Eloquence

Dark

Kakyoin breathes in steam that smells like strawberries. He drags his hand through his hair, rinses out the last of the shampoo. Pink residue stains his shoulders and he wonders absentmindedly whether it was too soon to wash his hair after a touch-up.

"Kakyoin, dear?" Ah, that's Miss Holly's voice. "Could you hurry up? It's starting to storm. There could be lightning." So much for the relaxing hour-long shower.

Kakyoin huffs in disappointment and tilts his head back under the stream of hot water. "Yes, Miss Holly. I'll be right out." He shuts his eyes to guard against the flow of lather on his face. 

When he opens them again, they cannot see.

He blinks twice, then again. He waves his hand in front of his face. Nothing. A soft keening escapes his throat - the beginnings of panic.

The sound of a door opening, over the rush of water (water, water attacks, have to escape, and Kakyoin throws himself away from it, lands with bruising force on something cold and hard and smooth), and two footsteps, are unaccompanied by any visual. 

"Kakyoin?"

Full-fledged terror is crawling up from Kakyoin's lungs in a sort of quiet screech. "It's dark..."

"The power went out."

Kakyoin can barely process the words without seeing the way Jojo's eyes shift at the end of the sentence, or how his ever-so-eloquent hands twitch at his sides. "It's so dark."

"You're fine. I'll grab a candle."

"Don't leave. I can't..."

And it is cold, cold like darkness and the smell of disinfectant and not knowing whether he would ever see the sun skim across a scene in just the right way again.

Kakyoin's breathing is ragged. He reaches out until his fingers meet heavy cloth, and all at once he remembers putting gentle pressure on Jojo's legs as wide around as the mast of a ship to mark out a pose. "Stay here."

Jojo's hand falls onto Kakyoin's shoulder. "You're fine. The power went out. I can get a candle."

"No. Stay." Kakyoin twists his hands into the fabric of Jojo's pants. Dimly, he realizes that he is shaking, teeth chattering with the fear carved into his face by water in the desert. "The water."

"You need to let go so I can turn it off."

Kakyoin listens as shoes cross the tiled floor to the shower, listens as the water dies, listens to the rain. "Still water."

"I can't turn off the rain." Jojo's voice is cold, as cold as the tiles under Kakyoin's bare skin, and there is nothing to soften either the ceramic of the floor or of the words. "I'll go grab a candle."

Lightning flashes through the window and Kakyoin sees, for an instant, only whiteness. Then it is dark again.

A damp hand brushes Kakyoin's arm, and is gone.