Chapter Text
Jotaro Kujo was a busy man.
Too busy for the weekly visits to the pub in Morioh that his thesis advisor invited him to every week. He was too busy for sex, if the lonely nights shared with his right hand were any indication. Therefore, he was way too busy for love, let alone marriage, hence why the first one didn’t work out so well.
But holy shit, what he really didn’t have time for was a parent-teacher conference for a kid that wasn’t even his.
He had gotten the call from Josuke’s high school, the little shithead, a few hours earlier. The shrill sound of his phone jerking his stiff neck up from its resting place on his desk. It was an unpleasant wake-up call, to say the least, the tired, drawled out voice of the underpaid high school counselor flowing into his ear. Bits of information were thrown at him, barely being recognized in his graduate-school conglomerate of exhaustion.
Little pieces of the conversation were what forced him to actually wake up before noon. Slews of, “—Ms. Higashikata told us to contact you—” and, “—she had an unexpected call into work, and we’re not able to reschedule—” were what made him begrudgingly agree to be at the high school in about an hour. He took a quick shower, more so a fifteen-minute daze of standing underneath the stream of water, motionless, hot enough to redden his skin and heighten his desire to be beneath his sheets more than most mornings. It seemed that today wouldn’t be accompanied by his usual afternoon stroll along the coast, his academics and passion-driven love for the sea making the usual haze of sleepless nights worthwhile. Today, he was forced outside of his marine life littered bubble, had to dawn clothes not meant for the water, and assimilate himself into a society that was much more simple, much more mundane.
Jotaro Kujo was not a fan of the mundane.
But he figured that he could give Tomoko this one favor, especially after reading her frantic text messages as he opened the doors to his wardrobe, strings of panicking apologies and pleas to meet with Josuke’s homeroom teacher. After pulling on a gray turtleneck and black fitted slacks, he reassured the woman that it was fine, that he’d take care of it. Besides, he was rocking a killer sunburn on his back from a few days before, and maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t kill him to take a one day break from the beach. But it doesn’t mean he’s happy about it in the slightest.
Sure, his advisor had been spewing consistent compliments his way lately, and yeah, he may or may not have been over a month ahead of schedule for his deadlines, but whatever, sue him, he lived for his work, for the ocean.
Though as he pocketed his phone and grabbed a black overcoat from the rack on his way out the door, he found himself letting out the tiniest of relieved sighs at the thought that he’d have just a few hours of leisure, away from academia. Granted, his usual definition of “leisure” didn’t consist of seeing Josuke’s ugly mug at ten in the morning on a Thursday, or meeting with whatever instructor that was forced to deal with the kid’s bullshit, but he’d take the time away from the highlighters and slouched desk posture in stride. Afterall, his research portion of the thesis was nearly completed, so the majority of his days recently had been consisting of far too much caffeine and with his ass stuck to the mahogany chair behind his desk. He’d relish in the chance to stretch out his spine, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t mutter under his breath about how much he’d rather be lounging on the sand instead of making his way further inland.
After making a hasty trip to a local cafe for some much-needed coffee, black, of course, and grimacing at the annoyance of early-morning traffic, he made his way into the parking lot of the school. Pulling down the overhead mirror, he attempted to slick back the unruly curls on his forehead with little success, cursing at his damp hairs that refused to stay in place. He hissed complaints under his breath as he stood out of the car, patting down his coat and holding his drink within his palm—what the fuck are you supposed to wear to these things, anyway?
Just after receiving his visitor sticker, proudly placed on the left side of his chest, the bright blue contrasting almost comically with his dark exterior, he thanked the woman at the front desk quietly as she informed him that Josuke would, in fact, not be present for this conference (nice), and directed him to the third floor, room three-hundred two, apparently where Josuke’s classroom was located.
He walked in brisk strides, quickly finding one of the staircases and began his ascent, two steps at a time. After reaching the third floor and finding three chairs, two of which were occupied by what he assumed to be parents, he made his way over and took a seat. Looking up at the classroom’s entrance, he sighed as he read the plate on the wall, 302.
After about forty minutes of sipping his, now lukewarm, coffee and waiting, watching parents trickle in and out by the call of their names, Jotaro startled slightly at the slight, deep voice that called from within the classroom, “Tomoko Higashikata?”
As he stood, he started speaking a bit before his entrance through the threshold, once again pushing his hair away from his forehead, only for it to fall back into place immediately after.
“Yeah, uh, Tomoko couldn’t make it this morning, so—” He began, nearly choking on his own saliva at the sight of the man standing behind the teacher’s podium, his nonchalant stature bunching up papers and filing them into folders.
Jotaro was not good with words, unless it was to do with sea creatures of course, but this man was beautiful.
He stood before him in a deep green blouse, its silky material falling deliciously over pale skin and barely visible collarbones. His legs were long, almost as long as Jotaro’s own, and were hugged in a copper-toned slack. His hair fell flawlessly over his face, a cherry-red, his jaw glistening almost unfairly underneath the harsh fluorescents.
“Ah, yes! My apologies, I forgot about the change of plans. I was informed another one of Josuke’s family members would be taking Ms. Higashikata’s place this morning.” He turned his head, giving Jotaro a clear view of his face, and his smile, which was calm and welcoming, with a shocking vibrancy that could battle a Mandarin Dragonet. His eyes molded into half-moon crescents as he gestured him inside.
“I’m Mr. Noriaki Kakyoin, but please, call me Kakyoin.” He—Kakyoin—said, in a cadence that dripped over Jotaro’s shoulders like warm honey and high tides. Ignoring the twinge of heat in his stomach, he quickly overcame his disturbingly starstruck awe and continued to walk through the door.
“Yeah, nice to meet you. I’m Jotaro Kujo, but just Jotaro is fine.” He attempted to smile, though he was sure it came off as an uncomfortable grimace at most, but holy shit, this man was entrancing.
After what felt like far too long, Jotaro met Kakyoin’s outstretched hand with his own. There was no spark, no fireworks, simply a touch that jolted Jotaro’s sweaty palm with the simplicity of gentle skinship, a silent signal of intimacy to show their coexistence within the room. Kakyoin’s handshake was firm, confident, and Jotaro basked in the short-lived skin-on-skin before dropping his hand to his side.
“Nice to meet you as well. Please, Jotaro, have a seat.” Kakyoin smiled, before turning from him briefly to sort through a khaki-colored filing cabinet, presumingly searching for Josuke’s student file. Jotaro shifted awkwardly as he slid into one of the teenage-sized desks, foolishly cramming his hard skin into the seat. He laid his hands on the surface, rubbing his thumbs together in a nervous attempt to soothe the prepubescent-like tug he felt in his chest at the man speaking his name—get a fucking grip, Kujo.
Kakyoin, after retrieving the manila folder he was looking for with a small aha! walked over to Jotaro and sat at the desk beside him. He took note of how the man seemed to slide into the seat much easier than Jotaro himself, watching as he crossed his legs and angled himself towards him, opening the file.
“So, it seems that Josuke is actually doing much better this term, including improving on his test scores. The beginning of the school year was a bit rough,” Kakyoin chuckled before continuing, “His friendship with another boy in my class, Okuyasu Nijimura, was a bit of a loud one, but with some light discipline they’ve both managed to quiet it down during class.”
Jotaro scoffed, a small smirk on his lips, “Fucking brats, those two, I don’t know how you—” He clamped his mouth shut, his eyes slightly wider as he realized his own crassness in front of the man, Josuke’s teacher, for Christ’s sake. Would it kill you to be a bit more professional? Tomoko’s gonna flip if she hears about this.
Yet, rather than an awkward clearing of the throat or judgemental gaze, Kakyoin simply laughed at his remark, shaking his head before lifting his face from the file, making eye-contact with Jotaro from his seat. “Well, between you and me, I definitely agree. Though I must say that they’ve grown on me.”
Jotaro, hesitantly ecstatic at the man’s response, chuckled lightly, “Shockingly so, I commend your tolerance.”
Kakyoin let out another breathy exhale of a laugh and allowed his eyes to stay connected with Jotaro’s for a brief moment before looking back to the file. “Thank you kindly, Mr. Kujo. I’ve garnered stellar patience due to my years here.”
They both let out another brief, polite smile, before Kakyoin continued, “Honestly, I don’t have much more on Josuke that demands immediate attention or cause for worry. A little extra studying here and there may help, though his scores are on track to get him into decent universities if he chooses to further his education in a few years. As always, if he’s ever struggling on a specific subject, I’d always be willing to help, as well as our after-school tutors that we provide. Though truly, I don’t see much that would garner any stress.”
Kakyoin flipped the front of the folder closed and looked up at Jotaro once more before he spoke, “I would tell your wife—Tomoko—that Josuke is doing perfectly fine.”
Jotaro sputters, quickly raising his hands in a shaking motion, “I—thank you—but Jesus, Tomoko isn’t my wife. We’re family. Just—God, no.”
Kakyoin's eyes widened before beginning to rapidly bow his head in panic, a flush working its way up his neck, “Oh! I’m so sorry—I shouldn’t have assumed!”
Jotaro shakes his head, and without thinking, quickly grips Kakyoin’s face and forces the man to stop the repeated motion. He retracts his hands fast, before speaking in a hushed tone, embarrassment flooding his veins, “I-It’s fine. No need to do all that, it was an honest mistake.”
Jotaro chuckles, attempting to lighten the mood, as Kakyoin lets another small, gentle smile grace his features. He nods, though the blush on his cheeks is still persistent. "I apologize. At least now I'm aware."
Kakyoin, after letting his gaze lay on Jotaro’s face in a silent fondness, moved his eyes to the clock on the wall, signaling that their twenty minutes had nearly passed. If Jotaro wasn’t completely enamored with the gorgeous man, he’d dare to say that the sigh Kakyoin let leave his lips sounded slightly disappointed.
“Well, it seems that our time is up,” Kakyoin states with a drawl, before standing and leading Jotaro to the door. Jotaro recalls that upon his entrance to the classroom, Kakyoin hadn’t walked any other parents to the threshold. Jesus, Kujo, poor guy just probably feels bad for mistaking you for married.
Kakyoin opens the door, smiling at Jotaro as he moves through it, before turning back for their final words. “Please, Jotaro, do call if you have any concerns. I’ll be available. It was a pleasure meeting you.” He hands Jotaro a small card, a simple olive green with his name and contact information on the back.
Jotaro stands, smiling back with a small quip of his lips, before replying, “Pleasure was all mine, Kakyoin.”
Jotaro shakes his hand once more, the warmth traveling up his arm. As he moves to walk towards the stairwell, fiddling Kakyoin’s business card between his fingers, he finds his feet as heavy as stone, as if his mind is calling to him the same way it does with the ocean, telling him to stay.
As the brisk, chipper voice behind him called out another name to enter the classroom, Jotaro sighed.
I’m so fucked.