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Humming a soft tune to herself, Jolyne strolled down the corridor in search of Dad’s office.
In her hand, she held her lunch, which she bought at the local 7/11 located on campus. Now, it was a custom for her to drop by Dad’s office on the days their schedules overlapped to have lunch with him. It was a nice way to wind down in the middle of the day before her hectic class schedule would inevitably drag her away, and pages upon pages of physics textbooks to study. Dad’s office was quiet too; she didn’t have to fight with any other students to find a place to sit and have her lunch. Not to mention, she always got a kick out of complaining to the old man about said degree, annoying people, or the time she saw a campus officer almost trip on their feet.
Jolyne’s gaze soon caught on the familiar door, with nothing but his office hours schedule posted onto it. She slid past the many students littering the corridor before she was standing in front of her father’s office.
Jolyne raised her hand to knock. She had already texted Dad to let him know she was coming, but then—
“Hey!” a voice called out, terrified. Jolyne cocked a brow, her head whipping around in search of the voice—if it was even calling out to her—lost in the sea of students. “What are you doing here?”
So, it was talking to her. Jolyne opened her mouth, about to question what was going on, but was cut off when she was dragged by her collar away from the door.
“What—hey!” Jolyne cried out, brows furrowed. The person let go of her collar, and Jolyne glanced up to discover a few students surrounding her, all sharing the same terrified expression. “What was that for!” Jolyne groaned, a wisp of irritation in her tone.
“We just saved you!” the student, owner of the earlier voice, protested, poking a finger into Jolyne’s shoulder. “You were about to knock on Dr Kujo’s door when it’s not his office hours! Who knows what could’ve happened to you?”
Huh? Jolyne cocked a brow once more, “What are you talking about—?”
“One time, a girl in my seminar made the mistake of knocking when it wasn’t his office hours,” another student chimed in, their voice slow and steady. “Apparently, she ran out crying. Dr Kujo doesn’t appreciate people not reading his schedule!”
Jolyne stifled a snort at the image in her mind. She couldn’t imagine Dad outwardly yelling, but something about his aura strangely had people trembling in fear.
“I had a meeting with him once to discuss my grade!” a student jumped in, eyes wide and terrified like they were discussing a scary campfire story. The campfire story being her father. “I barely made it out of there alive, the way he went over every mistake I made in the exam, the times I skipped out on a lecture, my late assignments—I shouldn’t have asked at all!”
A student nodded earnestly. “Once, I tried to text someone back during one of his seminars,” they let out slowly. “He was on the other side of the room, but then, when I glanced up, he was standing right behind me!”
A few of the other students gasped, and Jolyne resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “It was like he stopped time or something, he wasn’t even saying anything! He just stood there silently until I noticed, it felt like my heart was about to fall out of my ass!” they recalled, shuddering slightly at the memory.
“I tried to ask him for an extension once,” another student recounted, terror in their voice. “He straight up refused. It was only over email, but imagine I had asked him in person!”
“Ugh, he’s so hot though,” a student dreamily sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know why he pursued teaching. Have you seen the way he’s built? He looks like he could lift trucks with his bare hands for a living—I’m scared he might punch the next student who asks him a dumb question.”
“He’s scary but in a hot way!” Another chimed in.
Jolyne made a face. Gross.
“He looks like he’s definitely killed someone,” a student let out quickly. “If my life wasn’t on the line, I’d definitely shoot my shot!”
Well, that was an academic violation Jolyne didn't need to hear about. God, what was taking Dad so long—?
“Jolyne,” a familiar voice called out, and the students in front of her froze in their spot—looking even more terrified than before at the sight behind her. Jolyne slowly glanced back to discover Dad outside his office door, clad in his usual clunky purple jacket and matching hat, a questioning brow raised. A smile broadened Jolyne’s lips.
“Dad,” she responded, grinning, and Jolyne swore she heard a choked gasp. Good grief. Jolyne spared the students behind her a disconcerting glance before making her way over to him. “What took you so long?”
Dad opened his office door further to let Jolyne in. “I was grading some papers,” he said, and Jolyne hummed, strolling into his office like she owned the place as Dad closed the door behind her. She dumped her school bag onto his chair, taking a seat opposite him on the spare chair.
Her father shot her an unimpressed look, taking Jolyne’s bag and hanging it behind his chair instead. While Jolyne got out her convenience store lunch from earlier, setting it onto his desk.
“Were those your friends?” Dad asked, rummaging through his own bag to retrieve his lunch, which looked a lot more nutritious than Jolyne’s processed meal. A lunchbox filled with rice and vegetables, and other proteins.
Jolyne stifled a snort, “Not exactly.” She retrieved her sandwich from the paper bag, taking a bite. She grimaced a little—the sandwich had gotten a little warm now from when she had first bought it, but she had paid for it, so it was what she was eating.
Dad cocked a brow, glancing at her food. “That can’t be good for you,” he commented, getting out his chopsticks.
Jolyne merely shrugged, taking another bite. “It was cheap,” she reasoned.
“You should try to eat more healthily,” Dad sighed, and Jolyne once more resisted the urge to roll her eyes at him and his stupid lecture. This was the same man everybody was so afraid of? “At your age, it’s important to eat as nutritiously as possible. Your grandma sent me an article the other day—“
“Look, old man. It was cheap, and it saved me time,” Jolyne interrupted, brows furrowed. She aggressively took another bite, as if that would prove her point. “Unless you have another suggestion for what I should eat, I’d appreciate you save the lecture for another time,” she snarled, and Dad paused—the slightest of surprise riddling in his usual blank expression. Jolyne paused too, a slight guilt in her chest for snapping at him.
“I can pack you lunch,” Dad offered after a moment of silence, and Jolyne’s eyes widened. “I used to make you bentos when you were little, do you remember that?”
At that, Jolyne’s lips quirked up to form the smallest smile. She remembered the decorative lunches Dad used to pack for her when she was younger. It was usually only for special occasions, like if she got a good report card, or it was her birthday, she was practically the coolest kid in class whenever lunch time rolled around.
Jolyne nodded slowly. “Yeah,” she breathed out, “I remember.”
Dad bore a small smile himself, picking at his rice. “You tried to make me a bento once,” he recalled, eyes slightly crinkled. “It was for Father’s Day, do you remember?”
Jolyne held back a fond scoff. Of course, she remembered. It was by no means a pretty bento—Noriaki tried his best to help her—she had packed him some poorly made rice balls, where some of the filling leaked out. Along with some badly cut seaweed for decoration, and a few cooked vegetables. Jolyne remembered skipping over to Dad before he left for work to give him the bento, and her joy when she discovered it to be empty when he returned.
“It was so bad,” Jolyne laughed, an inkling of pity in her tone. “You still ate it though.”
“I did,” Dad responded, “Noriaki told me you worked really hard on it.”
Jolyne’s laughter grew louder, her shoulders shaking. At the image of her poor old man forcing himself to eat a poorly-made bento to spare her feelings. Good Grief. Some Father’s Day, Jolyne wouldn’t be surprised if Dad began to dread it each year—
Jolyne’s eyes slowly drifted to the calendar by Dad’s aquarium, before slowly widening.
Father’s Day was in three days.
Three days, and Jolyne had only just remembered now.
“Fuck,” Jolyne let out to herself, and Dad cocked an unimpressed brow.
“I hope you don’t speak like this to your professors,” he commented, and Jolyne didn’t have the gall to scoff at him. Not now, when there was a crisis on her shoulders.
What the hell was she going to do?
Throwing her bag onto the couch, Jolyne kicked off her boots the moment she got home. She messily placed them on the shoe rack by the front door, uncaring about how they tumbled over after.
“Woah—hey!” A voice cried out, and Jolyne glanced up to discover her bag floating in the air, a glimmer of Hierophant Green wrapped around the strap. Noriaki was sitting on the couch, a book on his lap.
“Oh. Sorry, Nori,” Jolyne sheepishly let out, grabbing her bag from the air. Hierophant released its grip.
Noriaki adjusted his position, making way for Jolyne—who slumped down onto the couch next to him, head nestled against his shoulder. “Oh,” he let out, and he wrapped an arm around Jolyne’s back. “What’s got you so upset?”
Was it that obvious? Jolyne was driving herself into an utter mess. Father’s Day was in three days, and Jolyne had no idea what to get the old man. She couldn’t make him a bento again; she had already done that—despite it being poorly made—almost a decade ago. She couldn’t get him a pair of dolphin-printed pyjamas; she had already done that the year before. She couldn’t get him one of those stupid mugs with a badly-written fish pun on the ceramic; she had already gotten him that three years ago! It didn’t help that Dad was impossible to shop for. Jolyne could get him a bag of coal, and he would thank her with a questioning grin. Perhaps a little too questioning. At least Mama would straight up tell her what she was eyeing, but trying to get anything out of Dad was like talking to a brick wall! Jolyne had long exhausted her options. She was at a total loss.
A low sigh dragged from her lips. She glanced up at Noriaki. “Nori?” she let out, and Noriaki hummed for her to continue. Maybe this was an opportunity for her to venture outwards to find out more about Dad—her own version of market research.
“What was Dad like when you met him?”
Noriaki’s expression shifted, then tightened. He sheepishly averted his gaze, “Well, we both tried to kill each other,” he recalled. Jolyne’s eyes widened. “Well, no. I was the one trying to kill him. Your father was only defending himself. See, Dio implanted a fleshbud that made me obey his every command.” Noriaki gestured to his forehead, past his glasses, before he cupped his face dreamily. “Then your father took it out, and we fell in love.”
Right. Jolyne held back her grimace and instead nodded with a tight expression. She glanced back down. “So, how did you figure out what he’d want as a gift?”
At that, Noriaki’s brows raised. “Ah, are you figuring out what to get him for Father’s Day?” he asked, and Jolyne sheepishly nodded. Busted.
“Well, when we met, we were a little younger than you were, so we didn’t have much money. Normally, we would just buy each other ice cream after school,” Noriaki laughed to himself, and Jolyne raised an unimpressed brow. Not helpful. Noriaki sensed her expression and shut his book, pulling her closer. “A year after we first reconnected, I got him a framed photo of us in Egypt—to reflect on how much we’ve grown since then. Your dad can be surprisingly sentimental, you know?”
Jolyne stared up at Noriaki, then down to her lap, where she fiddled with her chipped nail polish. Sometimes, it felt like she didn’t know her old man at all. Jolyne had known him her entire life, yet she never seemed to know what was going on inside his head.
“Jolyne, I’m sure your father will love whatever you get him,” Noriaki said, voice suddenly a little serious. After the silence between them stretched for a bit too long.
That was the issue, Jolyne didn’t know the difference between Dad actually liking something or him trying to spare her feelings. Now, she didn’t know if he had ever liked any of her previous gifts. She just wanted to know what he was thinking.
“C’mon,” Noriaki urged, standing up from the couch. “Why don’t you help me with dinner? It’s my turn to cook. Your father should be getting home soon.”
Jolyne only nodded and wordlessly followed Noriaki into the kitchen—hopefully, the promise of a nice dinner could wash away her grievances.
Lying on her stomach, Jolyne’s legs dangled off her bed as she waited for her laptop to connect to a Skype call.
Jolyne nestled her head into her pillow, her green strands spilling across the pillowcase. She squinted at the loading screen; it seemed as though it was taking forever before her call was connected, revealing Mom’s grin through the pixelated screen.
“Hi, JoJo!” Mama beamed, her scratchy voice coming through her laptop’s shitty speakers.
At that, Jolyne smiled into the pillow; her mother’s voice always lifted her spirits. She recognised the background of her mother’s bedroom. She was in bed just like her. “Hi, Mama,” Jolyne let out, voice small.
“How’s everything at your dad’s? Are your classes okay? How are you finding college?” Mama flooded her with the usual barrage of questions, concern riddled in her beaming tone. It was like this every call. She would never change.
“Things are fine, my classes are good but difficult, and college is going okay,” Jolyne answered everything through a soft sigh. “You worry too much, Mama.”
Mama’s brows grew upturned through the pixelated screen, sheepish. “I know, but I can’t help but worry. You’re my only daughter, and you’re so far away from home,” she sighed out, the last part of her sentence glitching out for a moment—but it did nothing to erase the slight smirk forming on her features.
“Your dad called me earlier,” Mama began slowly, and Jolyne’s stomach sank a little. This would never end well. “He told me about how you were embarrassed to be seen with him. What was that about?”
Jolyne’s entire face flushed with embarrassment—that shitty old bastard!
“I’m going to kill him,” Jolyne said simply. Not a threat, but a promise. “Why did he call you about that!” she groaned out, a frustrating warmth steaming in her cheeks, which only amplified her mortification.
Mama’s smirk remained. “Now, now. Don’t avoid the question. I’ve never seen your father sound that distressed before, and I thought he’d be the one giving you grief. What did you do to him?” she laughed.
“It’s resolved now!” Jolyne chimed in, still flushing. Mama kept laughing, parts of her laughter glitching out at times through the shitty internet. She was going to kill her old man—first, she was going to give him the best Father’s Day gift ever, then she was going to kill him. Jolyne waited for her to stop, glancing off to the corner of the screen like that would make it less embarrassing.
“Mama, can I ask you a question?” Jolyne asked once her laughter subsided.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
Jolyne readjusted herself on top of her pillow, resting her cheek on her palm. “How did you know what to get Dad as a present when you were married?”
Her mother’s brows raised, and she paused for a moment to think. “Honestly, JoJo. We rarely got each other gifts, but I did get your father something for his birthday the year after you were born,” she recalled, and Jolyne hummed for her to continue. “I got him a small frame of me and you at the hospital, engraved with your birthday. We didn’t really do birthday gifts with each other, but he and his mother helped out immensely after the birth. It was a small thing I wanted to do for him.”
Jolyne remembered seeing that frame somewhere in Dad’s office back at home—a small smile graced her face.
Her mother realised she was rambling before she paused. “Why’d you ask, JoJo?”
At that, Jolyne sighed. “I don’t know what to get him for Father’s Day,” she admitted, a little in frustration. “He’s, like, impossible to shop for. I can only get him so many badly-printed, fish-themed things, and I don’t even know if he likes those.”
“Oh, Jolyne,” Mama said softly, her voice fond. “You’re his only daughter, your father will love anything you decide to get him.”
“I don’t want him to like it just because I’m his only kid,” Jolyne grumbled. “I want him to like it because it’s a good gift.”
Mama was silent for a moment, maybe out of pity, or because she didn’t know what else to say. “How long have you got?” she asked after a while.
“Three days,” Jolyne replied.
“See, you still have time,” Mama assured, a warm grin on her features, before her expression shifted. “Jolyne, I’d love to help you brainstorm some more, but I have to make dinner soon. Have you eaten?”
“Yeah, I helped Nori with dinner earlier,” Jolyne mumbled into her pillow. She waved at her screen. “Bye, Mama. I love you,”
“I love you too, JoJo. I’m sure you will find a great gift to give him,” Mama said, waving into the camera as well. “Good luck!”
And just like that, the call disconnected.
Jolyne slammed her laptop shut, groaning silently into her pillow. Now, she seemed even more lost than when she started.
Days passed, and Jolyne was getting even more antsy.
Father’s Day was tomorrow, and Jolyne had absolutely nothing. She had tried absolutely everything, anything she had thought of was either too lame an idea, she was too broke, or she had already gotten him as a gift before! What kind of daughter couldn’t come up with a simple gift idea for her old man?
“Are you alright?” Dad’s voice called out, and Jolyne jumped up from where she was slumped onto the kitchen island. Dad was dressed down for once, seeing as it was the weekend, in an old university shirt and without his stupid hat, holding a mug of what she presumed to be coffee. “How’s studying going?”
Jolyne raised a questioning brow, then her gaze fell to the cluster of notebooks and papers that cluttered around the wooden expanse—filled with brainstormed notes about potential gift ideas. Jolyne scrambled to pile her notes into a smaller mess, hiding her scribbles from the old man as soon as possible before he could take a better look.
“It’s going okay,” she lied. “Just... trying to review content.”
Dad stared at her for a moment before he nodded. “Alright,” he said. “Do you need help?”
A soft, amused scoff escaped Jolyne. She wasn’t sure how much of her old man’s marine biology degree could help with her physics homework. Weren’t they supposed to be on the opposite sides of science?
“I’m fine,” she assured, before her gaze fell to her notes. “Unless—I mean—I could use some advice?”
Dad’s expression grew a little serious, and he slowly pulled out a chair to sit next to her at the island. “What’s the matter?”
Jolyne spared her father a sheepish glance before staring down at her lap. She slid her arms from the table. “If you had to get Grandma Holly something for her birthday, but you can’t think of anything unique, what would you do?” Jolyne let out slowly, trying to word her sentence in the least obvious way before her old man could catch onto what she was actually asking for. “And I mean, you want to give her a really good gift. Something that she won’t just say she loves just to spare your feelings, something you actually want her to enjoy.”
Dad was silent for a while, and a thick layer of unease settled in Jolyne’s stomach, praying to God he wouldn’t figure her out. Before he cleared his throat.
“I don’t think it would matter what I specifically got her,” Dad let out slowly. “It would be nice if there was something she was particularly eyeing. But I think, as long as she knew I tried, she would appreciate that I went out of my way to do something for her.”
Jolyne slumped a little; that was basically a rehashed version of what Noriaki and her mother said—that her father would like anything she gave him, just because.
“You know, I used to give your grandma a hard time when I was around your age,” Dad spoke after another silence. Jolyne perked up, eyes wide, and Dad had a small, distant yet guilty look across his features. “I was really rude to her, I’d get into fights with classmates and disrespect my teachers. There was a time I went to jail once.”
“Huh?” Jolyne let out in utter disbelief—she couldn’t imagine her father in jail. She knew he was a bit of a delinquent at that age, but that seemed a bit much, even for him. “Really?”
“Really,” Dad sighed, staring at his mug. “Our relationship was a little rocky. I stressed her out a lot as a teenager. I didn’t like it when she fussed too much over me, but I still loved her. I’m sure she knew that too, which is why she didn’t get too upset with me as she should’ve.”
Jolyne didn’t say anything, only nudged closer towards her father, who had a distant look in his gaze. “After Egypt, I stopped acting out as much,” Dad recalled. “For her birthday once, I took her out to her favourite restaurant and had JiJi take some photos because we didn’t have any current ones yet. Do you remember those pictures? It wasn’t much, but I could tell she enjoyed herself. Because she knew I was trying to fix things between us.”
A small grin burst across Jolyne’s face. She remembered grandma showing her those photos—despite Dad’s hesitance and embarrassment—when they visited her in Japan. Grandma Holly seemed to hold that memory close to her, grinning brightly each time she recounted the story.
“Grandma Holly loves you a lot,” Jolyne said softly, glancing up from her lap, and Dad let out a small chuckle.
“She does,” he responded fondly.
Then, Dad reached over to card his fingers through her hair, raking through the green strands of her fringe—he patted Jolyne’s head gently.
“Good luck with studying,” he said, a small smile blooming across his face. Jolyne returned the grin. Dad’s hand was warm.
“Thanks,” she said.
Dad flicked away a stray green strand from her face before he got up, taking his mug with him. Jolyne watched as he disappeared from the kitchen, and her gaze returned to her scattered notes across the dining table.
Her father didn’t ask Jolyne the reason for her question. Either because he already knew, or he wanted to spare her some privacy. Jolyne was glad he didn’t ask. Though she still had no idea where to go from here. It was nice to listen to her father’s own retelling of memories, but it didn’t do much to help Jolyne with her current situation.
Until, later that day, lying horizontally across her bed, her head hanging off the mattress with her navy locks spilling across the floor—did the idea finally occur to her. Jolyne shot up in her bed to sit, fumbling for her phone to call the right number.
“Mama, can you send me my baby pictures?”
Finally, it was Sunday.
A symphony of the birds’ chirping could be heard from outside, the warm streams of the morning sunlight leaking in through the curtains from her window, and the gentle humming of the coffee maker echoing from the kitchen. Jolyne hadn’t slept. She had stayed up all night. Her eyes were bloodshot, strands of her green fringe sticking up in the air like stalagmites, hands trembling as she held up her beloved project in the air—she had finally finished making her gift for Father’s Day.
Jolyne stepped over to her mirror and grimaced at the sight. She rubbed at her eyes and brushed out her hair, hoping to make herself look more presentable when she gave Dad the gift she had spent the entire night working on.
Hiding it behind her back, Jolyne slowly made her way downstairs and scoped out the place—glancing both left and right. Right, towards the kitchen where Dad was making himself a cup of coffee, as dressed down as he was yesterday, devoid of his usual hat.
Now or never. Jolyne held her hands tightly behind her back before stepping towards the kitchen, and Dad glanced over at her.
“Ah,” he let out, and he was about to greet her before Jolyne got closer. “Good grief—what’s wrong with your face? Did you sleep at all?”
At that, Jolyne scoffed in utter offence. She was sure she didn’t look that bad. Regardless, Jolyne revealed what was behind her back, holding the gift out to her old man with a snarl.
“Happy Father’s Day, asshole.”
“Oh.” Dad stared at the gift in front of him, slowly taking it from his daughter as he gazed at the cover. He ran his fingers across the cardboard material, at the decorative letters Jolyne had printed out, and the picture of them she had stuck onto the cover. It was of her when she was little, riding on Dad’s shoulders at the park; it must’ve been before the divorce because Mama had taken the picture.
Jolyne suddenly grew sheepish at Dad’s silence, fighting not to avert her gaze. “Um, it’s a scrapbook,” she explained, like it wasn’t already obvious. She gently flipped open to the first page for him, urging him to look through it himself. “I printed a bunch of our pictures together through the years, um, and wrote a few notes about each memory.”
It wasn’t anything expensive, nor was it elaborate, but it was well thought-out to the best of Jolyne’s ability, and more importantly, she had worked really hard on it. Dad flipped onto a page about their first visit to the aquarium together—decorated with pictures of the trip that Mama had taken, along with a few passages Jolyne had written, recounting the memory. Her father stared at the page for a few moments, and Jolyne’s cheeks began to burn.
“Don’t read them now!” she groaned bashfully, forcefully flipping onto the next page. “You can, um—you can do that later, when I’m not here.”
Her father glanced up at her, and Jolyne shuddered under his gaze, still flushing, before his gaze returned to the scrapbook. He wordlessly flipped through the other pages—a sequence of both him and his daughter getting older captured across the pages. Yet, his expression was still so blank, Jolyne couldn’t tell what was going through his mind.
“Say something already,” Jolyne grumbled, the anxiety combined with getting no sleep being too much for her feeble heart.
Dad’s mouth opened to say something, before he closed it. Then he opened it again, and nothing came out, until—
“It’s wonderful,” he let out, a little breathless. “Jolyne, I—this is the most thoughtful gift someone has ever given me.”
It was hard to tell with Dad’s tone and expression if he was telling the truth. He always bore the same, slightly pissed-off look in his eyes, but maybe it was Jolyne’s sleep deprivation that was making it hard for her to discern from that and now.
“You’re not just saying that because I’m your only kid and there’s no competition?”
That had Dad’s features breaking out into a rare smile. He chuckled, shaking his head. “No, I’m not,” he assured, and he pulled Jolyne in close, wrapping an arm around her back. “Thank you, Jolyne. This truly is a wonderful gift.” Dad pressed a warm kiss to the crown of her head.
Jolyne grinned warmly, leaning into the affection. Then, it was all worth it. To see Dad as close to beaming from her present. “You think so?”
Dad nodded, stroking down her mess of hair cascading down her back. “I do,” he said. “Was this what was keeping you up all night?”
At that, Jolyne grew a little apprehensive, and she backed away from her father’s hold. “Not exactly,” she half-lied—for one, because she didn’t want to admit she was up all night and risk the lecture, and perhaps, because she didn’t want to worry him.
Dad slowly raised a suspicious brow, but he didn’t say anything. “Alright,” he said instead, and he gently placed the scrapbook atop the cabinets so as not to get it dirty. “Go sit down, I’ll make you breakfast.”
Jolyne didn’t have much energy left in her to protest. Normally, on this day, that was her job, but after staying up all night to make her gift, perhaps she deserved this one little thing. Jolyne made her way to sit at the kitchen island, where she fought not to slump forward in both victory and exhaustion. She had done it; she managed to make Dad an amazing present, and aside from her sleep and sanity, it cost next to nothing.
Jolyne sheepishly thought back to her stress a few days ago.
Maybe she had gotten a little too caught up in her head about this.
Sat on the couch, Jotaro sipped at his mug of coffee as he flicked through the pages of the scrapbook Jolyne had made him—each page filled with a memory of their time together. He fought to hide the grin spreading across his face.
Perhaps, he shouldn’t be so blatantly scanning through the book in front of his daughter, who sat next to him on the couch, sipping at her hot chocolate. She had gotten rather embarrassed when Jotaro had tried to read some of the passages on the page in front of her. So, he gently closed the book shut, but when he leaned over to set it and his mug onto the coffee table, Jolyne’s weight fell onto him, and—
Ah.
Jolyne had fallen fast asleep on his shoulder. With her lashes tickling her eyelids (and eye bags), strands of hair falling over her face, and her mouth slightly agape, Jolyne had inevitably crashed. After all, she had stayed up all night to make him his gift—Jotaro could hear her pitter-pattering footsteps during the night—he felt a little guilty.
Summoning Star Platinum, Jotaro retrieved a blanket from the other couch to drape over his daughter. Jolyne’s fingers loosely wrapped around the handle of her empty mug, which Jotaro took as well, placing it onto the coffee table.
Tucking the blanket carefully over her, Jotaro pulled his daughter close to his chest—where he pressed another warm kiss to her scalp, leaning his head against hers for a moment. Jotaro shut his eyes.
It didn’t matter what she got him; Jotaro would always cherish it as much as he cherished his daughter.
The following Monday rolled around, and Jolyne stood outside her father’s office. Lunch in hand.
She quickly glanced around her, making sure she wouldn’t encounter a similar mishap like last week. After making sure her surroundings were secure and she wasn’t going to be ambushed, Jolyne carefully turned the knob and let herself in.
Dad was hunched over his desk, gruelling over some papers. A typical sight she was accustomed to—both at school and at home—Jolyne snapped him out of his haze, slamming her lunchbox down in front of him.
At that, Dad slowly glanced up with an unimpressed look, to which Jolyne only smirked and sat down opposite him. “Fancy seeing you here,” she joked.
Her father simply rolled her eyes at her, straightening out his papers before placing them elsewhere on his desk to make room for his own lunch. Jolyne stifled her amused chuckle as she opened her lunchbox, grinning at the bento Dad had prepared for her this morning. She was about to dig in, but then her face fell at what her gaze caught on his desk.
“What the hell is this doing here!” she cried out, mortified.
Dad was mid-bite through his lunch. He swallowed before pushing the cover of the scrapbook closer towards Jolyne. “It’s your scrapbook,” he said simply. Smartass.
“Yeah, I know that!” she groaned, cheeks flushing. “I’m asking what it’s doing here, in your office at school.”
“It’s nice to look at when I’m in here,” Dad replied, a small smile on his face—not at all mocking, which only made things worse. “It wouldn’t make sense to keep it at home since I’m here most of the time.”
“For your students to see too?” Jolyne let out, embarrassed, breathless and in utter disbelief. She didn’t want to know how many of Dad’s students had seen this during his office hours today.
Dad was quiet for a moment before speaking. “They’ll know I have a thoughtful daughter,” he responded, then he went quiet again. “Unless you want me to put it somewhere else?” Dad’s voice was small.
A shard of guilt jabbed through Jolyne’s chest, and she slowly shook her head. “No, it’s fine,” she grumbled after a while. “You can keep it up. Good grief, it’s just a little embarrassing, that’s all.”
Her father was silent once more, and a small smile overtook his features. “I don’t think it’s embarrassing,” he said softly, adjusting the book so only the insides of the pages were visible from his angle. “Like this, anyone who comes in can only see the cover. They won’t be able to see what you wrote inside.”
Jolyne stared at the cover, at Dad’s small grin from the old picture. “Well, it’s embarrassing for anyone to have their baby pictures displayed,” she grumbled, still flushing. “But you can do what you want,” she let out, glancing away.
Dad’s smile remained, “Alright.”
Despite it being a little embarrassing, Jolyne fought to conceal her grin. Dad liked her present so much that he wanted to keep it with him as much as possible, to show everyone how much he loved it. She hid her smile with a mouthful of her rice ball, avoiding her old man’s gaze, but then her face fell with the impending realisation.
Good grief, how was she going to top Father’s Day next year?