The fear of the ocean

3 - Bermuda Triangle

3 - Bermuda Triangle

Kakyoin sets down his mug of coffee on the stool next to him. He plants his feet on the ground, then launches himself backwards on his roller chair, the wheels squeak with that unpleasant high pitched whine. He tilts his head left, then right, checking all angles to make sure it was proportional and realistic.

Kakyoin heaves a sigh.

He ended up drawing Jotaro, again. Unintentionally.

It was supposed to be an anatomy study with oil paints for his portfolio. He wanted to practice on back muscles, shoulder to the waist. It was going as planned, until Kakyoin unconsciously added a star birthmark on the left shoulder, along with black, curling hair on the back of the neck. He ended up painting arms, thick and strong, tensed and held up, as if preparing to beat someone down.

It had been 4, soon to be 5, years since Jotaro moved away to pursue marine biology in a foreign land. The first few months, they called each other everyday, then reducing to 5 times a week, 4 times, 3 times, 2 times a week as time wore on. Jotaro was overwhelmed with lectures and intern jobs and a constant mountain of work. Kakyoin was no different. Portfolios to complete, long term projects to perfect and lots and lots of homework from other subjects. First year of university for both of them hit them harder than a rampaging bull. Jotaro had visited a total of about 3 times, once each year except for the fourth (he had that internship going on for him) and he would drop by to see Kakyoin after catching up with his mother. Kakyoin remembers dragging Jotaro to his house to play video games he knew Jotaro absolutely sucked at, then cooking up some instant ramen like the teenagers they were, then maybe movie marathon the night away or visit the beach.

However, they only went once when Jotaro came to visit for his first year.

After they reached the beach, Kakyoin realized that he was afraid of the ocean. Even though he was fine when they visited the year before with Polnareff, Avdol and Mr Joestar, he was suddenly petrified.

He even remembered Jotaro trying to convince him to step in, coaxing him, as if Kakyoin were a little child. Kakyoin also remembers grabbing onto Jotaro's arm for dear life as they stepped waist deep into the water.

He also remembers the horrible feeling of Jotaro slowly let him go. The waves felt overwhelming, 10 times larger, 10 times more menacing, all the intent to kill in the world trapped in those dark waters, threatening to swallow Kakyoin up. To be thrown around in the sea, only to be shoved back by the current into the face of barnacle-infested rocks to face another wall of water.

The worst riptide.

The events after that were foggy in his memory. All he knew for sure was that he had taken off, running, swimming as fast as he could, back to shore.

Jotaro never asked Kakyoin to snorkel with him again.

Kakyoin stood up, dropping a cloth over the canvas to prevent dust from settling onto the painting. He wasn't sure why he was so afraid. The ocean wasn't something to fear. Well, there were plenty reasons, but, out of the blue? Just suddenly being afraid? Kakyoin pours the rest of his coffee down his throat and leaves the art room. It was about time he turned in.

Jotaro checked the clock that sat haphazardly on top of his stacked books, 1.29 am. The too tiny desk was littered with textbooks and notes, all dangling off the sides of the desk. Makeshift paperweights cluttered the tops of the mountains of books and notes. Jotaro runs a hand through his hair, accidentally knocking his hat off his head. His eyes were sore, the sickly yellow light of the dingy table lamp made his eyeballs ache all the way to the cornea. His back was killing him from sitting hunched over too long, his legs had gone numb hours ago from the lack of movement. Even so, he had only done a mere half of his assignments. His professors were true slave drivers. Assignments were stacked high upon tabletops, graded work scheduled and squeezed in between aforementioned assignments and projects from other subject work. Not to mention extra work from that internship he so proudly snagged.