
Soon, the soft gray outside darkened ever so slightly. The first swatches of dark violet and deep magenta stretched across the sky in a slow winter sunset. It was getting late. Noriaki would be back soon.
Jotaro paused. He still didn’t have much of a plan at all. He didn’t know how exactly he was going to die, or what his own death would even entail. The only thing he really knew was that he couldn’t do it in the house. He’d have to leave first.
On instinct, Jotaro grabbed his phone and his wallet only to realize that he wasn’t sure if he would need them or not. Leaving them would only make Noriaki worried though. It’d be better if he just brought them along anyways.
Finally, he hefted his coat up and tucked his phone, wallet and keys into one of the pockets. Jotaro wandered out into the hallway, reaching the entryway before he stopped and headed back into the dining room to turn the light on for when Noriaki came home. Then, he slipped his shoes on and left.
As soon as he stepped outside, the chill of the evening air forced him to tighten his coat around himself. The driveway was empty now that Noriaki was starting to regularly drive to work. That didn’t really matter to Jotaro. He wasn’t sure what he would have done with the car even if it was there.
He stepped out onto the sidewalk, picked a direction at random, and started to walk. A uncanny atmosphere had settled around him like a plastic bubble. The glow of the streetlights that had just flicked on, the rumble of passing cars and idle conversation all felt like they were part of a world that Jotaro wasn’t privy to.
It made him feel like a bystander to the life around him. It wasn’t like anyone else was walking around with the certain knowledge of their death.
Unconsciously, he found himself swerving away from the busier intersections that would have led downtown, pacing down the quieter residential streets instead. He paid little attention to the street signs around him, focused only on getting away from the rush hour bustle down the road.
Jotaro didn’t know what he was looking for until he found it. Across the street, an empty park lingered in ambient noise so hushed it felt almost more oppressive than outright silence. He didn’t bother to look before he crossed the road, stepping over the empty parking lot covered in loose gravel. He wondered if he should go further in, deeper into the trees, but instead, he ended up sitting down on a bench facing the street just a little ways down one of the trails that looped around the park.
There was nothing else to do now. He folded his hands on his lap, leaned back against the bench, and waited.
Time passed along slowly, melting into an amorphous haze rather than a linear thread. Somehow, though he had no way of proving it, Jotaro knew that this was where he was supposed to be. It would happen soon. He didn’t concern himself with figuring out how.
His phone started to vibrate against his thigh, the sensation so muted that he almost missed it entirely. Somehow, he managed to pull it out of his pocket and look down at the screen. It pulsed against his hand every few seconds and fell silent before it picked back up again, a consistent pattern that showed no signs of stopping. Jotaro watched and waited for it go to voicemail. It didn’t.
So he answered the phone.
“Oh,” Noriaki said, surprise evident in his voice. “I thought your phone died for a minute. Did you not see my texts? Actually, don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to bug you, but I was just wondering where you went. I didn’t know you were going out tonight.”
Jotaro’s voice died in his throat. Hearing Noriaki’s voice made the world snap back into clarity so fast it left him reeling to catch up. The reality of the situation sunk in with terrifying speed, and the dull pulse of unease reared its head into an ugly panic. He couldn’t lie his way out of this now.
“Jotaro?” Noriaki shuffled around on the other end of the line, his keys clattering in the background when he presumably set them down on the table like he did every night when he came back from work. “Hello? Are you there?”
The words slipped out of his grasp when Jotaro tried to dig them out of his mouth. He didn’t want to be on the phone anymore.
“Can you hear me?” Noriaki asked. “Hello? Jo—”
“Can you come here.”
The sentence was so bare-bones that it barely had enough intonation to be considered a question, grinding itself out between Jotaro’s teeth as he forced it out into the open. He wasn’t sure where that distant flightiness from before had gone. He felt horrifically chained to his body now.
Noriaki went quiet, the faint staticky echo of his breathing the only sign that the call hadn’t disconnected yet. Jotaro hoped that he heard him the first time around, because he didn’t think he had it in him to ask again.
The clinking of Noriaki’s keys rattled again, even louder this time.
“Of course,” Noriaki said. He still sounded confused, but there was a quiet note of urgency in his words now. “Just give me a minute to get the car started. Where are you?”
Jotaro tried to map out the route he had taken, but the path felt hazy, like rounded corners and blurred signs in his memory.
“The park a few streets over,” he finally said. “I think.”
“You think?” Noriaki repeated. He sounded a little more concerned now. “Do you not know where you are?”
“Mm.”
“Okay.” The car door slammed shut, the engine rumbling to life not a second later. “Okay, that’s alright. The park a few streets over. Okay. Are you hurt?”
Jotaro pursed his lips. He wasn’t hurt by any means, not like anything he’s gone through before, but he didn't feel healthy. Something felt off in a way beyond physical pain, like the ebb and flow of his body had been disrupted rather than damaged.
“No,” he finally muttered. “I don’t know. Just wanted to see you again.”
Noriaki paused. Jotaro did too.
“Jotaro,” Noriaki said. “Did you do something?”
Jotaro felt like a livewire had sparked through his veins, his posture too rigid and the speaker on the phone too loud. He wanted to hang up now.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Don’t worry about driving. I’ll walk back. Give me a few minutes.”
“Wait, Jotaro—!”
He hung up the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket like the screen would burn his fingers if he held onto it for any longer.
Part of him wanted to get up and keep moving, like that would fix anything about the disaster he had heaped onto himself within the past five minutes, but he couldn’t quite get his body to respond. The only thing that Jotaro could feel was that livewire pulse that sparked out from his stomach through his veins, flaring behind his eyes and burrowing into his muscles. It was too much.
Distantly, he heard the rumble of an engine down the road. Saw the swerving headlights that curved into the parking lot and promptly shut off not a second later. It was too soon. Too fast, too soon.
Jotaro swallowed. He needed more time.
He saw Noriaki opening the door, stumbling out still dressed in his work clothes, and Jotaro needed him to stay there and let his racing heart settle down. But he was still moving, slamming the door shut behind him and striding across the parking lot, heading right for the path that Jotaro was on, too fast, too soon—
And time stopped.
The frantic gleam in Noriaki’s eyes, piercing through his polished glasses, went still. His stride froze in mid-step, right leg extended in front of the left just a few inches above the pavement with his phone held tight in his hand. The car door just barely clicked into place, halted before it could lock. The stars remained still in the sky.
The air grew thicker, heavier in his lungs that burned from their unnatural constriction. His throat tightened with a sharp burn, as if he had submerged himself underwater with only the slightest inhale before his air was cut off. He had learned how to subvert that animal instinct to breathe in stopped time though, how to fight with an oxygen-starved body if only for a few seconds.
That was all he needed. Just a few seconds.
His heart sent a jolt of pain radiating through the rest of his chest, sharp enough to feel like a blade between his ribs with blood that was blocked from flowing. In the back of his mind, he knew that he couldn’t push it. His body wouldn’t be able to handle it.
But for now, he could stay here. Feel his lungs burn, nausea making his head spin, brushing too close to complete stillness to be able to come back. He slumped back against the backrest of the bench, his throat clogging up as he wheezed for air that he wouldn’t be able to find.
Maybe like this, he could have more than a few seconds.
Spots swam across his vision, his head lulling against his shoulders with a caving pressure within his skull so intense he swore it would implode. He could stay here and let his body shut down in this pocket of time. Let the world sway back into motion once he could no longer keep it frozen. Let time move on without him.
Let Noriaki keep reaching towards him.
The past raced back into the present so quickly that all of those missed seconds slammed into Jotaro hard enough to make him wheeze, his blood bursting through his veins as his heart threw itself against his muscles in a frantic race for equilibrium.
“Jotaro!”
Jotaro tensed when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. Before he knew it, another threw itself behind his neck, yanking him forward into Noriaki’s chest. It was an awkward angle, Jotaro pushed into an odd diagonal while Noriaki hunched down to reach him, but Jotaro couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Jotaro,” Noriaki muttered, nails digging into the fabric of his turtleneck. “Jotaro, I—”
He didn’t finish his sentence. Jotaro didn’t offer to complete it for him. Maybe five seconds ago, he would have reached up and clung to Noriaki with the same electric desperation that Noriaki was trying and failing to hide. Now though, a strange lull had settled over his body.
He knew why. The tangled lines of thought that had tightened around his neck loosened. Time passed on. That final elusive window of opportunity passed with it.
Jotaro would not die tonight.
But Noriaki, hands shaking and breathing ragged, didn’t know that.
Slowly, he wrapped his arms around Noriaki’s waist. Turned his face into his abdomen and felt the unsteady pulse of his stomach caving in and out as Noriaki took in a slow, warbling breath.
The only sound that Jotaro could hear was the steady pace of Noriaki forcing himself down from the verge of hyperventilation though his grip never loosened. Eventually, he let out a long, slow exhale. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”
His voice held an audible strain to it now, though he sounded calm enough on the surface. It was the same way he sounded when he was stretched too thin at work, the stakes too high to fail but the demand too harsh to meet. Jotaro couldn’t remember the last time he had heard that tone before.
He rolled his tongue in his mouth. Rubbery, and heavy. Painfully grounding.
“No,” he said.
He felt Noriaki nod, his jaw brushing against his hair as he leaned down over Jotaro’s head. “Okay. Alright.” Took another deep breath. “Okay. Do you want me to call someone for you?”
Jotaro shook his head. Frowned. Noriaki’s questions were starting to sound familiar, like he had heard them somewhere before, when he realized that he had heard them before. They were the same questions that Noriaki asked every victim he came across during a case.
Jotaro wasn’t sure how he felt about that revelation.
“No,” he said. “I’m fine.”
Noriaki’s grip tightened.
“You’re fine?”
Ever so slightly, Noriaki’s voice cracked. Jotaro wouldn’t have been able to push him off even if he had the strength to.
“This isn’t fine,” Noriaki said. He was getting louder now. “Nothing about this is fine. Coming home to find you gone isn’t fine. Driving here without knowing whether or not you were still alive isn’t fine. That’s not how this works. Do you understand that?”
Noriaki’s voice echoed throughout the empty path. It stung, but Jotaro didn’t blame him. Couldn’t have. Not when he was right.
As quickly as his temper flared though, it died down again, a faint simmer that left Noriaki hauling him in even closer.
“I’m sorry,” Noriaki murmured. “I didn’t mean that. I didn’t. I just—I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m not mad at you. Really. I’m glad you called me.”
“I know,” Jotaro said. The stagnant lull of his voice felt dull compared to the warbling pitch of Noriaki’s.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” Noriaki’s words were tumbling out now, faster than his tongue could keep up with. “I didn’t mean it. You—I just thought you were asleep when I got back. Since the lights were still on. And you weren’t in the bedroom when I looked and I was—”
Like a puppet with its strings cut, Noriaki slouched down to bury his face into the crown of Jotaro’s head.
“I thought that you were feeling better enough to go out again.”
Tucked this close to him, Jotaro felt the tremor that ran throughout his shoulders, felt the dampness against his hair as Noriaki jolted with a muted hiccup.
A part of Jotaro wondered if their roles should have been reversed. If Jotaro was the one who should have been sobbing and shaking while Noriaki offered him whatever steadfast comfort he could. But he just didn’t have the energy for an outburst like that anymore.
“M’sorry,” he muttered.
“Don’t.”
“It’s not your fault.” Jotaro leaned against Noriaki’s stomach, the cold silk of his suit jacket soothing against his cheek. “I don’t know what it is. But I don’t think things can stay this way anymore.”
Noriaki tensed.
“Between us?”
Jotaro shook his head. “No. Not with you. Just being like this.”
At that, Noriaki relaxed. Took another deep breath, though that still didn’t shake the watery waver lodged in his throat.
“We can deal with that then,” he said. “If something needs to change, we can figure it out. We can take some time off for now. Slow down for a minute.”
“I can’t,” Jotaro mumured, almost on instinct. “My leave got denied.”
“Then we’ll quit,” Noriaki replied, barely missing a beat. “Find something else. Move somewhere else. Maybe visit Jean-Pierre and Muhammad for a while. Or we can go back to Japan.”
Jotaro faltered. Logically, he knew that Noriaki was right, but the sheer enormity of those decisions held a little too much weight for him to even try and consider them in his current state. He didn’t even know how to convey that sentiment to Noriaki though.
But Noriaki quieted down before he could try and parse together an answer.
“We have time,” Noriaki eventually said. “We can figure it out.”
Slowly, Jotaro nodded.
“Okay.”
“Okay,” Noriaki repeated. The tension seemed to bleed out of his body with that word. “Okay.”
After one last squeeze around Jotaro’s shoulders, Noriaki straightened up. And for the first time that night, Jotaro finally got to see his face.
His cheeks were flushed, the skin around his eyes drawn tight with a ring of aching red around them. The tear tracks that clung to the line of his jaw glinted under the moonlight as Noriaki pulled his glasses off and wiped his face with a rough hand. He looked exhausted, as worn as Jotaro had ever seen him, but he was still here.
“Do you want to go home?” Noriaki asked.
Jotaro thought of the light he left on in the dining room, of the bathroom he had scrubbed clean and the half-empty closet in their bedroom.
“Not now.”
Noriaki nodded along. “Then do you mind if I stay with you?”
Jotaro didn’t bother to respond to that. He reached out and pulled at the sleeve of Noriaki’s jacket, tugging him down until he was seated on the bench next to him. The warmth of his arm pressed against Jotaro’s own acted as a gentle tether, just enough to keep him in the present moment.
There was a lot they had to talk about. A lot that Jotaro needed to explain.
Jotaro couldn’t kindle that conversation now, but he could at least find a small corner of the truth to start with.
He slouched down against the splintered backrest of the bench, curled in the bulk of his body tight enough so that he could rest his head against the crook of Noriaki’s neck.
“Noriaki,” he said. “I think I’m tired.”
Noriaki let his head drop down into the mussed mess of Jotaro’s hair.
“I know.”
Jotaro couldn’t tell if time was still moving. If he had fallen into another strangle bubble that only he alone could enter.
But Noriaki was breathing slow and steady next to him, his hand snaking across their laps to intertwine with Jotaro’s own.
Time continued on as it always would, and for as little as it meant now, even if it was just for tonight, Jotaro managed to find some place to call his own within each fleeting second that passed him by.