A cool spring breeze tunneled through Jotaro Kujo's window, fluttering the loose pieces of paper spread out on the teen's desk. The moon peeked over the treeline as if it was a child pretending to be asleep for its parents -something that Jotaro often did as a kid to allow himself to sneak out after his curfew. With his hand against his acne scarred cheek, Jotaro thought to himself about how it's the same moon he saw when he was young.

He used to play in the nearby forest, swimming in streams and jabbing ant's nests with a stick, at night when the moon illuminated the darken world. Insects came alive and feasted on Jotaro's skin before he squashed them in his grasp. The sounds of frogs and cicadas bounced off the ground, the trees, and echoed around in the boy's ears. His eyes quickly adjusted to the minimum lighting as he weaved through thickets, bushes, grooves until he reached his desired destination. A small "fairy circle" as his mother called it; a circle of fungi sprinkled between the brook and the trees. Holy warned him to never set foot inside a fairy circle as it will only bring bad luck, but Jotaro didn't care; it was the only place he could find that had a clear view of the moon without any foliage stealing its spotlight. Bad luck or not, Jotaro bathed in the gentle glow of moonlight, breathing in the scent of the earth.

It was there, one night out in the woods, that Jotaro met someone new, someone who he reluctantly considered a friend after some time. It happened while the troubled child was amateurishly lighting a cigarette between his lips which he had swiped from his father. This was his second time smoking, and the boy himself didn't understand what compelled him to do this. Jotaro detested his chain-smoking father who was never around and placed all the burdens on Holy, and he wasn't looking for a way to relieve stress and anxiety -being out in the woods did that enough. Maybe he wanted to grow up quicker since he was only thirteen at the time. Whatever his reasons were to smoke, the consequences weren't entirely all bad.

With the cigarette resting between his fingers and his attention on the moon, Jotaro was unaware of the child slinking throughout the tree's shadows. The stranger, making a face of distaste, moved closer and closer until he stood several feet away from the circle of fungus. He remained hidden in the darkness to observe Jotaro for a few seconds as he was in the process of taking a puff from the cigarette.

"You know it's bad luck to be inside a fairy circle, and you're smoking which is highly insulting to those mythical creatures. It's a surprise you haven't been witched away by them yet."

Jotaro jumped at the voice, dropping his cigarette onto the grass. Before it had the chance to catch any greenery ablaze, he ground it against the earth, white-hot ashes burning into his palm. Glaring daggers at the stranger, Jotaro hissed through gritted teeth, "I don't care about that stupid, fake folklore. Now tell me who are you?"

"Noriaki Kakyoin," he said, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight. The most notable thing about him was his cherry red hair which appeared as a beacon of rouge now that he was in direct moonlight. His eyes cast down to Jotaro's damaged hand though his face stayed unchanging. "I hate smoking so thank you for stubbing it out, but you didn't have to do it with your hand."

Now feeling the pain surging through his burns, Jotaro held it close and looked at it, careful that his head didn't block any of the available light. His palm had white splotches with surrounding red rings dotted over his skin. Out of curiosity, he used a finger to poke one of the white patches, only to wince in pain as he felt plasma seep out of the wounds.

Kakyoin shuffled closer until he was on the outskirt of the fairy ring, not daring to trespass it. Peering over the fungi, he offered, "I could patch up those burns if you want, since you did get them due to me startling you."

Jotaro sat in silence, thinking over his options. Firstly, he could refuse the redhead, return home, and treat his own wounds in hopes that Holy won't be stirred awake. I'll probably make a noise while disinfecting the burns which will activate her mom senses, so mark that one off. Secondly, he could ask Holy to care for them. Then she'll know I sneak out at night, Jotaro thought with a shake of his head. Thirdly, Jotaro could try his best to conceal it, allowing it to heal on its own. I won't be able to hold a pencil properly during school, so that won't work.

"Hey, just say yes," Kakyoin said. When Jotaro looked up at him, the redhead was holding up a clear supply bag of medical creams, disinfectant, bandages, and a flashlight.

Jotaro swore that the other boy came empty handed and that the bag was too large to hide easily on his body. Staring with skepticism, he kept his gaze strong and his aura cold. "You didn't have that a moment ago; tell me where you get it?"

"From a friend."

"What friend? It's only just us here."

Sighing, Kakyoin squatted down and hugged his knees to his chest. "You don't believe in stupid, fake folklore remember? So there's no use to me explaining myself."

"Are you telling me that your 'friend' is a fairy?"

"Hmm," the redhead hummed, pondering over his answer as he rocked back and forth on his feet. "It's not a fairy persay, but definitely an otherworldly spirit. Now, stick out your hand so I can tend your burns."

Turning away from Kakyoin, the injured boy entertained the idea of running away from this strange kid in his mind, but Jotaro knew it would only be a downfall for him. Kakyoin knew where this place was, and if this wasn't a simple fluke meeting, he could easily come back here to claim this territory if Jotaro were to up and left. Also, there was no way he could hide his burns from Holy, nor could he treat them in a timely manner; he would have to wait for Holy to leave to go shopping which could be in a few days. Begrudgingly, Jotaro turned back to Kakyoin, scooted closer to him (mostly likely leaving grass stains on his shorts), and held out his hand.

Retrieving the flashlight from the bag, Kakyoin said, "come closer, I'm not sticking my hand across that fairy ring."

Not enjoying being bossed around by some random kid, Jotaro eyed Kakyoin who flicked on the flashlight. Now in the new lightsource, the injured boy could really see his makeshift nurse. His hair was cut uneven and messy with a thick, wavy lock framing his face, something that can only be achieved by someone inexperienced styling their own hair. The redhead's eyebrows were thick, bushy, uncontrollable with bits of hair in all directions. Jotaro was seeing a theme that anything hair related to Kakyoin is going to just be a disaster. His face was diamond shaped with a rather defined chin. He wore a white dress shirt that was translucent, allowing Jotaro to see what appeared like a training bra that he sees the girls wear at school. Could just be a tank top, he thought, shrugging. I'm not some fashionista.

Kakyoin forced a cough, rough and unpleasant, to nonverbally encourage Jotaro to permit the redhead to heal his burns.

"Yeah, yeah," Jotaro sighed, shoving his hand out.

"It looks grotesque in proper lighting," the redhead commented, beginning the treatment by retrieving disinfectant and burn cream and bandages. Tossing the flashlight to Jotaro's available hand, he said, "keep the flashlight steady for me."

Jotaro did as he was told; he was tired of putting up a fight and frankly wanted this over with as quickly as possible. With good lighting, Kakyoin's movements expressed confidence in his abilities as he poured rubbing alcohol over the burns and turned Jotaro's hand to the side so that it flowed freely across his palm. It stung fiercely like a wasp sting, pulsating as the pain receptors stimulated his brain. Kakyoin smirked ever so slightly at the injured boy's grimace, but was impressed that he didn't instinctively draw it back from the source of the hurt. Next, burn cream was applied to the palm -thankfully for Jotaro, this provided a cooling effect that soothed his screaming cells. The resulting sigh of relief caused a chuckle to arise from Kakyoin. Finally, with surprising expertise, the redhead wrapped his palm with bandages and secured it with clips.

"There we are!" Pulling his lips tight in a toothy smile, the redhead beamed with pride at his work.

Raising an eyebrow, Jotaro did some simple hand motions to test his current pain tolerance. There was only minor discomfort, but no ache. The boy mumbled a thanks, feeling rather awkward suddenly.

"Hopefully, your burns will discourage you from smoking, and also to avoid stepping into fairy circles. If you don't, more bad luck is going to occur."

Blinking at the redhead, all Jotaro could think to respond was: "Yeah."

Now back in the present, Jotaro looked on his first meeting with Kakyoin with some level of fondness. He could still recapture the feelings of annoyance, anger, uneasiness, but it mellowed out with time and a few interesting coincidences. Especially since as their friendship developed more, the two now existed on the line somewhere between friends and lovers. In fact, they were each other's first kiss, which was another strange event.

The kiss took place in the forest, just like their first meeting had. The two boys continued seeing each other out in the woods. Jotaro, at first, despised that his secret location was now a shared space, but Kakyoin would only use the illuminating moonlight to draw in silence. To his surprise, Jotaro was the one to break the ice and ask the redhead what he was drawing. (Jotaro felt compelled in that moment to ask, something he internally criticized himself for because he didn't want the stillness to be interrupted by words.) Again to his surprise, Kakyoin, someone who Jotaro thought was a private person, showed him his entire sketchbook of musings. Together, underneath the strong moonlight, Kakyoin spoke for an hour about his artwork and Jotaro listened with amusement, beginning their friendship.

But the kiss took place two years after their beginning encounter and after a few weeks of zero interaction. It must have been three weeks or so till Jotaro reappeared back in the woods. One of the weeks consisted of Holy wanting to spend quality time with Jotaro and the other two were when his father had returned home from touring. All it meant was that they had to put on a persona of being a loving family despite Sadao's emotional detachment towards his wife and son combined with Jotaro's resentment towards his father. The night Sadao flew away to tour in South America, his son was also out of the house, running back to the ever so calming fairy circle. He wished that those mythical fairies could whisk him somewhere else, the heavenly sky or the depths of hell. Anywhere else but this earth, Jotaro thought as he closed his eyes to await the sprites' kidnapping.

Sadly, when the boy awoke, he was still underneath the familiar night sky.

"Stupid thinking," Jotaro muttered to himself, stirring to stretch his back.

"Don't move."

He didn't even need to look to know who had spoken; Jotaro could recognize Kakyoin's voice even after not hearing it for weeks. It was forcibly deep and rather proper sounding for lack of a better word. Despite the rebellious side of him hollering at Jotaro to squirm some more, he shifted into his previous position: legs crossed and his hands cushioning his head.

"Thank you."

"Are you drawing me?" A useless question since Jotaro could hear the scraping of lead against paper, but he asked anyway.

"Yes."

"How long have you've been drawing me?"

"Um… Thirty minutes maybe?"

"You better make me look good."

"That's easy to do; you've seen my art, you know how good I am."

Jotaro snorted at the redhead's answer. Thinking that Kakyoin was going to compliment him, but then he ended up bragging about himself. The ol' bait and switch.

"I'll finish soon, so stay still until then."

A comfortable silence blanketed the two boys with only the sound of Kakyoin's pencil rubbing against paper traveling across the air. No croaking frogs, no buzzing insects, no leaves rubbing together, no water flowing against the rocks. The forest was silent, and this spurred a realization of how cold it had become. With his mindless rush to the fairy circle, Jotaro didn't comprehend that winter had finally reached its claws into the forest and held it in a tight grasp. As he waited for Noriaki to finish, he registered that the river which he must cross had iced over and the trees had lost their leaves, reminding Jotaro of skeletons. The forest was dead, at least for the time being. The atmosphere only enhanced the sensation that the forest was a world that belonged to the two boys, which was something Jotaro didn't mind. If the world was just himself, Kakyoin, and his artwork, then Jotaro could see himself living like this for awhile, especially after the time spent forcing happiness and obedience. No, here and now, the dead woodland served as a bubble all their own, reminding Jotaro to ask a particular question.

"Kakyoin, are you wearing your binder?"

"Yes."

"How long have you've been wearing it?"

"About four hours."

"Ah."

"What brought on the question? Also raise your chin a bit."

Jotaro did as told. "Just looking out for you."

"Geez, I don't know if I should be flattered or offended that you think I would wear my binder to the point that it's damaging my health."

"Why not both?"

The art model heard Kakyoin laugh airly. "Okay then, thank you and fuck you."

"Fuck you too," Jotaro said, smiling.

"A rare smile is destroying your poker face, Jotaro, but with that," Kakyoin flipped the sketchpad over to show off his work, "I finished up."

Jotaro's eyes, despite being focused in the darkness, couldn't distinguish the lead against the blackness of the woods. "I can't see it, you have to come closer."

Kakyoin stood and walked to the outer rings of the fairy circle, holding out the sketchbook as far as he could without trespassing the fungi. He never stopped believing that stepping into a fairy circle will draw bad things to a person although Jotaro proved him wrong every time he arrived in the sanctum of the forest. Still slightly caught up in the teasing they were doing, Jotaro scoffed and promptly grabbed the redhead's arm and pulled him into the forbidden circle.

It happened in a flash. Jotaro didn't control his strength, causing Kakyoin to topple on him. Incidentally, their mouths smashed against each other, teeth clashing and lips rough, dry. With wide eyes open, they stared at each other, unable to move due to the shock of it all. Both boys registered that this was their first kiss, that the other was their first kiss. Their eyes were still locked on each other's as they unconsciously moved their lips to a more comfortable position. In total, the kiss lasted for ten seconds, but it felt as if time had slowed, dragging out those few seconds into minutes. Kakyoin was the first to move away. He hurriedly scrambled off of Jotaro and stood, avoiding looking at him throughout the process.

"I'm gonna go," the redhead said with a shaky voice. He hid behind the abnormally long lock of hair.

Before Jotaro had a chance to respond, Kakyoin was rushing away from him. Digging his hands into the earth and taking hold of dirt, grass, leaves, grubs, worms, Jotaro stared at Kakyoin's diminishing silhouette. Anger swelled in his gut as he clenched his fist, crushing the insects and feeling their insides spew out onto his palm. The sensation spurred him to realize that he had again lost control of his strength and did something he didn't want to do. As quickly as frustration had boiled in his stomach, it disappeared, leaving behind a feeling of emptiness. His power had humiliated himself and possibly ruined his friendship with Noriaki, and now it had killed things that were just living their simple life of eating, mating, and dying.

Ashamed of his actions, Jotaro looked at his hands stained with grime and guts. Every crevice of his hands was covered in some form of filth, ranging from a layer of dirt to the corpses of the insects. Jotaro's eyes continued looking at his hands, but his mind went numb. His fingernails began to turn blue and his body shook softly in the winter cold. In that moment, everything that was wrong with Jotaro became painfully obvious. Too stubborn, too visceral, too cynical, too hate-filled, too apathetic, too powerful, too intimidating. Either too much or not enough of something.

The fluttering of pages stirred the boy from his thoughts, causing him to turn to the source. In Kakyoin's haste, he had forgotten his sketchbook. Hesitantly, Jotaro crawled to the sketchbook and stared down upon it. The page that the wind had flipped to was blank, clean of any embellishments. On an impulse, grimy hands were placed onto the page and Jotaro smeared the grunge into the page, using force to shove the disgust off of his hands. It defiled the blank paper. Jotaro sat back, sighing as he looked at the mess he had made. He certainly was no artist like Kakyoin.

The thought of the redhead made Jotaro bite his inner cheek. He was tired of his thoughts and this place; he wanted to just head home and sleep. Picking himself up off the ground, Jotaro tucked the sketchbook underneath his arm and walked with heavy feet back home.

Back in the present once again, Jotaro shifted his eyes to Kakyoin's sketchbook, which he had never returned to him. It was hidden between his bedpost and the wall, and had stayed there since its first day in Jotaro's home. Thankfully, after the subsequent encounters since the kiss, albeit being extremely awkward, the two boys had eventually relaxed back into their usual groove. And that groove eventually became much more romantic as more years passed between them. No kissing or anything of the sorts, but hand holding, hair stroking, and lap pillows became normal. Jotaro had thoughts of kissing the redhead but always held himself back. He hoped that Kakyoin shared those same wants and hesitations.

"Jotaro," Holy sing-songed through the bedroom door. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

He didn't even need to turn his head to see her enter his room; Jotaro could feel the atmosphere suddenly brighten, which was a talent of Holy's. She exuded positivity, love, hope, and warmth, which was very ironic considering that her son possessed none of those traits.

She stood behind him, mindlessly played with her son's hair. Jotaro could feel some of her wondrous presence linger and seep into his scalp. "You looked stressed… Is everything okay?"

"Mhm."

"You're a bad liar, you know that, Jotaro," Holy teased, gathering his hair into pigtails. "You do what I do when I lie! You squint."

"I'm just trying to see out into the woods."

Her hands manipulated his hair into a mohawk now. "You're lying again, why don't you just tell me what's wrong, silly."

Jotaro stayed silent, sucking his cheeks in so that he could chew on them.

"Oh! Let me try and guess what's wrong!" Holy exclaimed, clapping her hands together and then returning them back to fiddling with Jotaro's hair. "Let's see… I'm guessing that you started reflecting on the past, recalled a memory you didn't like, and now you made yourself sad. Am I right?"

Silence.

"Let me be more specific. You're thinking about how you never gave back that sketchbook to your friend and you feel guilty about that."

Jotaro snapped his head to look at his mother, his typically flat face expressing all the symptoms of surprise. "How did-"

"Mother's intuition," Holly answered, winking. She smoothed down his hair and kissed the top of Jotaro's head. "Go give back the sketchbook, my dear son."

Jotaro slowly blinked his eyes three times, and the next thing he perceived was himself sprinting through the forest with Kakyoin's sketchbook in his hand. His body moved on its own, and his mind only began to register when the wind whipped his face and cold air stung his nose. A hunch was his only compass to where Kakyoin lived when he saw that the fairy circle was empty. Remembering where the redhead had ran off after the kiss, Jotaro dashed in that direction, his thighs burning and feet going numb as he had forgotten shoes. Tree limbs scratched his skin, rocks dug into the soles of his feet, thorns clung to his bare calves, but Jotaro continued through the pain. He didn't lower his pace until the treeline dispersed, indicating that he had exited the woods. There, standing across from Jotaro, was a house resembling his own. Now feeling the affects of the mad dash through the forest, the teen limped to the house's mailbox. If I've accidentally gone in a circle, I'm going to punch myself, Jotaro thought, feeling blood trickle down his face, his arms, his legs. The mailbox held the Kakyoin name, and Jotaro nearly collapsed in thankfulness.

As he approached the front door, it dawned on the teen that he left his phone back in his room. There was no way to notify Kakyoin that Jotaro was here. Sitting down on the porch, he sighed deeply.

"Of course this would happen," the teen said to himself. He fell back onto the porch, covering his eyes with his hands. Drying blood framed his face and Jotaro cursed the tree branches that produced even more scarring on his cheeks.

"Jotaro, can I ask why you're bleeding all over my porch?"

The tired teen felt a presence sitting next to him. His fatigue must have desensitised his ability of perception, but the voice without a doubt belonged to Kakyoin. The redhead was finally here next to him, but Jotaro couldn't face him. Pathetic.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Saw you through my window while I was taking a break from gaming, now tell me why you're here."

"Because I'm stupid."

"True, but why are you here?"

"I never returned your sketchbook from that night."

Kakyoin snorted. "You still have that old thing?"

"Yeah, I came here to return it."

"At two in the morning?"

"I've delayed it enough already."

Jotaro felt Kakyoin's warm hands on his, wrapping around them and pulling them off his eyes. "Thanks for returning it, but you didn't have to get yourself hurt along the way."

Their eyes were looking back into each other like they were on the night of their first kiss, though this time without the shock. Jotaro felt like he could melt into Kakyoin's hands and his eyes; everything about the redhead was absolutely warm. He wanted to kiss him, but just as he always done before, Jotaro stopped himself.

"Here's the sketchbook," Jotaro said, putting it between their two faces.

"Ah, thank you." Kakyoin took it with one hand and still held onto Jotaro's hand with the other. He tugged at his hand, silently asking him to sit up. "Let's look through this for memories."

Despite wanting to not move, Jotaro rocked himself up a seating position.

The redhead flipped through it, lingering on a few pieces of work that he either loved or hated. He spoke about each sketch in great detail, but Jotaro could only hear a few bits of information. He was exhausted and the words fumbled together in his ears, and being next to Kakyoin felt soothing, like he could rest his head on the redhead's shoulders and fall asleep in a second.

"Hey, hey," Kakyoin spoke softly, prodding Jotaro's stomach to get his attention.

"Huh?"

"This is what I drew that night," he said, tapping the page.

With great force, Jotaro peeled his eyes open and stared at the paper. The portrait of Jotaro was, frankly, horrible. It's purpose was to make fun of Jotaro's sleeping self with disproportionated body and facial features, scrambled words like "yare yare daze" surrounding him, making his hat take up half the page, and other various things to tease him. Jotaro had always hoped that the portrait of him would be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, but truthfully, this wasn't unpredictable. Laughing sleepily, Jotaro rested his head on Kakyoin.

"I haven't looked at what you drew that night till now, and I'm not disappointed."

"Sorry, sorry, I couldn't help it, you looked so silly sleeping out in the middle of a forest."

"Yare yare daze," Jotaro mumbled, closing his eyes.

He could hear Kakyoin fumble through more pages, finding the emptiness of virgin papers. It nearly lulled Jotaro to sleep until the redhead abruptly stopped moving.

"What is this…"

"Hm?" Jotaro strained his eyes open to be greeted with the destruction of art he had impulsively made the night of their first kiss. Dirt and grass smears, caked layers of decaying insect inners, sprinkles of dead leaves amongst the wreckage. Seeing it again slapped him instantly awake as feeling of embarrassment crept in his stomach.

"Care to explain, Jotaro?"

"Ugh," he extravagantly sighed, "I was full of a lot of frustration because I thought I ruined our relationship. I grabbed handfuls of dirt, and just on a whim, rubbed it on the paper. Sorry for making that ugly thing."

Turning to Jotaro, Kakyoin's lips were in a soft smile which appeared nearly condescending on his sharp face. "You know there's beauty in ugly things, right?"

"Which is why you like me, right?" Jotaro mockingly mimicked the redhead's quick comebacks, added with a stupid voice and pinched facial features.

The sketchbook fell into Kakyoin's lap, and his warm hands held onto Jotaro's face which was laced with dried blood. His warm lips were on the other's cold ones. Jotaro truly did melt as a flood of warmth traveled through his body, collapsing back on the porch with Kakyoin on top of him. Unlike their first kiss, this felt so comfortable and natural, their lips perfectly suited for each other. Jotaro's fingers found themselves at the nape of Kakyoin's neck and they entwined themselves amongst his red hair. When they parted from the kiss, Kakyoin was smiling that rare toothy grin that Jotaro loved.

"Yes, that is why I like you, Jotaro Kujo."