Chapter Text
“it started on valentine’s?! that was so long ago!” polnareff’s indignant exclamation could surely be heard from outer space—or, at the very least, the apartment next door to his own. “i thought we were friends.”
kakyoin stirs his tea absent-mindedly, letting his friend go through the motions—after all, this is the reveal he’s assumedly been waiting for, kakyoin’s admittance that he and jotaro were now… something other than just friends. he explained their valentine’s day, he discussed the radio silence, and finally, ended with the previous night—impromptu, delayed jotaro day.
he leaves out some of the details, of course—while polnareff’s nosy ass would certainly love to hear the nitty-gritty about what exactly happened, for all intents and purposes, ‘and then we kissed’ should suffice for now. hopefully, he’d feel too dramatic and betrayed to delve into details.
“i’m sorry, pol.” kakyoin finally speaks again, looking back up at his friend. “i wanted to figure it out a bit more before telling you.”
“we could have figured it out together, nori.” polnareff shakes his head, following his words with a soft tsk, tsk. “well, go on—there’s more, isn’t there?”
“what do you mean? i’ve told you everything.”
“nonsense. i have questions.” the other leans forward. “you say ‘kissed,’ but what does that mean?”
“pol, i don’t think you need me to define what kissing is.”
“you know what i mean. was it chaste? quick? or… not so much?”
… kakyoin had underestimated polnareff’s nosiness. “that’s none of your business.”
“it is my business, as your best friend.” polnareff huffs. “after all these years of post-dio consoling and date setups, the time has finally come. i finally get to receive.”
kakyoin sighs, shaking his head as he considers this—less that polnareff is right, and more that he knows his friend will not be denied. he’ll continue pestering and asking questions that get progressively more invasive until he’s at least somewhat sated with information, because in his mind, this is something he’s been waiting for.
“it’s really not that exciting.” kakyoin looks back down at his tea. “we kissed a bit. then it was getting late, so he went home.”
“a bit?” polnareff tilts his head. “like, first base? or not even on the bases?”
kakyoin puts his head in his hands. “you’re over thirty. are you really going to use these metaphors?”
“they’re useful!”
kakyoin shakes his head, giving a hefty groan—but even still, he thinks about the night before to try and give an objective response to sate his friend. ‘the bases’ are a dumb metaphor regardless; it can mean something different from person to person, let alone that it’s usually applied in a heteronormative context. he and jotaro had kissed—a lot more than “quick,” and definitely not “chaste.” but they remained clothed, and any wandering hands were kept strictly upper half.
but he’s not about to explain all of that, because that’ll just make polnareff ask more questions—so he makes his best approximation. “i don’t know, pol. first, i guess? maybe second, depending on your definition?”
“rounding first is not ‘a bit,’ nori.” polnareff chides. “this is why i asked.”
“what’s second to you?”
“y’know, hand stuff.”
“oh, god—then no, not that. not even close.” kakyoin meets the other’s gaze again. “see, this is why the bases are stupid.”
“whatever,” polnareff waves his hand dismissively. “i’m just glad that something is finally happening.”
kakyoin nods, though he returns to idly stirring his tea while he thinks. while they hadn’t put an official label on anything—or really done much discussion, other than mutually agreeing that they wanted to kiss again—they definitely appear to be on the same or similar pages regarding their relationship. it’s… something more than friends. they’re in too deep now, regardless of potential work-related consequences. something in kakyoin wonders if jotaro is perhaps unaware of the intricacies of school district politics, if he wouldn’t be interested in developing their relationship if he knew that it was against unofficial rules of kakyoin’s workplace. if he’d feel uncomfortable putting a strain on his career, or a difficulty in jolyne’s life.
jotaro certainly hadn’t seemed to care in the moment. it’s just weird when things are still not set in stone, when the situation is unclear—but that’s how most relationships go, right? when he’d dated dio, they didn’t sit down and define every aspect of their relationship—it just kind of happened— and that has been his only serious relationship historically. meeting people is hard, after all, especially as an adult. kakyoin gets the feeling that jotaro is similarly experienced in the dating realm—that is, knowing little to nothing, as it’s presumably only harder to meet people when you have a small child at home.
“when are you going to meet up next?” polnareff speaks up again, pulling kakyoin from his thoughts.
they hadn’t discussed it—in fact, they hadn’t discussed anything since jotaro left, other than a brief text assuring kakyoin that he arrived home safely. he’s probably still sleeping—kakyoin had gathered that he was still catching up on sleep from completing his missed work, not to mention that it’s a little early for most people on the weekend.
ultimately, he shrugs, glancing up from his tea to look at his neighbor again. “i don’t know yet.”
“you don’t know?”
“we haven’t talked about it yet.”
“text him!”
“right now?”
“yes!” polnareff exasperatedly throws out his arms. “can never be too eager.”
kakyoin sighs—but he knows that face. he knows that gesture. he knows his friend—if he doesn’t concede and message jotaro right now, he’ll never hear the end of it—and next thing he knows, polnareff would find some way to grab his phone and message him himself. begrudgingly, he pulls out his cell, typing a quick text.
[kakyoin]: good morning! 🙂
“there, i sent something. happy?”
polnareff gives a huff, revealing that he was looking over kakyoin’s shoulder. “that barely counts. send him a ‘can’t wait to see you again,’ with a winky face or something.”
“mind your business, pol.”
kakyoin is relieved that jotaro must indeed be sleeping or otherwise unavailable—he doesn’t respond, and for once, that’s a good thing. he’d rather avoid his friend continuing to insert himself into his relationship situation—as much as he loves polnareff, he can be a little much, especially when things are still fresh and uncertain.
… but even still, jotaro’s silence doesn’t keep kakyoin from thinking about him. from thinking about tangling his fingers into the curls of jotaro’s hair, about the taste of his lips, about the feeling of his hands on kakyoin’s body—
kakyoin hears his phone vibrate on the table, pulling his attention down to it—he can’t help but notice polnareff’s gaze following, as if waiting for his opportunity to read the update, too. he rolls his eyes, but picks up the device regardless, swiping to the message.
it’s not like he anticipates any universe in which jotaro is suddenly sending him anything sensitive.
[jotaro]: hey
[jotaro]: how are you
“awwh, how sweet.” the smile in polnareff’s voice over his shoulder is unmistakable. kakyoin just shakes his head, ignoring him as he types.
[kakyoin]: i’m good!
[kakyoin]: did you sleep well?
[jotaro]: yeah finally
[jotaro]: what about you
“tell him you would have slept better next to him,” polnareff speaks up as kakyoin begins to type his response. he chooses to ignore this suggestion.
[kakyoin]: pretty well
[kakyoin]: it was a good evening 🙂
[jotaro]: it was
“say ‘when can we do it again,’ come on,” polnareff whines, “i’m starving over here, you guys are so boring.”
“you don’t have to watch, if we’re ‘ so boring.’” kakyoin rolls his eyes again. “you’re lucky i haven’t left yet.”
they both look down, surprised when his phone vibrates again.
[jotaro]: really busy this week but you should come over next weekend
[jotaro]: if you want to
[jotaro]: its my turn to host
kakyoin can’t help the small grin that tugs at his lips—it feels good for jotaro to be the one initiating something like this, not to mention specifically inviting him to his house. the last time he had been there wasn’t too long ago, but it was under odd circumstances where he had been more focused on jotaro and his wellness.
polnareff coos next to him again. “he’s so into you, nori.”
“what?”
“just read that. he’s trying to appear nonchalant, but he’s smitten.” polnareff crosses his arms with a grin, satisfied.
“you’re reading too far into it, for sure.” kakyoin rolls his eyes. “don’t be ridiculous.”
“what’s not to love? face it, you’re a catch.”
kakyoin snorts as he looks down at the phone again to reply. “well, i’ll give you that one.”
[kakyoin]: sounds great!
[kakyoin]: i’d love to
[jotaro]: cool
[kakyoin]: do you have any ideas for what we’ll do?
polnareff gives another tsk, tsk. “you’re missing out on so many opportunities for good one liners and innuendos.”
“like what?”
“you could have said, ‘i have a few ideas of what we could get up to,’ or something like that.” he sighs. “and you’re sending entirely too few winky faces.”
“maybe that’s not the vibe i’m trying to portray, pol, you ever think of that?”
“no. never.”
kakyoin is about to chastise him to get his brain out of the gutter, but he’s distracted by a response popping up.
[jotaro]: yeah
[kakyoin]: … yeah?
[kakyoin]: wanna share with the class?
[jotaro]: no
[jotaro]: :)
“oh!” polnareff gives a soft gasp. “he’s on the same page as me.”
“shut up,” kakyoin shoves him away. “you’ve lost your reading privileges.”
it takes some time to convince polnareff that he really needs to go back home now—partially because he has work to do, and partially because he doesn’t want his friend to continue butting in. when he finally gets back to his apartment and closes the door, he barely takes two steps in before zeroing in on his phone.
[kakyoin]: why not?
[jotaro]: theyre uncreative
[jotaro]: open to suggestions
kakyoin thinks for a moment—it’s unclear what exactly he means by that. on one hand, maybe polnareff is right; it could be seen as suggestive, flirtatious. at the same time, he’s fairly certain that jotaro is referring to the fact that they always do the same stuff—go to a restaurant or order takeout, drink wine, watch a movie or play video games. it’s fine and fun—but maybe something different would be fun, too.
[kakyoin]: i have a weird idea
[jotaro]: shoot
[kakyoin]: what if we cooked something together?
[kakyoin]: to redeem the lasagna and prove we’re actually competent adults
there’s something about the idea that’s endearing in his mind—perhaps that it’s exactly the kind of thing that would happen in a cheesy romcom, but even still, it feels… cute. right. fun. even if neither of them are particularly good at it.
[jotaro]: risk burning my house down again?
[kakyoin]: shut up, you ass
[kakyoin]: i was distracted! but the recipe was fine
[kakyoin]: you seem like you can follow directions pretty well
[jotaro]: yeah
[jotaro]: i can be your sous chef
[kakyoin]: we don’t have to, just an idea
[jotaro]: no
[jotaro]: i want to
[kakyoin]: great!
[kakyoin]: it’s a date 🙂
the message stands alone—it’s almost like he’d been possessed for a moment, officially slapping the “date” label on top of their hangout for the first time. it doesn’t look like something he’d said, it doesn’t seem like he actually sent it, he should take it back—
[jotaro]: yeah
[jotaro]: its a date
… and thank god he didn’t.
grocery shopping with jotaro wasn’t really on kakyoin’s bingo card, but he can’t really complain—not when the whole thing feels oddly domestic, kind of cutesy, as they peruse the aisles together.
for some reason, he’d had the bright idea to try to make maki rolls together—something that they couldn’t burn, at least, but that could still be fun. absolute worst case scenario, they can eat their food as rice bowls in the end. plus, he’d always wanted to try. it’s a win-win-win, in his book.
jotaro seemed less sure, but the moment kakyoin mentioned the challenge aspect— “what, are you scared i’ll be better at it than you?” —he had jumped onboard. of course, sushi ingredients weren’t staples in his household, and thus, they ended up in the grocery together, jotaro holding the basket, looking inquisitively at the varieties of nori on the shelf in front of them, deeply considering their options.
“has it ever occurred to you that your students call you mr. seaweed?”
… he had appeared to be considering their options, at least.
“you know, i’ve never really thought about it.” kakyoin can’t help but laugh at the implication. “it’s just based on a childhood nickname. it seemed easier for them to say.”
it’s a bit sadder than that, in reality— nori was what his parents always called him, so when he’d picked a new name for himself, it was less disheartening to keep that part in his name. in the time he still kept in contact with them, at least, it wouldn’t be a repetitive deadnaming experience. nori is still accurate, for noriaki or otherwise. that was years ago, though—and he thankfully can’t dwell on it too long, not when jotaro is tilting his head inquisitively, opening his mouth to speak again.
“your parents called you seaweed?”
“sometimes.” kakyoin shakes his head. “come on, surely you had a silly nickname as a kid, too?”
the other thinks for a moment. “... i guess jojo is kind of silly.”
“jojo?!” it feels foreign on his tongue, so blatantly unfitting for the man in front of him now. he supposes that makes sense—it’s something he was called as a kid, not as a grown man—but even still, it’s hard to imagine jotaro ever befitting something like jojo as a title. “that’s… cutesy.”
jotaro is cute, though, especially as he hastily turns his attention back to the shelves. “it’s not seaweed, so.”
“shut up,” kakyoin gives a soft punch to his shoulder. “pick your stupid nori and let’s move on. jojo.”
they continue along the aisles, selecting various items to fit their individual preferences—though, as it turns out, they have relatively similar tastes. at the very least, it makes the shopping easier. it’s not until they’ve almost got everything that kakyoin feels eyes on him—a weird, impending feeling that he’s being watched.
he turns, making eye contact with a woman—a woman he vaguely recognizes, someone that he’s certainly met before, but that he can’t place a name for.
“mr. kakyoin?” she speaks when they meet gazes, beginning to walk towards him. “it’s stacy—i’m henry’s mom.”
recognition lights in his eyes, nodding. “ah, yes, mrs. abbott. how are you?” he puts on a smile—not particularly genuine, but hopefully convincing nonetheless. it’s another classic case of bumping into parents in public—uncomfortable, but manageable.
“i’m fine…” he notices her gaze shift—looking more to the man awkwardly standing next to him, holding their shared basket. “you look familiar—are you… jolyne kujo’s dad?”
of course—mrs. abbott was one of the more involved parents, a stay-at-home mom that often served as a chaperone. kakyoin thinks he particularly remembers her being on that science field trip to the aquarium—at least one instance where she could have met jotaro.
he seems shocked to be recognized, however, taken aback by the implication. “uh… yeah.”
“i thought so.” mrs. abbott hums. “you know, i don’t forget a face, mr. kujo.”
“well, um—” kakyoin speaks up, voice tentative. he feels anxiety tingling his spine, nervousness settling in at the idea of her putting pieces together. “we’ll let you get back to your shopping.”
there’s a lot of uncertainty here—there’s too much room for vague interpretation. kakyoin isn’t necessarily closeted, but he’s also not quite out to every parent—you never know which ones could be homophobic, bigoted, what have you. what if mrs. abbott is one of them? or what if there’s something else—what if she thinks they’re together, what if she thinks he’s giving special treatment to jolyne? what if she passes this concern along to higher-ups?
her expression as she looks upon jotaro is difficult to read. “... well. it was nice to see you, mr. kakyoin.”
“ah… likewise.” kakyoin nods, watching her round the corner of the aisle, disappearing from their sight.
jotaro moves next to him, reaching for the shelf to add rice vinegar to their basket—the whole reason they came down this aisle. for a moment, kakyoin is still frozen there—considering the implications, making assumptions, wondering if this was going to already affect his work—
“think we got everything.” jotaro speaks, leaning forward to wave a hand in front of kakyoin’s face. “you okay?”
“hm? oh, yeah.” he shakes his head as if to clear it, forcing his own lips into a smile. this isn’t the time—he and jotaro are going to have a fun evening, and he certainly can’t change what just happened. thinking about it too much is just going to make him worry more about something that isn’t even confirmed. “let’s get out of here.”
the drive back to jotaro’s home offers a much needed chance to forget about the interaction—for the forced smile to feel more genuine, for mrs. abbott to be lost somewhere in the back of his mind. it slowly continues to fade, through bringing in their bounty to jotaro’s home, through jotaro trying to find where he’d put his rice cooker in the new kitchen.
kakyoin had reminded him that the kitchen could hardly be called “new,” if he’s lived here for months, but jotaro had argued that with how little he cooks, it might as well be.
rice cooker running, there’s really only one thing they can do in the meantime—cut up their maki fillings.
“do you have any strong feelings about what you prep?” kakyoin asks, glancing at the ingredients before them.
“why would i?” jotaro tilts his head.
“i dunno,” he shrugs, eventually giving a small laugh. “you’re a marine biologist, i thought maybe the tuna would make you sad.”
jotaro scoffs, shaking his head. “what, like i wouldn’t cut it, but i’d be fine with eating it?”
“... that’s a good point.”
the other gives a quiet huff of laughter, but eventually, he shrugs. “you cut the fish. i’ll start on the veg.”
they fall into a comfortable silence, then, as they gather their respective items and begin their work. knives hit the cutting boards at a slow rate, both of them clearly unpracticed with the tools.
“... were you nervous about that mom?” jotaro breaks the silence, much to kakyoin’s surprise.
“nervous? what? why would i be nervous?”
“don’t know, you just seemed… off.” jotaro shrugs as he slices another strip of cucumber. “think i know you pretty well, by now.”
kakyoin sighs softly, thinking through his next words. “i… was a little nervous about it. just because—you know, i don’t know her personally. maybe she’d have an issue with it.”
“... with us… shopping together?”
“well, i meant more the implications she could take from that.” kakyoin gives a soft laugh. “that we’re… you know… whatever we are.”
jotaro gives a hum, nodding. it doesn’t feel good to leave it at that—”whatever we are”—but he doesn’t know what else to call it. he figures that jotaro could probably get his intentions, and that it’s more out of uncertainty than any sort of malice. they’re quiet again for some time, just slowly prepping the maki fillings.
“... is it a problem?” jotaro finally asks.
“what, us?”
he nods.
kakyoin sighs, staring intensely at the fish in front of him. “... i mean, it could be.”
jotaro hums again, thinking—when kakyoin looks over, he could swear that the other almost seemed disappointed, or otherwise upset by this revelation.
“—but, to clarify, i don’t… like, i’m not saying i don’t want to… you know, like, i’m here.”
“yeah?”
“yeah, i—i mean, to be honest, i think i’m in a little too deep to back out now.”
“what do you mean by that?” jotaro’s voice is soft as he looks away from his task, meeting kakyoin’s gaze.
“i… i really like you, jotaro.” kakyoin is surprised at how quickly he’s able to put his feelings into words, how he barely even hesitates. something holds his eyes there, linked with jotaro’s—while he’s feeling a little bashful, like he should look away, he can’t. “it’s a little too late to be worried about external stuff.”
he barely registers that jotaro has set down his knife before he feels lips against his own; kakyoin hastily drops his own tool with a muffled clatter before reaching up to snake his arms around jotaro’s neck. it’s invigorating, the feeling that jotaro is so eager to kiss him, and it feels like nothing could ever top it—not until the other pulls away to speak.
“... think i do, too.”
“you think?”
“i’m… not good at this.” jotaro presses his lips into a fine line, deliberating for a moment. “it’s hard for me to put into words.”
“you should try,” kakyoin murmurs. “for me.”
he’s quiet for a bit, but ultimately, he opens his mouth to speak again. “... i don’t know what’s going on in my head. but… i think about you a lot. about what you’re doing, or how your day’s going.”
kakyoin hums, wordlessly urging jotaro to continue—the other appears hesitant, but contemplative, as he considers his next words.
“i’m… clueless.” he finally settles on that phrasing, giving a soft huff of dry laughter. “but i know it’s… different, i guess.”
“different than what?”
“... anything. ” jotaro admits. “anything i’ve ever felt for anyone else.”
‘anything i’ve ever felt for anyone else’ is quite telling—the words worm their way into kakyoin’s brain, making him feel far too light and airy to still be here on earth. and yet, he remains—feet firmly planted on the ground, arms still slung around jotaro’s neck, dumb smile on his lips. it’s so different for him, too; even when he’d first started seeing dio, he didn’t quite feel like this. there had always been a weird undercurrent—he just hadn’t known any better, considering it was his first serious relationship.
this, here and now, feels different—it’s still strange, it’s still a little uncertain, but it also feels so incredibly right.
before kakyoin can respond, the shrill beeping of the rice cooker interrupts. for a moment, they both turn to look at the offending appliance, otherwise unmoving. eventually, kakyoin steps back, letting his arms fall again, stepping towards his cutting board again.
“i’ll finish the fillings, if you season the rice.”
after a brief hesitation, jotaro nods at the suggestion, stepping to the opposite counter to begin tending to the device. kakyoin returns to attempting to cut their fillings—they’re not perfectly neat, but they’re passable, especially when they’ll be wrapped up within the rice and nori, barely visible.
once everything is prepared and set out, they both stand glancing down at the implements, unsure of where to begin.
“let me pull up a guide…” kakyoin comments, reaching for his phone.
“... how hard could it be?” jotaro asks, tilting his head.
“oh, confident now, are we?” he gives a grin, shifting his weight as he looks away from his device. “i didn’t realize you were an expert.”
“fuck off,” jotaro rolls his eyes, but an expert in jotarology like kakyoin is able to notice the humorous glint there. “not an expert, it just seems straightforward.”
“show me, then, maestro,” kakyoin sets his phone down, leaning against the counter. “make me one. like i’m a customer, or something.”
“... fine,” jotaro gives a dry huff of laughter, but he begins to reach for ingredients regardless. the nori goes down, but he very quickly begins to run into a problem when spreading the rice on the sheet—the majority of it sticking to his hands rather than the nori. he furrows his eyebrows.
“... is this your first day on the job?” kakyoin tilts his head inquisitively, continuing to play the part of the client.
“shut up,” jotaro quips, taking a spatula to his hands to attempt to get the rice to stick to the nori.
“i might have to ask for a manager, if you keep talking to me like that.”
“i am the manager.”
it’s almost surprising for jotaro to play along, making a wide grin spread across kakyoin’s lips. “really, now?”
“yeah,” jotaro appears to be satisfied with the amount of rice that remains on the sheet this time, reaching for the other fillings despite some grains still sticking to his hands. “what do you want in it?”
“hm… just tuna and avocado. start easy.”
the actual rolling goes shockingly well—the nori cracks slightly in a few spots, and it isn’t pretty, but for the most part, it’s able to hold everything together. he grabs the knife again, cutting the roll into a few somewhat evenly-sized slices before eventually holding one of them out to kakyoin.
“i don’t think hand-feeding customers is appropriate, sir.”
“eat the damn sushi.”
kakyoin grins, finally opening his mouth and allowing jotaro to feed him the partially falling apart slice. it’s good—it’s simple, after all, and he had been fairly certain that even they couldn’t have fucked it up—but something about getting the first piece hand-delivered to his mouth probably makes it even more tasty. his expression must reveal as much; jotaro nods, holding out his hands.
“see? it wasn’t hard.”
kakyoin raises his eyebrows, glancing at the hands in question. “the many rice grains still stuck to your hands say otherwise.”
“you do better, then.”
and kakyoin tries—google informs him that keeping your hands moist is the key to keeping the rice from sticking, but he has more trouble than jotaro getting the roll to actually roll properly—leading his first attempt to turn into something more akin to a nori sandwich than a maki roll. regardless, they eat without complaint—the ingredients are good, and the fun part is the laughter at each other’s failed attempts and eating the misshapen fruits of their labor.
the thing about spending time with jotaro is that kakyoin feels like anything can become fun. grocery shopping was fun. video games were, of course, fun. even something as mundane as painting jolyne’s bedroom was a fun experience, something that they somehow made into a hangout. this is no exception—kakyoin has hopped up to sit on the counter, drying dishes that jotaro hands him after washing. they find things to chat about—anything and everything. they talk about the sushi. they talk about how jotaro’s house is becoming more and more like a home—a cozy space, mostly thanks to kakyoin’s insistent efforts.
by the time jotaro hands him the final dish, kakyoin has completely lost track of time—but he finds that he doesn’t really care to know how many hours have passed. he doesn’t need to know how late it’s gotten, because that’ll make him realize he should head home, and he just… isn’t quite ready to do that yet, despite the fact that he’s growing tired.
regardless, it feels right to mention it, to allow jotaro the space to kick him out. “... it’s getting kind of late, huh?”
jotaro looks out of the window beside them, as if just then realizing how dark it had gotten outside, before responding. “... so it is.” despite this, jotaro doesn’t seem keen on making him leave—he dries off his hands, leaning sideways against the counter to look at kakyoin. “do you need to head home?”
“not… necessarily. ” kakyoin taps his fingers against the counter next to him. “i don’t have any plans tomorrow, or anything. but… it’s late.” as if on queue, he brings up a hand to cover his mouth, attempting to stifle an unfortunately-timed yawn. “i don’t want to leave, but…”
jotaro’s face lights up—only slightly, but enough for kakyoin to notice—before he nods. “i don’t… want you to leave, either.”
“i can hang around a bit longer.”
jotaro seems to think about these words for a long moment, considering their options before opening his mouth to speak. “if you want, you could just… stay the night. my bed’s plenty big.”
whatever kakyoin expected, it wasn’t that. he has to consciously tell himself to close his gaping mouth, completely and utterly shocked and flabbergasted. he’s not sure exactly why; it’s not a ridiculous leap to sleep in a bed together, though no matter what his intentions are, the implications of inviting kakyoin into his bed are pretty obvious. even if completely chaste, there’s something intimate and personal about being invited into jotaro’s room, jotaro’s bed. though he’d seen the space before, it was under different circumstances; kakyoin had simply been caring for him, and he’d hardly spent time in there at all, much less gotten into his bed.
despite the racing thoughts sending a roller coaster of emotions loop-de-looping through his chest, he isn’t conflicted in the slightest—he knows what he wants, and what he wants is to fall asleep next to jotaro, to wake up next to him in the morning.
“yeah,” kakyoin breathes, “i’d like that.”