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Josuke’s sipping his drink (cappuccino) and humming along with the song on the cafe’s radio (Raspberry Beret) when he realizes that he’s being watched. That familiar fission of recognition; there’s another stand user nearby. It isn’t Koichi or Okuyasu--he knows what they feel like, and it’s nothing like this.
Crazy Diamond’s presence crackles along his spine as he looks over his shoulder. He stands up so fast his chair falls over. “What are you doing here?” It’s that fucking manga artist, sitting at the table beside Josuke’s, a soda next to his elbow and a sketchpad in his hands.
Rohan doesn’t look away from his work. “I wanted a drink. I do only live a few blocks away, you know.”
“No, I mean--.” Josuke rights the chair with a sheepish glance toward the barista. “Why here, at that table. We’re the only ones here, it’s awkward.” Like picking a urinal right next to a guy when a whole bunch of them are open.
“I sat close because I wanted to sketch you.”
The honesty takes Josuke by surprise. “Well, don’t, okay? I don’t like you.” It’s not a very nice thing to say to a person, but he deserves it.
Rohan bites at the tip of his pen. “Mm, I don’t much care for you either.”
“Then why are you drawing me?”
Rohan’s eyebrows jab inward. He looks like he doesn’t understand the question. “Because you’re gorgeous.”
Josuke waits for the “hah! psyche!” but it doesn’t come. Rohan just keeps drawing. So he’s...serious? Josuke flushes and rolls his eyes. “I guess now I’m supposed to be like, ‘wow, thanks’?”
“I don’t care. I wish you’d hold still and shut your mouth, though.”
Josuke find himself leaning closer to try to get a glimpse of the picture. For real, he should just leave. This guy is a serious creep.
“Wait, I thought you hated my hair!” He jabs an accusatory finger at Rohan. “Why do you think I’m--I’m gorgeous, if you hate my hair?”
“Hmm?” Rohan drops his pen for a moment and takes a sip of his drink, cracks his knuckles. He has long, thin fingers. “Oh, I just said that to piss you off. I don’t care about your hair. It’s not the part of you I’m interested in.”
Josuke almost asks what parts he is interested in, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to know.
Rohan goes back to sketching. “Though I do think you’d look better a little more mussed. Maybe I’ll change that in the drawing…”
Josuke makes an irritated sound. “Like I’m going to take fashion advice from you.” He’s not sure what Rohan is wearing, but there is a lot of denim involved, and metallic eyeshadow. It’s not great. Well, it looks okay on him, but objectively. Bad.
“I don’t see why you have such a problem with this,” Rohan says. “You were just sitting there anyway. And don’t you owe me for trashing my house?”
“Hey, I was saving my friends, whose faces you were peeling off!” Josuke snaps, incensed.
“Well, you don’t have anything to worry about, then. I won’t be using Heaven’s Door for that anymore.”
“What, really?” Josuke has unconsciously nudged his chair around--they’re basically sitting at the same table now.
“If I do you’ll stop me, right? I couldn’t draw for a month after you injured my hand. It still hurts sometimes.” He flexes it to show him.
Josuke feels a sharp little stab of guilt, which annoys him. “Yeah, well. How do you know I won’t beat the shit out of you anyway, just because I feel like it?”
Rohan looks back up, and...are his eyes a little different? Dilated, that’s what it’s called, Josuke’s pretty sure. His pupils are dilated. “You wouldn’t, though. That’s not the sort of archetype you embody. You’re too lawfully aligned.”
“What?” This guy is such a weirdo. “You’ve sure thought about me enough for a guy who claims he doesn’t like me.”
“I don’t need to like you to find you attractive or be inspired by your character.” Rohan is alternating between completely ignoring him to focus on his sketchpad, and giving him piercingly intense looks. They make Josuke feel weirdly vulnerable, even though he’s fully clothed and could take Rohan in a fight no problem.
He wants Rohan to fuck off, but he also kind of wants him to keep telling him how attractive he is. It’s weird. Like, in no way does this guy’s opinion matter to him, and it’s not like he wants men hitting on him or anything, but...it is kind of a nice thing to hear. Flattering. But the fact that Rohan is so sure he won't kind of makes him want to kick his ass just for the hell of it.
"You don't know anything about my 'character'."
Rohan is is a little scared of him, he realizes. His breaths are quicker than they were, his fingers gripping white around his pen. “You won't beat me up," he repeats. "Because then I’d tell you that when you hit me I found it arousing, and it will freak you out so much you won’t do it.”
“Wha--.” Okay, now Josuke’s face is really hot. “It’s, it’s freaking me out now! Why did you tell me that?”
Rohan makes a gesture that means you see?
“Oh. OH. I see what you’re doing. This-This is just like with my hair, right? You’re trying to piss me off.”
Rohan is smiling. It’s not a particularly nice smile. “You’ll never know, sorry.” He flips his sketchpad shut and drains his soda. Stands up. “This was very fruitful. I’ve got lots of new ideas for my manga. You should model for me seriously some time.” This smile isn’t exactly nice either, but it does something to Josuke’s insides. It reminds him a little of the mingled exhilaration and trepidation before a fight. And, uh, something else too but lots of things remind him of that. “You’re broke, right? I’ll pay you.”
“Wait, what? R-Really?”
“Same time, here, next week? Wear something less bulky.”
“Wait, I haven’t said yes yet--.”
“And don’t drink too much caffeine, it’s bad for your complexion.”
“Hey, don’t just--.”
Rohan lets the cafe door bang shut behind him, leaving Josuke sure he’s lost a fight he hadn’t even known he was having.