Chapter Text

CHAPTER 1:

"And though she won't be gone forever, 

There are many times I find it feels that way

And I'm not trying to forget her,

Just understand how I'll be feeling on that day 

It's just like seeing her for the first time, again."

—For the First Time, Mac DeMarco

      •☆•

Rain had a way of making the city quieter.

Not silent—Tokyo would never be silent—but softer. The distant rush of cars became muted against wet pavement, neon signs blurred into watercolor streaks, and the endless noise of people seemed to retreat indoors where it belonged.

Jotaro liked that, but he would never admit it out loud, obviously.

But at three in the morning, with rain tapping steadily against his bedroom window and the rest of the house asleep, he could almost pretend the world had stopped asking things from him.

A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the dark ceiling above him. Thunder followed shortly after.

Jotaro sighed into his pillow and glanced toward the glowing red numbers of his alarm clock.

3:07 AM.

“Tch.”

He rolled onto his back and stared blankly upward for another minute before finally giving up on sleep altogether.

The mattress creaked as he sat up. His room was dim, except for the occasional glow from passing headlights outside. Marine biology books sat in uneven stacks across his desk and floor, their pages worn soft from rereading. His sketchbook rested half-open near the edge of the desk beside an uncapped pen.

Star Platinum lingered near the window.

The stand was half-hidden in shadow. Its massive shoulders relaxed as it watched the rain with an unusual sort of stillness.

Jotaro rubbed a hand down his face. “You’re not sleeping either?”

Star glanced over, “Ora.”

“Yeah. Same.” He stood, stretching stiff muscles before grabbing his school coat from the back of his chair. His hat followed automatically afterward, fingers finding the familiar brim without thought. By the time he shoved cigarettes and a lighter into his pocket, Star had already faded from view.

The hallway outside his room was dark.

Jotaro moved quietly down the stairs, careful to avoid the step that creaked loud enough to wake his mother. He didn’t particularly feel like getting smothered with affection before sunrise.

At the front door, he paused long enough to grab the umbrella leaning against the wall.

The second he stepped outside, cold rain misted across his face.

The air smelled clean, streetlights reflected gold against flooded pavement while rainwater rushed along the gutters in shimmering streams. Jotaro opened the umbrella above himself and began walking without much thought toward the only place still open this late.

The diner sat a few blocks away near the train station, glowing against the storm like a lighthouse.

Its bright “24 HOURS” sign flickered inconsistently.

Jotaro hated that sign.

The bell above the door jingled softly when he stepped inside.

Warmth immediately wrapped around him alongside the familiar scent of coffee, grease, and sugar. Only a few customers occupied the booths scattered around the diner—exhausted salarymen nursing coffee cups and a truck driver asleep with his head resting against crossed arms.

Jotaro made his way toward his usual booth by the window.

Right on cue, the waitress appeared.

“Jotaro! You’re out late tonight.”

He grunted in acknowledgement while shrugging off his damp coat.

She smiled knowingly. “Couldn’t sleep again?”

“Something like that.” He didn’t make any eye contact. 

“The usual?”

“Yeah.”

“Alrighty. Fries, chocolate milkshake, no cherry.”

Jotaro nodded once. Once she received the approval, the waitress disappeared back toward the kitchen, humming quietly to herself.

Rain streaked down the windows beside him in crooked rivers. Outside, headlights smeared across wet streets like paint dragged by careless hands.

Jotaro rested his cheek against his fist. Quiet—finally. Then the front door opened again.

A gust of rain-cooled air swept through the diner alongside someone unfamiliar, to which Jotaro looked up automatically.

The boy standing near the entrance couldn’t have been much older than him. Tall, though still shorter than Jotaro by a noticeable margin. Bright red hair clung damply against his forehead from the rain, and freckles dusted across pale cheeks flushed pink from the cold.

He looked exhausted. Not physically exhausted exactly—more like the kind of tired that settled behind someone’s eyes.

The stranger awkwardly shook water from his sleeves before glancing around the diner uncertainly.

Tourist…or new in town.

Jotaro looked away before the guy could notice him staring. Still, he found himself listening.

The waitress approached the newcomer with the same energy she always had. “Well, aren’t you drenched?” she laughed gently. “Sit wherever you’d like, hon.”

“Thank you,” the redhead replied, voice soft and a little embarrassed.

He chose the booth directly across the aisle from Jotaro.

Weird choice.

Most people avoided sitting near others when the diner was this empty.

The guy picked up a menu but didn’t seem to actually read it. He kept glancing absently toward the rain outside instead.

A few moments later the waitress returned.

“Ready to order?”

“Uh…” He blinked down at the menu like he’d forgotten it existed. “Just coffee, please.”

“Anything to eat?”

“I’m alright.”

“You sure?”

He smiled politely. “I’m sure.”

The waitress gave him a skeptical look but wrote it down anyway before disappearing again.

Jotaro watched rain slide down the glass.

The stranger rubbed absent circles against the ceramic coffee mug once it arrived. His fingers were long and ink-smudged near the side of his hand, like he spent a lot of time writing or drawing.

Eventually Jotaro’s food arrived. The waitress slid the basket of fries and milkshake onto the table with practiced ease.

“No cherry,” she announced dramatically.

“Good.”

“You know, one day I’m gonna convince you cherries aren’t evil.”

“They’re disgusting.”

She shot back, “they’re fruit.”

“They’re slimy.”

She laughed under her breath. “You’re impossible.” She giggled to herself as she went back to tending to the other customers.

A few minutes passed.

“Excuse me?”

Jotaro looked up.

The redhead stood awkwardly beside his booth now, still holding his untouched coffee cup.

“What.”

The guy hesitated like he was reconsidering this entire decision in real time.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I just—you seem like you’re from around here.”

“I am.”

“Oh. Good.” Nervous laughter slipped into his voice. “Because I think I got completely lost.”

Jotaro stared at him blankly.

The boy shifted awkwardly under the silence. “I was exploring earlier and didn’t realize how far I’d walked before the rain started.”

“And?”

“And… I was wondering if you knew where Fireside Avenue is.”

Jotaro blinked once.

“You… serious?”

“Unfortunately.”

“That’s like two miles from here.”

The guy groaned quietly into one hand. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“You walked that far?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

For a second, neither of them spoke.

Then the stranger sighed dramatically and offered a sheepish smile. “I’m new here, if that makes it any less pathetic.”

Jotaro snorted softly before he could stop himself.

The redhead looked surprised at the sound.

“…You laugh?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

The boy grinned slightly at that.

Jotaro hated how weirdly easy his expression was to look at.

“Can you at least point me in the right direction?” the stranger asked hopefully.

Jotaro glanced toward the rain outside. Still pouring; he sighed.

“Finish your coffee.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll walk you.”

The guy blinked like he genuinely hadn’t expected kindness.

“Oh.” His expression softened almost immediately. “You really don’t have to—”

“I know.”

“…Still. Thank you.”

Jotaro shrugged with his hand.

The stranger smiled again before returning to his booth.

Something about him felt strange in a way Jotaro couldn’t place yet. Not necessarily dangerous, just familiar in an odd kind of way. Like standing near someone whose silence matched yours without effort. 

Jotaro frowned slightly at the thought and took another sip of his milkshake.

Across the diner, the redhead looked out the rain-covered window with tired eyes while absentmindedly tracing shapes into the condensation gathered around his coffee mug.

And for the first time in a while, Jotaro didn’t really mind that someone else was sharing the quiet with him.

      •☆•

The rain softened by the time Jotaro and Kakyoin reached their street.

Streetlights reflected in puddles along the pavement, turning the sidewalk gold and orange in broken fragments. Their shoes splashed quietly through shallow water while the occasional car hissed past on the distant main road.

Jotaro kept his hands shoved into his pockets, and Kakyoin kept glancing around like he was trying to memorize everything.

It was weird. Most people treated the city like background noise, but Kakyoin looked at everything with genuine curiosity. The cracked sidewalks. The little convenience store at the end of the block. The flickering streetlight that buzzed every few seconds. Even the rain.

Jotaro noticed the way Kakyoin tilted the umbrella slightly to watch droplets slide off the edges.

“You really like rain, huh?” Kakyoin asked suddenly.

Jotaro looked over. “What makes you say that?”

“You don’t seem annoyed by it. Most people are.”

“They complain about everything.”

“That’s true.” Kakyoin laughed softly beneath the umbrella.

Jotaro pulled lightly at the brim of his hat.

“Also,” Kakyoin added, “you walked out in the middle of a storm at three in the morning. That usually means someone likes rain.”

“Tch.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Maybe.”

“Knew it.” Kakyoin smiled like he’d won.

Jotaro didn’t understand why that annoyed him and made him feel strangely warm at the same time.

They crossed another intersection. The rain was lighter now, only a steady drizzle tapping against the umbrella overhead. Kakyoin adjusted his grip on the handle.

“Do you usually go to that diner that late?”

“Sometimes.”

“Insomnia?”

Jotaro glanced sideways at him. “That obvious?”

“Kind of.”

“Hm.”

Kakyoin nodded like he understood completely. “That happens to me too sometimes.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Usually when my thoughts won’t shut up.”

Jotaro stared ahead. That sentence sounded way too familiar.

The silence returned for a little while after that, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Kakyoin didn’t seem like the kind of person who needed constant noise to fill empty space. Jotaro appreciated that more than he wanted to admit.

At some point, Jotaro noticed Kakyoin shivering slightly.

“You’re cold.”

“Hm?”

“You’re shaking.”

“Oh.” Kakyoin laughed awkwardly. “Maybe a little.”

“You’re soaked.”

“So are you.”

“I’m used to it.”

“That… sounds concerning.”

“It’s not.”

Kakyoin honestly didn’t know how to react to that statement.

Jotaro sighed quietly and tugged his coat off his shoulders. Before Kakyoin could protest, he shoved the coat toward him.

“Put it on.”

“What? No, no, that’s okay—”

“Just take it.”

“But then you’ll be cold.”

“I said I’m used to it.”

“That’s not what you said,” he mumbled, soft enough that Jotaro wouldn’t hear. Kakyoin hesitated before carefully taking the coat.

It was noticeably too large on him. The sleeves covered half his hands.

Jotaro looked away immediately. Something about it felt weirdly personal.

“Thanks,” Kakyoin said quietly.

Jotaro grunted in response. But internally, his thoughts were becoming increasingly more difficult to organize.

Why am I being nice to him?

He barely knows this guy.

Kakyoin slipped the coat on fully. It smelled faintly like cigarette smoke. Oddly comforting.

The two continued down the street. Eventually Kakyoin spoke again.

“So, what’s your favorite subject?”

“Marine biology.”

Kakyoin blinked. “That’s unexpectedly specific.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. You just don’t exactly look like someone who’d be passionately interested in sea creatures.”

Jotaro scoffed. “What does someone interested in sea creatures look like then?”

Kakyoin opened his mouth, then closed it again before making any sound. 

“…Okay, fair point.”

Jotaro almost smirked. Almost. “You?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“Favorite subject.”

“Oh.” Kakyoin brightened slightly. “Probably literature.”

“Literature?”

“Yeah. I like analyzing stories.”

“That sounds boring.”

“It’s not boring.” Kakyoin laughed. “Well—sometimes it is. But good stories are interesting.”

“You sound like a teacher.”

“That’s devastating.”

Jotaro actually let out a small huff of laughter.

Kakyoin noticed immediately. “There it is!”

“What?”

“You laughed.”

“I didn’t.”

“You absolutely did.”

“You’re imagining things.”

Kakyoin grinned.

Jotaro looked away. Good grief.

Why is talking to him so easy? Most conversations felt exhausting. People usually expected reactions from him he didn’t know how to give. But with Kakyoin, the conversation just flowed naturally.

No pretending, or forcing expressions. No performing. Just…talking.

The realization unsettled him slightly.

They turned onto their street.

Rows of large suburban homes stretched ahead of them, most windows dark at this hour.

Kakyoin slowed a little. “This neighborhood is nice,” he stated. “...our neighborhood?” He paused for a second to think about what he was trying to say. “Whatever—you know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I guess it’s alright.”

“You say everything like you’re disappointed in it.”

“That’s because most things are disappointing.”

“That’s a sad worldview.”

“It’s realistic.”

Kakyoin tilted his head.

“I don’t know. I think some things are worth being optimistic about.”

“Like what?”

“Small things.”

Jotaro waited for him to continue.

“The smell after it rains,” Kakyoin said. “Finding songs you really like. Late-night diners. Meeting interesting people.”

Jotaro’s chest tightened slightly. Interesting people.

Kakyoin didn’t seem embarrassed by saying it either. He just said it plainly, like it was true.

Jotaro suddenly became very aware of the fact that Kakyoin was still wearing his coat. 

And carrying his umbrella.

And walking beside him like they’d known each other longer than twenty minutes.

It should’ve felt strange. Instead, it felt strangely natural.

They reached another stretch of sidewalk lined with puddles. 

Kakyoin looked upward. “The clouds are finally clearing.”

Jotaro followed his gaze. Sure enough, patches of dark blue sky were beginning to appear between the storm clouds. A few stars peeked through too.

“Hm.”

For some reason, neither of them spoke after that. The silence between them shifted more thoughtful.

Jotaro found himself listening to the sound of Kakyoin’s footsteps beside him.

Then he realized he was listening to Kakyoin’s footsteps beside him.

Which was ridiculous.

Get it together.

Eventually they approached a quieter stretch of road. Kakyoin glanced at the house numbers.

“Almost there.”

“Yeah.”

The streetlights buzzed faintly overhead.

Jotaro shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. He suddenly found himself not wanting the walk to end yet. Which was even more ridiculous.

Then Kakyoin spoke again. “Can I ask you another question?”

“What.”

“Why’d you help me?”

Jotaro blinked. “What?”

“You didn’t have to.” Kakyoin shrugged lightly. “Most people would’ve ignored me.”

Jotaro looked ahead. “I don’t know.”

That answer was honest; he genuinely didn’t know. Something about Kakyoin had made it impossible to leave him standing there alone in the diner. Maybe it was the tired look in his eyes? Or the fact that he looked genuinely nervous asking for help? Or maybe Jotaro was just weak.

Whatever the reason was, he didn’t understand it.

Kakyoin smiled faintly. “Well… thank you anyway.”

Jotaro nodded once.

They reached the front of Kakyoin’s house shortly after. The moving truck still sat in the driveway. Most of the lights inside the house were off.

Kakyoin stepped onto the walkway, then turned back toward Jotaro.

For a moment neither of them spoke.

Rainwater dripped quietly from the umbrella.

Kakyoin held it out.

“You can take this back now.”

“Keep it.”

“What?”

“You’ll need it more than me.”

Kakyoin looked surprised.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“…Thanks. Well, at least take your jacket back,” the redhead said as he took it off.

“Oh, yeah. Guess I kinda need that.”

There was another pause.

“Well,” Kakyoin said softly, “I’ll probably see you around.”

“Probably.”

“At school too, apparently.”

“Unfortunately.”

Kakyoin laughed.

“There’s the optimism again.”

“Tch.”

Kakyoin stepped backward toward his porch. “Goodnight, Jotaro.”

Jotaro hesitated. “…Night.”

Kakyoin’s expression brightened slightly at the response, then he turned and headed toward the front door.

Jotaro stood there for a few seconds longer than necessary. Watching the porch light reflect against rainwater, and watching Kakyoin disappear inside. Then he finally turned toward his own house.

The walk home felt strangely quiet now.

Empty?

Who knows.

When Jotaro stepped inside, the house was silent.

Good. His mother was asleep.

He slipped off his shoes near the door and headed upstairs, fingers brushing absentmindedly against the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

Halfway up the stairs, he paused. A different smell.

Rain.

Cigarette smoke.

Coffee.

And a lingering trace of cherry.

Jotaro frowned slightly, realizing the scent was coming from his coat—the coat Kakyoin borrowed.

Good grief.

He continued upstairs. His bedroom was dark except for pale moonlight leaking through the curtains.

Jotaro sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, the silence settling around him immediately.

Usually he liked silence, but tonight it felt louder somehow. He leaned back against the wall and stared at the ceiling.

Kakyoin.

The name repeated in his head without permission. He barely knew anything about him.

Just that he liked literature, and late-night conversations, and cherries—apparently.

And yet somehow Jotaro already knew he wasn’t like everyone else. He was too easy to talk to.

Star Platinum materialized quietly beside the bed. The stand crossed its arms and looked down at him.

“Ora.”

“Don’t start.”

“Ora ora.”

“I’m not thinking about him.”

Star Platinum gave him an unimpressed look.

Jotaro clicked his tongue. “Shut up.”

The stand tilted its head slightly.

Then, annoyingly enough, it mimicked Kakyoin’s smile. Jotaro immediately grabbed a pillow and threw it directly through the stand. “Go away.”

Star Platinum only looked more amused.

Jotaro groaned and dropped backward onto the mattress.

Rain continued tapping softly against the windows. The storm was finally ending. But for some reason, Jotaro felt like something else had just started.