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The storm started the same way Noriaki did everything in his life, the way he’d fallen in love with Jotaro, the way he’d lost him, the way his life always went to shit: slowly, drop by drop, and then a torrential downpour of everything all at once.
“Up? Up please?” His daughter begged, her voice strained and her eyes wide with fear as another clap of thunder shook every shop on the street. Noriaki gathered her up in his arms and ran for the nearest awning, the wet patches her soaked sneakers were digging into his coat disappearing as the rain came down harder.
It was slightly quieter under the awning, enough that Noriaki could rock her gently and try to coax her to sleep. It’d be easier to carry her deadweight back to the parking garage three blocks away than to deal with her frightened tears. Not that it was a burden to, no, but he hated seeing his baby afraid, and the guilt that clawed his heart whenever he saw her weep was too much. He just wanted her to sleep through it.
He turned them so he was facing the street, watching the rain come down, and her eyes could enjoy the warm glow and sparkling lights from the jewelry store behind them. Her trembling ceased and if she wasn’t asleep, she was at least calmed by the displays. Noriaki rubbed her back and hummed, just watching the rain and trying not to think too much.
He nearly missed the sound of a small bell, the door to his left ringing as it opened and someone stepped out under the awning with him. There was an umbrella being opened, but then it slowly, softly closed. Odd. Perhaps the stranger had realized his umbrella had a hole in it, or one of the little rods inside had snapped. Noriaki glanced over despite himself and lightning flashed when he met the stranger’s eyes.
Except, he wasn’t a stranger at all. At least, at one time he hadn’t been. And now that they were looking at each other, recognition as clear as the world around them was muddied with rain, it would have been ridiculous to turn away and pretend he didn’t see him. So Noriaki, despite knowing better, despite knowing nothing good could come of this, stepped closer.
Jotaro did, too.
He looked different, his hair cut shorter and his eyes changed subtly from having seen more of the world, but everything else was just as Noriaki remembered. Jotaro was still astronomically tall and wide and strong, his muscles bulging beneath his clothes, and he hadn’t dyed his hair. It was still the raven-dark inkspill Noriaki had loved tangling his fingers in, once upon a time.
“Is that really you?” Jotaro spoke softly and Noriaki hugged his daughter tight out of reflex. He’d almost forgotten what Jotaro sounded like, that rich, deep tone that made his knees feel like water, and now that he could hear it again it all came flooding back to him. “Nori?”
“Hello,” Noriaki greeted calmly, despite internally being anything but. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” He wanted to throw himself into his arms, kiss him again, make up for lost time, but his daughter shifting in his arms brought him back to reality. It was a secret kept unwillingly, but now the balance of his life depended on it. And more than that, it was unfair to think Jotaro missed him just as much as he had. That Jotaro hadn’t moved on. He’d just come out of a jewelry shop, after all. He was probably buying something for his wife or a girlfriend he hoped to turn into a fiancé.
There was no reason to believe he’d become anything more in Jotaro’s memory than a blip on his radar. That was what had drawn Noriaki to him in the first place. He’d always been unbothered, doing whatever he wanted. He hadn’t cared that everyone else on the playground thought Noriaki was weird and avoided him. He still played with him, and then they became friends for years, and it was just when they became more that everything fell apart. If Jotaro hadn’t tried to find him, then Noriaki had to accept his love had become one-sided. Fate had probably only reunited them to show him it was futile.
“Have you been busy?” Jotaro finally spoke after a long moment of staring at him, of staring at the child in his arms. At least her hood was up, so Noriaki didn’t have to worry about that. Yet. He could focus on Jotaro and the fact that he knew what he really wanted to ask based on the tone and the way his face twitched. Where have you been? Why didn’t you write? Do you want me to go? All the underlying questions stabbed him deep. Noriaki had hoped Jotaro would have changed so much that by the time they’d met again his heart wouldn’t beat so fast, but Jotaro was still the boy he’d fallen in love with, down to that ridiculously huge coat and the hat melding into his hair. Even if he’d changed them out for a set of white instead of black.
“A bit.” Noriaki looked over at the rain, praying for it to let up enough for him to escape. His palms felt sweaty, and if he dropped his girl everything would be over. Jotaro wouldn’t know what to do with his betrayal, and he’d feel incredibly guilty, and everything would be Noriaki’s fault again. He couldn’t do it. But the rain kept coming down in sheets, much to his chagrin. He glanced back at Jotaro and laughed, nervously, adjusting his hold on his daughter. “You know. Kids.”
“I wouldn’t know, actually.” Jotaro’s voice was strangely serious. His eyes were boring into Noriaki’s soul, like if he stared at him long enough he’d be able to read him. He’d always been too perceptive, too smart for his own good, which was why his parents had forced him to leave as soon as they found out instead of letting him stay in school by Jotaro’s side until he began to show. Noriaki couldn’t help but blush slightly. “Is the kid yours? How old?”
“Yes, she’s mine. And she’s getting too old.” Noriaki smiled thinly and laughed hollowly, dodging the second question less than gracefully. The math would be too easy for Jotaro, would give everything away. Instead, he prayed for her to keep sleeping with her head turned toward his neck, her sweet breath warm while the rest of him was cold. He needed to focus on her so he didn’t do something stupid. He needed to remember how to have a normal conversation. “Shopping for something special?”
Jotaro’s eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed. Noriaki felt like he was being taken apart. He could almost see the real questions he wanted to ask popping up next to him (shopping for someone special? why are you here? what did you buy? is my chance gone?) like a video game, and he was sure Jotaro could see it too. Just breathing the same air as him was embarrassing at this point. It was fine for him to be a mess, but decidedly unfine for Jotaro to know.
“I was here for my mom,” Jotaro answered. He lifted the arm on the other side of him to show Noriaki the bag he was holding. He could tell from the shape it was a necklace or a bracelet of some kind, but Jotaro still took it out to show him, almost desperately. Probably scrambling for a conversation topic— no need to read too much into it. “For her birthday. It’s soon, if you remember. I don’t have anyone else to buy jewelry for.”
“Oh, Jotaro, that’s so sweet of you.” Noriaki leaned over to look closer, his hand coming up to cradle the back of his daughter’s head. He felt her breath change against him and it was like lead dropped in his stomach. He silently begged her to stay asleep, but she began to tremble when a particularly loud clap of thunder sounded overhead. Of course the whole world was working against him. He shushed her gently and tried to focus on the simple necklace Jotaro had bought. It was a gold chain with a starfish on it, a glittering green gem in the center. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it was an emerald. But he did, and it couldn’t be. “I’m sure she’ll love it. I’ve missed her quite a bit.”
The words were out before he could stop them. He couldn’t help it, because of how painfully true it was. Holly Kujo had been a second mother to him, and in many ways better than his own parents. She’d supported him unconditionally, always been overjoyed to see him, never passed up an opportunity to let Noriaki cry or vent. If his parents hadn’t caught him, she would have been the first person he told, even before Jotaro. She would have known what to do. She wouldn’t have let his parents do what they did if she’d known.
But that was in the past now. In the present, he could see Jotaro looked wounded. There was no way to save this— either be honest and risk everything, or laugh it off and also risk everything, but in a safer way. A way that ended with their backs to each other, Noriaki off on one path and Jotaro off on the other. But because she was simply the most wonderful child with the best timing ever and was never doing the exact opposite thing Noriaki wanted her to at the most inopportune times, before he could open his own mouth, his girl sleepily picked her head up and looked right at Jotaro.
“Is the storm over, Papa?” She yawned and fussed with her hood, pushing it back before resting her head on Noriaki’s still-wet shoulder. He could practically feel the way Jotaro suddenly went still at the sight of her face, and it was no wonder. She looked so much like her father, after all.
“It’ll just be a little longer,” Noriaki soothed her. “Go back to sleep, Jolyne. I’ve got you.” His heart twisted, but he had to say it. Even if Jotaro got pissed and stormed off, if he said he hated him and never wanted to see him again, at least now he’d know what his daughter’s name was. Noriaki held her closer, unable to turn and look at him.
“Jolyne.” Jotaro’s voice was a whisper, testing the name out. Noriaki was expecting reluctance or even disgust, but not the warmth he detected. The relief. He glanced at him and his heart skipped a beat at the focused, reverent look on Jotaro’s face. He didn’t need to know him as well as he did to know that Jotaro already loved her, would do anything for her, would protect her with his life. It was everything he wanted. It was too much. “Noriaki.”
“I was going to tell you,” he whispered. Jotaro had to move closer to hear him over the downpour, so close Noriaki could have tilted his head and been resting it against Jotaro’s ridiculously large frame. He wanted to step out into the rain, to have an excuse for his face to be wet if he started to cry. He’d been fine for years, he’d been able to crush everything down for Jolyne’s sake, but now all the jagged pieces were moving around and shredding him from the inside out. “I wanted to tell you.”
“But you didn’t.” Jotaro’s register had dropped into something tense, aggressively restrained, but Noriaki wasn’t afraid. Jotaro wouldn’t hurt him. He probably just wanted to do something with his hands, like punch a wall or hug them. Probably closer to punch than hug, but it wouldn’t be them. Jotaro wouldn’t do that. “You just disappeared off the face of the earth. You went where I couldn’t find you. Don’t you realize—“
“Don’t you realize I didn’t want to go?!” Noriaki’s eyes stung and he turned away. He didn’t want to cry and he especially didn’t want to worry Jolyne. She only shifted in his arms and sleepily mumbled, her tiny fists clinging onto his shirt like a comfort. He choked his tears back and made his voice drop back to a whisper, watching the rain come down hard as ever. “My parents caught me with the tester in my hand. There was nothing I could do.”
“You could have come to me,” Jotaro protested. His arm was around Noriaki now, but it felt so natural he barely registered it except for the welcome weight and warmth. Jolyne didn’t even stir. “My mom and I would do anything for you. We could have done this together.”
“I thought I had time.” Noriaki pressed his lips to the top of Jolyne’s head, still angry at his naivety years later. He should have snuck out, packed a bag and run away the moment his parents fell asleep, but instead he’d gone to bed and trusted them when they didn’t freak out right away. He thought he’d be able to tell Jotaro at school, or when they did their homework together afterwards. And then he woke up to being pulled out of school, cut off from Jotaro, and sent to Morioh to live with his aunt and uncle. To live out his shame, isolated and miserable, to raise Jolyne by himself. He’d never had any time at all.
Jotaro opened his mouth, then closed it. He just brought his other arm around to pull them into a hug and Noriaki was careful not to crush Jolyne even as he pressed tighter to him. He was so silent, something Noriaki had once been used to, but now it felt like he was being crushed under the weight of it. With his face buried in Jotaro’s shoulder and his arms around Jolyne, he couldn’t see his expression, couldn’t feel if he was tense or relaxed. So he did what he did best and babbled.
“They didn’t let me have a phone or leave the house for the longest time.” It was hard to keep his voice down, but he had to. Jolyne didn’t know this, and didn’t need to. She only knew her grandparents as loving to her and hadn’t quite picked up yet how frigid they were with her papa. Noriaki was content to keep it that way. “They were so mad at me for wanting to keep her. They kept telling me I was ruining everything, but… I was an idiot, I suppose. I knew even if I went through with it, they’d never willingly let us meet again. I just wanted a piece of you with me. And by the time I could get to a phone, I was so far along, I didn’t want to…”
“Bother me?” Jotaro finished softly. He hesitated, as if he was worried he was overstepping, but then he leaned down and kissed the top of Noriaki’s head. He’d never been one for PDA, which only put into stark light how important this was to Jotaro. Noriaki didn’t know if he could handle it. “You never would have. I… I missed you so much. I kept waiting for an answer, an explanation at least.”
“I didn’t want to ruin everything for you, too.” Noriaki felt wetness drip down his face and convinced himself there was a leak in the awning. He thought it would be good to finally get this all out, to finally tell someone even if that someone wasn’t Jotaro, but instead he felt like he was being cracked open and left for dead. “You were— you wanted to go to America to study marine biology. We only would have slowed you down. I can do my art anywhere, but you… You had so much to live up to, I didn’t…”
“Nori, I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but we live on a fucking island surrounded by water. I could have adapted.” The softness of the nickname was more of a backhand than the anger in Jotaro’s voice. He suddenly pulled away and Noriaki was left floundering. He didn’t know what he expected— he’d made choices that made sure Jotaro had no stake in this. In him. He could walk away and go back to life, pretend their paths had never crossed and punish Noriaki for the self-sacrificial streak he’d always hated about him. He could do the same thing he’d always done, which was whatever he wanted.
Noriaki kept his eyes down, holding Jolyne close. At least he’d always have his baby girl, the piece of Jotaro he’d been able to hold on to through everything. He didn’t want to see the expression Jotaro made at him before he left, didn’t want to know if Jotaro was more disgusted or angered or resigned, if he maybe even hated him, but suddenly Jotaro grabbed his face and made him look. Noriaki’s breath caught in his throat when he didn’t see any of those things in Jotaro’s face.
He only saw determination.
“I never would have abandoned you.” His voice, despite saying the words Noriaki had always wanted to hear, was so sharp Noriaki was sure he’d be the first person to have killed with kindness stamped onto their tombstone. Jotaro’s thumb came up and swiped across his cheek, and Noriaki only just then realized he was crying much harder than he knew or meant to. “And I still won’t. It’s only ever been you. You’re not going to disappear on me like that again.”
“You’re just saying that.” Noriaki’s voice crackled uncertainly. He didn’t want to say that, he didn’t know what he was, but his brain had been hardwired for independence. For pushing people away before they hurt him or he hurt them. Jotaro had always been so perfect in his memory, he didn’t want to ruin that. He didn’t want to only remember Jotaro’s backside when he decided being a father was too hard and went back to his fish. “How do I know you aren’t playing with me? Or just taking us out for a test drive? I can’t— I can’t do that to her. You can hurt me all you want, I deserve it, but if you hurt her I’ll kill you.”
“Nori.” Jotaro’s thumbs were traveling down and Noriaki squeezed Jolyne tighter to him. He opened his mouth slightly, intending to say something, but Jotaro smothered it completely.
He had the hungry, awkward, and fumbling kisses from their first and only time together burned in his memory. Noriaki was sure no one else in the world remembered their first time so fondly, but it had been his lifeline for so long. This kiss, however, was nothing like that. It was soft and sure, a question more than an answer, one Noriaki met hesitantly but gladly. Jotaro’s mature smoothness wouldn’t fix everything between them, but it was a hell of a start.
Jotaro was the one to pull away first, leaving Noriaki panting and aching for more. Jotaro was lucky Noriaki was holding Jolyne or he might have jumped him then and there, but instead he just held her tighter, focusing on her weight in his arms instead of the far too satisfied expression on Jotaro’s face. He wanted to kiss it off him.
“Nori,” Jotaro started again, “I mean it. I don’t want to miss any more time with you. You can think about it all you want, but I’m not leaving your side until you give me an answer.”
Noriaki completely believed him. Even if the rain hadn’t still been trapping them under that awning, he was sure when it let up Jotaro would haunt him all the way back to the parking garage. Maybe even abandon his own ride to drive with Noriaki back to his apartment. Which would have been a little funny, but he didn’t need to think about it. He only needed to think about Jolyne, and Jolyne deserved to know her father. Saying no would only be a punishment for all of them, and Jotaro didn’t deserve it. He’d never done anything wrong besides love him.
So he nodded, because he couldn’t quite get the words out, and Jotaro looked so relieved Noriaki was afraid he’d pass out. Instead Jotaro visibly steeled himself and held his hand out to Noriaki.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s go inside. We can look at rings while we wait for the rain to clear up.” Jotaro’s fingers flexed slightly and Noriaki’s heart did a concerning series of stops and starts and skips.
But what was he going to do, say no? He loved Jolyne, and he did everything for her, but this one thing he wanted for himself. Besides, they were only looking. There was a possibility nothing would come of it. But also a possibility everything would come of it.
Noriaki gently set Jolyne down, his heart fluttering at the way she wobbled unsteadily on her feet in the most adorable way. She yawned and rubbed her eye before holding her hand up to him. Noriaki took it, and then a moment later he felt Jotaro’s hand engulfing the other, holding him tight.
Neither of them intended to let go this time.