Chapter Text
5:01am.
Strange.
Jotaro looks up from his watch to see no other car in the parking lot. No car driving down the road. But most importantly, no Rohan.
Being creatures of habit, the pair have met at the beach every Saturday morning at 5:00am sharp for the past few months. At first, the pair shared these early morning making meaningless, awkward chatter. They talked about the water. They talked about the sand. They talked about their shoes. Anything that caught their eye, one of them would bring it up in attempt at being social. One morning, Jotaro simply stated:
“I have more fun when we don’t waste each other’s time with useless chatter.”
From that point on, the two fell into a comfortable silence around each other. They both arrive at the shore, Rohan draws while Jotaro takes notes and observes the waves. A perfect Saturday morning.
The silence the older man was now experiencing was ominous. It scared him.
Jotaro checks his phone for the tenth time within the last 2 minutes before deciding to go check on his missing companion. He never calls anyone but once he made it into his driver’s seat, he clicked on the artist’s name and pressed the phone to his ear.
One ring.
Two rings.
Three rings.
Four.
Five.
No answer.
Fear starts to sink in. Jotaro frantically starts his engine and speeds off in the direction of the other man’s residence. His knuckles were white as he clung to the steering wheel in attempt to steel himself. This causes his hands to tremble as he shifts his car into park after he arrives at the house. He instantly spots the artist’s car. Good sign. No lights on in the house. Bad sign. Without thinking, the older man gets out of his car and speed walks to the front door. He releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding before knocking on the door loudly.
Silence.
Not even footsteps from upstairs.
Jotaro’s eyes begin to sting as he knocks again. He could feel his cheeks start to warm in the brisk, morning air. The tips of his ears were burning as well.
“Rohan?”
His voice didn’t even sound like his own. He stood still for a while before moving to peek into windows, his eyes darting around to see any semblance of life. With help, he spots lingering steam from the coffee pot.
So he is alive.
Jotaro feels the tension start to fall from his shoulders but it did not ease his mind.
The man takes a few steps back from the porch to get a better view of the windows upstairs. The bedroom curtains were drawn, empty bed. The curtains were drawn in the studio. No Rohan.
Fear continues to settle into the pit of his stomach. He reaches a hand up to his chest to help remind himself to breathe. An inkling tells him to check the back porch. This inkling points around to the back then vanishes. Carefully, Jotaro begins to walk toward the backyard despite how much he felt he was violating his friend’s privacy. The smell of coffee hits his nose. He turns the corner and sees something that should relieve him but the opposite occurs.
Rohan is curled up on one of the patio chairs, a mug of coffee in his hands, his eyes dull from an evident lack of sleep, his hair tossed over his head carelessly. A loose t-shirt hangs from his small frame, his legs mostly bare from his choice in sleep shorts. He looks lost.
Jotaro freezes to take all of this in before moving closer.
“You cold?” This is the only thought crossing his frantic mind. Rohan shakes his head.
“Why are you here?”
“You didn’t show up.”
“Yeah.”
Jotaro makes it up to the back porch, his jacket already off to drape over Rohan’s shoulders. A reluctant sigh of relief passes his lips.
“Are… you okay?”
“Thought you didn’t like to talk about useless things.”
Anger flashes across the older man’s features.
“How is this useless?” This makes Rohan chuckle. A mean, biting chuckle.
“Oh, Mr. Kujo… you haven’t figured it out by now. How useless I am.” The sickly sweet tone Rohan uses only makes Jotaro more upset. He lowers himself to kneel in front of the artist, his expression reflecting a confusing mixture of anger and concern.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about but you better stop right now.”
“Or what?” Jotaro flinches.
“…”
“Answer me. Or what?” This time Rohan leans forward, allowing Jotaro to see how bloodshot and sad his eyes were.
“I don’t know.” Jotaro leans back on his heels and lowers his gaze, the wind tussling the loose curl that hung from his hat. “I’d… try to convince you otherwise, whatever you’re feeling or saying.”
This response stuns Rohan, who’s left with a bewildered expression.
“Useless.”
“Stop saying that!” Jotaro snaps without thinking, his gaze burning with rage as he makes eye contact with Rohan. His fists ball up against his trousers, his short nails digging into his palms to keep himself from doing anything else. Rohan freezes again. Not because of the tone that was just used with him, because of the way tears fell upon the older man’s cheeks. He didn’t even bother to hide it.
“Jotaro…” Uncertainty washes over Rohan in a pummeling wave, sending him down to his knees to be face-to-face with the man who went out of his way to make sure he was alright.
“I’m sorry-“
“No, I am. I… should’ve called.”
“… That would have been nice.”
Rohan swallows the insult bubbling in the back of his throat.
“I’m just glad to know that you’re alive. But you haven’t answered my question.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes. Yes, it does. Are you okay?” Jotaro repeats his inquiry in a voice that is unfamiliar to him. It was gentle, quieter than usual. He only ever uses this voice with one other person.
“Yeah…”
“Rohan.”
“What?”
“Stop lying to me. You can tell me.” There was so much left unsaid that Jotaro couldn’t bring himself to say.
I never show this side to anyone.
I’m here for you if you need me.
I want you to be okay.
I’m not okay if you’re not okay.
I care about you.
All of this was lost but it didn’t need to be said. The tear filled eyes that Rohan had to confront spoke volumes.
“I didn’t think you cared about me that much. So I didn’t show up to see what would happen.”
“I told you to stop lying.”
“The first part is true.” After that, Jotaro didn’t need any further explanation. He simply nods then wraps his arms around himself.
“… do.”
“What?”
“I do.”
The words were quiet enough to miss in the wind. But Rohan picks them up. And cherishes them.
“It doesn’t feel like anyone does sometimes.”
“I’ll remind you. If you give me a chance to.”
“I can try.”
“That’s all I ask.”
The two men stare at each other silently long enough for the sun to come up. The warm rays hit the back of Jotaro first, giving him a halo’s glow. The light shifts to shine down on Rohan’s face, green eyes slowly returning to life as dark circles seemingly fade away. The artist breaks the silence first.
“I wish I could draw this.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“I think it’s impossible to capture perfection.”
Jotaro flinches then tilts his head to the side.
“I’m trying to say you’re beautiful. Too perfect to draw.”
Jotaro remains silent.
“You know, there’s always mistakes in a drawing but there are none in you. That sort of deal.” Rohan begins to laugh nervously, his usual demeanor slowly returning.
“I understand what you are saying.” Jotaro tips his hat in attempt to hide the blush that spread across his cheeks. Rohan only smiles wider.
“Oh my god, I got you flustered.”
“Tsk.”
The two share their morning on the patio of Rohan’s home with coffee and comfortable silence. While neither are adhering to their usual routines, they’re content in each other’s company. That is all Jotaro could have asked for. Maybe this is all he wanted in the first place.