There was a silent ritual between Kakyoin and Hierophant, one that started so long ago he could not remember a time when they did not have it. Whenever he was genuinely distressed or in serious pain, the stand would lay a hand on his shoulder and just keep it there until his master's fingers met his. There was no force in their grasp, just a brief squeeze of reassurance that things would turn out all right in the end. Hierophant did not have a voice but that gentle touch said everything that needed to be said between them. I'm here. I know.
That was why when he regained consciousness in a cramped car with a bloody bandage over his eyes, his hand had instinctively reached for the one resting on his shoulder only to be met with human warmth instead of Hierophant's velvet smooth skin. Jotaro's voice was low as he shifted carefully letting Kakyoin's body rest against him, "I'm here."
Kakyoin suppressed a tired smile, feeling his muscles relax despite the stabbing pain. His fingers brushed fleetingly against Jotaro's as he replied, "I know."