Chapter Text
Shizuka was growing up to be a very beautiful—and very ornery—little girl. Her ornery nature shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise, though, considering who her adoptive father was.
“Holy shit!” shouted Shizuka, upon seeing a cool-looking bird outside.
Josuke bit back a laugh. “Shizu, you really shouldn’t say things like that.”
Josuke stood at the window that faced his front yard, the three-year-old settled comfortably on his hip. Mr. Joestar and Jotaro were in the kitchen with his mother, having tea and catching up. Over the last few years, his mother had slowly adjusted to having her former lover back in the picture. It had been painful for her, at first. There had been nights when she’d cried herself to sleep, long after she’d assumed Josuke had fallen asleep. But he’d been awake. And he’d heard it all.
But then, slowly, it had gotten better. His mother was a strong woman, and she loved her son. She’d eventually decided to do what was best for him by allowing his father to have a more permanent place in their lives.
Now he and Jotaro came to visit every couple of months. The travel was hard on Mr. Joestar in his old age, but for his son, it was worth it. And this time, he had brought Shizuka along. Josuke knew that, technically, Shizuka was like his little sister. But with a sixteen year age gap between them, it felt a bit… strange.
No stranger than calling Jotaro his nephew, he supposed.
“What’s dat?” Shizuka asked, pointing at a man on a bicycle who stopped outside their house. He dropped off fresh bottles of milk and collected the empty bottles from their doorstep.
“That’s the milkman,” said Josuke. “Should we go get the milk he brought for us?”
The little girl nodded, her raven hair shining in the early morning sunlight.
Josuke smiled and set her down, letting her take the lead as they went to the front door and retrieved the milk that had been delivered. Together, they brought it to the kitchen.
“Oh! Thank you, Shizu!” Tomoko exclaimed, smiling warmly at the girl as she accepted the milk and put it in the refrigerator.
Josuke slipped his hands into his pockets as Shizuka went to play with the magnets on their refrigerator door. “So? What’s up?”
“We were just making plans to go to S City and run some errands,” Jotaro muttered.
“Who’s we?”
“The three of us,” said Tomoko.
He pouted. “What about me?”
“You’re in charge of babysitting Shizuka.”
He looked at his mother in disbelief. ”Me?”
He’d never been a babysitter before. He was practically a child himself, even at nearly twenty years old. Could he really be trusted to look after a child? Especially one with the ability to turn invisible?
“Don’t be so dramatic,” his mother scolded. “It’s just one day.”
The whole day?
He opened his mouth to protest again, but then his mother gave him a look, and he thought better of it. One day. He could survive one day.
Hopefully.
“Fine,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “But I hope I’m at least getting paid for this.”
Jotaro sighed and got up from the table. Josuke straightened—even after all this time, he still found his nephew a bit intimidating. The older man held out a considerable amount of money. “Is this enough?”
Josuke took it and counted it quickly. His eyes went wide. 20,000 yen? Seriously? He could practically smell the Italian leather on the new shoes he was going to buy.
“Yeah,” he said, trying not to look too excited. “This is great. Thanks.”
Jotaro nodded, and the three of them finished their tea and prepared to leave for S City. Josuke returned to the living room with Shizuka, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her as they searched for her favorite cartoon.
“Bye, Josuke! Call if you need anything!” his mother said, coming to kiss him on the cheek on her way to the front door. He made a face, but didn’t wipe his cheek with his sleeve like he sometimes did.
“Have fun,” he replied, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.
Then they were gone. They climbed into Jotaro’s car and drove away, officially leaving Josuke in charge of a three-year-old child for the rest of the day. Luckily, he’d found the cartoon he was looking for. Colorful characters danced and sang, and Shizuka watched them with wide eyes.
Josuke sighed as he settled into an armchair and flipped through a fashion magazine that he’d left lying on the coffee table. Getting paid to read magazines? Maybe this wasn’t such a bad gig.
“I’m hungry.”
He lowered the magazine to peer down at Shizuka. “Didn’t you just have breakfast?”
She hesitated. Then she said, “No…”
“Don’t lie, Shizu, it’s not nice.”
“I’m hungry again.”
He sighed. “Fine, let’s get a snack.”
He brought her to the kitchen and offered her countless snack options, but she turned every one of them down. All she wanted was ice cream, but they didn’t have any in their freezer. Besides, wasn’t giving a bunch of sugar to a child supposed to be, like, a really bad idea?
“We don’t have ice cream. Sorry.”
“How ‘bout cookies?” she pressed.
“Nope.”
She crossed her little arms over her chest, and that’s when Josuke knew this was going to be one of the longest days of his life.
━━━━━━
When Shizuka still refused to accept anything that wasn’t ice cream, Josuke took her to the park. It was a beautiful summer day—he knew for a fact that there would be an ice cream truck there for most of the day.
He held her hand as they walked, unable to hold back a smile as the little girl hopped and skipped over the little cracks in the sidewalk.
“What’s your favorite kind of ice cream, Shizu?”
“Chocolate!” she chirped, swinging their hands between them.
“Mine too,” said Josuke. “How about we both get a chocolate ice cream cone when we get there?”
“Yeah!”
Her enthusiasm was contagious—Josuke grinned and scooped the girl up into his arms. She squealed, and he laughed as he set her on his shoulders.
She rode on his shoulders the rest of the way to the park, pointing out birds and flowers and other things along the way. They were still a block away from the park when Josuke heard a familiar tune weaving through the humid summer air.
He gasped dramatically, looking up at Shizuka. “Do you hear that?”
She listened closely. Then she heard it, and her eyes lit up. “Ice cream!” she shouted, grabbing on to the baby hairs at the nape of his neck like they were reins on a horse.
“Oi, take it easy!” Josuke yelped, reaching back to pull her hands safely away from his hair. “We’ll be there soon. Be patient.”
She was bouncing up and down on his shoulders by the time they finally made it to the park. He set her down and let her walk—no, run—the rest of the way to the ice cream truck. He jogged to keep up with her, laughing as she quickly got the attention of the woman who owned the truck.
A few minutes later, they were sitting on a park bench enjoying their chocolate ice cream cones. He warned the girl to slow down multiple times, but she ended up getting brain freeze anyway. And so did he.
When they were finished, they found a water fountain to wash the stickiness from their fingers. Shizuka giggled as the gurgling water tickled her skin.
The moment he set her down, she took off running in the direction of the playground. “Let’s go play, Josuke!”
He sighed, but didn’t argue. She was probably all hyped up on sugar right now, anyway. If he wanted her to take a nap later, he’d need to tire her out. Three-year-olds still took naps, didn’t they?
They played for nearly an hour, but Shizuka still had as much energy as when they’d first started. Josuke, on the other hand, was exhausted. Keeping up with a child was harder than he thought it’d be. And the heat wasn’t helping. He ran a tentative hand over his pompadour, whining when he felt how disheveled it had become.
Stupid humidity.
“Catch me, Josuke, catch me!”
“I’ve already caught you like twenty times,” he muttered as he chased after the girl again. She giggled as she raced around the playground, looking back from time to time to make sure Josuke was still there.
And that’s how she failed to notice the toy that some child had left half-buried in the pebbles next to the slide. She tripped over it and went crashing to the ground, and for a long moment it was silent. Josuke held his breath.
And then Shizuka started crying.
Or maybe screaming was the better word. Several other children and their parents looked over as her cries drowned everything out. Josuke began to panic. What if, in her stress, she used her stand? Everyone was staring directly at them. How would he explain a little girl vanishing before their eyes?
He hurried to her side and fell to his knees. The pebbles poked uncomfortably through his clothes. “Shhh, you’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re okay, Shizu, look at me.”
She didn’t even open her eyes. She just kept crying, and Josuke’s heart leapt into his throat as he saw her fingers begin to disappear. That’s when he realized—her palms were scraped and bleeding.
He took her hands, covering them with his own before anyone could notice they had turned translucent. Then he called Crazy Diamond and used it to heal her wounds.
“There,” he said, keeping his voice as calm as possible. “There, you’re all better now. No need to cry.”
Please, please, stop crying…
Slowly, Shizuka seemed to realize that the pain was gone. Her screams gave way to quiet whimpers, and Josuke breathed a sigh of relief. Just in time, too—she was invisible up to her elbows. Only Josuke’s own body, crouched over hers, kept the strangers around them from noticing. As she calmed down, her arms and hands reappeared.
“You’re okay now, right?” he asked her gently.
She nodded.
“Are you ready to go home?”
She nodded again.
Thank God. If he hadn’t been exhausted before, he certainly was now. He helped Shizuka to her feet and dusted off the little yellow dress she was wearing, and then he reached for her hand. He tried not to blush at the eyes he could still feel trained on them. The walk to the edge of the playground felt unbearably long.
As soon as they left the park, Josuke felt the tension begin to leave his body. Everything was under control now. They were going home. When they got back, he would make Shizuka some lunch, and then she’d take a nap, and everything would be—
“Josuke?”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
He felt her tugging on his hand and braced himself for whatever was about to come.
“Yeah?”
“I gotta go potty.”
Of course. He was beginning to think Jotaro hadn’t paid him enough after all. Josuke held back a groan as he looked around. They were in a residential neighborhood, still several blocks from home and several blocks from the nearest café or convenience store.
And only one block from a very familiar mansion. Josuke cursed under his breath.
What did he have to lose at this point?
Rohan opened the door before he even had a chance to knock. “Higashikata, how many times do I have to tell you—“ he stopped himself, his slender brows furrowing as he eyed the three-year-old child seated on his hip.
“Who is this?”
“Rohan-sensei, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about Shizuka,” said Josuke, offering the mangaka a tentative smile as the girl waved at him.
Rohan stared blankly.
Josuke tried again. “The girl whose stand can turn her invisible?”
“Ah. Right. What is she doing with you?” His green eyes scanned the porch behind them, as if expecting to see Mr. Joestar nearby.
“I’m babysitting her today. Listen, Rohan, this is urgent—“
“Babysitting?” The mangaka laughed. “Why would anyone trust you to look after a child?”
His eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to tell Rohan what a great job he’d been doing. But then Shizuka squirmed uncomfortably and he forgot all about defending his pride.
“Can Shizuka please use your bathroom? We didn’t have any other choice, and she can’t hold it much longer.”
Rohan curled his lip in disgust, but after a moment of deliberation, he invited them inside. Apparently, he’d decided that he’d rather let Josuke in his house than force a child to wet herself.
How gracious of him.
“Thank you, Rohan-sensei,” he breathed as he carried her inside and hurried up the stairs to the second-floor bathroom.
He’d only been inside Rohan’s house a handful of times since that first summer, but he knew the layout like the back of his hand. He still remembered last year’s Christmas party, when he’d gotten curious on his way back from the bathroom and explored Rohan’s studio and various guest rooms. He’d gotten caught, of course, and Rohan had given him an earful. Then he’d kicked him out and told him never to return.
But he had returned. Several times. That was probably what Rohan had been about to say on the porch—How many times do I have to tell you to stay away from my house?
Josuke couldn’t resist coming back. Of course, that had nothing to do with the house and everything to do with the man who lived in it.
Their relationship had improved a little in the three years since the dice game and the fire, but Rohan still seemed perpetually pissed off whenever Josuke was around. Josuke tried to fix things between them time and time again, but that only seemed to upset Rohan more. He was impossible to figure out.
And yet somehow, Josuke had fallen for him.
He pushed those thoughts away as he set Shizuka down and guided her to the bathroom. “Do you, uh…. need any help?”
“Nope!” she said, marching into the bathroom and closing the door behind her.
Josuke sighed and leaned against the wall. Then he waited.
“Have you ever thought of having children?”
He flinched, his heart skipping a beat as he turned to see Rohan watching him from the top of the stairs.
“You didn’t have to come with us,” he said.
“Of course I did. I had to make sure you didn’t go somewhere you weren’t supposed to.” Again, his eyes seemed to say. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
Have you ever thought of having children? The question fully sank in, and Josuke turned red. “I… I don’t know, maybe?”
Rohan rolled his eyes. “You’ve really never given it any thought?”
“Of course not,” he stammered. “I’m nineteen years old!”
“I’d thought about it by the time I was nineteen,” said Rohan.
That took Josuke by surprise. He looked at the older man warily. “And?”
“And I decided I was never having children.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips at Rohan’s characteristic stubbornness. “Never?”
“Never.” He came to lean against the wall across from Josuke. He crossed one ankle gracefully over the other as he said, “My manga will always come first.”
Josuke snorted. “Wait. Let me get this straight. You would love your manga more than your own kids?”
“No, you idiot, that’s my point. I wouldn’t have kids in the first place.”
“But what if you… accidentally had them?”
Rohan just stared at him, one brow raised.
Finally, Josuke rolled his eyes. “Whatever. You probably just hate children.”
“Well, yes, that’s another reason.”
Josuke had meant it as a joke, but now his eyes widened. “Seriously? You hate children?”
“You sound surprised.”
“I’m mostly surprised that you’re admitting it. It makes you sound like a terrible person.”
Rohan straightened, pushing himself off the wall. “Watch your mouth, Higashikata. I’ll happily kick you out of my house again.”
“Then you’d be stuck with Shizuka. And she’d be miserable.”
His mouth fell open, but no words came out. He looked offended.
“Face it, Rohan, you’re not exactly fun to be around. And if you hate children, they probably hate you too.”
His green eyes hardened. He crossed the hallway and jabbed a finger into Josuke’s broad chest. “Children do not hate me,” he said. “And I’ll prove it to you.”
“Oh yeah? How do you plan to do that?”
“Are you getting paid to babysit Shizuka?” Rohan asked, an unsettlingly familiar look in his eyes.
“Yes, why?”
“I’ll help you babysit her,” said Rohan. “Then, at the end of the day, we’ll ask her which of us was her favorite babysitter. If you win, you keep the money. If I win, you have to give it to me.”
Josuke glared down at him. “You don’t need the money, Rohan.”
“You’re right, I don’t. I just want to take it from you.”
It was the dice game all over again. Josuke pursed his lips a bit as he thought about the offer. He should say no—he’d learned his lesson the last time he’d gambled with the slightly unstable mangaka. Then again, it would be nice to have a little help with the babysitting.
And it would also be nice to spend the day watching Rohan try to win the affections of a three-year-old.
“What are you smirking about?”
Josuke cleared his throat. “Nothing,” he said. “I’ll accept your challenge.”
Right on cue, there was a flushing sound inside the bathroom and Shizuka opened the door. Rohan looked over his shoulder at her. “Did you wash your hands?” he asked sharply.
Shizuka made a guilty face and disappeared into the bathroom again.
“Great first impression, sensei.”
“Shut up, Josuke.”
━━━━━━
“What do you mean you don’t have mac and cheese? Everyone has mac and cheese.”
Josuke had searched every single cabinet in Rohan’s kitchen, and he still hadn’t found anything Shizuka would like. There wasn’t much to choose from, anyway. Most of his cabinets were totally bare. No wonder Rohan was so slender—did the man even eat?
“Clearly, you don’t know the definition of everyone.”
Josuke let the final cabinet door fall shut with a bang. “Shizuka needs lunch, Rohan. What do you, her babysitter, think we should feed her?”
“I have rice,” he offered. “And instant noodles.”
Josuke just looked at him for a moment, then rubbed a hand over his face.
“I’ll figure something out,” said Josuke, grabbing the bag of white rice from the center cabinet. “Keep her occupied while I cook.”
Rohan hesitated for a moment, then nodded and turned to leave. “If you start another fire, I’ll kill you.”
“That wasn’t my fault!” Josuke called out, but Rohan had already left.
He brought some water to a boil and added the rice. Then he went looking for other things he could add. Eggs. Carrots. Canned peas. Hopefully Shizuka wouldn’t be as picky as she had been about her snack this morning.
The steam from the rice disheveled his hair further, and eventually Josuke gave up on it completely. He ran his fingers through it until the hairspray released its hold and his hair fell in loose waves around his face. Then he found an elastic band in Rohan’s junk drawer and used it to pull the longer strands into a top knot. He squinted at his reflection in the window above the sink. Good enough.
When lunch was ready, he set the table and put the fried rice on three separate plates. Then he sliced up a couple of slightly bruised apples and distributed the slices somewhat evenly between the three of them.
“Lunch is ready!” he called out. When no response came, he left the dining room and wandered into the main entryway. “Shizuka? Rohan?”
Still no response. He felt a tendril of worry climb its way up his spine as he searched the first floor and still didn’t find them. Finally, he jogged up the stairs and poked his head into the studio.
Shizuka and Rohan sat cross-legged on the floor, drawing together.
Josuke covered his mouth with his hand, afraid that he would somehow breathe too loudly and disturb the scene in front of him.
Shizuka pointed at the dozens of colored pencils that Rohan kept in a box at his side.
“Use your words,” he said quietly. “Which color do you want?”
“Blue,” said Shizuka.
“Like this?” Rohan asked, offering her a pretty cerulean pencil. She shook her head no, and he tried again. “This?” This time he offered a sky blue pencil.
She shook her head again. “Blue,” she said insistently, pointing at Rohan’s hair.
He rolled his eyes, but Josuke saw the soft smile that tugged at his lips. “My hair is green,” he said, handing her a dark green pencil. “See? Green.”
“Green,” Shizuka echoed, taking the pencil and using it to color her drawing—a drawing of Rohan, most likely.
Josuke felt his heart begin to ache. Maybe he’d misjudged Rohan after all. And maybe Rohan had misjudged himself, too. How could someone who hated children get along with one so well?
Shizuka finished her drawing and proudly held it up for Rohan to see. The mangaka raised a brow, and Josuke braced himself for the insensitive comment that was sure to come.
“Not bad,” he said at last.
It wasn’t the kind of enthusiasm a child her age was used to, but she still seemed pleased. “I’m gonna show Josuke,” she said.
“Josuke is busy.”
“Actually,” Josuke chuckled, fully stepping out from behind the door, “I came to find the two of you. Lunch is ready.”
Rohan quickly lowered his head and gathered his drawing supplies, but Josuke thought he saw a bit of color dusting his cheeks. Meanwhile, Shizuka ran up to Josuke and thrust her drawing into his hands.
He looked down at the drawing and blinked in surprise. Rohan was right. It really wasn’t bad. In fact, it was a masterpiece for someone her age.
“I taught her a few things,” said Rohan, by way of explanation. He still didn’t look up.
“Yeah, I can tell,” Josuke murmured, looking at the drawing again. It was, in fact, a drawing of Rohan. His earrings were too big and his headband was crooked, but he was still recognizable, and that in itself was impressive.
“This is awesome, Shizu,” he told her. “Maybe someday you’ll be a famous mangaka, just like Rohan!”
Rohan finally looked up. His expression was softer than usual. “Maybe she will be.”
Shizuka was grinning from ear to ear. Then she held up her arms—a request to be carried downstairs. Josuke chuckled and tried to figure out where to put her drawing so it wouldn’t get wrinkled.
“Here,” said Rohan, taking the drawing. “I’ll find a place for it.”
“That place better not be the trash,” Josuke warned as he picked up Shizuka and set her on his hip.
“Of course not,” he said. He set the drawing beside his own on his desk and came back to join them. “Well? Are we going to lunch or not?”
Josuke chuckled and led them downstairs.
━━━━━━
Shizuka played in the backyard while Rohan helped Josuke with the dishes.
“I meant to ask you,” Rohan said. “What happened to your hair?”
Josuke smiled bashfully. “It got all messed up, so I just decided to wear it down.”
“It looks good.”
Josuke almost dropped the plate he’d been washing. “Huh?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He was blushing again.
Rohan Kishibe. Blushing. Josuke began to wonder if this was some elaborate dream.
“Well, uh… thanks.”
Rohan didn’t respond. He just kept his eyes on Shizuka, watching her play through the window. She’d been chasing butterflies at first, but now she sat in the grass, plucking the petals off a dandelion. She yawned.
“She’ll need a nap soon, I think,” said Josuke. “Which means we get a break.”
“Good,” said Rohan. “I have a few panels I need to work on.”
Josuke frowned. “And what am I supposed to do?”
“Not my problem.”
“Come on, sensei,” he whined. “Can’t we find a way to pass the time together?”
“I only agreed to babysit one child today. I’m not responsible for keeping you entertained while she takes a nap.”
“We could watch a movie, or play a game…”
“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?”
Josuke chuckled as he put the clean dishes away.
“Besides,” Rohan added, “I refuse to play games with you ever again.”
“That was three years ago,” Josuke said. “Are you honestly still mad?”
His face told Josuke all he needed to know.
“Fine,” he said. “No games. But what would be so bad about watching a movie together?”
Rohan sighed heavily and took a moment to think about it. Finally, he said, “Alright. But I get to pick the movie.”
“Great!”
They brought Shizuka back inside and carried her upstairs to one of Rohan’s guest rooms. She yawned again as Josuke lifted her up and gently set her on the bed. Rohan had already pulled back the covers, and now he wrapped them around her, taking the time to tuck her in properly. Josuke watched silently, unable to calm the feelings that stirred inside him.
Then Rohan seemed to notice something. He reached up and carefully removed the little flower-shaped clip from Shizuka’s hair, placing it on the end table beside the bed.
Josuke looked away, rubbing his chest. His heart had ached over Rohan dozens of times—whenever he let out a genuine laugh, for example, or whenever his eyes lit up while talking about his manga. But this was different. This ache was stronger. Deeper.
But why?
Was it because of this? This new dynamic that now blossomed between them as they worked together to care for a child?
Oh, God. Was he imagining what it would be like to care for his own child? To care for their own child?
Nope, he thought. Nope, nope, nope.
He left the room as quickly as possible and locked himself in the bathroom. If Rohan asked, he could say he suddenly had to take a piss or something. It was better than telling the truth: that he’d gotten caught up in such a soft, sentimental, domestic fantasy.
Honestly, what was happening to him?
He splashed some water on his face and tried to think of something else—anything else. By the time Rohan knocked on the door a few minutes later, he’d composed himself at least a little.
He swung open the door, smiling a little too brightly. “Oh, hey, Rohan.”
Rohan eyed him suspiciously. “Are you feeling alright?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry I didn’t stay to help you get her to sleep, I just—well, when nature calls—”
Rohan held up a hand. “Spare me the details.”
“Right.”
“It’s fine,” he said, as he turned to walk downstairs. Josuke followed warily. “She must have been tired, because she hardly put up a fight at all. I read her a little story and she went right to sleep.”
Josuke raised a brow. “You read a story? What story?”
“My manga, of course.”
He made a choking sound. “Isn’t Pink Dark Boy a horror manga?”
“Calm down,” said Rohan, smirking at Josuke over his shoulder as they made their way to the living room. “It was one of my more lighthearted chapters.”
“Hmm,” was Josuke’s only response. He was too focused on not imagining Rohan reading to a child.
Josuke settled into the sofa as Rohan knelt in front of the television, opening a cabinet to reveal an extensive collection of movies.
“Actually, I was happy to be left alone with Shizuka,” said Rohan, picking up a movie and considering it for a moment. “I want to spend as much time with her as possible.”
Josuke blinked in surprise. “You do?”
“Of course.” Rohan looked up, those emerald eyes full of fiendish delight. “The more time I spend with her, the more likely it is that I’ll win. You have no idea how badly I want to steal that money from you.”
Caught up in his ridiculous fantasies, Josuke had nearly forgotten about the challenge he’d agreed to. The rose-colored glasses cracked and shattered before his eyes.
“You’re a bastard.”
Rohan had the nerve to look wounded, going so far as to pout before his lips inevitably slid back into a smirk. Josuke just glared at him.
“Pick a movie already, you prick.”
“Oh, so I’m a bastard and a prick?”
Josuke chuckled. “I’ve got plenty of other words for you, sensei.”
“And I for you.”
Rohan rose from his spot in front of the television, having already slid his chosen movie into the VCR.
“Well?” Josuke pressed. “What did you pick?”
Rohan didn’t answer as he sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, using the remote to fast forward through the previews. His silence, along with the strange look of anticipation in his eyes, only made Josuke more suspicious.
He pressed play.
The movie started off with a bang—literally. Josuke went rigid as the scene opened on a young couple, passionately making love beneath a print of the Mona Lisa.
“What the hell—”
Rohan was staring at Josuke, as if his reaction was more enthralling than the sight of two naked bodies writhing against one another. Sighs and moans filled the silence between them, and Josuke shifted uncomfortably, his face and ears burning.
Where was he supposed to look? Was this some sort of sick game? He couldn’t look away—Rohan would tease him mercilessly. And he certainly couldn’t look at Rohan, who was still watching him like a hawk. God, this was so embarrassing.
That bastard.
His only choice was to keep watching. So he did.
Josuke willed himself to remain unaffected by the passionate scene before him. Willed his body not to respond to the erotic sights and sounds, or to the strangely exhilarating feeling of having Rohan’s attention focused solely on him. But—
“Does this scene ever end?” he muttered.
“Not for a while. This is the director’s cut.”
Finally, he gave in and turned to glare at the mangaka seated beside him. He was closer than before. When had he moved? And how hadn’t Josuke noticed?
“This is porn.”
“It is not,” Rohan snapped. “It’s called 37° 2 le matin, an award-winning French film—“
“I don’t care what it’s called,” he said, reaching across the couch—and across Rohan—to grab the remote so he could turn the damned thing off.
“Wait,“ Rohan protested, reaching for the remote as well. After a brief struggle, Josuke managed to pry the remote away from Rohan. The screen went black, and Josuke breathed a sigh of relief.
Then Rohan pointedly cleared his throat, and Josuke realized the new predicament he’d found himself in.
He slowly looked down at the mangaka beneath him. Both his wrists were pinned above his head, held in place by one of Josuke’s hands. His shirt had come slightly untucked, exposing the dip between his hip and lower abdomen.
“If you don’t get off of me in the next three seconds, I’ll—“
Rohan never finished that sentence. Upstairs, a door opened.
Shizuka.
Josuke quickly got to his feet, releasing Rohan in the process. Both men took a moment to compose themselves—Josuke running a hand through his already tousled hair while Rohan tucked in his shirt—and then they headed for the stairs.
“Shizu?” Josuke called out. There was a small shuffling noise, but no answer. He ran up the stairs with Rohan on his heels.
The door to the guest room was open, but Shizuka was nowhere to be seen.
“Check the bathroom,” said Rohan. “I’ll check the studio.”
Josuke nodded, his heart already beginning to race. If something happened to her—
Another door opened, then closed. Josuke looked at Rohan, who turned white as a sheet.
“Rohan,” Josuke said slowly. He knew his own house better than anyone. “Which door was that?”
“The front door.”