Author's note: Hello! Welcome to another chapter. The story is about to earn its M rating for another reason. A little element of romance (and yes, sex) will be coming into the story now.

Thank you, xenocanaan!

Happ reading!

The next day as she had promised, Layla and Jotaro went to the cemetery. Layla wore her new black dress, a plain long sleeved A line dress made of a cozy and soft angora/wool blend. Jotaro wore his school uniform as always. At least it was black.

First, they went to a grocery store to buy cherries since they were Kakyoin's favorite food. He picked up a jar of maraschino cherries with the stems on and cherry scented incense sticks to place at the grave. Jotaro also bought a pack of cigarettes made with cherry flavored tobacco at a convenience store as well. They paused at a shrine to ring the bell, throw money into a box, and pray.

When did Jotaro become religious and start praying?, Layla wondered, cracking open her eye to peek at him from her peripheral vision as they stood there side by side with their palms pressed together and their heads bowed. When she saw him lower his hands and raise his head, she did the same, keeping her eyes facing forward toward the shrine alter.

Layla followed him out of the temple. An older couple walked arm and arm leaning heavily on each on their way up the steps while she and Jotaro walked down, him two steps in front of her. A smile spread across her lips as she observed the couple gripping the thick rope together to ring the bell.

For some reason, Jotaro stopped in the middle of the all but deserted courtyard and looked around. They were visiting a local shrine rather than a tourist destination so there were only a few people there. A white robed priest raised his clasped hands and nodded to her as he passed, and she returned the greeting in kind. Her eyes returned to Jotaro who continued to stand there looking around as if lost.

What is he doing? I know what he's not doing. He's not going to the cemetery, she thought but kept her thoughts to herself. The way he procrastinated, all of these little side trips and pointless pauses, made her worry he was losing his nerve to actually go to the grave. Visiting Kakyoin's final resting place, saying an official good-bye, would make his death all too real to Jotaro.

"I'll be right back," he said, walking toward the little building they had passed at the entrance gate.

Layla had not taken much note of it when they came in and mused what could possibly be in there that he would feel the need to go inside. Giggling to her left caught her attention.

Two girls dressed in their school uniforms, sailor collared navy blue dresses, tilted their heads together to whisper while keeping their eyes on Jotaro while he strode past them oblivious to their existence. When he entered the building, they tittered again, clutching hands and hopping up and down.

Layla could not help but chuckle herself. Ah, the curse of being a handsome Joestar man. One can't go anywhere without garnering the attention of all the women - and some men for that matter. She had seen girls that age get all giddy over Joseph despite his advanced years.

She sighed wistfully. What is married life like for a Joestar wife? Must be difficult. Not only do you have the constant paranoia of impending doom lurking after your husband but there's also the threat of the human predator who would like to seduce them into their own beds. At the very least there is always yearning looks and lots of flirtatious admirers to contend with. She was far too possessive and jealous for that mess. Lucky for Jotaro, he managed to be too scary to approach which curtailed most of the unwanted flirting.

Layla bit her lower lip, pondering the possibility of Joseph cheating on Suzi. Surely he hadn't. They had a great marriage and were pnly weeks away from fifty wonderful years. Although he traveled a lot and spent more time away from his wife than with her, Joseph adored his wife and loved her more than life itself - that was easy to see. Besides, she wanted to think the best of the man because she loved them both and could not bear the thought of such a betrayal.

"Here," Jotaro declared sternly, frightening her out of her thoughts.

Layla winced, whipping her head toward him. She flinched again to see he held something mere inches from her face, so close she could not even see what it is. Backing away a step, her eyes focused on the dark green piece of silk embroidered with gold thread. It looked like a luggage tag or a bookmark to her.

"What's this?" she asked, taking it from him to turn it over and over in her hand. There was something inside of it, stitched between the two layers of silk.

"It's an omamori. What you would call a good luck charm. This one is for good health, safety, and well-being," he explained, taking the tag out of her hand. "As a nurse I thought you could appreciate that. Especially considering who your patient is."

Layla glanced up at Jotaro's unsmiling face making her unsure if he was making light of his grandfather or being deadly serious. After their little field trip to save his mother, Jotaro Kujo now knew firsthand how trouble had a way of finding his Joseph Joestar. And Jotaro was always serious - too serious. She laughed lightly anyway.

"I definitely can. Thank you," she said, snatching the charm out of his hand and slipping it safely into her purse. "I'll keep it near me all the time."

"That's the idea," he returned, shoving his hands deep into his pockets as he walked past her toward the exit. "It's also supposed to bring peace and prosperity to the family members of the one who holds it. Taking care of my family, all of my family, is important to me."

Layla could feel her face heating with a blush making her glad he was in front of her with his back to her and could not see it. Hearing him refer to her as family brought her great pleasure. It also made her heart happy to know he trusted her to take care of his grandparents as their nurse.

"Supposedly the luck runs out after a year. You will have to come back next year to get a new one. We can return that one to the temple together and get a new one," he said, his pace quickening a bit.

Layla's entire body flushed with happiness. Was he inviting her to come back and visit him next year on a more personal level? She reminded herself not to get all excited and act like a lovesick child. He was probably just being nice and polite, not really meaning what she thought he might be saying. But then again, being nice and polite was not really something he did on a regular basis.

"Hurry up," he muttered irritably as she ran to catch up. "You need to walk faster so we can make it to his grave before it gets dark."

Layla pressed her lips together so forcefully they formed a straight white line to keep nasty words from flying out. It was his fault they were running late. She jogged beside him in her high heels in order to keep up with his long legged strides otherwise she would outpaced swiftly and left behind.

After walking another block, gray and white marble obelisks and white cement columns, both around two or three feet tall began to appear becoming more and more numerous as they approached the entrance gates to the cemetery.

Layla dropped behind him, allowing Jotaro to walk through the concrete columns of the entrance gate first. Her eyes followed his every movement as he went to the spigots to wash his hands then picked up a little wooden bucket and ladle, one of the many placed neatly on the shelves of the little lean to shed near the water faucets.

Despite the already chilling temperature, she washed her hands in the frigid water while he filled the bucket. She followed him along the paths until they reached a white marble two foot tall square column bearing the family name of Kakyoin in kanji.

Jotaro handed Layla his engraved silver lighter to ignite two of the incense sticks. The cherry scented smoke wafted through the air in thin white trails as she held them while he carefully poured the water over the grave marker. Her thumb absentmindedly traced the four English letters etched into the lighter spelling out the four letter family nickname for the Joestar descendants: Jojo.

When Jotaro was done washing the already spotless column, she stepped forward, carefully lowering herself to poke the incense into the sand filling the little black pot. Layla moved back to the place she had been standing, allowing him to step up to the narrow space allotted for the family grave.

He placed the glass jar full of intensely red cherries on the gray concrete square at the bottom of the marker. Layla placed her palms together and bowed her head. His shoes crunched on the gray rocks as he took the step backwards to stand beside her.

A comfortable, peaceful silence followed as they stood there, her with her head bowed and Jotaro with his hands in his pockets staring at the column. Keeping her eyes shut tightly, she gave him the pretense of privacy to grieve and say good-bye without being held under unnecessary and intrusive scrutiny.

It was so quiet. Nothing seemed to move - not even time itself. Oddly, there was a soothing tranquility about the place and this moment. Neither one of them felt sadness or the desire to weep.

Jotaro took the pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his coat. Layla heard the crinkle of the plastic as he opened the pack. Opening her eyes, she reached into her purse to retrieve the lighter and handed it to him. She kept her eyes on the grave as he lit the cigarette. More cherry scented smoke, permeated the air.

Although cold and shivering, Layla did not complain as Jotaro took his time savoring the cigarette, spending a few last moments with his friend, to bid him farewell. When he was done, Jotaro stubbed out the cigarette on the rocks of the path and pocketed the butt to throw it away in a trash bin somewhere else.

Not a word passed between them the entire way back home. There was no need for words. There was nothing Layla could say to take away the pain of his loss and soothe his hurting heart. Truly only time could heal that wound. Hopefully.

"I'm going to bed. Tell Mom I'm sorry, but I...I just don't have an appetite," Jotaro told her, bypassing the kitchen where his mother and grandparents were gathered for dinner.

"I will," she assured him as he kept walking. Her eyes followed him as he continued along the porches to his room and disappeared inside.

Holly slid open the kitchen door as Layla continued to stand on the porch. She had been watching her son from the window. She stepped out onto the porch to stand beside the sad faced nurse.

"How is he?" she asked, both of them looking toward the closed door of his room.

"As good as can be expected. Handling it in true Jotaro fashion. Quiet. Stoic. Not shedding a tear," she said, feeling like shedding one herself for him. He would probably be offended by the sentiment and show of empathy so she sniffed to hold the tears back.

"That's my son," Holly sighed, placing her hand on the nurse's shoulder. "Is he going to be okay?"

"Everyone grieves differently," she rejoined, turning to face the worried mother. "He's going to be fine."

Holly sighed as the tears ran from her eyes. She blotted them away with her kitchen towel.

"Oh, my poor boy. We'll all miss Noriaki, but he will definitely miss him the most."

~\'/~

Later that night before going to bed, Layla stood in front of Jotaro's door. She glanced down at the untouched dinner plate still covered in plastic wrap that been placed there for him hours ago in case he was hungry.

"Oh, Jotaro," she sighed sadly.

As she turned to go, assuming he was asleep, she heard shuffling inside his room. The door slid back revealing a disheveled mess of a man. Wearing nothing but a pair of black sweatpants, he peered at her through cracks between swollen, red rimmed eyelids. His hair, usually hidden under his hat, was an absolute wreck from where he had been running his hands through it repeatedly. Thick patches stuck up in the back as if he tried to pull the hair there out.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I-I'll l-leave," she stammered, backing away even as he reached for her.

Jotaro's fingers enclosed her wrist, his grip as strong and secure as an iron manacle. He pulled her forward into his room, closing the door behind her. Her heart clenched, skipping several beats as his shaking hands settled on her hips. Placing her hands on his bare chest, she stared up at his face while his fingers moved against her sides, pulling up her dress and gathering the material in his hands.

Layla opened her mouth to speak when the bottom of her skirt reached her upper thighs. The yearning, the despair, in his glassy eyes made her stop before making any protest. Closing her mouth, she took a step back, raising her arms straight above her head so he could snatch off her dress using one forceful pull with both of his hands.

Jotaro backed her up to his futon, his hands sliding around her torso. She inhaled sharply as the light touch of his calloused fingers raised goosebumps along her skin as they fumbled with the back of her bra to unhook it. Once it was free, he stepped back allowing the lingerie to fall to the floor. His eyes remained on hers rather than moving down to her bared breasts.

Layla opened her mouth again and tried to speak. The only sound she made was a gasp when his fingers grazed her belly on their way to her panties. As the tips curved over the top of her panties, she sucked in her abdomen until it became concave.

His fingernails scraped her skin as his pushed her underwear down. The material gliding along her hips sent an electrical twinge of anticipation up her spine. Once past her thighs, gravity took over and her panties slid to the floor to join her bra.

Layla stepped out of her underwear and backwards toward the bed while he bent to take off his sweatpants. She inhaled sharply when his arm hooked around her shoulders, pulling her forcefully into his chest momentarily stealing her breath.

Jotaro simply stared down at her for a long moment, his eyes glittering in the limited light inside the room. She could feel her entire body trembling in his arms. He lowered his head, placing a brief, tender kiss squarely on her mouth. Then his other hand gripped her hip so he could lower her to the futon.

What am I doing? WHAT AM i DOING?!, her brain screamed, launching into full panic mode when he pushed his knee between hers to spread her thighs apart. She knew she should say no. But she couldn't. The agonizing hurt and the need for comfort in his eyes kept her silent. Besides, she did not want to say no.

Layla pressed her hands to his chest as he hovered above her, positioning himself between her legs. She could feel his heart beating wildly, fluttering like a caged bird, under her palm. Hers was thundering in her chest and her ears.

Huge and hulking, he loomed over her like a dark and beautiful beast. Profound grief and intense anger hardened the angles of his face making him look more severe and imposing than usual. He was still furious with Dio for taking Kakyoin from him.

Layla pondered if Jotaro and Noriaki were just friends or something more. Whatever they were or could have been, no longer mattered. That devastating reality made her want to cry. Noriaki was gone and Jotaro was left behind, hurting.

Layla reached up, touching his cheek with shaking fingers. Her other hand rested on his hip, pulling him forward to give him the invitation to take her. Her fingernails scratched at his satiny smooth skin as he pushed into her.

Jotaro leaned over her, pushing in deeper until he was settled completely inside of her warm, wet, and accepting body. Bracing himself on his elbows, he kissed her forehead. While pulling his hips back, he nuzzled the tip of her nose with his own. On the downward glide which sent tingling pleasure rippling through his body, he pressed his lips to one of her cheeks then the other. This time he pushed a little further, striking her womb, which made her jump and writhe under him with a moan.

The initial bump of the head of his penis against the deepest part of her set off a shock of pain but was followed by sparks of bliss as he drew back. Tilting up her chin, Layla wanted his kiss on her lips as he slid his hips forward. She sighed with satisfaction as his mouth placed a tender peck on hers. Her hand went to the back of his neck. When he lifted his head along with his hips, she pulled his lips back to hers for another kiss.

Jotaro thrust down into her with all of his might making her rip her away mouth from his to cry out in pleasure. Holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned her head back so he could cover her mouth with his. Placing his other hand by her shoulder to brace himself and find leverage, he pressed his knees into the futon and shoved into her again. He opened his mouth to keep hers covered to stifle her moan. He continued to pull back and push forward with short, forceful hip movements.

This is the sex Layla expected. Hard, fast, furious sex meant to work through his grief and anger. Although the gentle lovemaking he started with was oh so tender and sweet, even she wanted the fierce, almost violent, fucking he was giving her now. She would accept his pain and make it her own to alleviate at least some of his hurting.

Her hands grasped his ass, the muscles squirming against her palm as he worked his hips like a piston. Her fingernails penetrated his smooth, flawless skin, digging into the rigid muscle underneath.

Jotaro let her chin go, slipping his hand under her head to lift it. Layla pressed her lips to his beefy pectoral muscle to muffle her moan. Seizing a handful of her loose hair, he tugged - hard. Her howl of pleasurable pain was reduced to a pitiful whimper by his flexing chest.

Jotaro pushed her across the mattress when he shoved himself into her again forcefully. She did not complain. She opened her legs wider, clawing his ass again like a vicious cat. He did not want to hurt her, but she accepted his pain, taking it from him.

When the end came, he actually saw stars, flashes of white color bursting along the eyelids of his closed eyes like fireworks against the night sky. As he emptied everything into her, a sense of calm enveloped him.

Layla stroked his face with one hand and massaged his neck and shoulders with the other as his body shuddered on top of hers. Finding the strength to move before he crushed her, Jotaro rolled onto his side to lay beside her. Although his eyes were not open, he could feel her moving as if getting ready to leave. His hand pressed against her chest over her heart which beat fast and irregular.

"Don't go," he whispered, pushing her back down on the bed.

Layla rolled onto her side to face him. He could feel her warm breath brushing over his mouth seconds before her lips did. Her hand rested on his chest over his heart. His face had relaxed, the hard lines of anger smoothing and leaving only his usual handsome angular features. Her fingers traced his jaw and high cheekbones, then drifted across his browline. He no longer looked cold and hard like he had been chiseled out of marble.

Layla kissed his forehead then the tip of his nose. Her lips brushed across his again in a good night kiss.

"Layla, I - "

"Shhh!" She pressed her finger to his lips. Lifting her finger, she placed another kiss to his lips. "Don't apologize. Don't say anything except good night."

Jotaro exhaled noisily through his nose.

"Good night," he said.

Layla closed her eyes, snuggling up to his chest and nuzzling between his prominent pecs. He placed his arm over her waist and held her close. She knew eventually a discussion would have to be had about this incident, but not tonight.

~\'/~

The next morning, Jotaro woke up alone. He stared up at the supporting beams on the ceiling. Layla had been with him last night. Hadn't she?

Groaning, he rolled over and pulled the comforter up to his chin. His head ached from dehydration. Closing his eyes, an image of Layla formed in his head; she was naked and under him with her eyes shut tight and her mouth open wide as she moaned in pleasure. They had sex last night. Or was it a really good dream?

He was naked, crusted with sweat, and sticky in all the right places for sex. It was definitely a memory and not a dream. Finding it difficult to move, he continued laying on the futon like a slug. But he needed to get up. He had classes today so he forced himself to get moving.

After a shower, Jotaro went to the kitchen to find food. He woke up hungrier than usual. Strangely, the kitchen was deserted. No one seemed to be home at all.

His breakfast waited for him on the table under a layer of plastic film: rolled omelet, grilled fish, miso soup, and rice. His belly growled. He would eat first then figure out where everyone went. Without bothering to heat the food, he sat down and ate.

As he was taking his dishes to the sink, the door opened. Layla entered almost bumping right into his chest when he turned toward her.

"Good morning," she greeted him like any other morning, smiling up at him before sidestepping him to get to the coffee pot.

"Morning," he said, his eyes following her.

When Layla passed him, her shoulder brushed his. Every muscle in his body tensed from the casual touch. She was wearing a purple sweatshirt with the collar cut out over acid washed jeans. Bare foot as always. She was up on her tiptoes trying to reach a coffee cup in the cabinet.

Jotaro moved behind her, purposely pressing his chest into her back his fingers gliding along the back of her hand before he reached past her straining fingertips to pick up the pink cup rimmed in gold. He stepped back, extending the cup to her as she pivoted on ther toes with the grace of a ballerina to face him.

"Thank you," she said, her fingers brushing along his as she reached for the cup. Her face turned the same light pink on the cup.

Turning back to the coffee pot, she poured her cup full. Since he was still standing behind her, she extricated her body from between his and the counter by simply shuffling to the right.

"Where is everyone?" Jotaro asked.

"They went for a walk. We discussed it last night after dinner. It will be good for all of them to take a good long stroll this morning."

How convenient.

Tossing him a casual smile as she passed to get the refrigerator, she seemed more intent on getting her cream and could care less that he was even there. She acted like it just another morning. No big deal. Her actions and lack of enthusiasm upon seeing him made him begin to doubt again they had actually shared an intimate encounter last night.

What did he expect? To be greeted with a kiss? For her to be fawning all over him? To hear declarations of love and promises of forever? Actually...he did expect those things. That is exactly how all of the girls at school reacted to him. And he had not even had sex with them.

What is this woman's deal?, he mused as she poured cream into her coffee then replaced the carton to bump the door closed with her hip. Wow, lady, you are cold. Even colder than me.

Jotaro reminded himself she was a grown woman and not a schoolgirl after all. Besides, he would prefer for her to act this way rather than annoying and desperately clingy like those girls. Baffled by his own thoughts, he shrugged and turned to the sink to rinse off the dishes.

"Are we going to talk about last night?" he asked her, noting her steps faltered slightly but she covered it well by leaning forward to place her coffee cup on the table acting if she meant to make an abrupt halt and almost drop her cup.

"If you feel like we need to," she replied flatly, choosing to sit in the chair his mother always sat in at the head of the table that way her back would be to him.

She may not be clingy or lovestruck, but she definitely felt something after last night. Taking her into his bed had not been a matter of conquest but comfort. He had needed her healing touch in the worst way. She had understood that and willingly gave him what he needed.

The heart rending sadness...the memories, both good and bad... the overwhelming sense of loss had been about to drive him insane. He had thought he wanted to grieve alone. But once the tears came, he feared he might not be able to stop them. That is why he was determined not to feel anything. It hurt too damn much.

Jotaro had been unable to breathe. And then...she was there. Layla appeared, and he inhaled. All he could do was take her into his arms and breathe her in.

He needed to be as close to her as possible, become a part of her. She alleviated his pain. Though it wasn't gone, the soul crushing melancholy had become tolerable. He felt closer to normal than he had in a while. He thought he would never feel normal again.

Jotaro walked over and took the seat to her right. She would at least have to see him a little in her peripheral vision even if she did not look at him straight on.

"It can't happen again," she said as he opened his mouth to speak.

"Why not?" he inquired, anger boiling in his gut as she stared into her cup she held between her hands. "It meant nothing to you after all. It was just sex."

"Oh, you think it meant nothing to me," she said, her voice low and shaky. When she raised her eyes to his, they were glossy with tears. "What else am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to act?"

Jotaro did not say a word. For once he was not simply being a stoic asshole and holding his tongue. He honestly had no answer for those questions because he did not know.

Not a single tear fell as her eyes lowered to her cup. She picked it up and took a big drink of the scalding hot fluid. If it burned her tongue, she did not react in anyway to show it did.

"How far do you think we can go, Jotaro, huh? Do you actually think we can have a real relationship?" she inquired, sounding as bitter as her burnt coffee tasted.

"We could see how far it would go. Nothing lasts forever," he said in his low monotone.

"No, it doesn't," she agreed, drinking again. This time she grimaced.

"If it's the age thing, you can't possibly be that much older than me," he stated matter of factly.

Surprisingly, he did not receive an evil eye from her at the mention of age. No definitive number was divulged either. He did not need it. The old man already told him Layla was only twenty-one. Hell, Gramps told him her whole life story while on their adventure.

Layla was an orphan who had been under the care of the Speedwagon Foundation since she was three. She was a prodigy who graduated high school at the age of fourteen. Inspired by her adoptive father, the director of the New York Speedwagon Hospital, she went to nursing school. She graduated at the top of her class, early again, at the age of seventeen. The first patient she attended on her first day of being an official nurse was none other than Joseph Joestar.

What if he had not been her first every patient? Or if she had never made his acquaintance at all? Then she wouldn't be sitting here right now drinking stale, overheated coffee that had been left sitting far too long in the pot while having an intensely uncomfortable conversation with the grandson of her new employer.

"Besides, you know that Grandma Suzi is a few years older than Gramps. He was only nineteen when they were married."

"Married," she scoffed, pushing the cup away from her before she was tempted to take another sip to wet her dry throat.

Jotaro did not strike her as the marrying type. If she had to be truthful, she found it difficult to picture him being lovey-dovey with a significant other. His wife would have to understand up front her marriage would contain only exceedingly rare moments of tenderness and affection.

Not to mention she would have an absentee husband if Jotaro followed in his father and grandfather's footsteps. They had been here nearly three months and Sadao Kujo had yet to show his face at his own home. He never knew his wife was dying because Suzi refused to tell him and forbid Layla from mentioning it should she answer his phone call. If he called. Which he didn't.

Sadao Kujo, a world famous musician. That damn man put his music career above his wife and son. Joestar women had a tendency to choose men with somewhat fucked up priorities no matter how good their hearts might be. Yet another reason she did not want to join the ranks of a small and lonely group. But she was assuming too much and taking too big of a leap in thought.

What kind of father would Jotaro be? Cold, distant, and nonexistent probably. she hated making such a harsh assessment but from what she knew about him, that is what she based her guess on. Not that people can't change, but -

"Hey! Are listening to me?" Jotaro demanded grumpily.

Her eyes swung to him. He glared at her.

"I hate it when you get all up in your head like that and drift away," he grumbled.

"Hmmm, I can't exactly see you as husband or family man material. I just don't understand why," she retorted with blatant sarcasm, raising a dubious eyebrow.

"I would love to disagree with you but I can't," he said, pushing his chair back from the table. "I've got to go to school."

Jotaro paused at the door before walking out to glance back at her sitting at the table. Layla stared out of the window, absentmindedly sipping her coffee. Her body was right there, a few feet away from him, but her mind was hundreds, maybe thousands, of miles away.

"I'm gone," he announced, sliding back the door.

"Study hard at school today," she told him as he stepped one foot out onto the porch. "If you need help with anything, I'll be here when you get home."

What was going to happen when she was not here anymore? Eventually, his grandparents would return to New York, and she would be going with them.

Well, it's for the best. He had a life to get on with. Unlike Gramps, he would not saddle himself with a woman early on. Graduating from high school and going to university, he needed to be free to explore everything life had to offer.

His heart thumped heavily in his chest. His footfalls quickened, hitting the wooden planks with loud sharp bangs. Whatever you think you're feeling, you're not. She was a temporary fix. You don't love her. If you don't feel love, you don't feel the pain.