It's easy, in the sense that he doesn't have to do anything. He's not supposed to do anything. He lets his body walk itself through the sunset and the early night, and he observes what it does.
A list of things that are difficult:
He was not expecting to have to contend with the need to interrupt everything by grabbing Polnareff's shoulder and spinning him around and hugging him. It's hard to know whether to blame half a year separated from him or the fact that he looks so tired and worn and desperate that he needs the help remaining upright.
Avdol is unconscious, which is probably for the best. He doesn't want him to be unconscious. He wants him to be awake, even if it means he does have to be awake and aware for his current injuries. He should be yelling and screaming and demonstrating that he's alive.
The doctor is there. The one who repaired his eyes. He wants to say something, but it's probably for the best that he can't. He shouldn't exactly distract him from the task of making sure Avdol doesn't bleed out.
He can't hold Jotaro's hand, because this Jotaro doesn't know yet that he loves him. Because this Kakyoin didn't do that, and he's here to observe and not to change.
He can't yell in Dio's face that he's dead. That he's dead, that he stops for good, doesn't start again after a few seconds, and Jotaro and Kakyoin don't. That he became what he is for nothing because he still fucking dies and he's not a god, he's just too chickenshit to deal with being a human.
The painful parts aren't difficult. They rob him of the ability to move about and change things and make this all inaccurate. He doesn't have to force himself not to move. He just has to wait and endure and let the world turn around him.
He returns. He returns smaller, quieter, folded in on himself slightly. Walks into Jotaro and flops against his chest. They have to go back, still. To do this together. But he can spare a moment to grasp at Jotaro's shirt and laugh so hard it hurts, gloating and ugly and cruel. ]
I knew he was dead. I knew he was dead but seeing him. Seeing that fucker actually squirm. Seeing him know he might die.
[ He doesn't say what it is about seeing it, but it's easy enough to intuit from the laughter. He usually keeps the ugliest parts of himself at least mostly under control, but he wouldn't have the energy to spare for that even if Dio was worth it. It's a nasty, maniacal kind of joy, but still joy. ]
no subject
It's easy, in the sense that he doesn't have to do anything. He's not supposed to do anything. He lets his body walk itself through the sunset and the early night, and he observes what it does.
A list of things that are difficult:
The painful parts aren't difficult. They rob him of the ability to move about and change things and make this all inaccurate. He doesn't have to force himself not to move. He just has to wait and endure and let the world turn around him.
He returns. He returns smaller, quieter, folded in on himself slightly. Walks into Jotaro and flops against his chest. They have to go back, still. To do this together. But he can spare a moment to grasp at Jotaro's shirt and laugh so hard it hurts, gloating and ugly and cruel. ]
I knew he was dead. I knew he was dead but seeing him. Seeing that fucker actually squirm. Seeing him know he might die.
[ He doesn't say what it is about seeing it, but it's easy enough to intuit from the laughter. He usually keeps the ugliest parts of himself at least mostly under control, but he wouldn't have the energy to spare for that even if Dio was worth it. It's a nasty, maniacal kind of joy, but still joy. ]