A god without a halo.

[He reaches back and pinches his nose sharply.]

Very funny. That isn’t what I meant.

[He raises his eyebrow.]

It certainly is easy to say that. I just…

[Turning around fully–as best as he can, anyway–and rests against him. Feeling beside himself, he furrows his brows and lets out a sigh of his own.]

Did you know that humans die when they are killed, Jojo? It’s a fact of nature, believe it or not.

[As he ruffled Jonathan’s hair, he lets out a humorless laugh.]

So this was my fate…

[Dipping his head forward, he gives somewhat of a self-deprecating laugh, smiling with little mirth. He tries not second-guessing the meaning behind his gesture, turning a bit and resting his hand on his, winding his fingers through his.]

I do not know what is left for me, in the present. Nor the future. Dio, I feel lost–and I haven’t a clue how to feel about my new chance at “life.”

Yes.

[He sighs and lets the coolness of his skin run dry through his pores. Sighing once more, he leans forward and nuzzles his hair.]

You would know.

[He gives up on moving his legs too much, simply wrapping his arms–unfamiliar, mismatched–around himself. Melancholy really doesn’t suit him, and yet here he is, wrapped up in it.]

Fate can’t be twisted, Jonathan.

[His words are pull taut and his fingers continue to comb through his hair.]

[He tries to endure his petulance for a few moments, but it’s clear that he has no patience today. Using whatever strength he has left, he starts trying to bat his hand away, growling deep in his throat.]

This is not living. I made my peace with you, and you thought it fitting to bring me back merely to rub salt in my wounds.

If you wanted to kick me while I am down, congratulations.

There’s a lot more than salt in your wounds, boy.

[Leaning over to pat him on his side, he sighs softly as his cold fingers brush through his hair.]

[That headrub makes him the happiest Kakyoin around!]

Nonsense. Take it from me and have the day off.

[He snaps his fingers.]

A gentleman, certainly. I’ve never heard of any gentleman referring to the ones in his care as cockroaches.

…

[Turning over and sitting up, he leans over and “accidentally” presses his hand onto Jonathan’s head. With weight against it, he smothers his lifeless face into the pillow.]

But I thought you loved living and you were eternally thankyou over the fact that I gave you a second chance?

Oh, how things change.

That’s good, that’s good. If there’s always someone to rely on, it’s you.

Listen. Just because I’m a being of the undead doesn’t mean I’m not a gentleman. If I’m supposed to take care of you cockroaches I’m supposed to be---

#I would applaud... if I was a lesser man.

… oddly enough, that… isn’t much of a comfort.

No. 

Oh… I see.

...