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The ache is overwhelming sometimes, often at night, whipping through him like the draft in the window, and Okuyasu curls his fingers into his pillow and grasps for his sheets with his other arm, but he's kicked them off his mattress. The floor is inches away but he's small and weak in this nearly-sleeping state and all he can do is long, quietly, for something unnamed that nests behind his ribs.
The morning heat evaporates everything but this.
---
"What are you doing this summer?" Josuke had asked with his hands flat on the concrete ledge, while Okuyasu's fingers curled into the chain link.
"You know. Just working."
Josuke nodded, unsure why he asked, when that's just what Okuyasu did, on breaks, and after school.
"What do you want to do this summer?" Josuke rephrased, grinning. "If you could do anything."
"Aw man, I don't know," Okuyasu grabbed the chain link and leaned back and forth away from it. The sun reflected off the concrete around him and he closed his eyes. Josuke said something about going to one of the islands off the coast. "I dunno Josuke, I mean I can just go to Morioh beach... this town's got all the shit I need, right?"
"Yeah, I guess," Josuke said, eyeing the school's entrance below, then out across the field. "I just wanna do something cool, you know? Something grand. Before I get chewed out by university," Josuke says with mock bitterness, his expression was one of ease when he turned to Okuyasu, who nodded excitedly. "Dunno what though," he added, turning around and leaning against the fence.
"You're gonna go to university?" Okuyasu asked. "Did you study?"
"Maaaaan, I got time before the next exams."
No sense of jealousy or resentment, only a bewildered sort of reverence, one that Okuyasu rarely felt anymore, now that friendship had become a normal part of his life, but it reared its head now and then, when Josuke spoke of things that Okuyasu rarely ever thought about, and it wasn't that they were, in their natural form, worth revering, but Josuke could mention them so lightly, and that was what struck him. Like someone listing off their favourite food.
"I wanna do something that'll make my mom happy. I wanna get a job, but I feel like, I gotta get a handle on my future, right? I can work in school, but shit, I gotta go to school. Plus... my dad..." Josuke groaned and kicked his toe against the ledge. "I think it'd just make 'em all happy."
"Your mom's gonna be happy with you no matter what you do, dude."
Josuke laughed again. "Shit," he grinned in agreement and ran his hand through the back of his hair. "Well, you know. I gotta get her back for raising me and all."
"Yeah, I feel you."
"Yeah?" Josuke looked over, tilting his head. "Yeah."
"I think my dad's happy with me... I dunno..."
"Nah, of course, I'm sure he is too," Josuke said with his hand on Okuyasu's shoulder. Josuke didn't mention Okuyasu's family much without invitation, and let Okuyasu drive the conversation when he did. It was rough at first, when Keicho disappeared from school; it was the most attention Okuyasu had received and he wasn't sure what to do with it. Slowly, things normalised. Settled. Two years had passed since then and now there he was in the summer uniform, arms and what scars there were, bared. Josuke didn't have to ask questions.
"I thought maybe he'd like... I don't know... I guess change? At all?" Okuyasu said of his father. "I mean, with all this over, I dunno why I expected it, I guess I can't help it." Below them, the bell rang. "Like so much shit can happen, like time can pass and I'll still be like, 'hey, dad's not back to normal?'" Okuyasu shrugged under Josuke's hand. "Dumbass."
"You want him back to normal?"
"Yeah, why not?"
"I'm just surprised, I guess. He's in kind of rough shape, and... I just figured you were going to, uh, well, like if he isn't gonna... you know..." Josuke fell quiet, and tapped his fingers against Okuyasu's shoulder, before withdrawing his hand. "I figured you'd at least leave."
"I can't do that, man," Okuyasu said, suddenly somber, his eyes wide.
"So you're just going to stay there forever?" Josuke stares back at him with a nervous sort of anger. "You could die before him, dude." Josuke blurted this out before he could think to catch himself and he lets the words hang in the air, heavy.
"Alright..." Okuyasu finally said. His face was blank, no sadness, hardly anything at all. "He takes good care of Stray Cat." He stepped away from Josuke. "That's something, isn't it?"
"Sure," Josuke relented. It was quiet between them again. Okuyasu wiped the sweat off his brow and then held one hand over the other on the concrete. Josuke whipped a comb from his pocket and adjusted his hair, to little avail-- the summer breeze quickly unwound it.
These instances happened now and then, the times family was mentioned. Sometimes the way Okuyasu seemed so resigned to just stay, to live out his days tending to what seemed like nothing more than a tired old animal, and on top of that, to have hope still that it could change-- It got to Josuke and he'd raise his voice and Okuyasu would usually shrink back, not in body, but in spirit, and change the subject.
School finished, graduation happened, Okuyasu slept over at Josuke's house a few more times, Ms. Higashikata making dinners for them even though they feasted on 7-11 snacks, yelling quickly self-censored obscenities at the TV. Josuke's house was smaller than Okuyasu's but it was clean, nothing broken, maybe stuff had never been broken to begin with, it was hard to tell, with Josuke around. He was good at what he did.
Okuyasu slept on the floor by Josuke's bed. The room smelled good. Not like any one thing in particular, but good. Like Josuke. Like his clothes and hair. Okuyasu's house was musty, he never thought about it until he left for slumber party weekends and came back after school on Monday. Home smells like one thing only, and it's not dust and rot, but Okuyasu didn't know if there was a word for a home that isn't a house, and so he held Josuke's hand for a brief second while the other boy grinned down at him, before turning onto his side to sleep.
Josuke left at the beginning of June and Okuyasu didn't go to the airport with him. It was all carefully arranged, and it was a long trek to the airport anyway, so he stayed behind. 5:45 AM. That's when the plane was supposed to take off and that's when Okuyasu was awake in his room with the dawn easing over his roof and he lay there with his eyes fixed on the sky.
---
It's a quicker bike ride down to the store, but Okuyasu starts taking his skateboard instead, for practise. Maybe when Josuke comes back, he'll want to learn, too. Josuke said he did-- but that was back in May, just before the summer sun started to hang low and heavy, and now it beats on Okuyasu's brow every time he leans out the sliding window to hand a customer their cone.
The thick of summer clinging unrelenting to the Japanese coast where Morioh is stationed, and for a while, Okuyasu thinks of Josuke experiencing the same-- Josuke frustratedly combing the his hair out of his eyes on a balcony neighbouring the Tyrrhenian. Okuyasu doesn't know what that looks like, but in his mind Josuke stands shadowed, with light on his shoulders, rooftops beneath him, and he's framed by all the white and blue... Okuyasu palms his own silver hair down against his head. White and blue and whatever better words there are, for those things.
Nearly every day, Okuyasu wakes up before his alarm, sweaty with his blankets rolled up into a ball that he clutches with one arm, and if he has time, he showers. The rot in the bathroom only gets worse but it wasn't something Josuke had seen too many times-- his familiarity with Okuyasu's house is limited compared to Okuyasu's frequent trips to Josuke's-- so he had never offered to fix it. Okuyasu imagines many conversations. "It's all good," he thinks of himself saying whenever Josuke eagerly offers up his services. Pride is never what holds him back.
"Bye, dad, have a nice day," Okuyasu calls gently, scooping his board from the foyer and closing the door behind him. With a few kicks he's in the street. He's become less and less shocked when people say hello to him-- the old woman who tends to her tomatoes every morning, the man who sits on the bench and writes, and later in the day, any of the kids who are also free for this part of the summer, their yellow hats retired, and all of them wanting ice cream.
---
Okuyasu marvelled at the magnitude of such a graduation gift when Josuke ran up to him to tell him the great news, grabbing him by the shoulders and beaming brightly, inches from Okuyasu's face, while his relatives trickled in after him.
"Yo, this is wild! My dad said he's sending me to Italy for the summer, to meet one of my relatives. He's a big deal over there, I guess, willing to put me up like that. I dunno, but I'm going to fuckin' Italy!"
"Are you for real?" Okuyasu asked shakily, shaky only from trying to understand exactly what this meant. How does one do that? He tried to remember the shape of Italy, how it looked on maps.
"Yeah, man! For real! I can't believe this," Josuke, still gripping one of Okuyasu's shoulders, turned away, his cheek just grazing Okuyasu's nose, and started talking to his family, to his mom and... sister? Okuyasu still wasn't sure on the arrangement but Mr. Kujo was there, and the two caught each other's eye and Jotaro nodded amiably while Josuke talked to the two women.
Jotaro was kind to Okuyasu. He was kind in small ways Okuyasu didn't always see, and kind in ways Jotaro wasn't fully aware of either. No grand gestures, neither of them worked like that-- but he was attentive, and when he visited, he always made time for Okuyasu. He wasn't just here for Josuke's graduation.
"How's your dad," Mr. Kujo asked in a low voice, to separate himself from the other conversation.
"He decided not to come today, but, in a way I'm glad he didn't. I think it'd take a lot out of him and I'd rather he just rest. I'll see him later, and it'll be good."
"Yes." Mr. Kujo reached into his pocket, and hands Okuyasu an envelope. Okuyasu doesn't take it, eyeing it, and eyeing Mr. Kujo. "It's from all of us," Jotaro clarified. He shook it once at Okuyasu, who then took it, slowly. One side of Jotaro's mouth cracked a smile when Okuyasu turned his attention to the envelope. "Open it later."
(It contained a 5000 yen note and some encouraging words from the family. Okuyasu put the money in the bank and wasn't sure what to do with the card. It's folded on his windowsill.)
Josuke's dad was also absent at graduation, which surprised none of them. Ms. Higashikata never met up with him, but understood now that perhaps he could be some small part of Josuke's life, if not hers, and that was fine. And her son ought to travel, really, he had been in Morioh since he was born and if he could go, he should, even if the means to do so were less than entirely savory.
Okuyasu listened to Josuke rattle off facts about Italy, some of which were quietly corrected by Jotaro, who was just as quickly drowned out by Josuke's lively exclamations.
---
The ache stops sometime in August. Okuyasu doesn't notice until Rohan stiffly hands him a glass of ice water before sitting down across from him, resuming a mostly one-sided conversation about kids and how nasty they are, and Okuyasu says he likes them, and wouldn't mind being a parent someday, maybe, I mean, just to pay it forward, you know?, he thinks he could be good at it.
And then he realises that the ache is gone, there's no gaping hole where something is supposed to go and firmly isn't there. Like overcoming a cold, it crept away with no great announcement.
Rohan scoffs and says something dismissive about Okuyasu's father, and Okuyasu chokes out a laugh. He asks about Rohan's parents, they must be proud of him, and Rohan interjects with the fact that they're not very present, ever since he became self-sufficient, but his mother buys all his books. Okuyasu says this is sweet and Rohan swats the words away.
Cicadas in the bushes as the sun crawls towards the horizon. Okuyasu leans back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head.
He's put on more muscle since the summer started, lifting and sorting boxes at work, swimming at the beach, taking care of Rohan's lawn. On his own time, he does pushups and listens to Run DMC and Public Enemy, with Prince sprinkled in, but less so in recent weeks. It's fading.
---
Josuke comes back as a storm rolls in over the ocean, hovering there, the rain not yet ready to enshroud Morioh. Mr. Kujo picks him up and drives him home from the airport. They're all surprised he's there. Okuyasu hears from Josuke's mother when she's at the store that Josuke is returning home, and Okuyasu's lost track of time-- he wonders how long it's been. His immediate reaction is a mix of "Already?" and "When was he last here?"
After he hands in his apron he skates home, staring down the clouds. Passing the railroad crossing, passing the red lights so saturated in the slowly-advancing grey and black. The air is thick with ozone.
Soon after he arrives home, he finds another leak in the roof.
---
He's in Josuke's living room and the rain is drumming outside. Mr. Kujo sits at the table with a cup of coffee. Ms. Higashikata is talking to him about how she always wanted to travel, she got to do some when she was younger, but she likes it here, and she likes hearing stories about other people's travels. Jotaro calmly and concisely mentions some of the safe anecdotes from his time abroad.
Okuyasu's barely listening. It's weird to be here. It's weird to be here, feeling empty. He doesn't want that ache back. He doesn't want to have had it in the first place. When Josuke's face is turned away, Okuyasu stares. They're both tanned by the summer sun, Josuke clearly more burnt, Okuyasu's more even.
He's not a different person, Okuyasu thinks to himself. He's Josuke and you love him, you never didn't. Maybe he found something better overseas. Too big for this town that was never too small for you.
"Dude," Josuke says with wide eyes and matching smile, "are you doing a grunge thing now?" He nods to Okuyasu, who's wearing his black tank underneath a yellow plaid shirt. Okuyasu doesn't know what he means and notices Josuke looking him over. He too looks down, and glances back up, tenting his shirt with his thumb and forefinger.
"This is just what was around," says Okuyasu. "Mr. Kujo gave me a couple bucks to find some better clothes when I went looking for work-- you know, not clothes for school, or ones with like... holes." He kicks one leg up, though, showing the scuffs and rips in his jeans. "These got kinda fucked up. What's grunge?"
"Oh," starts Josuke, unsurprised at his friend but surprised at himself for even mentioning anything, "it's no big deal. It's just. Like. A fashion and music thing. From like, the early 90s."
"Ahh... well, that sounds cool."
Josuke scratches the back of his head, averting his gaze from Okuyasu, who doesn't seem to pick up on the change in tone. Okuyasu mentions something about Rohan.
"Oh, man," Josuke groans, "that piss. Sorry I left you to deal with that."
"He's okay," Okuyasu says, to Josuke's surprise. "He's just weird is all, but he's okay. He doesn't go out much, so I bring him stuff from the store, or go with him to take pictures of shit and draw. I think he just can't... like... I dunno. Maybe he's not good with people."
"That's giving him a lot of credit," Josuke says, but allows it. "Yeah, I guess he's just a nervous little weirdo, but man if he can be a brat, right?" Okuyasu laughs a little at this.
---
"So, bro, I gotta talk to you about something." Josuke's voice is low against the rain. Josuke doesn't do serious very well, like the gravity makes him nervous, too weak under his own weight. He is lightness, and better equipped for it.
"When I was in Italy, I met my... like, my cousin, Giorno. Him, and his friends, and of course Jotaro know a lot about Dio and all, the bow and arrow and shit, right? All that."
"Yeah? Did something happen?" Okuyasu asks. When Josuke hesitates in answering, Okuyasu grows worried. "Are you okay, man?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about me," Josuke says in a way that's meant to be reassuring, but isn't. "It's not about me." He's trying to find something to focus on, unable to meet Okuyasu's gaze with any ease. Josuke gets up from the couch and takes Okuyasu by the hand. "Come on," he says, going for the porch covered by an awning for the summer. Their bare feet still get wet.
"You know how nothing really seemed to work on your dad? Like... to fix him... or..."
"Yeah...? "
"Alright, well... My cousin, he has friends, and connections, right? He's friends with one of Jotaro's buddies and they've done a lot of research... The guy said it's worked on people they've dealt with over there..."
Josuke's hand dives into his pocket and pulls out a wooden box. He doesn't open it, he keeps it in his palm for Okuyasu to take. Okuyasu doesn't take it. He's quiet and his brow begins to furrow in fear and fury. Josuke watches his expression change.
"You..." Okuyasu starts shakily. Josuke's fingers curl back over the box, knowing Okuyasu isn't going to take it from him. "You came back... to... you came back to kill my dad, didn't you?" His voice is a harsh whisper.
Josuke can barely formulate a response.
"You came back to kill my dad?" Okuyasu shouts. "You... came back from your fun fucking trip to kill my dad?" He gesticulates frantically, pleadingly. Josuke rushes forward and moves to clamp his hand over Okuyasu's mouth, but Okuyasu grabs it and keeps it still. Josuke's mom and Jotaro are still inside and for a second, Okuyasu doesn't care, ready to scream.
"Listen, listen to me," Josuke hisses. Okuyasu does, only because he's speechless. "I came back because I was always gonna come back. I didn't know this was going to happen when I got there."
"You're going to kill my dad. You and Mr. Kujo are going to kill my dad and you want me to be okay with that."
"Oku," Josuke exhales, "you can't live like this and neither can he."
"This isn't fucking charity work!" Okuyasu yells back, throwing down Josuke's hand.
"You know I'm right. This isn't what you're supposed to do. This isn't living. You can't take on shit like this constantly! He wouldn't want you to! He probably doesn't want you to! He's fucked up, dude, and it's gonna fuck you up, too."
"So what is living? Jetting off to... to Italy, and, like, I worked all summer, Josuke, I worked, I took care of him, because that is my life! That's my fucking life! It's not yours maybe, but it's not bad!"
"It's not bad." Josuke has tears in his eyes, maybe from stress, maybe not. "It's not bad, I'm sorry, I know shit is rough but it's not bad. You're not... worse... but you're going to get worse if you rot away in that house with that guy. I can't, I cannot believe that he wants you to just stay there until it all caves in. He's never gonna get better. He's never gonna change. And I'm not making any like, judgement calls on your house or anything, I wouldn't do that, but..." Josuke sniffs, blinking. He shakes his head. "I fucking hate it. That place is all broken because of what happened to you. And you can't live there dude, not with the shit that's gone down there, that shit's in the walls, in the floors, it doesn't go away. Crazy Diamond can't cover that up. Neither can you. It's not fair."
Jotaro hears one of them raise their voice and gently excuses himself from the table. He leaves his cup behind and brushes his hand against his pocket-- his smokes are there, yes. He's been trying to quit, but it's a comfort.
Okuyasu looks at him demandingly, in a way Jotaro's never received from him before and Josuke turns his away to hastily wipe at his face.
"You're both suffering and there's a way to fix it," Jotaro says. Pragmatic. Okuyasu wonders how this can be so easy for him. He doesn't know it's not. "I don't know if this is right and I'm not going to make the decision for you. Neither is Josuke. But we'll help you either way."
"I... I think... you... need to help me," Okuyasu rasps. His mind is both racing and blank. His heart both racing at a thousand beats a second, and stopped. Static. "I can't... I don't know..."
He recites, in panic, what Josuke had said. The life he was living now. The life his father was living now. Was his father even alive? Was his father even his father? Only questions with no answers. Somewhere the truth was buried under crooked floorboards and mold in a history covered by slapdash coping.
Jotaro tells Tomoko they'll be back. They get in his car, Okuyasu in the back, alone, by choice, and they're all dripping wet on the seats. Jotaro doesn't care.
---
Scars on his face and on his arms and back and legs. Scrapes and bruises healed over and forgotten. It's easy to forgive blemishes. And it's easy to forgive the hands that put them there when they've changed shape and receded.
Although none of them can tell but Okuyasu, Okuyasu's father recognises Jotaro, and while he may not be able to recognise or feel dread, he can feel some sense of absolution. The man who knows all the answers , or seeks to find them, is here with Okuyasu, his son, who needs only ask the question, and it will be over. His father was familiar with the Hand, and how it got there-- good protection for his son, but an ill-fitting stand, in some ways. Okuyasu's own hands were never made, never meant for breaking. Keicho, in his frantic search for a death that was then already overdue, put that power in Okuyasu's hands without asking. Just another memento.
His father may not consciously remember, and Okuyasu may remember without a shred of spite.
Jotaro can't make the decision on his own. Okuyasu can't make the decision on his own. When you walk the same floor for years until your feet wear into the wood, it can be hard to see up over the rut.
They do it together, with Okuyasu's father, who isn't afraid. Okuyasu puts a hand on his father's small shoulder. There is a tiny response, some glimmer of understanding. His father doesn't fight it. No resisting, no battle before the end. Unintelligible sounds. It's not glamorous.
The strange little box is open.
---
Okuyasu kneels before his father. He only remembers his father's human face attached to a man who beat him and berated him. This monstrous body and its face with no resemblance to the original hasn't hurt him. They'd be two different people if Okuyasu hadn't kept calling him 'dad'.
He remembers it all so suddenly, as tremors, continents colliding, the awfulness of childhood and him becoming his own parent when the ones appointed to the task couldn't measure up. His mother, long dead, and his father, now misshapen and blank, but nonetheless the person Okuyasu takes care of. What other option is there? There's never been any other. How do you let go of family? And why? What are the rules? Who makes them? There was never any future but persisting.
Keicho wanted to put dad out of his misery but Okuyasu could never have done it with him. This was perceived as immaturity by his brother, who grew up fast and didn't look back unless he was slapping Okuyasu around. He was gone now too, as gone as dad, and nothing about it would ever make sense.
When it's done, Josuke, unable to stomach it, is the first to go back outside. The obsessive need to fix is suppressed by knowing it'd be in vain anyway, and he helped bring this, this end. He trips down the porch steps and into the rain. In his father's room, Okuyasu accepts what passes as a hug from Jotaro. It's stiff, not from lack of feeling. Jotaro doesn't say anything, but he brings his hand up to Okuyasu's back, and holds him. Okuyasu is the one to break away, without words, and goes after Josuke.
It's Jotaro alone in the room. He removes his hat, shakes the water off, wipes his brow, fixes the hat back on his head. He'll call the Foundation in the morning. Something on the windowsill distracts him and he steps carefully around the body to investigate.
Jotaro eventually emerges, holding Stray Cat's pot in his folded arms. The creature seems to be sleeping. Jotaro's expression isn't too different from his normal stone, but it seems fitting for the occasion nonetheless.
Okuyasu doesn't know what to say to Josuke. He's not mad at Jotaro. He's not even mad at Josuke. He's afraid. And Josuke is afraid, and that scares him even more. He leaves, comes back, brings death, when he only ever brought life, and he clearly can't handle it, and Okuyasu can't handle it for him.
"You left," said Okuyasu. "I'm not mad because you left. But you left and I took care of my dad, I hung out with Rohan and worked at his house, and I sometimes saw Koichi and Yukako, but they're moving in together, and... People are leaving, people are going places and that's good, but this is what I have." Okuyasu doesn't know if this is the right thing to say. He doesn't know why he's saying it.
Other people, not Jotaro, but other people, sometimes Josuke, say things to make it sound like his life is different, unusual, but he's never thought about it in great detail until graduation loomed and suddenly real life was... real. And all so very different between their friends.
"I don't want to leave again," Josuke exclaims with some struggle. "Dude, Italy was sweet, but I missed you, and if I'm leaving again, you're coming with me." Through a sob, Okuyasu balls his hand into a fist to punch Josuke, but retracts it, trembling.
"I can't go anywhere. You know I can't do stuff like that," Okuyasu says honestly, with no shame. "I don't want to go anywhere, I just want to be here."
"That's fine too," Josuke replies desperately. "We can stay here, we'll figure something out. You already practically live with me. We'll figure it out, dude." Josuke is crying and doesn't know it. "I mean shit, you got stuff on your end figured out way better than I do. You're so smart, bro, you're so fucking smart it's scary."
"I'm not," Okuyasu corrects. His eyes are hot and blurry. "I'm not. I don't know what to do."
"Come on." Josuke leads Okuyasu back to the car and opens the door for him, and follows after into the back. Jotaro leaves them be and grazes his pack of smokes again, but Stray Cat perks up and hisses. Startled, Star Platinum emerges, and Stray Cat lowers its head.
---
"You're going to be okay," Josuke says, even though it's him who's clinging to Okuyasu, fingers wrapped in his shirt. "You're capable and you're... you're just smart. You know what to do. Not yet, like, maybe you haven't mapped it all out yet, but you do know, and you will do it."
"I'll just work," Okuyasu says. He's stopped crying and he's a little dazed.
"And I'll work too," Josuke answers. He lifts his head. "I'm gonna work with you and we'll figure it out. Maybe we can get a place, you know? I can't stay at my mom's forever, but if I'm there, you're welcome. And hell, even when I'm not. You know that."
"What about university?"
"Yeah..." Josuke smiles a little. "When I was away... I dunno, maybe it's lame, but I thought about all that, and you, and... maybe sometime. Who knows."
Jotaro gets in the car, sick of the rain, and carefully places an also fed-up Stray Cat in the passenger seat. The two boys watch him fish for the seatbelt and buckle the flower pot into place. He glances at them, then back at what he's doing, and says nothing. He does look at Okuyasu though, and gives him one of the nods that Okuyasu has become acquainted with after the last year or two. It's weird. Unexpected. Okuyasu is grateful, and maybe moreso, Jotaro.
Not wanting to intrude, Jotaro's attention is turned to backing out of the driveway. Josuke is quiet now with him in the car but he hasn't moved from where he's leaning his head between Okuyasu's shoulders.
Okuyasu hasn't forgotten what he said. He doesn't want Josuke sacrificing what could be something better. Something across the seas-- however many there are between here and wherever Josuke and his dreams may be better suited-- with people who dress and eat well and don't go to the local grocery store's ice cream stand when they're putting gas in their car. But maybe they do.
---
He settles in slowly. He's not okay yet, but will be. He sleeps on Josuke's floor, and eventually in Josuke's bed, their legs folded over each other's, and in the morning, before work, Okuyasu untangles himself gingerly-- even though Josuke never wakes up, not from this or anything else.
Stray Cat sits by Josuke during the day, in his room, and when his mom's gone, he moves it to the window over the sink. Sometimes he makes lunch for Okuyasu when he remembers, and puts it in the fridge the night before. Sometimes Okuyasu bikes home for lunch before rushing out again.
Okuyasu entertains the idea of becoming a cop and Josuke responds with an excitement that surprises them. He suddenly considers it, and Okuyasu, still shocked, gazes with eagerness as Josuke exclaims with unbridled optimism.
"Like my grandpa!" he says, smiling broadly.
Okuyasu's already picked up info from the station, and leafs through it when he's laying on his back on Josuke's bed, Josuke laying beside him, with headphones removed to listen to Okuyasu read. Prince still crooning, muffled. Josuke says Okuyasu'd be great at it for all the right reasons.
"You're fast, you're fuckin... like absurdly strong, smart, friendly... kids and old ladies like you, even Rohan likes you for some reason. You've got all the good stuff. And most importantly," Josuke says, tapping Okuyasu's hand, "you love Morioh."
They both do.