Eloquence

Music

Waking up next to Jotaro isn't as weird as it should be. Kakyoin supposes that this is because he grew used to it when they shared hotel rooms. Neither of them is much of a sleep-cuddler, which helps, doesn't it? Not that Kakyoin would mind if... he shakes his head to rid it of whatever he was about to think.

Jotaro still has his hat on. When Kakyoin leaves the room, Jojo does nothing but snore and roll over.

"Oh, Kakyoin! You're up at last," says Miss Holly. Kakyoin, still sleepy, stumbles over to the cupboards and hunts for something to eat. "It's nearly noon, dear, so would you mind waiting until lunch?"

Kakyoin does mind, but he could never say no to someone like Miss Holly, so he swallows his hunger and shuffles off to his room to get dressed.

"Oh, and Kakyoin, dear?"

"Yes, Miss Holly?"

"Could you let Polnareff know that lunch will be soon? I haven't seen him all day. Honestly, you boys have such an unhealthy sleep schedule." She twists her apron anxiously in her fists.

"Of course." Kakyoin hurries off to change out of his pajamas before Miss Holly can comment on that too.

Jean-Pierre Polnareff is sitting on the floor in his room, staring at his hands, when Kakyoin knocks on the open door.

Polnareff looks up from his wiggling finger stumps. "Do you have a minute?"

"Sure." Kakyoin flops down next to Polnareff. "What's up?"

"Can you still understand my sign language?"

Kakyoin snorts. "It was never all that good. Why, what did you change?"

"My hands. They're all chewed up."

"I can still figure out what you mean. The stubs don't make a whole lot of difference."

Polnareff sighs. "I guess not. I mean, I'm lucky to still have hands. To even be alive."

Kakyoin nods. He's glad that Polnareff survived, glad that Avdol made it out roughly intact, but he knows all too well the feeling of missing a pair of eyes, and he thinks it might translate. "We're both lucky. Doesn't mean this sucks any less."

"I just..." Polnareff stops.

Kakyoin looks around the room, unsure whether he should break the silence.

"I used to play the trumpet," Polnareff blurts. "I used to have this silver trumpet and I could play it so well that it purred in my hands. And now I can't do that anymore because I don't have my fingers.

"And I know that maybe it's selfish to be upset about losing something like a trumpet when we got to save the entire world from Dio and even survive the experience. But I just wish I could play again. I want my fingers back."

"S' not selfish," says Kakyoin. "S' just natural. I used to love lying in the darkness because I could see all these colors turning themselves into new ideas for art. I can't see the colors anymore. I can't even sleep with the lights off now. You saw how I freaked during that thunderstorm. I have it luckier than you, Pol. I get to keep my eyes. And I'm still bitter about it."

Polnareff stares at the ceiling. "You're an artist scared of his inspiration. I'm a musician who can't play. Guess everything has its price." Then: "Did you ever... in the hospitals..."

"Consider it? Yeah. All the time. You?"

"Every day," Polnareff whispers. "Every day, until Avdol got out of the hospital and I had a reason to live again."

"But not anymore," Kakyoin says, carefully, bravely. "I drew it, the other night, when the power went out. I drew that feeling. It's what Avdol's fighting, you know. The darkness. More than the absence of illumination."