the relation of art and pain | jotakak

xi

The joke slipped out before Jotaro could stop it, but he realizes how accurate it is. He's mature enough now to acknowledge his father could've been worse; he could've beat him, for one, but he didn't. He was never home long enough to, Jotaro thinks.

He feels guilty now, clarifying even though he doesn't need to: "He wasn't that bad, I guess. Just... y'know."

"I don't think it matters if it was 'that' bad," Kakyoin says, using air quotes. "It makes you unhappy. So it sucks."

Jotaro grunts. He's a little amused. He has never talked about his father with anyone before, but he can't imagine another person he knows giving him that response.

"You have a point," Jotaro admits.

"If it makes you feel any better," he offers, "My dad, um... he's not any better."

"Is that what ruined your day?" Jotaro asks. He surprises even himself; he doesn't have lengthy heart-to-hearts often, but he never brings things up once they've passed in conversations.

Kakyoin grows shy. "In a way."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. It does," he agrees. "Let's move on."

It immediately makes him feel bad. Jotaro thinks of Jean's lecture the first time he met him and realizes how often he fucks up with Kakyoin, yet the other man never seems to mind it. His guilt over ragging on his dad fades into guilt over continually disrupting Kakyoin's life. He can't imagine a better time to move on.

He tries to come up with something to talk about. It's difficult enough without an awkward atmosphere. "So, you like pop music?"

Kakyoin's mood switches like a light. He shrugs. "Sort of... I like softer music. Any genre."

"You know what I like. But I like harder rock, too, sometimes. Like TsuShiMaMiRe."

"That's more of what I expected out of you," Kakyoin says playfully.

"Care to elaborate?"

"I suppose I was stereotyping," he admits. "But you seem like that type. Dark clothes. Dark hair. Frowning. I like it. But it's like me saying I like doom metal."

Jotaro snorts. "'Guess that's fair," he says. "I made some assumptions myself."

"Oh?"

"Yeah... those scars you've got, on your eyes. They make you look a lil' more badass than your seventies get ups do," he says, with the utmost affection. Kakyoin has worn colorful, retro looking button ups the entire time Jotaro has known him. It's ironic with how subdued he usually acts, but the blocky patterns have begun to grow on Jotaro despite his aversion to bright colors.

Kakyoin offers him a soft smile. He swears it flickers into a frown for a second. "I got the scars a few years ago," he says. "In a fight."

"Mm. I used to get into fights, too," Jotaro says.

"It wasn't really a fight, I suppose..." Kakyoin continues, as if he hadn't heard him. "More like I got the shit beat out of me. But they do look sort of cool."

"Hell yeah," Jotaro reassures. He gives Kakyoin's hand a squeeze in an attempt to lighten the mood. It doesn't work so well this time, though.

"Sorry. It was... well, it wasn't great," he chuckles. There's no humor in it and it sets Jotaro on edge, but he listens regardless. "You don't want to hear about that kind of thing. Sorry," he repeats.

"You know my sob story. I might as well know yours," Jotaro says. It sounds more callous than he intended, as if he thinks of Kakyoin's compassion as a favor that he has to repay. But like always, Kakyoin knows what he means. It's a little concerning to Jotaro how well and how consistently he understands him. It feels evasive and strange, yet the sense of relief it provides is grand.

Kakyoin hesitates, his grip on Jotaro's hand tightening, searching for comfort. Jotaro wishes he could give it to him, but he can't. Instead, he sits still while Kakyoin tries to gather his thoughts and decide.

"I got bullied a lot," Kakyoin finally begins. "I liked video games as a kid — I still like video games a lot, actually, they're fun — but I wasn't like the other kids. You know how that goes. Asian, too, so of course I got picked on for that."

"Kids suck ass," Jotaro interjects. Kakyoin nods.

"They do," he agrees. "Three years ago I got these. And my life went to shit, but that's... another story."

Jotaro gets the feeling that it isn't another story, but he won't pry when Kakyoin is growing notably anxious. Although he's curious now, he doesn't need to know the details. He focuses on the soft music playing out of the phone before he makes a decision. He lets go of Kakyoin's hand to touch his shoulder, inviting him to cuddle into his side.

Without another word, Kakyoin takes the offer. The mood in the dorm shifts into something far more peaceful, as Kakyoin brings his legs up under him and lays his head on Jotaro's shoulder. Jotaro isn't sure what to do from here. He settles into the couch and listens to the last few notes of Hurts So Good. If nothing else, Kakyoin's taste is rather fine.

It feels like an hour passes before Kakyoin moves, just enough to rest his hand on Jotaro's chest. He can feel his heart react, pounding under the redhead's splayed hand as he nuzzles his cheek against Jotaro's shoulder. The warmth of his touch is soothing at the same time that it sends his nerves into a tizzy. Jotaro is confident that Kakyoin can feel his heartbeat thumping, but he rests his own hand on top of his anyways.

He can feel Kakyoin's face shift as he smiles, can picture his dimples showing. It makes his mind fog over and Jotaro can think of little beyond the wonderful feeling of lacing his fingers through Kakyoin's. His skin is soft, besides the callous on his ring finger from holding a pencil. There's something deeply intimate to Jotaro about snuggling here, their hands over his heart, after sharing things with him that Jotaro figured would stay locked away in his thoughts forever. It seems far too easy to make up his mind now.

He wants more dates with Kakyoin.

He wants to spend more time with Kakyoin.

He really, really likes Kakyoin.

As if sensing this, Kakyoin lifts his head. "Jotaro?" He asks softly.

Jotaro turns his attention to him. "Yeah?"

"I like this a lot."

"I do, too."

Kakyoin gives him a smile, and then his eyes slide down his face. Somehow, Jotaro manages to not fly into an inner panic when he leans forward and presses his lips against his. He's damned proud of how he kisses back without a hint of hesitation, of how he lets go of Kakyoin's hand to cup his face.

The confidence drains faster than the speed of light when Kakyoin leans back. All that remains is the goofy smile on the artist's face and Jotaro's mind reeling with how enamored he is with this man.