Chapter Text
Okuyasu needed to organize his briefcase. Old tests, quizzes, and worksheets he probably only did half of were crumpled and forming into sediment underneath his more current work laid neatly on top. What bugged him about all that nonsense was how easily small things slipped between the cracks – permission slips, notes, snacks, even important stuff like his wallet and keys sank right to the bottom like a stone, and, then, he had to rifle all the way through a near semester’s worth of bullshit to find what he was looking for.
So here he was, crouching outside Owson Hardware by himself, rummaging around in his bag for the little envelope he was looking for. He’d better find it soon or he’d lose his nerve again… Aha! Pulling out the small card, he fussed with one of the corners that had become dog-eared underneath all his stuff. Shit, he thought. Is it too sloppy? I should call this off. Without considering the effectiveness of the action, he licked between his thumb and forefinger and tried to smooth out the creased corner.
“Oi, Okuyasu.”
Throwing his head up, Okuyasu looked like a deer in headlights as he shoved the envelope back into his briefcase, shoving handfuls upon handfuls of crinkling papers inside behind it. A shout threatened to leak out before his eyes landed on his best friend; immediately, he snapped his briefcase shut and stood up.
“Nothin’!”
Josuke looked at him with a high arch in his brow and a pout in his lips. “Nothin, my ass, I didn’t even ask what you were doing!” Slyly, he lowered his eyes to his friend’s briefcase; only one latch was closed, and a couple paper edges were sticking out of it. “Did’ja steal something?”
“I told you, I quit all that shit,” Okuyasu shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked a rock defensively. It was much easier to talk to Josuke, he was worried someone else might have found him sitting around there.
“Then what’re ya hiding?”
“I already said nothin’!”
“And I already said that’s bullshit!” Josuke reached for the case with a mischievous grin, unable to catch it as Okuyasu yanked it out of the way just in time. “C’mon, man, let me see!”
“It’s just school shit, dude, you don’t want it,” Okuyasu hugged it to his chest and turned away. “Plus all my papers are gonna get everywhere, ‘n’ I don’t wanna go runnin’ around chasin’ ‘em.”
Josuke grunted and shifted his eyes around to see if he could deduce it himself. Morioh was heavy with late afternoon foot traffic, the usual amount of office workers and high school kids like themselves kicking around on their commute home from afterschool activities. If he’d actually been looking, he’d have seen all kinds of average office workers waiting for the bus or darting in and out of the convenience store across from the alley. He wasn’t, though, and within thirty seconds he’d given up his scan and resolved either to guess it or to annoy his friend into telling him.
“Your house flood again?”
“No, I patched that hole!”
“Need something at Owson?”
“I don’t, man, leave it alone…”
“Ya gotta date?”
At this, Okuyasu blushed a bright pink and shook his head violently. “I said, leave it alone, man!”
“Oh, man, dude, you totally do!” Josuke’s face lit up with a sadistic grin, ready to tear into him with all he had. “Dude, you shoulda told me! Who is it? What’re ya doing?”
“I don’t have a date man, I’m not fucking around!” Okuyasu gave Josuke a punch on the arm that was a little bit too forceful to be construed as playful. With that, Josuke’s smile faded away quickly and he looked away, embarrassed. “Cut the shit, I told you, I’m not in the mood to be fuckin’ interviewed!”
“Sheesh, man, I didn’t realize… I mean, listen if you’re in a bad mood…” It was times like this in which Josuke wished silently to himself that he could figure out how to actually apologize. He hated seeing his friend so upset, but something in him made him always dance too hard around the actual words, and he had to listen to himself be an asshole. “Whatever dude, I don’t even care, like, it doesn’t matter to me.”
“Then can we go? Maybe get food on the way back?” Okuyasu stuffed his briefcase under his arm and squeezed it tight to his body, starting to walk away without his friend. Another time, another place, maybe with less people around, right? Josuke trotted to catch up with him and slapped him on the back.
“Can’t, I got my mom making chow tonight at the house. But you can come over if ya’ ain’t got anything.” Okuyasu kept walking, a strong pout on his lips. He wanted to go hang with Josuke, but if he didn’t iron out an actual plan, this whole thing would turn to dust and he wouldn’t be able to figure a damn thing out. Plus, he might actually trick him into telling him, and that would be a disaster…
“Nah, dude, I got homework,” he looked up at his friend with a grateful smile, an indicator that he’d even forgotten that he was mad. “Maybe tomorrow?”
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If his briefcase was less than organized, his desk was even worse. Still, Okuyasu had been sitting at it for a couple hours now, piles of junk surrounding him on either side. In front of him was the sealed note he’d been trying to smooth out the corner of and another, unwritten note on a piece of loose leaf from his binder. Behind him, there was countless other failed attempts at writing the exact same thing. Letting his head slide out of his hand, his head hit the desk with a thump. This was going to be completely impossible.
Standing up, he stretched his legs and walked to his kitchen, stopping to lean his face against the wall his phone hung on to look out the window. It was already dark, the street lights flickering outside the way they usually did, casting their fluorescence over the pavement as the good people of Morioh sat down with their loved ones for supper. Even just two houses over, there existed a promise of warm food for the evening and a mindless night of rabblerousing with his best friend… But he couldn’t put this off any longer, it had been eating him from the inside for years at this point.
Yeah, she was pretty. Way prettier than most, but it was so much more than that. At least, now it was; Okuyasu had to admit that her looks were what attracted him to her in the first place. Now, though, he couldn’t stop thinking of her beautifully lilting voice, her breathy laugh, and smooth looking skin. Her pretty little curls bounced with her as effortlessly as she moved, almost as if gravity had no effect on her. He’d never felt this innocent around another person; all he wanted to do was reach out and touch her hand just so he could verify that it was as soft as it looked.
It was like any awful, gross, over-the-top romantic crap that some loser protagonist in a movie would say. As a matter of fact, it was everything that guy would have said. And it all made sense.
Maybe that would help, he thought to himself, raising his eyebrows in thought. Maybe she likes romantic chick flicks like that. What if I referenced one of those? Had she seen Notting Hill? Probably not, that was a little bit after her time, right? But, like, she had to like Hugh Grant, right? Didn’t everyone?
Smacking the wall with his hand, he did what he came out here to do: pick up the phone. Dialing as fast as he could, he tapped his foot impatiently against the hardwood and crossed his arms to his chest. Asking for help was totally not something he wanted to do, but if he had to, he should definitely call… the one friend he had who apparently knew what girls liked.
“Dr. Kujo.”
“Oi, Jotaro-san!” Okuyasu grinned as he pressed the receiver to his ear. “Long time no talk, eh, buddy?”
Silence on the other end. Okuyasu immediately felt sweatier.
“I just need, like, yer opinion on somethin’, if that’s all cool and shit.”
“Is it an emergency?”
“Well, er,” Okuyasu leaned in really close to the windowsill and started chipping at a piece of paint with his fingernail. “I guess, in a sense, totally, I figure.”
“You figure.”
Boy, he was even harder to talk to over the phone. The paint chip peeked and eased off of the wood underneath it with each tiny scrape. “Ehm, yeah. You know, girls.”
“I’m familiar with them.”
The paint chip lifted ever so slightly. Okuyasu wanted to get this thing off in one large piece if he could… He narrowed his eyes. “Er, you’re like, good with them?”
“I’m divorced.”
A slight bend threatened to break the paint chip and Okuyasu immediately switched his peeling tactic and moved around to the side of it to loosen it further with his fingernail there. “No, like, girls, not, like, women…”
“Would you ask the question? I’m busy.”
“Right, of course, yeah, er…” Shoving his hand back into his pocket, he thought he might just leave it be for a bit and actually focus on the phone call. “How would you, like, get the courage, say, to, you know…” He cleared his throat. “Ask one out?”
The silence from the other end of the receiver was almost impossible to fathom. The tension was so thickly laid that Okuyasu couldn’t resist coming back for the paint chip, immediately twisting off a tiny fragment on the upper part. Rats.
“I’m hanging up.”
“No, but, wait, I need-…!” Click. Okay, that… failed miserably. Maybe he should have said someone’s life was in danger, or that the girl he was into was a dangerous stand user, or some other dumb lie that would have actually gotten Jotaro’s full attention. That ship, though, had sailed.
Time for the backup plan. Okuyasu clicked his forefinger against the receiver and lifted it up again to hear the dial tone before pulling out the next phone number that he had. If he couldn’t have an expert, he could, at the very least, get someone who had more experience than most. The ringing tones kept echoing until, after about three rings, someone finally picked up.
“Hirose residence, who’s calling?”