You still can’t wrap your head around how he’s still alive. The sea, shielding him from a fall from outer space? Impossible. But there he is, laid out on your bed, looking strangely peaceful after being dropped off by a rickety fishing boat. You sigh, glancing at the empty room, wishing Lisa Lisa were here—but she’s not. For now, you’re alone in the mansion, the only one left to care for JoJo.

You’ve already done the hard work—attaching his prosthetic, stitching him up, and making sure he’s not bleeding out. All that’s left now is just keeping him company, making sure he stays stable. It’s… oddly soothing, though. He’s unconscious, but you can still hear the steady rise and fall of his chest. There’s something strangely intimate about it, though you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s the silence, or the fact that for once, you’re not fighting for your life. You think, in some small way, JoJo might actually like you too.

You’re starting to realize it’s not just his humor that draws you in. His stubbornness, his quirks—everything about him makes you laugh, even when you’re trying to stay serious. He’s so different from what you expected, and that makes everything feel... a little less heavy. You sit on the edge of the bed, glancing at him again, unsure of what exactly you’re feeling. Maybe it’s gratitude for the company, or maybe it’s something more. You don’t know yet, but the warmth that settles in your chest feels nice.