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guzmanumberonefan · 8 months ago

Text

wrap me up (take me home).

featuring. jotaro kujo/reader, implied jotakak/reader (past)

word count. 1.04k

synopsis. ten years after cairo, you pay a visit to a gravesite. thankfully, you aren't alone.

content. implied jotakak/reader, major sdc spoilers, mentions of death, gender-neutral reader, cemeteries, fluff, minor angst

merry ficmas masterlist.

You dream of Cairo one night.

You all sleep under the stars. The deserts get unspeakably cold during the nights, but you and Kakyoin make a sleepy cuddle-pile with Jotaro sandwiched between all of you, and though he grumbles and laments his lack of personal space, he doesn't push at either of you with anything near his full strength. Even at just seventeen he could've pummelled you both into chum. But he didn't, and he doesn't, so Kakyoin nuzzles into his side and you wrap yourself around one toned arm and start to point out constellations above you.

"How strange is it," Kakyoin says softly. "We're looking at the same sky as our parents back in Japan. They can all see the same stars as us."

Jotaro casts him a flat look from under the dark hair that tumbles over his forehead. "Don't get all sentimental when I'm trying to sleep."

"Sorry, sorry," Kakoyin relents with a breathy laugh as you tut and elbow Jotaro in the ribs for his crudeness. "I just... do you suppose we'll be home, soon?"

You bite your lip. You taste stray grains of sand and the kushari you'd eaten for dinner. "Dio can't hide forever," is what you conjure up when it becomes clear Jotaro won't answer. The boy in the middle stares up at the shimmering sky, blue eyes contemplative, softer than you usually see them.

You go to sleep seventeen years old and whole.

You wake twenty-eight, and it's cold.

Not the same sort of cold you'd find in an Egyptian desert at night. This one is clinical and smells of lemongrass air refresher; the air conditioning of your fancy hotel bleaches the oxygen in the room and makes your hair stand on end, and you irritably get out of bed to switch it off. Japan gets cold enough in January as it is, you don't need it and it's a total waste of resources, anyway.

At least you're only here for a couple of days.

You find Jotaro in the bathroom, skin gleaming, fresh-washed. He's dressed already, white suit luminescent against his skin, but for all his care to look put together you can see the circles stretching under his dull eyes, dark and deep.

"Morning," you conjure up. He nods.

"You slept okay?"

"Not really." You hoist yourself up onto the bathroom counter with a sigh. "I dreamed of Cairo."

Jotaro's shoulders stiffen. For a moment, you think he won't answer—but then he drops his eyes and mutters, "Me, too."

"Stars?"

"...Yeah."

You let the silence ruminate for a moment before hopping back to your feet with a deep sigh. "Come on, then. I'm freezing, I want a shower."

You wash and dress in simple black clothes. It feels appropriate for the day—it is one of mourning and respect, after all. And you've always sort of liked dressing in a polar opposite way to Jotaro. It calls attention to the both of you, draws eyes in the street, reminds you that you're still here, alive, still together and in love. You didn't die a thousand miles away from home.

Not like him.

Kakyoin's hometown is small and modest, and the same goes for the cemetery. You don't have to look for his headstone—you two come here every year on January sixteenth, after all. You pick your way across the grass silently, and you stoop down to press hydrangeas against the slab of marble.

And it's as it always is. You kneel, Jotaro stands. You both pray for his spirit, though you muse that if he hasn't found peace after eleven years he's probably shit out of luck by now. He's probably keeping himself around out of spite. Smug bastard.

You miss him so, so badly.

You feel his absence every time you wake at Jotaro's side, every time you take his hand and he has one left over, dangling emptily at his side. The age at which Kakyoin died has begun to feel younger and younger as the two of you grow older—and it's not all melancholy. You're married, after all. You're in love, unconditionally. But there is a gap there, too, always has been since that night against Dio eleven years ago.

You stand just as the hard earth is beginning to bite at you, hands shaking. Jotaro notices, because of course he does.

"Cold?" he asks, probably mostly to spare your feelings. You nod, and he grumbles under his breath as he envelopes your hand in one of his huge ones and tucks them deftly into his pocket. Jotaro always runs so, so warm—he was like your personal heater, travelling through planes of desert in winter at night all those years ago.

"You're warm," you tell him fondly. Jotaro casts a sideways look at you as you begin to leave the cemetery, as though trying to gauge if you're making fun of him. But you're not, of course. You're grateful.

After a moment of blank-faced scrutinisation, Jotaro's face softens ever so slightly, the way it sometimes did back in 1989 when he looked over you and Kakyoin, the way it seems to do so much more often these days as he sheds his teenage rage and sullenness.

"Yeah, it's freezing," he grunts, fingers squeezing yours gently. He's always so very gentle with you, always terrified of hurting you. He never could, which is something he has still yet to truly internalise. He's used to breaking things, your Jotaro. If only he knew how fast he'd held the three of you together. "We can catch a flight back to Tokyo tonight."

"Sounds good," you murmur. "We should spend Christmas here one year, you think? Kakyoin always talked about how nice this place was at Christmas."

Jotaro hums. "Not a bad idea. Erm... his mother did say we were always welcome. I dunno."

"I think he would've liked that," you murmur. "Hey. Thanks."

He blinks at you, expression just a touch bewildered. "What for?"

"Warming me up." Your hand squeezes his, lovingly, and Jotaro flushes and turns away, muttering profanity under his breath. You beam as you walk; in some ways, he really hasn't changed at all.

In some ways, neither have you. You're still dreaming of Cairo, staring up at the stars.

#NO STOP #NO #NONOOOOO #💔💔💔💔#jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jotaro x reader #i don’t usually rb x readers but #SNIFFLES #SOBS

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