Kickstart My Heart

Cherry Bomb

Egypt, December 31, 1987

Across the window the sun was about to set.
A mere look around was enough to confirm to Jōtarō he had succeeded. He was back. In one of the rooms Joseph had booked for New Year's Eve.

Star Platinum's ocean eyes suddenly opened wide, as if he had just seen a ghost, and he leapt onto something behind his user.
- ORA!!!

- Aouch! Star, what's going on...?!

That voice.

Jōtarō turned and his heart skipped a beat.

Kakyoin had just stepped out of the bathroom, a damp cloth in his hand. And right now he was on the floor, nearly suffocating under Star's bone-crushing hug. His violet eyes stared at the brunette, full of question marks.

- Jojo...?

Jōtarō blinked.
When he had activated Doubleback he had not expected to bump into Kakyoin right away.

Suddenly the entire room had lit up.

The young man in front of him had a freshly washed face and water was dripping from the tip of his scarlet hair. His rebel strand was cascading in a suave curl, almost hiding his right eye, as if he were just back from the hairdresser's.
His pale skin showed no track of blood, and the shape of his intact torso could be seen (and felt) through his impeccable green gakuran.

Jōtarō had forgotten just how much the fabric adjusted to his friend's frame.

... or how slender and tonic his body was, like that of a gymnast.
(The hug he had given Polnareff had had little effect on him, but now the feeling of Kakyoin indirectly pressed against him through Star sent a shiver down Jōtarō's whole body.)

- ... Jojo? Is everything okay?

The latter snapped out of his thoughts and gave himself a mental slap. He briefly thought of stopping time to come back to his senses, before remembering that back then, the group didn't know anything about The World yet.
Better avoid any faux pas and stick to his then usual behavior.

- ..Star, the fuck's gotten into you. Let him go already, I didn't summon you, the taller teen mumbled while lowering his hat over his face to mask his unease. Yare yare daze...

The stand reluctantly complied. Jōtarō shot him a death glare, silently ordering him not to mess everything up.
Kakyoin tilted his head on the side while gathering himself up and dusting his jacket.

- No harm done, I just didn't expect him to be so... physical, for no reason.
- He's not.

Kakyoin nodded without questioning his friend's abrupt tone.

Then he slowly approached his bed with an uncertain smile.

- Anyway. Take off your shirt.

Jōtarō froze.
- ... What?

Kakyoin cleared his throat, ran a hand through his perfectly combed hair and gestured to the cloth in his hand.
- Your back wound, remember? The one you got when Midler's stand chewed you up...? If you don't take off your shirt, I can't tend to it. You've had it for three days, it might get infected if I don't clean it.

At the absence of an answer, the younger teen frowned and narrowed his eyes — his eyes undamaged by N'Dour yet.
- Jojo, are you sure you're okay? he worried. I told you like twenty minutes ago I was going to shower and then I'd tend to the wound and you did agree, right?

Jōtarō was trying his hardest to focus on his friend's words instead of his face (and his unscathed body, so alive, of which he still felt the sensation against his chest). He vaguely nodded.
- Mmh.