Jotaro didn't want to feel bitterness.
He didn't want to feel jealousy.
Looking at this boy, his uncle, however, Jotaro couldn't quite contain the acidic taste from clawing at the back of his tongue.
It was hard to watch Josuke smile with his friends, to see them laugh and joke, worry free.
He couldn't help but to see a flash of red hair, a swirl of dark skin, a brush against his leg. He could see their smiles on those young faces, their laugh in this small town air.
He would never see them again. Never hear their voices. Never feel them lean against him.
Jotaro's chest felt tighten as he watched the group of high schoolers. It was an unwelcome pain that stabbed at him and thickened his throat till he felt like he couldn't breathe.
Kakyoin, Avdol, Iggy - friends lost to battles, friends he couldn't save, friends he couldn't protect.
Jotaro wanted to be happy that he was able to help his uncle avoid that pain for the most part. To allow Josuke a relatively happy life.
But the bitterness overwhelmed him.
"Ah, isnt this nice," Joseph's voice drawled. "The young should be happy in such good weather."
The old man said it into the air, but Jotaro felt like it was directed at him.
Jotaro grunted in reply, but after a beat of silence where his chest tried to rip itself apart, he felt like he had to say more.
"Thinking about how little someone had to give up in comparison to yourself can sour any good feelings." The words had a lemony taste. Not the fresh twang of the juice but rather the bitter green taste of the seeds that made Jotaro want to roll his tongue in an effort to get the taste out.
Even as he said it, Jotaro hated himself for being angry that the teenager didn't have to feel the loss of a close friend's death as he had - to feel the loss of multiple close friends.
Yes, Josuke had known those who died. His grandfather, a boy he was tentative friends with, and those he knew briefly, but it wasn't the same. He didn't lose Okuyasu, he didn't lose Koichi. His closest friends were alive and well.
Jotaro's were not.
Joseph hummed, rubbing his metal hand with a small smile on his face.
"I don't think those lost would be happy to know they soured any good weather for those of us left."
Jotaro was wrenched back, as if the old man's words had grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and jerked him uncomfortably out of his chair.
Somehow the pain felt worse, like some dam had been broken. Jotaro felt his hands tremble, his vision swim, and he gritted his teeth.
"Sometimes, the living have to ensure that others never feel that sourness, that today's youth don't get their innocence stripped from them as those who have lost much have," Joseph sighed wistfully. "Sometimes it's okay for those who survived to mourn those that never got to feel good weather like today."
Jotaro wanted to say something back, but he chocked and no words would pass through his lips.
"Misery loves company," Joseph shuffled in his seat, exchanged the order of his hands on his cane. He threw a smile over at his grandson, the slight pull of his lips filled with a type of bitterness that had lost its cold sting but rather left a faint grim on the back of the tongue. "But I think it's better for those that are miserable to gather together instead of feel jealousy that others can be free of such pain."
Jotaro tsked through his teeth, pulling his hat down further over his eyes.
"Shut up old man." He finally got out, the words losing any bite to them as he leaned against the hand that settled on top of his on the café tabletop.
