False Confidence ; Jotakak

I'm in Love With a Drug and it Loves me too

In the hotel bar, I drank until my vision was rendered useless. As predicted, the red car was a setup. A bizarre stand that could contort, shoot gasoline, and terrorise. I'm still not exactly sure how he did it, but Jotaro had defeated our foe with the use of sleight of hand, or sleight of body, rather. I saw it with my own eyes. Jotaro was set alight by Wheel of Fortune. I swear on my life, I saw him go up in flames. I saw his flesh melt as he collapsed on the ground. But somehow, it was a stunt. A stunt that fooled us all, even Wheel of Fortune. He let his guard down, and that's what got him. Jotaro, he came back, rose from the ashes, the phoenix, and pulverised our enemy. But although it was all a game, although the only thing that was destroyed was Jotaro's jacket, the image of his death was still burnt into my mind. The sound of the man's grandfather wailing in grief at the sight choked me. The only thing that restored my sanity was the memory of the moment when the illusion was broken and the knowledge that Jotaro was resting upstairs. 

As soon as we arrived in the city, I got my drinking licence to purchase alcohol in a country where it was otherwise banned. Because of the ban, the supplies were limited, no cherry brandy. I drank Smirnoff with water on my own in the dark of the hotel basement. I heard a familiar cough as Mister Joestar came to sit next to me. "Doing alright, kid?" He asked.

I couldn't bring myself to say yes, plus it'd be a blatant lie; I'd drank about 300mls of Vodka on my own in the last hour; I might pass out any minute at this rate. "I've been better," I muttered. Mister Joestar poured himself a shot and chased it with water. 

"Ugh," He groaned. "Tastes like goddamn paint thinner." I forced a smirk. "Where's Jotaro?" He asked.

"In our room," I said. "He's not doing too well." I took another shot. "He needed some time alone."

"Did he say that?"

I remembered back to when we got to the room. Jotaro was in a bad state. He had first degree burns across his face and neck, second degree burns up his arms and on his back. As I was unpacking my things, I watched him look at himself in the mirror. He frowned, self-conscious of the way he looked after taking such damage. He went to take his shirt off. "Uh, fuck!" He hissed.

"You alright?" This was probably the worst injured Jotaro had been so far. Even after he got his shoulder sliced open in Singapore. I was worried. 

"It hurts so fucking bad." He moaned. He couldn't get his shirt off over his back. "And I think it's melted to me. I went over to have a look. It was a fixed fabric t-shirt: cotton and polyester. The polycotton had melted and was stuck in the Jotaro's skin. I winced.

"Hold on, I'll get the first aid kit," I said. 

"Hey," Jotaro said sharply. I froze. 

"Can you help make get this off, first?" He hesitated. He probably didn't want my help; even though we were friends, he wanted to keep to macho persona up. He wouldn't have asked if he wasn't desperate, so I did. Jotaro grabbed on the collar; I grabbed onto the hem. 

"We'll do this in one quick motion, got it?" I said.

"Got it."

We counted down from three. We ripped Jotaro's T-shirt up over his head. He groaned just like he had when he was set alight. We threw the shirt in the corner of the room; once it was off, you could smell the melted flesh; it was repulsive. Although the smell was gross, I didn't feel the same way about Jotaro's body. Looking at his back and he was hunched over, moaning. I admired each layer of skin, each bubble of puss, each blood-blister. It was an illustration of his bravery. It was going to leave one hell of a scar, but at least it told a story. 

When Jotaro caught his breath, he murmured. "Is it bad?" 

I had to be honest with him, but I hesitated. "A little, yeah."