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Jolyne is young. In her room when she looks at the ceiling she sees the plastic stars her dad put up for her before he left. If she closes her eyes she imagines the outline of a figure slowly floating out of sight. Her hand reaches out and she tries to grab onto any part that she can. She tries to hold on to this figure, tries to convince the figure that she can be there, that she is worthy. The figure always leaves and Jolyne is left with an outstretched arm and tears for a figure she could barely see. She’s eight years old and currently attending elementary school. Her dad has been gone for four months and the last time he visited her mom handed him a stack of papers and told him to sign them. In her head, her father’s last words to her mother echoed “Give this to Jolyne if anything goes wrong. Please.”
Her father was able to turn his back to everything and walk out slowly. But this time, as he walked out, he didn’t say goodbye. Every other time he’d give her a quick but strong hug and leave her with a promise that he’d be back, or a goal for when he came back. He’d bury his face in her hair and she’d feel the phantom sensation of being held tight, even as he walked away. This time he didn’t turn around or go say goodbye.
She tried to hold onto any part of her father that she could. Stealing old clothes her mother gathered up to donate, hoarding old photos, even keeping those old stars on her ceiling months after they stopped giving off a faint glow. Her mother had crossed her arms and tapped her foot after she’d pulled out her daughter’s collection of her father’s forgotten things. Jolyne had cried as she followed her mother, tugging on her pant leg and begging her not to toss out what was left of her father. Her mother ended up picking her up and carrying her to the kitchen, setting her on the counter. She handed her a glass of water and Jolyne ignored her mom’s trembling hand. Her mom had said some harsh words in a soft tone, talking about forgiveness and moving on, saying that her father hadn’t abandoned her. Saying that her father missed her, and would come back. “He doesn’t know how to live with a normal family, he can’t handle it. But he’ll be back Jojo. He loves you.” Flashes of outstretched hands and fleeting figures and Jolyne closed her eyes and tried not to take it personally. It took her all night but in the morning all her plastic stars were on the ground. She doesn’t sleep, choosing to lay and look up at the dark ceiling, void of outlines of stars and figures.
Jolyne wakes up and ignores her mother’s worried looks. She goes onto the bus and busies herself by painting figures on the foggy windows as she catches glances of father’s waving goodbye to their children on the bus. She ignores the cheerful demeanor as other kids prance to class and keeps her eyes trained on the floor as she walks past the most recent school art project-- family portraits. She keeps quiet during class, filling out her worksheets. It takes until lunch before she snaps. She sits by herself eating a lunch she scavenged her fridge to create. Some girls end up sitting around her and start speaking loudly. Jolyne frowned, her attention focused on her sandwich, but she can’t help but overhear the other girl’s conversation.
“Yeah, my dad--”
“Oh cool I just--”
“Hey? Is she starring?” Jolyne blinks and watches as the group of girls stare back at her. Her face flushes and she scrunches her eyes shut.
“Yeah, that’s really weird. And she won’t even say sorry!”
“That’s not normal, what’s her problem?”
“Hey! Did anyone teach you any manners?” The moment goes into slow motion. Jolyne’s eyes fly open and she stands up, her hand flying out. Jolyne is struck with two things as her fist connects. First, those feelings of watching her dad walk away without saying goodbye--without saying anything, watching the figure fade out, the feeling of seeing her own hand reach for something that she can’t hold onto, those feelings were replaced with something fiery and bright. The intensity fills her core and her heart. The second thing is that the girl she was staring at is probably the prettiest person she’s ever seen. Her lashes flutter and are thick with tears. Jolyne can smell the coppery tang of blood and she doesn’t know if it’s coming from her fist or the other girl’s nose. It isn’t till the girl hits Jolyne back that she’s reminded that she’s supposed to be angry.
When her mom picked her up she was disappointed. Jolyne tapped her feet together as her mom drove. Her knuckles were white against the steering wheel and her face was scrunched up. Eventually she broke the silence. “Jojo, what were you thinking? Punching that girl isn’t normal, Jojo. If this is about your father, you need to let it go. Everyone has a family and some people don’t have a dad. That’s okay, you don’t need to be defensive about it.”
“But I have a dad.” Her mom doesn’t turn to face her as she speaks, her eyes stay focused on the road. Jolyne says nothing, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her mother sighs and still doesn’t look. Jolyne can’t help but wish she did as she turns to look out the window, tears falling freely but quietly. If her dad left because he couldn’t handle a normal family, he certainly couldn’t handle her.
--
She’s in middle-school when she’s approached by some older girls. They’re in highschool and she’s still in middle school and alarm bells ring in her mind. She couldn’t have done anything to these girls, right? Sure she’s been teased by older girls, but they were always a certain type of girls. The group approaching held themselves with the kind of confidence that Jolyne saw in the mirror after she got into a fight and won. The kind of confidence that created bruises on your body and permanent bloody knuckles. Jolyne’s hands turn to fists reflexively and she is almost alarmed at how her posture shifts to stand taller as the older girls approach. While she may not have ever seen these girls before, she certainly wasn’t going to waste time being polite. Bruises scattered across her body, ruined school work, and torn clothes were lessons that taught her to know better.
“Kujo, right?” Jolyne tilted her head, angling her chin up. The girls stood taller than her. Their posture seemed alert but more relaxed, as if she wasn’t even a threat. Jolyne found herself glancing at people around, who began to move away from the scene. She wished she could blame them or even be brave enough to make a scene.
She instead chose to clear her throat before speaking. “Yeah that’s me, what do you want?” The older girls laugh amongst themselves, before looking her up and down. The one who spoke first had a head of stringy hair that was once blue, but faded into an ugly green, she tied her hair in a set of ridiculous space buns. The other two girls had much less offensive hair styles, but each of them had a denim jacket. Jolyne’s eyes widened recognizing the series of patches and logos emblazoned over their jackets. The Hell Riders.
After the group of girls stopped laughing, the one who spoke earlier gave her a meaningful look.“We’ve heard of you before. You’re pretty tough and not afraid to speak up.” One of the other girls, a lankier girl with hair dyed an obnoxious shade of red, pushed the green haired girl out of the way.
“What Greenie’s tryna say is that we don’t take applications, but you seem kinda rad for a kid. We meet up in the parking lot after school, you should come hang out.” The red head finished and the other girl--Greenie-- elbows her in the side. Hard.
She turns to face Jolyne and offers her a smirk. “Yeah, basically that’s it. You’ll just haveta show up. And come up with a nickname, we can’t being calling you Kujo when co-- teachers are around, so bring yourself and a nickname. Got it?” Jolyne finds herself nodding, maybe too enthusiastically as the girls begin to laugh again. The group leaves Jolyne by herself afterwards, some of the girls even promising to let the young girl ride on their motorcycles and teach her some tricks. Jolyne goes through her next class in a daze. She’s never had friends before, especially not with other girls. The lingering warmth of being offered a place in a group, being accepted somewhere that wants her? Something in her chest blooms. In the middle of class she stands up, interrupting the teacher, and asks to go to the bathroom. She ignores the glares and snorts of laughter as she walks past the class, it isn’t until she is in the hallway that she breaks into a sprint. The mirrors in the bathroom are disgusting but offer a reflection of herself. Jolyne’s frowns as she looks at herself and superimposes the image of Greenie over herself. She’s too short, got too much baby fat lingering on her cheeks, and certainly doesn’t dress like the older girl. Jolyne frowns before pulling out some hairties. She thinks about how drawn she was to the older girl’s hair, despite the ugly color and greasy texture. Filled with determination she grabs a chunk of hair and gives herself a feral grin. Later, when Jolyne walks outside to the school parking lot she smiles and runs over to a large group of teenagers. The group seems interested and excited when they see her and she’s given introductions to each person and their vehicle they brought with them.
Greenie grins when she sees Jolyne and ruffles her hair, some of the pieces falling out of the precarious buns. “So kid, what’s your name?” Greenie asks, her arms crossed.
Jolyne puffed out her chest, ignoring stares of everyone else. “You can call me Jojo!” Everyone chuckles, causing Jolyne to flush.
Greenie comes to her rescue, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Alright Jojo, tell your ma you won’t be home for a bit. I’m gonna show you how to actually make hair buns!” Greenie hops on her bike and pats at the back. Jolyne’s eyes widen and she practically jumps onto the bike, wrapping her arms around the older girl's waist. The motorcycle starts and wind whips through her hair. Jolyne pretends that she’s scared and that’s why she buries her face into the older girl’s back. But while her hair fails out of the buns and the wind pushes against Jolyne she feels free. Greenie gives her a ride home. Jolyne’s hair still hurts from everyone, everyone crowded around, shouting various pieces of unhelpful advice or worse, trying to grab chunks of her hair and do the bun themselves, as the older girl tried to help her get space buns. Other people had stepped in and tried to give Jolyne more of a makeover. One boy pointed out her star birthmark, and another girl pulled out a pencil eyeliner, tracing a star shape over one of her eyes. A belt, somebody’s exe’s pants, a denim jacket, and a helmet were tossed her way as well. Jolyne waved to Greenie and the rest of the Hell Riders as they rode off. Her chest still hurt from laughing and the phantom warmth of having Greenie’s arms around her waist, from trying to give the younger girl lessons in riding hours ago, lingered. Jolyne closed her eyes before grabbing her key and opening the door slowly.
The sun had started to set, but her mom had to be happy she was making friends… hopefully. The house is small, old, and loud. Jolyne finds herself wincing as the door groans as she opens it and enters. The familiar interior is bathed in light. Jolyne can smell the aroma of her mom’s cooking and her mother’s greatest weakness-- lavender scented candles. Her shoes slip off onto some ugly rug her mom had gotten years ago and refused to get rid of, despite the thing probably being older than her mom herself! The hallway seems to extend, the familiar beige walls growing longer and the family pictures warping with the walls. Guilt burns throughout her chest for some reason she can’t explain. She told her mom she’d be out, she’d apologized for the inconvenience, so why does she still feel bad? Her footsteps are quiet as she walks, having memorized all the spots that creak and groan, the lack of noise is probably more indicative that she’s arrived than the loud groaning of the front door. Jolyne pauses halfway to the hallway. She can hear her mother clearly from the kitchen along with some unfamiliar voice. The voice is deep and conjures images of plastic glowing stars on the ceiling of her childhood bedroom. She bites her lip and marches into the kitchen. Her mom, clearly expecting her, gives her a look and gestures for her to move up closer. She’s left a plate of food out for Jolyne and is in the middle of talking to some guy-- who she can only assume the voice belonged to.
The man is facing her mom, his back to Jolyne, as he speaks Jolyne is struck with how big he is. The man is bent forwards slightly, but Jolyne finds herself thinking that she’d only reach his shoulder if they compared heights. His shoulders are broad and he’s wearing a black turtleneck with a pair of ugly--cool-- green slacks. He doesn’t seem to register that she’s entered in favor of continuing to talk. Jolyne stiffens as she walks to get the plate her mother left for her, right next to the man. After settling next to the man, Jolyne settles for focusing all her attention on eating, letting her bangs fall in front of her face, hopefully covering the makeup that made her free but now burnt like a scar or a proclamation of guilt.
She’s barely able to lift the fork to her mouth before her mother begins to speak. “Jojo, nice of you to join us. Your father is in town for a while and we were discussing having you spend some time with him, wouldn’t that be nice?” Jolyne blinked. She dropped her fork and turned to face the man--her dad that she was currently standing next to her, who she didn’t recognize. His posture was tense and the outfit was different than the one she’d hoarded so long ago. He certainly looked like her father had in photos and the few memories she had of him. But the expression was different. He avoided her gaze and seemed on edge, his height and bulk was intimidating rather than gentle.
“I never agreed to that. I just wanted to check in.” Her father trailed off and Jolyne felt herself burn. The guilt that created the heaviness in her chest began to burn, as if it was fuel for the fiery anger that engulfed her.
“You had no right to! You left us and you can’t just come and go as you please!” Tears run hot, smearing the star down the side of her face. Her mother winces as she shouts but her defiance meets indifference as her father finally looks down at her. “How dare you come here and pretend to be my father, you abandoned us, so get out!” She finished, hands clenched into fists at her sides. It was sudden, but Jolyne swore she felt the phantom sensation of arms wrap around her, pulling her into a hug, but her focus was on her father. His face was schooled into an expression of stoic indifference, reminiscent of expressions she’d seen in old photos where her mother hangs off of him.
“You’re right, I shouldn’t have come here.” Jolyne took a step back, running into a hard surface, but she still stared at him. In her head she had scenario’s where her father apologizes, cries, tells her and her mother that he’d never leave. He endures the abuse that she gives him because he knows he deserves it. Some part of her whispers “No one can handle you, Jojo,” and for the first time she thinks that thought might be right.
The feeling of being held slowly drifted and Jolyne found herself missing the comfort the phantom feeling gave. “Jolyne! I cannot believe you right now?! You can not speak that way to your father!” Her mother stands up, her own fury matching Jolyne’s. Her eyes met her mom’s, neither backing down. Jolyne glares, trying to force her mother to remember what she said years ago about giving up on having a dad. Her mom breaks first, turning towards her former husband. “She’s upset, she doesn’t mean it.”
“No, I definitely mean it. You wanted nothing to do with me or mom? I want nothing to do with you.” Jolyne ignored her mother’s sputtering and used her temporary bravery to focus on her father. He was staring straight at her, as if his focus had never left. Jolyne swore she saw a pair of transparent arms quickly collect his things, but later found herself brushing it off as being upset. His eyes burnt with regret, longing, and something else she couldn’t identify. Her heart thumped inside her chest, the part of her that still was reaching out for him begging for her to hold on tight and ask him to never leave again. The part of her that was buried in old photos and plastic stars.
“I understand.” His eyes shifted to her mom. “Marina, call me if you need anything.” His posture shifted and he began to walk to the door. Jolyne found herself starring as her father walked out once more. She wiped her eyes, ignoring the smeared makeup now staining her palm. “Jolyne, I--”
“Get out.” She interrupted. She pretended to ignore the fact that one of her arms had reached out. She closed her eyes and willed the hand to point rather than to reach. Her eyes flew open as she felt another hand wrap around her own. She looked at her own hand empty and now cradled against her own chest and pretended to not notice the tears falling down her own face.
“Jojo… “ Her mom walked over. Jolyne was struck with how tired her mom looked in that moment. Her eyes looked sad, but she still brushed Jolyne’s hair out her face. “I’m sorry hun, he just doesn’t know how you work. We can always call him, he left me his number.” This time, she left unspoken.
Jolyne scoffed. “It’s ‘cause I’m not normal, right mom? Cause I’m too much to handle? That’s why he doesn’t want me, right?” Her mom’s eyes softened and she wrapped her arms around her daughter. The contact burned, as if her mom was trying to squeeze all the thoughts out of her head.
“Oh, Jojo..”
--
At fourteen she gets arrested. A simple case of being caught wth a wallet that wasn’t yours and trying to run before things got too intense. There’s a sick sense of satisfaction when she gets cuffed and thrown into the back of a police cruiser, it’s the beginning of every story--every scenario where her father comes back and saves her. Half of her wants the bastard to feel guilty and beg for forgiveness, the other half says fuck him. Both halves agree that this is his fault. She ends up in more trouble than anyone thought. The distinctive look and denim jacket were staples for the Hell Riders. She ends up getting charged with a litany of minor charges and she feels in over her head. Her mom freaks out, understandably. The woman worked hard for a normal life for her daughter and herself, it wasn’t her fault she got saddled with a brat with issues. Jolyne can’t blame her mom for calling her dad, it’s what she wanted, right? The little bit of hope she allowed herself to foster is extinguished when her mom tells her that her dad’s going to Tokyo.
She’s sent to juvie before she gets any official sentencing. Her mom’s hair is messy and clothes rumpled. Jolyne hugs her before she goes and pretends not to notice the tears her mom sheds for her, she doesn’t deserve it to begin with. Everything is loud and she’s shoved onto a bus with a multitude of other kids almost an hour later. She crosses her arms and glares at anyone who tries to give her any shit. It’s almost scary how easily she fits in. In the end she’s sent to a local community center for a group therapy program and community service. She only spends a week in juvie before she’s picked up, her mom’s knuckles are white as she clutches the steering wheel for dear life.
The two haven’t talked beyond pleasantries since Jolyne had gotten out, and the silence hurts. Her mother breaks it first. “Jojo…” Jolyne groaned and looked out the window. Her mother always tried these conversations in neutral spaces where neither person might flee. Her mother claimed it was so they could say what needed to be said in a safe space. Personally, she hated it. Trapped in some small metal space with her mom, ready to verbally tear her throat out. Plus, her mom was the one driving, the one in control. Jolyne couldn’t help but want to open the door and run into traffic to prove how safe of a space it was.
“Mom, I don’t want to do this.” Her mom huffed. Her eyes followed the road, but Jolyne still couldn’t change the feeling of being scrutinized. She felt her foot tap nervously and crossed her arms.
“No, we need to talk. This has gone on long enough, imagine my surprise when you’re bringing gang members home instead of boyfriends. I know that your dad--”
Jolyne gritted her teeth, until the mention of her dad. “Mom, just shut up about dad, please--” Jolyne nearly slammed her head against the car door as her mother interrupted. “
You’re just like him sometimes, Jojo.”
And that’s when she saw red. “I am nothing like that bastard! I’m sorry that I’m not your perfect normal little girl, I’m sorry that dad left because he couldn’t handle me. I made a mistake--whatever! Next time I’ll be sure to follow your lead and marry the first guy that knocks me up, happy?”
So she went too far. Jolyne did everything in her power to not wince, she was trying to make a point, she was trying to make her mom regret what she said, not feel bad for being her mean. She didn’t even want to talk about her stupid dad anyways.
“Jolyne Kujo. You do not get to talk to me like that, I have done nothing but support you and care about you. Do you really want to have this fight right now? After everything that’s happened and everything I’ve done for you?”
Jolyne felt her head whip to the side. Her mouth almost didn’t work as she processed what her mom said. Guilt pushed on the anger, threatening to explode and make her say something she’d regret. She needed to leave, she needed to leave, she needed to-- “I didn’t ask to be your daughter and I sure as hell didn’t ask to be his. Just pullover, mom. I’ll walk.” Her mouth moved faster than anything else. Jolyne watched as her mom’s eyes widened.
“Jolyne Kujo, you absolutely will not.” Her mother did pullover, luckily. Jolyne knew she was mad, but wasn’t ready to see if she’d open the door in a moving car and hop out in the road. Given how things were going, she probably wouldn’t like the answer. Her mom locked eyes with her, light brown met with light green. Jolyne’s hand trembled and fumbled with the door lock. She didn’t break eye contact until she opened the door.
Stepping out was freeing and terrifying. She felt her mom scowl and heard the beginning of a lecture. Once more her mouth moved faster than her thoughts, moved faster than logic. “Yeah, I will. Bye mom.” Jolyne turned and started to walk, ignoring her mom blaring the car horn. She knew this was the wrong fight to pick, she knew she was in the wrong, but there was something so satisfying and nice about walking away. She felt like she did the right thing. Jolyne’s eyes widened and remembered the outstretched hand, pictured her mom doing the same thing. Her feet moved faster than her mind, which seemed to be a constant with her. She never did think things through. In a quick motion she ran back, throwing herself into her mom’s arms, crying. Trying to banish the guilt of how good it felt to leave, trying to forget how good it felt to abandon her mom. Indignation rose, she was nothing like her father, she came back! “But he did too.” Some part of her whispered.
---
Meeting with the group sucks. Jolyne finds it’s to be the worst part of her week, unlike school they actually care if she attends and will call her mother. So twice a week she makes the walk from her school to the community center. The Hell Riders offer her rides and try to make it more bearable, Greenie even offers her use of her beloved bike, but Jolyne waves them off. It’s easy to disguise herself as a normal troubled teen, she crosses her arms, shows general disdain for the group, and refuses to talk to anyone outside of what’s required. The issue is that she finds herself caring about the other members. She even learns the name of the youthworker assigned to her case-- it’s Roxanne. It becomes easy to care about the others, there are a few who are younger than her and Jolyne finds herself offering to teach them how to ride motorcycles, she even goes so far as to walk the younger ones to their bus stops. Jolyne even finds herself teaching some of the other girls how to do Greenie’s space buns, she does school work and finds out she’s not awful at math and science like she thought she was.
Eventually Roxanne pulls her aside. “Jolyne, you’re doing well in the program. You’re a great role model and we really appreciate your presence in group.” Jolyne freezes, nodding along. It’s all positive, but that’s how most awful things happen, wrapped in between a compliment and positives.
“Yeah. I’m just doing my part.” Jolyne offers, ignoring Roxanne’s beaming smile.
“Well, once you’re done with your community service and group, you should come visit. We offer services for teenagers looking for jobs and a whole lot more. You’re always welcome back.”
Jolyne looked at Roxanne, the woman had done nothing but try to help Jolyne, even going so far as to learn about motorcycles and cars to keep up in conversations. Jolyne broke the eye contact, looking at the floor. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Jolyne says it, and she finds a ringing truth in her words. It almost surprises her, before she nods. Yeah, she would like it.
The Hell Riders are supportive of her going into mentoring, it almost shocks Jolyne before she smiles and accepts it, of course they would. The group even agrees that it’s time Jolyne “got her own bike” and she found herself too distracted to ask what that involved. It’s late at night, Jolyne had managed to call her mom and convince her that everything was alright and that she was just helping out a kid after group. It was easier than she expected. All she had to do was wait outside the center for the Riders to pick her up. It’s strange to her, she’s managed to separate the Jolyne that goes to group, that talks to Roxanne, and even gets decent grades from the Jojo who is nothing but a punk who rides around at late hours and harasses cops. To have them so close to each other makes her feel uncomfortable, but she’s used to being stretched and pulled in various directions. Jolyne grins when the Riders pull up. Greenie pats the back of her bike and Jolyne controls the urge to jump onto the bike, instead choosing to summon all the calm that existed in her body and saddle herself behind the older girl.
“Hey Jojo, you ready to get your bike?” Greenie’s voice rumbles in her chest and Jolyne can’t help but grin as she wrapped her arms around her middle.
“No shit! Y’all have been teaching me how to do maintenance on your bikes and letting me bum off rides for forever. ‘Sides, I wanna teach the kids to ride down here, ya know?” Some of the other Riders cheer and chuckle, but Jolyne feels Greenie rev the bike, and nothing seems to matter.
“Sounds like you’re ready, Jojo. Hold on!” And with that the bike launches against the wind and Jolyne closes her eyes, against the darkness Jolyne swears she can see faint glow-in-the-dark stars. Together they pick out a bike from the side of a race track, it’s beaten to shit and clearly been forgotten but to Jolyne, it’s perfect, but things still don't feel right.
The childish hope that her father would save her from herself, save her from the world, died. It tasted like ash in her mouth, and the resentment became her anchor in the world. She got tattoos, she stole what she wanted, she even broke into cars. Hot wiring became as easy as breathing and stealing became nothing more than a twitch of her fingers. Things began to escalate at home, with the gang. Her mom yells at her, telling her she’s just like her father. So Jolyne yells back, says things she doesn’t mean. Anger and resentment become as much her weapons as her fists and she’s great at using them. She leaves home for days at a time now. Her mom looks at her as if she’s two people, looks at her with tears and a deep sadness that Jolyne recognizes and hates. The star birthmark that was “cool” and “unique” becomes the calling card for her own misery and she hates it.
--
Eventually things change, Jolyne wanted something else. The person she was in the group became too far out of reach and goddamnit she wants her back. So, she leaves the gang, enrolls in courses at a community college, she even falls into something semi-official with Romeo. But it’s not the same. She tries hard for her mom, pretends to be a normal daughter, pretends to be normal but it doesn’t work. Everytime she goes out with Romeo she can’t stop herself from staring at women who walk by and imagining if she were with them instead. In the end she gets arrested, framed for a crime she didn’t commit and as the police drag her out of her mom’s house, she wonders if this is what she gets for trying to be something she never was.
--
At Green Dolphin Jolyne realises that she’s a lesbian. Or as Hermes put it “You’re perfectfully normal, just a big ol’ queer with daddy issues, anger issues, and abandonment issues.” She also finds out she has a stand and inherited a nemesis from her dad. Great. She finds out a lot about herself in prison. It’s almost funny, a prison is where she finds herself feeling the most free in a long time. She makes friends and starts a quest to go find her dad’s memories and stand. She wonders if she were to look through her father’s memories, how many would include her?
--
Eventually they defeat Pucci. It’s difficult work but apparently her dad and the Speedwagon foundation managed to organize an impromptu Joestar Family Reunion. She meets her Great-Great-Grand Uncle Giorno Giovanna who turns out to be a mafia boss in Italy, he tells her to call him cousin and she finds herself having more in common with the Don of Passione then either of them expected. She also officially meets her Great Uncle Josuke Higashikata, a man she remembers seeing in pictures and hearing about from Grandma Suzie’s rare calls. Between her, Giorno, Josuke, Annasui, Hermes, Emporio, and her dad they end up defeating Pucci. Thanks to Josuke, everyone survives, somewhat. It isn’t until the ambulance ride to the hospital that she realizes she hasn’t let go of her dad. Her hands clenched against the jacket and blood gluing skin to fabric, they end up cutting him out of it when they wheel him off and she’s left to scrub fabric and blood out of her skin.
Her dad is in a coma. The words echo in her skull. She remembers thinking it’d be easier if she didn’t have a dad at all, but that was before everything happened, before stands, before Pucci, before he came back. Now that she had a glimpse of having her dad back, she wanted him to stay. Feelings bounced around her head and in her skull, echoing sentiments she hadn’t had since childhood. She visits him once in his hospital room. Sitting still in the room makes her skin buzz, even without him conscious she found herself anxious and bouncing off the wall. After an hour she storms off and vows to stay away until something changes.
She’s left to wander the hospital in her free time, Josuke was able to heal her enough to hold her together while he focused on everyone else, but the Foundation still insists that she stays at the hospital. They basically ended up taking it over as a defacto headquarters. She watches various patients and victims of Pucci’s attack sit in the lobby and wait for treatment, for answers, for anything. Sometimes she sits with them, tries to help them. If the Foundation has a problem with it, they don’t say anything to her. Josuke visits her when he can, Jolyne finds herself smiling and raptly listening when he regales her with the tales of Morioh and her father. She holds the bitterness back for his sake, clearly he wants to enjoy time with his great-niece and have some semblance of peace before he’s pulled out to cure the masses.
Giorno visits more consistently. He pulls out polaroid pictures and files, helping her find answers and both of them catching up on a family neither knew they were apart of. It’s easy to smile when he tells her tales of his life he built in Italy, supplementing the depressing present with stories of the past. Annasui is in the hospital with Hermes. Annasui is under a strict lockdown and Jolyne pretends not to hear the Foundation mention sending him back to prison. Hermes is a different case, her crime less severe, and her condition more severe. It’s easy to forget how strong and stubborn the older girl was when she was confined to bed rest and missing both her arms. Jolyne can admit she cried when she saw Hermes the first time, before getting a verbal smackdown by the older girl and being forced to fill her in on everything she missed.
Emporio has a room in the hospital, but both him and Jolyne ignore it. He stays with her as much as he can, the Foundation be damned. Between the two of them they start making a dent in both of their schooling. Emporio testing to see which grade to be placed in and Jolyne starting on her damn University entrance exams. Privately Jolyne thinks about adopting him, he was a good kid, and needed someone to take care of him. Especially since Weather… Jolyne blinks back tears and lays her hand on Emproio’s head. He’s curled against and burrowed so far into the blankets, she doubts she could even untangle him. F.F. didn’t make it, and neither did Weather. She places a hand to her forehead, ignoring the impending headache. Across her bed are papers; files from the Foundation and Giorno, letters delivered to her by Josuke from various family members and friends, paperwork for a new identity, her exam results, and adoption forms. It’s easy to imagine F.F besides her, asking questions, pointing out logistical errors. It’s even easier to picture Weather watching her, he wouldn’t talk much but would sit next to her and offer silent support. Her hand shakes as she picks up a pen to sign the forms. The familiar sensation of unravelling overtakes her other arm and Jolyne pretends to ignore Stone Free as she separates from Jolyne. The Stand stares at her, before slowly reaching for the pen. Jolyne grits her teeth, before passing the pen over to her Stand. Stone Free stares at her before rapidly sorting the papers and signing even faster that she can blink. Jolyne lays back and sends a string out into the hallway to listen for any nurses coming her way.
---
She feels on edge. Her father has been in a coma for two weeks. Jolyne found herself purposefully unravelling herself and creating a net across the hospital, and if she makes sure there’s always a string wrapped around Hermes, Emporio, and her dad’s wrist, well. She’d never admit to it. So it takes her by surprise when she slowly retracts her strings from their various places when a hand clenches the string. The rest of her body slowly comes together and Jolyne focuses on listening. She hears deep, ragged breathing, a heart monitor, and nurses speaking ferverantly.
“--Dr. Kujo, please! You’ve been in a coma, you need to calm down!” Everything stopped moving, as if her father was there to stop time for her own personal crisis. Jolyne tenses. Her hands begin shaking and her legs bounce up and down. Her bed vibrates with the movement and the only thing she can hear is the pounding in her skull. Her dad is back, she can feel his hand clutching her string as if it’s the only thing that matters. And it scares her. “I’ve always cherished you.” The words echo in her head and she considers those words versus everything that happened. Her father’s back and he walked away all those years ago versus him coming to Green Dolphin, the missed phone calls versus all the files from the Foundation. The familiar flood of bitterness and longing hit her all at once.
“...Jolyne…” Jolyne feels her heart skip a beat and a tidal wave of fear shatter every emotion in it’s path. “I… want to see… Jolyne…” She lets out a harsh laugh. It feels desparate in her mouth, begging her for some sense of relief. He may want to see her now but he’s left before. “No one can handle you.” The phrase echoes like a curse, bouncing through her skull. It’s easy to picture her dad turning her away at the door. She quickly tugs on her string, trying to reel it back, and it doesn’t budge. She hears nurses whisper and leave her father’s hospital room, their shoes pounding against the tile. She doesn’t realize Stone Free manifested until a backpack is shoved into her arms and she looks at blood pooling on the floor. Her strings rush to close the open wound on her hand and she stares at the severed string on the ground and she makes her choice.
She steals a motorcycle on purpose, but takes Emporio by accident. It isn’t until she’s hotwiring the thing, wiping sweat off her forehead and ignoring the blood staining her skin, that she notices Emporio watching her with concern. His mouth is moving, but she can’t hear anything. She forces herself to stare at him, focusing everything on deciphering what he’s saying.
“--you just ran away, are you sure you’re okay? It’s okay if you’re not! But the nurses definitely saw you run and we’re still supposed to be in the hospital I--” Emporio is babbling, his hands flapping and squeezing each other as he speaks and Jolyne can’t help but reach out.
“Hey, hey.” Emporio looks at her, then he’s crying. Her eyes widen and she doesn’t realize she’s dropped the wire and pulled Emporio into a hug until she hears herself again. “It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay.” His hands grasp at the material on her top and ball into fists. Jolyne doesn’t even blink as she pulls him onto the bike behind her. She’s finished hotwiring the bike by the time the Speedwagon people have run out of the building. She kicks the bike up and starts the engine, Emporio’s arms wrap around her waist and she’s gone. Faintly she hears shouting and sees Giorno and Uncle Josuke waving at her. It isn’t until they’ve checked into a random motel that Emporio tells her they were telling her to come back.
---
Jotaro Kujo woke up after two weeks. Or so he was told. He was tired, he had been for years, but given the amount of comas he’d been finding himself in as of late he was done with sleep. Well, he couldn’t call what was happening sleep, he was trapped within his own head, watching a series of memories play for him as he was scarily far away from true consciousness. Every memory kept drawing him back to Jolyne. Egypt and the fight with Dio-- Jolyne was there, with a fleshbud, taking Kakyoin’s place, taking his place. Morioh and the fighting with Kira-- Jolyne replacing Hayato, Jolyne replacing Koichi, Jolyne dying. This memory, he felt closer to consciousness, but the memory was too real. Jolyne lying face down in the water, tying Emporio to dolphins, her body unravelling. Jotaro swore he could feel her string in his hand, so he did the first thing he could think of, and clutched the string as tightly as he could. He was surprised and slightly satisfied as he felt his hand obey, the pain of tightly holding something, so he continued to push, focusing on Jolyne.
The moment he opened his eyes, ignoring the inane chatter of various nurses he focused on what was important. “...Jolyne…”
Speaking hurt. It was satisfying, a physical reminder that he was here, that he was present. He continued to speak, “I… want to see… Jolyne…” Jotaro almost grins as some of the nurses begin chattering to themselves, too quickly for him to pick up, and then dash off. Despite the pain and stress his body was in, Jotaro felt surprised by the faint sensation of something wiggling in his grasp, before going limp. It took a frustrating effort to pull his fist into view. His teeth gritted and Jotaro was caught off guard looking at his bony wrist. His veins were visible with the effort, and despite how tightly he felt he’d been holding his hand, it wobbled and his fingers twitched with the pressure. It was a relief when he was able to open his hand, crescent moon shapes dancing across his palm.
A thin string was wrapped over and under his fingers, as if someone was trying to play cat’s cradle with Jotaro’s useless right hand. The string hung limply and trailed off and out of the room. Jotaro felt pressure build up inside his chest, his daughter’s strings felt distinctly alive, like her unable to stay still and climbed over and under obstacles, tightening and loosening with the beat of her own heart. His hand shook as he tugged at the string, his heart skipped a beat as he watched the length of string fly into view. The heart monitor seemed to screech as Jotaro watched the severed string lay limply on the floor. Jotaro had seen hell. He’d fought and defeated stand users that got into his head and showed his horrifying scenes of Jolyne specifically, ones that made him feel weak and pathetic. He’d defeated them by being calm, centering himself in the present despite the horrifying imagery of his daughter. In real life it was much more difficult. His hands clutched the string, various nurses ran in and out, trying to talk to him. According to various nurses he’d been placed in a medically induced coma for the purposes of recovery and was slowly being weaned off drugs, he’d just come to earlier than expected. The information seemed to flood Jotaro’s mind, the only thing he could think was what could’ve happened to his daughter.
Things moved quickly around him, nurses checking him, speaking to each other, running in and out. He couldn’t help but wish he could get answers. It seemed Star was in agreement. It was a relief for Star to appear. Despite what happened he didn’t lose his stand. Again. Jotaro nearly winced as he looked at the Stand. The right of Star’s face had a long scar going through the eye and the mouth, ending at the jaw. Like a kintsugi bowl Jotaro remembered his mother having as a child, the scar was filled with gold, as if a skilled artist went through the trouble of keeping both sides of his head together. He didn’t even want to think about what that meant he looked like at the moment. As quickly as Star arrived, so did a flurry of Foundation operatives. Each one trying to talk over the other, the beep of his still attached heart monitor seemed to grow louder and faster. Luckily it was easy for Star to rip everything off of him. Nurses began shouting to each other, other’s opting to quiver and scamper away, Jotaro couldn’t help but feel free and a sick sense of pride. After weeks of laying down, being pathetic, he still managed to terrify the people around him. Maybe it wasn’t something to be proud of. Standing up was a problem. Even sitting up caused his body to ache in ways he didn’t expect. The pain was comparable to the injuries he had after Egypt. Star was half phased through him, trying to help him sit and resist the nurses admittedly feeble attempts at pushing him down, all things considered. It was easy to grab a nurse with Star. One of them, a brunette with a shrill voice speaking rapidly in a language he didn’t recognize, who had been attempting to push the man back in his bed. She glared up at him as Star held the collar of her scrubs.
Her mask hid her scowl, but it was easy to imagine it on the woman’s face. “I’m sorry… Dr. Kujo, but you’re daughter… she escaped her room!” Jotaro felt all the air escape his lungs and faintly heard the heart monitor begin to rapidly beep.
Giorno– how did he get here so damn fast– tells the women to get more nurses for “Dr Kujo” and then dashes out of the room, quickly followed by Josuke. The nurse had managed to deal with Jotaro, but thoughts pounded through his head. Why would she leave? Was it a stand? What happened? Jotaro's thoughts were interrupted as a member of the Foundation entered.
The person cleared their throat, seemingly very incredibly uncomfortable. “Excuse me, Dr. Kujo. Miss Kujo has uh- taken a motorcycle and a child--” Jotaro raised his eyebrow and watched as the person turned away and continued. “--she has uh left. The hospital. Your uh-- Uncle? And--” The person paused again, discomfort evident on their features, “Mister Giovanna are talking to foundation members as we speak to figure out why she left and where she might go… Do you…?” The person finally trailed off, they stood straight and their hands fiddled with the end of their shirt.
“My daughter…” Jotaro trailed off and felt a part of him peel off and watched as Star’s arm reached out and grabbed the foundation employee, dragging them to the hospital bed where Jotaro himself laid. “Get me out. Now.” Luckily Josuke was able to translate, he was a good kid. He also managed to fill him in on what happened while he was out. Apparently he and Giorno had managed to arrive in the nick of time and save the lives of Jolyne and her allies, but not without some complications. The only one who was truly unijured was Emporio, and while it was objectively a good thing that the child was uninjured, Jotaro couldn’t help but wish that Jolyne was the one who was okay.
Speaking of Josuke, the man was currently pacing around his hospital room. He had collected Giorno, sat Jotaro back down and asked a nurse to bring some food. Giorno managed to stay seated but was rapidly texting, Jotaro could only guess it was business with Passione. Despite being on ‘vacation’ and dealing with family business, the younger man was still working. Jotaro understood that.
The trio had been rather quiet, waiting on Jolyne before getting through everything. It was Josuke who broke the silence.
“What does her stand do?”
Jotaro had ended up barking out a laugh, before coughing. Josuke gave a half-hearted glare and scratched the back of his neck. His hair was starting to break out of his pompadour and Jotaro knew for a fact that he’d been sleeping in the chair next to the bed.
Giorno stretched and shut his phone, tucking it into a pocket. “Miss Kujo’s stand allows her to unravel her body into a substance that is similar to string. It’s apparently “very cool and very strong” according to her allies. It has a lot of versatile abilities such as minor healing, adjusting her form, and making… knots?” Giorno paused, tapping a hand against his leg before continuing. “Her stand seems tied to her, she has to unravel parts of herself to manifest her stand. It’s quite interesting actually… I had an old friend, her ability reminded me of him.” Josuke nodded along.
Jotaro watched as the younger man sat down, finally. Jotaro was struck, looking between the two, of how similar they were. He filed that information away in favor of adding to the conversation. “...Stone… Free… it’s name…”
He scowled and felt the left side of his face scrunch up, annoyed at his current restriction. The right side, as much as he wished would mirror the left, couldn’t move. At all. But that was an issue for a different time. Giorno nodded along with Josuke, the two of them listening, but still waiting. It was peaceful.
Almost. Jotaro tapped on the side table. Giorno and Josuke both seemed frustrated, not understanding why they weren’t allowed to get up and chase after a niece they’d only met once or twice. Out of the two of them Giorno was much better at hiding his displeasure, he was rereading Jolyne’s files to try and create a list of locations she might go. Josuke had taken to communicating with the various Speedwagon foundation employees, his younger uncle’s pompadour was falling in his face and only made worse by his habit of running his hand through his hair. Jotaro himself was doing much worse. He had been fully ready to get out of bed, and was currently going through a fast track of various tests before he could even sit up without constant fussing.
Eventually Giorno looked up, brandishing a variety of papers in his hand.
“Your daughter was in a gang?” Giorno’s hands clutched the papers, Jotaro wasn’t good with tone but curiosity dripped off the younger man. Josuke also turned away from his conversation, effortlessly switching from English to Italian.
“Maybe this conversation should be more private, yeah? Feels like a dick move to drag this guy’s,” he points at Jotaro, who understands Italian and he ignores the bile rising in his own throat as Josuke continues, “daughter drama through the entirety of the Foundation? Especially when the guy can’t even talk right.” Jotaro wants to resent that, but can’t help but feel grateful to his uncle for tossing him an escape from this conversation. He already knew he was a shit father to Jolyne, her running away was evidence enough. He really didn’t need to be reminded of the fact, especially when it’s only been an hour and a half.
Giorno snorted and waved his other hand out, before switching to Japanese, not as effortlessly as Josuke, but impressive nevertheless. “This feels very relevant to discuss right now. The Hell Riders were a motorcycle gang and also known for carjacking. It explains how she managed to take a motorcycle and also tells us that she can take any vehicle.” Giorno paused, setting the papers down and began to tap his fingers against the table he was sat at. Josuke had stiffened and walked to the table Giorno sat at.
Josuke’s fists were balled at his side, but he managed to let out a deep breath and sit next to Giorno. “Pass the files.”
Josuke sat next to Giorno, his hand faintly trembling. He looked at Jotaro and offered a sad smile. “Guess I gotta learn about my niece the hard way.”
---
The motel isn’t great, but it’s lowkey and doesn’t ask any questions when she hands a wad of cash and asks for a room in the back at 11pm. Emporio watches and slowly swipes the brochures and touches ugly decorations peppering the lobby.
The two meander towards their room when they pass a vending machine. His eyes widen as he looks and Jolyne is filled with a rush of fondness. They walk to their room, arms filled with bottles of soda that she hates and he’s never tried. The room itself isn’t awful, it’s just small and the sheets are scratchy. Emporio’s eyes light up and she can’t hold back the cackle as he bolts onto the bed. They turn the T.V. on and the lights off. Emporio drifts off before the next commercial break. Jolyne manages to sleep three hours before she’s woken up with the sound of shuffling and Emporio climbs into her bed. She doesn’t move until she hears him breathe evenly. She pulls him close and promises to herself that she’d keep him safe. The two of them stay like that for the rest of the night, Jolyne keeping an insomniac’s watch and Emporio sleeping soundly.
In the morning the two discuss a plan. Sort of. Jolyne freezes as she hears Emporio stir. She was sorting through everything she grabbed before she made a mad dash out of the hospital. It wasn’t much, to be fair. She was smart enough to keep a go-bag in her hospital room that had her own toiletries, an extra pair of clothes, a charging cable, and her wallet. Inside her wallet is a variety of expired giftcards, a library card, and about 90$ in cash that she kept “just in case!”. She also found a medical card and license for Irene Kujo, she remembered the Speedwagon Foundation pressing it into her hand and telling her that until they could take care of the situation with Jolyne Kujo, she’d have to go with it.
It isn’t until she feels a hand on her shoulder that she realises time has passed. Emporio was shaking her and looking at her with concern. His mouth is moving, but all she hears is buzzing. She ends up pressing a finger to her lips and watches as his mouth closes. She blinks and opens her mouth to speak.
“What’d I do?” Her words slur together but she manages to make the shape of sarcasm. She offers a tight smile, Emporio’s eyebrows furrow and Jolyne is left to ponder how such a young kid could manage such an intense expression.
“Jolyne, you’ve done so much! W-we ran away from the hospital and drove really fast and came to this motel and-and-and…” Emporio trailed off and began to furiously rub at his eyes. She reached for his hands and gently pulled them away from his eyes. He looked her up and down before continuing. “You just kinda looked at me but you weren’t even there! Y-you’re scaring me!” Jolyne felt herself grow tense. Emporio continued to speak, but Jolyne could hear the tears in each word. “You’re being distant and aren’t talking! In the hospital you were acting all happy with Hermes and Giorno and Josuke and me! You were being the same, but then the nurse said that your dad wanted to see you and-and-and… and you ran away! You’re supposed to be brave, we killed Pucci, everything’s supposed to be okay and it’s not!” Emporio was hiccuping and his hands rapidly flapped.
Jolyne tugged the younger boy on her lap, allowing him to cry into her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Emporio. I shouldn’t have taken you with me.” Jolyne tested the words on her tongue, her tone felt flat and she felt the familiar rise of bile. She sounded like her dad. “I think I’m scared of him, of them. Y’know, my family.” Emporio took a step back and sat in front of her, his head nodding along. “It’s just like you said, everything’s supposed to be normal. We saved the day and fixed everything. But it’s not. I don’t feel normal, I don’t know how to feel normal. I’ve only ever been angry at my dad. But hearing him say that he wanted to see I felt…” Jolyne paused and clenched and unclenched her fist. Her knuckles grew white as she did. She parsed through her feelings she had filed under Daddy Issues: sad, mad, happy, jealous, disappointed, until she reached the one. Scared. “I’m scared!” Jolyne threw her arms around herself, ignoring the way her hand began to unravel. “We saved the world and now I’m left a family who doesn’t know or care about me!” Jolyne pushed her head into her arms and forcefully shut her eyes. Her breathing was heavy and erratic and she felt her strings wrap around her body, at least some part of her was trying to keep herself together, right?
“What about your uncles? Or your dad? They were there? They care about you too.” Jolyne looked up at the smaller boy, he had stood up and despite being clearly afraid he had put a hand on her shoulder.
Small strings unraveled and moved up, wrapping itself around his hand. “I just need some space, that’s all.” Despite her flat tone, Jolyne felt tears run down her face, Emporio was crying too, but offered her a soft smile. She found herself proud of him, he’d been through so much and here he was, comforting her sorry ass.
“Maybe we can go back?”
--
Jolyne and Emporio are able to sneak out of the motel with relative ease. Emporio clutching the remaining couple of sodas and Jolyne carrying her own bag. It isn’t until they see the motorcycle that things become difficult.
Jolyne sees the two men first and freezes. Emporio nearly walks straight into the view until she grabs his shoulder and drags him behind her. The two men are standing around the motorcycle, one lounging and the other rapidly tapping his foot.
“Who are they?” Emporio pulled on her hand as he asks. His fingers dig into her wrist, but it’s easy to ignore.
“I think they work for Giorno… The blonde one? I think I remember meeting these two?” Her eyes roll and she points at them, ignoring the tremble in her hand. “The one in the striped hot pants is Mista? He’s got a gun stand or something. The other one is Fugo..” Jolyne paused, tapping her chin. “If you see his stand come out, run.” Emporio hiccupped and Jolyne paused. She ruffled his hair. “You’ll recognize it when you see it. Follow my lead, alright?” He gives a serious nod and she ruffles his hair again. Faintly she wonders if this is what family feels like.
Mista and Fugo are standing by the motorcycle and on the phone. Jolyne rolls her eyes and pushes her string further, trying to listen. Her arm unravels more until she can pick up their voices. Mumbled Italian, of course. Great. She recognizes her and Emporio’s names, realizing she had to leave like--yesterday. It’s easy to let anger and guilt fill her insides until it feels like she’s drowning. Emporio’s hand squeezes her hand and she blinks. The two walk hand and hand to the motorcycle. The man in hot pants--Mista-- points at them and turns to Fugo, barking out something in italian.
Fugo turns to the two of them and looks them up and down. Jolyne feels herself stiffen before he nods and holds out the phone. “It’s Josuke. He’d like to talk with you, Miss Kujo.” Fugo’s accent is crisp and clear. Jolyne finds herself nodding and taking the phone. There’s a faint silence before she takes a deep breath. Internally she wonders why it’s him and not Giorno.
“Uh… Hi.” Jolyne winces at her own tone. So does Mista. Fugo pats her on the shoulder and manages to still look intimidating and formal. She should take notes.
“Jolyne!” Jolyne found herself wincing and pulling the phone away from her ear as Josuke shouted through the phone. Fugo winces in sympathy but makes a gesture telling her to put the phone to her ear once more. “--lieve this, where do you think you are? I know Mista and Fugo found you but I was sure that--”
“Sorry, hi Josuke. Where’s Giorno? How's dad?” She felt bad for interrupting, but given everything that’s happened, she figures there are a lot of things she should feel bad for.
“Oh, Jolyne. Giorno is keeping him company, but we’ve had a difficult time keeping him in his hospital room. He wants to go see you, he’s worried.” Jolyne bit her lip. Her hand held the phone tighter and her foot began to tap. “Speaking of keeping people in their hospital rooms, you need to come back! You were under observation for a reason.” The next part is whispered quietly into the phone, “you are still wanted, afterall.”
Jolyne couldn’t hold back the chuckle. “I’m sorry. I’m fine.” Jolyne ignored the loud and static-y sigh from Josuke. She took a deep breath and schooled her face into a more serious expression. “You need to call Mista and Fugo off. And the Speedwagon Foundation, I’m not going to do anything stupid.” Jolyne felt her hand move into her pocket, instinctually looking for a cigarette. She closed her eyes and pulled the empty hand out of her pocket. “I’ll be back soon. Running away was stupid. Emporio needs to go back too anyways.”
“Mista and Fugo are there to escort you back to the hospital. They have a car too.” She gets the message loud and clear. She passes the phone to Fugo, who gives Mista a nod. The brunette smiles at Jolyne and gestures to a car that looks far too nice and out of place in bumfuck nowhere Florida. The group piled in, Jolyne and Emporio sitting in the back. And there, in the back of a car driving back to the hospital, Jolyne sleeps.
--
The car parks in the hospital parking lot, the sound of the engine shutting down pulls her out of a dream in rubbing her eyes and squinting. Despite being gone for less than 24 hours, there’s more bustle. Guards stand outside the hospital doors and give nods to each person entering. Jolyne can’t look them in their eyes as she walks past. She watches the ground and holds Emporio’s hand until a voice calls out.
“Jolyne.” It’s Giorno, she scrunches her face up and looks at him. His face is unreadable, a cool mask covers any real emotion he might be feeling or having at the moment. He walks briskly towards her, heels clacking against the tiles before he stops right in front of her. The mask slips off, just for a second, as if to check over something. His brows furrow. “You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble.”
“More than I’m worth?” She tries to make it sound like a joke but it just sounds desperate, and pathetic.
His gaze softens and he puts a hand on her shoulder. “No, my dear. No.” He clears his throat and looks over his shoulder. “You have someone waiting for you. Since Josuke healed him up, it’s been hard to get him to stay still, but he’d like to see you.”
Jolyne paused for a moment, she thought of plastic stars stuck on her ceiling, of broad figures she didn’t recognize at first, of angry words. Then she thought of CDs, of words that basically meant I love you or I’m sorry, of bodies floating in the ocean. Inside her guts wriggled like string, she felt too small for her body and a bright, fiery feeling filled her chest.
“Yeah, let’s go see him.”