the relation of art and pain | jotakak

xii

As he walks his usual route back to his dorm, Kakyoin notes how improved his mood is, compared to last week. He had said quite a bit more than he had meant to ever say to Jotaro, but his shoulders felt a little lighter after the man left that night. In the end, he learned that Jotaro enjoys Clint Eastwood and Toshinobu Kubota, and loves animals.

Kakyon smiles to himself thinking about it. Jotaro's eyes light up when he talks about marine biology. When conversations slow, he has started to interject with an interesting fact or two. He always gives Kakyoin that handsome, broad smile that he loves whenever he asks about his research papers and classes. In truth, he does not have much of an interest in the subject; but he would give anything to see Jotaro so happy.

Marine biology is his passion. As Kakyoin unlocks the door to his dorm, his mood wavers. He misses the lock on his first try.

He wishes he could be passionate about something.

Everything in his life is so dull. His smile disappears as he hangs his bag on a chair. Nothing has had color since that day. The day he avoids thinking about in detail, the day he skimmed over with Jotaro and has not been able to stop remembering since; the day he got his eyes slashed. In truth, the color had been fading for far longer. When they threw him to the ground, though, it splattered around him, leaving Kakyoin completely gray.

He hugs himself. His eyes flicker to where his pills rest in a cabinet above the counter, but he cannot recall if he took them today or not. You don't want to overdose, he thinks.

A quiet voice replies that maybe he should either way.

Kakyoin's frown deepens. He chews his bottom lip, standing and staring at the cabinet handle. His scars hurt. He wants to hold his face, to hide from the dull pang in his eyes — in his temples, in his head — but it's too much work. The most he can manage to do is lay down on his bed and hug his pillow to his chest. It is too familiar to how he laid down and took it three years ago, took it until he could not breathe. Took it until he felt blood dribbling down his chin and his chest was on fire and through his cracked eyes, he saw jade green.

He attributes the fact that he tried to sit up to Heirophant. He had blindly felt for the dropped switchblade on the ground beside him and threatened the boys away with it, through his dying vision and bloody coughs. Sometimes he believes he has never felt so vulnerable. Other times he feels that he has not stopped feeling vulnerable since then.

Having his eyes closed makes it too easy to replay that day in his mind, and so he opens them. His heart races at first, for he sees red and he feels cold. Kakyoin has to blink to make it go away, but he grows uneasy, curling his legs up, hugging his pillow with his whole body. The phantom pain of a broken rib and slashed eyes set in, and he grimaces into the pillowcase. There is nothing physically wrong with him after all this time. Somehow, though, this hurts worse than it did the first time.

He struggles for something that will make this better, anything that will take his pain away. He is desperate for it. Once the voices become too loud to drown out, there is nothing he can do but suffer through it, like a painful muscle cramp. He can only question why him, why he must live through this when it feels as if no one else in the world has to. He forces himself into thoughts of Jotaro, but in his slowly panicking state, he can only think of how envious he is of the man's life.

The first sob brings with it shame. Kakyoin hates having to cry. If he cannot control something as simple as his tears, he may as well give up on the rest of it. The thought does not come to him in his own inner voice, but a different one. Although he cannot say it is true, he thinks it may be the boy whose kick did his rib in. And then, as if whatever it is knew he had found it out, more chime in. Voices he's heard on television, voices of people that he knows; Kakyoin resigns to shedding tears into the pillowcase until he falls asleep.

-

He awoke hours later, as the sun was beginning to set. Jean had likely came and gone for his evening classes. Surprisingly sober after waking up, Kakyoin could only think of how convenient that is for Jean. His own classes are rather sporadic this time of week. It annoyed him.

The unpleasant mood served as a gateway for his sadness to resurface. In a moment of weakness, he had called Jotaro and asked if he was free.

Kakyoin felt ashamed when he answered the door, but as Jotaro listened to him, he could not deny that some weight lifted. Now, with Jotaro's arm around his waist and Kakyoin's head on his shoulder, the redhead lets out a relieved sigh.

Jotaro's calm demeanor is grounding. Kakyoin has learned that when things begin to go wrong, his best bet is to find something real to focus on, to anchor his mind to. Jotaro is very good for that. He cannot decipher whether the voice that tells him that is selfish belongs to himself or not. Instead of obsessing over it further, he snuggles into Jotaro's side.

He was in control enough to not ramble on about all his issues. Jotaro only knows that he had another bad day, he wanted to see him, and he explained, in brief, a minor dispute during his marketing class. The latter was true — he does not get along with the woman who sits next to him in that class. Being the rejects, the two still end up working together despite the fact that she cannot stand him.

Jotaro had taken it all in, grunting now and then or frowning his sympathy. He held Kakyoin's hand the entire hour he spent talking. In the silence, Kakyoin begins to wander if Jotaro will ever know what goes on inside his head. Maybe he already knows.

"You think it would make you feel better if we did something?" Jotaro finally asks.

"It depends," Kakyoin says.

"You know about that art showing in town?"

"I heard about it."

"Maybe we could... go," Jotaro offers. "If you want to."

Kakyoin lifts his head, gives Jotaro a smile. It must look tired, but it's a smile nonetheless. "I'd love to."

To be honest, the only reason he plans to go is to be with Jotaro. He thinks of his woes earlier today, of how deep and intense his craving to have something he is passionate about is. He almost does have that something, but art is a complex matter. Rather than dealing with his inhibitions and fears, he kisses Jotaro's cheek and thanks him for being there when he needed him.