Why am I deciding to post this story when I have another ongoing work in this fandom, as well as another work in another fandom? The world may never know.

It was half past two when Jotaro was wrenched out of the book he was reading by several loud raps on the door. Instantly the possibility of it being a hotel employee was ruled out, since he'd made it clear he was not to be bothered, and the only person who would have the gall to ignore his Do Not Disturb sign would have to be either hostile or drunk. From the other side of the door came Josuke's voice, weighed down and slurred, and from his tone alone Jotaro could tell it was the latter.

"Oi, Jo-ta-ro! Why don't ya open the door, pleeeease? It's hot out here."

He sighed and marked his place in the book, setting it aside before making his way over to the door. Using Star to glance through the peephole revealed a distinctly Josuke-shaped figure swaying just in front of his door, a clear bottle in hand. He sighed again. Opening the door afforded a similar experience, though as Josuke came stumbling into the room Jotaro was caught off guard by the lingering stench of bad breath laced with alcohol.

"S'bout time," the teen mumbled, breezing sloppily past the taller man and brushing against his jacket in the process. "I was about to piss myself."

With Josuke making unintelligible noises in the bathroom as he relieved himself, Jotaro was provided with the opportunity to question the possible strings of poor decisions that had led to this point as he waited just outside the door. If his uncle died under his watch, he knew he would have to answer to both his grandfather and the kid's spitfire mother. He'd prefer not to do either, and in light of this placed a firm hand on Josuke's shoulder as he came stumbling out of the bathroom.

"Oi," he said, the first line he'd uttered since his privacy had been stripped away, "what the hell are you doing?"

The hallway lights reflected off of Josuke's glassy eyes as he stared back at him. Though they were heavily lidded, what little he could see was stained red—not that it was much, since he seemed incapable of forming proper eye contact at the moment. His composure truly was abysmal, and the longer Jotaro stared the more obvious it became that whatever he had been drinking and however long he had spent doing it, it had been enough to utterly wreck his cognitive faculties for the night, if not well into the next day.

"What d'you mean? I'm goin' ta sleep," Josuke slurred, clumsily bringing the bottle up to his lips.

Jotaro snatched it out of his hands before he could get one more drop, and the teen either didn't notice or didn't care, allowing the older man to steer him towards the bed.

"Yare yare," he intoned as he sat Josuke down, eyeing the nearly empty bottle of tequila. "It hasn't even been a week since we got rid of that Stand user and already you're acting like an idiot teenager." Casting a glance at him, he shook his head. "Wait here. I'll call your mother."

Jotaro made to go get the phone, but was stopped in his tracks by Josuke's (surprisingly strong, given his state) grip on his wrist, which was followed soon after by two arms locked tightly around his waist, fisted hands and sharp fingers digging into his coat.

"S'why…that's why…don't call her, please…"

He angled his head backwards, glanced at the teen currently groveling into his clothes, and said, "Let go."

Josuke's grip only tightened. "Please, Jotaro…"

"Only if you let go of me."

To his surprise, Josuke did as he was told, wringing his hands as he held his head between his legs. "Thanks…"

"…What do you mean, 'that's why'?"

"Hm?"

"You said 'that's why,' when I said you were acting like an idiot teenager." It may have been presumptuous of him to expect a straightforward answer from someone so obviously plastered, but if the alternative was sitting in awkward silence as he listened to his uncle hiccup, he'd be willing to bide his time until Josuke got tired and fell asleep; he could call Tomoko later. To his surprise, Josuke actually made eye contact before answering, and in the shiny depths he read something that he recognized.

It was the same something he saw in the mirror every morning.

"Since we got rid of him," he muttered. "S'why. Can't sleep, can't think…can't fix it…"

Somehow, watching Josuke desperately struggle to force out more words was starting to make Jotaro feel sick, but he didn't say anything in response—couldn't, perhaps, may have been a better way to put it.

"I keep thinking he's dead, ya know, we killed him, but then he's not when I'm asleep, and everyone else is. And you, and Mom, and Okuyasu…Okuyasu died too, and I can't stop it. I can't fix it…" He hung his head, buried his face in his hands. "I just wanna sleep."

He thought he felt words bubbling to the surface, but just as soon as he registered them they were thrust from his mind by Josuke springing to his feet, knocking the bottle out of Jotaro's hand as he sprinted towards the bathroom. Dazed, he stayed where he was as the bottle shattered on the floor, the remaining tequila soaking into the carpet, shards separating and catching the individual rays of light as they took up their new residence—and in the background, he could hear the sounds of Josuke retching into the toilet.

When he stepped into the bathroom, the stench of vomit was both palpable and unmistakable. He found his uncle slumped over, gripping the sides of the bowl as he dry-heaved, what little had previously been in his stomach not enough to offset his body's attempt to purge itself. Not knowing what else to do, Jotaro stood outside the door, leaving it cracked so as to keep an eye on him.

After the retching had subsided, he pulled his uncle off the floor, sat him on the toilet, and made him drink some water. Then, without uttering a word, he led him back to the bed and sat him down while he placed some pillows against the headboard; when he was done, he made Josuke lean against them, not daring to possibly make him sick again by having him lie down too fast. When that was done, he busied himself with cleaning up the glass shards, opting to save the tequila-soaked carpet for the hotel staff.

As he fumbled around on the floor, he saw Josuke sit up out of the corner of his eye.

"I can…" he mumbled. "S'my fault. Let me fix it."

"Go back to sleep. I'll handle this."

He shook his head vehemently. "I can fix it! Crazy Diamond!"

His Stand emerged, but it was behaving oddly—its movements were uncertain and clumsy, and Jotaro watched as it glanced anxiously between its user and Jotaro.

What am I supposed to do about it? He wanted to say it out loud, but didn't, knowing that it wouldn't accomplish anything. "It's fine, Josuke."

"Crazy Diamond!"

Jotaro watched impassively as the Stand attempted to fix the bottle regardless, all the shards and the leftover tequila rushing back towards each other with spastic, uncoordinated movements whose end result resembled something one would get from warping heated glass. The tequila wouldn't even stay inside, and dripped back onto the carpet.

"Damn," Josuke cursed. "Try again, Crazy D…we can fix it…" As he tried to push himself to his feet, Jotaro stood up and stopped him with a firm hand to the chest.

"You can't fix anything in your state," he deadpanned, pushing the teen back against the pillows. "Just try to get some sleep. If you need to throw up again, there's a trash can right next to you." Pausing, he said, "I have to call your mother, Josuke. She's probably worried."

Once again, Josuke shook his head. "Don't tell her."

"…I'll tell her that you're spending the night here. Is that okay with you?"

He nodded.

Jotaro breathed a sigh of relief. "Fine. Is there someone you do want me to call?"

He already had an idea of what the answer would be, and was unsurprised when Josuke hiccupped "Okuyasu."

This story is only going to have two chapters, so at least it's not long. Honestly, I just felt like writing this, and I had some free time, so I decided to post it. My other stories' updates are already in progress, anyway. I hope you guys like it, and thanks for reading.