First Love (Primer Amor) (Eng. Ver.) (GiornoxJolyne) (Giolyne)

Chapter 10

Dawn was just breaking, and with the humidity of the previous storm, it felt cooler than usual. A few bird whistles announced the new dawn, along with the few rays that peeked out from between the curtains of the Kujo house.

In one of the bedrooms, the dad's to be exact, Jotaro was trying to cover himself with one of the many pillows he liked to occupy during the night. When he moved, however, he didn't know why, but he felt extremely tired as if a thousand cars had fallen on him. There was even a foul taste in his mouth that made him crankier on top of his abdominal pain.

Feeling like he was not going to be able to continue sleeping with such discomfort, he frowned and opened his eyes before slowly sitting up. He leaned back against the headboard and rubbed his head. Slowly, he began to remember, and with his aching intestines, he recalled the whole unpleasant scenario.

What happened?

He only remembered that the day before he had been keenly watching Anasui bully Giorno and separate him from Jolyne, while he snacked on the damp but delicious sandwiches in the messy basket. And without noticing, unpleasant gurgling noises had made their presence felt inside.

He turned to his side where his cell phone rested. The green light on it blinked to indicate that he had missed some messages or calls. Which idiot had decided to bother him on a fucking Sunday morning? And especially when he felt so disgusted.

"Speaking of idiots..." he thought out loud after verifying who it was. It was none other than Narciso Anasui, his photo icon showing that wide, ridiculous smile of his.

He decided not to return the missed call, but he did read the messages Anasui had left him. At first, Jotaro found his concern cynical, what with how he had taken off when Jotaro was in such a deplorable condition. He was aware that the issue Anasui was most concerned about surrounded Jolyne and Giorno, but the boy still asked about his state of health before attempting to broach the subject.

In the end, Jotaro did not answer. If he had to put up with that unbearable guy, he preferred to do it when he intercepted him later. At the moment, he did not feel like even thinking about him.

Putting the phone back down where it was before, he noticed the mess on the nightstand for the first time. It was littered with boxes and a couple of small jars with a few pills strewn about, and of course, three empty glass cups.

He didn't remember much, but judging from the damp rag, he guessed he had a fever the night before. Very strange, since he hardly ever got sick in such an embarrassing way. Although, there was something that captured his curiosity...

Who had taken care of him? It seemed fascinating to him that someone had watched over him as if he were a little boy, as he had been so many years ago, even though they were not his mother. However, now that he thought about it, the last time he was sick, Jolyne had not even been born and he was taken care of by...

"My wife..." he said with a touch of sadness, releasing a small sigh.

Though he should now say his ex-wife, he couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic. Maybe it wasn't her but Jolyne, but he doubted it. Although, thinking about the possible care of the delicate woman who once professed love to him when the thought of dedicating himself to someone in a romantic way seemed impossible, filled him with melancholy that made him miss those times.

Jotaro would never say it aloud or admit it even to himself, but there were times in the evenings in Italy that he would look at himself and his silent apartment, longing for the warmth of his wife, her bright eyes and her brown hair; that sweet woman who used to welcome him every day when he came from work in spite of his bad moods.