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Jotaro had a feeling Jolyne might be embarrassed by him.
He didn’t always think this. It started when Jolyne enrolled in university this autumn, coincidentally, at the university where Jotaro worked. It made things convenient; he got to see his daughter more often because she decided to move back in from her mother’s to cut back on dorm costs—per Jotaro’s offer—and it was convenient because Jotaro could take Jolyne with him to campus.
Here came the issue.
Jotaro figured Jolyne should’ve outgrown the typical embarrassed-to-be-seen-with-my-parent phase long ago. He experienced it with his mother back in high school, but after graduating—and a deadly fifty-day trip to Egypt to save her life—he realised his embarrassment was trivial and frankly childish. Every time Jotaro drove Jolyne to campus, Jolyne asked him to drop her off a street or two earlier; he didn’t understand why, especially when it meant Jolyne would have to walk for a few more minutes just to get to the same place. Even if she was running late, she would still insist that Jotaro drop her off a street earlier. It extended to not even acknowledging him if they ever passed by each other on campus; their campus was huge, so the chances were low, but on the few occasions Jotaro did see his daughter, Jolyne turned her head away and briskly walked past him. As if she didn’t even know him.
Jotaro wasn’t sure if Jolyne acted like this when she primarily lived with her mother—maybe, he should give her a call—but her behaviour was starting to get concerning rather than simply odd.
A horde of dark and vengeful clusters clouded the once clear sky, a roar of thunder blasting in the distance, blasts of rain cascading down onto the streets—Jotaro let out an exasperated sigh at the overcrowded traffic lining the roads. It was a bustling Monday morning, and with the weather being this awful, everyone was rushing to get to where they needed to go. Jolyne sat in the passenger seat beside him, her cheek squished against her palm as she gazed out of the foggy window. Jotaro wasn’t sure what she was looking at in particular; he could barely see where he was driving, even with the windshield wipers on. Maybe, at the array of glowing traffic lights and signals through the blurry windows, or the silhouettes of colourful umbrellas and people rushing to get out of the rain.
Soon, the traffic cleared, and Jotaro was nearing campus. He was driving along a street until Jolyne reached towards him. “You can drop me off around here,” she said, and Jotaro cocked a brow.
“It’s raining.”
Jolyne mimicked his expression, “So?”
Jotaro pointed his chin outside, as if that was any indicator. “You’ll get soaked.”
Jolyne’s brows furrowed together, irritation rising in her expression. “I don’t care, I want to be dropped off here.”
A sound of disbelief left Jotaro. “You’re going to get sick if I let you walk to campus in this weather,” he explained matter-of-factly. Was Jolyne so embarrassed by him that she’d rather walk in the rain? “It’s more convenient if I just drop you off in the car park.”
“But I want to be dropped off here,” Jolyne repeated—both her voice and expression growing more frustrated. This was ridiculous. After weeks of this, Jotaro had to put his foot down.
“No.”
“No?” Jolyne scoffed.
Jotaro made a left turn, away from the usual street Jolyne requested him to drop her off at—a vexed sigh escaping him at yet another horde of traffic lining the roads by campus. “You cannot expect me to be okay with you walking in the freezing rain; you will definitely get sick,” he explained, but the irritation twisting in Jolyne’s features doubled in size.
“You know what?” Jolyne grabbed her bag and opened the car door. Jotaro’s eyes widened.
“Jolyne,” he called out, but Jolyne had already slammed the car door shut, trekking around the car and onto the footpath in the pelting rain; her hair getting soaked and her clothes even more drenched, a slight shiver in her step. Jotaro slid down his window, “Jolyne!” he called out again, but Jolyne pretended she couldn’t hear him, or maybe she actually couldn’t—the street was a cacophony of car horns and the drumming rain pour. Jotaro couldn’t even chase after her if he wanted to; he was still stuck in traffic, which didn’t seem as though it would clear anytime soon.
Jotaro leaned back into his car seat, massaging the bridge of his nose under his hat. This wasn’t going to end well.
A barrage of coughs ripping from her throat, Jolyne let out a nasally groan as she leaned back into her pillows, looking absolutely miserable. With her damp fringe matting onto her forehead from sweat, nose glowing red from the number of times she had sneezed and sniffled—as Jotaro had predicted, Jolyne had caught a cold.
On a tray table, Jotaro had brought her some soup—Holly’s recipe—a change of a damp towel, and more medicine. “Special delivery,” he announced, earning him an unimpressed chuckle from Jolyne’s shivering and miserable self. She perched up on her pillows, allowing Jotaro to set down the bed tray in front of her. “Careful, it’s hot,” he warned, and Jolyne nodded. “Star also brought you another blanket,” Jotaro said, and Star Platinum manifested to drape a fluffy blanket over Jolyne’s shoulders. Jolyne’s lips curved into a small smile.
“Thank you,” she responded, gently blowing on her spoonful of soup before taking a slow sip.
“It’s good,” Jolyne commented with a dry chuckle. “If only I could taste it.”
Jotaro mimicked her chuckle, he took the damp towel from the tray and began wiping at the droplets of sweat forming across her temple—just like his mother used to do for him—tucking a green strand behind her ear. “I did tell you so.”
Jolyne scoffed, tipping her head back. “You’ve been burning to say that, haven’t you?”
Jotaro only offered a small smirk, though he wasn’t at all pleased that Jolyne had gotten ill. He wished she had just listened to him. “How are you feeling?” Jotaro asked instead.
“I’ve felt better,” Jolyne remarked, taking another sip of her soup. Jotaro set the towel down, sitting down on the side of her bed.
“Why didn’t you listen to me before?” Jotaro asked, his voice growing serious all of a sudden.
Another scoff tore past Jolyne’s lips, “Dad, if this is another one of your lectures—“
“It isn’t,” Jotaro interrupted, his voice stern yet still soft around the edges. Sometimes, Jolyne could be a ticking time bomb—puberty and its callings—Jotaro had to be careful with how he chose to manoeuvre this, or else his daughter might get upset. “Why won’t you let me drop you off closer to campus?”
Jolyne paused for a moment, her expression twitching with something unreadable. She set down her spoon with a short sniffle, “I don’t like it,” she breathed out, like that was a sufficient explanation. Jotaro’s brows furrowed.
“But why?” he enquired. Getting an answer for something, anything from his teenage—technically adult, but she would always be a child to him—daughter was like finding a needle in a haystack. The more Jotaro urged, the further Jolyne pulled away, but Jotaro didn’t know what else to do. “Do you not want to be seen with me?” he asked slowly, his voice alarmingly small for someone of his stature and stoicism.
Jolyne’s expression softened for a moment, “No, it’s just—“ she cut herself off, shaking her head. “I just don’t like it, okay?”
“Jolyne—“
“Just leave it alone!” Jolyne cried out, her expression contorted with vexation. A few trembling breaths escaped her, her shoulders rising and falling. She set aside her bed tray on her bedside table, nestling into her covers with her back turned to Jotaro. “I’m tired. I’m going to get some rest, so you can leave now, okay? Thanks for the soup,” Jolyne muttered; she buried her head under the covers to really sell the message.
What could Jotaro say? Any attempts he made to ask Jolyne about her strange behaviour got shut down. What else could he do? Instead, Jotaro simply sighed and got up.
“Alright,” he said, taking Jolyne’s tray and stepping out of her room.
Closing the door behind him, Jotaro went to the kitchen to place Jolyne’s bowl in the sink. He was about to get the soap, until, “How’s Jolyne doing?” Noriaki called out, and Jotaro almost jolted.
“Jesus Christ, don’t sneak up on me like that,” Jotaro answered instead, turning on the faucet to rinse off the dirty bowl. Jotaro reached for the dish soap, “She’s doing alright, just as alright with anybody with a cold.”
Noriaki let out a half-laugh, “Who would’ve thought Jolyne was that desperate not to be late that she walked in the rain?” he commented, an amused expression on his features. “I didn’t know she was this dedicated,” he continued, and Jotaro only shared a small smile. He turned off the tap once he had finished cleaning Jolyne’s bowl, placing it on the dish rack to dry.
“About that, I…” Jotaro trailed off, and Noriaki quirked a brow, sensing the shift in tone. He reached for Jotaro’s hand—not caring if they were still wet from washing the dishes. “I think Jolyne might be embarrassed of me.”
Noriaki’s brows raised. “Embarrassed, why?”
Jotaro’s hand, which Noriaki wasn’t holding, clutched onto the edge of the sink. He stared down at the drain. “I don’t know. Since this semester started, she’s been wanting me to drop her off a street or so earlier before we actually reach campus. We got into a little fight that morning because she wanted me to drop her off earlier, like usual, but I didn’t let her because it was pouring out there. She got mad and got out of the car anyway,” Jotaro explained slowly, he tore his eyes from the sink into Noriaki’s concerned gaze. “I don’t get it. Is she so embarrassed by me that she’d rather get ill than be seen with me?”
Noriaki nodded slowly, a puzzled expression on his face, before it faded into blankness. Instead, his brows grew upturned in a mix of sympathy and pity, and he turned Jotaro around so he could pull him into his arms. God, did Jotaro sound so pathetic that Noriaki felt he needed to comfort him? Regardless, Jotaro returned his affections, tucking his head into Noriaki’s shoulder despite the height difference—it was always nice to hug his husband.
“Have you tried talking to her?”
Jotaro nodded into Noriaki’s shoulder. “Just did, she didn’t want to talk. She just got mad again and told me to leave because she was tired.”
There was a silence from Noriaki that extended into a few moments until he spoke again. “It’s alright, JoJo. Whatever the reason is, maybe Jolyne isn’t ready to tell you yet,” Noriaki assured in a gentle voice—yet, there was an undertone of a knowing tone. Did Noriaki know something he didn’t? “Give Jolyne time, she’ll come around eventually,” Noriaki continued, his slender fingers coming up to caress Jotaro’s scalp, and Jotaro lost his train of thought as he melted into the sensation.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Jotaro said instead, and Noriaki pulled away for a moment, revealing his soft grin.
“Maybe it’s the snakeskin pants,” he remarked.
Jotaro threw him a glare, “Not funny.”
Noriaki’s laughter grew; he pressed a small kiss to Jotaro’s cheek, his fingers threading through the thick black curls spilling across his scalp. “It was a little funny,” Noriaki defended, and Jotaro only scoffed, pressing a firm kiss to his cheek in response.
“Jolyne will come around, just let her be for now,” Noriaki told, and Jotaro only stayed silent; he didn’t know how much of that he believed.
Pacing through the corridors, Jotaro held back an exasperated sigh. In his hands, he held Jolyne’s forgotten lunch for the day.
After a few days of misery, Jolyne had eventually recovered from her self-inflicted cold. Yet, she refused to learn her lesson. Just like always, she ushered Jotaro to drop her off a street or so earlier from campus. Jotaro tried to echo Noriaki’s words from earlier and leave Jolyne alone about it until she was ready to speak to him, but it still felt like defeat each time he listened to her and did as she requested. However, this time, in Jolyne’s speedy pursuit to get as far away from her father as possible, she had forgotten her lunch. It sat dejected in Jotaro’s passenger seat, and before he could even call out to Jolyne, she had already turned the corner. Jotaro tried to keep Noriaki’s words in his head, but he was slowly coming to his wits' end.
Jotaro clutched the paper bag tighter. How was he going to get Jolyne her lunch now? She wouldn’t even look at him on the rare occasion they crossed paths. Maybe, he could leave it in his office and text Jolyne to go get it when he was out, or leave it in a classroom in Jolyne’s designated seat, or ask the librarian—
This was getting ridiculous. Jotaro was at a loss until his solution was right in front of him.
Jolyne’s bright green hair could be spotted from a mile away. She strolled through the hallways, giggling with a few of her friends—she had not spotted Jotaro yet.
The paper bag crinkled in Jotaro’s grasp; he could hear the echoes of Noriaki’s careful voice urging him not to do whatever he was thinking, but Jotaro had long exhausted his options. Whatever Jolyne’s problem was, Jotaro was going to find out for himself. He strode forward, towards his daughter.
“Jolyne,” Jotaro called out, his voice loud enough that Jolyne’s head whipped around in search of that familiar voice until she spotted him. Her puzzled expression morphed into that of mortification. She slowly shook her head, a pleading glimmer in her eyes, but Jotaro only walked closer until he stopped directly in front of his daughter.
Jolyne’s friends shared a similar expression of confusion—one of whom Jotaro recognised to be from his seminars—but Jotaro paid no mind. “You forgot your lunch,” he told, holding out the paper bag.
Jolyne’s mortified expression didn’t change. She slowly took the bag from him and stared down, avoiding his gaze.
Not even a thank you. Yet, Jotaro didn’t linger, seeing as he had accomplished what he needed to do. He simply nodded at Jolyne before he walked past her; however, once he made a left turn to open the door, Jolyne was striding off in the corner of his gaze, a concealed rage in her step.
Jotaro’s lips curved into a frown, an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. Had he done the right thing?
Jotaro had, in fact, not done the right thing.
Once Jotaro had returned home, Noriaki was waiting for him in the living room with his arms crossed and face stern, frustration burning in his gaze. Good grief.
“What did you do?” Noriaki barked from the couch; by his tone, this was definitely about what had happened with Jolyne today. Give me a break. Jotaro took off his shoes first—his gaze falling to Jolyne’s boots lined on the shoe rack. So, she had gotten home before him.
“I brought Jolyne her lunch today,” Jotaro explained, walking to the couch. “Did she speak to you when she got home?”
“No, she just kicked off her shoes and stormed upstairs,” Noriaki explained, a peeved look in his eyes. “When I tried to ask her what happened, she told me to ask you.”
Jolyne’s mortified expression flickered in Jotaro’s memory, and guilt began to twist in his gut. “I see,” he said instead.
Noriaki shot up from the couch, “Jotaro, you—“ he groaned loudly, sliding his palms over his face in disbelief. “I thought we talked about this. You were supposed to let Jolyne come to you before you decided anything for yourself.”
“I don’t understand why she got so upset,” Jotaro shot back, weeks of built-up frustration and confusion fizzling out of him. He didn’t understand, and nobody was trying to make him understand. “Noriaki, she doesn’t even want to be seen with me, and she won’t explain when I’ve tried to ask her. What else was I supposed to do?” he asked, exasperated.
Noriaki then took in a deep breath. “Jotaro,” he began slowly, all of a sudden. “Why didn’t you like it whenever Holly tried to pick you up from school?”
Jotaro resisted the urge to scoff—why didn’t he like it? Every day, he would be ridiculed by his classmates with stupid comments about his mother, such as, “Damn, your Mom is pretty hot for a gaijin, Kujo!” or, “Your Mom likes Japanese guys, huh? I can be just her type!” Jotaro even suspected Noriaki of being infatuated with his mother from how much he complimented her whenever he was over. Jotaro beat up all of those snarky-mouthed assholes without another thought. For as long as he lived, he wasn’t going to let anybody talk like that about his mother. Perhaps, that was why Jotaro began acting out and urged his mother to stop coming to pick him up every day from school, because if Jotaro had to hear another comment about how hot his mom was, he’d—
“Oh,” Jotaro said simply, everything falling into place now.
“Oh,” Noriaki mocked, pinching the bridge of his nose over his glasses, another exasperated groan leaving him. “Jotaro, I thought you would’ve figured it out by now.”
“I didn’t—“ Jotaro began, a hand sliding down his jaw. “I didn’t know. I didn’t think she even cared.”
A sigh tumbled past Noriaki’s lips, “Maybe if you were just dropping her off, but you work as a professor in the school,” he muttered, taking off his glasses to further massage his forehead. “Hell, Jotaro. Even a few of my students, who probably only have one class of yours in their entire schedule, talk about you. Imagine Jolyne going through what you did with Holly, but a million times worse—can you blame her for not wanting anyone to know she was your daughter?”
Jotaro slowly sat down on the couch, the synapses in his brain firing to make connections for all of these past weeks. “Did Jolyne tell you about this?”
“No, Jotaro. I figured it out because I’m not as dense as a brick like you apparently are,” Noriaki scoffed. He sat down next to Jotaro, but his expression didn’t budge, arms still crossed. “I expected that she was going to come around eventually, you know, before her clueless father thought to take things in his own hands!”
Normally, Jotaro would get at Noriaki for the insult, but he figured he deserved it right now. “Where is she now?” Jotaro asked.
Noriaki pointed his gaze towards the stairs. “In her room, still, I wouldn’t check on her too soon. She only got back an hour ago,” he explained.
A long and exhausted sigh dragged from Jotaro’s lips. He leaned back slowly against the couch, his head in his hands. “Good grief,” Jotaro breathed out. He really screwed up, didn’t he?
“I’d normally be nice and assure you, but yes, you did,” Noriaki chimed in, and Jotaro peeked at him through the gap in his fingers. Did he say that out loud? “Look, Jotaro. I think you need to actually leave her alone this time. At least for a while until she’s ready to talk.”
Jotaro’s hands slid off his face, resting in his lap. “Yeah,” he said, and actually meant it. He felt absolutely awful, but there was nothing he could do about it but wallow in his own mistakes.
An hour later, Jotaro had made his way to the kitchen and began peeling an apple with a knife. He normally asked Noriaki to handle the knives, but their peeler had recently broken. Jotaro diced the fruit into cubes, placing them into a small bowl. He even added a decorative toothpick that his mother had gotten from Japan. He slowly made his way up to Jolyne’s room and placed the bowl down outside her door—a simple peace offering.
When Jotaro returned another hour later, the bowl he had left had vanished from the door. Jotaro stood still for a minute, standing stupidly outside the door, before he hoped it had been long enough and knocked gently on the door. Jotaro held his breath.
Jolyne let out a muffled sound, which Jotaro interpreted as permission to enter. He opened the door slowly, peeking his head into Jolyne’s room. A tune from the CD player was humming in the background, her bag was thrown across the floor, and the curtains were shut—Jolyne was curled into a heap of blankets on her bed, the bowl of fruit Jotaro had left was sitting on her bedside table, now empty minus the toothpick. Jotaro opened the door further, waiting a second for Jolyne to say anything in protest before he stepped inside. He switched off the radio.
“What do you want?” she grumbled, her back turned to Jotaro.
Jotaro stared at Jolyne’s miserable form before he sat down at the edge of her bed. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you today,” he let out slowly.
“Huh, you still did a great job of doing that anyway,” Jolyne retorted from her little cocoon.
“I didn’t—“ Jotaro began, he shifted his gaze away, an uncomfortable look twitching in his expression. “It was wrong of me to come up to you today. I just didn’t understand,” he continued, and that had Jolyne stilling. She slowly shifted around, her green fringe peeking out from the small hole forming in her cocoon.
Jotaro couldn’t help himself; he still had to know, “Are you ashamed of me?”
The hole grew bigger, Jolyne’s head and hands peeked out, her fingers clenched around the edge of her blanket—the anger in her gaze slowly dissolving and being replaced with a look of dubiety. “No, I’m not. I just—“ she began, then slowly slid the blanket further down her body. Jolyne sat up, her head in her hands, “I can’t deal with it.”
Jotaro’s brows raised. Was this finally it? “Deal with it?”
A low groan escaped Jolyne; she nodded into her hands. “I can’t deal with stupid classmates constantly telling me how hot they think you are, asking me if you're single, or for your number.” She cut herself off with another groan, her hands sliding off her face in exasperation, gaze averted. Jolyne scoffed to herself, a bitter smile splaying on her lips. “I probably sound so stupid right now, complaining about how I can’t stand to be seen with my dad, or else my classmates are going to start bugging me—“
“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Jotaro interrupted. Jolyne slowly turned her head towards him.
“You don’t?”
Jotaro shook his head, his brows twitched with a distant yet irritated look in his gaze at the memory. “I also used to experience the same thing, you know, with my mother.”
Jolyne’s brows furrowed, “Grandma Holly?”
It was as if Jotaro was a teenager again—he resisted the urge to scoff, and instead nodded. “Yeah,” he said simply. “All the boys in my class used to make crude comments about her to me, because they saw her picking me up from school. It was so damn annoying, I had to almost beg your grandma to stop picking me up, or else I’d have to deal with all of that,” Jotaro grumbled.
Jolyne tilted her head, a pensive look in her gaze. “Did you ever tell her about it?”
Jotaro almost scoffed, the sound instead morphing into a dry chuckle. “No, where would I start with that? That would be mortifying to explain—“ Jotaro paused, realising the irony in his words, “Oh.”
A drier chuckle left Jolyne. “Now, do you get it?” she asked, an unimpressed expression on her face, and Jotaro only nodded in disbelief with a similar look, his hand covering his mouth.
Jolyne nudged a little closer towards him, “So, what did you do instead to deal with it?”
At that, Jotaro’s lips quirked into a small smile, “I beat them up.”
“Dad!” Jolyne cried with a laugh, her eyes widened in disbelief. “Really?”
Jotaro could only sigh, “Yes, but I’m not encouraging you to do the same. I won’t be impressed if I get a call from the dean about you getting into a fight,” he warned.
A loud string of giggles erupted from Jolyne, her eyes crinkled, her form trembling. Jotaro chuckled along with her, laughing at the situation, at the ridiculousness of it all. Their laughter soon died down, and Jotaro glanced at his daughter with an apprehensive look. He hesitantly held his arm out, making a space for her, and Jolyne smiled—curling up into her father’s chest, Jotaro wrapping a warm arm around her.
Their gentle breathing echoed in Jotaro’s ears, his own heartbeat thrumming in his chest, against Jolyne’s ears. He took a breath, “I’m sorry.”
Jolyne glanced up at him in mild disbelief before she swallowed and her head tilted back down. “I’m sorry, too,” she responded, her words obstructed by her cheek smushed against Jotaro’s chest. “I’m not ashamed of you, I could never be.”
Jotaro’s lips curved into a soft smile, the tension twisting in his gut slowly ebbing away. “I actually used to brag to my friends back in high school that my dad was a professor,” Jolyne added, a soft chuckle in her words. “When I lived with Mom.”
Jotaro stifled a chuckle, “Good grief, really?”
Jolyne nodded, “Mhm. It was the biggest thing I could boast about,” she remarked, a sense of pride coating her words.
Chuckling, Jotaro curled his arm tighter around his daughter, stroking her back affectionately. They fell into a silence once more—Jolyne nuzzling her cheek further into Jotaro’s chest, her green fringe spilling across her face, and Jotaro trying to smooth out the rest of her hair cascading down her back. It was a comfortable silence until Jolyne spoke up again.
“Love you, Dad,” she mumbled, so quiet that Jotaro almost couldn’t hear her, but he did.
Jotaro pressed a long kiss to the crown of Jolyne’s head—trying to let his daughter know just how much he loved her, how much her cared for her, worried about her, with this one single action. He tucked a stray strand of Jolyne’s green fringe against her ear. Jolyne leaned into the touch.
“You think you’ll let me finally drop you off at campus now?” Jotaro asked after a while. Jolyne only let out an unamused laugh, the sound vibrating against his chest.
“Yeah, what’s the point anymore?” she let out, defeated. Her phone buzzed against her with a notification, but Jolyne didn’t even bother to check it. “I already have people asking me for your number.”
“Good grief,” Jotaro said in disbelief, “Have you told them I’m happily married?”
Another scoff tore past Jolyne’s lips, “You think I haven’t tried?” she remarked, “Did your classmates listen when you told them that about Grandma Holly?”
Jotaro’s chest trembled with another chuckle. He ran his hand down Jolyne’s back absentmindedly. “I suppose you’re right,” he responded, before his expression grew a little serious. “Do you want me to send an email to the board about it?”
Jolyne shook her head. “Nah, it’s fine. It’ll die down after a bit,” she muttered. “I suppose I’ll have to just lie low for a while,” Jolyne joked, a bored chuckle in her tone. Jotaro’s lips curved up into a small smile.
“You’re a Joestar, you’ll be fine.”