Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5891086.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      ジョジョの奇妙な冒険_|_JoJo_no_Kimyou_na_Bouken_|_JoJo's_Bizarre_Adventure
  Relationship:
      Higashikata_Josuke/Kishibe_Rohan
  Character:
      Higashikata_Josuke, Kishibe_Rohan
  Additional Tags:
      Crossdressing, Foot_Jobs, Post-Series, Dry_Humping, Humiliation, Heavy
      Petting, Premature_Ejaculation, Rimming, Anal_Fingering, Blow_Jobs,
      Orgasm_Delay/Denial, Masturbation, Intercrural_Sex, Dry_Orgasm, Sex_Toys,
      90's_Setting, Dirty_Talk, Costumes, Spanking, Pining, Comedy
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-02-03 Updated: 2017-05-22 Chapters: 26/? Words: 113494
****** Working Arrangement ******
by chien
Summary
     Josuke propositions Rohan into letting him perform some odd jobs for
     the manga artist in return for summer spending money.
     (Basically, this fic explains the circumstances occurring in this
     drawing I did of Josuke sitting on Rohan's desk in a maid dress with
     cash shoved under his garter straps: http://justchien.tumblr.com/
     post/137141925125 )
Notes
     This is unedited– my usual habit is I write everything out and then
     edit it as a batch at the end. I haven't written anything in about
     four years, but I've been dying to write this fic.
***** Chapter 1 *****
The Great, Famous Manga Artist Rohan Kishibe suppressed a groan behind a tight
frown as the Most Troublesome Teenager in the World, Josuke Higashikata,
pressed a stockinged foot to his crotch. For the last few minutes, Josuke had
been sliding his foot up from where it was originally propped on Rohan’s knee.
His toes had lingered at Rohan’s inner thigh when he peaked through his relaxed
bangs—lip caught between his teeth—at Rohan’s flushed look of concentration.
Emboldened by Rohan’s dark blush and lack of complaints, Josuke delighted as he
circled his big toe over the ridge of Rohan’s swollen cockhead through his
white jeans.
The coiling arousal in Rohan’s belly thrummed as Josuke applied more
pressure—sinking the heel of his foot against Rohan’s firm, hot flesh.
Rohan’s pencil stilled for a moment as he took a shuddering breath—if he didn’t
tell Josuke to back off soon, he knew that they would push past the threshold
They Should Absolutely Not Cross that they had been rapidly approaching—but
then went back to quietly sketching the billowing shape of Josuke’s maid dress
bunched up around his garter-clad thighs into his sketchbook for reference.
After a few more agonizing minutes—Josuke unashamedly dragging the heel of his
foot up and down Rohan’s length—Rohan finished the fabric study he had been
agonizing over.
With interest, Josuke’s eyes followed Rohan’s hands as he carefully put down
the drawing pad and organized the latest practice sketches they had completed
with Josuke modelling for him. While Rohan tucked away his drawing
implements—as if he were packing up shop for the night—Josuke glanced at the
digital clock on his desk and saw that it was very, very late. In fact, it was
the latest Josuke had ever stayed since he started working for Rohan—and
removed his foot from Rohan’s crotch with disappointment. The work day was
over, and Rohan had not succumbed to Josuke's teasing. Maybe tomorrow, bemoaned
Josuke hopefully.
Before Josuke could slide off the desk to get ready to go home, Rohan grabbed
Josuke’s knees and opened his thighs by shoving his knees down into the top of
the drawing desk—causing the teenager to yelp from the sudden display of
aggression. Josuke’s heart leapt further up his throat when he saw Rohan lean
forward from his chair where he was caged between Josuke’s spread legs, the
artist’s lips hovering above the edge of the dress’ fabric hiding Josuke’s
straining erection.
“Teenagers are so horny,” sighed Rohan, before he pushed his nose into the
layers of petticoat to nuzzle the cloth out of the way and finally see if
Josuke was wearing boxer briefs or panties.
 
--
 
A Few Weeks Prior
 
When Rohan finally flung open his rattling screen door with a loud screech of
“What?!,” Josuke thought he looked more haggard than usual. The usually prim
and put-together twenty-year-old man would often degenerate into a bundle of
nerves and fatigue close to his deadlines, but this was the worst Josuke had
ever seen him. The manga artist’s signature cheek bones looked sickly sharp
instead of elegantly high fashion, and the dark circles around his eyes were so
intense that they could had been mistaken from afar for smokey eyeshadow.
Rohan hadn’t lashed out at Josuke uninitiated—a migraine started brewing the
moment he heard Josuke’s voice over the shuddering patter of his screen door
being ratted on. The stupid kid was so goddamn persistent—after he had angrily
ignored the commotion on his porch for several minutes so that he could
continue working on blocking out the shapes for the last few pages of his
manuscript, Rohan wanted to weep. It was clear that Josuke wasn’t leaving. He
had swiped his hair out of his face as he stomped down the stairs from his
drawing room towards the front door, all the while considering ducking into his
utility closet to find a broom to shoo Josuke off the porch with.
However, Josuke had started whining even louder—about how hot it was and how he
was going to die from thirst (which really had nothing to do with Rohan but was
annoying enough to make him seethe even more)—so Rohan had made a beeline to
the front door to shut the brat up faster.
“Whoa, you look like crap,” Josuke blurted out loud with the same, dopey
expression he always wore when perplexed—manners forgotten at the shock of
seeing the artist so gaunt and exhausted.
Rohan squinted at the sweaty teenager—it was so fucking bright outside even
though it was only ten in the morning—then shut the screen door.
Josuke’s fingertips pried at the edge of the door above Rohan’s head, words
tumbling out of his mouth in a hurry as he kept the door propped open.
Sneering, Rohan would have slapped Josuke’s fingers off but the teenager was so
tall that his perched hands were out of Rohan’s batting range.
“Ack—sorry, I swear ’m not here to piss ya off. I know ya got deadlines and
stuff coming up so I’ll make it quick. I came with a deal to make! Please, hear
me out.”
The teenager leaned down towards the sliver of the door where he could see
Rohan’s irritated scowl as the manga artist tried to retreat back into the
darkness of his shuttered house, practically hissing. Josuke pushed his thick
lips into a pout, the screen door shuddering between their firm, white-knuckled
grips, and Rohan tiredly relented by loosening his hands off the door. He was
too tired to be playing tug of war with an oversized puppy child anyway.
With the heel of his palm pressed against his throbbing eyes, he motioned with
his other hand for Josuke to go on with his “deal,” then.
“Okay, so um—I heard ya gave Koichi-kun some spending money for the summer—“
“Of course I did—what is it to you?” snapped Rohan, anger flaring up at the
mention of his Best Friend Koichi who he pulled out his wallet for the second
he heard that Koichi was looking for a summer job. A summer job would mean that
he would see Koichi less, and Rohan would not allow it. Unfortunately, Koichi
didn’t accept the fistful of cash that Rohan procured from his wallet, and had
scurried back home before Rohan could stuff it into his schoolbag. He
tsked—that was two nights ago after he and Koichi had finished a reference
photography date at the local mall. Why did Koichi feel the need to talk to
other people, especially Josuke? Really, Rohan was the only friend Koichi
needed.
Sheepishly, Josuke scrubbed the back of his sweaty neck and straightened up
with a crooked smile.
“Well, I was thiiiinking that since you presuuuumably have some extra money
lyin' around—“
“I’m not going to sponsor you and your uncouth group of hoodlums’ dumb, teenage
antics.”
Josuke flailed and grabbed the door again before Rohan could slam it properly.
“Wait, lemme finish! I don’t want yer handouts—I wanna work for you!” the air
around them crackled and sparked as Josuke called out his stand. Crazy Diamond
appeared in a flurry of pink, blue, and purple, then hovered silently—large
eyes imploring—over Josuke’s shoulder. “I can fix stuff fer you—look, I noticed
ya slam yer door so much that the hinge is loose up top over here.” To prove
his point, Josuke reached over—Rohan felt a vein in his temple bulge as he
swallowed a pang of disgust and jealousy for Josuke’s blessed height and
physique as the sinew in Josuke’s bicep flexed with the movement—and peeled the
hinge nearly completely off the door frame with a fingernail. “This is why yer
screen door has been rattling so much, yeah?”
Rohan raised a groomed brow, tapping his foot impatiently.
With a flash of light and a brief “Dora!!!” the hinge was quickly repaired.
Josuke stepped back and let the screendoor smoothly fall shut—no rattling.
“See? All good—now you can slam yer door in my face-- with style,” he laughed
while hooking a thumbs up towards his chest, proud of himself both for the
repair and also for the joke. Giving the door a few cautious nudges, the manga
artist frowned deeper despite finding that yes, the door was as good as new.
This was a practical application of Josuke’s frankly ridiculously overpowered
Stand abilities, but at what cost would Rohan have to pay for this Stand by
Demand service?
Josuke squirmed in place at the silence.
“Soooo I was thinking that since, yanno, ye really busy and all with yer
manga things—and progress on repairing yer house since the uh,” Josuke paused,
realizing that he was edging really close to a major landmine. He steeled
himself and carefully whispered, “fire.” Rohan’s expression darkened
immediately. Scrubbing his arms, Josuke continued, laughing awkwardly, “P-
progress on repairing yer house has been slow, right? So I could go around and
do what I can with Crazy Diamond—which I could probably do a hell of a lot
faster than a contractor! Plus, ’m sure I can find other things to help fix up
fer ya too. Ya won't even notice me! I'll be outside, so you can draw in peace,
sensei.”
Rohan considered this—the fire was definitely, somehow Josuke’s fault, so it
would be actually somewhat cathartic for him to have the teen put in some hard
labor to fix the damage from it. Also, since he was a one-man manga production
team, he plainly didn’t have the time to follow-up with the contractor on
completing his house’s repairs. He was unable to draw peacefully with the
repair crew busily fixing up his home, so after they had finished rebuilding
the more life-threatening portions to restore the scorched structure into a
house-like shell and remove the toxicity from the smoke damage, Rohan hadn’t
scheduled more repairs with the contractor.
It would be one less thing for him to have to worry about if the house was
finally repaired—plus, maybe Koichi would actually stay over for once if the
mansion felt more livable.
“Fine—but this better be at a steep discount.”
Lighting up, Josuke practically salivated thinking about the purple leather
shoes with gold trimmings that inspired him to muster up the moxie to
proposition Rohan. Soon, they could be added to his collection...
“Yeah! Of course—er, how about, hmmm, 70% of what the contractor woulda cost
ya?”
“No—you’re using Crazy Diamond, so you’re already making this way easier than
it would be for them. There’s no reason to pay you that much. I’ll give you
40%.” Leaning back into his house, Rohan checked the kitchen clock he could see
from the entrance hall—he really needed to get back to work soon, and all this
talking through the screendoor was letting the cold air loose.
“Aw what? 40 is an unlucky number! 60%!”
“Considering you were the one who burned down my house—“
“Y-you can’t prove that! I didn’t do anything to set yer house on fire, I
swear.”
“—You’d think that you would be a little more modest on how much to charge.”
Pouting again, Josuke looked down and considered his options.
“55% then—but I want free reign of your kitchen fer refreshments and snacks!
It’s fuckin' balls hot out here.”
Well, his kitchen wasn’t that well-stocked to begin with—so it wouldn’t be much
of a loss to allow Josuke to finish off whatever he could find lingering in the
pantry or fridge.
“Fine, but you can only come in through the kitchen’s door from the back yard—I
don’t want you tracking dirt through the entire house. I’ll meet you over there
in a moment.”
After locking the front door, Rohan stopped by the kitchen to unlock the back
door leading to the yard and then went to his study to find the quotes from the
contractors. It was right where he left it a few weeks ago—he really hadn’t
even begun to think about getting the rest of the repairs started. Flipping
through the printouts as he walked, he found Josuke on a stool by the kitchen
island, chewing ice from a now empty glass. Finally in the muted indoor
lighting, Rohan realized that Josuke was dressed down—instead of his usual
tacky but expensive attire, he was instead in a white t-shirt, oversized grey
jogging pants, and practical sneakers.
Pulling up a second kitchen stool, Rohan set the papers down as Josuke leaned
in to look at the quote. “Careful,” scolded Rohan as he yanked the papers away,
grimacing—Josuke’s sweat dripped onto the tiled island, barely missing the edge
of the printouts.
“’s hot,” Josuke mumbled woefully around a mouthful of ice.
“Yes, you’ve said that many times. Okay, so here’s the quote on what still
needs to be done.”
They outlined the remaining external repairs—the roof was the most pressing
issue. While it had been patched professionally, the recovered shingles that
survived the fire were still stacked on a tarp in the backyard. Rohan hadn’t
deemed it a high enough priority to get them back onto the roof yet—he wasn’t
particularly worried unless it was going to rain or snow within the immediate
weeks. Then after that, there were less major but aesthetically important
renovations—restoring the external paint (either by cleaning or repainting),
replacing charred portions of the front yard’s porch where the damned dice game
had taken place, and so on and on. When he finished highlighting each line and
calculating Josuke’s cut, he looked up and saw the teen smiling greedily.
“You came dressed to work—so that means you would have said yes even if I
haggled more,” observed Rohan as he motioned at Josuke’s simple attire with the
highlighter, snapping the teen out of his money-induced stupor. Caught red-
handed, Josuke spun the stool he was on while shrugging with another crooked
smile.
“Don’t do that—it’s giving me a headache,” pleaded Rohan, staying the stool
with one hand and sticking out the other. With a firm handshake, Rohan laid
down the ground rules—to try to keep the “dora dora” bellows to a minimum so
that he could work without distraction, and to keep their arrangement a secret.
He didn’t need more bored teenagers looking to make some summer spending money
showing up at his house.
“Shut the door properly too or else the AC will overwork itself,” he called out
from his second-story study to Josuke, who was poking around at the pile of
shingles in the backyard. His drawing desk faced three large, tall windows that
overlooked the street in front of his house, while the bay windows to the right
of his workspace allowed him a clear view of the entirety of his backyard.
Josuke looked up through cupped hands to shield his eyes from the sun and then
yelled back at him with a huff, “I won’t! I want it to be cold when I come in
fer breaks too, yanno!” He stuck up one hand towards Rohan’s window with yet
another thumbs up, then crouched back down to think of how he could use Crazy
Diamond to get the shingles back onto the roof of Rohan’s massive, three story
house. Rohan tugged his window tightly shut and then closed the horizontal
blinds to keep out the blistering sun.
 
--
 
Blessedly, Rohan didn’t hear from Josuke again till much later.
“Rohan-sensei!!” hollered the teen—Rohan had kept the door to his study open to
let the air conditioning circulate through his house, so the volume of Josuke’s
deep voice was, well, excessive. His head throbbed again, but he steadied
himself and continued drawing. If only Koichi would let him use him as
inspiration again—he could draw so much faster when invigorated from stealing
pages using Heaven’s Door. Didn’t Koichi admire him for being a great manga
artist? By taking pages out of Koichi’s life—he was becoming an even better
manga artist.
Unfortunately, Koichi didn’t agree. He had to promise that he wouldn’t siphon
Koichi’s life out of him for his manga anymore—pinky swore over it, in fact—or
else Koichi would report him to the police for stalking and blackmail. At least
he could prove to Koichi how important their friendship was to him by resisting
the temptation to steal pages out of people’s lives for manga. He smiled,
giving himself a mental pat on the back for his own fortitude. The more manga
he completed without "cheating," the better of a friend he was to Koichi! Alone
in his study, Rohan nodded to himself with great self-satisfaction.
Whatever it was that Josuke wanted, it would need to wait—Rohan’s eyes glanced
at his desk clock. It was a little after 1 in the afternoon. The manuscripts
were due tomorrow, and he could scan and fax them from his home before his
editor came into the office around 5AM in the morning in Tokyo.
The muffled but heavy foot falls of someone practically bounding up the stairs
stayed his drawing hand. Breathing through his nose, Rohan felt the hairs on
the back of his neck stand up—he could feel Josuke standing behind him
expectantly. Penciling in a note for his editor about the very pivotal
abduction scene for the ongoing, thrilling homicide case in Pink Dark Boy,
Rohan set his pencil down into his box of drawing implements.
He leaned back in his chair and immediately glanced down at the boy’s
feet—good, he had taken his dirty shoes off and was in his clean socks.
“I tried t' make some lunch from what I could find,” chirped Josuke as he held
out a glass of lemonade and a cup of spicy instant noodles. He had stuck a
plastic fork into the paper lid to hold it down. Josuke’s damp t-shirt was
knotted at his waist, exposing his abs and the cut of his hips above the low
waistband of his oversized sweats. His hair product had lost its holding power
over the past few sweaty hours, so his pompadour had drooped enough to force
Josuke to bunch his long bangs into a ponytail on the top of his head with a
hair elastic. He looked incredibly pleased with himself again, and Rohan
wondered what it was about Josuke’s crooked smile that reflexively made his
stomach curl with angry heat. Something about the teen always seemed to put
Rohan off.
Where did Josuke even find lemons? Wait, Rohan mentally took inventory of what
he could remember being in his kitchen, and asked suspiciously, “Is that the
powdered lemonade mix? I think that was here before I even moved in.”
Josuke nodded as the ice cubes clinked against the inside of the glass
temptingly.
“Yeah. It looked kind of old, but it won’t expire for a few more weeks? Yer
still cuttin' it pretty damn close though!” he remarked as he set the two items
down on the metal materials cart with drawers of tools by Rohan’s right hand.
“The instant noodles, though, prob' could last a couple of decades before
expiring. You can eat them in a minute or two—depends on if you like the
noodles firm or soggy. There’s a surprise insiiide!” He sung brightly, hands
propped on his exposed hips.
Without another word, Josuke turned on his heels and happily made his way back
down the stairs.
Rohan hesitated with the glass of icy cold lemonade at his lips, but succumbed
to the crisp air he could feel over his hovering lips and took a sip. It tasted
fine. He took a larger gulp as he regarded the instant noodles—he knew that the
spicy noodles were nowhere close to expiring as he had purchased another pack
of them recently. They were his go-to food during crunch time. What worried him
was the “surprise” Josuke mentioned.
“Hey Rohan!!!”
“Josuke, I can hear you fine so please take it down a notch.” He prodded the
fork jammed into the paper lid.
“Oh—oops. Ahem. There’s more lemonade down here if ya want some. I already ate,
so I’m going back outside now!”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Yeah!”
The backdoor closed again, and Rohan stood up and dragged a finger down a blind
to see Josuke heading out to the yard. The teen was swinging his arms with
excessive enthusiasm. It reminded him of one of the neighborhood kids who would
wildly windmill down the block on his way to daycare.
Seated back at his desk again, he glanced at his clock and back at the noodles.
He preferred them a bit soggy, but he was unsettled by the prospect of a
surprise in his instant noodles from Josuke Higashikata. The styrofoam of the
instant noodle cup squeaked as he wriggled the plastic fork out. Rohan peeled
back the paper lid and snorted.
The surprise was just two pieces of corn and a half circle-shaped piece of fish
cake arranged onto the top of the cylinder of spicy instant noodles to look
vaguely like a smiley face.
Childish.
Rohan ate in silence, then went back to work.
 
--
 
“You didn’t get more lemonade,” stated Josuke around 3:30PM. He was holding the
diluted solution in a jug, the ice having melted long ago.
Once again, Rohan didn’t look up immediately—he worried about the proposed
positioning of the dialogue boxes for the large two-page spread in front of
him. He had to make sure the words flowed across the page in a way that
followed the action, but in such a wide panel it could be difficult to ensure
that the reader’s eyes would be led properly for optimal storytelling. He
erased one of the lightly sketched in characters and revised their position to
better frame the dialogue.
“Here, I’ll just top ya off and leave the jug while I’m here then.” Josuke
refilled the drained glass on the metal cart, then tossed the empty instant
noodle cup with the fork and crumpled paper lid into the trashcan by the
artist’s desk. After Rohan finished the detailed manuscript, he would need to
tie up the trash and throw it out—the empty instant noodle cup was starting to
stink up the room from the remnants of the sour, salty soup.
“Why are you in my drawing room again, Josuke?”
“Oh—’m done with outside.”
Rohan blindly reached for the glass and finished off the room temperature
lemonade in one swig. After he set it back down, Josuke topped it off again and
set the jug of lemonade next to the refilled glass. Rohan picked up a page that
he had started earlier but had set aside when he felt too overwhelmed to finish
sketching in the various buildings that made up the wide shot of the crime
scene.
“Didja get up at all since lunch?” asked the nosy teenager.
“I didn’t get up for lunch either.”
“Huh. Izzat healthy?" Josuke lingered over his shoulder, watching him work.
The hairs stood up on the back of Rohan's neck again.
Rohan threw up his arms to stretch—forcing Josuke to quickly step back to dodge
the artist’s pale arms—and blinked multiple times to refocus his eyes that had
been trained onto the pages in front of him for hours. It took a while for him
to rewet his eyes properly.
“If you want to get paid,” he started as he cracked his neck and shook out his
arms, “I’d like to ask you to kindly wait till after I completely finish this
manuscript so that I can properly confirm your repairs. If you need something
upfront for now, I’ll be at a good place to stop in a few pages after I finish
my final once-over for this scene—then I can give you some portion of the money
for your troubles.”
There was no time to stop working. Now that he was on a monthly schedule, he
had to produce more pages per release than before—this changed the pacing of
his manga tremendously, and while it wasn’t an issue for the Great Manga Artist
Rohan Kishibe, it was still a departure from the way he had been producing the
manga for years. With more content came more editing, and while he had a good
enough relationship with his editor that he could predict some of his editor’s
typical suggestions, each revision had a ripple effect. For instance, if after
reading a segment later in the story to find that the set-up was insufficient,
Rohan would not only have to redraw the set-up but also some of the immediate
aftermath to ensure that the pacing of the revised material made sense.
“Well, I was actually going t' tell you that I noticed earlier that not all of
your burners light up—I had to try all of them before I could find the one
stinking working burner so that I could boil water fer the noodles.”
The study room was quiet again, save for Rohan shuffling another page to the
side so that he could inspect the page after it. The manuscript still didn’t
feel right—it wasn’t meeting his mental expectations for impact, drama, and
surprise. He pulled his notepad closer to him to scribble down some notes for
himself:
 
    * Get more reference of the train station next time in town
    * Get burners looked at
    * Throw out the trash ASAP
 
It’s true that beyond the damages the house sustained from the fire, there was
still house maintenance that he knew he should eventually attend to—he had been
using the remaining functional burner exclusively since before the fire
happened, as the other burners were already broken when he moved in. It wasn’t
laziness that prevented him from getting the rest of the burners fixed—it was,
once again, simply a matter of finding the time to get the burners assessed,
quoted, repaired, and then inspected. He was a busy man—not only did he meet
all of his deadlines as a manga artist, which included more than just drawing
his manga but also answering fanmail, doing special illustrations, proofing
side projects, and granting interviews, but he also helped capture a serial
killer with no help from Josuke and the Gang of Dumb Teenagers (except for Best
Friend Koichi).
To make a bad pun, there truly were a lot of tasks piling up on the back
burner.
“So since ’m already here and done with outside, I figured I could see what I
could do inside with Crazy Diamond—and not just in the kitchen. The rest of the
house too, if... that's alright.”
Without skipping a beat, Rohan replied, “Fine, go ahead. But you’ll need to
write down what you work on—I don’t have a list or anything for you this time,
and I’ll need to probably guesstimate the repair costs for those other things.”
'Why not?' he thought—it would benefit him the same way Josuke fixing the
outside of his house did. Plus, he really wasn’t in a good place to stop—the
sun was starting to set, and he still had a quarter of the story left to detail
now that he had finished blocking, rewriting, and reordering.
“Really?” The artist still hadn’t looked up, but he could hear the delight in
Josuke’s cracking voice.
“Yes. Take this,” Rohan patted blindly at the metal materials cart before
dragging it closer to himself, and then retrieved a new notepad from one of the
drawers. He dug around his drawing implement box for a normal ballpoint pen by
touch—all the while he had three pages clutched in his left hand that he reread
over and over for consistency. Holding up the notepad and ballpoint pen over
his right shoulder, he impatiently flapped the items until Josuke took them out
of his hands.
“Cool—thanks, I really super appreciate you lettin' me do this, Rohan-sensei!
Here’s the old list then.”
Rohan hummed emptily as he pulled out a large ruler from his materials cart,
barely registering the crackly, worn-down printouts placed onto his desk.
Wait, what the—
“Have you been keeping the quote on you? It looks like it’s been twisted up in
your back pocket all day after being refolded a million times over.” Rohan sat
up suddenly, plucking up the crinkly quote by a wrinkled corner and grimacing.
The highlighter ink had run in some places—how soaked did this thing get? And
with what? Sweat?! He dropped the paper immediately away from his desk and onto
the metallic surface of the materials cart, fingers twitching.
“Yeah—I was using it as a reference earlier t' make sure I got everything ya
wanted done.”
“I, see,” Rohan forced out slowly, thinking that it’s good that the now
disgusting, warped quote was a copy of the originals that the contractor had
provided him. The actual, original, irreplaceable quote was put away properly
in his file cabinet, safe from the moist palms of a teenager doing physical
work on a steaming hot summer day. He remembered again the damp t-shirt knotted
around Josuke’s waist (and his shiny, sweaty abs), and turned around in his
chair to regard Josuke.
“Wow, now you look like crap.”
Josuke’s socked feet were, surprisingly, fairly immaculate after a day's
work—meaning he had been vigilant about keeping his shoes on when outside and
removing them when inside. The rest of him wasn’t in quite as good of shape. To
his credit, Rohan knew that Josuke liked to keep a tidy, physical appearance—in
fact, he was quite particular about not only being fashionable (whatever that
meant) but also did not like getting dirty. Good intentions aside, there was
little he could do about picking up grime after having spent most of the hot
day either in the yard or on top of Rohan’s roof, sweating. The pit stains on
his t-shirt made Rohan shudder, and while Josuke had tried to pat any dirt off
of himself and also washed his hands with the hose before coming indoors, he
still had grass stains on his knees and other dark, questionable blobs of color
on his pants from squatting and crawling to do repairs in tight spots due to
the short range of Crazy Diamond.
“Well, whaddaya expect?” defended Josuke with a pout, crossing his arms to hide
his pit stains after Rohan recoiled at what he now finally recognized as
Josuke’s salty, sour body odor. It wasn’t the spicy instant noodles that he had
been smelling, he thought weakly.
“Okay, new rule—please kindly shower before you work inside the house.” Despite
his polite choice of words, Rohan brought a hand up to his nose.
Offended, Josuke snorted, “Man, seriously? I don’t have a change of clothes,
anyway.”
“Ugh, okay—in the guest room on the first floor there’s a set of drawers. You
can borrow whatever you find there, just please either wash up or go home.”
Rohan now had his sleeve over the lower half of his face.
Rolling his eyes, Josuke shuffled to the first floor guest room and scoffed
when he heard Rohan gag dramatically upstairs.
***** Chapter 2 *****
Chapter Notes
     I rewrote the first chapter already, haha. Anyway, here's the second.
     Thank you for the kudos and comments! It's super encouraging since I
     haven't written in so long. :,D I appreciate all of it!
Josuke’s day had been going great—not only had Rohan accepted his business
proposition, but the amount of money he would be making was far more than he
could have possibly predicted. Honestly, he originally had set out to get a
pair of shoes—but when Rohan had flipped the highlighted quote back to him in
the kitchen that morning, Josuke had a religious experience when he shakily
comprehended the circled total.
Forget just one pair of shoes—he could get an entire outfit, or a nice bag, or—
His head had swum with possibilities throughout the day, his mental shopping
list growing as he alternated with Crazy Diamond to hoist the shingles up, up,
up to the rooftop.
The hours had flown by, and the fatigue had never set in—there had been more
than just a spring to his step. Josuke had giggled deliriously, languidly
hugging the ladder propped against the side of Rohan’s house as Crazy Diamond
punched the twisted gutters back into place, daydreaming about how sick he’d
look if he could get his new wardrobe tailored too.
After struggling with the burners over lunch, Josuke had realized that he could
expand his paycheck if he could convince Rohan to let him do more than just the
exterior of the house. He had noticed while rummaging through the kitchen for
food that there was room for improvement everywhere—rusty hinges, stuck
drawers, leaky pipes, and anything else that performed even slightly below
expectation was a potential target for fixing. The house was gorgeous—but old.
In a way, it was a shame—Rohan lived in such a nice mansion! Surely he wouldn’t
object to Josuke graciously taking on some more work to (fatten his paycheck)
improve Rohan’s quality of life? Rohan was practically a shut-in, so he might
as shut himself in in comfort. Yeah, that had made perfect sense. Josuke then
had arranged the surprise in the instant noodles for Rohan with glee, excited
at his growing future financial prospects.
He was going to be super fucking rich after he finished with the manga artist.
Nice, nice!
Now, hours later, that wasn’t quite how Josuke felt anymore. Gently towel
drying his hair, Josuke stood in the steamy guest restroom feeling like crap
for all the bullshit he let himself think earlier to justify his selfish
actions.
He slumped in front of the foggy mirror in front of him and dragged his hands
down his face, groaning.
Josuke was a good kid, which meant he had a conscience.
He hated having a conscience sometimes.
Leaning forward with the towel falling onto his shoulders, the teenager let his
head loll between his shoulders as he planted his elbows onto the wet bathroom
countertop. He hated that he foolishly not only noticed but also connected the
dots between a number of very specific details about Rohan’s life in the past
half hour. He hated that the only conclusion he could draw from everything he
saw led him to rapidly spiral into feeling like a total jerk for
opportunistically taking advantage of Rohan’s financial stability so that he
could get a stupid pair of shoes.
First, the guest room on the first floor clearly had never been slept in.
Everything in the room was new—in fact, the bedding was still wrapped up in its
clear plastic holder, unopened, on top of the bed. At first, Josuke had figured
that maybe the bare, unused room had just been remodeled after the fire and
thus hadn't been christened with use yet—but wait, the fire had mostly consumed
the other side of the house and had eaten away at the upper levels as the heat
rose.
Shit.
Second, the guest room’s dresser—Josuke wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but
it definitely wasn’t outfit after unworn outfit, tags still attached, in
unmistakably Koichi’s size. His first reaction had been to shut the drawers—he
felt like he had seen something he shouldn’t have seen. The rest of the drawers
were empty, save for some miscellaneous, Koichi-related items rattling around
in them. Eventually, defeated, Josuke had dug around until he found two items
that would probably fit. He had experimentally tugged on a stretchy tank top
with a tasteless, childish design to test its elasticity—it would be a bit
short, but not as short as the crop tops Rohan regularly wore.
The second item was a soft, fuzzy pajama bottom that would have loosely fit
Koichi—it would probably fit like a fluffy bloomer over Josuke’s long legs, but
it was the only thing he could find that wouldn’t stretch scandalously across
his naked lower half. The fuzzy fabric would obscure the shape of his junk and
butt. The matching top was out of the question. He had placed the fluffy pajama
top back into the drawer where it belonged—the piles of Koichi’s unworn
(rejected?) gifts from Rohan.
Fuck.
There was a theme, clearly. Josuke had started to feel a deeper, more faceted
sadness than just being glum as he sputtered curses wetly in the shower. He had
been struggling with wrestling the top off an unopened bottle of quite nice
shampoo. These stupid, locking pump bottles were such a pain in the ass to open
the first time around, fumed Josuke. Inverting the shampoo bottle, Josuke gave
it a few hard shakes—nearly flinging the wet bottle out of his hands—until the
pump finally dislodged from the twisted shampoo cap and popped up. He had to
repeat this slippery song and dance in the shower twice more—for the
conditioner and the body wash.
God.
Rohan didn’t have guests.
Rohan didn’t have friends.
Did Rohan even have family?
Josuke’s face darkened in the foggy mirror. Abruptly, he gripped the edges of
the towel across his shoulders and straightened up, chastising himself again.
He had no right to make even more assumptions about Rohan. In fact, he had no
right to be poking his head into Rohan’s personal business—Rohan Kishibe, the
Great, Famous (Sad) Manga Artist and his Great, Famous (Sad) Life. Fuck.
Disengage, he silently willed to himself—disengage, and just treat him as Rohan
(not a sucker to profit from, not a lonely man to be pitied). He’s Rohan the
person. Specifically, Rohan, the person who was upstairs right now, struggling
to catch up on weeks of work that he had put off to help Reimi find closure.
Josuke felt better now—not great, and not far off from shit, but better.
He flushed pink when he pulled on the pajama bottoms and turned around in the
mirror—it was tighter than he expected, but the coverage was adequate. They
definitely looked more like bloomers on him than a pair of relaxed pajama
shorts. The elastic at the bottom of the pajama leg stretched around his
thighs, and the fluffy fabric across his bottom followed the curve of his butt
a bit too faithfully. Shrugging on the tasteless yellow tank top—it ended
shortly above his belly button, but the cut of it wasn’t unflattering at
least—Josuke smoothed his damp hair back against his head and bundled up his
dirty clothes under his arm with his notepad and pen.
“Ack,” he gathered up his boxer briefs that he had dropped onto the moist floor
and twisted them into a tight ball. Josuke shoved them into the center of his
smelly clothing bundle where his socks were also tucked away.
The steam billowed out of the guest bathroom, curling thickly around him when
the cool air of the hallway chillingly greeted him outside the bathroom door.
What next, then?
Josuke shimmied in place, tugging the back of the shorts down to cover his bare
legs a little more.
 
--
 
It was 7:32PM.
He had finished the entire jug of lemonade, and naturally was dealing with the
consequences. Rohan got up for the first time since he had yelled at Josuke
that morning through the screen door and stumbled—his leg was asleep. Gruffly,
the artist winced as he gave it a few punches to force circulation back into
the defiant leg, and then hobbled towards his bathroom through the master
bedroom. The lights were on in his bedroom, and Rohan yawned at them. His walk-
in closet door was opened, and he “hmmed” when a muffled voice called out to
him from inside of it (“Rohan, are ya here? Didja know that you have sooo many
fucking clothes that your closet pole broke?”). He dragged his tingling leg
with him to the restroom and shut the bathroom door.
When he emerged briefly after, Rohan was dabbing his face with a clean towel
after splashing cold water onto it. He was so close to finishing his work—all
that was left was fixing the perspective on a number of establishing shots, and
he could scan and fax the manuscript to his publishing company from the comfort
of his drawing room. Bless technology.
“Didja hear me? You have too many clothes—even though I fixed the broken pole,
it’ll probably break again if ya don’t move some of yer outfits out. There’s a
lot of space in the guest room dresser—move some of your stuff there or
somethin'! Hey, are you listening or not? Helloooo!”
Josuke had his hair in a ponytail on top of his head again to keep it out of
his face when he worked, and the rest of his get-up was completely ridiculous.
Koichi would have definitely looked better than Josuke in that outfit, but
Koichi vehemently refused to wear the yellow tank top with Tweetie Bird on it.
The yellow bird’s disproportionately large head had reminded Rohan of his dear
Bestie. The top was comically undersized on the tall teenager—Tweetie’s face
was drawn into a vaguely flat, distorted shape, and the tank top looked like a
crop top over Josuke’s lean, lanky body. Crop tops didn’t suit Josuke, thought
Rohan with a tinge of smugness. After all, crop tops were Rohan’s Thing.
What was Josuke’s fashion Thing? Baggy, unflattering potato sacks pants. Rohan
laughed lightly to himself. Yes, that’s exactly what Josuke’s tacky wardrobe
was. High five to himself for that moment of brilliance.
Then Rohan’s eyes blearily traced down Josuke’s lower half—the irritatingly
energetic teen had ducked back into his closet after screaming an obscenity in
reaction to the closet pole predictably collapsing again shortly after his
warnings to Rohan.
The pajama shorts didn’t look too bad, considering Josuke usually covered up
his thick thighs and butt with potato sack pants—was it good though? Eh,
whatever. Didn’t care right now, thought Rohan as he yawned again. He hadn’t
slept since yesterday morning, and thus was already past being awake for 24
hours—the sore, aching fatigue was rapidly settling into his abused body.
“Are you cleaning my house or fixing it?” flatly asked the listless manga
artist as he shuffled back to his work room. He didn't bother to wait for
Josuke to reply—the teen was creating what looked like a nest of Rohan's
crumbled clothes that had tumbled off the broken closet pole. Rohan’s leg was
no longer asleep, but he dragged his feet anyway—he was so fucking tired. There
was no bite left in him—all he wanted to do was be finished with his work.
Mechanically, he dragged a long finger across a number of books in one of his
work room’s many packed shelves, and pulled three albums out on his slow,
arduous journey back to his drawing desk.
Eyes closed, Rohan settled into his chair and thumbed open to a page by feel
while his jaw fell open—another big yawn shook through him.
“Hwahhhhh…”
Reluctantly, he cracked opened his eyes and spread out the opened albums in
front of him. The albums contained his reference photos—pasted and taped into
the pages, with handwritten notes (date, time, location of photo) surrounding
the glossy pictures. He scanned across the page until he found a photo of an
ominous looking clock tower he encountered while studying art in Europe many
years ago, and bleakly pulled towards himself one of the last manuscript pages
that needed a proper background.
He dozed as he drew, glancing belatedly between his reference and the panel.
The clock ticked.
Time passed.
“I’m going home now, Rohan.”
Rohan looked at the digital clock and the numbers swam in front of him.
8:
29PM?                                                                                                                                             
“Mm.”
He looked back at the clock tower he roughed—he accidentally drew the hands to
say 8:29PM. Rohan slapped his hand vaguely around his table for an eraser,
glaring at his mistake. 8:29PM was not a scary time—it needed to be midnight,
the Witching Hour, in this scene.
“There’s some dinner downstairs—it’s in the microwave to stay warm, but make
sure to eat it tonight.”
“Okay.”
“I’m not done yet, so I’ll come back tomorrow to finish, 'k?”
“Yeah.”
A pause. Rohan’s eyes stared glassily at the page ahead of him as he slowly
rubbed the eraser around to gently remove the incorrect clock hands. Suddenly,
he stopped moving—his eraser still pressed between his thumb and index finger
on top of the page. Josuke leaned forward expectantly.
“Josuke, don’t forget to bring Koichi-kun’s clothes back.”
Another pause.
“Yeah, I won’t.”
 
--
 
It was 11:44PM when Rohan finally, thankfully finished his manuscripts.
He was done, for now. Thank god, he sighed, as he weakly hoisted himself out of
his chair. The large manuscripts were ready to be scanned and faxed. Arranging
them carefully into a neat pile, he placed the stack of originals into the
opening of the scanner and pressed “Go.” The preloaded settings would resize
the large manuscript pages into a faxable size. His eyes drifted aimlessly as
he listened to the familiar ker-chunk, ker-chunk of the pages being scanned,
processed, and printed.
It would be a while yet before it was done—Rohan rubbed at his empty stomach
when he heard it gurgle sadly.
Did he have enough energy left to go downstairs for instant noodles, and then
come back up?
No, he didn’t. So he stayed, absently listening to the rhythmic, mechanical
sounds of his scanner and the rumble of his starved body.
He woke up with a start—had he fallen asleep while standing? What time was it
now? Midnght—ah, the Witching Hour, how suiting. The room was so quiet again—oh
yeah, that meant the scanner was done.
Rohan shoved his original manuscripts into a manila folder out of habit, then
set the stack of resized pages into the loading slot of the fax machine. The
sequence of buttons he pressed to send the documents to Tokyo were long worn
out on the machine.
Beep, beep, send.
Nothing.
Maybe he missed a button.
Beep, beep, send.
Nothing again.
Instant panic—Rohan leapt forward, grabbing the fax machine by its sides to
gaze in horror with bloodshot eyes at the small, digital letters across its
one-line screen:
“Error,” followed by many repeating, gibberish characters.
Fuck.
Fuck.
“FUCK.”
***** Chapter 3 *****
Chapter Notes
     I first posted this around 4AM on 2/14/16 and then I rewrote a couple
     of parts of it today at 1AM 2/15/16. Happy Valentines Day!
"You're so, so, soooo lucky that my mom is out tonight-- I don't know how I
would have explained to her that I know and hang around the local town
celebrity, professional manga artist Rohan Kishibe.” Shrugging off his thick
coat, Josuke rubbed the feeling back into his cold, red nose as he stepped back
into Rohan’s house. It had been hot all day, but now past midnight it was quite
chilly. The artist-- after unlocking the front door-- stood at the top of his
stairs, impatiently.
 
“Tell her that I’m Koichi-kun’s best friend. It’s the truth.” He stated curtly
as he speed walked back to his work room.
 
Softly, Josuke relented to the silent entrance hall. “Okay, next time I’ll say
that.” With a sigh, the teen decided to steer clear of trying to talk about
Rohan’s complete lack of self-awareness tonight. It was almost 1AM-- he had
been annoyed out of his warm, comfortable bed when his house phone had rung
nonstop. It was funny in a way-- it echoed him annoying Rohan out of his
drawing room earlier that morning, though he hadn’t known it was Rohan
desperately trying to get hold of him when he flipped his pillow onto his head
in bed. The sunburned, overworked teen’s poor, aching body had been screaming
when Josuke had finally peeled himself off the mattress and shuffled to the
hallway phone closest to his room.
 
The faint green light of the phone’s screen displayed “Caller ID: Unknown”-
- had he received an unknown phone call in the dead of the night a few months
earlier when he was thick into the Kira investigation, he would have been
immediately on alert before picking up the phone. In fact, he may had foregone
picking the phone up at all-- the safer choice would had been to find his dad
to use Hermit Purple to trace the caller.
 
However, that was before. His dad was back in the United States. Kira was gone.
Everything was, well, normal (sort of) again.
 
So instead, he had hazily fumbled the phone before he sleepily held it roughly
around ear level to mumble into the receiver.
 
“Hullo?”
 
“Josuke. It’s me.
 
“Rohan? How didja get this number?”
 
“Koichi-kun-- I called him before I called you. Anyway, I need you to come fix
my fax machine right now. It’s urgent. I’ll pay you for it-- there’s no time to
discuss how much, but I promise you I will. Come right now.”
 
The brisk walk back to Rohan’s house had actually been more pleasant than it
had been earlier that evening. That time just a few short hours prior, Josuke
had jogged back home with his dirty clothes layered on top of the borrowed
clothes in the sticky summer evening. He hadn’t wanted anyone in their
corresponding neighborhoods to see him in the undersized clothing-- especially
his overly imaginative mom. It was a relief to find that she was going to be
out for some kind of teacher's retreat for the next few days and had left him a
note with a few crisp bills underneath an overturned cup in the kitchen.
 
Josuke folded his thick coat over his arm and scrambled up the stairs after the
stressed manga artist.
 
“This-- it’s not working. I don’t know why. It’ll be faster to have you fix it
than to try to troubleshoot it over the phone with the manufacturer. I need it
now-- the manuscript is due before my editor gets in, and he gets in before the
post office opens today.” With long, gliding steps, Rohan strode anxiously
across his work room directly to the fax machine in the corner. Josuke threw
his coat onto the couch and stretched in preparation of calling out his stand.
 
“Post office?”
 
“They’re the only place in town that has a business fax machine available-
- they don’t open till 8AM. Editor comes in at 5AM. Could you…?” The manga
artist motioned earnestly, practically vibrating in place as Josuke examined
the malfunctioning machine carefully. The color was clearly drained from
Rohan's thin face-- surprising, considering his usual pallor from being indoors
most of the time.
 
“Yeah, alright.”
 
“Dora!!!!” Crazy Diamond’s speed wasn’t nearly as fast as Star Platinum’s, but
Josuke’s stand was still pretty damn fast. The sounds of the fax machine being
rapidly destroyed and put back together was inaudible to non-stand users. Even
a seasoned stand user such as Rohan could barely hear the mechanical cacophony
of the fax machine being punched to dust before being assembled like new-- but
what Rohan managed to hear was comforting enough.
 
Before Josuke finished triumphantly declaring the machine fixed, Rohan eagerly
pushed past him. The artists's exhaustion was replaced with the adrenaline from
the fax machine crisis, and he quickly pressed a number of buttons in a well-
practiced sequence. With that in place, the artist carefully removed a few
pages of his manuscript from a folder and placed them into the machine’s feed
slot. With one final tap (and a silent prayer), the machine stirred noisily to
life and started to slowly process the pages. It was only after the fax
machine’s menu flashed a transmission status that both Josuke-- who was peering
over the shorter man’s body hunched over the grey-colored machine-- and Rohan
let out a held breath.
 
Distractedly, Rohan fed in a new page to the stack and plainly said, “Okay,
thanks.” With the rest of the pages in his grip, Rohan stood attentively at the
machine, ready to add in more pages at the same rate as the fax machine
processed pages.
 
Click, click, click -- a long pause, then-- whirr.Systematically, Rohan fed
another page in. He was clearly practiced in this procedure.
 
Recognizing that the artist’s attention was fully consumed with ensuring the
safety of his work being properly sent off to Tokyo, Josuke slowly, sleepily
shrugged back on his coat and walked out of the work room, pausing only to
advise, “...Don’t forget to get some sleep too.”
 
Rohan didn’t say anything-- Josuke stopped again, frowning, as he made his way
from the bottom of the stairs to the front door, facing the kitchen.
 
“And you better frickin' eat at some point!”
 
No answer-- he had a feeling that if he made the few short steps into the
kitchen and checked, the food he had made earlier would still be exactly where
he had left it in the microwave. Ugh, he went from bullying to pitying to
mothering Rohan all within one day. Shaking his head, Josuke affirmed to
himself that he wouldn’t let himself mother the older man. It wasn’t his job to
police Rohan-- the man was an adult (maybe), and in a way, Josuke felt that he
couldn’t fault the manga artist for being so insanely focused on his work.
Someone out there probably felt it was admirable for Rohan to forego his own
health and sanity to deliver quality work on time. Probably.
 
The only sounds he could hear was the fax machine. Josuke shut the door quietly
and pulled his coat closer to his body as he tiredly walked home.
 
---
 
It was a bit past 10:00AM when Josuke sweatily set down his duffel and knocked
on Rohan’s door again. He knew already that the doorbell didn’t work-- it was
the only item that Rohan pointedly told him not to repair. There was a tactical
advantage to letting the broken doorbell fester in dysfunctionality-- it meant
he was more convincing when he pretended that he simply was too consumed by
work to open the door.
 
Before he was able to knock again, the upstairs window was thrown open and
Rohan leaned out briefly to yell, “I heard you-- go to the backdoor, I left it
unlocked.” The window shut again, and the manga artist was gone.
 
Josuke hoisted his duffel bag back onto his shoulder-- in it were some
miscellaneous items (hair gel, for one), a change of clothes, and the freshly
laundered borrowed clothing that had quickly dried in the summer heat after
being carefully washed that morning-- and headed back through his now familiar
route around Rohan’s house that he had made countless times the day before.
Score, the air conditioning was still on!
 
He was fairly certain that Rohan would keep it on since he was 1.) working
indoors 2.) loaded with money, but Josuke had grown to miss the air
conditioning after rolling around at home for hours without it. There was no
way he would turn it on at home after seeing his mom’s underlined warning on
her handwritten note: “Remember the ridiculous power bill from last year? Don’t
let that happen again. Love, Mom.”
 
With some satisfaction, Josuke saw some new dishes in the sink as he walked
through the kitchen on his way in.
 
The artist’s back was to him once again when Josuke set his duffel bag down on
the couch of the study.
 
“I’m glad that you ate-- but did you, like, actuallysleep?”
 
“Yes-- about five hours, before my editor called with revisions.”
 
Josuke lingered, caught between scolding Rohan (“Idiot, that’s not enough-
- didn’t you just pull an all nighter?”) or admiring him (“Well damn, that’s
some dedication right there”). Rohan noticed, and deftly turned a page as he
finished rapidly penciling down countless notes before admitting, “I didn’t
forget about your payment, but I’ll have to ask you for your patience again-- I
really can’t stop right now, so I will have to pay you later.”
 
“Oh, um--”
 
“I did not forget about the fax machine either. If possible, you can finish
your list of what you’ve done up till now and write up a proposal for me to
review as soon as I’m done. You’ll still have to wait for me to finish though.”
 
Awkwardly, Josuke ran his hand down his pink, sunburned arm, “Ah-- right, that.
Um, I think I’d rather just go do more chores or whatever--” Not wanting to
sound greedy, Josuke quickly added, “I just think I’d feel awkward to be
like, waiting around your house for you to finish working. Ya get me?”
 
“That’s fair.” Rohan pulled his revision list close to himself and scrutinized
it severely. The continued silence signaled to Josuke that he was released for
now to go about his own devices for the day.
 
“Wait,” the artist commanded with a groan, stopping Josuke from leaving the
room, “Near the door is a book shelf. The second one from the left-- can you
grab a book for me?”
 
“Sure, which book?”
 
“It’s the one that says ‘Dynamic Foreshortening.’ It should be on the top
shelf, near the rightmost side. Use the foldable stand if you need to-- it
should be propped by the couch.”
 
While Josuke was blessed with height, the artist’s massive, heavy shelves that
lined the walls of his work room were very, very tall. The beautiful workroom
had an elegant, elevated ceiling-- and the tall shelves that were built into
the walls took advantage of that extra vertical space. He hunted around shortly
for the stand-- as Rohan had described, it was right by the couch.
 
“Okay, I got the stand-- where was the book again?” called out Josuke as he
unfolded the stepping stool.
 
“Second book shelf from the left, top shelf, towards the right.”
 
With one foot, he tested the sturdiness of the stool before committing his
whole weight to it. Running his fingertips along the spines of the shelf,
Josuke realized there were a lot of books-- in multiple languages, too. The
organizational system was completely nonsense to him-- was it by title? Author?
This one was in Italian, and the other was in Japanese. There were even spines
that had nothing on them-- they looked to be handmade albums of some sort.
 
Not wanting to look stupid, Josuke kept searching.
 
“Did you find it?”
 
“Is it in, um, Japanese? Or who is it by?”
 
“It is-- the author’s name starts with ‘Ya,’ but it’s not sorted by last name.”
 
Squinting, Josuke rechecked the row, trying to read the kanji of the various
last names just in case. Finally, he saw it-- it was not in the row of books,
but was instead stacked on top of the rows-- and it was barely out of his reach
on the wide shelf. Throwing his leg out behind him for balance, Josuke reached,
and reached, till he managed to grab the thin book by the tip of his
fingernail.
 
“Don’t move.”
 
Suddenly, Rohan was there, behind him. Josuke wavered, but felt himself
anchored firmly in place.
 
Rohan’s hand was holding his leg up.
 
Slowly, Josuke turned his head, while his arm and leg were still outstretched
awkwardly. The artist was staring at him intensely with bright green eyes. A
few heads below Josuke, Rohan firmly held Josuke’s leg in place with one hand
and had a pencil in his other hand. He held it up, and closed one eye. He
studied the teen for several minutes, until Josuke wobbled from fatigue.
 
“Okay, step down. You can put the book back, I don’t need it anymore. I have an
idea.”
 
With Rohan’s shoulder as a brace, Josuke let go of the book and shakily got off
the step stool before he dizzily made a beeline to the couch. The circulation
came back to him in the form of a headrush, and he knew collapse was imminent.
He laid facedown on the couch until the spots left his eyes. When he eventually
looked up, Rohan was still staring at him but this time the artist was
peculiarly crouched and peering at him from the side of the couch. He was
framing the sprawled figure of the teenager with the pencil and another hand
again.
 
The manga artist stood up suddenly and commanded, "Come here." Without waiting
for any response from the teen, the artist walked back to his desk and started
rapidly drawing on a fresh sheet of paper. With finality, he set the pencil
down and sat back as Josuke reached the drawing table.

Admiring the fairly accurate sketches of both himself standing on the stool and
also laying on the couch, Josuke ran his hand over the fresh drawing dazedly.
It was surreal to see himself recreated not only so quickly but also
faithfully.

"You see this?" snappily, Rohan motioned at the various squares and cubes he
had used to build up the shape of Josuke's body receding from the extreme
angles of the poses he had depicted. "This would have usually taken me thirty,
maybe forty minutes to draw by myself. However, since I could see you do it-- I
can draw it just like that." He snapped his fingers, and looked directly at the
teen fervently before grabbing the notes he had been poring over all morning.

"These are the revision notes from my editor-- look here, at what I circled."

Upon briefly glancing at the rest of the writing pad, Josuke could see that the
list was not that long and mostly contained very specific changes, such as
"Dialogue on page 16 panel 5 would be better rewritten as '...'" However, the
circled item simply said, "Too much atmosphere, not enough action."

Expectantly, Rohan raised a brow at Josuke, who shrugged in response.

The artist continued to elaborate, "Over the phone, he said that the longer
format of the monthly issues dilutes the drama of the action I draw-- I need
not only more 'wow' moments, but to add more dynamism to the existing ones.
More physical action, more explicit depictions, more risky and daring
situations-- things like that. My manga already has quite a bit of that though-
- Pink Dark Boy is a horror with psychological elements that is written to tap
into the fear and interest of boys and young men-- but it needs to be done in a
more exciting manner. It’s possibly too cerebral for Shounen Jump, and needs
more base excitement to keep the readers interested when reading the longer
chapters."
 
Rohan spoke energetically and passionately as he grabbed the pages splayed
around him, pointing at scenes and explaining how each part could be punched up
further with a lower vantage point, a vivid twist to the crime scene, a
distorted face of the guest character for the story, and so on. The only beat
through Rohan's rapid dissection of how to energize his manga was when he held
a hand against his jaw and scoffed at how the other editorial staff wanted him
to add more fanservice-- the readers demanded a larger female presence in his
manga, but not as characters to drive his story-- as eye candy. He shook his
head solemnly, muttering that perhaps the elevated status and meaning of his
art was lost on his simple-minded readers-- and Josuke wondered what Rohan
understood as the relationship between the author and readers.
 
His editor had suggested many other ways for Rohan to engage the readers with a
more gripping version of Pink Dark Boy-- extreme vantage points, wider shots,
more violence, and so on-- all suggestions that required Rohan to employ his
skills in anatomy, foreshortening, and perspective in more challenging ways
than he had been doing already.
 
“It’s more difficult-- a professional artist of my caliber can absolutely do
all of that, but I’m a very popular artist who has a lot more to do than draw
my manga for monthly release, and the time I could gain back by using a live
model would really benefit me.”
 
“A live model? Does that mean I gotta,” Josuke panickedly searched for the
words in his head before whispering, “pose nude?”
 
“What? Don’t be stupid-- why would you think that?”
 
Embarrassedly, Josuke hastily explained that he had heard before from a
classmate that their elder sibling that had gone onto art college had,
amazingly, not only seen but drew naked people for their life drawing classes.
That was a thing, right?
 
The teen was completely red in the face when he saw Rohan furrow his brows at
the explanation, then laugh. “Yeah, that seems like the kind of things kids
would talk about-- don’t children also spread rumors like, ‘If you hold your
hand out of a car driving at a certain speed, you can make the air in your hand
feel like a breast’? Or, ‘The skin on the inside of your elbow feels like lips,
so you can practice kissing from it.’”
 
“I don’t do that!” shrieked Josuke-- he had, in fact, considered doing both of
those things (in middle school), but had never actually gone through with them.
 
“Well, to your credit, yes, you do draw nude models for life drawing. However,
I don’t need you to be nude-- my grasp of anatomy is advanced enough that I, a
great, professional artist, do not need to have a nude model.” Visibly, Josuke
relaxed-- outside of gym class, bathhouses, and his immediate family (and only
when he was a child), no one had seen him naked before. Josuke wasn’t ashamed
of his body at all-- even if it was spotted unflatteringly from a sunburn right
now-- he had just never imagined that he would ever be nude to be drawn, and
wasn’t emotionally prepared for such a situation.
 
Rohan continued, unabated, ”In fact, it is often times harder to accurately
depict the complex ways that different materials fall across the body than it
is to draw someone nude-- so I may have you wear something from my prop
collection, like a suit jacket. Your, hm, proportions are quite suitable for
characters that are common to shounen manga-- so I could definitely take
advantage of that when not only posing you for different scenes but also for
examining how light or fabric look across your form.”
 
With a smile, Rohan mused as he absently sketched the various items on his desk
in front of him under his revision notes. “Over the years, I’ve taken many
reference photos-- but it’s difficult to capture the way an object turns in
space with a photo, and thus I do feel that my work is more dimensional when
drawn with something live as my reference. It may be because the object is
flattened as a photo, and thus loses some of its depth-- having the object in
front of me better allows me to visualize it occupying the space around it.”
 
Politely, Josuke nodded-- Rohan’s speeches about manga were interesting, and he
did enjoy seeing how Rohan was completely reinvigorated when talking about
manga. Still, most of the concepts Rohan had been rapidly introducing as he
quickly jumped from one thought to another were far beyond anything Josuke had
encountered in his literature and art classes.

Eyeing Josuke's amicable smile and predictable nods suspiciously, Rohan stopped
his treatise and curtly stated, "I'm talking to myself, aren't I?" The warm
smile he had when analyzing manga elements was gone, and instead was replaced
with a tight frown.

"Er, sorry-- I mean, I guess it's interesting, but--"

"No, it's fine-- I shouldn't have expected someone like you to appreciate the
fine art of manga." He looked genuinely disappointed, which instantly pissed
Josuke off.

"Wow, rude-- shouldn't ya be a little nicer if ya need my help?"

"I don't need your help-- I can do all of this without you, it's just much
faster if you do this for me," snapped Rohan defensively.

Resisting the urge to fight back, Josuke propped a fist on his hip and rolled
his eyes. "Fine, let’s get to the point. What is it that you want me to do fer
you, then?"

"Let me pose and draw you. You'll have to be available to me at all times
though when I'm working-- I can pay you an hourly rate when you're at my house
to make up for the waiting because I won't know what parts I need you for until
I get to that part of the story.”

---

Silently, Josuke fist pumped heartily in the guest room. This was different
from the repairs-- Rohan had begrudgingly said he needed Josuke as his personal
live model so that he could finish his revisions on time and thus could attend
to his other obligations. Well, to be more accurate, Rohan strenuously
emphasized numerous times that if he weren't so bogged down by all of the other
jobs he had to do as a manga artist that he wouldn't desire to employ Josuke in
this kind of capacity.
 
However, circumstances were forcing the manga artist’s hand-- having Josuke be
his personal model was an efficient and productive use of the vacant, vapid
teenager. While Josuke could definitely do without the condescending comments
Rohan tossed in here and there, he was still delighted at these new prospects.
Whatever way Rohan wanted to justify it was fine with Josuke, because this kind
of job was assuredly guilt-free for him. He suppressed a giggle behind a closed
fist as he tucked the clean clothes he had borrowed back where he had found
them the night before in the drawers.
 
See, yesterday he had sort of forced the repairs onto Rohan out of greed, but
now-- now Rohan had asked Josuke to help him. That was totally different.
 
To stay busy, they had agreed that Josuke would be allowed to continue doing
odd jobs to add onto a separate paycheck. He could keep making his list of what
he's fixed, repaired, tidied up, or anything else Josuke took care of that was
within reason to keep and maintain Rohan’s house in a presentable condition.
They also agreed that if he didn’t have anything else to do other than live
model, he wouldn’t need to go to Rohan’s house unless called for. That would
mean if the manga artist finished all of his revisions by today, then he
wouldn’t need to come back to do poses. The very first opportunity of time off
would be a day of shopping. Josuke sighed wistfully.
 
Rohan hadn’t said when this arrangement would end either-- it could be
indefinite, for all Josuke knew, as long as Rohan’s manga kept getting
published. This meant a somewhat stable income that he could look forward to.
Maybe he should start buying whatever manga magazine Rohan had said his Dark
Boy Pink (or whatever) was published in to ensure his own job security.
 
Live modeling was surprisingly easy, too. Earlier, Rohan had taken his time
when he eyeballed Josuke because he had been mentally calculating the pros and
cons of having the lanky teen model while the teen had wobbly balanced on the
step stool. Now that Rohan was actually drawing him for the sake of drawing
him, the professional artist was very, very fast. Rohan always had a very
specific vision in mind-- from the pose, to the angle, and even the details in
the form of props and lighting.
 
Josuke was impressed the first time he reported for posing duty and saw that
Rohan had paraded out and arranged a number of props that were supposedly from
the large, deep closet in his work room.
 
“Here’s a tie-- stand there and I’ll pose you.”
 
Perched with one leg propped up onto the step stool, Josuke allowed himself to
be molded into place. Rohan pushed and pulled his body-- moving his arm just
so, turning him roughly by the chin to the specific tilt he desired, and
adjusted the minute angle of his legs. Satisfied, Rohan nodded sharply before
grabbing a large drawing pad and flattening himself stomach-down onto the
ground, like a bear rug.
 
Out of the corner of his eye, Josuke could see the man curiously throw his head
back and forth repeatedly, before crawling reptilian-like to a slightly
different place in the room to better achieve the angle he desired. Finally, he
dragged the drawing pad in front of himself and sketched.
 
Moments later, the green-haired man got back up and stiffly brushed the front
of his outfit off, murmuring, “I’m done.”
 
“Do you want me to put this all this... stuff away for you?” questioned Josuke
as he hopped off the stool and looked around, trying to figure out what to do
with the tie in his hand. The artist had already returned to his desk to
continue drawing, back facing Josuke again-- a now familiar sight.
 
“No, leave it-- I’ll probably have to reuse parts of it later to keep things
consistent. You may go.”
 
Truthfully, Josuke found himself having fun when he would pose periodically
throughout the day. Especially the poses with the fake gun-- they made him feel
pretty cool as Rohan, admittedly, had a good eye for framing the action. He
chanced smiling openly as he crouched behind the couch, gun held close to his
face, as Rohan stood on the arm of the couch from the opposite side, sketching
him from behind.
 
When not modeling, he continued to tidy up-- specifically avoiding not only
diving too deeply into Rohan’s personal life as he did, but also tidying up the
work room. He inherently felt like he was in the way somehow when he was in
Rohan's immediate working vicinity and not modelling-- whether he was there
just to ask simple questions like, “Where'd ya want this ta go?” or longer
questions such as, “Izzit cool if I take out some of the rugs and beat them in
the yard? Do ya care if dust gets on stuff?”
 
Eventually though, he had run out of things to do and his list was done. As he
rested in the kitchen with a glass of water, Josuke hugged his arms around
himself and shivered. The lull in activity was enough for him to find the air
conditioning too strong-- forcing him to put on the light sweater he had
brought for his walk home. Rohan's beautiful house was mostly dusty or needed
touch-ups from the busy manga artist neglecting its upkeep and maintenance-
- all of the labor-intensive jobs were done. The bored teen rocked back and
forth on the kitchen stool, wondering what to do next. Other than the stash of
Koichi-related items and his large wardrobe-- Rohan did not have many
possessions cluttering up the place for him to try to sort.
 
The only exception was Rohan’s work room-- which now had new, various piles of
stuff scattered about it. Somehow, all of the items dotting the floor were
excavated from the work room's now mythically-sized closet. Eyeballing the
expanse of mess in front of him after his latest posing session, Josuke had
taken a quick mental inventory in preparation for clean-up later. There was the
prop gun sitting on a pile of fabric scraps tucked into an old wicker basket in
one pile, some other pile partially covered with a suit jacket that was too
small for Josuke, and even a pile of just books. Many, many books that Rohan
had plucked out of the shelves now that he was fleshing out his second draft
for his editor. Other groups of items included a number of lights on stands
positioned in a rough circle together. Each light/stand combination was
configured-- as Rohan haughtily explained-- with different temperatures and
powers of bulbs to mimic a variety of atmospheric lighting rigs.
 
All of these piles of stuff had been shoved around the room after use by Rohan,
and all of these items could not be put away for one reason or another.
 
Josuke gave up on asking after Rohan insisted again that he was confident that
all three of the lights needed to be out just in case-- that he was on a roll,
and would need them soon, perhaps. Maybe. The piles of items were, for now, a
lost cause. Comforting himself, Josuke thought that after Rohan finished the
second draft, he could put them away. He just needed something to do now that
the rest of the house was done, and he no longer had any excuses left to not
tidy up this last room.
 
So for now, he set his sights on other things-- like the built-in shelves.
Josuke practically scraped the thick layers of dust off of the shelves built
into the walls. The hardwood shelves probably had not been cleaned since the
previous owner of the house moved out. Struggling, Josuke tried to reorganize
the eclectic collection of books crammed into them. Somehow, Rohan always knew
what book Josuke was handling even without looking up from his work desk-- and
would make Josuke’s anxiety go out the roof by growling Very Important and
Relevant Facts everytime Josuke's fingers so much as tapped a book spine, such
as, “Be careful, that’s a first edition. There were only about 200 of those
ever made and I had picked it up when I studied art in Europe.” At one life and
death moment, he nearly dropped a book worth hundreds of thousands of yen-
- luckily, Crazy Diamond picked it up in time. Still, he felt the quiet tension
in the air rise immediately.
 
It was getting to be too much to bear, and the organization of the work room
was going nowhere. Josuke's nerves were shot. Mumbling a vague excuse,
he escaped out of the work room with a patter of his socked feet down the
stairs-- it was getting close to dinner time anyway. Rummaging through the
pantries again, Josuke’s growling stomach bemoaned that there were, of course,
even less groceries than yesterday to choose from.
 
Already, he and Rohan had the same as yesterday for lunch-- instant noodles,
powdered lemonade. Even though it was just the second time he’s had that meal,
he was already sick of it. How did Rohan consume the same instant noodle
regularly without a flinch, or a heart attack from the sodium? Mechanically,
Rohan had eaten with his left-hand while continuing to work with his right so
that he could maintain his lightning-quick working pace. Josuke stuck his
tongue out in disdain at the scarce pickings of Rohan's kitchen. Perhaps he
could convince Rohan to give him some grocery money-- buying groceries and
making dinner were chores too, right?
 
Swirling the undissolved lemonade powder left behind in the almost empty jug,
Josuke considered how to even get back into the intense work room to talk to
Rohan-- should he wait to be invited back in when needed for a pose? His
stomach growled sadly at the thought. No one could predict when that would
happen again-- not even Rohan-sensei. Slumping against the kitchen counter with
the jug against his chest, he pouted. Was there anything he could to do ease up
the tension?
 
 
 
Desperately, Josuke shrugged off his white sweater and tied it around his
waist-- instead of letting it fall behind him though, he let the body of the
sweater fall in front of him, over his loose black shorts. The white sweater
looked almost like it blended into his white tank top. Having looked through
the kitchen multiple times-- as if doing so would magically make more food
appear-- Josuke knew exactly where to find a serving tray to complete his look.
 
He brewed up some hot water and brought together an European-style teapot with
a Japanese-style teacup, then shoved a tea bag into the teapot to seep in hot
water. It looked silly, but so did the rest of his outfit. Carefully, Josuke
crept up the stairs with the steaming pot on the tray and approached the work
room.
 
Ahem!
 
After clearing his throat audibly, Josuke attempted to trot into the room with
the tray of tea and daintily curtseyed-- carefully, slowly, cautiously-- behind
Rohan.
 
“Rohan-sama, you seem so tense-- how about a cup of tea before dinner?” It was
awkward-- very, very awkward. Josuke had only ever seen what a cosplay maid
looked like when a TV special ran on the first maid cafe opening up in Tokyo,
and the only other maids he had ever seen were on historical shows about
British aristocracy. He wasn’t quite sure if he came off as flirty (maid cafe)
or matronly (historical show), and set down the cup with a bright smile before
he filled it with the teapot. Leaving the cup and pot, he stepped back with the
serving tray held tightly against his stomach.
 
Rohan pivoted in his chair with an unreadable expression fixed on the teen.
 
Instantly, Josuke felt regret for pulling this stupid prank. All he wanted was
to try to loosen Rohan up-- maybe segue from the dinner comment by laughing and
asking in his normal voice if he could step out to get them some groceries.
Instead, he was petrified in place, feeling lost and confused after pretending
to be a maid to his now-employer. How did he ever think this was a good idea in
the first place?
 
Before the panic completely set in, Rohan’s eyes quickly went up, down, and up
again across Josuke’s get-up before he scowled deeply.
 
“Are you insulting me?” he growled while massaging his temples-- Josuke worried
as he saw Rohan’s jaw tighten. Maybe this stupid stunt was going to get him
thrown out-- Rohan regularly threatened to toss Josuke out plenty of times in
the past, and sometimes would make good on that promise. He could feel the
anger from Rohan growing, and stepped back reflexively.
 
Yet Rohan held him there by the edge of his white sweater.
 
“If you’re going to do something like this, do it right so that I can at least
use it for reference.”
 
“What?”
 
Rohan snorted and flipped the white sweater up with a flick of his thin hand-
- Josuke held back from acting on the puzzling and unfamiliar urge to cover his
groin with the serving tray, as if Rohan had flipped a nonexistent skirt-
- before Rohan sat back and roughly took the tea cup in his hands.
 
He was genuinely offended by not Josuke’s actions, but by Josuke’s outfit.
 
“You are my personal model now, aren’t you?” He gave Josuke a pointed look when
Josuke stuttered as if to object-- but in reality, it was true. That is what
they had agreed upon, after all. Rohan took a sip of the tea-- his expression
softened slightly at the warmth of the liquid.
 
Josuke saw another opportunity.
 
“Costumes cost extra.”
 
“Deal.”
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Summary
     Thank you for reading my fic!!! I read every single comment multiple
     times-- the kind words really inspire me to work hard on this fic for
     you all. I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and I'm glad that you
     guys seem excited for this fic to progress. I apologize if the pace
     is slow-- I'm trying to make sure I set everything up enough to
     justify the rest of the fic, which is going to be a very wild ride.
     By the way, my friends and I started a Youtube channel! I would super
     appreciate if you guys check it out-- in it, we talk about fandom-
     related stuff, such as favorite kinks in fic! In the latest episode
     (episode 2), we try to guess what a fic is about from the title and
     tags-- at the end of the video, you can see me hiding behind a
     caejose doujinshi because I'm laughing too hard.
     https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCfAEf7WozXUKxkpQ1_Ytulg
     Anyway, please enjoy this next chapter!!!! I hope it makes you smile.
"Tsk."

Rohan clicked his tongue irritably again as the zipper refused to budge. The
zipper sat, unmoving, at the small of Josuke's back, and Rohan sat back into
the couch, annoyed and defeated. The maid costume's open back gaped, revealing
Josuke's sunburned skin and sharp shoulder blades. The teen was on his
haunches, smiling crookedly again.

All of Rohan's reference costumes were too small because they were sized for
Rohan.

Something about that was both hilarious and sad to the teen.

This was why the suit jacket had puckered tightly across his broad shoulders
the second day (Monday) he worked for Rohan, and this was why the maid costume
could not be zipped up today, on his seventh day (Saturday) of working for
Rohan.
 
 
 
Once again, Josuke had been both troubled and amazed at Rohan's astounding work
ethic. That Tuesday, the manga artist had not only received the first round of
revisions but also triumphantly faxed back the finished second draft in the
evening shortly before Josuke had gone home. He truly was finishing much faster
than when he used to work alone, and in a way Josuke felt a bit proud for
contributing.

Wednesday, Rohan finally slept in-- and Josuke went on his first shopping trip
with the initial part of his modelling paycheck. The other deeds he had done
had added up to an amount too large for Rohan to pay in cash. It would be
preferable, he explained, to wire Josuke the large amount of money. After what
happened when he made his last large deposit though, Josuke knew his mom would
notice the influx of money right away. He had insisted on a check to cash out,
and meandered dreamily up and down Morioh’s shopping district with the large
bills tucked deep into his jacket’s inner pocket.
 
When he had got home that night, he shakily slid his new leather bag and
designer shoes under his bed. The new purchases were hidden by stacks of his
old school books-- some of which had been hollowed out by him so that he could
place money inside the homemade compartments.
 
Rohan had called him back to the drawing room a few days later, after Josuke
had sated his shopping urges for the time being-- though, it was more like he
could no longer fit more new purchases into his room without raising suspicion
from his mom. On a Saturday morning, he would usually be at home playing video
games all day, but his greed-- no, ambition-- had convinced him that it was
worth foregoing games to spend a Saturday working at Rohan’s.
 
“I have an illustration to do, so I’m going to need you to pose for some
thumbnails,” remarked Rohan straightforwardly as soon as Josuke had stepped in-
- having let himself in through the backdoor again.
 
“You sure seem well-rested,” noted Josuke softly as he had placed his duffel
down onto the couch. Indeed, Rohan had been pacing alertly around his desk with
a pencil tucked over his ear and under his headband as he considered another
sheet of notes in his hand. Periodically, he had stopped pacing to
energetically jot something down, nodding to himself with a smug grin at his
own genius ideas.
 
“I am. I slept for two days straight.” With a flick of his chin, Rohan had
looked at the teenager, dissatisfied once again. “Do I need to teach you to
address your employer? Try saying, ‘Good morning, Rohan-sensei.’”
 
The nerve! Josuke had pushed his lips out into an annoyed pout, tossing his
sweater onto the side of the couch as he grumbled, “Tch, ya didn’t greet me
when I came in!”
 
“I acknowledged you by speaking to you-- that should be enough. So where’s my
greeting?”
 
The way that Rohan had said that-- he hadn’t even looked at Josuke when he
walked in! He had just tossed his snooty, flippant demands over his shoulder
with barely a glance. The older man had that conceited smile plastered onto his
perfect face again, and Josuke hated it. Elegantly poised in front of his
slightly shuttered windows, Rohan had continued to write and sketch in his
notebook with an expectant air.
 
Josuke had spun the pompous man around firmly by his thin shoulders and thumbed
up the green headband to plant an exaggerated kiss squarely in the middle
Rohan’s forehead.
 
He had let go of Rohan, grinning ear to ear as the manga artist stumbled
backwards until his back hit the shutters, face pale with shock-- then red with
anger.
 
“Good morning, Rohan-sensei! Didja like yer good morning kiss?”
 
Splat!
 
The notepad had hit him in the face.
 
Which brought them to now-- Josuke, knees on the hardwood floor, suppressing a
laugh after Rohan had struggled with getting him into the maid dress for a good
half hour. When Rohan had commanded him to fetch him the dress from his
workroom’s closet, Josuke guessed that Rohan was going to try to punish him
through humiliation.
 
Sure, he totally bought that Rohan was stuffing him into a dress first thing in
the morning because needed to draw a sexy pin-up for his next promotional
illustration-- something to please the male demographic that made up his
millions (Josuke rolled his eyes) of readers. Unconvinced by the excuse, Josuke
had gathered the dress he found into his arms as he crouched and ducked around
the rows of costume and piles of reference materials that he wasn't allowed
to organize yet. He had a plan.
 
If Rohan was going to put him in a dress, he was going to own it. That way
Rohan would lose doubly, considering he was already paying extra to put Josuke
into full costumes.
 
Yet it hadn’t even come to that.
 
Fuming, Rohan had his head craned back on the couch as he glared bitterly at
his ceiling. Josuke sat back on his behind and scratched his stocking-clad
knees idly now that they were off the floor, the dress bunched lumpily around
his hips, revealing his pink boxershorts. His legs were so long that the
stockings were barely being held up by garters-- he undid them so that the
white socks weren’t squeezing his thighs so tightly, and rolled them down to
above his knees.
 
“That’s unattractive,” scolded Rohan as he slumped forward with his elbows on
his thighs. The teen shrugged and sat forward too, straightening the skirt down
over his thighs as he kicked his legs out in front of himself.
 
They stared at each other-- Rohan, face dark and sullen, and Josuke, a smile
tugging at his lips.
 
“Well, this will have to do for now-- after we finish with the thumbnails, I’m
sending you to my personal tailor to get you measured. We’ll get things made
for you.” Rohan attempted to straighten himself up with a careless air as he
lifted himself off the couch, fixing his headband pointedly to regain his
composure.
 
Josuke tilted his head to the side, squinting. “Isn’t that crazy expensive?”
 
“I’m concerned about realism, not money,” spat Rohan, offended. “The integrity
of my work is at stake. Now stand up and let me see what I can do about how
stupid you look-- I believe I can make the front of your outfit look nice
enough for thumbnails, at least. Wait on the couch for me to set up.”
 
He did as he was told, curling up on the couch lazily-- it was Saturday, after
all. Josuke folded his arms over the armrest and put his head down, dozing. 9AM
was too early for a weekend.
 
 
 
“Wake up-- get on the chair.”
 
Some time had passed, he noted vaguely. Languidly, Josuke stumbled forward and
plopped himself into the chair, yawning. He winced-- “That's briiiight”-- when
Rohan turned a light onto him immediately.
 
“Lean forward, can’t you do anything right? God, here-- I’ll do it.” His body
was warm and pliable from the nap, and Josuke allowed himself to be posed as he
looked away from the light. Slowly, he opened his eyes again later when Rohan
snapped his fingers right in front of Josuke's face, impatiently telling him to
look at him.
 
Josuke looked-- Rohan’s face was right in front of him, blessedly blocking out
the bright light. He looked nice, actually-- the rim of white around the shape
of him was beautiful, thought Josuke dreamily.
 
“Stop looking stupid and start looking sexy.”
 
Rohan left to get his drawing implements-- the light was searing back in
Josuke's eyes again. The teen resisted moving his hands to rub out the bright
circles in his eyes knowing that Rohan would just grab him by the wrists and
reposition him into the desired pose. He focused his watery eyes past the light
until he saw Rohan, crosslegged on the floor with the drawing pad in his lap as
he stared fixedly upon the scene in front of him from a low angle.
 
Now mostly awake, Josuke considered the set-up.
 
He was crouched forward on the edge of the seat with one elbow on his knee,
legs spread, and the other hand pulling up the maid dress, exposing both of his
thighs. Rohan was actually in-between his legs, sketching already.
 
Uh.
 
“Don’t ya think this is a bit… tasteless?”
 
“What do you know of taste?”
 
“I know that this seems more like the cover of a porno mag than a drawing for
a kid's manga.”
 
Josuke started-- Rohan had loudly slapped his pencil down onto the drawing pad,
infuriated.
 
“How dare you-- you think you know better than I, the Great Manga Artist Rohan
Kishibe?!” scolded Rohan, holding an open palm against his chest for emphasis
as he enunciated his own name. “I’ve been drawing manga for years-- you don’t
even read manga, so who the hell do you think you are trying to give me
advice?”
 
Bristling, Josuke yelled back-- somehow managing to hold his pose-- “I may not
read manga, but I have eyes and I’m a sixteen-year-old boy, which makes me your
target demographic, asshole. I’ve seen the covers of monthly manga serials at
the book shelves of stores all my goddamn life, and I’m sayin' that what
yer drawing now is no different than the dirty nudie rags they keep on the
other side of the book shelf!”
 
Heatedly, they bore holes into each other, the air practically sizzling.
 
“Are you challenging me, brat?”
 
“Maybe I am, old man.”
 
After a few tense seconds, Rohan’s bared teeth twisted into a confident, toothy
smile.
 
“Okay, let’s let the professionals decide then-- we’ll do three of my set-ups,
and you can do three of your own. I’ll send them all in as thumbnails, and
whoever’s thumbnails gets chosen by my editor wins.”
 
“You’re on.”
 
---
 
As Josuke walked back to the house in his shorts and tank top, plastic bags
full of groceries looped around his elbows while he wiped the sweat off his
brow with the back of his forearm, he hoped that Rohan’s editor would respond
soon with his preferred thumbnail.
 
They had finished up the six thumbnails around 11AM, and despite their
argument, Rohan still called his tailor to make an appointment for Josuke’s
fitting. They had continued yelling at each other until Josuke was out the
door, however. It was childish, but neither of them could help it.
 
“Your appointment is at 11:30AM, so don’t be late! Do you know where it is or
do I have to hold your hand and walk you there?!”
 
“Stay at home with yer fucking walker-- it’s right next to the luxury watch
store in the Fashion District, I walk by it all the goddamn time! I’m gonna buy
groceries while I’m out before we both fucking starve, too-- there’s nothing
good to eat here! Yer payin' for the food!”
 
“Fine, but you better do that after your appointment-- if you miss the
appointment, I’m gonna pin a goddamn note on you the next time you run my
errands, and it’ll say, ‘Sixteen-year-old idiot child out on errand to tailor
and grocery store, if lost, call Rohan Kishibe!’”
 
“Sure, whatever! See you in, I don’t fucking know, two hours or somethin'.
Bye!”
 
Josuke had slammed the door, hard-- if he had broken it, he resolved to just
fix it with Crazy Diamond later.
 
It was almost 1PM now, noted Josuke as he passed a bus stop with a clock above
its sun-bleached schedule. He shimmied one of the bags down to his wrist and
fished out a melting ice bar to suck on as he walked the three blocks back to
the house. It melted quickly and dripped down his arm. Cursing softly, he
lapped the trail of sugar up quickly from his skin-- mixed with his sweat, the
strawberry liquid tasted both salty and sweet.
 
He fixed the backdoor on his way in-- he had indeed thrown it off the hinges in
his fit earlier. Josuke flapped the front of his shirt as he put away the
groceries, pausing to let the frigid air of the refrigerator’s ice box waft
onto his body. It was a few degrees colder than the air conditioner and felt so
good on his damp skin. He shoved the rest of the melting ice bars into the
freezer and shut the door, then stocked up the rest of the fridge with some
quick and easy foods he picked up.
 
Eggs, milk, packaged side dishes, tofu, natto, some miso paste, and a few
bundles of vegetables. In the cabinets, he put soy sauce, cooking wine, oil,
salt, and pepper. The old bottle of cooking oil that Rohan had was so sticky
with age that Josuke threw it out the first time he regrettably grabbed it by
its gooey neck. Thinking back on it made him shudder.
 
It was quiet upstairs, which meant Rohan was still drawing. The house was
always so still-- Rohan knew immediately when people were within five feet of
his house, which served as a warning notice to allow him time to duck away from
all of his windows and sequester himself somewhere unseen in his house to hide
from visitors like the shameless, lying shut-in he was. Josuke had seen him
drawing in the restroom multiple times at this point, each time hissing for
Josuke to go hide too so that people wouldn't see shadows in the house and
become hopeful.
 
Either way, he knew that Rohan was hyper aware of the fact that Josuke was
home. Since Rohan hadn’t said anything, he probably didn’t need him yet, so
Josuke cracked open a can of soda he bought and poured it over ice. Sitting on
his favorite stool, he weighed his chances of winning the challenge and thought
back on the six thumbnails.
 
All of Rohan’s set-ups were erotic to the max-- he had mentioned previously
that the publishing department has been telling him that he’s been out of touch
when it came to fanservice, and so the manga artist was (begrudgingly) only
drawing a sexy pin-up due to an executive decision.
 
They were absolutely right in that Rohan did not know how to do sexy.
 
Rohan’s first thumbnail idea: the guest character of the current arc-- a maid
who was a witness to the murder of her employer-- perched on a chair with her
legs spread and dress up, panties clearly visible from the low vantage point.
 
Rohan’s second thumbnail idea: the guest character on all fours for no reason
in particular with her dress hiked all the way up to her waist, leaving very
little to the imagination since the angle was towards the back and from the
side of her.
 
Rohan’s third thumbnail idea: the guest character squatting with a mop in front
of her for no inexplicable reason once again, almost as if she was using it as
a pole to dance on.
 
All three of Rohan’s ideas were utterly crass and tasteless-- Josuke could not
ever remember seeing the cover of a shounen magazine having an illustration
that overtly sexual. His doubts about Rohan’s poses were further cemented when
he had been doing all of those poses-- he felt dirty from how explicit the set-
ups were. It didn't help that the back of the dress was open the entire time.
When he had been on all fours, the front of the dress drooped as the sleeves
slipped down his arms, exposing his chest completely. He bitterly mumbled out
loud about how vulgar everything was, and that the entire indecent set-up made
it felt like he was just missing a profane detail to top it all off-- like
dirty cash stuffed under the garters that tightly followed the curve of his ass
over his boxer briefs.
 
To his surprise, Rohan got up, pulled his wallet out from a drawer, and then
slipped a few bills under the garters on the back of his thighs. He had let the
elastic snap against Josuke's skin when he let go, and then sat back down to
draw without a word. Josuke’s face heated up immediately, and he bit his lip
for the rest of Rohan’s poses, feeling livid from being utterly scandalized.
 
Josuke couldn’t get up fast enough when Rohan had announced that he had
completed his last pornographic thumbnail sketch. He peeled the sweaty bills
off the back of his thighs and-- seeing that Rohan had made no move to retrieve
them-- stuffed them into his duffel before vindictively stomping off to grab
his own props to depict his ideas.
 
Well-versed with Rohan’s reference closet at this point, Josuke then had
quickly set-up his three ideas and got into position.
 
Josuke’s first thumbnail idea: the guest character seated neatly on a chair,
putting on her white stockings with her apron untied. The scene was supposed to
look like a peek at her morning routine as she got ready to work for the day-
- the only tantalizing detail was a glimpse of the layers of dress and
petticoat over her legs that have not been stockinged yet.
 
Josuke’s second thumbnail idea: the guest character from behind, straightening
her bow on her apron in front of a mirror-- there was a brief glimpse of her
legs beneath the petticoat and the edge of her thigh highs. The mirror
reflected her sweet smile.
 
Josuke’s third thumbnail idea: the guest character with her sleeves rolled up
and the front of her dress wet while washing her employer’s expensive clothes
gently-- the wet fabric clung to her body, showing the shape of her breasts
without exposing her.
 
Finishing his soda, Josuke was confident that one of his teasingly erotic pin-
up ideas was going to win. As the supposed target audience, he just had to tap
into what he would like to see that would be within the realm of possibility
for a shounen magazine to come up with the ideas. While it was true that he
didn’t regularly read manga, he did occasionally pick up a book out of
curiosity when the cover would catch his interest.
 
Sure that he was victorious and anxious to confirm his hunches, Josuke rinsed
his glass clean and then returned to the work room to ask Rohan if there had
been any news from the editor yet.
 
In the center of his workshop, the manga artist had flattened himself face down
on the floor. There were a couple of torn up pages on the ground scattered
around him.
 
“... Rohan?” tried Josuke, cautiously. The manga artist did not stir, and
continued his very convincing starfish impression. Perhaps Dr. Kujo could study
him as a new species.
 
He walked a few large circles around the man-- Rohan appeared to still be
breathing, even if he was motionless and unresponsive. With one leg out, Josuke
considered kicking Rohan, but then used his outstretched foot to
cautiously drag a torn paper scrap into his reach while ensuring that he was
still a safe distance away from the unpredictable eccentric.
 
“Crazy Diamond,” whispered Josuke to the shred of paper between his thumb and
index finger, and the paper scrap glowed pink. The other scraps flew towards
him and mated with the piece he had until he had a full sheet in front of him-
- it was the page of Rohan’s thumbnail ideas. Josuke then looked up at the fax
machine and saw that his own page of thumbnail ideas were in the output tray,
having been scanned and sent already. They were unscathed.
 
“Did one of my thumbnails get chosen?”
 
In response to Josuke’s question, Rohan exhaled violently, his body shuddering.
It sounded like he had been crying-- but Josuke wasn’t sure. He sat down on the
floor near Rohan, holding the repaired page in his hands. The big adult baby
flopped over, no longer face down but still refusing to look anywhere near
Josuke.
 
The teen rolled his eyes.
 
“Rohan, it’s not--”
 
“Don’t comfort me, Josuke,” interrupted Rohan, voice dripping with venom.
 
Josuke rolled his eyes again, thankful that Rohan couldn’t see him. He propped
his head up with his hand, sighing.
 
“Fine, I won’t. So are we just gonna lay here until your big boy temper tantrum
is over?”
 
Rohan sighed in turn, then sat up slowly, looking down and away still. His face
was red from being pressed against the floor. Josuke squinted-- he could kind
of make out the hardwood floor’s texture imprinted onto the pale man’s face.
How long had he been lying on the ground?
 
It would have been satisfying to gloat about his victory, but doing so felt
like kicking someone while they’re down. His conscience, once again, prevented
him from stooping to such behavior-- no matter how tempting it was, he knew he
wouldn't be able to live past the guilt. Josuke flapped the thumbnails in front
of himself nonchalantly, trying to figure out what to do.
 
“Um, so… should we get to work or somethin'? You got deadlines to meet still,
yeah?”
 
Weakly, Rohan got up and mumbled one word: “Okay.”
 
He dragged his feet as he plodded towards a bookshelf, then peeled a thick book
out and then flopped into his chair. After a few beats, Josuke got up and
followed, hovering behind Rohan to see what he was looking at.
 
It was a costume catalog, and Rohan was writing down on a sheet of paper a
number of catalog items. Josuke’s measurements were already written down on the
page-- Rohan and his tailor must have spoken at some point when Josuke was
shopping for groceries. Rohan turned the pages and kept writing as his eyes
slowly skimmed the pages, then after having noted down seven items, shut the
thick book. He then sat up and handed Josuke the list tucked into the inside
cover of the catalog.
 
“I’m tired-- call the number on the back of the catalog and read off the item
numbers and your measurements. Tell them it’s my account, and they’ll take care
of it.”
 
“Then what?”
 
“Go home.”
 
The downtrodden man waved vaguely at Josuke to prevent him from saying more,
and then drifted away to his room as if he were withering away with each step.
He heard a muted click as Rohan closed his bedroom door, and the sounds of
springs-- Rohan had thrown himself into his bed.
 
God, Josuke shook his head, how the hell did Koichi deal with such a man child
clinging to him all the time? At least Josuke was being paid to take care of
him-- speaking of which, Rohan had just woken up from sleeping for two days.
Was he honestly going to sleep his humiliation off? Josuke licked a finger and
opened the catalog, thinking that he’ll make some rice, miso soup, and fried
eggs before he left so that Rohan would at least eat properly when he gets up
again. He checked the catalog numbers with the corresponding pages to prepare
the phone order he was going to make.
 
    * 1 maid dress
    * 1 tuxedo suit
    * 1 classic vampire suit (?)
    * 1 pair of black, pointed heels (??-- oh wait, they went with the maid
      dress, probably)
    * 1 sailor uniform, with matching cardigan (???)
    * 1 nurse outfit (???!!)
    * 1 lingerie set that included bra, panties, garters, stockings
      (??!?!?!?!?!)
 
He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, face hot again as he saw
himself wearing the items in his mind's eyes, striking the same flirty poses as
the photographed models in the catalog. The list shook in his hand-- every item
on it was in Josuke’s size.
 
“What the fuck…” croaked Josuke, as he checked the list again. His eyes hadn’t
deceived him. He had only expected the maid dress and heels because, well, one
of the major guest characters in the current arc was a maid, and that's who
they were trying to nail down the look for to get the illustration done. Man,
the lingerie set might even just be for the maid outfit, which would make
sense. The garters and socks were so tight on him earlier that he was sure the
tension of the elastic would yank the garter clips off the stockings and
smack into his ass if he so much as bent a centimeter too far one way or
another.

His eyes darted up and down the rest of the catalog numbers and at the photos
of the models in the book again. The tuxedo made some sense to him considering
how the other suits and formal pieces Rohan had didn’t fit him at all-- it was
somewhat tasteful looking, though still costume-like in appearance. The vampire
suit was odd, but okay, Pink Dark Boy is a horror so maybe a vampire would show
up some day-- cheesy as that would be. However, the sailor uniform and nurse
outfit-- those items he couldn’t justify at all, no matter how hard he tried
(and he really, really tried to think of a reason).

“God,” Josuke whined inwardly, horrified, “Rohan is so fucking weird!”
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
     A lot of dialogue-- I hope it's as funny to you guys as it is to me,
     haha. Thanks for reading, leaving kudos, commenting, and bookmarking!
     I love you all. :*
Usually, custom tailored costumes took at least a week or two to be made-
- however, Rohan had a very good relationship with one costume company in
particular, and they were very aware of the frequent deadlines that Famous
Manga Artists such as himself encountered. So, as expected, Rohan’s order
arrived on his doorstep only a few days later-- on a Wednesday morning, in
fact. The artist-- who had not left his house in over a week-- had stepped
outside only to sign for the box and bring it into the entrance hall.
 
Everything was, Rohan nodded to himself, as requested. He sifted through each
individually wrapped outfit and saw that the manufacturers had thoughtfully
included a few extras as gifts.
 
“Hmm, interesting,” commented Rohan as he ran his fingers across a particular
bagged item. He set it aside-- it may be good for further investigation, but
that is for much later. Right now, he had an illustration to draw.
 
Rohan kicked the emptied box and packing materials to the side of his room and
hung up each outfit into his closet, save for the maid outfit and its
accompanying components.
 
---
 
“I ironed it before you came-- so try not to wear it unless I’m drawing you so
it doesn’t get too wrinkled.” Meticulously, Rohan smoothed the perfectly tied
bow that cinched Josuke’s waist before he stepped back with an appreciative
hum, taking in the entire outfit. Everything looked flawless now that he could
see the complete outfit on his model.
 
It was a slightly different style of maid outfit than the one Rohan had for his
own use-- Rohan’s elegant maid outfit was black and white, sleek and simple.
The character that Josuke was posing for was a youthful maid-- a newbie one, in
the story, who had been overlooked by the murderer as a “stupid child.” This
was the murderer’s first major mistake, as he had not imagined that the “stupid
child” of a maid would escape before he could do her in as a witness to the
crime.
 
With that in mind, Rohan had selected a maid dress that better reflected her
personality-- the petticoat was fluffier, there were more lace and ruffle
trimmings, the sleeves were short, and there was an accompanying headdress. The
base color of the dress was dark purple instead of black, but the apron and
frilly accents were still in white. For a hint of color, the decorative bow
around the collar of the dress was velvet, dark red, and had a small pendant
attached to it.
 
Starry-eyed, Josuke shifted his weight in the heels he wore-- lilting his hips-
- and admired not only the beautiful construction of the outfit, but also the
perfect fit. There was no creasing, puckering, or bulging-- the fabric lay on
his body perfectly, and every curve and straight line framed his figure
crisply. The short heels were easy to walk in, discovered Josuke as he clicked
his way to the full-length mirror Rohan had propped up near his desk to aid
himself in drawing expressions.
 
He could not resist the urge to spin-- despite how “all business” the mood was
that morning-- and smiled at the dreamy way the petticoat and dress fluttered
as he did a few turns. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the outfit when it was
on the hanger since Rohan had quickly ushered him into it as soon as Josuke
stepped into the work room with a yawn moments prior. On a particularly quick
pirouette, he could see just a bit of the top of his socks that were held in
place by the garters. No longer two sizes too small, Josuke’s legs were not
devoid of circulation and the garters did not chafe his soft thighs from
elastic being stretched to the limits by his long limbs. Everything-
- absolutely everything-- fit just right, and was made remarkably. If he wasn’t
so deadset on becoming a cop someday, he would love to pursue fashion.
 
Flipping the front of the skirt up, the enamored teen fingered the lining of
the skirt and studiously chased the stitching up and down the dress with his
fingers.
 
“Ahem.”
 
Standing next to the faithfully reproduced set from Josuke’s thumbnail's
concept, Rohan beckoned impatiently with his free hand-- the other one holding
his large drawing pad.
 
Josuke nodded-- his heels tapped lightly against the hardwood floor as he
walked towards Rohan’s outstretched hand. When he was close enough, Rohan
circled his arm around Josuke’s trim waist and sat him into a plush chair from
his unused dining room. The petticoat flocked around his legs, and Josuke
sucked in a breath as Rohan leaned into him with his arms wrapped around
Josuke’s body-- undoing his apron’s bow strategically.
 
Rohan gently undressed Josuke just enough for the illustration-- his slender
fingers tugged apart the bow he had just made and spread the ribbon tails on
the chair cushion in a way that framed the outside of the dress. Josuke's new
shoes were removed and placed neatly to the side of the set, unnecessary for
now. The manga artist sat back onto his haunches from his kneeling position
and, paying no heed to Josuke’s shocked noise of surprise, slid his hands up
Josuke’s thighs to push the petticoat out of his way.
 
He unhooked one garter and rolled the loosened sock down to a little below
Josuke’s knee, paused thoughtfully, and then rolled it back up a small
distance.
 
The muscle above Josuke’s knee jumped, and Rohan glanced up at the red-faced
teen.
 
“What?”
 
Josuke flicked his head to the side, dodging Rohan’s sharp eyes, and breathed,
“Yer ticklin' me.”
 
Rohan removed his hands and fluffed the petticoat around Josuke’s legs.
Teenagers, sighed Rohan, as he eyed Josuke’s flushed face. He had undressed
Josuke in a purely professional way-- yet here Josuke was, squirming in place
while Rohan’s hands reached up underneath the petticoat to pull some of the
fabric out from underneath his butt.
 
Though, Rohan was not voted one of the Hottest Young Manga Artists for many
years in a row without reason-- Josuke was naturally responding to Rohan’s good
looks, smugly thought the manga artist as he felt Josuke shudder at the soft
touch of Rohan’s fingertips grazing his skin.
 
He quickly moved Josuke’s limbs around to match what they had done in the
initial set-up days ago. Once the lights were on, the scene was complete-
- Josuke, neatly seated on a chair with the apron partially undone, both of his
hands rolling one of his socks up on a raised leg so that he could attach a
garter. Rohan was in place too-- he sat on the step stool at a slightly lower
vantage point so that he could draw the glimpse of petticoat, skirt, and thigh
above the edge of the sock.
 
“You can rest your leg on this kitchen stool if you need to so you don’t hold
it up the whole time I’m drawing,” advised Rohan as he tapped the back of his
pencil against the kitchen stool to his right.
 
“'Kay, thanks.”
 
“Oh, and Josuke--”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“Try to tone down the bashful, virginal look-- I understand that I’m handsome,
but that’s not the expression you had planned for your thumbnail, isn’t it?”
Rohan’s conceited, smug smile was back, and Josuke’s entire being shook with
immediate annoyance.
 
“Shut up, ya perverted octopus,” muttered Josuke, embarrassment forgotten and
replaced by irritation.
 
“Me? Perverted? I’m not the greedy teenager being felt up by an older man for
money, am I?” chuckled Rohan as he smoothly and quickly completed his gesture
of the scene.
 
“Yeah? Then why did you order all that other stuff in my size too, huh? A
nurse's outfit and a girl’s uniform? What the fuck! That’s totally perverse!”
scoffed Josuke, victoriously. There was no way Rohan could explain away those
suspicious items! Josuke had tried to think of a reason last night all the way
until he passed out in bed-- there was absolutely no innocent explanation for
those purchases.
 
“Oh those? I wonder,” paused Rohan, his rapidly moving pencil stilling as he
legitimately considered the motive behind those costumes.
 
“Well?”
 
“I believe that at the time when I wrote down the order, I think I just wanted
to see you in them. In a purely professional way.”
 
“Bullshit. Yer just a kinky pervert who has a nurse fetish or somethin'.”
 
“Oh, Josuke. When you’re no longer a horny, hormonal teenager, you’ll stop
being controlled by your sex drive like an animal and will be in control of
your own base instincts like a rational, functional human being. Then you’ll
know that not everything is about sex, my child,” Rohan said loftily as he held
up his pencil to ensure that the proportions were correct. Josuke sputtered,
offended.
 
“I am not controlled by my sex drive! If anything, you are-- that’s why you
ordered those weird items! You’ve probably got the winning combination of being
both super fucking repressed in addition to being super fucking dense, so yer
just too--”
 
“Josuke, could you kindly calm down? You’re so overtaken with emotion right now
that you’re starting to move,” chided Rohan with a shit-eating smirk.
 
“Tch, fine, whatever-- not my problem that yer a dirty old man and don’t even
know it.” Josuke closed his eyes, took a few calming breaths, and broke out
into a fake, chipper smile, “Purely professional, right? Great! How’s this?”
 
“Perfect, thank you.”
 
Josuke snorted once more for good measure, then with finality he resumed posing
as primly as he could. Rohan could still feel the teen’s anger bubbling beneath
the surface, and smiled.
 
---
 
“Get your foot off of my shoulder, Josuke.”
 
The back of Josuke’s ankle fit perfectly on Rohan’s thin shoulder, and from the
corner of his eye he could see Josuke luxuriously stretch his toes with a
content sigh.
 
“Dun' wanna-- the kitchen stool is hard, so my heel was starting ta ache.”
 
Rohan continued to draw-- he was cleaning up the numerous fabric creases of the
complicated layers of skirt and petticoat-- while baring his teeth, “Then put
your leg back up!”
 
“Naw, ’m tired.”
 
“Take-- a-- break-- then,” spat Rohan. Josuke rolled his ankle, delighting when
he heard a crack.
 
“Eh, I don't really feel like it-- you seem like yer on a roll, so just lemme
rest my foot on yer shoulder for a little longer, please.”
 
“Brat.”
 
“Pervert.”
 
He ran the eraser over a few more stray lines, then picked his pencil back up.
“If I’m such a pervert, then why did my pin-up ideas not get picked? It must
mean that I’m out of touch with items of a sexual nature, so I can’t possibly
be perverted!”
 
Josuke stared, baffled, at how proudly Rohan announced how little he knew about
eroticism.
 
“What? That doesn’t make any goddamn sense.”
 
“Yes, it does-- it proves that I’m not a pervert, and it also proves that I am
in fact, a pure being. I am not driven by sex like you, an animal-- I am an
artist, an elevated being. Like an angel, I desire not for physical vices--”
 
Josuke zoned out-- at least now that Rohan was busy singing praises about
himself, Josuke could assuredly leave his now forgotten foot on Rohan’s
shoulder for a few minutes. He wasn't kidding when he said it felt nicer than
the hard surface of the kitchen stool.
 
---
 
“So explain it to me then-- how is your thumbnail more erotic than the ones I
had directed, Josuke?”
 
“Huh?” Rohan had finally stopped his ten-minute-long speech about how he was an
enlightened being whose sole endeavor was the noble pursuit of art and nothing
else, catching Josuke by surprise.
 
“Since clearly I am unsuited to understanding the mindless vulgarities of
eroticism, do share with me what about your thumbnail is so sexually enticing
for animals such as yourself. I’ve been through rigorous art schooling-- I’ve
learned to take criticism and grow from it, like a reasonable intellectual who
is willing to expand their horizons.”
 
Josuke retrieved his foot, thoroughly rested by now, and scowled.
 
A thought crossed the annoyed teen’s mind, and Rohan glimpsed a brief change in
Josuke’s demeanor before Josuke adopted the sweetest smile Rohan had ever seen
on the sneaky teenager.
 
“Okay, Rohan-sensei,” cooed Josuke, voice dripping saccharinely, “Allow me to
explain why this pose is so arousing to peasants such as myself, then.”
 
“Hold on, let me get my notebook so I can write this down,” said Rohan with his
hand up-- he retrieved a notebook quickly and resumed his position in front of
Josuke, now also smiling, “Alright, enlighten me. You can move a bit-- show me
properly, please.”
 
“Thank you for being so attentive,” bit Josuke, momentarily losing the
unconvincing sweetness in his voice, “Well-- first of all, yer poses were too
straightforward. Yeah, they were sexy-- but they were soooo super sexy that
they left nothing to the imagination, which is boring. Ya wanna let the
viewer’s mind wander a bit.” Leaning back in his chair, Josuke pulled his legs
closer to his chest and hooked an arm around the back of his knees before
continuing his lecture. Rohan leaned forward-- whether he was doing so out of
genuine interest or to continue playing at Josuke’s game was unclear.
 
“See, this small amount of exposed skin,” he gestured at the sliver of skin
that could be seen between his petticoat-hidden bottom and his stockinged legs,
“Leaves a lot to the imagination. The viewer can’t see the maid’s panties
because of the dress and petticoat, and can only see a small part of her soft,
squishy thighs. This'll let the viewer imagine then what is being hidden by all
the clothes. In all of yer poses, the maid was suuuper exposed-- everything
could be seen, so there was no spaces left to be filled by the reader’s own
tastes.”
 
He let his legs back down and covered the bare skin on the front of his thighs
with his hands, “You can’t see anything now right? So doesn’t that make the
viewer wonder? Doesn’t that make ya feel reeeeeally curious? Maybe she’s
wearing white panties, or red-- or none at all! They don’t know-- they can’t
see that, and so they can project whatever they want onto her because of that
mystery.”
 
“What are you wearing, then?” inquired Rohan, the smile gone from his face.
 
Josuke held up a finger against his pursed lips and coyly whispered,
 
“It’s a secret.”
 
---
 
Damn that Josuke.
 
Damn him and his sneaky, conniving ways.
 
Rohan’s eyes followed a bead of sweat as it rolled down the back of Josuke’s
quivering thighs-- the bright, hot lights had been on him for over an hour now,
and while the dress had short sleeves and ended shortly above his knees, the
teenager was starting to feel the heat and exhaustion settle in.
 
The bead of sweat vanished into the fluffy layers of the petticoat.
 
What the hell was Josuke wearing under the dress?!
 
Earlier, in the flurry of getting Josuke into the dress, he hadn’t taken a good
look-- he was just focused on putting the dress onto his model, and that was
all. The dress looked nice, and that was the only thing Rohan noted before he
finished setting up the scene when Josuke went to twirl in front of the mirror
like the idiot child that he was.
 
Now, he wanted to know what Josuke looked like without the dress, and it was
killing him.
 
“Shit,” cursed Rohan under his breath-- he had drawn in the sweat rolling down
Josuke’s thick thighs. His eyes refocused tiredly-- he had been heatedly
staring holes into Josuke since the eroticism lecture-- and he cursed again.
 
It was Josuke on the paper. There was no doubt about it. He had somehow drawn
Josuke, not the maid character. Fuck.
 
This wasn’t going anywhere anymore-- he couldn’t look at Josuke right now, the
entire get-up of Josuke-the-tantalizing-maid was too distracting.
 
Rohan picked up the drawing pad and held it against his chest, hoping that
Josuke didn’t see what he had drawn.
 
“I’m going to lightbox the rest of this-- you can take a long break now.”
 
“Oh thank god,” the teen went limp as soon as he heard the good news, and
splayed himself out onto the plush chair. Rohan’s eyes darted down-- no, the
petticoat and dress were still in the way. He cursed inwardly this time.
 
“Can I change, please? The dress is clinging to me-- it’s soooo frickin' hot
under all these layers!”
 
“No-- I need you to stay in the dress, and also to not get it dirty or
wrinkled. It’ll look too different if you take it off and put it back on, so
just stay put for now in case I need you again.”
 
Groaning loudly, Josuke plucked himself off the chair and carefully slid onto
the couch, being careful to not crease the dress. He leaned over onto a fluffy
pillow he had stolen from the deserted guest room for his own use and let out
an extended whine.
 
“God, here-- you like video games, right?” Rummaging through one of his
drawers, Rohan procured a Gameboy Color, catching Josuke’s attention. This will
quiet the whiny teen.
 
Perking up, Josuke heedfully looked up at the video game system in Rohan’s
hands.
 
“This is a tasteless adaptation,” the proud manga artist cringed disdainfully,
“of my manga that was forced upon me-- I’m supposed to review it, but I do not
have time to waste on derivative works that have been made without my creative
direction. Here’s some headphones-- play the entire tortuous game and do a
detailed write-up on how terrible it is-- we’ll submit that to the game company
so they can realize what a horrible idea their game is.”
 
“Great! Yeah, I can totally do that,” chirped Josuke as he powered on the
system. Rohan had seen Josuke leafing through his manga every now and then when
he had nothing to do, and he already knew about the vacant child’s video game
inclinations-- he was a genius to mate the two interests together to keep
Josuke out of his hair for a few hours.
 
He switched on his lightbox and put the sketch down. Now, to change this
drawing of Josuke to that of the maid character.
 
---
 
“How dare you say that about a derivation of my exquisite manga?”
 
Rohan had nearly torn the cleaned sketch on the lightbox with his hand-
sharpened pencil, and consciously controlled the tremor in his tightened hand
to prevent any damage to the drawing.
 
“What? It’s not bad-- it’s an investigation game that is mostly, like, text-
based, and it covers the first few arcs pretty faithfully-- plus it’s fun!”
 
“I repeat-- how dare you praise this pathetic adaptation of my work of art? I
haven’t worked on it, so it can’t possibly be good.”
 
For a heated minute, Rohan focused on not throwing Josuke out-- he still had to
see what he was wearing under that dress. No, wait, he still needed Josuke to
model for his work. Yeah, that.
 
“Well, maaaaybe it’s good because the source material is good? Actually, maybe
someone who reeeeallly loved yer work was on the production team for this game,
and worked reeeeaaally hard to do a good job because yer manga is so
significant and important to them. Whaddaya think of that, Great Manga Artist
Rohan Kishibe?”
 
Oh, in that case--
 
Rohan spun around in his chair and gracefully flipped his bangs out of his
face, grinning, “I’m flattered, then. Tell me-- how did they handle the very
first case in Pink Dark Boy? Like all manga artists, I hadn’t cemented the core
of the story within the first arc-- usually, the publisher will use the first
arc like a feeler to determine how the story will be handled based off of
reader reactions.”
 
“It’s pretty much verbatim-- here, I can go into the library to replay some of
the key scenes. I’ll read the script to you.”
 
“That’s acceptable.” Turning back to his work, Rohan pictured the maid in his
head again and went back to editing the form of Josuke’s body on the paper into
her’s.
 
“Alright, Act One: It was a dark and stormy night…”
 
---
 
It was silent again-- Rohan’s editor was hard at work today, and had gotten
back to him with corrections right after he faxed the finished first draft. Her
expression is too masculine-- soften her features a bit more, make her smile
less forced, she looks mad, her shoulders are a bit broad.
 
However, overall the editor was thrilled. “This is hitting all the right spots,
Kishibe-sensei!” he praised lavishly over the phone, “We are all very excited
to see the finished product-- you’ve been really on top of everything recently,
and the quality is exceptional.”
 
Rohan allowed himself to be complimented a little more before he excused
himself to go back to working on the illustration.
 
“Yes of course! Please, continue-- what’s the secret to your sudden boost in
creativity and productivity, though? Maybe we can use it as a kick in the pants
to everyone else in the company,” his editor said with a hearty laugh. Rohan
returned the laugh-- that’s what normal people do when others laugh, right?-
- and coyly whispered, “It’s a secret.”
 
He sat back at his desk and stretched. Time to tackle this round of revisions.
 
“Rohan, so I’m at Act Seven, which is near the end of the third arc, and it’s
like… waaaay off.”
 
“What?!” Practically throwing his chair to the side in his rush, Rohan was
suddenly at Josuke’s side on the couch, fuming.
 
“Shit dude! Don’t scare me like that-- okay, so see here,” yanking the
headphone cord out of the audio port, Josuke turned up the volume so Rohan
could enjoy the Full Experience of the trainwreck that was about to unfold in
the game. Josuke leaned towards the man, tapping at the screen with his finger
as Rohan squeezed in close to squint angrily into the dimly lit, 160x144 pixel
screen, “I think they couldn’t figure out how to properly depict the haunting,
so they just totally butchered it.”
 
“God, I knew this would happen-- my work is too complex for an adaptation! It
has to come straight from me, not someone else.” Tiredly, Rohan rubbed his
forehead-- pushing his headband off. This was a disaster-- they absolutely
could not let the publishing company release something like this, it would
sully Rohan's good name by association.
 
“Yeah, I feel ya-- a lot of crazy stuff was happening during the final
haunting, and I think they gave up on trying to make it work as a video game.
See, look--”
 
“That’s totally off! Not even close-- the dialogue is wrong, the perp is wrong-
- this is an insult!”
 
“Totally! This is just-- I know I said some good things earlier, but I think I
gotta take it back. It’s that bad. Okay, and that’s not even the worst part,
check what happens to-- oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to elbow ya. Yer just sitting
really close. Okay, so check out what happens here…”
 
Josuke’s body was really warm.
 
 
He was so warm, and tightly pressed against him, that Rohan’s mind went blank.
 
Wait, what?
 
Rohan realized that he was basically pushing Josuke into the arm of the couch
with the fluffy pillow crushed beneath him under the now crumbled dress. He had
thrown his arms around the talkative teen in his rush to push himself towards
the tiny Gameboy Color screen. Josuke was still detailing the many
discrepancies between the game and the manga, while Rohan, gulping, saw that he
had pinned his young model between his arms.
 
Slowly, he let his eyes ease down-- he could see a lot of thigh, surprisingly.
Rohan’s pushing and shoving had bumped the garter off the leg that was supposed
to be covered, and the dress had bunched up too, petticoat and all.
 
Damn, he still couldn’t see what Josuke was wearing underneath though.
 
He wanted to know.
 
He really, really wanted to know.
 
What the fuck had Josuke done to him?
 
First, he would need to fix the hot mess in front of him though.
 
Before processing what he was doing, Rohan had grabbed Josuke by the thighs and
positioned them onto his lap. His hands shook as he rolled the stocking back up
firmly, and grabbed the loose garter.
 
The save file confirm sound beeped, and Rohan looked up at Josuke’s openly
panicked expression.
 
“U-uh, reflex. I always save when I feel like I'm in dang-- well, um, what are
ya…?” attempted the alarmed teenager, as Rohan’s hands stayed on his legs.
 
This wasn’t right. This wasn’t normal, was it? The garter was still in his
hand, unhooked.
 
“You!” shouted Rohan.
 
“Y-yes!” shouted Josuke in return, shoulders twitching.
 
“You should shave your legs! The light, uh, doesn’t hit your legs right,” he
pushed the petticoat up and gestured up and down Josuke’s skin above the
stockings. Truth be told, Josuke had an average amount of hair on his muscular
thighs-- the excuse was total bullshit, but--
 
“Uhhh, okay?”
 
Thank god, he accepted it.
 
“You should go shave-- right now. I just got revisions back-- when I’m done,
I’ll need to do some detail work. So the lace, a-and stuff like that. I don’t
need you to pose anymore, though. I just need you in the dress for specific
touch-ups.”
 
Josuke nodded, desperate to get out of the awkward situation. He stood up and
started undressing right away, and Rohan cheered inwardly as Josuke fumbled the
zipper down his back in his rush to change out. The dress came off, and Rohan
finally, blessedly saw.
 
It was boxer briefs. They weren’t pink like last time, but were purple.
 
He felt a surge of relief, but also a bit of disappointment somehow.
 
“Okay, I’ll, uh, go use the guest room-- I know where the razors are.” The
entire outfit-- garters and stockings-- were left in a neat, folded pile on the
arm of the couch by Josuke after he careened out of the work room.
 
Slam!
 
The downstairs guest bathroom door was shut, and Rohan could hear it lock.
 
Shit-- what the hell was wrong with him? His entire body felt like it was on
fire-- earlier he had shoved Josuke into a costume, felt him up, made fun of
Josuke for reacting to it, then stared him up and down and reacted to Josuke
himself, and now he had coerced Josuke out of the costume after pinning him to
the couch. And yet, he couldn’t stop himself--
 
Bolting down the stairs, Rohan hollered, “Josuke, if you’re going to be
shaving, you might as well shave everything!” He knocked on the door, “Josuke!
Did you hear me? You should shower too-- you were sweating a lot earlier under
the lights!”
 
“Yes, I heard ya-- geez! Use cooler lights if you don’t want me sweatin' all
over yer shit, it doesn’t have to be that high of a wattage!” The exasperation
was apparent in Josuke’s voice.
 
“Yes it does! It has to accurately look like the morning sun! I know what I
want, so go shower!”
 
Josuke pointedly turned on the shower at full-blast, drowning out Rohan's
voice.
 
Breathing a sigh of relief, Rohan ran a hand across his forehead again,
tiredly. Before he could stalk upstairs and collapse on his floor, the landline
rang noisily throughout the house-- luckily, he had a phone in the entrance
hall on the first floor. The caller ID said, “Editor.” Shit, that meant he had
to answer. Emotionally spent, Rohan prepared himself a few moments before he
picked up the phone.
 
“Kishibe-sensei! Sorry to call again so soon, but we ran your illustration by a
different group in the office and they said that you should tossle the hair a
bit more so that it really gives the effect of, ‘She just woke up and is
diligently getting ready for work!’ By the way, I know you’re really on a roll
with work recently but I know you also hate interviews-- however, as your
editor I do have to remind you of your schedule sometimes. Please remember to
submit your interview answers by Friday. You’ve been denying interviews for a
long time, but we really gotta publish this one-- we’ll use parts of it for
promoting the game when it comes out this Fall, okay? So please, sensei, we’d
really appreciate it. Once again, great work! We absolutely can not thank you
enough.”
 
Shit, shit, shit-- Rohan’s voice cracked as the storm of emotions raged inside
of him. “Yes, okay-- alright, I need to go.”
 
“Sorry, and thank you! Keep up the good work. Have a good night.”
 
He hung up and screamed into his fists. Fuck-- shit!
 
On one hand, this was all great news-- everything was getting turned in not
only on time but also ahead of schedule, and he’s heard nothing but good news
from the publishers. However, he couldn’t even enjoy the praise-- it all
cemented that he needed to keep Josuke if he wanted to keep producing high
caliber work at this pace. Rohan’s manga needed to be the best it could be-
- and to be honest, the current circumstances were pretty great, other than the
fact that he wanted to--
 
Wanted to what?
 
What did he want to do to Josuke?
 
“Josuke! Josuke, don’t gel your hair when you’re done, you hear me? I need your
hair down! Keep it down!”
 
Bam bam bam!
 
Rohan frantically knocked on the door, hoping that Josuke could hear him over
the pitter patter of the shower.
 
“What? Nooooo! I look stupid with my hair down!” came the muffled response.
 
“Just don’t do it! I need it down!”
 
The shower was still noisily running, so Rohan desperately pressed his ear
against the door to try to hear if Josuke had said anything. Nothing.
 
“Josuke, I’ll pay you extra to keep your hair down, so keep it down!”
 
A groan.
 
“Fiiiiiine.”
 
---
 
“I look dumb,” pouted Josuke, hot and steamy from the shower. Rohan looked up
from his corrected illustration and instantly regretted looking.
 
Josuke’s long bangs that made up his pompadour were mostly smoothed behind his
ears, but stray portions of hair were stuck wetly to the front of his face. He
had a towel wrapped around his body-- and god, that body. Josuke’s perfect
body-- now spotted red from the hot shower, and hairless everywhere. Struck
again with both jealousy and admiration, Rohan couldn’t help eyeballing the
tight muscles of Josuke’s tall, strikingly attractive figure. He wanted to both
punch Josuke in the face for looking so good, but also run his hands across
Josuke's chiseled stomach. The sheen of moisture on his chest, the defined cuts
around his hips, and the way his biceps and triceps flexed as Josuke picked up
the folded up maid costume-- huh?!
 
“I’m gonna change downstairs, I feel really self-conscious right now,” mumbled
Josuke, brushing the bangs out of his face dejectedly. He shuffled away with
the bundle of clothes after tucking something away into his duffel.
 
After he was out of earshot, Rohan crept over to the duffle and opened it.
 
The purple boxer briefs were crumbled into a tight ball.
 
What was Josuke going to wear under the dress now, then?!
 
 
 
Fuck. Indignantly, Rohan reached down and grabbed himself through his pants. He
was really, really hard-- and mad.
***** Chapter 6 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm trying to write faster when I have the time. By the way, it's
     Sunday again! Or at least it was five minutes ago. We have another
     episode of Closet Talk out if you want to watch it:
     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKEKdNQu3MM
After Rohan had finished zipping Josuke’s duffel back and screaming into his
fists some more, he planted himself into his work chair with the palm of his
hands pressed against his closed eyes. This couldn’t be happening to him. It
didn’t make any sense. He chewed his lower lip as he willed his erection to go
away. Rohan, the Handsome, Successful, Famous Manga Artist was surely a prime
target for any human being with taste to develop a crush on.
 
It was impossible to overlook Josuke’s blush that burned all the way to the
tips of his ears, and Rohan had been drinking in all of Josuke’s brief,
lingering looks these past few days. He was used to this kind of attention. His
fan letters often included love confessions, and he’s even met fans at
publicity events who would faint at the sight of him.
 
Being showered with affection and adoration was not only normal to him, but
expected. Such was the life of Rohan-- he was untouchable, infallible,
irresistible to anyone with a functioning pair of eyes. It was only natural for
people to be attracted to him-- he was a perfect and entrancing being.
 
However, it was always someone else desiring him. Craving someone instead of
that someone worshipping him was completely new and uncharted territory for
him-- Rohan didn’t debase himself with carnal desires, and even during fleeting
flashes of lust he never had a target to focus on. He would deal with the
physical distraction immediately, focusing only on getting rid of the impulse
to jerk off, and be done with it.
 
His hand twitched as he considered palming himself off quickly, and he
shuddered-- remembering the way his fingers felt on the back of Josuke’s plush
thighs, so close to the edge of his boxer briefs--
 
“Rohan, couldja zip me up, please?”
 
The chair rattled as Rohan shot straight up, not facing Josuke. He glanced down
at himself-- good, his erection wasn’t too prominent, and Josuke was a stupid-
- though sneaky-- boy. He probably wouldn’t notice.
 
He was confronted with Josuke’s back again-- a familiar sight, though his
sunburn had healed up nicely over the past few days. Josuke held his long,
unstyled hair away from the back of his neck, and Rohan’s eyes dipped from
Josuke’s neck down to the zipper at the small of his back. Thank god, Josuke
wasn’t looking at him-- this would give more time for Rohan to calm his
physical excitement.
 
Plucking up the zipper, Rohan saw the garter belt sitting right above Josuke’s
hips briefly through the tulle of the petticoat, but the opening from the back
of the very fitted dress prevented him from seeing more. He zipped Josuke up
with an embittered click of his tongue, and then tied the edges of the ribbon
Josuke handed to him from the apron.
 
“Thanks.”
 
Josuke walked to the couch, unhooked garters bouncing on his legs noisily, and
sat down-- he had the stockings tucked into the pockets of his apron.
 
“Almost ready-- just trying to get these frickin' socks on. My legs are still
kinda damp so it’s really stupidly hard,” grunted Josuke as he tried to yank
the socks up. They bunched stubbornly around his legs, clinging to the wetted
skin.
 
Rohan’s hands itched-- he wanted to lay his hands onto Josuke’s hot and steamy
skin, and help guide the socks up. It would be his third time putting Josuke’s
garters on today.
 
He tightened his crossed arms and bit his lip, considering it.
 
Seating himself back into his work chair, Rohan concluded outloud more to
himself than Josuke, “Take your time-- I can continue preparing the other parts
by myself for now.”
 
Rohan tried to ignore the sounds of Josuke struggling on the couch-- fabric
gently rustling as he rocked back and forth, grunting irritably at the socks as
they slowly, stutteringly stretched their way up his legs. The dress was
already getting a bit wrinkled, but it wasn’t too bad-- Rohan bit back the urge
to yell at Josuke about it. There was still work to do-- it was about 3:30PM
now, so if he finished his revision of the pencil sketch before his editor went
home for the night then he may be able to start inking after Josuke left.
 
After inking, he would need to fax the draft again to his editor-- it’ll be the
last check before the final push to finish the complete illustration with
colors. With his current pace, he would be able to fax the inks in the morning
or early afternoon, and tackle the interview that was due in two days. His
trusty editor was great in regards to turnaround times, so he could color the
illustration after the interview was done. Then his responsibilities for the
illustration would be met, and he could move onto his other to-do’s. The
illustration would be up to the graphic design department to fashion for
covers, merchandise, ads, and so on.
 
Leaning over from the front of Rohan’s table, Josuke stuck his lips out
curiously.
 
“So what are we doing now?”
 
Sitting back-- Rohan had managed to completely lose his erection when he was
musing about his work-- he gestured at the partially cleaned drawing for Josuke
to inspect. “The editor said to work on the hair some more-- after that, I need
to draw in all the individual folds of the lace and ruffles, which is a pain to
do without reference.”
 
Josuke nodded attentively, which made his damp bangs flop on his face. The
headdress was clipped on haphazardly, and looked like it might fall off.
 
“They want it tossled, like this--” Rohan’s hand hesitated-- touch him, it’s
necessary for the manga, he reaffirmed-- before he ran his fingers through
Josuke’s bangs lightly. The tall teen leaned down more to grant Rohan better
access to his freshly washed hair. The manga artist combed his fingers through
this way and that-- parting the damp sections and pulling the long strands out
from behind Josuke’s ears. With his free hand, he unclipped the headdress and
placed it on his desk before resuming stroking Josuke’s hair now with both
hands. The fine, wet hair felt nice between his fingers, and Josuke had
obediently closed his eyes with a content, comfortable expression. It reminded
him of a dog being pet, and Rohan gave the teen’s floppy hair a few more
strokes than admittedly necessary before withdrawing his fingers and clipping
the headdress back on.
 
This felt peaceful, which was nice-- better than being aroused and frustrated.
 
“Do you want me to go warm up the lights?” suggested Josuke as he stood up from
crouching over the desk.
 
“No, that’s okay-- I don’t need you to pose, just grab a stool or something and
sit in front of me-- I just need to ask you to hold the dress in certain ways
for me, and later reference how your hair looks after it’s dried a bit more.
You might as well continue reviewing the game.”
 
“Oh yeah! Right, I was on that shitty ending,” chirped Josuke as he trotted
across the workroom in his sock-covered feet to get his things.
 
---
 
Regardless of the peaceful atmosphere-- Rohan studied Josuke’s distracted face
as the teen tried to piece together clues for the investigation in the tenth
chapter-- he didn’t necessarily want to repeat the song and dance he did
earlier to hide a boner from Josuke. He had finished detailing the lace edges
of the sleeves and dress and was almost done with the revised hair. Josuke was
enjoying sitting again after having alternated between standing and sitting
repeatedly for Rohan to study all the ruffles and folds of the delicate lace
patterns that trimmed the pretty outfit.
 
He didn’t want to let up on his pace though-- maybe, he could find some kind of
compromise for his own sanity.
 
“Josuke,” said Rohan as he peeled one of the headphones off of Josuke’s ear,
“You get bored when you’re here right?”
 
Quickly saving the game, Josuke sat up on the stool as he shrugged the
headphones onto his shoulders. “Yeah, it can get pretty boring-- this video
game helps a lot, though.”
 
“Well, I know I said previously that drawing from life is best-- but a manga
artist of my caliber can also do pretty well with photos when it comes to
illustrations. Unlike with the manga, where I don’t know how the writing will
change so I need to have you with me while I work, the illustration goes
through a pretty straightforward process where the image doesn’t change much-
- so when I’m doing illustrations, you can model and I’ll take a lot of photos
to use instead of you having to wait around.” These were all pretty reasonable
suggestions, right?
 
Apparently not, judging by the way Josuke’s face twisted up, unconvinced of
Rohan’s good intentions.
 
“What? No way! That sounds totally shady.”
 
“What’s so shady about it?”
 
“How do I know yer not just trying to pay me less by having me be here less-
- or that ya won’t just blackmail me with the photos later?”
 
Rohan placed a hand over his chest, offended-- his other hand continued
blocking in the highlights for the hair. “Are you accusing me of being stingy
and untrustworthy?”
 
“I mean, isn’t that how it seems? Yeah, I get bored-- but as long as I can find
something to do-- I’ll be okay. Like, we haven’t eaten at all yet. I can cook!
That’s not boring. Are you done with me for now so I can make us some lunch-
- or dinner, I guess, since it’s getting late?”
 
“Don’t you want to spend time with your gang of rowdy friends or something?”
 
Josuke turned off the Gameboy Color and placed it on the table, frowning
deeply.
 
“Why are you trying to get rid of me, Rohan?”
 
Rohan mirrored the gesture, placing his pencil down and pushing his drawing to
the side.
 
“I’m not!”
 
“Yes, you are! Are ya done with me modelling right now or not?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“Great, I’m going to make us something to eat. I think maybe we’re both moody
because we haven’t eaten yet.”
 
Josuke hopped off the stool and started stripping, right in front of the desk.
 
“W-what are you doing?” Rohan pressed a fist against his lips, hoping that
Josuke didn’t hear his stutter from the way he instinctively swallowed at
Josuke undoing the dress clasp. The miffed teen unzipped and peeled the dress
and loosened apron off-- his bared chest right in front of Rohan.
 
“Didnt'cha say not to get the dress dirty? I’m gonna cook-- so I can't wear
this when I cook, or else it's gonna get dirty,” growled Josuke as he stepped
out of the petticoat and dress in one motion, then hung up the maid outfit onto
a hanger by the closet.
 
Rohan watched him walk away-- Josuke had left the garters and stockings on, and
was wearing...
 
A different pair of boxer briefs?!
 
 
 
This time, they were green-- Rohan’s favorite color. Why didn’t he realize that
Josuke would pack more than one pair of underwear? Josuke had, after all,
showered before at Rohan’s-- it would make sense for him to be prepared. The
disappointment set in again, and Rohan growled at his growing frustration.
 
Rohan faxed the revised draft, and then locked himself into his restroom.
 
---
 
“Eat,” commanded Josuke around 5:00PM. He had spread out an old blanket he had
found onto the floor and placed down several heavy bowls of food he had on a
tray. “I know ya don’t use yer dining table and I haven’t seen ya eat anywhere
outside of yer workroom, so we’ll eat here.” The considerate-- but still irked
teen-- shot him an exasperated look when Rohan didn’t get up immediately after
being told to eat.
 
Josuke had a new apron on-- not from the maid costume, but an unused kitchen
apron that had been hanging on the inside of the kitchen pantry ever since
it had arrived in the house. It was gifted to Rohan, but since Rohan rarely ate
anything beyond instant noodles, he had no need for it. It was very different
from the pretty, lacey thing that Josuke had worn all day-- the apron was
basically a rectangle of oilcloth material fastened to his body with two
strings around his waist and two around the back of his neck.
 
Somehow, it seemed like a damn shame that Josuke’s nice figure was covered by
such an unflattering swath of stiff fabric-- Rohan shook his head, he had just
finished taking care of his problem in time to pick up his editor’s feedback
call, but he wasn’t sure if his quick stint in the restroom had helped.
 
“I didn’t want to get oil splashed on me while making the eggs,” mumbled Josuke
around a big bite of hot food. Rohan picked up his bowl of rice without comment
and mumbled his “thanks for the food” before he tried some of the rolled eggs.
Popping it into his mouth, he considered the taste-- it could probably use a
bit more sugar, but was still tasty.
 
“It’s good.”
 
“Mmmhmmm. Sure is.”
 
Silence, other than the clinking of dinnerware.
 
“You’re lucky that I have all the blinds and shutters closed in my house-- or
else people would have seen you walking around the house like that.”
 
“Yer problem-- not mine-- if that happens,” chided Josuke-- he stuck his tongue
out, and then shifted on the blanket. Josuke rested his elbow on the knee of
his propped out leg, the other leg tucked under his thigh as he took a deep
drink of ice water.
 
Josuke’s adam’s apple bounced as he threw his head back, drinking deeply, and
Rohan looked at the muscles in his thick neck.
 
Now he was really sure that he wasn’t any less horny after rubbing one out. The
heat started to spread throughout his body, and Rohan thought that he needed to
get a tall drink of water soon too.
 
Josuke reached over towards Rohan to grab some of the cold dishes he bought
from the market closer to him, and Rohan saw a glimpse of his nipple when the
apron fell forward from the movement. Couldn’t the brat tighten the apron some
more? There was no reason for it to drape so loosely from his tight, defined
body--
 
So fucking distracting.
 
“... After you are done eating, you can go home tonight. Don’t look at me like
that, I’m not kicking you out-- I’m just going to be inking for the next few
hours, and my pencils are clean enough that I don’t have to keep you late for
once for more referencing.” Rohan took a few more bites of the food, dodging
Josuke’s bright purple eyes. Rohan’s eyes glanced shortly at the stocking-
covered thighs within arm’s reach in front of him before going back to his food
bowl.
 
Raising an eyebrow at him, Josuke stopped eating to lean forward and squinted
doubtfully at Rohan.
 
He could see his chest again-- Rohan placed his bowl onto the floor and ran a
hand down his face, worn out, and proposed, “Are you worried about your job
security or something? Jesus Christ-- come tomorrow at 10:00AM, okay?! My
editor asked me about the game today, so the sooner you get that done the
better. I also need you to help me with an interview.”
 
The teen smiled when Rohan said “need,” and sat back to eat with a knowing
raised brow.
 
Rohan crossed his legs and kept eating.
 
Josuke’s little game was going too far. He had to do something before things
got out of control.
 
---
 
“Koichi-kun, I need help,” gurgled Rohan over the phone as soon as Josuke had
shimmied out of the garters and gone home. From the background noise, Rohan
could hear the happy symphony of Koichi’s healthy home life-- his older sister
shushing their boisterous dog as it hungrily ran through the house, barking for
dinner scraps, Koichi’s parents asking Koichi if Rohan-sensei was calling him
again and if he would like to join them for dinner-- it was all so quaint and
lovely. Perfect manga material, which made it all the more sad that Rohan had
swore to stop sampling Koichi’s life for his manga with Heaven’s Door.
 
“Sure, Rohan-sensei, but can I call you back later please? I’m having dinner
with my family right now, so I--”
 
“No, Koichi-kun! This is more important than your family!” wheezed Rohan as he
stomped his feet in his empty house.
 
There was a clattering on the other line as Koichi scooped the landline off its
table and ran with it as far away from his family and the cord’s length would
allow. In a hushed whisper, Koichi quavered, “Oh my gosh! What’s going on? Is
it an enemy stand user?”
 
“No, it’s about my manga!”
 
Another loud racket could be heard-- Koichi had dropped the receiver (“Darn
it!”), scrabbled it back up to his ear, and gulped, “Your manga?”
 
“Yes! And Josuke--”
 
“Josuke?! What does Josuke have to do with your manga?” With each word, the
pitch of Koichi’s voice rose higher and higher as he worried over what may
possibly be happening with Rohan’s manga and Josuke that were more important
than his family. He audibly chewed his nails anxiously as he awaited Rohan’s
elaboration on what disaster was going to consume Morioh now.
 
“I think Josuke has a crush on me and is trying to seduce me. I’m flattered,
but he’s getting in the way of me working on my manga-- however, it’s more
complicated than that because he’s also helping me with my manga. So even
though he’s distracting me, I’m still getting work done faster than before,
and-- Koichi-kun?”
 
More clattering-- the sounds of Koichi’s family asking him to come eat before
the food gets cold got louder, meaning Koichi was returning the phone back to
where it came from.
 
Voice soft, Koichi explained sadly, “Rohan-sensei, please don’t ask me about
this. I really gotta go join my family now. I hope you are able to figure this
out.”
 
“Wait, Koichi-kun! I need you to help with me this, you’re my best fr--”
 
“Sorry Rohan-sensei, but I really can’t help you with this. I think you should
talk to an adult about this. Please, I gotta go. Have a good night.”
 
Click.
 
An adult? Who else in this small town was an adult that he respected?
 
---
 
When Dr. Kujo picked up the phone, he didn’t say anything and waited.
 
“Jotaro-san-- thank you for picking up the phone. I have a problem that I need
to discuss with you about your uncle, please. It’s very urgent.”
 
The intimidating man didn’t respond right away-- he took his time, as if he was
considering if this conversation was worthwhile. Eventually, he boomed, “What?”
 
“Josuke is in love with me, and he’s trying to seduce me.”
 
Jotaro exhaled loudly-- Rohan suspected that he had either scoffed with
amusement, or snorted with disbelief. He was a hard man to figure out.
 
“Sure. So?”
 
“I don’t think I can continue like this, he’s… very convincing.”
 
“I can’t imagine that my clumsy teenage uncle could have any success at
seducing an adult, Rohan-sensei.” Jotaro shifted the receiver from his hand to
his shoulder, and Rohan could hear him typing away. Dr. Kujo was finishing up
another article about the starfish in Morioh-- he was scheduled to return to
wherever it is he had washed up from in a few short weeks.
 
“Well, he took me by surprise too. I’ve been having… accidents around him.”
 
Another large exhale of air-- was Dr. Kujo laughing? Did the large, muscular,
stern man of mystery who came to investigate Morioh on behalf of a secret
organization even laugh?
 
“Please, this is very serious.”
 
“Rohan-sensei, are you perhaps inexperienced with sex-- so much so that the
blundering antics of Josuke are actually interesting you?”
 
“Are you asking if I’m a virgin?”
 
Now Rohan was sure that Jotaro was toying with him too. Why were these Joestars
so frustrating to deal with?
 
“Maybe.” The deep rumble of Jotaro's amused (pissed off?) humming made the
hairs stand up on the back of his Rohan’s neck.
 
“Are you a virgin, Jotaro-san?”
 
“I don’t always tell people this out of fear for her safety, but I trust you
after your help with the Kira case. I have a daughter, Rohan-sensei. Does that
answer your question?”
 
Unsure of how to respond, Rohan impatiently huffed, “Jotaro-san, I really don’t
understand why you are asking me about whether or not I've had sex before! I’m
reaching out to you so that you can please help me take care of this physical
ailment I am suffering because of your horny uncle.”
 
This time, he was sure that Jotaro had laughed-- however brief the chuckle was-
- before he gloated his catchphrase (“good grief”). Rohan bristled, insulted,
but was cut off by Jotaro before he could object to being mocked like this.
 
“I believe that you are pent up, and thus need to gain some sexual experience
in order to release some of your frustration. Please look into that in a
healthy way, and do not call me about this matter again. Good night.”
 
Click.
 
The Great Manga Artist Rohan Kishibe was hung up on again the second time that
night. At a loss, Rohan paced his entrance hall-- how could he take care of
this, then? He had already tried relieving himself in the restroom twice now.
When doing so, he had moved his hands up and down and willed away any thoughts
of Josuke, panties, and garters-- instead, he forced his mind to be as blank as
possible, making sure he concentrated only on the physical sensation to get it
over with as fast and efficiently as possible. Perhaps he needed to embrace his
imagination then-- maybe that would be more satisfying than just jerking off
mindlessly, and would dilute the lust that was polluting his system.
 
Manga was always the answer. It hasn’t failed him before, after all.
 
He grabbed his satchel, a light jacket, and checked himself in the mirror. It
was time for him to leave the house-- he needed to buy hentai.
***** Chapter 7 *****
Chapter Notes
     Sleepy.
Legs hoisted up over the back of the couch, Josuke was the very image of
“totally too comfortable to have noticed that something has been Very Wrong
with Rohan Kishibe as of late.” At least, that’s what Rohan hoped as he turned
back to coloring the large illustration. The loose shorts on Josuke had
collected at the junction between his thighs and hips from the way the teenager
had haphazardly splayed himself out onto the couch, and it was an increasingly
distracting sight.
 
The troubled man flicked his head left and right before steeling himself to
only thinking about work. He threw out his slender hands and gave his fingers a
few tugs and stretches, then slipped his white glove back onto his right-hand
before he resumed laying down the base colors for the illustration. As the
alcohol dried-- sealing the marker’s colors into the thick illustration board-
- Rohan thumbed a page off of his daily calendar.
 
Yesterday, he jacked off to Josuke twice and then bought porn. Today, Josuke
came back to him at 10:00AM sharp, as he had requested, none the wiser (he
hoped). He discarded each page of his calendar that he hadn't tossed out since
he started binging on work again-- the daily calendar consisted of pleasant
photos of the European countryside, reminding him of his college days. Simpler
times.
 
When the teen had arrived that morning on time per usual, Josuke had paused at
the door frame of Rohan’s work room, hand hesitating on the edge of it.
 
Curiously, he had told Rohan that if he was going to get kicked out again, he
might as well stop showing up completely. While Josuke may had only been
fishing for affirmation, Rohan had relented-- hopefully without sounding too
desperate for Josuke’s company-- and insisted that he wanted to make good use
of Josuke’s shaved body before he became stubbly again so please, for the love
of god, just work for him properly again.
 
He didn’t know how to deal with petty children any better than he knew how to
deal with Josuke’s crush on him, so for now he gave into his desires to keep
Josuke near him. It was kind of like holding his own leash-- he didn’t want to
masturbate to Josuke, which was only something he could do when alone. So if he
made sure Josuke was always with him, then he wouldn’t be able to masturbate.
Perfect plan.
 
Also, he hoped that overexposure to Josuke’s lean body, plush lips, and
charmingly droopy eyes would make him numb to the teen’s alluring features-
- enough so that the sickeningly gooey, warm sensations bubbling up from the
pits of his belly whenever Josuke so much as looked at Rohan would go away.
 
Josuke’s crush on Rohan was so inconvenient, lamented the tired and long
suffering artist. The teen hovered at the door still, twisting his hands around
nervously like a puppy waiting to be let in.
 
“Well? Stop standing there like an idiot, Josuke.”
 
Josuke then had smiled brightly-- with a brief, ominous twitch of his lips
hinting at how pleased he was to coax Rohan into saying such embarrassing
things ("I need you," "stay," "come back")-- before he set his duffel down at
the couch and picked up where he had left off with the Pink Dark Boy game.
Rohan’s insistence on needing Josuke around wasn’t an apology, but it was good
enough for now, probably.
 
Somehow, they got by without incident-- once he got Josuke back into the maid
costume, Rohan was relieved to find that the shock and novelty of seeing Josuke
dressed up in such a flattering, fetish-y outfit and posing lewdly for him was
starting to wane (just has he had hoped), resulting in no accidental erections.
Perhaps the hentai had helped after all, even though he had fallen asleep out
of boredom when he finally forced himself to stop dissecting the storytelling
techniques of the authors to look at the pornographic content.
 
Every now and then-- like when Josuke would lick his lower lip, causing the wet
sheen of his lips to catch the light of the hot lamps-- Rohan would find that
his eyes would heatedly wander again. However, he was able to catch himself and
tear his eyes away so that he could focus on tackling the complicated
highlights and shadows around the human knee-- a joint made up of only three
bones yet highly perplexing in its structure due to the numerous connective
tissues around and attached to it. Work, Rohan, work.
 
---
 
“Rohan-- are ya done with the outfit fer today?” asked Josuke as he relaxed a
bit. They had managed a solid two hours of drawing-- Rohan had just finished
taking his time color matching the specific color and patterns of the lovely
heels set off to the edge of the illustration. From what Josuke could see from
over Rohan’s shoulder. the shoes were the last of the illustration’s base
colors.
 
“Yes. Go ahead and take the dress off and hang it up so it can air out. I’ll
wash and iron it later.” He made sure to keep his eyes off of Josuke-- Rohan
worried that if Josuke saw him staring, he would see the lustful intent in his
eyes. He was being kind to the child-- Josuke would be even more heartbroken if
he thought he had a chance with Rohan, so the least he could do as a
responsible adult would be to find a way to let the teen down easily. That
would be most benevolent. How in fact he would achieve such a resolution was
still a work-in-progress for Rohan.
 
“I know how to wash and iron clothes-- I take care of my own wardrobe at home.”
He could hear the pout in Josuke’s voice-- in fact, he could see the way
Josuke’s face scrunched up with dissatisfaction clearly in his head. Think
about your work-- not the sad puppy child who is in love with you, Rohan
scolded himself. When the sounds of clothes being removed and hung up ceased
and Josuke zipped up his duffel, Rohan waited briefly before he turned around
to suggest with a wave, “Are you that desperate for more chores? Fine, then you
may launder and iron it for me. Save me the trouble.”
 
The teen fixed the crew neck of his t-shirt and smoothed out the baggy shorts
he wore. The stockings were gone-- instead, he had on ankle socks that looked
pretty worn out.
 
“Yer welcome in advance, then. Anyway, I’ll be in the house still-- just gonna
make some lunch.”
 
“Mmm.”
 
---
 
Not even fifteen minutes later, Josuke skipped back into the work room until he
was standing behind the bent over manga artist with an expectant air. Sensing
danger, the older man felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He
stopped shading.
 
“Roooohan,” the teen cooed cheekily, “Look what I found!”
 
Josuke placed the dirtiest looking manga of the batch Rohan had purchased last
night onto the work table, to the left of Rohan’s illustration. The cover was
of a woman in a nurse outfit, climbing onto the body of her patient as she
licked her lips hungrily. Her hands were tightly fisted into the hospital gown
and there were hearts in her eyes-- she was the very image of a carnivorous
woman as she sized up her prey with killing intent. The decorative clear dust
jacket on top of the cover was strategically covered in some spots, hiding all
of the sticky details with playful pink hearts printed on it.
 
The teen bounced in place, excitedly, waiting for Rohan’s reaction.
 
He held his breath as Rohan spun back around in his chair slowly after picking
up the manga. Rohan held it open in front of Josuke with his gloved hand.
 
“This is a good artist-- I met Suzuki-sensei at a multi-company publicity event
previously. Their wife said their son was a big fan of my work.” Coolly, Rohan
paused at a particularly raunchy page of the main character receiving oral sex
and pointed at the background, “I particularly enjoy this brand of screentones
they use-- I’ve been considering buying that exact pattern, so it’s nice to see
it in action.”
 
Josuke sulked immediately. “Well, yer no fun.”
 
“Did you think that I, an Adult and also a Famous Manga Artist, would be
embarrassed about owning erotica by his peers? You are truly a child, Josuke!”
Rohan punctuated his haughty proclamation by waving the pornography on each
beat of his words, until Josuke snatched the book out of his hand and put it
back into the stack he had under his arm.
 
Muttering, Josuke looked away disappointedly, “Whatever-- it’s still pretty
weird that the only porn I’ve found in yer house is manga, though. Not that I
was looking.” Josuke set the pile down near the couch to be filed into a
bookshelf later-- first, he would have to make room in one of the many shelves-
- and picked up a random book halfway through the stack to fan open. “Don’t you
have anything with real people? Or can you only get off to cartoons?” he sassed
even though Rohan had gone back to coloring.
 
“You make it sound like it’s weird to be aroused by the dramatic, passionate
depictions of sexual activities that have been masterfully composed by
hardworking manga artists.”
 
“It is weird-- it’s still not real people. That’s boring. It’s not realistic at
all.”
 
“Have you not read hentai manga before? Because it’s not just basic, surface-
deep photos or videos of people having sex like animals-- to be gaped at
stupidly like specimens at a zoo-- it’s better. It's art. It really digs deep
because it captures every little powerful but thrilling detail when making
love. It doesn’t have to be realistic-- it just has to be captivating!” proudly
explained Rohan, clenching his fist in his left hand for emphasis briefly.
 
There was absolutely nothing wrong with owning hentai manga, right? The
diligent manga artists had succeeded in transforming a carnal, human activity
into a graphical masterpiece to be appreciated and coveted. Rohan Kishibe was
not a pervert, but a connoisseur!
 
Josuke didn’t respond-- but Rohan could hear him flipping through the pages
behind him.
 
“Go ahead, read one-- read them all, if you’d like, and tell me what you think.
You can stay on the clock for it.” He twisted around in his chair with his arm
propped on the back of it to fix Josuke in place with a challenging glint in
his eye. Rohan had not blindly picked up whatever dirty book he could find last
night-- he specifically sought out only work from his contemporaries that he
respected. While he had been bored by their erotic stories, surely a teenager
such as Josuke would be affected by at least one of the finely drawn sexual
escapades in the many books.
 
If Josuke felt something-- anything-- from the hentai, that would prove that
Rohan was normal for owning drawn pornography instead of adult photo books and
videos.
 
“I’ll p-pass,” Josuke’s brief stutter did not go unnoticed by Rohan, who was
searching him like a sharp-eyed hawk for any physical effect from the hentai.
He placed the book back onto the stack, lewd cover face down, and stepped away
from the pile. “I got things to do-- I only stopped to tidy up because the rice
was cooking.”
 
“Anytime, Josuke! I implore you-- give the manga a chance. You can stay on the
clock and still get paid. Think of it as a cultural education for a nearly
illiterate brute such as yourself who doesn’t appreciate the art of manga!”
yelled Rohan through cupped hands as the teen retreated back downstairs to
continue making lunch.
 
---
 
“Here’s a print-out of the questions and a tape recorder-- interview me,”
commanded Rohan as soon as Josuke finished setting out their lunch spread on
the floor.
 
“Huh?” gaped Josuke as he wiped his hands off on his shorts-- the steam from
the hot soups he had set down made his hands clammy.
 
Rohan took his place on the ground, folding his legs neatly on top of each
other as he picked up his bowl of soup and sipped it. It was good-- which he
expected by now, to be honest. He continued after wetting his palette with a
second gulp, “I said yesterday that I needed you to help me with an interview-
- it’s more natural for me to respond this way. I haven’t read the questions
yet so it’ll be my honest answers. Just record what we talk about and write it
out later. You can do it when you’re done with the write-up for the game.”
 
“Man, I didn’t think I’d be doing this much writing during my summer break,”
snorted Josuke as he flipped through the print-out of the interview questions.
“I’ll do it, though. Seems fun.” Head down, Josuke read the questions in his
lap as he took bite after bite of their lunch-- rice, miso soup, pickled cold
vegetables, and cold tofu with soy sauce and chopped green onions. By the time
he was done, Rohan was resting with a hot cup of tea-- he didn’t eat nearly as
much as the large teenager, but he appreciated the brief break from work since
he was ahead of schedule. Josuke opened the battery shield and turned on the
recorder, then pressed the record button. After the red light blinked on, he
soundlessly mouthed out “three, two, one,” with hand movements to match, and
then--
 
“Testing, testing-- heeeeeello from Morioh! This is yer host, Josuke
Higashikata!” swaggered Josuke-- he held the compact recorder in his hand like
a mic, and laughed at himself. It was a nice recorder-- Rohan usually kept it
in his pocket to do things like archive the ambient noises of places he wanted
to use for manga reference. It replaced an older, but still decent, model he
had from his rookie days that had washed away in a river after being knocked
out of his hand during a typhoon he was trying to record the sounds of.
 
“Today we are interviewing the totally-not-an-old-pervert manga artist,
Rohaaaaan Kishibe! How are we doing today, Rohan-sensei?” he waggled his brows
and stuck the recorder expectantly into Rohan’s face. With a deadpan
expression, Rohan took another sip of his tea and stared back at him. Josuke
refused to budge though, forcing the older man to wrap his hand around
Josuke's hand and press the stop button on the recorder.
 
“You’re wasting the tape,” scolded Rohan, his grip tight on Josuke’s.
 
“Once again-- you’re no fun!” huffed the mischievous teen as he yanked back his
hand, eyeballing the recorder to inspect its remaining recording time.
 
“We’re working right now, Josuke. Not having fun.”
 
“Fine.” Squaring up his shoulders, Josuke smiled fakely-- professionally-
- again, and pressed the record button once more. “Question 1: What did you
think when the video game company approached you about a game?”
 
“I didn’t think anything-- they forced it on me. As of right now, all I’m
thinking is that I wish this abomination of a game didn’t exist.”
 
Josuke pressed stop on the recorder and leaned over to Rohan to worry, “I don’t
think that’s a good answer for a game that is coming out soon.”
 
“You are playing the game and know how awful it is-- confirming my lack of
faith in adaptations that are not creator-led-- tell me that what I said isn’t
true, if you really think what I said is so wrong.” He sat back confidently,
holding his emptied cup of tea out at the teen.
 
Reflexively, Josuke refilled the cup as he considered what Rohan had said.
 
“Okay, yeah, it’s deserved. Keep going, I guess.”
 
Record.
 
“Were you involved in the video game process?”
 
“Not at all, but that was by choice. I vehemently opposed this game, and had
hoped that refusing to work on the game would help prevent its development and
release. Yet here we are now-- I’ve been betrayed by my own publishing company,
as they worked on it with the developers instead.”
 
Josuke pressed stop before Rohan had finished speaking.
 
“Wait, now yer talking bad about your publisher-- is that really okay?”
 
“What can they do to me, the Great Manga Artist Rohan Kishibe? I am only
speaking the truth. Besides, there are many other companies that are already
begging for me to work for them instead. My publishers, while kind to me over
the years, deserve to be called out for sanctioning this shitty video game
without my permission.”
 
Once again, Josuke thought Rohan’s honest remarks over-- they were reasonable,
and Josuke did value personal integrity. He nodded and pressed record again.
 
“Question three, then. Er,” the teen paused and flipped to the second page,
then back to the front before asking, “Do ya mind if I just make up an answer
for this since you haven’t played the game? They want to know what was yer
favorite part of the game. We can skip this question for now.”
 
“Tell them that my favorite part of the game was when it ended, because then at
least the nightmare is over,” sneered Rohan with a twisted smirk. At that
remark, Josuke burst out laughing.
 
“It’s true-- I’m not done with it yet, but I can’t wait to be done. It’s
deviated so much from yer stuff at this point that it’s unrecognizable from the
source material. Oh, oops-- I forgot to press stop to save the tape.”
 
“It’s fine, keep going.” Rohan chuckled lightly and drank more of his tea. The
easygoing atmosphere felt nice. Sometimes he and Koichi would settle into a
mood like this, and they would chat pleasantly for a while about everything and
anything at a natural, soothing pace. He almost felt relaxed around Josuke-
- just almost. Still, this near-friendly experience was so foreign considering
Josuke’s mere presence made him bristle with irritation up until a few weeks
ago.
 
He was not opposed this kind of development though-- it was much more pleasant
at least than the lust-filled haze he went through last night. Thank god that
was past.
 
“Okay, um. Let’s see-- question four: do you think-- actually, fuck it. And I
mean it-- Fuck. This. Let’s just say ‘fuck it’ to all these questions about the
game, it’s not worth our breath.”
 
They both laughed openly this time, forcing Rohan to set his cup down so he
could press his hand over his mouth to hide his smile.
 
“I agree. Go ahead and just write ‘fuck it’ down for that when you do the
write-up. The editing department can do what they will with that. Please, go on
to the rest of the interview then.”
 
“Yeah, okay-- okay. That’s like fifteen questions we can skip-- great! So then
reader-submitted questions. These are pretty wild, actually.”
 
“They usually are. My readership is quite varied, despite how the manga is
supposed to be marketed towards young boys. The diversity in the fanbase shows
the widespread appeal of manga, and how universal the core elements of my work
are.”
 
“Alright, but still-- these are wild. Ready? The first one is--” peculiarly,
Josuke sucked in a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself for asking the
question, then chirped out in a sing-song voice, “Kishibe-sensei, do you have a
girlfriend? Because you’re so hot! So please, be my boyfriend!” The boisterous
teen balled his hands up and framed his face with them, batting his eyelashes
in what was probably meant as a youthfully attractive manner.
 
Rohan choked.
 
“That was the reader asking, not me, by the way,” clarified Josuke with a sly
look in his purple eyes as he handed Rohan a paper towel he had torn in half.
 
Dabbing the corner of his mouth, Rohan curtly responded, “No, I don’t have a
girlfriend. Next question.” He wanted to move on from this topic--
 
“Really? Then again, I’m not surprised.”
 
--Or maybe not.
 
“Wait, pause,” demanded Rohan-- hand clasped firmly over Josuke’s as he pressed
down the stop button again. “Why are you not surprised?”
 
Shrugging, Josuke pulled back and flipped absently through the printed
questions as he reasoned outloud, “Well, ya work all the time-- so I don’t
think ya could upkeep a relationship with that kind of lifestyle. Even when not
drawing, yer always working in some way or another-- out and about in town
taking reference photos, travelling for work conventions, and stuff like that.”
 
“True-- a respectable artist sacrifices all for their craft,” Rohan ran a hand
across his chin as he contemplated this. “However, I think that I, Rohan
Kishibe, would be able to balance a love life with my work life if I wanted to.
Frankly, I’m insulted that you would think that I wouldn’t be able to do that.”
 
“Eh. I dunno, I think if you were dating, the person you'd be dating would feel
neglected, or worse-- that they would feel like they’re less important than yer
manga.” Josuke flapped a hand at the sorry state a relationship would be if
like that. “Absolutely tragic.”
 
Without missing a beat, Rohan concluded straightforwardly, “Well, that goes
without saying-- nothing is more important than my manga.”
 
“Ouch, harsh.” Josuke cringed, rubbing his thigh awkwardly through the thin
fabric of his light shorts.
 
“What? It’s not like I’m dating you.”
 
“No, but I feel bad already for whomever ya do end up dating…” his voice
trailed off. Josuke's eyes scanned around at the empty bowls from their
finished lunch. “Let’s finish this interview later-- I should put everything
away, and yer illustration is due before the interview, right? I gotta put the
leftovers on the counter downstairs into the fridge for dinner anyway.”
 
Josuke quietly cleared away everything onto a tray, and left the recorder and
interview print-out in front of Rohan.
 
Rohan finished his tea while sitting on the hardwood floor-- it was cold now.
***** Chapter 8 *****
Chapter Notes
     If you've already read Chapter 7, please consider rereading it again
     since I went back and rewrote a lot of it! I was pretty sleepy
     yesterday, so I wanted to write another chapter today to make up for
     how little action there was in Chapter 7. I need to start updating
     the tags for this fic now to reflect all the sin that's going to
     happen.
     It's nothing but filth here on out, folks. Thank you for enjoying all
     of my carefully laid set-ups to the smut that the rest of this fic is
     going to be.
It was 2PM when Josuke ran out of things to do again. He had taken out the
trash, started a more complicated soup for dinner, dusted any surface he could
find, mowed the lawn, vacuumed the house, and watered the plants. There was
nothing else for him to do now except go back to the workroom to finish playing
the train wreck of a game adaptation that had started out so promising-- which
made it even more disappointing as Josuke tried to finish it.
 
Sighing, he toed the slightly closed door of Rohan’s work room open-- the door
was usually wide open. Josuke dabbed at his face with the cold, damp towel he
had been using to cool the back of his slightly sunburned neck-- he had sweated
off his sunblock when mowing the lawn-- and inspected the work room.
 
All was in order-- well, as much order as it could be, considering how often
Rohan would get up to grab inspiration books or other items from around the
room as he did his job-- except Rohan had put on the headphones he had
previously lent Josuke. The muted, scratchy sounds of the headphones could
clearly be heard from the door frame of the work room-- Rohan had the music up
much too loud, probably to overcompensate for the loud roar of the vacuum and
then lawnmower earlier.
 
Whatever, thought Josuke-- things were getting kind of awkward again anyway, so
it’s better for now that he didn’t have to force himself to talk to Rohan.
 
He limply dropped himself back into the familiar cushions of the couch, but his
wayward limbs knocked over the stack of books next to it-- “Shit!”
 
The hentai clattered onto the hardwood floor, splayed out in front of him.
Josuke wrapped the damp towel around the back of his neck and dried his hands
onto his shorts before he started picking up the books. The distant but sharp
high notes of whatever Rohan was listening to persisted-- the manga artist had
not looked up at the commotion. He wasn’t paying attention at all.
 
Once again, Josuke thought, Rohan’s utter devotion to manga was both endearing
and frightening.
 
He looked down at the books in his arms, and swallowed hard.
 
If Rohan was working like this, he probably wouldn’t look up for maybe an hour
or so-- that would be long enough to skim a couple of hentai books. Besides,
Rohan himself had been encouraging Josuke to look at the hentai-- maybe Josuke
could just get through a few of them so that he could prove to the manga artist
that the cartoon depictions were so out of touch with reality that normal
people could not possibly be able to get off to them.
 
Josuke licked his lips and quietly shrunk onto the couch, pulling his knees up
close to tuck under his chin as he opened the nurse book he had put on Rohan’s
desk earlier.
 
He’ll just quickly flip through a few-- maybe the whole stack if he read fast
enough-- so that he could flaunt his normalcy to Rohan.
 
There wasn’t much set-up to the plot, which Josuke appreciated actually. He
sometimes would tire of the long, awkward, drawn out sequences prior to porn.
If he was horny, he didn’t always have the attention span to sit through them-
- and would fast forward the VCR (Okuyasu had yelled at him the one time they
watched porn together when Josuke did that-- his best friend whined loudly,
complaining that he wanted a bit of romance to spice up the action later) until
he saw mosaic censors that indicated to him that the action was starting.
 
In the manga, the nurse was in love with the patient. The night before he was
discharged for recovering from a minor car accident-induced concussion, she
decided to give him Extra Service. Her outfit wasn’t that different from the
one Rohan had purchased in Josuke’s size-- short sleeves, very short one piece,
cute hat. She tenderly kissed her patient, promising him that she’ll go easy on
him so that he won’t end up being hospitalized again.
 
---
 
Josuke sucked in his lower lip and put the book down. That was more than just
skimming. He had finished reading the entire, smut-filled story. Surprisingly,
he was happy for her in the end-- the patient purposefully hurt himself so that
he would get admitted to the hospital again to see her, and they ended up going
out after that. It was kind of charming how the awkward, shy patient was unable
to convey his feelings to her, so he tried to see her through indirect means
after he had realized he had developed feelings for her.
 
Okay, he hadn’t meant to not only read the book but to also analyze it
fervently like that. Next story will be different, he told himself. The
nastiest cover yielded such a heartfelt story-- maybe the most nondescript
cover would be the opposite. He selected a manga with a mysteriously simple
cover called, “That’s a Secret,” where only the bottom half of a face is shown
on the cover. A pair of plush, shiny lips were pursed against a manicured hand-
- as if the unknown model for the cover was shushing the reader sensually.
 
It was just like what Josuke had done a few days ago when teasing Rohan about
his poor taste in erotica.
 
Consciously deciding to avoid further analyzing the similarities between recent
events with Rohan and the manga he had purchased, Josuke flipped the book open
in the middle to avoid becoming attached to any of the characters.
 
“Jackpot,” he whispered at the double-page spread of an intense makeout
session. This was pure smut-- it was so absolutely vulgar that-- that…
 
Josuke swallowed thickly, eyeing the way the protagonist played with the
woman’s breasts through her shirt as they kissed deeply. Slowly, Josuke turned
the page-- the man’s hands unzipped slits on the side of her shirt, giving him
access to her heaving bosom. The shirt kind of looked like Josuke’s usual
“fashion disaster” (as Rohan had disdainfully called it before) shirt that had
zippers running down the sides over his chest where his nipples were. Briefly,
he wondered how it would feel if someone played with his nipples through the
shirt-- would the cold bite of the zipper hurt or excite him? Absently, Josuke
ran a hand across his chest.
 
He put the book away on top of the nurse one and used his sock-covered foot to
push the stack of two away from him, then grabbed the next book from his unread
pile.
 
No way was he going to let hentai manga affect him-- he was going to make it
through the entire stack and rub it in Rohan’s face that he didn’t jack off to
the manga like Rohan did.
 
---
 
Seven more books later, Josuke realized he had his sweaty hand clamped over his
open mouth for god knows how long. He peeled his wet hand off and wiped his
mouth off with the back of his arm, embarrassed at how much he was sweating.
This time, the main character was finally getting through to the tsundere lead
he had been pining for-- she and him were childhood friends, but now that they
were parting for college he wanted her to know his feelings. He grinded against
her as she looked away sadly, moved by his declarations of love but still
hesitant to reciprocate the affection.
 
Josuke chewed his thumb as he turned the page, revealing the tsundere pushing
the protagonist down as she cried angrily while straddling him, yelling, “I
don’t want to fall even more in love with you if we’re just going to be
separated soon-- stupid, that’s why I didn’t want to--”
 
“So I see you’ve discovered Sato-sensei’s work-- isn’t the way she depicts
young love so fascinating?” smugly declared Rohan as he wound an arm around
Josuke’s shoulders to hold Josuke close in a mockingly chummy sort of way.
 
“Wh-what?” faltered Josuke-- his words failing him as his throat was dry from
his mouth hanging open for so long. Rohan pulled him in closer and plucked the
book out of his hand. He flipped to the next page and taunted lowly, “Look at
them-- so innocently in love, but their passion wrings so much lust out of them
due to the pain of separation-- here she’s gripping him so desperately because
she can’t bear to lose him, but despite this fleeting moment of connection they
will be torn apart regardless in only a few short weeks.”
 
Josuke was dizzy-- his heart was pounding, his body was hot, and his mind was a
haze as Rohan dissected the page in front of him with Josuke held tightly
against his side.
 
“Look at the expert way this author depicts the powerful thrusts-- each speed
line is drawn by hand with a ruler, and it looks like Sato-sensei carefully
drew each line with different widths to convey the jagged movements of his hips
as he sheaths himself in his lover’s body. This level of drama is impossible
with photos and videos. Don’t you agree, Josuke?”
 
Setting the book down on the arm of the chair, Rohan grabbed Josuke’s hot cheek
and pulled. “What’s wrong? So moved by the manga that you’re speechless? I
understand-- that is the effect that manga has on me, which is why I love it so
much. Though, this effect that you have here,” his voice dropped to a whisper-
- Rohan walked his fingers up Josuke’s inner thigh and spread his legs open.
He still maintained the tightness of his arm wrapped around Josuke in a way
that discouraged the frazzled young man from moving away from him.
 
“This part here,” Rohan hotly mouthed near Josuke’s ear as his fingers
continued walking the length of Josuke’s inner thigh-- nudging the thin shorts
down-- towards his poorly-concealed erection under his boxer briefs, “Doesn’t
usually happen to me.” He let his fingers pause at the exposed skin beneath the
edge of Josuke’s boxer briefs, drinking in the sounds and sight of a very
aroused Josuke worrying his bottom lip nervously, eyes searching Rohan’s face
with so many unsaid expectations.
 
He let go of Josuke suddenly with a light shove, sitting back with a smirk now
that he was done tormenting the baffled teen. Drunk off victory, Rohan flicked
his hair self-righteously.
 
“I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Josuke-- never doubt the refined tastes of
a cultured adult as great as I, Roha-- mmf!”
 
The back of Rohan’s head hit the arm of the chair, knocking the manga onto the
floor, as Josuke kissed him harshly. Rohan blinked, starry-eyed, as Josuke
pulled away. He was straddling Rohan and peering down at him-- Josuke’s sweat-
soaked hair had lost its shape, resulting in the long bangs framing his face
prettily as he gazed down at the manga artist with such sincere want in his
purple eyes that Rohan’s stomach immediately did a flip.
 
Fuck it.
 
Growling, Rohan fisted his hand in the back of Josuke’s hair and pulled him
down for another kiss-- Josuke responded in kind, biting at Rohan desperately
as he twisted his hands in Rohan’s white shirt and tugged it up until the
artist’s chest was bared. He lifted his own shirt, exposing his abs, and
pressed down between Rohan’s legs-- their hips and torsos flush against each
other, as they groaned together.
 
The couch squeaked against the hardwood floor as they grinded, Josuke panting
open mouthed against Rohan’s neck as the artist clawed at the teen’s back,
grunting from the firm presses of Josuke’s moving hips. The zipper of Rohan’s
tight white jeans hurt against the thin fabric of Josuke’s shorts and boxer
briefs, but judging by the muffled, hot whimpers against Rohan’s skin-- Josuke
didn’t seem to mind.
 
Rohan fumed-- everything was Josuke. The teen’s large, sweaty body was
plastered against him, and Josuke thrusted harshly as he moaned louder and
louder-- filling Rohan’s ears with only the sounds of the couch creaking and
the hot and bothered teenager dry humping him. This was never how he envisioned
his first time, bitterly thought Rohan-- so he impulsively snaked a hand in-
between their slippery, sweaty torsos and grabbed Josuke’s erection, hard.
 
“F-fuck!” screamed Josuke-- right in Rohan’s ear, he thought with a cringe-- as
he came suddenly. The fabric was wrapped so tight around his pulsing cock from
Rohan roughly fisting his orgasm out of him that the cum soaked the boxer
briefs and shorts, then dribbled onto Rohan’s flat stomach.
 
Josuke panted, open-mouthed, as his vision refocused. He saw Rohan, eyeing his
stained hand with an unreadable expression, the ejaculate pooling in Rohan’s
belly button, and the redness of Rohan’s kiss-bitten lips.
 
The teen’s hand shook as he wiped the cum out of Rohan’s belly button with the
hem of his t-shirt.
 
“So--”
 
As soon as Rohan opened his mouth, Josuke clambered off of him and bolted out
of the room. From the frenzied pitter patter and slam of the door, it sounded
like Josuke had scrambled into the guest bathroom. The sound of the pipes
squealing from the shower turning on confirmed his suspicions.
 
Rohan sat up and considered wiping his sticky hand off, but then thought better
and decided to not waste a good opportunity. He licked the quickly drying
remnants off his fingers, noted the flavor, aroma, consistency-- and smirked.

Josuke’s look of humiliation was too good. The teen clearly enjoyed getting off
from Rohan's talented hands, and Rohan was having a pretty good time himself
(which could not surprise anyone in the world more than it had surprised the
manga artist). He was going to need to investigate this further, for research.
***** Chapter 9 *****
Chapter Notes
     I fell asleep five times while writing this.
Fresh from the shower, Josuke lingered at the door again-- this time glaring
daggers at Rohan. The manga artist tossed him a self-satisfied grin over his
shoulder as he prepared to fax a copy of the illustration to his editor for
final proofs-- if all went well, he could overnight the illustration tomorrow
at the post office. Everything was beautiful and right in the world for Rohan
Kishibe. He was ahead of schedule when it came to almost all of his projects,
his lovely home was bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, and Josuke
Higashikata was half-naked in his workroom, dripping wet, and utterly
humiliated.
 
Josuke had towel dried his hair partially before he stomped up the stairs. He
stood there with his hands balled up into fists at his sides, and his bath
towel wrapped haphazardly around his canted hips.
 
“What’s wrong?” innocently asked Rohan as he pressed the familiar sequence of
keys on his fax machine.
 
“First of all, I don’t have a change of underwear. Second of all, yer enjoying
this way too much.”
 
“That’s not true,” began Rohan, as he ducked his head, amused. He straightened
himself up again before continuing, “There’s always the lacy lingerie set that
came with the garters.”
 
“Asshole.”
 
“What are you so mad for? It’s not my fault that you came before we got your
underwear off of you. And yes, I am enjoying this quite a bit.”
 
He heard Josuke stomp through the workroom to dig through his duffel to double
check for a clean pair of underwear-- then a muffled “dammit.” Josuke continued
to curse as he noisily tore through the work room closet. It didn’t matter how
messy Josuke made it, Rohan was sure that the soft-hearted teenager would tidy
up after himself when his temper tantrum passed. Rohan stifled a laugh as
Josuke growled on his way out, the sound continuing down the stairs into the
first floor where the bathroom door was slammed shut again.
 
The fax machine whirred as it completed sending the proof to his editor, and
Rohan sat back in his chair to admire the finished illustration. When he had
snuck up on Josuke, he had already finished the artwork. In reality, he had
actually taken his time watching Josuke from his chair. The teen had heatedly
sat in place, eyes wide and fixated intensely on the hentai manga in his rigid
grip. It was too good of a pose and expression for Rohan to not study it. Rohan
had sketched Josuke as he read his porn, biding his time to ensure that the
teen was thoroughly ensnared by the hentai before he went in for the kill.
 
Things did not always go according to plan-- but the outcome was a pleasant
surprise. Rohan had not expected Josuke to tackle him with a kiss after he was
done making fun of the teen for getting into the hentai manga. His plan was
only to tease Josuke mercilessly for doubting the captivating storytelling
ability of manga-- any manga-- and to let him sulk after that so that he may
learn from his mistakes. Seeing Josuke’s embarrassed face as he was dumbstruck
with shock from being caught in the act was so very, very satisfying.
 
Most satisfying of all though was later when Josuke was jerking in his hand,
whimpering as he came pathetically quick after only a few seconds of having the
great manga artist Rohan Kishibe’s hands on him. The rush that Rohan felt was
so immediate, so overwhelming, so good. He had never had sex, let alone kissed
anyone, but having the tall, bratty teen who regularly sassed him come undone
with just a few tugs was absolutely exhilarating. While initially annoyed at
Josuke’s irritatingly effective seduction techniques and the prospects of
having to turn the insistent, horny teenager down, Rohan thrummed with
excitement at these new possible opportunities that may be had from Josuke’s
thriving sex drive instead.
 
There was one thing for sure though-- having Josuke steer the makeout session
was unpleasant. He did not enjoy feeling out of control of the situation. When
Josuke had held him down to kiss him, the immediate annoyance that he had
consistently harbored for Josuke since the day he met him came flooding back.
It completely ruined the mood for Rohan as he remembered the times Josuke
unwittingly got him entangled in all sorts of stand-related messes, burned his
house down right in front of him, or even just stole Koichi away from him.
 
No, for this to work, Rohan would have to maintain the upper hand-- if not, it
would be very difficult for him to predict what could possibly happen with the
unpredictable teenager. Rohan shuddered at the unthinkable prospect.
 
---
 
Fuck Rohan, his smug face, and his shitty, holier-than-thou attitude.
Disgusted, Josuke could not believe that he had ever considered pitying the
reclusive eccentric. Splashing water on his face, Josuke looked up at himself
in the foggy mirror and bore his teeth angrily. There was no way he was going
to let Rohan jerk him around like this. He was going to take charge.
Definitively, Josuke slapped his cheeks and stood up, puffing his chest out.
 
Rohan Fucking Kishibe acted like some kind of god who was above human emotions
and needs-- yet Josuke distinctively remembered the hard outline of Rohan’s
erection pressed against his own earlier. Rohan had definitely felt something
when they were making out, and Josuke was not going to let the snooty manga
artist deny it. Rohan was not allowed to pretend that he had graciously got
Josuke off like some goddamn desperate charity case, when Josuke knew that the
stubborn, overly proud manchild was too dense or egotistical to admit that he
was attracted to Josuke too.
 
These past few days, all Rohan had done with Josuke was flirt with him. Sure,
it was kind of cute that the self-absorbed manga artist didn’t even appear to
realize that he was flirting with Josuke. However, Josuke knew-- no matter how
hard Rohan tried to play it off-- that the way the older man stared at Josuke’s
lips, or briefly ran his hands over his legs, or any of the other incredibly
obvious flirtatious acts were signs of affection.
 
So Josuke had fun with it-- he legitimately enjoyed the way they pushed each
other’s buttons, and it was hilarious to wipe the self-righteous grin right off
of Rohan’s stupidly beautiful face whenever he would boot Rohan out of a power
trip. Catching Rohan off guard was a riot, and Josuke even found the older man
attractive when outsmarted or humbled-- it made him seem like an actual human
being instead of a self-centered, self-serving asshole.
 
Yet it turned out in the end that Rohan was just a fucking asshole.
 
Adjusting the bow behind him, Josuke finished dressing himself up in the maid
outfit he had Crazy Diamond sneak out of Rohan’s work room while the manga
artist was on the phone with his editor again. He was an expert now in getting
in and out of the maid dress, and it was going to be his weapon.
 
He was going to force the idiot manchild Rohan Kishibe to confront his inner
sexual desires.
 
---
 
The subdued sound of Josuke’s soft steps was the only indication that the teen
had returned from the bathroom. Rohan imagined the defeated teen like a dog
with his tail between his legs, returning faithfully to his master now that he
had been broken with shame.
 
“You’re back just in time-- we’re almost done, I just need to touch up the ‘fan
service’ details,” announced Rohan to his model as he continued reviewing his
notes from his brief phone call with his editor. Excitedly, the editor had
praised Rohan once again for the great work-- saying that he could really feel
the sexual energy of the pin-up, and that they had no idea at the office that
Kishibe-sensei was capable of captivating such sensuality with a female figure.
 
His editor had coughed right after, excusing himself for any implied rudeness,
and then implored Rohan to please add some more detail to the lace and layers
of petticoat that framed the soft exposed flesh of the maid. The intention was
to further draw in the reader’s attention to the latent sexuality of the
illustration. “I’m sure you can do it, Kishibe-sensei! After that, I believe we
will be done with this illustration.”
 
Rohan recounted these notes to Josuke as he stood next to his desk, sketching
over the proof he had made earlier for faxing while explaining the key points
he needed to adjust.
 
In a flurry of fabric and lace, Josuke seated himself onto the large work
table. Rohan blinked quickly-- surprised to see his model dressed up already-
- as he settled in prettily. The dark-haired teen wore the dress the same way
he had always been wearing it-- however, there was something different about
him now. Josuke’s purple eyes stared through the damp bangs stuck to the front
of his face with an intensity that Rohan had only ever seen when they had
encountered enemy stand users.
 
Rohan sensed danger again. His eyes followed the way Josuke slowly smoothed out
the fluffy skirt over his thighs, evening out some of the wrinkles the dress
accumulated from being used continuously over the past few days.
 
“...When did you put the dress on?”
 
“I heard ya on the phone earlier and dressed up while you were talking-- let’s
get to work. It’s getting late, and ya promised yer publishers you'd get'em the
illustration done tonight, yeah?” The teen wore a suspicious smile again that
meant he was up to no good. Unwilling to back down from a challenge-
- especially one issued by Josuke, Rohan smiled back as if nothing was amiss.
"Alright. Let's set-up again, Josuke."
 
Rohan retrieved his drawing pad and put the illustration back on it-- he looked
around at the lights and other equipment scattered throughout the workroom.
 
“Ya just need the petticoat and lace of the dress, right? I can pose on the
table then. Look-- I shaved again in case there was any stubble.” Readjusting
himself on the table, Josuke laid back with one hand for stability, and hooked
his other arm around his knees to hold his legs up. Rohan had an eyeful of
petticoat, lace, and the back of Josuke’s smooth, garter-clad legs. The
stockings squeezed tightly around his flesh, emphasizing the softness of
Josuke’s inner thighs.
 
“Those aren’t the stockings I bought for you.”
 
“Sorry, the socks got dirty since I was walkin' around in them-- would these
do, though? They’re not super undersized-- they came off before 'cuz the garter
elastics were too short, but this is my garter so it fits better.” Josuke ran a
hand up the back of his thigh and tugged at the tight elastic of the garter
connected to the stocking-- peeling the sock off of his skin to show that while
snug, the stockings weren’t completely stretched out.
 
Danger, danger-- the warning signs were very clear to Rohan, however, he was
too fascinated to retreat. He had, after all, killed a man before out of
curiosity (though to his own credit, all he wanted was to see his back that
time-- he had no intention to commit murder that day).
 
“...They’re fine,” said Rohan slowly as he cautiously slid into his drawing
chair.
 
“Happy to hear that. You should come closer-- yer working on the details,
yeah?”
 
The wheels of the well-worn chair rattled as Rohan scooted closer to his
subject, drawing pad propped up on his thighs as he crossed one leg over the
other. Josuke sat on his desk looking pretty as he absently played with the
lace at the edge of the skirt, watching Rohan sift through his cart of tools to
locate a handful of paint pens in the colors of the lace. Each drawing
implement was laid out strategically on the top of the cart for easy retrieval.
Rohan uncapped a pen and sat even closer before he started to shade again.
 
Soon, Rohan could not resist asking, “What are you playing at, Josuke?”
 
The teen sighed and looked down, frowning. “Nothin'. You were right earlier-
- the hentai manga was good, and it’s not yer fault that I only packed one pair
of underwear, so consider this a truce and an apology all rolled into one.” He
peeked up through his long black bangs, and attempted to appeal to Rohan, who
was side-eyeing him from the drawing board. Josuke stuck his lips out into his
characteristic pout, and said, “I’m sorry for doubting you, Rohan-sensei.”
 
“Aha-- I knew you were up to something. That wasn’t convincing in the
slightest-- what are you really up to, Josuke?” The manga artist tucked a
marker behind his ear and crossed his arms over the top of his drawing pad,
smirking again. Josuke thought himself so clever, didn’t he?
 
Josuke tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear and bit his lip-- Rohan
remembered how that was Josuke’s tell for when he was nervous-- before he
explained, “Maybe I’m trying to turn ya on again because I just want ya to fuck
me. Properly.”
 
Rohan turned red to the tips of his ears in a flash at the crass words before
he retrieved the paint marker he had tucked under his headband. He ducked his
head down to seemingly continue working on his drawing, shrinking behind his
drawing pad away from Josuke’s perceptive line of sight.
 
“...Let’s talk about something else,” hissed Rohan as he added more detail to
the intricate patterns of the lace.
 
“Sure-- let’s talk about manga.”
 
Thank god.
 
“Alright, try me. This’ll be good, considering how little manga you’ve read.”
 
“Ya know that scene in ‘It’s a Secret’ where the protagonist fingers his boss
in her office after work? I think if it were me, I would have taken my time
with the foreplay more.”
 
Rohan exhaled sharply through his nose before putting his marker onto the tool
cart and asking through clenched teeth, “You really want to play this game,
Josuke?”
 
“Yeah-- ya told me to read the hentai because ya said I would be affected it,
and I did get turned on by it. Don’cha wanna hear about what parts I liked to
see how right or wrong you were about my tastes? I am yer target audience,
after all-- it would probably help yer manga to get to know me more, especially
since yer doing more fan service from now on, Rohan-sensei.”
 
“... Fine. Let’s do this.” He flicked his bangs out of his face with an elegant
twist of his hand and picked up a different paint pen. After highlighting some
more details, he chummily asked, “If that is the case, who are you in that
scenario-- the protagonist or his boss?”
 
“Well, ya always say that I look like a shounen protagonist-- so I definitely
put myself in his shoes more, but thinkin' on it, I wouldn’t mind being the
boss, yanno? Who was it who drew the book again?”
 
“Takahashi-sensei.”
 
“Yeah, Takahashi-sensei-- they made getting fingered look really good. Like,
I’ve never been fingered before, and I would guess that it would be really
different to be fingered vaginally versus anally, but like… it just looked
really good.”
 
“It’s not the same,” affirmed Rohan-- as if he had personally experienced
either, but without having a vagina himself he could only imagine. Still, he
had done his fair share of research, which included sitting in on a couple of
medical lectures. There was a working knowledge database in his head,
experience be damned.
 
Josuke’s voice sounded far away to Rohan, as he dreamily recounted the details
from the manga. “...His fingers were all nice and wet when he plunged them in
her, and Takahashi-sensei did that thing where it’s drawn so, like, you can
kind of see the inside, I guess? But like, it just looked so soft and slick in
there-- I was kind of jealous. D'yanno what I mean, Rohan?”
 
“Yes,” lied Rohan. “Get to the point, Josuke.”
 
“Finger me, Rohan.”
 
Rohan’s left hand briefly spasmed on the paper, and he exhaled sharply again
before he wrapped up the minor revisions to the illustration. He stood up
stiffly, body rigid and tight, as he hobbled over to the copier to make a small
proof for faxing again.
 
“What’s wrong, Rohan-sensei? Figured you'd be the type who'd be pleased to have
someone practically beg ya to have sex with them.” The mischievous teen grinned
cheekily as he stretched out on the table, done with posing.
 
Beep, beep-- bzzt.
 
He had botched the fax sequence-- forcing him to input it again. Closing his
eyes, Rohan tried to relax and remember what the sequence was-- scan first?
Connect? Dial?
 
After a few more combinations, the fax finally went through-- the final proof
was done, for now.
 
“Go home, Josu--”
 
“We should practice together. Not sex-- but drawing this outfit. The maid
character is reoccuring, right? This dress will need to be washed, air dried,
and then ironed, so it’ll be out of commission for a few days. Might as well
take this chance to practice a little more.”
 
Dragging the palm of his hands down his face, Rohan considered his choices. He
peeked at Josuke through the spaces between his fingers, and saw the teenager
sitting with one leg pulled up to his chest, smiling at him with his cheek
pressed to his raised knee.
 
“Rohan-sensei, do ya wanna guess what ’m wearing under my petticoat?”
 
---
 
The Great, Famous Manga Artist Rohan Kishibe suppressed a groan behind a tight
frown as the Most Troublesome Teenager in the World, Josuke Higashikata,
pressed a stockinged foot to his crotch. For the last few minutes, Josuke had
been sliding his foot up from where it was originally propped on Rohan’s knee.
His toes had lingered at Rohan’s inner thigh when he peaked through his relaxed
bangs—lip caught between his teeth—at Rohan’s flushed look of concentration.
Emboldened by Rohan’s dark blush and lack of complaints, Josuke delighted as he
circled his big toe over the ridge of Rohan’s swollen cockhead through his
white jeans.
The coiling arousal in Rohan’s belly thrummed as Josuke applied more
pressure—sinking the heel of his foot against Rohan’s firm, hot flesh.
Rohan’s pencil stilled for a moment as he took a shuddering breath—if he didn’t
tell Josuke to back off soon, he knew that they would push past the threshold
They Should Absolutely Not Cross that they had been rapidly approaching—but
then went back to quietly sketching the billowing shape of Josuke’s maid dress
bunched up around his garter-clad thighs into his sketchbook for reference.
After a few more agonizing minutes—Josuke unashamedly dragging the heel of his
foot up and down Rohan’s length—Rohan finished the fabric study he had been
agonizing over.
With interest, Josuke’s eyes followed Rohan’s hands as he carefully put down
the drawing pad and organized the latest practice sketches they had completed
with Josuke modelling for him. While Rohan tucked away his drawing
implements—as if he were packing up shop for the night—Josuke glanced at the
digital clock on his desk and saw that it was very, very late. In fact, it was
the latest Josuke had ever stayed since he started working for Rohan—and
removed his foot from Rohan’s crotch with disappointment. The work day was
over, and Rohan had not succumbed to Josuke's teasing. Maybe tomorrow, bemoaned
Josuke hopefully.
Before Josuke could slide off the desk to get ready to go home, Rohan grabbed
Josuke’s knees and opened his thighs by shoving his knees down into the top of
the drawing desk—causing the teenager to yelp from the sudden display of
aggression. Josuke’s heart leapt further up his throat when he saw Rohan lean
forward from his chair where he was caged between Josuke’s spread legs, the
artist’s lips hovering above the edge of the dress’ fabric hiding Josuke’s
straining erection.
“Teenagers are so horny,” sighed Rohan, before he pushed his nose into the
layers of petticoat to nuzzle the cloth out of the way and finally see if
Josuke was wearing boxer briefs or panties.
 
 
 
Turns out, Josuke was wearing the panties. He committed the image to memory-
- the white panties stretched tight across the darkened flesh of Josuke’s
erection looked-- for lack of a better word-- tasty to Rohan. Momentarily, he
realized with a tight swallow that he salivated a bit at the erotic sight of
the teen's firm cock straining behind the delicate lingerie. The details-- a
small bow, the layers of lace, the cut of the panties-- needed to be taken down
properly later with a sketch. For now, he had something very urgent to deal
with it, and it wasn't the panties.
 
The problem was that Rohan didn’t know what to do next. His only reference
knowledge he had for sex was based off of heterosexual sex. Now, between
Josuke’s thighs, he regretted so much. When he had picked up the hentai last
night, he should have grabbed a few BL titles-- unfortunately, he had not
considered educating himself on the mechanisms of homosexual intercourse
between two men at the time. Those were simpler times-- when his only goal was
to jack off decently enough so that he would stop drooling over Josuke all the
time for the preservation of his own pride.
 
Presently, he had a different matter of pride on the line-- not looking like a
bumbling virgin in front of Josuke, who he had been talking big in front of
since they met. He peeked up through the petticoat-- Josuke’s flushed face
stared down at him. He was biting his lower lip with a coy smile, waiting for
Rohan to make the next move.
 
Now what?
 
Rohan panicked.
***** Chapter 10 *****
Chapter Notes
     Here's another chapter of "two horny idiots scream and yell at each
     other." I noticed that the fic is starting to deviate from my
     outline-- I hope it doesn't deviate too much, because then it gets
     away from me too and I don't know how to predict what is happening in
     it anymore. Thanks for your patience! Recently, I've been both
     preparing for WonderCon and working a lot. I appreciate all the
     encouraging messages over the past two weeks since I haven't updated
     as frequently!
Everything was going so well-- Rohan was basically drooling as he inched his
mouth closer and closer to Josuke’s panty-covered erection-- until the manga
artist sat back in his chair suddenly, shutting Josuke’s knees with both hands
as if he couldn’t stand to look at him any longer.
 
“What are ya doing, Rohan?”
 
Rohan put one arm behind his head and used the other to motion at his pants
before stating as authoritatively as he could, “I-It’s your turn to service
me.”
 
“What?!”
 
“Well, I got you off earlier--”
 
“That totally doesn’t count! That was practically an accident. I barely got to
enjoy it.” Pouting, Josuke scooted to the front of the desk and grabbed the
arms of Rohan’s chair in case Rohan tried to slide back more.
 
“That’s on you and your inability to last, Josuke. It’s my turn to get off-- so
either you pay me back for your ‘accident’ in the afternoon, or you stop trying
to play this game of gay chicken with me.”
 
While the manga artist was trying to play it cool, the empathetic teen noticed
that something didn’t seem right. Was Rohan trying to get away from him again?
What could possibly motivate him to frantically try to drive Josuke away again
even though so far it was clear that Rohan had been enjoying the mutual
flirting?
 
Before arguing further, Josuke stopped and considered the situation.
 
“Rohan, are you a virgin?”
 
 
 
“What is with your family and asking about my virginity?!” erupted Rohan,
sputtering and red in the face.
 
Bewildered by Rohan’s outburst, Josuke gawked as the prideful man looked away
angrily, scowling at the floor.
 
“My family?” asked Josuke, confused.
 
“God, so what if I’m a virgin?!” snapped Rohan, green eyes flicking to Josuke’s
purple eyes. Rohan’s cheeks were stained a dark rouge, and even though he was
frowning tightly, Josuke could see a minute quiver in the older man’s jaw. He
looked so scandalized-- as if he had admitted to something completely
devastating, when it was just the matter of “have you ever had sex?”
 
Josuke couldn’t help it-- his body shook as he started to laugh, “So you are?
God, and all this time you’ve said--”
 
“I’ve said nothing! Whatever you thought is what you thought and that’s your
own fault for being stupid, but I never explicitly said anything, brat.”
 
“Lay off the name calling! What are ya, five? Okay, but seriously, virginity
isn’t--”
 
Rohan thrashed in the stopped chair, hands balled into fists as he defended
himself screechily, “Virginity is a stupid, artificial concept! Why do people
assign so much importance to such a thing? All I’ve ever said is the truth-
- that I am an enlightened, pure individual who has dedicated my life to art! I
haven’t had time to--”
 
Josuke tried to soothe Rohan to prevent him from launching into another speech
on the sanctity of art by grabbing one of Rohan’s hands and gently unclenching
it by intertwining their fingers. He coughed, trying to stop his giggles, as he
settled the older man, saying, “Whoa, slow down-- it’s, haha--”
 
“Stop laughing!”
 
“I’m tryin'! God, okay-- ha, I’m trying to tell ya that I agree, I don’t think
virginity is that big of a deal.”
 
“Are you a virgin?”
 
“No, but I--”
 
“You’re not?! God, what are teenagers doing these days? What’s with the fucking
rush to lose your virginity?!”
 
“What? Oh-- for fuck’s sake, Rohan, calm down-- I don’t care if yer a virgin,
okay? I was just trying to figure out if and why yer trying to push me away
again.”
 
“Maybe I was! Maybe I didn’t want you to lord over me with your, your non-
virgin-ness-- you sex fiend! I was right! Teenagers are so fucking horny! What
is it that you want from me, Josuke?! For me to embarrass myself further?”
 
Rolling his eyes, Josuke pulled Rohan forward with their held hands and wrapped
his arm around Rohan’s waist, holding him close with a sly smile. He pressed
his lips against Rohan’s briefly, shutting up the manga artist immediately.
 
“I want us to pick up where we left off-- but,” Josuke gave Rohan another quick
kiss, enjoying the feel of Rohan’s thin, light body pressed against his, before
continuing shrewdly, “Only if you’re honest with me about something first.”
 
“What else is there to be honest about?!” spat the disgraced man, fidgeting
agitatedly in Josuke’s arms.
 
“Rohan, do ya like me?”
 
He ceased squirming to glare at Josuke incredulously, then screamed, “What?!”
 
“Well, lemme rephrase that-- Rohan, are ya attracted to me? Like, in any way at
all?” Josuke licked his lips nervously, relieved somewhat that Rohan stilled in
his embrace even though he only did so to bitterly look Josuke up and down with
a conflicted scowl.
 
“W-well, aesthetically-- you’re very… acceptable.”
 
Josuke rolled his eyes at Rohan’s dodgy answer, which did not go unnoticed by
the other. “Is that not enough for you? Have I not already put up with you
enough recently, Josuke?”
 
“I’m not going to have sex with ya on shaky pretenses, Rohan.”
 
“Fine! You’re more dependable than I previously thought-- though the bar was
pretty low to begin with-- and you’re not unbearable to be around! Is that
sufficient?”
 
That was probably as good as it was going to get, relented Josuke with a tired
huff as he nuzzled his nose into the junction between Rohan’s neck and
shoulder. He rested there momentarily-- exhausted at how he had to painfully
extract information from the childish older man-- moving only after he felt the
impatient twitch of muscle in Rohan’s neck against his cheek.
 
“Great. Let’s be clear on this first then-- I’m not on the clock when we’re
fooling around, okay? I’m not having sex with ya for money.” Eyebrows furrowed,
Josuke withdrew from snuggling into Rohan’s body to stare him firmly in the
eyes. “I’m very serious about this, Rohan-- don’t think even once that I’m
sleeping with ya for money.”
 
Accepting money in exchange for affection just didn’t sit right for Josuke-
- while he didn’t think of himself as a terribly big romantic, he still thought
that he wanted to reserve his tenderness for only when he felt legitimate
intimacy. Even if the intimacy was only sexual in nature. He wouldn’t judge
someone who did receive money for physical interaction, but it just wasn’t
something he felt right doing himself.
 
“Of course you aren’t sleeping with me for my money-- you already have my
money,” corrected Rohan with a toss of his head. “You’re sleeping with me
because I’m Rohan Kishibe-- handsome, successful, and charismatic.”
 
“Sure, go ahead and tell yerself that.” In fact, Josuke felt most attracted to
Rohan when he was anything but a one-dimensionally attractive celebrity figure.
 
“No, youtell yourself that,” childishly bit back Rohan as he hooked his hands
behind Josuke’s defined jawline and pulled his face closer to his. “Now are we
going to do this, or what? I swear, Josuke, I’m not going to let you leave here
with your memories intact after debasing myself to such a level just to soothe
your insecurities about whether or not I have a crush on a brat like you! And
would you stop laughing?!”
 
Josuke bit his tongue instead of teasing Rohan about how he was the one begging
to get laid instead of the way Rohan desperately tried to frame it for his own
pride. Holding up his hands, he regained his composure as best as he could
while Rohan continued to scream obscenities and threats at him despite the fact
that Rohan’s face was almost dyed red from blushing so much.
 
“Have you been seduced by me, Rohan?”
 
“Yes! So take some goddamn responsibility, Josuke!”
 
“Okay, okay-- but first, I hafta call my mom to let her know I’m stayin' the
night. There’s no way she’ll let me stay out this late just to fool around and
come home around 2AM or somethin'. That’s super sketch.” After he said that,
Josuke realized that no matter how he looked at the situation, it was very
shady. He had a hard enough time lying to his friends-- it was nearly
impossible for him to lie to his mother without her noticing. He’ll have to
figure out how to frame the phone call in a way that wasn’t quite a full lie...
 
“Then hurry up and do so!” shouted Rohan, unwrapping Josuke from him to give
him room to hop off the work desk.
 
“I will, I just gotta think of what to say first-- and no, I’m not going to
tell her I’m staying at the house of Koichi-kun’s Best Friend, the Famous Manga
Artist Rohan Kishibe! She’ll definitely call the cops!”
 
Rohan clicked his tongue disdainfully.
 
---
 
After successfully arguing his case that Josuke’s initial ejaculation wasn’t
sufficient enough to count, they decided to try to decide who gets to cum next
through rock paper scissors while sitting on Rohan’s large bed.
 
Rohan clicked his tongue angrily again-- Josuke's scissors beat Rohan's paper.
 
“Great! See, fate is on my side-- further proving that earlier didn’t count, so
eat it-- hyaH!” yelled Josuke as his back hit the bed from Rohan suddenly
shoving him down with a flat palm. Gracelessly, Rohan grabbed layers of skirt
fabric in one fist and yanked up, exposing Josuke quickly. Paying no mind to
Josuke’s squawks of “Wait!” and “Slow down!” he unhooked the garters off
Josuke’s stockings to gain better access to Josuke’s underwear.
 
“Do you know nothing about setting the mood?” shrieked Josuke, stopping Rohan’s
hand clenched tightly around the panty’s fabric covering his right hip.
 
“Well, once you finish then it’s my turn, right? Stop being so greedy-- you’ve
had sex before, and you’ve already cum once today even though you keep
insisting that it doesn’t count,” stoically explained Rohan as he and Josuke
both tugged at the lacy underwear-- Rohan pulling in one direction, and Josuke
pulling in the other.
 
“Okay, okay! Stop, yer gonna rip it, geez,” grumbled the bewildered teen-
- Rohan, notoriously socially inept and also completely unsympathetic to anyone
that wasn’t Koichi, acted like just because Josuke has had sex before meant it
was old hat to the teen. Tentatively, Josuke steadied his thumping heart before
he let go of his grip on the panties. Rohan removed it with one swift motion,
ignoring Josuke’s yelp of surprise at the sudden cold air hitting his lower
extremities.
 
Disappointment evident, Rohan huffed, “Why are you still soft?”
 
“Because ya don’t know how to set a mood! I don’t have an on or off switch,
yanno!”
 
“Aren’t you 16? You were raring to go earlier, but now--”
 
Josuke slapped Rohan’s roaming hand away from groping at him aggressively.
 
“Do you want me to touch you or not, Josuke?! Make up your damn mind!”
 
“I do, but don’t just make a grab at me like that-- what were ya gonna try to
do? Shake it until it wakes up?” Josuke closed his legs defensively and covered
them with the maid dress-- no way was he letting Rohan just blindly grab at
him.
 
“Well I don’t fucking know, Josuke-- I’m a fucking virgin! Could we stop
beating a dead horse already?” shouted the short-tempered man as if what he
just said explained away all of his uncouth actions plainly.
 
“I can't believe this-- have ya never masturbated before? I know I saw some
used tissues when I threw out yer trash earlier…”
 
“I have-- but I only masturbate after the problem arises itself. I usually
don’t have the luxury of time to lay in bed and try to induce an erection out
of myself.”
 
Exasperated, Josuke raked his hands through his hair and bemoaned, “What is
wrong with you?”
 
“Nothing-- what’s wrong with you? Why aren’t you aroused yet?”
 
Seeing no other choice, Josuke pressed the back of his arm over his eyes, tired
already. If he wasn’t so attracted to Rohan, he would have acted on his second
thoughts and given up. Josuke bit his lower lip and snaked a hand under his
dress.
 
“What are you doing?”
 
“Yer impossible-- I now realize that I’ve been settin' the mood for us this
entire time, so I’ll have to work myself up. Just be quiet for a moment, Rohan,
I hafta concentrate.”
 
“Tch.”
 
Josuke warmed his hand up by stroking it up and down his inner thigh-- the
ticklish sensation of his fingers over his shaved legs was unfamiliar. He
wriggled in place in the plush blankets and pillows surrounding him, trying to
find a comfortable position on the bed. Once settled in better, he took another
deep breath and palmed himself firmly. Typically, it wouldn’t take him very
long to coax at least a semi out of himself-- but while he couldn’t see with
his arm draped across his eyes, he could feel Rohan unabashedly staring at him.
 
He bit his lip again and turned his head, feeling his sensitivity increase as
more blood pooled into his penis. Josuke rolled his palm harder against
himself, his chest rising and falling steadily under the pretty apron of his
costume, and found himself thinking about the way Rohan’s swollen, bitten lips
had looked after they first made out. While he didn’t want to inflate Rohan’s
ego further by telling him, Josuke thought Rohan was really, really, really
hot.
 
Their tastes clashed, but he still appreciated the way Rohan’s thin but toned
body looked when he wore his distinctive crop tops and loose, low-hanging
pants. He was taller than Rohan, so when he looked down at the older man he
often could see the way Rohan’s exposed, colorful boxer briefs hugged his
defined hips as the loose pants billowed around his model-like form. Even
before all of this summer job business, Josuke had admittedly thought about
kissing and sucking on the pale skin stretched over Rohan’s shapely hips.
 
Forming a tight O with his index finger and thumb, Josuke slowly wrapped his
fingers around his fully erect cock and shuddered.
 
“Let me see what you’re doing,” was all the warning Josuke got from Rohan
before he pushed both of his hands up Josuke’s thighs to gather the layers of
skirt up around his waist. Josuke looked down with a yelp to see that Rohan was
laying on his belly on the bed. The tactless man was so close to Josuke’s
erection that he could feel Rohan’s breath ghost over the hot flesh.
 
“Stop staring at me like that!” managed Josuke as he nervously fisted the
sheets underneath him-- he felt the excitement surge through him from Rohan’s
mouth being so close to his naked erection, but Rohan was staring at him so
brazenly that it made Josuke feel stripped of dignity.
 
“I’m not staring, I’m studying. How else am I supposed to learn how to do this
next time so you stop complaining about me not being able to get you up? Keep
going.”
 
“I would, but I need ya to get off of me so I can get the lube,” mumbled Josuke
as he stopped stroking himself to palm at his erection-- though he mostly he
did so to cover his groin up from Rohan’s agonizingly intense gaze.
 
Unexpectedly, Rohan got up and started rooting around for the lube in his
bedside table until he procured the new bottle that he had picked up last
night. He dropped it next to Josuke, frowning. “Is there anything else you need
me to get while I’m already standing up?”
 
“Uh-- no, thanks. I guess I'm good.” He rolled the small bottle between both of
his hands vigorously.
 
Sitting back onto the bed, Rohan tilted his head at Josuke’s ministrations.
“What are you doing now?”
 
“I just warmed up, so I don’t wanna like, wilt, from cold lube. So I’m heating
up the lube too.”
 
Plucking the small bottle out of Josuke's large hands, Rohan started rolling
the bottle between his palms. “Let me do it then.”
 
Sheepishly, Josuke continued palming himself slowly to keep his erection. Rohan
was genuinely trying to learn even though he was being awkwardly direct about
it-- still, Josuke couldn’t help but find it somewhat endearing. He felt his
ears burn a bit at the thought.
 
It was quiet while Rohan rolled the bottle.
 
“I’m surprised that yer helping me warm up instead of sketching me.”
 
“You already complained about me ruining the mood enough,” sneered Rohan
defensively, stilling his hands.
 
Not everything was an attack on Rohan's character, ugh. Josuke rolled his eyes-
- Rohan was still as immature as ever, even when being helpful. “I didn’t mean
it that way-- it’s nice that yer participating instead of just asking me to do
something like... jack off for yer reference, or whatever.”
 
Rohan looked at Josuke, then longingly back towards his work room where his
tools were, and then back at Josuke.
 
His frown tightened, and then he popped open the lube bottle.
 
“Were you serious about wanting me to finger you, or were you just talking big
to rile me up?”
 
Having forgotten about the dirty talk from earlier, Josuke flushed briefly
before he nervously scratched his face. “I, uh,” he coughed into his hand, “I
was serious.” It was easy for him to say those things earlier-- he was pissed
off, riding on adrenaline, and deadset on shaking Rohan up, but now the
atmosphere was totally different.
 
“Okay,” said Rohan as he squeezed the lube into his open palm and ran his
fingers through it.
 
“Time out! Do ya know what yer fucking doing?”
 
“Not at all-- I’ve never studied sex between two men before in any capacity, as
it didn’t seem useful for my manga,” admitted Rohan matter-of-factly as he
guided his hand between Josuke’s legs. Josuke planted a socked foot against
Rohan’s chest to keep him at bay, and crossed both of his arms to form an X.
 
“Stop, stop! No, we are not going to mess with my ass if neither of us know
what we’re doing.”
 
“Then what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and watch you jerk off? We’ve
already gone over this-- the only thing I’ve ever done is just quickly relieve
myself, and you don’t want me doing the same to you.”
 
“Yeah, because the pace ya do it is fucking scary!” Earlier, Josuke had asked
Rohan to demonstrate by making a fist in the air to show how fast he usually
stroked himself-- truly, Rohan only masturbated with the determination of an
angry man who wanted to get rid of an erection as fast as possible. When he had
asked Rohan if it even felt good, Rohan said he didn’t have a frame of
reference for such an assessment. Fearfully, Josuke realized with mixed
feelings that Rohan was a virgin to the max-- and that the man child was also
basically sexually illiterate despite how much he insisted on a working
knowledge gleaned from medical books and hentai.
 
Josuke worried his lower lip again and eyed Rohan’s slicked fingers.
 
“Fine, then just one finger-- and don’t like… move it around or anything. Just
put it in, and we’ll see from there.”
 
“Okay,” with no delicacy at all, Rohan placed a sticky hand on the back of
Josuke’s left knee and opened the teen's legs up, guiding his lubed middle
finger towards Josuke’s cleft.
 
Josuke kicked him in the chest again with his free leg, yelling, “Whoa whoa
whoa! Rohan, yer scaring me again! Slow down! Slow--” it was too late though-
- Rohan’s lubed finger was pressed against Josuke’s opening, though it wasn’t
pushing in.
 
Woozily, Josuke could clearly hear his heart beating rapidly-- the pounding was
in Josuke’s ears, and he was dizzy with both excitement and fear.
 
“Josuke,” Rohan said softly.
 
They looked at each other, eyes meeting.
 
The manga artist had removed his headband before he got onto bed-- force of
habit, he had explained earlier-- and Josuke noticed that some of his green
bangs were sticking to his forehead from sweat. The red tint to his face was
neither from anger nor irritation-- but from the arousal that was doubly
evident from the dark edge to Rohan’s green eyes. All this time, Josuke had
been focused on maintaining his own erection-- but now he looked down and saw
the clear outline of Rohan’s swollen cock straining in his tight, white jeans.
 
He couldn’t remember when Rohan was starting to become aroused, but he could
remember what Rohan said earlier:
 
“Take some goddamn responsibility.”
 
This was Rohan’s first time having sex properly, after all.
 
Josuke swallowed thickly, remembering how good fingering looked in one of the
books Rohan had, and felt the arousal twist in his lower belly-- hot and sharp.
 
Determinedly, Josuke nodded quietly to let Rohan know he could continue. The
nervous teen maintained eye contact with Rohan to keep his mind off of the
foreign sensation of something pushing against his opening, and winced as he
felt the slow intrusion of Rohan’s thin finger when it finally breached him.
The manga artist continued to heatedly keep his eyes on Josuke’s as he sank his
finger in deeper-- aroused expression unchanging. Panting softly, Josuke
squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on not tensing up too much around
Rohan's finger that was buried inside of him. It didn’t feel good, nor did it
feel bad. The finger, Josuke thought cloudily as he felt Rohan’s knuckles bump
into his ass, was just there sort of there-- a light pressure that his inner
walls gently clamped around.
 
However, Josuke shuddered, he had never felt more turned on his life. The mere
thought that Rohan-- this elegantly beautiful older man whom he had been having
lively arguments with for the past few weeks-- had his attention focused
entirely on Josuke to ensure that Josuke felt good made the dazed teen's chest
twist in a way he couldn’t quite describe.
 
“You can-- you can move it, um, in and out. Slowly, p-please,” stuttered the
aroused teen, who started to slowly stroke himself with the tight O again after
lubing up his own hand. The manga artist slipped a hand under Josuke and
scooted closer before settling Josuke’s lower half down onto his folded lap.
Josuke’s long legs hung loosely around Rohan’s hips. He pulled his finger out-
- watching Josuke's mouth fall open as his expression shifted-- and sank his
finger back in.
 
The teenager let his head fall back onto the pillow, moaning softly as he felt
the heat build inside of him-- the single finger still did not feel like much,
but Josuke was shivering with arousal just from feeling his body rock a bit
with the motion of Rohan sliding his finger in and out of him.
 
“You’re making a nice face right now,” stated Rohan quietly-- Josuke groaned
louder as he felt Rohan use a hand on his garter-covered hip to pull him up
into the man's lap more. Rohan pushed Josuke’s knee down to his shoulder,
tilting the teen’s lower body up further-- allowing him to push down instead of
in as he pumped his finger. Josuke was whimpering now as he stroked himself
faster-- he was completely opened up under the older man, unable to hold back
the noises he usually swallowed when masturbating at home. He felt so obscene,
and the garters noisily bounced as they hung down from his waist when Rohan
started to pump harder.
 
He was close-- he realized after an embarrassingly loud moan, and he looked up
at Rohan between his thighs and saw the hunger in the older man’s eyes.
 
“I can feel you clenching around my finger-- the inside of your body is really
warm,” observed Rohan, as he licked his lips and started shoving his finger in
faster-- drinking in the sights and sounds of Josuke whimpering more and more.
He ran his free hand down the back of Josuke’s thigh and felt the tremors
increase. “Are you going to cum, Josuke?”
 
With a ragged cry, Josuke bit the meat of his palm and nodded quickly.
 
Rohan removed his finger and grabbed Josuke tightly at the base of his
erection. “Don’t cum yet, I want you to cum in my mouth.”
 
“W-what?” The buildup was unbearable-- he wanted to orgasm, but with Rohan
holding him there at the base with his fingers wrapped around his balls and
cock, he couldn’t. Shit, Josuke remembered a scene from one of the hentai
mangas earlier where the protagonist was denied the chance to cum from the same
maneuver. “Rohan, let go-- I w-wanna cum, I need to cum, I gotta,” babbled the
teen deliriously-- he tried to rock out of Rohan’s grip, but the angle he was
held at made it really hard, especially since his mind was hazy from arousal.
 
“Not yet,” he saw Rohan lick his lips again before he pulled Josuke’s hips up
further-- the teen’s shoulder dug into the bed and the dress hung off of him at
the waist where it was secured in place by the apron’s bow-- and Rohan adjusted
his arms so that they were wound tightly around Josuke’s hips and lower
stomach. Josuke’s eyes went wide as he saw Rohan open his mouth and guide the
tip of Josuke’s throbbing erection into his wet mouth.
 
“R-Rohan-- I can’t, I’m g-gonna...!!,” stuttered Josuke as Rohan sucked,
forming a seal-- ensuring that he could taste it all-- before he loosened his
grip on Josuke and stroked the length outside of his mouth with the same tight
O he saw Josuke use. The teen’s cocked pulsed immediately as he cried, yelling,
“I’m-- I’m cumming, c-cumming, Rohan, I--” the semen hit the back of Rohan’s
throat, but he continued sucking diligently past his initial gag while stroking
Josuke through his powerful, desperate orgasm. Josuke squeezed his eyes so
tightly that tears dotted his eyes, and Rohan held onto him firmly until the
screaming teen’s body stopped shaking.
 
Josuke panted in place, head swimming from his orgasm, and saw Rohan rub his
thumb across his lower lip to catch semen that had pooled at the edges of his
mouth. He stared dully as Rohan popped his thumb into his mouth to clean the
cum off his finger.
 
The manga artist closed his eyes as if he was considering the taste and
texture, then looked down at Josuke, who was crumbled beneath him. His spent
cock was soft and red from the abuse, one sock had lubricant smears on it and
was pushed down past his knee, his garter belt had slid down to his waist from
his hips, and Josuke’s face was sticky with sweat. The satiated teen, pliable,
occasionally twitched as he panted through the aftershocks of cumming, mouth
open and shiny.
 
Curiously, Rohan leaned forward--
 
“W-what are ya doing? W-wait, Rohan, yer fucking crazy-- ahh!”
 
-- and dipped his tongue into the slick cleft of Josuke’s ass, enjoying
Josuke’s yelp and the vicious tremor of his body as Rohan lapped luxuriously,
slowly. The shock of Rohan eating him out gave Josuke enough adrenaline to
regain control of his limp limbs momentarily, and he squirmed until he rolled
out of Rohan’s grip. Josuke's wide chest heaved exhaustively as he flopped to
the side. Protectively, Josuke held the back of the dress down over his lower
half, gulping as he breathed deeply against his sweaty pillow.
 
“You didn’t like it?” questioned Rohan.
 
Tiredly, Josuke murmured with a defiant sniff, “...It’s too ticklish.”
***** Chapter 11 *****
Chapter Notes
     Josuke is very Helpful. I keep thinking about how nice and big his
     body is thanks to the DiU anime airing. Josuke's chest, man. I want
     to take a nap on it.
     I still read all the comments and I love everyone who leaves them and
     kudos. Also thank you for the bookmarks!!!!! Next few chapters, I
     promise, will have more cosplay sex. I am still updating as much as I
     can, but I have another con this week (WonderCon last week was
     crazy!) and then yet another one at the beginning of May. By the way,
     if you guys have any requests or anything for this fic, I'm all
     ears!!!!
This is uncomfortable, thought Josuke as he quietly sipped his glass of ice
water that Rohan brought him. They sat across from each other on the bed-
- Rohan with both of his legs folded under him, and Josuke with his legs tucked
under the dress.
 
The older man’s eyes were fixed expectantly on the teen. Finally, Rohan
impatiently pried,
 
“So are we going to do it?”
 
Josuke threw his head back as he downed the rest of the water and slammed the
drained cup onto the side table to his right, gritting his teeth, “Yes, for the
sixth fucking time, we are! Christ, just-- gimme a few minutes, 'kay?” The
young stand user roughly drew the back of his hand across his lips to wipe off
the remaining water-- he noted how hot his skin felt.
 
Rohan leaned forward, mouth drawn into a tight line, vibrating slightly with
excitement.
 
It was his turn now.
 
The teen in front of him shifted on the bed, untangling his legs from the
layers of petticoat and dress as he awkwardly ran his hands up and down his
arms. Immediately after Josuke had curled up defensively on the bed, panting as
he came down from overstimulation, Rohan had crept his hands up the back of the
shaking teen’s thighs. He had then been repelled with a flash of sparkling pink
energy-- Crazy Diamond’s clenched fist swung forward blindly, without the
intention to harm, as an instinctive reaction to Rohan’s wandering hands.
 
The manga artist had then fallen back onto his butt, sinking into the soft bed
as Josuke irritably glared at him through his sweaty bangs with watery eyes.
Turns out the manga artist had greatly overestimated what he had thought were
the normal, expected limits of a teenager’s libido-- and somehow, to his great
annoyance, got kicked out of his own bedroom to fetch a glass of water after
Josuke swatted his hands away again.
 
Tch-- stingy brat, pouted Rohan as he had hiked back up the stairs two steps at
a time with the water.
 
Josuke sighed now, scrubbing a hand through his long bangs as he shifted onto
his knees and gathered the dress around his waist.
 
Rohan perked up immediately, asking, “So are--”
 
“Yes!” breathed Josuke, “Just gimme a second to take the dress off before we
actually get it dirty beyond repair.” The teenager reached behind himself and
huffed as he scrabbled to yank the zipper down his back. A pair of thin hands
stopped him, and Rohan pressed himself tightly against the front of teen,
drawing him close.
 
“Leave it on-- I can always buy another one.”
 
Josuke snorted-- he couldn’t help smiling nervously as Rohan’s hands smoothed
the dress down around his backside and grabbed firmly, excitedly. “Are ya
actually into cosplay sex? Am I gonna wear the nurse outfit next time?”
 
“Maybe the school uniform, actually.”
 
“Are ya even listening to yourself? You totally-- ah-- sound like an old
pervert.” He winced-- Rohan wasn’t shy at all about putting his hands-- and his
tongue, fuck-- anywhere, now that they had thrown all sense of shame out the
window.
 
“Shut up-- don’t forget, you’re the dirty teenager who was screaming just
moments ago from being fingered by an ‘old pervert.’”
 
With that, Josuke planted a knee into Rohan’s chest and bodily shoved him down
before straddling the older man between his thick thighs. He thumbed Rohan’s
bottom lip with his calloused hand, humming appreciatively as he admired the
artist’s beautiful features with hooded eyes and a self-satisfied grin.
Earnestly, Rohan’s mouth fell open as Josuke continued to slowly run his finger
back and forth across Rohan’s lower lip, enjoying the way Rohan’s eyes
fluttered shut in preparation for a kiss.
 
The kiss didn’t come-- Josuke pinched the bridge of Rohan’s nose and removed
the artist’s sneaky hand that had slipped under the dress and in-between
Josuke’s firm cheeks.
 
“What gives?”
 
“Were you gonna try to stick your dick in me?”
 
“Well, yes,” stated Rohan gruffly as he quickly retried slipping his hand back
under the dress to press against Josuke’s cleft.
 
Josuke slapped Rohan’s hands away again, one eyebrow raised at the clueless
virgin.
 
“Dude, take a hint. I already said-- we’re not messing with my butt when
neither of us know what the fuck we’re doing!”
 
Rohan rolled his eyes, scoffing, “So then what? It’s late at night-- are we
going to go break into the public library or something, or do I need to call up
my editor to put me in touch with BL authors?”
 
“What’s BL? Actually-- forget that, please don’t call yer editor about this in
the middle of the night. That sounds like yet another very terrible idea.”
 
“How would that be a bad idea? I’m just making good use of my resources. We
have a research department for a reason-- my editor can help us get in contact
with--”
 
Horrified, Josuke sat up urgently as images flashed through his head of a
celebrity scandal involving the Great Manga Artist Rohan Kishibe. “Rohan, oh my
god, we are not utilizing the research department of yer goddamn publishing
company to-- I dunno-- do a write-up on how to have anal sex!”
 
“Why not? It’s a perfectly reasonable request--”
 
“No it’s not! They’re definitely going to think that it’s suspicious that here
you are calling yer editor at like 11:00PM about anal sex! Do people even work
that late?”
 
The practical but socially inept manga artist started to get up too, looking
down the hall towards his workroom where his landline was as he explained, “My
editor works just as late as I do usually, so it’s not that atypical. Besides,
I could use that information for my manga, Josuke-- they wouldn’t think twice
about it--”
 
Josuke dragged his hands down the side of his face and groaned loudly over
Rohan until the man stopped talking. “Shhh, just-- stop, you’re impossible.
There’s more ways to have sex than just stickin' your dick into my ass or
someone’s vagina.” Grumbling, Josuke reached down and opened Rohan’s fly before
stuffing his cold hand into the front of Rohan’s boxers briefs to shut up the
babbling manchild (“I don’t think it counts as losing your virginity unless you
fuck something, Josuke!”).
 
“Josuke, what the fuck!” shrieked Rohan, pitch rapidly raising syllable by
syllable as Josuke wrapped his hands around Rohan’s balls and cupped them
firmly.
 
“See? This is how I felt earlier when I said you were ruinin' the mood-- now
stop complainin', you can fuck me in the butt some other time, you impatient
baby! God, yer in such a hurry...” Rohan grunted miserably, a conflicted frown
on his face, as Josuke rolled his hands up and down Rohan’s firming cock.
Josuke blew his bangs out of his face, smug smile forming as he coaxed a
disgruntled moan out of the older man.
 
Seeing that Rohan was settling into the rhythm of the strokes, Josuke let go
momentarily-- laughing lightly at Rohan’s impatient huff-- to feel around the
twisted bed sheets to find the bottle of lube that they had been using earlier.
He hiked up the wrinkled bottom of the maid dress and rolled the small lube
bottle up and down the outside of his thigh using his left hand while he
resumed palming Rohan with his right hand.
 
“Then how the hell am I going to lose-- nngh-- my virginity?” grunted Rohan
with a brief stutter, his eyes following Josuke’s every movement as the
scheming teenager poured the lube onto his hands and tossed the bottle to the
side again.
 
“My thighs-- yanno, the ones you’ve been creepily feeling up all week? Don’t
worry,” soothed Josuke while holding up one slippery hand in a V sign, “This is
how I lost my virginity too, actually.”
 
With both hands, Josuke started twisting his slicked fingers up and down
Rohan’s cock tightly. He had used too much lube-- the excess that squeezed out
between his tight grip oozed onto Rohan’s boxer briefs, but Rohan didn’t appear
to mind at all as he shuddered and whimpered. The older man’s chest rose and
fell steadily as he trembled-- he cursed harshly every time Josuke twisted his
hand off his cockhead quickly, then sucked in a shaky breath as Josuke’s wet
hands descended back down on him with another tight wringing motion.
 
“J-Josuke,” Rohan choked out dazedly, almost gurgling. His flushed neck was
bared as Rohan’s head fell back in bliss-- Josuke moaned softly at the sight of
Rohan’s tightening muscles in his beautiful, slender neck. He allowed himself
this one mark-- Josuke nipped gently at the dip in Rohan’s collar bone. Surely,
the short-tempered manga artist wouldn’t mind a barely noticeable lovebite. If
he did, he could get rid of the blemish with Crazy Diamond easily.
 
As Josuke sucked gingerly at the skin, he felt Rohan paw at his chest weakly
but urgently-- breathing, “S-stop, gonna come-- don’t wanna yet, stop.”
 
Smiling, Josuke let go of Rohan’s erection and placed his large, sticky hands
onto Rohan’s skinny hips to helpfully guide the panting man out of his
underwear and pants. Desperately, Rohan kicked the garments off as fast as he
could, adam apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, then arched his hips up
towards Josuke for more friction. It was probably unwise to ever voice it, but
Rohan was absolutely alluring-- adorable, in fact-- like this.
 
Josuke really did like him best when the reclusive, socially awkward man was
opened up-- when his humanity was laid bare. The usually distant and aloof man
always came off more like a caricature of a human being than a real, breathing,
faceted person. Yet now, as he hissed out quiet curses and clawed at Josuke's
back, he was finally being honest about his wants and needs. Rohan's groomed
eyebrows were knitted together, his eyes were clenched shut tightly, and his
pink, wet mouth fell open with a long moan as Josuke gave him another tight
stroke before the riled up manga artist gritted through clenched teeth for
Josuke to “fucking get on with it already.”
 
Beautiful.
 
The teen fell back then onto the stacked pillows, tugging Rohan down with him
by the front of his shirt, and guided Rohan’s slicked up cock to the furrow
created from squeezing his thighs together. Confused, Rohan’s face crinkled up
as Josuke laid back more comfortably and held his legs up as if preparing for
something. Rohan had both his hands pinned on the sides of Josuke’s head, and
looked around lost and unsure of what to do next.
 
“Push here,” instructed Josuke with a coy smile, as he pressed Rohan’s
glistening, slippery cockhead into the crease formed from Josuke's closed legs.
 
With a doubtful grimace, Rohan pushed his hips forward-- allowing Josuke’s hand
to direct the angle of his thrust so that his slippery erection would not only
push between his tight inner thighs but also rut against the back of Josuke’s
erection.
 
 
He paused.
 
Josuke smiled at him giddily. 
 
“Oh,” said Rohan, plainly. He pushed in and out curiously a few more times,
expression faltering quickly even though his pride nagged at the back of his
mind for so easily revealing to Josuke how nice it felt for his needy erection
to be nestled in-between the teen’s smooth, muscular thighs.
 
“Oh?” repeated Josuke with a knowing smirk, ears picking up on Rohan’s throat
catching as he thrusted carefully. Josuke milked Rohan’s inexperienced cock by
wrapping both arms around the back of his knees and squeezing his thighs in
more.
 
He could have sworn that Rohan’s eyes looked like they were about to roll back
when his erection pushed into the warm furrow of Josuke’s now thoroughly
slippery and very, very tight inner thighs. Flustered by the unexpectedly good
sensations, Rohan tried to recollect himself by stopping his movements, but the
mischievous teenager rocked against him-- coaxing a sudden whimper from the
proud man. They exchanged looks-- Rohan chewed his lower lip angrily as he
blushed, and Josuke’s face twisted up sheepishly as he tried to stop a crooked
grin from crossing his face.
 
“Wipe that look off your mug-- how was I supposed to know that you could have
sex using your thighs?”
 
Laughing breathlessly, Josuke shrugged loosely. “I’m not gonna judge-- like I
said, this was how I lost my virginity too, but I didn’t know until my partner
showed me back then. It feels good, right? Not so disappointed anymore, are
ya?” Josuke’s eyes crinkled up from how wide he was smiling, and Rohan turned a
darker red-- he didn’t respond, but continued to rhythmically pump into
Josuke’s thighs. Briefly, Josuke sighed with a shudder from the ticklish but
pleasurable sensation of Rohan’s firm cock pushing into his own erection.
 
“Well-- I still want to know how putting it in feels,” grunted Rohan as he
pumped in and out of Josuke’s thighs at a slow pace, breath hitching up every
time Josuke flexed his thigh muscles to put more pressure on the firm flesh of
Rohan’s erection.
 
“To be honest, I’m curious too-- but that’ll be for later. Nurse outfit, right,
old pervert?”
 
“Sc-school uniform,” corrected Rohan momentarily after a particularly,
agonizing slow push. “Have you ever-- oh, fuck,” panted the older man, unable
to finish his sentence-- Josuke snickered self-satisfiedly as he quickly
stroked the tip of Rohan’s erection as it pushed its way past his thighs.
 
Falling silent, Rohan’s mouth hung open as he panted deeply, starting to fuck
into Josuke’s thighs faster. The smile fell off Josuke’s face as Rohan’s
throbbing length slipped up and down his own cock-- especially when the plump
cockhead would shove into his v-spot-- and Josuke moaned loudly.
 
He met Rohan’s pumps with his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist around
Rohan’s erection as it dipped in and out of his legs with noisy slaps of lube
and skin. Shuddering, Rohan wrapped his arm around the middle of Josuke’s
thighs, holding him in place as his hips snapped forward with more eagerness.
 
“Shit,” cursed Rohan bitterly. Before Josuke could ask what was wrong, Rohan
pushed both of Josuke’s knees to the side into the bed, twisting the teen’s
body, and continued fucking into him. With his other hand, he grabbed Josuke by
the chin and yanked, forcing Josuke’s mouth open to kiss at him desperately-
- sloppy, wet, and noisily.
 
Blinking, Josuke didn’t respond at first-- he felt hot to the tips of his ears
as Rohan sighed and moaned. He kissed the dazed teen feverishly.
 
Josuke hiccuped as he felt something twist inside his lower belly-- then licked
into Rohan’s open mouth. The manga artist keened feebly, the pace of his now
messy thrusts stuttering, as he fell deeper into their now careless kiss.
 
Panting, Josuke turned his head even though Rohan kept mouthing wetly at his
jaw and then neck, seeking wildly for the teen’s soft lips. “R-Rohan, yer gonna
cum soon, right? The dress--”
 
“Fuck the dress, Josuke,” growled Rohan, irritated at Josuke evading his
searching mouth. He wrapped a tight hand around Josuke’s jaw and pulled his
mouth back to his own, biting the teen’s lips and feeling heat surge through
him as the teen moaned weakly.
 
He bit again-- harder, and pulled Josuke’s lower lip with his teeth before
kissing him again with bruising force. Their teeth clacked together as he
thrust harder while making out with the large teenager-- and Josuke sobbed from
the sudden pain before carding his hands harshly through Rohan’s green, sweaty
hair. He was good at enduring pain, but in this context--
 
Josuke was scared to realize that it excited him.
 
He buried the thought quickly, distracting himself by meeting Rohan’s irregular
thrusts by rocking his hips down-- spurred on by Rohan’s pleasure-filled
whines.
 
Sensing that Rohan was frustratingly close-- the manga artist was unraveling as
he could no longer focus enough to kiss Josuke properly or thrust consistently-
- Josuke impulsively pulled his face towards Rohan’s and pressed their wet
foreheads together. Rohan kept cursing under his breath, eyebrows furrowed
worriedly and jaw tight as he tried to search for the tipping point-- the
little push he needed to finally, finally climax. Josuke licked his lips and
encouraged hoarsely, “Come on, come on, come on. You-- you can do it, Rohan,
just focus on how it feels and use me to make it feel better. You have my
permission. Use me to cum. Come on.”
 
Rohan nodded quickly and swallowed hard, whimpering as he dragged his weeping
cock in and out of Josuke’s flushed thighs, feeling his orgasm build and build
without meeting it. Josuke stroked Rohan’s clenched jaw and neck, kissing his
face and whispering whatever came to mind to try to help the desperate virgin-
- “Rohan, you look so beautiful like this-- you’re so fucking hot, Rohan. You
don’t know how much you turn me on. I can’t wait for you to fuck me even harder
next time.” Weakly, Rohan shook his head and almost sobbed-- he wanted to cum
so bad, but he wasn’t used to this kind of stimulation-- he didn’t know what to
do.
 
Seeing Rohan’s mounting frustrations, Josuke hastily tongued the shell of
Rohan’s reddened ears and moaned thickly, “Rohan-sensei, please -- I w-wanna
see you cum all over my belly, please. Wouldn’t it look pretty if you came on
the dress too, sensei? Please, Rohan-- cum on me, please.”
 
“Fuck,” weeped Rohan as he felt Josuke’s hot, wet tongue dip into his ear
again-- and he slapped his hips harshly into Josuke’s ass, jerking in place as
he came thick, white ropes of cum onto Josuke’s exposed abs and the bunched up
dress around Josuke’s trim waist. Rohan sucked in his lips and continued to
buck desperately-- his cock throbbed, but nothing else came out, and yet--
 
He was still cumming, realized Rohan with a weak whimper as his body convulsed
violently for a few more seconds. Finally, after two more shaky bucks of his
hips, he could finally breathe again.
 
"Rohan, fuck, that was so hot,” cried the aroused teen as he pumped himself
with a mix of the lubricant and Rohan’s fresh ejaculate. He felt so dirty-- so
disheveled and debauched-- his lips were bruised, his body was sore, but he
couldn’t deny himself the release he sought. Instead, he gave in,
groaning Rohan’s name as he quickly came all over himself.
 
It was pretty, noted Rohan dreamily, as he watched the arc of Josuke’s spurt as
he came with a shout.
 
He followed the path of the cum and looked down. Rohan smiled gently,
satisfied.
 
The cum did look very attractive on Josuke’s shiny, sweaty skin. Quietly, Rohan
studied the way the more watery parts of cum soaked into the dress in dark
spots-- with some of the thicker, more opaque strands of cum sitting on top of
the fabric. Maybe someday Josuke would let him take photos-- the shaky, blissed
out teen unwrapped underneath him in a soiled dress looked stunningly
beautiful.
 
Rohan leaned down, wrapped a hand around the curve of Josuke’s defined, strong
jaw, and kissed Josuke’s open, panting mouth sweetly.
***** Chapter 12 *****
Chapter Notes
     Are they dating? No one knows.
     (I did a lot of googling for the next few chapters. Do you guys
     remember pagers? I do-- however, I was too young to know how they
     worked when they were still being used. I learned a lot about
     technology and communication in Japan during the 90's, lol. It was
     actually very interesting, though!)
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” interrupted Rohan as he grabbed the
retreating teen’s elbow.
 
“Uh… downstairs? To the guest room?” confusedly explained Josuke as his hands
tightened on the wet towel around his hips. He was lurched forward as Rohan
firmly dragged him back into the bedroom, and then found himself seated onto
the bed in front of the manga artist.
 
“Don’t be stupid. We’re going to sleep together and spoon tonight, obviously.
You better still be in this bed when I’m done showering-- if I find you in the
guest room, I’ll pour ice water on you. And then bring you back upstairs.”
Stomping away, Rohan didn’t wait for Josuke to object. The stunned teen heard
the shower turn on definitively in Rohan’s connected bathroom-- the steam
hadn’t even cleared out from Josuke’s quick rinse in there yet.
 
“Rohan, I gotta go downstairs to grab a change of clothes from the guest room,
though!” hollered Josuke as he started to get up. He thought better though and
then sat back down while pulling a plush pillow into his lap.
 
Unhelpfully, Rohan barked from the shower, “Just wear one of my pajamas!”
 
Turning towards the closet that he had sorted recently, Josuke took a mental
inventory of all the pajamas he had folded and put away. He scrubbed a hand
through his damp bangs and then retrieved the only sleeping clothes he was sure
would fit him comfortably. After he put on the stretchy tank top and silk
pajama bottoms, Josuke aired out the bed covers and examined the sheets. They
looked pretty clean-- most of the physical evidence of their activities was on
the maid dress and a few towels they had wiped down with and placed in a pile
on the ground.
 
Still, he would prefer to launder the sheets and other bed coverings as soon as
possible-- even at home, he would only ever masturbate in the shower to avoid
leaving behind any mess that may suggest to his mom what he had been doing.
Even though there was no mom to catch him, sleeping on sheets possibly soiled
with sweat, saliva, and semen still irked him.
 
Josuke smoothed the blanket back down on the bed and fluffed the pillows. He
lifted up a corner of the blanket and slid into the bed-- potentially gross bed
stuffs aside, the bed was really comfortable. Sitting up to check if Rohan was
still in the shower, Josuke allowed himself to sink into the expensive, plush,
and warm blankets after confirming that the coast was clear. Contentedly, he
sighed as he felt his body relax into the fluffy but firm mattress.
 
 
 
The lights flicked off, and then the bed sunk minutely from Rohan’s light body
entering it.
 
How long had he been dozing?
 
“Josuke, are you still awake?”
 
“Mmm, barely,” yawned Josuke as he felt thin arms awkwardly encircle his waist.
The freshly showered man was warm and damp, sleepily noted Josuke as Rohan’s
nose pressed into his bare shoulder beyond the tank top’s strap.
 
Fidgeting, Rohan adjusted his position as he pressed his knees into the back of
Josuke’s, trying to mimic the position Josuke was in. He shuffled around in
bed-- pulling his pillow this way and that, and inching closer and then further
away from Josuke’s body. The older man stiffly shoved a hand under Josuke’s
pillow, then yanked it back less than a minute later with a dissatisfied noise.
Finally, he asked, “... Am I doing this right?”
 
Tiredly, Josuke rolled over and tucked Rohan’s head under his chin, holding the
smaller man close as he twined their legs together. Josuke yawned again before
nuzzling his nose into Rohan’s green, wet hair.
 
“Yer doin' fine, but ya gotta loosen up more.” He felt Rohan make a legitimate
effort to try to relax-- he unballed the fists he had on Josuke’s chest, then
bodily tried to throw an arm over Josuke’s hip in what appeared to be an
attempt at being casual about cuddling. The sentiment was there, mirthfully
thought the teen, and he appreciated it. After Rohan’s nervous, rapid breathing
stilled, Josuke sleepily offered, “Do you want a good night kiss since you had
a good morning kiss?”
 
Rohan incoherently grumbled into Josuke’s chest-- his breath dancing on
Josuke's pecs through the thin tank top, tickling the teen who was rapidly
drifting back into sleep.
 
Josuke laughed softly before pressing his lips into the top of Rohan’s hair
before finally slumbering.
 
---
 
When Josuke woke, he was very, very confused.
 
Beyond the occasional sleepover at Okuyasu’s, he didn’t expect to open his eyes
and find himself in someone else’s house. A quick glance at the digital alarm
clock on the nightstand right next to him informed him that it was roughly 11:
45AM. There was a note tucked under the alarm clock-- well, it wasn’t quite a
note, but a full sheet of paper from one of Rohan’s large sketchpads with a few
gestures of Josuke sleeping on it. There were some scribbles in the corner.
 
“Had to go to Tokyo for work. Don’t know when I’ll be back. In the meantime,
finish your write-up and track your hours. There’s a spare key for you on my
desk.
 
-Rohan
 
PS: Even though you think I’m made of money, I’m not. Don’t forget to turn off
the air conditioning when you're out.”
 
Josuke reread the note.
 
He flipped the large sheet of paper over-- cursing when he saw charcoal dust
fall off of it and onto the sheets-- to see if there was any other enlightening
information scrawled somewhere. Nothing. Well, on the table were some crisp
bills held together with a paperclip-- but that only added to the mystery
instead of clarifying anything.
 
He reread the note again. No further details could be found-- even in regards
to the money left behind.
 
What the fuck?
 
---
 
As instructed, Josuke turned the air conditioning off when he left. He had
finished his write-ups of the game and interview fairly quickly since he had
nothing else to do after he had washed the bed set, towels, and maid dress then
hung them all out to dry in the part of the yard that didn't face the main
street. After he had finished his write-ups over lunch, he had went back to the
yard and found that the hot, summer sun had dried all of the laundry by then.
It had been blazing outside, but the warm air on his tan skin had felt kind of
nice. For a few, restful moments, Josuke had paused to press his face into the
fresh sheets, breathing in the smell of laundry detergent and the sun. It was
disgustingly domestic, he thought with an awkward chuckle. Then he had brought
everything back in and placed the sheets, towels, and maid outfit where they
belonged.
 
Everything was in order, so there was no reason left for him to remain at
Rohan’s humongous, empty house.
 
Anyway, there was absolutely no way he was just going to sit there and wait for
Rohan to come home-- like a dog waiting for its master-- whenever that would
be. Something about that just felt too intimate.
 
Then again, were they that intimate now? Josuke sucked on a popsicle from
Rohan’s freezer as he walked home-- the sun was going down, but it was still
sticky and warm outside. The cold treat felt nice on his tongue as he carefully
pondered his recent developments with the older man. He had his packed duffel
bag slung over his shoulder, and the yen-- 30,000 in total-- shoved into his
pocket.
 
Was it just money for maintaining the house while he was gone? Rohan and Josuke
had already settled most of the major chunks of payment for his work-- the only
dues left were his hours from this week for idling around and modelling. The
30,000 yen couldn't be work money. Maybe it was money for fooling around
together? He had already made it clear to Rohan that he didn’t want money for
that kind of stuff-- but maybe Rohan had forgotten, or something.
 
While waiting for the crosswalk signal, Josuke finished off his popsicle and
gave the sugary stick a few hard shakes to get the remaining liquid off of it.
He peered at the blurry printing on the popsicle stick.
 
“Congratulations-- winner!” At least, that’s what it looked like it said. The
teen was pretty sure it was a winning stick-- the kanji for lose was way
different, he assured himself. The crosswalk started to beep, signifying that
he could safely cross the street.
 
Josuke stuck the popsicle stick back into his mouth-- he’ll rinse it off when
he got home and redeem it for another popsicle tomorrow.
 
---
 
It wasn’t till almost a week later-- on a Friday evening, actually-- when
Josuke heard back from Rohan.
 
His mother had told him that a large package had arrived for him from Tokyo-
- it was the delivery driver’s last delivery of the day, and he was still
chatting to Tomoko as Josuke curiously gave the box a few nudges with his foot.
 
“Josuke! Don’t just kick at it-- thank the nice man for bringing it to you, and
properly take it upstairs to your room. Don’t you dare leave it in the hallway
to languish,” scolded his feisty mom-- who, despite being in what in her eyes
were seen as “lazy, at-home clothes” was still put together enough that Josuke
could see the delivery man steal looks at her shyly. The delivery man objected
softly to Tomoko's lecturing ("It's fine, ma'am"), but Josuke apologized with a
polite bow for his rudeness. His mom smiled, and the delivery man smiled in
return-- blushing.
 
He didn’t mind his mom flirting-- even though he and his dad were on good terms
now, Josuke wasn’t sure if there was room in the Joestar family for her despite
how warmly they accepted him, the bastard child.
 
It made him a bit sad.
 
In his room, Josuke pushed his summer homework off his desk to clear a space
for the large box. He fumbled around one of his drawers to find something to
open the box with, and settled on using a pen to break the clear packing tape
off the package. Cracking open the lid, he winced at the scratchy, dry noises
of the cardboard rubbing against cardboard. That sound always made his brain
hurt. Wincing, Josuke shook his head until the itchy noise stopped echoing in
his head. Finally, he took a look at his mystery goodies from Tokyo.
 
Sitting on a bed of bubblewrap was a cell phone.
 
“Uh,” started Josuke.
 
Beep beep beep! Beep beep beep!
 
Shit! Josuke swiped the ringing phone up with cupped hands and panickedly threw
himself into his closet to try to muffle the sound. He plunged the phone into a
laundry basket and leaned in close to its obnoxious green screen flashing in
the darkness. Breaking into a sweat, he looked the phone up and down to try to
figure out how to turn it off. Praying that his mom was still talking to the
friendly delivery guy, the teen pressed a bunch of buttons frantically until he
heard a familiar but faraway sounding “Josuke!” from the phone.
 
Slowly, he raised the phone to his ear.
 
“H-hullo?”
 
“Josuke, it’s me.”
 
Rohan.
 
“I-- wha?”
 
“I got you a cell phone-- if you’re wondering how I knew you just received your
package, I estimated how long it would take for you to receive the package
after shipping it overnight, and have been calling you every half hour from my
cell phone.”
 
Josuke thumbed his forehead tiredly.
 
“Again-- what?”
 
“Anyway, I didn't buy unlimited minutes for us-- I didn’t think we would be
separated that often, so it seemed pointless to get an excessive amount of
minutes-- so I’ll make this brief. Make sure you keep your phone charged and on
you at all times. Since you’re my personal assistant, I wanted to make sure I
can always contact you.”
 
Slumping down, Josuke rested exhaustedly against the closet door as he tried to
unpack everything Rohan had said so far.
 
“Why didn’t you get me a beeper? That’s way more normal-- how am I going to
explain to people how I, a normal high schooler, have a cell phone?! Aren’t
these things like tens of thousands of yen? Lots of my classmates have beepers-
- they’re like, free or something with a monthly subscription of 700 yen.”
Rohan once again had no concept of normal. Josuke had seen cell phones on TV
before-- hell, he's even held one when a rich classmate was showing it off
during break time. He didn't know how to operate one though. Also, didn't only
big name business execs and other big wigs own cell phones? Since when did
manga artists also have them? Either way, Josuke worried, he needed to find the
manual fast so he could at least see if there was a silencing feature on it.
Wait, was that a premium feature? Did Rohan buy him a fancy enough cell phone
for that? Actually, was the cell phone a good or bad one? Knowing Rohan, it was
probably a pretty nice one--
 
“I didn’t like the idea of beeping you and then having to wait for you to find
a payphone to call me back with. Anyway, the charger and manual are in the box
with the other items I put in there. Take everything back to the house
tomorrow. You have been taking care of the house, right?” Having settled down a
bit, Josuke could hear the sound of running water in the background-- it
sounded like Rohan was in a restroom.
 
“Uh, well if ya mean watering the plants and eating what’s in the fridge before
it goes bad, then yeah-- wait, when are you coming back?”
 
“I don’t know-- the editors are trying to force an anime adaptation on me now.
I’m not having any of it. It’s tense.”
 
“Oh.” Josuke chewed his lower lip, searching for the right words to comfort the
stressed artist-- Rohan was so hurt and mad about the shitty video game
adaptation already, so an anime adaptation didn’t seem likely to be any better
received. “I’m-- I’m sorry to hear that, actually.” He hoped the sincerity of
what he was saying would get through to the proud artist.
 
“...Yeah, well.” Silence, followed by a gruff cough. “Anyways, as I was saying-
- we have limited minutes that we’re sharing. Make sure you look through and
study everything in the box. I’ve written a few notes for you here and there.
Consider it your next assignment. By the way, fax the write-ups-- they’re done,
right?-- to my editor’s office-- you’ve seen me do it before. Do you need
instructions for that too?”
 
“Um, probably not. I’ve seen you do it enough times by now.”
 
“Okay. Send me your finished write-ups tomorrow when you get in. Call me back
when you’re done with your next assignment. I don’t know when I’ll be home.”
 
“Alright.”
 
“Any questions?”
 
“Er-- why did you leave me money?”
 
“Why not? I figured you’d watch the house while I was gone so you would need
some cash-- go rent yourself a movie or something and watch it downstairs.”
 
Shoot, did Rohan really expect Josuke to wait at home for him the entire time
he was gone? Josuke had been going every other day at best-- after the initial
shock of Rohan abruptly departing for work wore off, he had been enjoying
spending time with his friends. They were all having nice dinners at Tonio’s or
going to the beach to goof off when not studying-- it really felt like summer
break when he had poured sand down the back of Okuyasu's swimshorts. He still
had homework to do though-- maybe he could tell his mom he was going to cram on
summer homework at a friend’s house, and just do it at Rohan’s instead.
 
Josuke couldn't believe that he was making plans to stay at Rohan's house
indefinitely, regardless. A few weeks prior, he would have never guessed that
this would be a major conflict for him during his long-awaited summer vacation.
 
“Oh, okay. You gave me, like, a lot of money, though-- are you planning on
being gone that long?”
 
“No, I want to come home as soon as possible. Being at headquarters actually
resulted in me getting even more work than before-- I’ve been strong-armed into
signing onto a number of projects while here. It’s infuriating, because it’s
getting in the way of making my manga. There’s nothing more important than my
manga,” hissed Rohan bitterly. Josuke waited-- he could hear that Rohan was now
pacing the restroom he had apparently locked himself in for privacy.
Defeatedly, the tired man croaked into the phone,
 
“I just want to be home, Josuke.”
 
“...Yeah,” agreed the teen tiredly as he sat in his dark closet. He realized
suddenly that he was hiding from his mom so that he could have secret
conversations with an older man who pays him for various services. Josuke
crawled out of his closet and laid on the floor to peer under the crack of his
room’s door. He could hear the television set a bit from where he was-- it
appeared that his mom hadn’t notice him getting a phone call from an unfamiliar
phone. Relieved, Josuke crept back into his closet and shut the door.
 
Josuke breathed a sigh of relief. “Either way, it’s good hearin' from you, I
guess.” The teen’s voice dwindled to an embarrassed whisper at the last part-
- what the fuck?! Josuke twisted a hand into his loose sweatpants nervously,
ready to backpedal.
 
On the other line, Rohan snorted loudly.
 
“Of course you miss me. I’ve met with a lot of fans recently, Josuke, as my
work forces me to go around the goddamn media circus since I’m in Tokyo for the
first time in a while. My fans crave my presence and attention since they
haven’t seen me in person for a prolonged period of time-- I wouldn’t be
surprised if you are suffering similar withdrawal symptoms. It’s very
understandable-- I wouldn’t fault you for it.”
 
He rolled his eyes-- good thing Rohan wasn’t there to see it. “Uh huh. How many
minutes didja buy, Rohan?”
 
“300 a month. Anyway, I need to leave-- I have to go to a meeting with the
executive staff. So long.”
 
“Bye.”
 
Carefully, Josuke put the cell phone at the bottom of his laundry basket and
piled anything he could find on top of it before he shut his closet door. It
was time to check the very deep box that he had left on his desk. He still
needed to figure out what he was going to tell his mom about the box-- maybe he
could find something in there that would give him ideas. He tossed the
bubblewrap onto the floor and found a book amongst some smaller boxes-- a book
order for school! That would make sense.
 
There was a sticky note on the front of the book covering the title that read,
“Read this entire thing. I picked this up before I left and read the whole
thing on the train. There are tabs for key points that I’ve also highlighted.”
As explained, Josuke saw a number of colorful tabs sticking out the side of the
book. He flipped through it quickly. There sure were a lot of pictures and
diagrams of-- of…
 
Josuke tore the sticky note off the cover and his eyes quickly skimmed the
title.
 
“The Ins and Outs of Homosexual Sex.”
 
Rohan read this on the train?! Cringing, Josuke thought about how the clueless
manchild probably didn't even use a book cover to hide his shame, and most
likely read it openly during his commute. Wait--
 
Suddenly filled with terror, Josuke paled as his attention changed to the other
boxes in the package.
 
With a gulp, he opened the first of the unmarked, discreet-looking boxes. It
rattled in his hands.
 
It was a dildo with a flared base--there was another sticky note in the box. It
said, “Train your butt with this.”
 
That was box one out of five.
***** Chapter 13 *****
Chapter Notes
     Edit: Oh! I didn't mean to make it sound like Working Arrangement is
     ending anytime soon. I just meant that I'm really looking forward to
     writing other things too. I'm refusing to write my other fics until
     I'm done with Working Arrangement to help motivate myself to finish.
     I really enjoy and have a lot of fun writing Working Arrangement-- I
     just have a lot of other fic ideas that I'm excited for too.
     Actually, josuhan isn't my OTP (it's high up there, but my OTP is
     caejose) but Working Arrangement was too good of an idea for me to
     pass up writing. By my estimate, I think there's at least five to ten
     chapters left. It's part of why I am so diligent about trying to
     update as much as possible. Sorry if I alarmed anyone!!!!! Thank you
     for reading.
     I've mentioned con prep a few times. If any of you nice readers are
     ever around for a con I'm at, please come visit me sometime. My next
     con is Palm Springs Comic Con on May 7th. I will also be at Akon in
     Texas (!!!!) on from June 3-5. Then later AX, which is July 1-4. And
     then Chico-con August 27. I'm still trying to get into San Japan on
     September 2-4 through its art contest since I didn't get in through
     the normal artist alley application... Anyway! So that's one of the
     reasons why I don't update as much as I want-- I do cons once a
     month. If you want Jojo merch, I have it. ;3 Here's some photos of my
     recent charms:
     https://twitter.com/justchien/status/713736774971957248
     (End of edit.)
     There's a Josuke and Rohan one. ;333333
     After I finish Working Arrangement, I want to write a caejose fic
     with my friend. I also want to write a couple of really nasty
     kirafumi fics. Mmhmm.
     Thanks for all the super great comments, kudos, and bookmarks! I'm so
     glad that you're all still here with me on this fic. I meant to post
     up another chapter with sex, but I think this chapter ended on a nice
     note so the next chapter will have sex. I think when I'm done with
     this fic, I'll make a chart that designates which chapters have sex
     and which ones do not, so people who just want to get to the down and
     dirty can skip to those. Still, I honestly think all the build-up
     that's been carefully set-up makes the sex even better though!
Ring a ling a ling! Ring a ling a ling!
 
Josuke batted around blindly towards the unfamiliar electronic beeping-- wait,
was that the new ringtone he set last night?
 
Ring a ling a ling! Ring a ling a ling!
 
Actually, was it still last night? It was awfully dark in the room.
 
Groaning, Josuke blearily sat up in Rohan’s amazingly comfortable bed and
blinked at his surroundings. Where was the damn thing? For something that was
supposed to be portable, the cell phone was pretty unwieldy-- it should have
been easy to find. Judging by the muffled sounds of its bit-chip melody, it was
probably in the bed somewhere. Slowly and hazily, Josuke came to remember
playing around with the settings in bed after he finished copying Koichi’s math
homework. Wait, had he fallen asleep while messing around with the phone?
 
Oh! It might be under his pillow then-- Josuke had a habit of sleeping with one
arm under the pillow. Sure enough, he dug the plastic, grey phone after it had
stopped ringing out from under his favorite pillow. Holy hell, Rohan’s pillows
must be really expensive if he could sleep on a chunky cell phone without
feeling it-- that, or Josuke must had been really tired. What was he doing
again?
 
The dim green screen of the cell phone abruptly started to vibrate and flash
again in his hands. His dilated eyes stung from the obnoxious colors in the
lightless bedroom.
 
Ring a ling a ling--
 
 
Beep.
 
“Morning,” yawned Josuke through the receiver.
 
“Finally picked up.” Rohan’s impatient tone reached the tired teenager through
his morning grogginess. There was quite a bit of background noise from Rohan’s
end again this time-- Josuke could hear the calm voice of a woman announcing
the arrival of a train.
 
He clasped a large hand around the side table’s clock and dragged it into his
blanket-covered lap. It was 5:00AM. “Mmhmm. I sure did.”
 
“I’m boarding the first train right now-- I’ll be back in about three and a
half hours. Are you home?”
 
Home was… Rohan’s house? If that was the case, then yes, he was home. “Uhh.
Sure am.”
 
“Good. Stay home until I’m back.”
 
Absentmindedly, Josuke chuckled lowly, “Is this a booty call?”
 
There were the sounds of a luggage’s wheels whizzing across the platform as
Rohan strode to the gate, and then the clatter of him dragging it into the
train. “...What’s a booty call?”
 
“It’s when ya call someone to tell them ya wanna fuck.” Josuke lazily slid the
clock vaguely back into place and then flopped back down, laughing.
 
“Oh. Yeah, I guess it is a booty call then.” An employee of the train asked to
check Rohan’s ticket. From the scratchy noises, it seemed like he was cradling
the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he searched his pockets for a
ticket.
 
“Mmhmm. Cool.”
 
“See you in three and a half hours. I’m getting seated. Be ready for me when I
get home.”
 
“Yeah.”
 
Josuke let the phone bodily drop onto the bed and then rolled himself back up
into the blankets to sleep.
 
---
 
When he startled awake, he found that he couldn’t quite get up.
 
There, laying down on top of the blankets face down with his outer coat still
on, was Rohan. Passed out, evidently, thought Josuke as he gently patted the
older man’s back. All he got in response was a small grunt.
 
The clock-- strange, its unexpected position made it seem like it had been
pushed nearly off the edge of the table-- read 11:30AM. Looking up, he saw
Rohan’s discarded designer rolling luggage on the ground-- handle still
extended. Carefully, he slid out of bed and then folded his half of the blanket
over onto the sleeping man, making a Rohan sandwich. Then he lightly stepped
over the luggage and out of the room, into the hallway, and shut the bedroom
door.
 
Josuke scratched his stomach under his loose sleeping shirt and looked around
aimlessly.
 
Was Rohan supposed to be home today?
 
He considered waking the man up-- then again, what was the point? It’s not like
Rohan adhered to any sort of normal sleeping schedule. The dead tired man could
probably use the rest after busting his ass all over Tokyo the past two weeks.
Josuke nodded empathetically-- if he were in Rohan’s shoes, he would cry with
joy to finally be in a familiar bed to catch up on sleep.
 
Anyway, it was getting close to lunch time-- Koichi was probably busily running
around at his summer job as a busser at their local cafe. He should return the
homework his friend had so graciously lent him-- then maybe bring back some
coffee for Rohan too. It would be the kind thing to do.
 
Yeah, that seemed like a solid plan. Nodding self-satisfiedly again to himself,
Josuke tiptoed back into the bedroom to grab the clothes he had laid onto a
chair near the closet after he had finished doing laundry yesterday afternoon.
The outfit was one less thing to fold.
 
“Ach!” yiped Josuke as his foot stubbed something angular and hefty-- he heard
the scratchy whirling of his cell phone spinning across the cold hardwood floor
before it cracked into the molding at the base of the wall. Shit!
 
Cautiously, Josuke crouched up from holding his aching toe to peek into the
bed. Rohan was still asleep.
 
Gathering up his clothes and the amazingly unharmed phone, Josuke creeped out
of the room as quietly and quickly as he could manage with his throbbing foot
to change in the hallway.
 
---
 
“Ah! Josuke!” chirped Koichi as he saw the familiar pompadour haircut of his
tall friend over the lunch crowd jostling in front of the counter. Excitedly,
the small teen excused himself to his manager with a polite bow before he hung
his apron up behind the register.
 
Squeezing between the many patrons trying to get their order in before their
lunch break ended, Koichi stopped numerous times to apologize as he tried to
worm his way out to his waiting friend. Seeing his short classmate’s
difficulties, Josuke stepped away from the fence of the outside patio and cut
into the crowd smoothly with his large stature-- people simply stepped aside
for the wide-shouldered, lanky teen.
 
“Koichi, over here!” he called out with a smile and outstretched hand-- Koichi
latched on to the hand and popped out of the crowd like a cork coming off a
wine bottle, and bodily bounced into Josuke’s legs. He was steadied by the
familiar grip of Crazy Diamond, and grinned a thanks to the stand as he righted
himself with its help.
 
“Phew! Thanks for that. What brings you here today, Josuke? Didn’t I tell you
that the lunch rush is the worst time to come visit?” They both settled against
the outdoor patio fence as Koichi caught his breath, dabbing his sweaty
forehead with a pretty handkerchief that had his girlfriend’s name hand
stitched into it.
 
“Haha, yeah-- looks like that didn’t stop Yukako from coming to visit ya, huh?”
 
The raven-haired beauty looked up from her book with a sincere smile-- though
there was an edge to it, as if saying, “Yes, acknowledge my dedication to
Koichi-- I want everyone in the world to see how deep our love is.” She had her
own corner of the outdoor seating staked out. Koichi’s bag and her own were
hooked onto the chair adjacent to her. In front of Yukako was a vase of roses
instead of the standard dandelions that the other tables sported, along with a
couple of textbooks.  It looked like she had even brought her own umbrella-
- surely one with UV protection, as the lining was a thick, dark material-- to
prop up under the cafe’s existing sun umbrella. As Josuke curiously tilted his
chin up to analyze the other hallmarks of her claiming that table as her
Exclusive Koichi-viewing Corner, her eyes darkened dangerously. Josuke
instinctively looked away as a shiver ran up his spine.
 
“Oh-- yeah, she’s here all the time. Uh, she’s waiting for me to get off work
so we can walk home together to study and stuff. Um, but she doesn’t wait that
long, since I’m just a part-timer...” Yukako blew him a kiss, and Koichi
blushed darkly. He coughed into his hand and turned his attention back to
Josuke.
 
“That’s,” paused Josuke, acutely aware that Yukako was still blowing kisses
even though Koichi had shyly looked away, “...Very sweet. Speaking of homework,
I’m here to return the math sheets ya lent me-- they were really helpful, man!”
 
“Ah, so that’s why you’re here! Thanks! Have you been studying at the library?
All of us came by your house yesterday but your mom said you were studying
outside.”
 
“Er, I am. My mom is always saying that I’m too distracted by video games, so I
figured I’d get myself out of the house so I wouldn’t be tempted to go play 'em
and end up goofing off.” Not entirely untrue-- Rohan’s house didn’t have
video games (other than the currently unreleased Pink Dark Boy game), and his
TV wasn’t even connected to cable-- so Josuke had been getting surprisingly a
lot of studying in to make up for the time he had spent his summer working for
Rohan or shopping for his own goodies.
 
Oh yeah, goodies!
 
“By the way, Koichi, how much do ya got saved up?”
 
“Huh? Oh, well-- a bit, but to be honest, I’m saving it to take, uh...” Koichi
bent forward a bit and covered the side of his mouth with his hand, eyes
darting towards Yukako cautiously before he used his other hand to wave Josuke
to bend down closer to him. Josuke crouched deeply and put an arm around
Koichi’s small shoulders, effectively preventing Yukako from lipreading
whatever precious secret Koichi was about to reveal. “I want to take Yukako out
on a proper date.” Koichi looked seriously at Josuke as he whispered this, a
determined air about him.
 
“That’s great, dude! Listen, I was thinking-- I got some free tickets,” a lie,
but not quite-- Rohan had been giving him extra here and there, so the tickets
bought with that kind of money were essentially free, “to the theme park in S
city. We should go sometime! Just gotta check if you can pay for bus fare and
snacks, yanno? You two can even break off the main group to enjoy a date at the
theme park, just don’t forget to meet up with us for a few rides at least!”
 
Koichi hopped up excitedly, nearly smashing his head into Josuke’s nose if not
for Josuke’s faster reflexes that granted him enough time to hop up too, “Are
you serious? Wow, how’d you get those tickets?”
 
“Just lucky, I guess. I got six tickets. So we can all go-- you, me, Yukako,
Okuyasu, Mikitaka, and--”
 
“Rohan-sensei?”
 
Josuke’s stomach did a flip immediately at the name. He willed himself to calm
down-- nobody knew that he was involved with Rohan-sensei. There was no reason
for him to be jumpy, he reminded himself.
 
Nonchalantly, Josuke pressed a hand against his cheek before resuming, “Huh?
No, I was gonna say Yuya or one of those other guys from school.”
 
“Right! Sorry, I just remembered that Rohan-sensei had been trying to get me to
go to that same theme park before summer started. Actually, I totally forgot,
but he said he had already bought tickets back then, so he wouldn’t need to use
one of your free tickets if he came with us.” True--Josuke remembered that
tidbit from a conversation they had a few days ago. Rohan had suggested Josuke
go to the theme park to take reference photos for him if he was getting stir
crazy from studying at home. Josuke had then flippantly remarked that he was
surprised that Rohan did not already have theme park photos, and then Rohan
irritably had explained extensively how Yukako got in-between him and Koichi’s
theme park date.
 
That was quite a sad conversation, Josuke remembered awkwardly. Afterwards,
Josuke had felt obligated to use one of Rohan’s disposable cameras to go take
some reference photos of a small, local festival that had been happening in
town that afternoon. Just a little something to surprise the lonely man with
when he got back from his Tokyo business trip.
 
“Oh-- um, well I guess he could come too if he wanted to.”
 
Lighting up, Koichi balled his hands into small fists and nodded quickly,
exclaiming, “I’m sure he would love to! He keeps saying he needs to get more
references-- especially of kids-- but that it’s hard for him to photograph kids
in public without their parents or the cops getting suspicious. I think his
words were like,” Koichi stood up primly and adopted an even, low voice
reminiscent of Rohan’s, “‘But you see, Koichi, a theme park is filled with
children! Nobody will notice if I’m just a tourist taking pictures of a popular
attraction that just happens to have children in a photo!’”
 
Josuke scoffed and scrunched his face up disapprovingly. God, Rohan was utterly
unbelievable.
 
“Ha, whatta creep. Isn’t it illegal to take pictures of people without their
consent?”
 
Relaxing back into his normal stance, Koichi worried, “Yeah, that’s what I told
him-- but he’s so sure that he could argue that the child just happened to be
in his camera frame. I wonder if he’ll get arrested someday.”
 
“Jesus,” breathed Josuke softly. Koichi really was a great guy-- so concerned
for the socially inept manchild known as Rohan. The very same asshole that
would regularly manipulate the short student into hanging out with him. Despite
everything awful Rohan had ever done to him, Koichi was still concerned that
Rohan would be justly arrested for doing something Very Illegal. Now quiet,
Koichi was deep in thought as he glanced down at the cafe’s pretty brick
sidewalk, troubled greatly by the older man who was his self-proclaimed best
friend that he felt responsible for. Breaking the silence between them, Josuke
placed a reassuring hand onto Koichi’s shoulder. “Well, whaddaya say? You still
haven’t said if you wanna go yet-- you’ve just been talkin' about Rohan.”
 
Koichi snapped out of his gloom and smiled again, before excusing, “Sorry,
you’re right. Yes, I want to go!”
 
“Great! Maybe it’s good karma that got us these tickets, yanno? We deserve it
after all the work we did saving the town from a bunch of stand psychos!” He
firmly gave Koichi a few claps on the back for their Good Work, and his friend
winced but laughed again.
 
“For sure! So when do you wanna go--”
 
Ring a ling a ling! Ring a ling a ling!
 
Koichi and Josuke both tilted their heads at the same time-- what was that
unfamiliar noise?
 
Ring a ling a ling! Ring a ling a ling!
 
Aw fuck! Is that the new ringtone he set? Shit, he didn’t turn the phone back
to silent. Shit, shit, shit, thought Josuke as his mind raced to find an
excuse.
 
“Josuke, do you have a cell phone?” innocently asked Koichi as he pointed at
the source of the sound-- while Josuke’s loose summer shorts were baggy with
deep enough pockets that the outline of the phone couldn’t be seen, the sound
was clearly emanating from him. He stuck a hand into his pocket and yanked it
out into plain sight.
 
“Oh-- no, it’s a spare one that my grandpa used to have so he could get in
contact with my mom. It hasn’t been used for a while, so I charged it recently
so she could get a hold of me too.” Please don’t notice how new the model
looked, prayed Josuke.
 
“That’s a nice idea! Are you gonna answer that? It’s probably her then.”
 
“It’s fine, it’s probably not important. Look, it stopped ringing already!”
Sure enough, the phone had reached the end of its rings and sent Rohan to
voicemail. “Gee, look at the time too! Sorry that I’ve kept you for so long-
- do you have to get back to work?” offered Josuke quickly, his tone fast and
rushed as he crammed the phone back into his pocket. He hated lying and he
didn't even know if Koichi was buying it, but he didn’t have time to feel
guilty about it-- Rohan usually called back immediately. Josuke thrusted a
finger towards the clock inside the cafe, causing Koichi to turn to look at it.
With Koichi’s attention elsewhere, Josuke’s and Crazy Diamond’s grips crushed
the phone in his pocket before it could ring again. He winced-- he’ll just put
it back together again later. Sorry, Rohan.
 
“Gosh, you’re right! Sorry, Josuke, I gotta run-- can you just give my homework
back to Yukako? She has my bag.”
 
“Yeah man! Thanks again-- just ask the gang when they’re free and we’ll work
out a time to go. Have a great day at work!” Nervously, he waved as Koichi
dashed back into the rambunctious but much smaller lunch crowd. When he looked
at Yukako again, she was gazing lovingly into the cafe, watching her boyfriend
hurriedly put his apron back on. That’s cute, sort of. Josuke shifted his small
side bag off his shoulder to take out the folder with Koichi’s homework in it-
- he suspected he could drop the papers onto Yukako’s table without her even
noticing. Her eyes weren’t only for Koichi-- they were always on Koichi. Though
whether she was looking at him with romantic eyes or an alarmingly unhealthy
amount of obsession was sometimes unclear.
 
If that’s what couples were like, he and Rohan definitely weren’t a couple.
 
---
 
Once Josuke rounded the block-- he was heading towards the grocery store since
he still hadn’t picked up any lunch and also needed to replenish the fridge he
had been depleting when he stayed over-- Josuke called out Crazy Diamond to
reassemble the jumbled cell phone parts rattling around in his pocket. The
intact, brand new phone laid in his palm after its quick assembly, and Josuke
held down the side button to power it back on.
 
Seconds after it had finished booting up, it started ringing again.
 
Ring a ling a ling!
 
Josuke pressed the green call accept button and breathed out anxiously, ready
for a tongue lashing. However, he held the phone up to his ear and heard
nothing.
 
“Er, Rohan?”
 
“Josuke,” breathed the manga artist gruffly.
 
Perplexed, Josuke waited for Rohan to continue on his own, but instead the man
on the other side of the line said nothing else.
 
He remembered the last time Rohan had given him the silent treatment-- it was
when he was face down on the ground, throwing a quiet tantrum over Josuke’s
thumbnails getting chosen over his own. Sighing, Josuke changed course from the
grocery store to a nearby park that was usually empty due to its diminutive
size and somewhat neglected state. Briskly, he walked there-- Rohan on the line
the entire time, burning their precious minutes, but unwilling to say anything
unless prompted to.
 
Spotting a still functional swing in the deserted park, Josuke toed off his
slip-ons before stepping into the hot sand and plopping himself onto the
squeaky, rusty swing. He gave a few unsteady kicks to get the swing going, but
stopped as its old chains started to scream sharply. Josuke settled on digging
his toes into the scalding sand-- letting the heat sink into his feet until the
warmth made his muscles relax.
 
“What’s wrong?” he asked now that he had properly braced himself for whatever
the petty man was going to throw at him.
 
Softly, Rohan said, “You were supposed to be home.” The disappointment was
evident in his strained voice.
 
“I was home-- I’ve been home, for a few days, in fact. When I woke up, you were
asleep. I didn’t know you were coming back today, or--”
 
“I called you! You picked up and talked with me about how I’m coming home
today! I took the first train home this morning, and was due to be here at 8:
30AM. I told you already,” whined Rohan.
 
“You did? I don’t remember you calling me.” Shit, did Rohan really call him?
 
“Check your call history.”
 
Josuke lowered the phone and used the soft buttons to search for the call
history log. He nearly accidentally hung up on the waiting man before he backed
off the wrong button and found the right one to open up the menu he was looking
for.
 
There it was. Wait, 5:00AM?!
 
“Well, no wonder I don’t remember you calling me-- you called me at freakin' 5
in the morning, Rohan.” This perfectly reasonable explanation was apparently
not convincing enough for Rohan, however.
 
“I told you I was going to be home, and you said okay-- that you’d be ready
when I got here.”
 
“Ready for what?”
 
“The booty call.”
 
He pulled the phone away from his ear again and placed a hand over his face.
“Oh my god,” mouthed Josuke. After getting his emotions in check, Josuke put
the phone to his ear again. “You, the adult, are upset 'cause I wasn’t ready as
soon as you got home fer a goddamn booty call?”
 
“Yes!”
 
“Rohan, what the hell…” Unsure of what to say next, Josuke fell silent as he
massaged his forehead with the meat of his hand.
 
Silence again.
 
Defiantly, Rohan finally sniffed and said, “What? I was really looking forward
to coming home these past two weeks. They’ve been working me really hard out
here, and I’m-- I’m so drained. Why is it so unreasonable that I’ve been
anxious to come home, Josuke?” His voice trailed off near the end, and Josuke
legitimately worried that Rohan might be crying. Before he could ask if the
pouting man was okay, Rohan continued, “I was really looking forward to being
home, with you.”
 
Taken aback, Josuke felt a pang in his chest. What the fuck? Now he felt bad.
 
He sighed long and tiredly, then kicked some of the sand underneath his feet as
he considered this. The stressed out older man did sound like he was in worse
and worse shape every time he called Josuke from Tokyo, and would often briefly
ramble-- with lots of colorful profanity-- about the publishing company
unrelentingly assigning him to one project after another while carting him
around from place to place for meet and greets with other companies and fans.
 
Mumbling, Rohan repeated, “I called you.”
 
Josuke slumped to the side, head against the swing’s chain. He could smell the
salty old metal in the humid air, as he pondered what to say.
 
“Yeah, you did. I see that. Admittedly, that’s my bad and I’m sorry-- but
Rohan, ya can’t honestly expect me to remember everything that we talk about if
you call me at 5:00AM.”
 
After a few beats, Rohan relented bitterly, “Fine. I’m sorry too. But you
weren’t awake when I got home so I joined you in bed, but then you weren’t even
there when I woke up. You can’t expect me to not be disappointed.”
 
“Okay,” acknowledged the tall teen. Absently, he kept toeing at the sand.
 
Finally, Rohan asked, “So are you coming home?”
 
“What, right now? I was about to get groceries for us.”
 
“Please come home, Josuke.”
 
The pang in his chest came back, and Josuke twisted his hand into his shirt-
- unsure of what to do about the sensation.
 
“Alright.”
***** Chapter 14 *****
Chapter Notes
     (lifts leg up slowly)
Rohan was sitting at the bottom of the stairs-- still in the same outfit he had
been in when dozing on top of the bed sheets that morning-- anxiously tapping
his cell phone on his knee. He stopped and looked up-- green eyes glittering
briefly-- as Josuke swung the front door open. Their phones matched-- the only
difference was that Rohan’s was white, while his own was grey.
 
Somehow, it made him feel a bit happy that Rohan was waiting for him-- that he
really meant it when he bitterly admitted to Josuke that he was looking forward
to coming home, to him.
 
“’m home,” announced Josuke casually as he toed off his slip-on shoes and hung
his small bag onto the coat rack neatly.
 
“Welcome home,” answered Rohan as he stiffened up into what was probably an
attempt at looking poised instead of wanting and lonely. However, he still
managed to look so small, perched on the lowest step with his thin legs folded
in front of him.
 
Josuke squeezed his large body onto the same step-- pressing himself firmly
against the manga artist, who looked at him without withdrawing from his spot,
bewildered. They saw each other properly for the first time in two weeks.
 
Josuke’s tanned skin was damp from his brisk walk home in the inescapable
humidity of the warm summer. His uneven tan lines that striped his red
shoulders were visible from his loose tank top. His feet were no longer sandy
from the park, but still looked dusty on the clean, wooden floor. Meanwhile,
Rohan was wearing a silky, mint-colored dress shirt with pressed, white skinny
jeans. At first glance, Josuke would not have guessed that Rohan had just
rolled out of bed. What gave him away was his signature headwear. Rohan’s
distinctive headband was still on, and Josuke noticed with an amused glint that
despite how proper Rohan looked overall, he could see small indents in the
older man’s forehead from accidentally sleeping with it on.
 
They had been looking at each other for quite a while.
 
“Well?” coaxed Josuke lightheartedly.
 
Uneasiness settled in-- resulting in Rohan quirking an eyebrow with growing
annoyance as he questioned the mirthful teenager, “Well what?”
 
“Come on-- it's yer turn.”
 
Realizing what Josuke was expecting, Rohan blushed lightly as he looked away.
 
“I’m home,” he muttered, finally.
 
Josuke chanced touching his hand to Rohan’s chin to guide Rohan’s lips towards
his own, laughing softly as he said,
 
“Welcome home.”
 
---
 
He had taken a chance and it was worth it, concluded Josuke as he ran a hand
down the side of his neck where Rohan's nails had caught him after
embarrassedly pushing Josuke away. It was barely a scratch. He didn’t mind it-
- especially since the mark was partially his own fault for trapping the
smaller man in his arms and teasing him relentlessly about being so difficult
when it came to showing how excited he was to be reunited with Josuke. The
manga artist had blanched at this before he started to struggle-- like a pissed
off cat trying to claw and squirm out of the grips of an overenthusiastic dog-
- while squawking that he would never be honest with Josuke about his desires
and feelings ever again.
 
Josuke did not let go though, and eventually Rohan had gone limp in his arms
with defeat. Rohan’s head had fallen back as he grunted uselessly, unable to do
anything about being held in place between Josuke’s thick, muscular arms and
broad chest.
 
“You’re smothering me to death,” was all he had said.
 
As payback for all the fuss, Josuke had nipped at Rohan’s adam apple-
- approximately near where Rohan had scratched him-- and then kissed him
properly after saying again, “Welcome home, Rohan.”
 
They had settled into another series of slow kisses, and the mood was sweet at
first. Then Josuke had pulled back to slowly open his eyes, and startled at
Rohan’s bright green eyes staring at him with a worrying intensity.
 
Unnerved, Josuke had loosened his grip and asked, “What is it?”
 
Rohan had peered severely at Josuke, eyebrows knitting together as he searched
his mind for words to describe what was bothering him. Eventually, he found it-
- and he had stated, plainly, “I just realized that this is the first time I’ve
said ‘I’m home’ to someone in five years.”
 
Josuke couldn’t help wincing at that new tidbit about Rohan’s Increasingly Sad
Sounding Life, and he winced again recalling it now while stripping in the
guest bathroom.
 
Upstairs, he could hear the pipes squeal as Rohan took a shower to physically
and also symbolically remove all traces of his Business Trip From Hell from his
body and mind. Josuke peered at the bundle of items that Rohan had laid out for
him earlier while waiting for Josuke to come home, then blushed reflexively as
he remembered each individual part of the bundle.
 
Stepping into the shower, Josuke reassured himself that he’ll think about
Rohan’s Special Request after he had freshened up a bit.
 
---
 
It wasn’t that Rohan was very convincing when he asked Josuke for a Special
Request, mulled Josuke as plucked at the pleated skirt. Or maybe Rohan was more
convincing than Josuke expected? Except-- well, maybe it was that Josuke
sometimes felt a bit sorry for Rohan, and it was mixing Josuke all up inside
with--
 
Other emotions?
 
He wasn’t quite sure, but regardless, he found himself in a familiar situation
again. This time, however, he was in the school uniform that Rohan had been
fixating on. It was basic-- a white blouse with a red bow, layered under a
khaki-colored sweater that was loose and fluffy. He peered down and saw his
almost naked legs under the short, dark blue pleated skirt. He was wearing
black knee-highs.
 
Josuke gave himself a once-over in the guest bathroom’s mirror as the steam
cleared the room through the cracked door.
 
Actually, he liked how he looked in this outfit-- it wasn’t like the dark
sailor suits that his classmates, such as Yukako, wore. Yukako’s outfit was
plenty nice-- he always thought that the dark uniforms of his high school were
very formal looking, and it instilled a sense of elegance and pride amongst the
students. Even students like him and Okuyasu who customized their uniforms
still maintained the dark colors and overall silhouette. However, the severity
of their uniforms could be a bit much at times.
 
Josuke pulled the long sweater sleeves over his palms-- letting only the tips
of his fingers poke out from the sleeve-- and pressed a hand to his mouth. He
admired how he looked in the mirror. The sweater softened his muscular frame,
and the high-waisted skirt bloomed nicely around his hips in the semblance of
curves. He felt a bit proud of how nicely put together he was. It wasn’t about
looking like a girl-- it was just about looking good, to him. Not to mention,
he had a bit of an emotional attachment to school uniforms. He was a high
schooler, after all.
 
Guiltily, he remembered letting his eyes linger sometimes when he had spotted
students from other schools walking by in the mall in their uniforms. When
Koichi had asked him about staring too long, Josuke said that he was jealous
that the blazers were so well-fitted.
 
It was a half-lie-- Koichi was such a good guy that it made people around him
want to be good too, so Josuke only relented later in private to Okuyasu that
he couldn’t look away from the way the other student’s bodies shifted under the
nicely tailored uniforms. Okuyasu had agreed with a firm nod, saying that he
too couldn’t stop staring at how the plaid, pleated skirts had flared over the
other school’s student’s curvy bottoms. They had a good time talking about
their favorite kinds of uniforms-- summer sailor suits with bows, short pleated
skirts with stripes, smart blazers with ties, and so on.
 
Josuke peeked at his cute outfit, then his eyes drifted up to the ridiculous
accessory on top of his head.
 
What he wasn’t so sure about when it came to this round of dressing up were the
dog ears headband, collar, and fluffy dog tail. Similar to how he reacted to
the maid uniform, Josuke was definitely impressed with how nicely made the dog
dress-up accessories was. The headband framed his hair-- left down unstyled
once again, but this time as part of Rohan’s Special Request-- and face nicely,
while the perky ears perched on his head were proportionately sized.
Thankfully, the collar was not adorned with anything tacky and/or dangly-- like
a tag, or some other decoration. The collar was made of actual leather too, so
it didn’t feel sticky and cheap against his damp skin-- instead, it felt nice
and sturdy, which might actually be a worrisome detail. Josuke gulped. What did
a costume collar need to be sturdy for?!
 
The fluffy dog tail was the biggest problem, though.
 
It was clipped onto a butt plug.
 
---
 
“Rohan, ’m comin' in,” politely warned Josuke while knocking on Rohan’s door to
step into the master bedroom. On the floor, surrounded by his unpacked things,
was the freshly showered manga artist in his lounging clothes. His head snapped
up and down as he expertly assessed Josuke’s ensemble, and then he grabbed his
satchel. Flipping open the front, Rohan slipped out his travel sketchbook-- it
was still a sizable booklet, but much smaller than the large drawing pads he
would sometimes cart around town for en plein air study sessions.
 
He opened to the latest page and wordlessly held it out in front of Josuke,
eyes sparkling with excitement.
 
“Wow, those are very-- accurate,” regarded Josuke as he bent forward and
digested the two page spread in front of him. There were numerous sketches of
Josuke in the exact outfit Rohan had requested of him. The drawings were in
various styles-- some were photorealistic, and others made it look like Josuke
was a character from his manga. The sketches were undoubtedly of Josuke
regardless of the style, though. That’s how good Rohan's practiced hand was
able at capturing Josuke on paper. It was unnerving, actually. However, after
studying the sketches,
 
“Almost accurate,” corrected Rohan as he put his sketchbook away and got up
from his circle of luggage. All too soon, he was in Josuke’s personal space-
- squeezing in between the door and Josuke to look behind him. “Ah, wait-
- there it is.”
 
Josuke sucked in a breath as he felt a jerk from Rohan grabbing the fluffy tail
around its middle, causing the butt plug to shift dangerously within him
suddenly. He untangled Rohan’s hands from the dog tail and whirled around,
holding the back of the skirt down to prevent it from floating up from his
movements.
 
“Careful-- yer gonna pull it out!” warned Josuke.
 
Curiously, Rohan stepped towards Josuke with an outstretched hand, wondering
out loud, “I thought it would stay put because you’ve been practicing with it.
You have been practicing, right?”
 
He kept coming forward, and Josuke realized that he had been walking backwards
instinctively. Josuke felt the back of his knees hit the bed-- and he accepted
the opportunity to sit down, positioning the tail between his legs to prevent
Rohan from grabbing the butt plug again.
 
“I did, but I didn’t practice walkin' around the house with a butt plug in,
like a fuckin' weirdo pervert!” corrected Josuke, squeezing his thighs shut.
Rohan fell to his knees in front of him and then slid his hands up Josuke’s
thighs under the pleated skirt, humming appreciatively. Linking their hands
together to deter Rohan’s hands from wandering further, Josuke tightened his
grip even as the older man pouted childishly. Gradually, he acquiesced, and put
his face down into the seam between Josuke’s tightly shut thighs.
 
If Rohan had been wearing a black office worker suit, then he totally would
have matched the cover of a porn video that Josuke had seen before. It was
something like, “Salaryman’s Ultimate High School Girl Fantasy!” and the front
of the box was of a typical middle-aged office worker with his head cradled
gently in the lap of an actress dressed up in a school uniform. Most of the
video was of older men being pampered by the actress-- who was an adult trying
her best to act younger. The entire video was a bit disappointing, really. The
deja vu sent a shiver up his back as he felt Rohan’s even breathing between his
thighs.
 
Rohan really was a dirty old man, concluded Josuke as he raked a hand through
Rohan’s long, damp, green bangs that were tickling the tops of his bare legs.
 
After a few strokes, Rohan abruptly looked up with his mouth drawn into a tight
line. Josuke stopped combing the water out of the man’s hair, taken aback by
the sudden movement.
 
Rohan then placed his head back down-- Josuke could feel him rub his cheek
against his legs contentedly-- and murmured, “Hmm. I like this.”
 
I like you, thought Josuke.
 
Wait, what?!
 
Swiftly, Josuke sat further back onto the bed, letting Rohan’s head fall out of
his lap (“Guh!”) as he recoiled from that unwelcome thought. Did he like Rohan?
Didn’t he just find Rohan hot? Didn’t he also just find Rohan kind of sad and
pathetic? Maybe distance really did make the heart grow fonder? That might be
all it was! They had spent so much time together recently that not having Rohan
around for two weeks was, somehow, weird.
 
Besides, he didn’t want Rohan to have the self-satisfaction about being right
that Josuke had a crush on him! No way. Was Rohan even right, though? Did
Josuke have a full-blown crush on a massive pissbaby of an adult?
 
Having face planted into the mattress, Rohan looked up slowly, irritated. He
hoisted himself onto the bed and bodily charged at the fretting teen, who
automatically rolled over defensively onto his stomach, smoothly dodging him.
 
Bam!
 
Rohan’s forehead smacked into the headboard, and he collapsed into his fluffy
blankets and pillows stiffly.
 
“Oh shit, sorry-- I was, uh, and, um--” apologized Josuke as he tried to help
Rohan up. There was a clear red mark now from Rohan’s headband cracking into
his forehead from the impact, and Josuke stifled a laugh at how ridiculous the
dazed man looked before quickly healing him up with a flash of pink and blue.
Rohan flopped like a noodle in Josuke’s arms-- worried, Josuke leaned into him
to try to give support if he was concussed--
 
Then, with a quick toss of his arms, Rohan had him pinned, finally.
 
“Stop squirming,” he hissed through his teeth. “I was enjoying myself until you
started to-- flail? Panic? Is that what it was?”
 
Sliding a knee between Josuke’s legs, Rohan pressed in and down-- pushing
Josuke deeper into the soft bed so that he would not be able to wiggle out as
easily as he had done before. With both of Josuke’s wrists in his hands, Rohan
continued to slide his leg up and up-- until his knee was nudging Josuke’s
balls.
 
He wasn’t wearing underwear-- how could he when he had the tail butt plug in?
 
Unexpectedly, Josuke started to laugh again.
 
Exhausted, Rohan questioned curtly, “What now?”
 
“Sorry, I just can’t help but wonder how we always end up fighting like this.”
Unable to move his hands, Josuke flicked his chin up towards where Rohan had
him pinned-- his face was bright and open as he grinned ear to ear.
 
Face scrunching up into an embarrassed scowl, Rohan snarled, “Well, if you
weren’t so difficult all the time--”
 
“Me? I think you might have the wrong idea of what it means to be difficult,
Rohan-sensei.”
 
“What? Have I not been gracious and generous to you ever since you threw your
little tantrum that time I tried to send you home early?”
 
“Rohan, yer own tantrums are many, many, many--”
 
Rohan rolled his eyes. “Stop, Josuke. I get it.”
 
“--Many, many, many, maaaaaany times worse than the few times I’ve lost my
temper around you. However, yes, I will acknowledge that you’ve been very nice
to me recently.”
 
“Well, as the adult-- it is only right for me to be the better person and
accommodate you.”
 
Oh right, that was why Josuke didn’t want to praise Rohan to his face. Now it
was his turn to roll his eyes.
 
“Hey, what’s that look for?” sputtered Rohan, offended. He didn’t have the
opportunity to grouch about Josuke’s small look of rebellion further though-
- as the large teenager inverted their positions in an even bigger act of
rebellion. Rohan kicked his legs a few times to discourage Josuke from settling
down on top of him, but it was in vain. Josuke was too strong and heavy for
him.
 
He blew his green bangs out of his face gruffly, then waited for Josuke to make
his point again.
 
“Then spoil me a little more, Rohan-- I’ve already indulged in yer Special
Request, after all.”
 
With Rohan’s pride on the line, Josuke did not expect him to say no. He
smoothed his hands up and down Rohan’s light t-shirt that he wore for resting
at home, riding Rohan’s heaving chest as the older man recovered from trying to
throw Josuke off of him.
 
“What do you want now, brat?”
 
“Lemme enter you first.”
 
Rohan’s face fell into disarray immediately.
 
“H-huh?”
 
“You heard me-- you’ll still get yer booty call, but after I get my fill of you
first. I already have the butt plug in-- it’d be a shame to remove it now. Why
not let it stay in me a little longer so that when we take it out, I’ll be nice
and warmed up for you?” Beneath him, Rohan tensed up again. Attempting to
soothe him, Josuke slid his hands onto Rohan’s shoulder and massaged firmly,
feeling the tight muscle loosen bit by bit under his fingers. The man was
silent, and looked conflicted.
 
“Please, Rohan-sensei?” pleaded Josuke-- for emphasis, he balled his hands up
into fists that he held up near his mischievous, smiling face. Like a dog
begging for treats, Josuke followed his pose up with a soft, whining sound.
Rohan swallowed thickly, face heating up. Oh right, realized Josuke, this get-
up-- the school uniform, the dog accessories-- was Rohan’s idea. It was bound
to be very effective, then.
 
Josuke planted his hands onto Rohan’s chest and lifted his hips up until he
felt the dull tug of the tail swaying freely. Rohan’s eyes darted down-- his
gaze followed the fluffy dog tail that wagged with the shake of Josuke’s hips
rocking slowly and sensually side to side. Smirking at his imminent victory,
Josuke continued to make soft whining noises and pawed at Rohan’s chest,
playing at the older man's perversions.
 
Shuddering, Rohan gave in-- “F-fine, but only because you begged for it.”
 
Score!
 
---
 
On his elbows and knees, Rohan grunted into the pillow as Josuke pressed two
lubed fingers against Rohan’s entrance. Josuke’s long sleeves were rolled up to
his elbows.
 
“Ya sure ya wanna start with two? We’re not in a rush.”
 
“Correction-- you’re not in a rush. And yes-- I’ve been practicing by myself
after studying up on the book I sent you, so don’t underestimate me.” This was
said with such finality that Josuke could not argue back.
 
Josuke shrugged even though Rohan couldn’t see him.
 
Despite all the big talk again, Josuke noted as he rubbed a soothing circle
into Rohan’s lower back with his free hand that he could feel the slight tremor
in Rohan’s thin body. The older man buried his face into the fluffy pillow and
pushed his hips back towards Josuke impatiently.
 
No mood, once again.
 
He pressed his lips against the small of Rohan’s back where the anxious shaking
was most pronounced, and felt Rohan jump even more.
 
“Josuke, I can take it-- so just get on with it,” objected the impatient man as
he looked over his shoulder with a deep frown.
 
“I don’t doubt you can take it, Rohan,” soothed Josuke as he brushed his lips
lightly against Rohan’s cold skin. He heard the growl form in Rohan’s throat,
but continued to explore the pale skin. “Yer body is beautiful, yanno? Like a
model’s.”
 
Rohan didn’t respond, so Josuke looked up from his lashes as he turned his head
to such a small hickey onto the sharp edge of Rohan’s hip. The manga artist
looked conflicted-- annoyed, impatient, but also flattered.
 
“I know-- I’ve been approached to model before,” Rohan finally said with a
shuddering breath as Josuke started to mouth at the skin on his hip again and
then lower-- dragging the tip of his tongue down the back of the older man’s
shapely, thin thighs.
 
“Hm, did ya do it?” Josuke gently guided Rohan to lay on his side, and eyed
Rohan’s half-erect cock resting on his inner thigh. He licked his lips.
 
“No, I didn’t have time for it-- shit,” cursed the older man with a twitch as
Josuke hotly mouthed his cockhead lazily without putting the erection in his
mouth. He trailed his mouth back onto Rohan’s legs and grazed his teeth into
the soft, sensitive skin, enjoying seeing Rohan’s lidded eyes and quivering
lower lip when he swept his eyes up to catch the older man's response. Without
warning, Rohan shoved a hand roughly into Josuke’s hair-- fingers wrapping
around the plush dog ear headband, and pulled Josuke’s face towards his
erection, admonishing, “Come on, don’t dick around if you're going to do it.”
 
Still impatient, huh? Josuke’s purple eyes were bright with mischief, but he
resisted teasing Rohan further. The man eagerly pushed his wetted cockhead to
Josuke’s lips, painting Josuke’s lips with clear, salty beads of precum. Under
his hands, Josuke could feel Rohan’s body was hot and pliable now, instead of
cold and stiff.
 
Not wanting to bully him more, Josuke finally flattened his tongue onto the
soft flesh of Rohan’s cock and lapped slowly and firmly-- relishing the way
Rohan’s body coiled up with a choked up moan. On the second lick, he pressed
his two fingers in and saw Rohan’s blushing face darken, overwhelmed with
pleasure from the dual sensations.
 
It was his first time fingering anyone, actually-- though Josuke was not a
virgin, he only had had sex thrice prior to Rohan. The first time was with a
girl he liked on a school camping trip during his first year of high school-
- they were both too nervous to do anything involving insertion, but Josuke
learned that day that intercrural sex was hardly a disappointing alternative.
The second time, he had curiously sucked off a friend after ditching PE halfway
through an outdoor jog when they were hiding on school grounds. The other
student sucked him off too, and it was nice. The third time he had sex was with
a slightly older girl from school that he asked out on a dare, who had petted
his cheek and told him that he was cute as he slipped on the condom nervously.
He felt safe around her as she gently walked him through the steps. They were
all good experiences.
 
These sessions with Rohan though were definitely the best experiences thus far-
- even with the clumsy mishaps of their combined inexperiences mixed in.
 
To feel his fingers inside someone else was different, to say the least. He had
grown comfortable with his own body as he curiously played with himself during
Rohan’s absence. Rohan definitely felt different than he did on the inside-
- which should not have been a surprise, but it was. Knowing that Rohan’s
patience had already worn thin long ago though, Josuke told himself to not
prolong the fingering despite his own interest in exploring Rohan’s elegant
body.
 
He pumped his fingers thoroughly, listening carefully to the sounds of Rohan
gasping and panting as he dug the tip of his tongue into Rohan’s cock.
Trembling, Rohan’s hands scratched and pulled at Josuke’s hair and headband,
commanding, “Now, Josuke-- fuck, now.”
 
Back on his elbows and knees, Rohan raggedly groaned as Josuke gradually pushed
his lubed cock into Rohan’s ass.
 
Josuke saw stars-- it was different from what he had experienced before with
the older girl, but it was good. They were both good-- this was just, well,
very, very, very different. He had one hand holding up the front of his skirt
against his stomach and out of the way, and his other hand was tight around
Rohan’s delicate hip. Josuke looked down and saw the hickey he had left-- a
small bruise dotting Rohan’s perfect, porcelain skin.
 
Rohan’s voice was small and shaky. “Josuke, move.”
 
He gulped, and pulled his hips back sharply--
 
The tail swung and bounced against the back of Rohan’s thighs, and Josuke
yelped loudly at the shock of feeling the butt plug twist a little inside him.
The stuffed tail was a decent size-- it was the length of his forearm and a
good weight. Josuke had forgotten it since it had settled warmly into his body,
but now that he was moving, it moved too.
 
Rohan wasn’t so far gone yet that he didn’t notice the apprehension that Josuke
adopted after the jerk of the butt plug. He peered back over his shoulder with
a smug smile, and hoarsely goaded, “What’s wrong, little puppy? Your master
told you to move.”
 
Josuke’s body filled with heat at this taunt, and he quickly lined himself back
up and then thrust into Rohan hard. The tail swung and bounced again, and he
felt the tip of butt plug twist inside of him from the harsh slap of his hips
against Rohan’s ass.
 
He shook the aroused haze from his head-- even though Rohan laughed harder at
that, saying that Josuke’s dog ears flopped when did-- and dug his fingers from
both hands into Rohan’s hips determinedly. The front of the skirt dropped.
Josuke briefly mourned that he was no longer able to see his cock pump in and
out of Rohan’s defined cheeks, but decided that there was always later.
 
Right now he was deadset on fucking Rohan into his stupidly expensive bed, even
if it meant he had to focus all of his own willpower on not cumming too early
because of the misbehaving butt plug.
 
“Since when did you become my master, huh?” panted Josuke as he snapped his
hips roughly into Rohan again, moaning beside himself at the delicious way
Rohan’s back tightened and how the buttplug swiveled inside of him.
 
“When,” gasped Rohan, who was having difficulties responding without having to
take several breaths to steel himself between each pound of Josuke’s strong
hips, “You put on my collar for you, dog.” Choking up at the end of the
sentence, Rohan hung his head between his shoulders as Josuke adjusted his
angle and pace so that he was pressing as deep and fast as he could. Rohan was
noisy now-- moaning and spitting profanities as the bed rocked and creaked with
each powerful thrust.
 
It was really, really hot. His mind swam with arousal, and Josuke slowly felt
his rational mind sink deeper and deeper into blindly seeking pleasure and
release as he was engulfed by the eroticism of the moment.
 
If Josuke couldn’t last long enough, he wanted to bruise Rohan enough that even
after Josuke was done, Rohan would still feel Josuke. This thought, like many
other thoughts Josuke has had recently, scared him. With what was left of his
thinking abilities, he reminded himself that Crazy Diamond could heal anything
(but that didn't justify breaking anything and everything with abandon) if
something were to go wrong. His mind was growingly clouded with lust, though,
and he pressed on-- desperately fighting the urge to cum from the thick
buttplug embedded in him that would not stop moving as he fucked the older man.
 
Impulsively, Josuke grabbed Rohan’s wrists and pulled-- holding the smaller man
in place as he shakily thrusted as hard as he could, coming inside of Rohan
with a cry as his body convulsed and clamped tightly around the butt plug that
was buried inside of him. He held Rohan there, gasping brokenly and soundlessly
for air even though his throat hurt, as he felt himself empty spurt after spurt
inside of Rohan’s tight ass.
 
Slowly coming back to his senses, he gracelessly let go of Rohan’s wrists with
trembling hands-- unable to comprehend the flutter he felt at seeing the dark
marks marring Rohan’s pale body-- and slumped forward onto his knees
exhaustedly. His vision darkened sporadically, like an uneven pulse, as he came
down from his orgasm.
 
He saw a hand-- the outstretched arm was bruised; so very, very bruised-- come
towards him and pet his head softly behind his dog ears.
 
“Good boy.”
***** Chapter 15 *****
Chapter Notes
     How many times has Josuke "won" and how many times has Rohan "won"? I
     don't know.
     I feel like I wrote two consecutive chapters that count as "topping
     from the bottom."
Sitting on the floor near the discarded luggage and unpacked items, Josuke
wondered tiredly if he was going to have to put all of Rohan’s stuff away
later. He sucked on a mouthful of ice from a cup he dangled loosely in his hand
between his bowed legs, and dropped his head back onto the bed behind him.
 
The toilet flushed, and Rohan emerged from the bathroom-- bruised, but clean.
 
“That’s unattractive,” criticized Rohan, and Josuke couldn’t help but smile and
kick his legs out-- just like he did the first time Rohan had said that, over
three weeks ago.
 
“Ya sure ya don’t want me to take care of all that for you?” suggested Josuke
as he gestured with the drained glass of ice up and down Rohan’s battered body.
Pausing in front of the vanity in his room, Rohan twisted around and ran his
long fingers across the bruises on his hips. The bruises had developed into
dark purple spots, which stood out starkly from Rohan’s light-colored skin that
rarely saw the sun.
 
Looking pleased, Rohan wrapped one hand around his wrist, noting that his
smaller hands were unable to cover the bruises made from Josuke’s hands.
 
Why did he look so happy from getting marked up? Josuke didn’t understand him.
 
“This is fine for now-- maybe later. Now get up-- I haven’t gotten a good look
at you yet,” admonished the inquisitive older man. He picked up a pencil from
his satchel and pulled his bedroom chair to the front of the bed, then settled
down on it with the loose towel on his waist coming open a bit. Josuke could
see an enticing sliver of Rohan’s thigh peeking out from the opening as he
climbed onto the bed.
 
Rohan set the end of the pencil onto his lower lip and leaned onto the arm of
the chair, analyzing the spread in front of him.
 
“Do that thing again where you hold your hands up like paws,” he instructed.
Setting down the now empty glass onto the side table, Josuke shifted to be on
his knees and held his balled up hands near his face automatically. It wasn’t a
posing session, but his body had reacted as if it was.
 
Josuke felt his heart jump when he saw Rohan gently bite the end of the pencil,
eyeing the teenager on his bed. Not saying anything, Rohan slid forward till
his elbow was on his knee. He propped his head up with his hand and tucked the
pencil behind his ear.
 
“Bark.”
 
Falling out of his pose, Josuke waved his disapproval as he shook his head,
saying, “Uh, no thank you. That’s a bit too weird for me.”
 
“Really? So there are limits to what we’re doing, then?” mused Rohan. He
settled onto the bed in front of Josuke and ran his fingers excitedly across
the pleated skirt, looking positively exuberant from seeing the muscular
teenager in such a pretty little get-up.
 
“Obviously,” muttered Josuke, suspiciously keeping his eyes on Rohan’s
traveling hands.
 
“Lay back for me, puppy.”
 
Doing so, Josuke startled when Rohan appreciatively dragged the back of his
hand from Josuke’s sock-clad ankle up to his knee, pausing to rub his thumb at
the black elastic, and then moved his hand up till it was on Josuke's naked
hip.
 
“I’m so glad I came home for this.”
 
“What?” questioned Josuke, praying that Rohan did not hear how hopeful he was
to hear him say--
 
“To fuck you.”
 
Oh.
 
Right-- that’s how it was, or how it should be, thought Josuke.
 
He felt just a little bit bitter, somehow-- even though he wasn’t sure if he
had the right to be.
 
Josuke snatched Rohan’s hand off of his waist, then guided it to the flared
base of the butt plug. Swallowing thickly, he instructed, “Pull.” The way the
older man’s face lit up clearly said, “With pleasure.” Opening up Josuke’s legs
with his free hand, Rohan eagerly slid forward with his eyes trained onto the
seated plug. Experimentally, he tightly grasped the plug and twisted it-
- studying the amount of force it took to move it, and noting the brief groan
that fell from Josuke’s lips.
 
“What are you doing, Rohan?”
 
“Research.”
 
Lowering his thick brows, Josuke opened his mouth to object but stopped,
hissing as Rohan stuffed his middle finger into him, maneuvering around the
still buried thick plug. It didn’t hurt, but it was unexpected.
 
“Do you think we could leave the plug in when I fuck you?”
 
“Fuck no!” gasped the agitated young stand user, squirming in place anxiously
until Rohan removed his finger from his hole.
 
“That’s too bad. Wow, you used a lot of lube,” his eyes glittered as he
examined his hand, seeing the smeared lubricant on it. Soundlessly, Rohan
mouthed words to himself-- clearly taking detailed mental notes.
 
“What kind of fucking research are ya even doing for yer shounen manga? God-
- anyway, of course I used a lot of lube. It’s a big plug-- ah, a-ahh!”
 
Josuke threw his hands down into the bed and fisted the sheets forcefully, his
body tightening up as he moaned. Very, very slowly, Rohan was removing the
plug-- meaning Josuke felt the challenging, thick plug’s base pull past his
ring of muscle-- opening him up. Each terrible (frighteningly delectable) inch
stretched out for an eternity in Josuke’s short-circuited mind, as the butt
plug was retrieved. Yet almost too soon, he felt it taper to its end-- and the
butt plug slipped out wetly.
 
Holding it up between the joints of his index and middle finger-- like how one
would hold a wine glass-- Rohan examined the plug and the clipped on tail
dangling from it with an awed expression. “You’re right. It’s bigger than I
remembered. How do you feel now? Empty?”
 
Still panting, Josuke looked down between his thighs and saw that he was half
hard from the removal, and frustratedly bit his bottom lip with annoyance.
 
He did feel empty.
 
What he felt the most though, was that he did not want Rohan to Win. Unsure of
what that even entailed, he set his mind to it either way. Maybe it really was
not Rohan’s responsibility if Josuke might-- emphasis on might, he assured
himself-- have feelings for him. However, he refused to let Rohan lord over him
with it. The older man was looking far too secure in their power dynamics since
he had gloated at Josuke even when he had a dick in his ass, and as a result,
he was becoming insufferably prideful and condescending again. Josuke licked
his dry lips, searching for a plan of attack.
 
Rohan’s towel did not hide that he was fully erect after playing with the butt
plug while it had been in Josuke.
 
Unclipping the dog tail, Rohan stood to place the butt plug upright on his
vanity. He set the dog tail down and his pencil that had been tucked under his
ear onto the vanity too, and sat back onto the bed nonchalantly.
 
“Did you like it? Are you horny, now?”
 
“Not as horny as you, it appears,” mumbled Josuke, loosening the towel off of
the impossibly beautiful yet irritating older man. After casting it aside,
Josuke sat forward and wrapped his lips around Rohan’s cock-- effectively
shutting him up mid-sentence. Josuke sucked, taking in as much as he could
until he could feel Rohan’s erection twitch in the back of his throat. “Mmrgh,”
grunted Josuke as he felt tears dot the edge of his vision. The nausea was
setting in from the angled shape of Rohan’s cock rubbing the back of his
throat, but Josuke was determined to reduce Rohan to a drooling mess.
 
When Rohan returned to his senses just enough to start talking-- which meant he
was collected enough to clearly process and appreciate that Josuke was
deepthroating him-- Josuke took that as his cue to start enthusiastically
sucking him off. He was clumsy, but made up for it in zeal as he pooled spit in
his mouth and bobbed his head. Josuke’s ears burned-- the squelching sounds of
him wetly dragging his lips around Rohan’s cock and sucking were overwhelmingly
loud in his mind.
 
Everytime he felt Rohan’s slender fingers try to find purchase in his damp,
tangled hair, he would slap his hands away-- refusing to let the older man gain
any control over the situation. The dog ear headband fell onto the bed,
forgotten, after being mussed out of his hair.
 
“F-fuck,” was all Rohan could manage, and he whimpered-- he actually whimpered,
delighted Josuke-- as his balls tightened.
 
Josuke pulled off with a satisfied grin after ensuring that he kept a tight
suction around Rohan’s cock all the way to the tip, and steadied Rohan with his
hands-- enjoying the violent tremble in Rohan’s body. Spurred on by the
frenzied and confused look in Rohan’s wet eyes, Josuke pressed Rohan’s back
into the bed and-- deliberately slow with the short, pleated skirt held up-
- threw a leg over Rohan’s body to mount him.
 
The air was heavy with sweat as they both panted-- Rohan as he came down from
nearly cumming, and Josuke as he drank in the way Rohan’s eyes clouded with
arousal as he nestled Rohan’s stiff cock between his cheeks.
 
Running a hand behind his ear to tuck some of his long bangs out of the way,
Josuke taunted, “Well? Aren’t you supposed to be the one fucking me?”
 
Attempting to press his cock past the lubed ring of muscle, Rohan rocked his
hips up. It was futile as Josuke sat up at the same time, allowing Rohan’s
saliva-covered cockhead to uselessly slip against Josuke's slick entrance
without breaching.
 
“What? Didja think I was just worshipping yer cock for no reason just now?”
slyly tormented Josuke as he ran a thumb across Rohan's wet lower lip.
Apparently, he was right about that, as Rohan looked completely taken aback.
“Naw, I was just riling ya up-- now you can beg for it.”
 
Intending to leave Rohan crazed until he gave in, the teen sat onto Rohan’s
cock-- moaning sweetly-- as he felt the tip of the erection push into him. He
shuddered as he rocked back up, then repeated the motion a few times.
 
Onto Josuke’s game now, Rohan visibly resisted-- his eyebrows knitted together
as he shut his eyes tightly, unable to think from seeing Josuke open his mouth
and stick his tongue out at him as he carefully rode Rohan shallowly and
slowly.
 
“We can’t have that,” tutted Josuke before he leaned down and latched his soft,
plush lips around Rohan’s nipple.
 
“Nnrgh!” growled the shaken older man, unable to comprehend the sharp sensation
of Josuke’s teeth rolling his nipple in his wet, warm mouth. Thrashing
underneath the large, heavy teenager, Rohan snarled angrily-- but the severity
of his moaning was dampened by the occasional whimper and gasp. Electrified by
this new information-- that Rohan’s nipples were sensitive-- Josuke refused to
let up.
 
His free hand tweaked Rohan’s other nipple, and he had to stop sucking to
steady himself before the overstimulated older man bucked him off. Seizing his
chance after Rohan threw his head back from a harsh flick from Josuke’s quick
fingers, Josuke bit down harder onto the nipple in his mouth.
 
Rohan cried out, and Josuke chanced a glance upwards to see if he had tears
rolling down his face. He did not, but his mouth opened and closed uselessly,
unable to form words as both of his breasts were played with roughly.
 
Knowing that if he didn’t stop soon that the abuse would chafe the aroused
nubs, Josuke slowed the rough treatment until he ceased completely. He
punctuated the end of the nipple play session by planting a sweet kiss on each
pink, pinched nipple. On the one he hadn’t placed his mouth on, he licked
softly, drinking in the way the man underneath him whined pathetically.
 
Graciously, Josuke waited for Rohan to regain himself enough to speak again.
 
“Fuck… you…” hoarsely whispered Rohan. It would have hurt more if not for the
fact that Rohan’s hips rocked upwards in vain again, unable to press into the
slippery heat of Josuke’s lubed ass.
 
“Yeah, I know,” snickered Josuke. He pulled his sleeves up over his palms again
and balled his fists up onto Rohan’s chest, resting on his shaking abdomen with
his head on his folded forearms and his hips canted up, out of reach.
 
“Keep pushing me,” emptily threatened Rohan with heaving breaths, “and I’ll
call out Heaven’s Door.”
 
“Mmhmm,” casually remarked Josuke as he measuredly untied his neck bow, then
unbuttoned his collar.
 
“Fuck Josuke, why are you so--” childishly fumed Rohan, throwing his head to
the side as he worried his lower lip, conflicted.
 
“I’m not gonna take what ya dish out at me lying down, Rohan-sensei, so don’t
say anything that might push me too,” chirped Josuke-- he dropped the undone
ribbon onto Rohan’s chest, and it slithered off. Having opened all the buttons
that he could reach with his sweater on, Josuke sat up to take it off.
 
A sweaty hand stopped him, and the teen smiled self-satisfiedly at Rohan
looking away with deep shame as he gave in, grumbling, “Don’t. Leave the
sweater on. I l-like it.”
 
Unhurriedly, Josuke stopped removing the sweater and licked the palm of his
hand showily-- Rohan’s eyes darted his way-- then reached under himself to
firmly grasp Rohan’s cock at its base. He squeezed, feeling the blood pump and
Rohan's wanting erection stiffen.
 
“What did we learn in class today, sensei?”
 
Blushing furiously, Rohan still refused to look at him. Now that wasn’t allowed
either, was it? Realizing his vicious streak, Josuke started to stroke Rohan
again-- but this time with a light hand, letting his wetted skin skirt across
Rohan’s swollen erection with minimal contact. On the downstroke, he would
deliberately wrap his palm elusively to shortly drag it across Rohan’s
cockhead. Rohan choked out, almost sobbing with need. His bruised and battered
body shook, and Josuke could feel Rohan’s cock leak more precum-- making his
hands ever slipperier as he gleefully brushed his hands up and down the
supposedly pure manga artist’s dick.
 
Taking pity on the man, Josuke helpfully offered, “We learned that good
students say ‘please.’”
 
“P-please,” blubbered Rohan immediately, unable to stop his hips from bucking,
“Please, Josuke-- please.”
 
Josuke hummed appreciatively, then guided Rohan’s dripping cock towards his
entrance and sat down roughly, feeling the sharp angles of Rohan’s hips dig
into his ass when he had seated himself completely. Rohan was not as thick as
the butt plug, but Josuke immediately knew he preferred Rohan's cock over the
toy-- he could feel the hot, firm flesh twitch within him as Rohan keened.
Shocked from his wanting cock suddenly being engulfed by Josuke’s slippery, hot
inside, the older man found himself unable to say anything else beyond,
“Please, please,please.”
 
Gathering up the skirt around his hips, Josuke saw his own erection bob in
front of him and sucked in a breath-- it was his first time riding, and it felt
so good. It felt amazing precisely because with every movement of his hips, he
could immediately see Rohan react to it. Every small graze or rub, and the
embarrassed man he was riding within an inch of his life would choke up with
moans and sobs. Experimentally, Josuke bounced in the older man’s lap, licking
his lips as he beleaguered each thrust on his descents.
 
Gradually, he picked up the pace-- and god, he thought hazily, he knew he was
going to crave this from now on. There was a still faintly unfamiliar, growing
pleasure within him that he had been coaxing out carefully over the past two
weeks. Distantly, he remembered sitting in the shower with the book propped up
on the toilet, pressing a curved toy roughly into his ass and weeping with the
water dripping down his face as he came onto himself from his prostate being
abused. It was the hardest he had ever come in his life, and that was just from
a dildo by himself. Every time he managed to come from prostate stimulation
again, it got better.
 
In the pursuit of an even stronger, better orgasm, he had been coaching himself
to be more sensitive and responsive to these new sensations-- and it worked.
 
“Rohan-sensei,” he bit out as he jerkily slammed back down onto Rohan’s hips,
“I’m gonna c-cum soon.” He wanted to force Rohan deeper into him, and knew he
was going too hard, but Rohan was still moaning and his hands that were tightly
tangled into Josuke’s sweatshirt spasmed, so it was probably okay.
 
“Don’t worry though,” Josuke continued with a shudder-- cheekily, he held up
his hand into a peace symbol by his face, smiling coyly. “Even after I’m done,
we’re not gonna to stop until ya cum.”
 
Turns out, that wouldn’t be for much longer. Rohan broke down then and there,
and-- wow, Josuke realized-- he could feel Rohan’s cock pumping cum into him.
He was wrapped so tightly around it that as he rode out Rohan’s orgasm, there
was a powerful throbbing sensation within him that he could feel from his ring
of muscle clamped around Rohan's erection-- and suddenly, after a few more
thrusts, Josuke felt there was more pull on each stroke.
 
The cum was sticky, and didn’t make for good lube, but the gripping feel of the
cum oozing and dribbling--
 
“O-oh my god,” moaned the teen,
 
Josuke’s breath hitched and he held a sleeve over his mouth, stilling as he
spilled all over Rohan’s bare chest. It was too much. Rohan’s cock twitched
inside of him, spent, and he moaned as Josuke convulsed around him. Trembling,
Josuke drooled onto his sleeve and dizzily realized he felt Rohan’s cum sliding
down his inner thighs-- and that was so hot, he thought he could die.
 
Shaking violently and whimpering through his own aftershocks, Josuke barely
noted as he panted that Rohan’s softened cock had fallen out of him. The rest
of Rohan’s load dripped thickly down his legs, onto Rohan’s lower belly and
seeped into the stupidly expensive bedsheets.
***** Chapter 16 *****
Chapter Notes
     Plot! Can you believe?!
It was 3PM, and Josuke just finished doing laundry again. He was a little
smelly, quite sticky and sweaty, and decided definitively that he needed to
take a shower after he completed hanging all the washed items up to dry in the
yard. Securely clipping in a corner of the bed sheet, he stepped back and
rubbed the hem of his tank top against his face.
 
“They say that 3PM is the hottest time of day.”
 
Josuke pulled the extra clips he had on his shirt for easy retrieving off and
tossed them into the empty laundry basket before turning around to find the
source of the voice. Rohan was at the door facing the back porch, rubbing a
fresh towel through his damp hair. Even a distance away from the yard, Josuke
could still see the dark marks he had made on Rohan’s skin. The purple bruises
peaked out under Rohan’s home clothes-- a white crop top and white baggy pants
that sat low on his waist. His boxer briefs that could be seen above the pants’
waistband that Rohan wore low on his hips hid very little of their rough play
earlier.
 
Even though they had sex only a few short hours ago, Josuke was starting to
feel weird again.
 
He didn’t understand what impulse drove him into marking up Rohan that badly.
In fact, he felt he understood what they-- he and Rohan-- were less and less,
and it wasn’t a good feeling.
 
Hoisting up the empty laundry basket, Josuke started jogging back towards the
house. He hopped up the porch’s wooden steps, and saw that Rohan was still
there-- holding the door open for him, even though the air conditioning was
escaping as he did.
 
Josuke paused, awkward suddenly. He felt a hand hook behind the back of his
head and propel him into the house. Curtly, Rohan scolded him, “Go shower-- you
stink.”
 
---
 
“So what are yer plans for this week, now that yer back in town and stuff?”
 
Freshly showered now, Josuke had ascended the stairs one at a time-- instead of
his usual two at a time-- and saw Rohan did, surprisingly, put his luggage mess
away by himself.
 
“Well, I’m actually off the hook for a few days-- most of the new work I got in
Tokyo were to allow collaboration projects. So other than drawing the next few
issues, I need to eventually proof the godawful derivative work that other
people are going to make to try to profit off of my genius,” sneered Rohan as
he paced back and forth in his bedroom. He then pushed bodily past Josuke,
straight back to his natural habitat-- his workroom.
 
Idly, Josuke followed.
 
Rohan sat back down into his work chair and swiveled in place, blowing his
bangs out of his face, exasperated. “So basically, I gotta wait to be handfed
vomit. I’m not exactly pleased, but what’s done is done.”
 
There was a small envelope on his desk. Rohan stopped spinning in his chair and
examined it cautiously-- Josuke saw the resemblance between Rohan and a
startled animal.
 
“What’s this?” he asked as he pried the edge of the envelope with the end of a
ruler, bristling with nerves. “I didn’t order anything while I was gone, and my
fanmail is consolidated by my editor and shipped to me in a batch once a month-
- did a fan break in while I was gone and leave a letter?”
 
Walking forward with his damp feet against the hardwood, Josuke opened the
envelope and pulled out the photos he had developed at the drugstore.
 
“I borrowed a disposable camera and took some photos of a festival last week.
You just seemed really, I don't know--” sad? “Upset about being in Tokyo, so I
just kinda thought…”
 
Josuke shrugged and stepped back.
 
Thumbing through a handful of photos, Rohan touched his chin and nodded. Two
piles started to appear as he sorted through the photos quickly. When he was
done, he stuck up one hand, flicking his wrist at a shelf.
 
“Josuke, grab one of the blue folders from the second shelf from the door.
It’ll be near the middle. They’re numbered-- grab the one with the largest
number.”
 
Familiar with Rohan’s enigmatic sorting system now, Josuke retrieved the album
and placed it into Rohan’s lap. The manga artist did not look up still-- he was
flipping through one of his piles with one hand, and used the other hand to
rummage around in his materials cart to pull out a glue stick and markers.
Systematically, Rohan started gluing down photos and scribbling notes.
 
Unable to find a use for himself in the room, Josuke felt it better to remove
himself from the work room.
 
“Wait,” called out Rohan, hands never stilling.
 
“Yeah?”
 
“Thank you. These are very nice.”
 
“Yer welcome.”
 
---
 
After settling down in the living room to do homework again, Josuke flopped
onto the coffee table he liked working at and closed his eyes.
 
He liked money.
 
He liked working with Rohan (for money).
 
He liked sex with Rohan (no money).
 
He liked Rohan.
 
Cracking open one eye, Josuke looked at his long arms stretched out in front of
him, dangling off of the front of the table. On each hand, he decided, he’ll
try to count down his favorite and least favorite things about Rohan. He’ll
start with what’s easier-- what he didn’t like about Rohan.
 
   1. Rohan was childish and petty. He was prone to mood swings and irrational
      behavior due to his petulant nature.
   2. Rohan had no self-awareness-- which is part of what made it so hard to
      argue with him. There was no basis to any of Josuke’s arguments in
      Rohan’s eyes because the underlying problem-- that Rohan had any negative
      traits at all-- did not exist in Rohan’s mind.
   3. Rohan had unhealthy obsessions-- he was obsessed with Koichi at Koichi’s
      expense, and he was so dedicated to his manga that all reason was thrown
      out the window.
   4. Rohan was quick to criticize and make snap judgments-- Josuke had so much
      secondhand embarrassment when Koichi recounted to him how Rohan had
      treated Reimi when they were reunited, and how quickly Reimi had unnerved
      Rohan by showing that he had misjudged her. If it weren’t for the fact
      that Reimi was a close childhood friend, Josuke did not think Rohan would
      have been so easy to convince of his wrongdoings otherwise.
   5. Rohan didn’t love anything more in life other than his manga, and then
      maybe himself.
 
Now, what did he like about Rohan?
 
His mind drew a blank.
 
If that was the case, did he like Rohan then? How could he truly like someone
if he couldn’t even think of one thing he liked about them? It didn’t make any
sense.
 
He didn’t like Rohan then-- or more accurantely, he couldn’t, rationally, like
Rohan.
 
Ring a ling a ling! Ring a ling a ling!
 
Was that his phone? That made no sense-- the only person who had his number was
Rohan, unless--
 
Unless it was a stand, like Red Hot Chili Peppers, that could seemingly ride
through the air by electricity or some other substance. Josuke’s blood went
cold, and he burst from his spot on the floor to charge upstairs, yelling,
“Rohan! Don’t pick up my phone! Somethin’s not right!”
 
Thud thud thud thud thud--
 
Clambering up the stairs on all fours, Crazy Diamond manifested defensively
behind Josuke, and he kicked off of the wall beside him to propel himself into
the master bedroom where his phone had been charging.
 
Except his phone was still sitting on the side table at its charging station,
silent. This meant the sounds must have been from Rohan's phone-- did they both
set the same custom ringtone?
 
“Hello?”
 
He whipped around, hearing Rohan answer the phone from the workroom. Idiot!
Turning on his heels, Josuke sprang forth and slid into Rohan’s room with Crazy
Diamond-- fists up-- ready to fight.
 
“Ah, Koichi-kun!” rang Rohan’s light, cheery voice.
 
Dumbfounded, Josuke eventually slid to a stop in the middle of the workroom and
remained stomach down on the floor, gaping at Rohan chatting away brightly into
his white phone. 
 
“Yeah, yeah, I’m back now. Thanks for calling me back! Yeah, I got a cell
phone. Did you want one too? I’ll get you one!”
 
Belatedly, Josuke flipped onto his side, wincing. He had burned and skinned
himself from sliding across Rohan’s polished wooden floors. He licked his hand
and rubbed his red elbows.
 
“The theme park? Really? You wanna go together? ...Oh, with everyone? Josuke
got free tickets, huh? Hmm.”
 
Swinging around to face Josuke from his chair, Rohan cradled the phone between
his cheek and shoulder, then pointed at Josuke with a stern look. He mouthed,
“How dare you lie to Koichi-kun?” Incredulously, Josuke mouthed back, “You lie
to Koichi all the time!!!”
 
“Sure. Saturday? That’s fine. Since I just got back, work is a bit light for a
few days. Yeah. Uh huh. Yeah. I’ll tell him for you. Okay. Bye, Koichi-kun.”
 
He set his white cell phone back into its place-- in a drawer on his desk-- and
sat motionlessly in his chair, thinking back to his conversation. From the way
he smiled, it looked like he was reliving-- in fact, relishing-- the chat he
had with Koichi.
 
“Josuke, how attached are you to your phone?”
 
Having crawled into his usual couch, Josuke was busy nursing his new wounds.
His head snapped up, eyes wide with confusion and disbelief: “Huh?”
 
“Do you think I could give Koichi-kun your phone and then get you another one
later? Also, Koichi-kun says hi.” Pulling one of his notepads over, Rohan
started jotting down notes.
 
“Uh-- wait, did ya tell Koichi about us?”
 
“Did I?” wondered Rohan dazedly out loud. He thought for several moments,
before concluding, “Oh right. I told him that you have a crush on me.”
 
“What?”
 
“What’s the big deal? I told your nephew too.”
 
Pain forgotten, Josuke stopped rubbing his skinned knees and elbows to balk,
screaming, “What?!”
 
“Anyway, we’re going to the theme park on Saturday with Koichi-kun and,” Rohan
gagged distastefully, “‘the gang.’ He said it’s the only day he’s free this
week, so go make sure the rest of your party is ready to go too. Free tickets,
huh?” Rohan turned back around in his chair just to gloat to Josuke’s face,
smirking with his head tilted up.
 
“Well how else am I supposed to make tickets just magically appear? Didn’t you
say that you didn’t want anyone knowing that I’m working for you?”
 
“Then just tell them I gave you the money.”
 
Speechless, Josuke motioned around himself, unable to figure out what to say
next. There it was-- the complete lack of self-awareness. Defeated, he grumbled
into closed fists. Then again, what about his own lack of self-awareness? Of
course Koichi had Rohan’s cell number. Of course Rohan would leave the house
for Koichi. Of course, of course, of course-- he had forgotten that there was
one other thing that Rohan loved--possibly more than his manga and maybe even
himself. It was his best buddy, Koichi.
 
“Hey, you didn’t answer me earlier. Are you attached--”
 
“No, I’m not. Just take the damn thing-- it’s charging in yer room.” Standing
up, Josuke made to go find the first aid kit in Rohan’s bathroom.
 
“Okay, thank you. Oh, can you put this back into the shelf, please?”
 
It was the album with Josuke’s photos that he had glued in, and extra photos
stacked on top.
 
“Whaddaya want me to do with the rest of these photos?”
 
“I kept the ones I needed. Just toss the rest.”
 
---
 
“Dude, ya seriously finished all of your summer homework already? That’s crazy!
Didja really mean it when ya said I can borrow it to copy?”
 
“Yeah man-- ya said ya couldn’t come hang out because ya had too much homework,
so I’d rather ya copy mine so you can come hang out. It ain't fun without ya!”
 
“Yer a lifesaver, Josuke! First the free tickets, and now the homework!
Fuck...” There were real tears in Okuyasu’s eyes when he clamped his hands down
hard onto Josuke’s shoulders and sniffled, his face broken up into an emotional
grin. Lip trembling, he buried his face into Josuke’s shoulder, mouthing his
thanks into Josuke’s pink and blue windbreaker.
 
Laughing, Josuke patted Okuyasu on the back repeatedly. “It’s fine, it’s fine,
it’s fine!” Okuyasu pulled back with a tight lower lip, nodding frantically. He
passed Okuyasu the thick folder of all his finished homework-- he had completed
the last of it at home in his room over the past few days since Rohan’s return.
Koichi was the real lifesaver-- at least 60% of the homework was copied from
him. Okuyasu gently placed it into the inner pocket of his backpack-- behind
their bottles of water and homemade sandwiches that Josuke’s mom had readied
for them. Like the goodnatured older brother he was, Okuyasu insisted on
carrying the heavier stuff. He was a real reliable guy.
 
The two teens scooted out of the way for two children with matching sun hats to
take some seats further down in the bus shelter.
 
“So what have you been doing all summer instead of yer homework then?” teased
Josuke as he popped a mint into his mouth. He silently offered it to Okuyasu,
then dropped two pieces into his best friend’s palm when Okuyasu held his hand
out. Josuke’s own bag was a small crossbody bag that was waterproof-- in case
they went on any water rides-- that also held the tickets he purchased at the
bookstore, along with extra cash, lip balm, sunscreen, and the cell phone that
Koichi ended up refusing to take.
 
“Mmm, well-- Mikitaka and I have been messing around with Yuya for a good
while.”
 
“Really?” Josuke sat closer, cupping his cheek with his hand.
 
“Yeah! So ya know how Yuya has like, three gals that follow him around?”
 
“Akemi, Yoshie, and Reiko, right?”
 
“Yeah, those three! So I had this totally genius idea recently, and brought it
up to him one day. I was like, ‘Yuya, how about settin' up a group date, eh?
You, me, and Mikitaka with Akemi, Yoshie, and Reiko! Mikitaka here's an alien-
- he’s never been on a date before! C'mon, we gotta show him what human
courtship is like.’ But yanno what he said? He said no! Like man, how can ya
say no to Mikitaka?”
 
“This is true. I think we only ever say no to Mikitaka if it’s somethin' life-
threatening.”
 
“Yeah, so-- oh, hold on.” Okuyasu placed his bag into Josuke’s lap and then
hopped out of the bus shelter. A bus had just arrived, and an elderly woman
with her small grandchild were trying to get off, but the shuddering bus was a
good distance away from the curb. Snickering, Josuke smiled warmly at his loud
best friend. The elderly woman had startled at Okuyasu’s loud voice (“Hi ma’am!
Wouldja like some help?!”), but it looked like she eventually realized he a
harmless, young student. The scary-looking teen with a heart of gold helped
both the elderly woman and her young granddaughter off the bus, and waved them
off as they walked away from the bus stop.
 
Wanting to continue telling his story, Okuyasu jogged back to the bus shelter
and sat back down, “Thanks for holdin' my stuff, man.”
 
“No prob.” He passed back the hefty bag-- his mom had packed enough lunches
for, as she said, “all of you lil’ brats!” He was glad to have an excuse now to
indulge her though, and had placed a bracelet he saw her eyeing at the mall a
few months ago onto the kitchen counter with a note right before they left the
house that morning. Hopefully, she wouldn’t find it suspicious-- it was on
sale, he had explained in his note.
 
(He didn’t explain that even though it was on sale, it was only 5% off-- which
didn’t take a considerable chunk out of its sticker price, but she didn’t need
to know that.)
 
“Right, so as I was saying about Yuya-- wait,” startled Okuyasu, who started to
look around wildly for the bus schedule, “What time is our bus leaving? Where's
everyone else?”
 
“Not fer another twenty minutes. I guess they’re late. Not sure where Yuya is.
Man, if I knew he had said no to you guys-- maybe I wouldn’t have invited him.”
 
“Yeah, ferget about him. We’ve been trying to convince him for a while, but he
didn’t let up at all. He’s still cool, but dude! Crushing Mikitaka’s hopes and
dreams like that-- so heartless. Anyway, what about Koichi and Yukako then?”
 
“They’re getting a ride from Rohan.”
 
“Yeesh-- I’m glad we’re taking the bus. Even if Rohan’s car is super nice and
stuff, I wouldn’t risk my life riding it with Yukako and Koichi in it. Can’t
imagine what it’d be like to be in a car with that deadly combination.”
 
“God, do ya think they’ll make it one piece?”
 
“Jesus, yer right. I sure hope so.”
 
They stared at each other seriously, then nodded in unison.
 
“Yo!”
 
A motorcycle roared as it approached, and to their surprise, it was Yuya with a
passenger. The passenger hopped off and removed their helmet. In the sunlight,
they saw the glint of Mikitaka’s piercings in the light.
 
Okuyasu’s jaw dropped.
 
“What’s going on here?” he bellowed, even as Mikitaka politely sat down next to
them in the bus shelter.
 
“What does it look like? I’m dropping him off-- listen, I’m gonna be late. I’m
gonna go pick up Yoshie, and I’ll try to catch up on my bike-- Reiko and Akemi
are meeting us at the theme park. They were excited and left already.”
 
Flabbergasted, Okuyasu looked like his head would explode from information
overload. Josuke watched, amused, as Okuyasu stumbled out of the bus shelter
towards Yuya, whose motorcycle was still on. “Wait wait wait, so is this really
happening?”
 
Calling out through cupped hands, Mikitaka yelled cheerfully, “Yes, ‘this’ is
happening.” Their beautiful, alien friend smiled, and it was like the heavens
parted and the angels were singing.
 
“Yuya, ya dog!” Okuyasu punched the motorcyclist in the arm-- a bit too hard,
from the way he winced, but Josuke didn’t regard Yuya as one with a good pain
tolerance in the first place-- and hugged him tightly. He stepped back,
toothily grinning, and asked, “So what’s the big deal? Why the change of
heart?”
 
“Well, Mikitaka and I had a heart to heart last night after you went home-- and
I don’t know, man. I feel like Yoshie and I-- something can happen from it. And
I guess, as thanks for helping me figure that out, Mikitaka, er,” Yuya
struggled with the words, fussing with his neck scarf that poked out of his
thick riding jacket with his glove covered hands. “Anyway, so if you have
anyone to thank, just thank Mikitaka!”
 
Yuya was blushing now, so he fumbled his helmet back on and revved his bike. As
he rode off, Okuyasu took his place in the bus shelter, head swimming. His
thoughts were clearly written on his face. Girls! Group Date! Friends! Summer!
 
“So what did you tell Yuya?” pried Josuke, hooking his arm around his alien
friend’s shoulders to pull him close. Mikitaka was a true weirdo-- but a
harmless one with a gentle soul. Yuya was a pretty simple guy, so Josuke
figured it must had been Mikitaka’s kind words that melted Yuya’s heart.
 
Clapping his hands excitedly, Mikitaka proudly said, “I told him-- ‘Love is in
the air.’ I heard it on a commercial about air fresheners!”
***** Chapter 17 *****
Chapter Notes
     This chapter is about thirst.
By the time the rest of ‘the gang’ showed up, Rohan had already taken his first
dose of painkillers. He looked up, weakly, when the familiar sight of Josuke
came into the edge of his vision. The secondary characters, in his mind, were a
hazy afterthought. There looked to be more children than he remembered Koichi
said were attending today’s excursion. Was he, perhaps, suffering from double-
vision? He pressed his fingers against his eyes and breathed deeply.
 
The car ride had not been eventful—but he almost had wished it was. Instead,
the thirty minute drive over after he had picked up Best Friend Koichi Plus One
had been him enduring being the Third Wheel. Koichi—bless his heart—had
politely initiated conversation with their driver, Rohan, multiple times.
However, inevitably his attention would drift back to his girlfriend, Yukako.
Something about her was so unsettling though—it was like Rohan had to watch his
back around her, in case she would silently take out anyone who may be in the
way of her and Koichi. When he had brought his concerns up to Koichi
previously, his small friend hadn’t even denied it. He had just held up both
hands with a weird grin, as if saying, “Well, that’s how it is—isn’t she
great?”
 
With both of the kids in the backseat, Rohan had occasionally glanced upon them
from the rear-view mirror while changing lanes. The two lovebirds had been
flirting up a storm—Koichi chatting a mile a minute while Yukako’s dark eyes
fixed on him, unmoving, with a small smile tugging at her lips.
 
Rohan had burned inside—feeling more like a chauffeur, than an invited party.
 
For Koichi, though, he had allowed it—Rohan cherished the genuine smiles and
laughs that he would see Koichi break out in as he and his girlfriend twined
their pinkies together. He almost never saw his best friend like that around
him. Usually, Koichi would be red-faced, tense, and laughing nervously around
Rohan. It was why he was not allowed to come visit Koichi at his summer job. He
tried once in disguise, but Koichi—oh, he knew him so well—had spotted him
immediately and then dropped a plate in shock.
 
If Yukako made Koichi happy, Rohan would generously accept her into their
lives. He had then bit his tongue and turned up the radio in his car.
 
As the gaggle of teenagers converged and grew, Rohan flipped to a new page in
his sketchbook and continued sketching the shape of the ticket booths and
crowds in front of them. He clicked his tongue disdainfully when the mob of
tall children started to approach him in his shady spot near the restrooms, too
loud already.
 
“Ah, Rohan-sensei! Let me introduce you to everyone!” volunteered Koichi—he
briefly fussed with Yukako, who was rubbing sunblock onto the back of his neck
sternly.
 
It was unbearably sweet.
 
He rolled his eyes—they didn’t see him sulking anyway, as neither Koichi nor
Yukako were looking at anyone else but each other. The rest of the teenagers
were too busy greeting each other to care anyway. The atmosphere was
suffocating, he thought. Rohan felt like he was being surrounded by a bunch of
oversized children who were bodily hugging, high-fiving, and howling with
excitement. Josuke was no different—snorted Rohan smugly.
 
As his eyes were assaulted with the mob of secondary characters, he started to
recognize one of the tall teens—with a blonde girl on his arm, was the man who
almost killed him.
 
“What is he doing here?” barked the ticked off manga artist, standing up
immediately with Heaven’s Door manifesting over his shoulder, ready to fight.
Yuya instinctively stepped forward, protective arm in front of the blonde, and
cracked his neck menacingly with lowered eyes. Koichi threw himself in-between
the two bristling bodies, pressing his small hands into their stomachs to keep
them apart.
 
“Ahhh Rohan-sensei! Wait, wait, that’s Yuya, from our school. I know that he
and you have history, but I swear he’s good now. He’s a friend!”
 
“This coward is your friend?” spat Rohan, sizing the teenager up.
 
They pressed in towards each other—effectively crushing Koichi between their
tense bodies. Yukako swept in to pry her small boyfriend out from between the
warring parties, leaving Rohan and Yuya to lean in so closely that their
foreheads almost touched.
 
“Time out,” sighed Josuke, cutting in between them. Rohan was jerked back over
the shoulder by Crazy Diamond, and Yuya was pulled back by The Hand. The teens
congregated behind Josuke, who slouched forward dangerously, hands in his
pockets, eyeing the snarling men with his own unspoken threats.
 
“Come on, guys. Rohan, Yuya nearly killed me too but I can vouch that this guy
has saved my life before and is definitely on our side now. Yuya, I know Rohan
doesn’t exactly have the best reputation either—but he’s mostly harmless.
Behave, all of ya. I mean it.”
 
Tensely, they continued staring at each other even with Josuke bodily keeping
them apart. Yuya wrinkled his nose suddenly—disdainful, maybe?—and then stepped
back before wrapping an arm around the blonde’s thin shoulders again. He
flicked his chin upwards, silently urging Josuke to come over to him. After one
quick, wary glance towards Rohan, Josuke strode over to Yuya. They both turned
away from the rest of the teenagers. Briefly, Rohan swore that he saw Yuya scan
over him quickly with his light-colored eyes, possibly to size him up. Koichi,
having regained himself from being squashed, gently tugged on Rohan’s sleeve.
His wide eyes stared up at Rohan with his own brand of firm intensity. Rohan
relented, putting Heaven’s Door away.
 
With his attention no longer on Koichi, Rohan focused back to the secretive way
Yuya was shuffling around with Josuke. With a hand now on Josuke’s shoulder
too, Yuya put his mouth to Josuke’s ear and whispered something.
 
Josuke turned red and then swatted at Yuya’s shoulder, before Yuya and the
blonde went back to the group.
 
Curious, thought Rohan, but most of all—
 
He felt more irritated than before
 
---
 
As a show of good will, Rohan bought the tickets that they were lacking. He
himself had two—one each for Koichi and himself from an earlier failed
outing—and Josuke had six that he kept telling his friends that he won for
free. Whatever. Rohan filed the teenagers away into his head for reference:
 
    * Koichi-kun, his illustrious best friend who was too kind for the world,
      and his Plus One, Yukako.
    * Josuke—no comment.
    * Okuyasu, a simple-minded but otherwise decent kid if he wasn’t so loud
      all the time.
    * Mikitaka—an alien, apparently, which piqued Rohan’s interest.
      Suspiciously, the rest of the teens ushered Mikitaka away when he offered
      to show Rohan his ability to prove that he was an alien. Josuke, even
      more suspiciously, had paled the most at that suggestion.
    * Yuya, and his Plus Three—Yoshie (the blonde), Reiko, and Akemi. Koichi
      had promised that Yuya was a law-abiding citizen now, so Rohan swallowed
      his ill feelings as much as he could—for Koichi.
 
They had eight tickets on hand, but ten people.
 
“Koichi-kun, grab my card from my bag,” Rohan had relented, pointedly refusing
to look up from his sketches of the different people milling around in front of
the park entrance. All eyes had swept to Koichi, who shrugged nervously and
then dug around in Rohan’s satchel that was at his waist. Instead of pulling
out his wallet, Koichi had paused and then yanked out three disposable cameras.
 
“Rohan-sensei, what’s this? I thought I told you no cameras—you’re going to get
arrested if you take pictures of stranger’s kids!”
 
Josuke had then slapped himself in the face, and all eyes went from Koichi, to
Josuke, and then to Rohan.
 
Dashing in to salvage the situation again, Josuke then had taken the disposable
cameras from Koichi’s hands. “Rohan, you sentimental cad! Did ya kindly bring
cameras for Koichi and the rest of us to use? How incredibly generous and adult
of you!” suggested Josuke as he had clapped the skinny man in the
back—dislodging him from where he was sitting.
 
Rohan then straightened up gingerly, rubbing his back and pushing Josuke’s arm
off of him. What the hell was Josuke doing? Josuke had grabbed him by the wrist
this time, looking at him desperately and hissing through clenched teeth—“I
gave ya an easy out! Just take it, please.” The neck muscles had tightened in
Josuke's neck as he leaned in closer to Rohan, urging him desperately.
 
He then had rolled his eyes for the second time that day, feeling Josuke’s hand
tighten on his wrist.
 
Rohan then snatched his hand back, rubbing his wrist, and then had quietly
said, “Koichi-kun, you can distribute the cameras to your friends as you see
fit.”
 
The teens had breathed collectively—it was clear that none of them bought the
story, but they had looked relieved that an incredibly awkward conversation had
been near painlessly sidestepped. One camera had then went to Koichi, one to
Josuke, and one to Mikitaka. Koichi then had run to the ticket booth to
purchase the two extra tickets, and they were finally ready to enter the park.
 
---
 
Nose deep into his travel sketchbook, Rohan trailed behind the group. This
wasn’t his dream amusement park date he had hoped for with Koichi, but at least
he and Koichi were both in each other's vicinity even though there was a
distance of maybe six meters between them. Glancing up from his sketchbook, he
decided to amuse himself by studying the intricate social interactions within a
representative sampling of the teenage population.
 
The leader, apparently, was Josuke—who despite walking towards the front of the
group, was mostly just smiling and nodding as he listened to his friends
recount what they had been doing that summer. Koichi enthusiastically recounted
a story where a customer thought he was a lost child instead of the busser, and
then another incident where his boss was threatened with a lawsuit for the
illegal crime of child labor. They all broke out laughing in their individual
ways—Okuyasu slapping his knee, Mikitaka overcompensating by essentially
yelling out “ha’s” heartily with too much pause in between, and Josuke coughing
behind his hand as he cried with laughter.
 
After they all grabbed their park maps, he saw that some of the teens started
shuffling around each other—whisper-talking in such loud tones that there was
no point in trying to whisper at all. He didn’t bother eavesdropping—there was
a crowd of elementary school kids out with a summer activities group, and he
needed to capture the lively bunch of kids in his sketchbook since he had been
stripped of his cameras. Disappointed, Rohan had really thought that using
disposable cameras would make him pass off as a tourist better than employing
his full camera ensemble. The school children pushed each other around,
vibrating with excitement.
 
He found himself smiling self-satisfiedly—these kids who looked to be about
six-or-seven-years-old were not that different from the sixteen-year-olds he
was dealing with today. He heard a loud, jovial, “It’s fine, guys! Go have a
good time. I understand,” from Josuke, who then firmly hugged both Mikitaka and
Okuyasu before nodding fondly at Yuya. Josuke then broke from the group, and
made his way towards Rohan, Koichi, and—
 
Wait, where did Koichi and Yukako go?
 
“Yanno that yer crouching in the open in a theme park, staring intently at a
group of children, right?” chuckled Josuke, standing between Rohan and the
subjects he had been studying. As if on cue, the school teacher waved a
colorful flag and started marching with the children trailing behind her, like
ducklings, towards the restrooms. His subject matter gone, Rohan got up, put
his small sketchbook into his satchel, and then brushed off his dusty knees.
 
Holding a hand up over his eyes to shield out the sun, he peered around. The
lovebirds were gone, and the other teenagers were off to the side, mingling
nervously. The elf-like alien got down on one knee, clutching the long-haired
girl’s hand, before he got hoisted up by Okuyasu who was yelling, “Not yet,
Mikitaka!”
 
Snorting, Rohan dug through his satchel for a glasses case and pulled out a
pair of designer shades. They had dark brown lenses wrapped with delicate,
white frames that had metallic accents on it.
 
“Gucci?” asked Josuke.
 
“Yeah.”
 
“Mine too,” said Josuke as he also put his own sunglasses on—thick, stylish
purple frames with a diamond motif on the sides, and dark blue lenses. He
grinned cheekily, and Rohan judged the teen’s completed theme park outfit. He
had a light pink and blue windbreaker on that was zipped up to his neck, with a
small crossbody satchel. He was wearing black joggers—but the joggers were the
kind that were far too nice to actually go running in—with comfortable green
walking shoes.
 
Tasteless, as per usual—but, thought Rohan as he walked a half circle around
Josuke, the joggers framed his butt nicely.
 
It was too bad that Josuke’s sense of fashion was so off-kilter. In preparation
for a hot day full of walking, he himself had worn a cropped cold-shoulder
dolman shirt in white, with sharp, white denim shorts. His dress shoes were
comfortable, and also green. Head moving with his eyes, Rohan looked Josuke up
and down a few times, and then pressed a hand onto his hip, frowning.
 
“Is this what you’re spending your wages on? Ugly clothes?”
 
Popping the sunglasses further down his nose—probably because if he pushed them
up onto his head, they would mess up his signature pompadour—Josuke regarded
Rohan with a fed-up stare, “Sure, as if yer showy outfit is that much
better—did ya forget that yer going to be in the sun all day? Yer gonna either
burn or have a ridiculous tan line by the time we leave tonight, genius.”
 
“I have a sun umbrella,” countered the manga artist, pulling out the small
black umbrella for emphasis. It was certified to block out a good range of UV
rays, and was portable.
 
“How are ya gonna juggle an umbrella and a sketchbook?”
 
Hm, this was true.
 
Rohan flicked the tip of the umbrella towards Josuke. “You can hold the
umbrella while I draw, then.”
 
“I’m not gonna do that—I wanna actually go have fun today, not hold yer
umbrella and watch out for cops while ya creepily sketch children all goddamn
day.” Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Josuke walked backwards even though
Rohan kept thrusting the umbrella towards him as if he was fencing Josuke into
submission. Seeing his opening, he pressed the release button on the
umbrella—causing it to expand to its full length. With a strong swing of his
forearm, Josuke parried it to the side, then wrapped his arm around it and
yanked—dragging Rohan towards him.
 
“Wha—“
 
Instead of falling face-first into the ground, he instead fell into the crook
of Josuke’s outstretched arm. Steadying himself with his hands, Rohan’s fingers
dug into Josuke’s thick bicep. Thoroughly embarrassed, he whipped his head
around and saw Josuke looking down at him, smiling. It was a bright summer day,
and there was a thin halo of light around the edge of Josuke’s body.
 
The hairs stood up on the back of his neck, and Rohan’s fingers dug tighter
into Josuke’s bicep through his jacket. He righted himself with an awkward
flurry of limbs, disentangling himself haphazardly.
 
They were alone now, still hovering around the front of the amusement park. He
busied himself with retracting the umbrella before he placed it back into his
bag next to his other items, and then pulled out the theme park map to flip
open.
 
“Fine, then what do you want to do first then?”
 
Flabbergasted, the teen didn’t respond right away. “What do I wanna do?”
 
“Yeah, what do you want to do?” repeated Rohan mockingly, shaking the colorful
map open. The theme park was a decent size—he hadn’t taken a good look at it,
since the only plan he had made was to find charming, poignant scenes of
children and their families enjoying a heartwarming day to follow them so that
he could jot down notes for his research. Depicting such saccharine portraits
of familial love and joy were a challenge, even to an artist of his caliber.
There was nothing wrong with his own family life—he just didn’t take to the
traditional trimmings of happy family intimacy.
 
His upbringing was peppered with many awkward childhood outings that largely
involved carting a disinterested young Rohan around for beautiful day trips to
the beach or countryside. In every photo, he was usually hiding in the car
drawing or reading manga.
 
When his memories started to trickle back—he saw Reimi in his mind. In the old
memory, he remembered a plate of apple slices, a table covered in all manners
of paper that Reimi could find in her house for him to draw on, and the window
cracked open to let in a refreshing, early evening breeze. He had sat at a
table for hours, scribbling, and she held out an apple slice for him on a
toothpick. “You are the most polite, sweet child I’ve ever babysat. You are
also the easiest child I’ve ever babysat!” Shyly, he had ate the apple directly
from the toothpick—so he could continue drawing without stopping—and stared at
her with his bright green eyes, not speaking. “It’s because all you want to do
is draw, Rohan,” she chirped, holding out a new apple slice for him. “You draw
so beautifully, too.”
 
He regretted nothing, though. All the hours spent studying manga and drawing
filled him with boundless joy, and he did not envy other children who had to
endure being dragged through a theme park, slapping away mosquitoes, and
burning in the heat to stand in lines to be granted the privilege of being
launched through terrifying, rickety thrill rides on sticky, plastic seats.
 
However, now he had a monthly manga to draw—and any scrap of experience that
could potentially be used for his manga was very welcome. So with this as his
new goal, theme parks were an acceptable and productive activity for him to
undertake as a professional adult with responsibilities to meet. Perhaps he
could sneak a few quick sketches when they waited in line so that he could
fulfill his original goal of studying the picturesque family lives of run-of-
the-mill, normal kids.
 
Shifting from foot to foot, Josuke mumbled, “I figured that I would just wander
around the park by myself since everyone is off on a group date.”
 
“Is that what’s happening?”
 
“Yeah, they all just kind of paired off.”
 
Rohan passed the opened map to Josuke, who took it hesitantly. The shorter man
adjusted his sunglasses and scanned their surroundings—in the distance, he
could hear the threat of a parade slowly crawling towards them from deeper in
the park. “I see. Well, we are pairing off too then. Besides, you and Koichi
have been insisting repeatedly that it is improper of me to photograph or draw
children—especially by myself—so I might as well just commit them to memory and
draw them later. So let’s go. Where do you want to head first?”
 
Interestingly, Josuke smiled before quickly covering his hand with his mouth,
as if he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to smile.
 
“What are you so happy about that?” questioned Rohan, impatient.
 
Flapping the theme park map open, Josuke cleared his throat and then held the
map up over his face, explaining, “We’re at a theme park, what’s not to be
happy about?”
 
“Right. I can see right through you—you’re happy to be on a date with me, the
great Rohan Kishibe. It’s an honor, isn’t it?”
 
Lowering the map, Josuke peaked over it—his expression further hidden by
sunglasses. For several seconds, he didn’t say anything. Rohan waited, grinning
to himself knowingly. Who wouldn’t be absolutely chuffed to be on a date with
Rohan Kishibe? In fact, it was something the marketing department had wanted to
do as a contest—they had pitched to him, “How about a fanart contest where the
winner could show you their original manga ideas over dinner? It would be great
publicity!”
 
Rohan Kishibe did not have time for that though, so he consistently had turned
these shallow marketing ploys down. Josuke was lucky enough to be the only
person—other than Koichi, of course, whose reactions to spending a day with
Rohan would range from openly fearful to muted happiness—to be on a date with a
distinguished, famous celebrity figure such as himself.
 
“If it’s a date, then do you wanna hold hands?” Josuke’s voice dripped with
mischief as he held out his hand towards Rohan. Snickering, he wiggled his
pinky in the air.
 
Briefly, Rohan felt his composure shift at the taunt, but he rearranged himself
quickly and acted impulsively after he saw Josuke duck his head back down
behind the map, shoulders shaking with laughter.
 
“Actually,” he said steadily, grabbing Josuke’s outstretched hand and roughly
yanking the tall teen down towards his face, “I do.”
 
Josuke looked over his sunglasses, and Rohan could not suppress his face
twitching irritably at Josuke’s raised eyebrow.
 
“Handholding… fer research?” questioned Josuke.
 
“Handholding because it’s what people do on dates. Handholding because I want
to hold hands.” Rohan was fed up—Josuke was playing stupid, childish games with
him again, and he wasn’t going to have any of it. He wasn’t sure what kind of
goal the scheming teenager had this time, but he wasn’t going to fall for it
again.
 
“Ya sure that the paparazzi won’t swarm all over this apparent scandal? Yanno,
Rohan Kishibe holdin' hands with a teenager?”
 
“I moved out here to the near-middle-of-nowhere because there are no paparazzi,
so no. I’m not concerned about that.”
 
Unexpectedly, Josuke paled—the finality of the situation finally setting in now
that Rohan started walking with him in tow towards the closest themed land of
the park. Keeping the map over his mouth, he asked in hushed tones, “Ya really
committing to this?”
 
“Yes. Be thankful.”
 
The large teen fondly bumped shoulders with Rohan, walking unevenly from having
to bend down to meet Rohan’s height. “I am.”
 
Slyly, Josuke tucked their joined hands into the pocket of his windbreaker.
Rohan pointedly kept them walking in the shade, even if it meant shoving past
families with strollers to fight them for a sliver of shadow. The baby already
had a cover on the stroller, so he deserved the shade more than the baby. They
both noticed that there had never been a real threat of people seeing them walk
with their hands together. They and everyone else in the park were already
forced to walk squeezed up against each other through the thick swaths of
people undulating around them from every direction. It was nearly impossible to
tell where one body ended and where another one began.
 
He cursed Josuke’s height that allowed him to breathe clean air above the heads
of everyone else. Meanwhile, Rohan shielded his face with his free hand, having
smelled and nearly planted his face in other people’s sweaty pits twice
already.
 
He knew now that going to a theme park during a time when students were out of
the school was a fate worse than death.
 
Summer break was in full swing, and despite the oppressive heat, people were
somehow having a good time—which was utterly unfathomable. The overdressed duo
found themselves weaving through different clusters of park goers in the park’s
highly inaccurate interpretation of a romantic, Italian town. Rohan flinched
when an overhead sprinkler system started to mist cool water—where was the
water sourced from? How could he be sure it was safe for his skin? Alarmed, he
struggled to switch his satchel to the front of his body to get his umbrella,
but Josuke stopped him. Supposedly, there were too many people around them for
Rohan to carry a sun umbrella without its spines poking someone in the eye.
Rohan grumbled. As a compromise, they took shelter in the covered outdoor patio
of a pink shop that sold themed chocolate. It smelled far too sweet.
 
When the Misting ended, Josuke—who was enjoying himself far too much as he
gawked and pointed at all of the gaudy decorations around them—led Rohan back
out in the fake cobbled streets. There were no rides in this part of the
park—just some cheesy walk-through attractions to make the visitors feel like
they were in Italy. Obviously, gagged the manga artist disdainfully, they were
hardly authentic experiences. Having spent a significant portion of his
esteemed art education in Europe, Rohan stared at Josuke with dead eyes when he
suggested they check out the mini models of the Colosseum and Pantheon.
 
There wasn’t a single opportunity to pull out his sketchbook in the tight,
confined spaces of the park guests. Why the hell did it feel like everyone was
in just this one section of the park? Some people were in line to take pictures
with the park’s mascot characters. Sure, the mascot characters—elephants, for
reasons that were completely lost on him—were kind of cute, but hardly
warranted 80% of the park’s patrons packed into one area. Others were gathering
by an outdoor cart to sample some of the limited summer offerings. Unless the
park was giving out gold-covered hot dogs and refillable souvenir cups for
free, Rohan was still unable to make sense of the dense crowds. The air around
everyone grew progressively more electric, until the speakers crackled on:
 
“Happy Afternoon, park goers! Please join us for our Summer Splash Parade
Spectacular, arriving in just five minutes!”
 
During his fight for survival since they entered Little Italy, he had somehow
forgot about the parade.
 
“We need to go,” croaked Rohan, voice breaking with true fear.
 
“You don’t wanna see the parade?”
 
“I don’t want to experience the parade.”
 
“Okay, that’s understandable. I’m not exactly thrilled that the park employees
are now marking off parts of the street as ‘spash zone.’ The heat is already
doin' my hair no favors.” Josuke smoothed back some of his bangs that were
coming loose from his pompadour.
 
“You can see above the crowds—get us out of here,” implored the frazzled man,
sweat pouring, as he wrapped himself tightly around Josuke’s firm, secure arm.
“Please.”
 
“Roger.”
 
---
 
It took a solid twenty minutes for them to finally escape the terror of the
impending Summer Splash Parade Spectacular, and they were both hunched over,
drenched with sweat, as they struggled to get their breath back. Despite their
expert team work in using Rohan’s smaller stand that could be controlled
further away than Josuke’s, and Crazy Diamond breaking and repairing fences and
other inaccessible parts of the park left and right for them to dash through,
they had almost been swallowed by the surging crowds of people in raincoats
losing their minds at the rapidly approaching Parade.
 
It was precisely the sight of so many people buttoning up their clear, plastic
raincoats that had convinced Josuke that it was time to just do whatever it
took to get out of the tightly packed corridors of squirming, screaming park
guests. If Rohan would do anything for Koichi, Josuke would do anything for his
hair.
 
At a breakneck speed, Crazy Diamond had punched through multiple
walls—including a restroom, which was absolutely disgusting to think about—to
smash through onto the other side of fake Italy. They had emerged in a fantasy
interpretation of the Wild West, on the dusty porch of a fake saloon.
 
“Jooosuke, I heard a bunch of ‘dora-dora’s’! Are you okay?” shrieked his small
best friend that sprinted over to them as fast as he could. Koichi had asked
about Josuke’s wellbeing before Rohan’s. Must have been a slip of the tongue.
 
“I’mokay, Koichi-kun,” interrupted Rohan as he tried to stumble into a proper
standing position like a newly born doe who was already hitting the hard
liquor. Grasping onto a decorative hitching post for horses, the manga
artist—who was not particularly well known for athletic abilities since he
spent most of his time cooped up at home, drawing—pulled himself up with
difficulty.
 
Fretting, Koichi hopped around the pair, babbling if they were had been
attacked by an enemy stand. At the silent, slow raise of Josuke’s hand though,
Koichi stopped talking.
 
“We’re fine,” Josuke said between crazed, sputtering laughs, “We just barely
made it out of the splash zone.”
 
The confusion in Koichi’s face was replaced with deep concern. Having been
calmly assessing the situation, Yukako walked toward the exhausted men and held
out an unopened bottle of water she had pulled from her backpack.
 
She concluded ultimately, “They’re dehydrated.”
 
Josuke’s vision swam in front of him, and he yiped when he felt the cold water
sloshing onto his face and down his chin while Koichi begged him to drink. The
refreshing touch of the liquid made him jerk awake, and with his short friend’s
reliable hands guiding him, he slowly held the bottle himself and drank deeply.
He regained his senses enough to stop drinking roughly halfway through its
contents, and then passed it over to the stubborn older man who was dazedly
insisting that he was fine. Rohan tried to fight off their help, but he was so
weak and feeble that Koichi fed Rohan the other half of the bottle easily.
 
Like Josuke, he didn’t come to immediately—but he did realize that he did need
some help. Unwilling to be held up by both Koichi and Yukako, he flopped into
Josuke’s arms while muttering, “This one’s strong”—not heeding how Josuke was
only slightly less dehydrated than him. Fortunately, an ice cream parlor was
only a few paces away.
 
A lifeless ragdoll, Rohan was dragged and then seated into the air conditioned
café with the help of the staff. It was too difficult to explain that Josuke
and Rohan had dehydrated themselves by using their stands to get away
from—ironically—a traveling water show. They had been so desperate to escape
that their adrenaline made them forget their thirst. Yukako told the staff
instead that the two idiots were so excited about going to the theme park that
they didn’t drink water. With an understanding look, the staffers
sympathetically said that it happened quite often.
 
The waiter set down two ice cream sundaes and four tall glasses of water for
the party. After finishing off two more glasses of water, Josuke was mostly
roused to normalcy. He moved onto his dessert and slurped the ice cream off of
his spoon with a smile. The chocolate syrup was still hot, and the vanilla ice
cream was so rich and cold on his tongue. He placed a hand against his cheek
appreciatively and shivered with delight.
 
“Sorry guys, I forgot that my water was in Okuyasu’s bag,” he said around a
mouthful of ice cream.
 
“Josuke, don’t just laugh about this! It’s a very big deal!” cried their big
hearted friend, who slapped the table with frustration. “I don’t know how you
could survive getting creamed within an inch of your life by enemy stand users
without dying, yet nearly kill yourself by just forgetting to drink water!”
 
“That’s pretty stupid of ya,” slurred Rohan slowly, forehead pressed into the
cold, black iron of the table.
 
“You're no better, Rohan-sensei!”
 
“I’ll have you know,” started the quivering man, sitting up quickly but then
lilting to the side, dizzy, “that Josuke is my assistant, and should have been
assisting me.”
 
Yukako and Koichi looked at each other, and she dryly said, “Assistant.”
 
“Assisting you? In what? Making sure that yer bodily fluids are balanced?”
Josuke laugh-coughed around another spoonful of ice cream, making a mess. The
sleepiness brought on by dehydration was mostly gone, and Josuke hungrily ate
more of his deluxe dessert.
 
Jabbing his own ice cream spoon into the sundae, Rohan sagged forward, glaring
as threateningly as he could, before conceding, “Whatever.”
 
Unsmiling, Yukako recrossed her legs and then pushed her untouched glass of
water towards Rohan. “Drink more water.”
 
“I’m getting to it!” sputtered Rohan, who was having difficulties steering the
spoon into his mouth.
 
The ends of Yukako’s hair glowed as they floated upwards menacingly, but Koichi
looked at her pleadingly with his hand on her’s. She disarmed her stand. Seeing
no reason to continue trying to help the thankless man, she gracefully started
eating her shared sundae with Koichi.
 
Cautiously, Josuke nudged Rohan in the shoulder. Yukako was a friend—even if he
didn’t understand her most of the time, Rohan was not allowed to be rude to his
friends like that. “Hey, ya shouldn’t talk to her like that—she helped us.” Not
wanting to be lectured in any capacity, Rohan fumed quietly—he purposely
focused only on comprehending how to guide the spoon to his mouth.
 
Seeing no other choice, Josuke poured a mouthful of water into Rohan’s slack
mouth and closed it before tilting the man’s head back. It was messy, and Rohan
flapped around uselessly, but it did the job. After the fifth gulp of water, he
startled as if he was snapped out of a stupor. Seemingly, the half bottle of
water he had before at the hitching post and the last few mouthfuls Josuke had
poured into him finally rewetted his body.
 
Shaking, the reanimated man patted around himself blindly until Koichi pressed
a napkin into his hand. Delicately, Rohan dabbed at the excess water around his
mouth that ran down past his chin to his neck. His white crop top was drenched
down the front, but no amount of dabbing would be able to dry it out.
 
He blinked slowly, then scanned the faces of the people surrounding himself as
if he was seeing them all for the first time.
 
“Should I slap him?” pondered Josuke out loud, almost done eating his sundae
that he had orginally intended to share with Rohan.
 
“No, I think he’s coming back to us. Look at his eyes,” remarked Yukako coolly.
She offered Koichi a small bite of ice cream, but he was too scared for Rohan’s
wellbeing to eat.
 
Uninitiated, Rohan bowed his head down, apologizing, “I’m sorry for misspeaking
earlier. Thank you.”
 
Relieved, Koichi let go of the breath he had been holding and ate his ice
cream.
 
---
 
As a fairly manageable group of four, they waited in line for the log ride.
Normally, Josuke had said, he would be completely against getting his nice
clothes wet. However, he was already wet from the desperate attempts at
hydrating him earlier—which he appreciated, so no offense at all to his saviors
Yukako and Koichi—plus, he had come somewhat prepared with a waterproof bag and
water-resistant windbreaker. Still a bit distant, Rohan leaned against the pole
separating the lines at the ride.
 
“I wouldn’t suggest the Crusher,” said Yukako, looking as proper as she always
did. Impossibly, she had neither a single bead of sweat nor even a thin layer
of perspiration on her. She was excessive both in her beauty and also her
ability to pierce people with her sharp tongue and eyes. Reflexively again,
Josuke looked away when they made eye contact. Unless they were fighting—which
he did not want to do ever again, now that he was attached to her as a
friend—he didn’t see the point in locking eyes with his short-tempered and
powerfully passionate classmate. “It was underwhelming,” she concluded.
 
“That’s all? What about it was underwhelming, though?” They had to speak up
above the babbling, rushing water of the fake river next to the long line they
were in. Every now and then people in logs would skirt by, splashing water and
screaming vague, drowned out profanities.
 
She narrowed her eyes at him, “It just was.”
 
“I thought it was pretty scary! It doesn’t have any drops or anything
though—just a lot more fire than I thought it would have,” helpfully added
Koichi as he reapplied sunblock to himself.
 
“I thought the Crusher was like, about a massive boulder crushing ya or
somethin'. Like a drop ride, but ya go into a basement instead or whatever
instead of fallin' from the sky.” Josuke made two fists—one to represent the
boulder, and the other to represent the seated riders. The boulder fist dropped
quickly (“Like, thunk!”) as if to slam into the seat fist but then the seat
fist dropped immediately after (“Like, whooooaaaaa!! With echoes because you’re
falling into a cavern!”).
 
“I mean yeah, kind of? I think it was—hmm. Rohan-sensei, could I borrow a piece
of paper? I think I can explain it better if I try to draw it out.”
 
Having been outside of the conversation, Rohan was now idly sketching the crowd
around them. He was sitting on the chainlink bar between the posts that
separated the lines.
 
“Of course, Koichi-kun,” said Rohan with a genuine smile, he started tearing
off the adjacent page to what he was working on. As he did so, the drawings
behind it were revealed, and Josuke saw the very familiar page filled with
terrifyingly accurate drawings of himself by Rohan’s hand. The ones of him in a
school uniform and wearing puppy cosplay, posing in all manners that Rohan’s
imagination wanted him to pose like.
 
In a whirlwind of action, he grabbed the sketchbook and flung it over the fence
into the fake river, where it was promptly hit by a log full of riders speeding
by. Then it was gone.
 
Dumbfounded, nobody moved at first.
 
“What the fuck?!” yelled Rohan. Parents and children snapped to look at him,
and Koichi dropped to his knees, as if he was about to pray. “What the fu—“
Rohan almost repeated, before Yukako clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes
burning as she pressed a finger to her lips and hissed, “Kids.”
 
Her attention then switched to Josuke, and even though she did not look pleased
to be dealing with the fall out of what happened, she was going to take care of
it. “Explain.”
 
“I—“ futilely attempted Josuke, trying to find something to say. His body
thrummed with adrenaline, and he gestured wildly as he fought for an excuse.
“I’ll just see it fer myself! The Crusher, that is. Sorry, I didn’t wanna get
spoiled anymore on what happens. So, um, yeah?”
 
They all stared at each other.
 
Yukako released her grip on Rohan and then took hand sanitizer out of her bag.
She didn’t look up as she cleaned her hand that had been over Rohan’s mouth.
 
Now free, Rohan had surpassed the Outburst stage of his anger and was now
simply seething in place.
 
As his heartbeat settled, Josuke knew he had to apologize. “I’m sorry, that was
out of line—I didn’t mean to spoil the mood fer everyone. I’ll make it up to ya
guys, promise.” Koichi politely declined, saying that it’s okay—weirder things
have happened, and that perhaps it was just residual delirium from the
dehydration that caused Josuke to toss Rohan’s sketchbook into the artificial
river. Still, Josuke put both hands together and pleaded with a smile that he
would definitely, totally make it up somehow.
 
Everyone was quiet until they were closer to the end of the line. As the
excitement settled in, they also reclaimed their earlier moods—though Rohan was
still as prickly as usual. Relieved that Koichi and Yukako were back to their
version of normal, Josuke witnessed the look of discomfort that consistently
crossed Rohan’s face whenever the teen couple would get too showy with their
affection.
 
While the young lovers were hardly excessive in their flirting, even the
smaller, more common gestures—Yukako bending down to let Koichi tuck her hair
behind her ear with a yellow flower he picked off a bush—triggered Rohan’s gag
reflex. His eyes were fixed on Koichi almost as much as Yukako’s eyes had been
fixed on Koichi.
 
He knew that Rohan liked Koichi, but did he like Koichi?
 
No, that wasn’t it. Koichi was more like a crux for Rohan to fall back on—while
he never doubted the sincerity of Rohan’s affection for the extremely likeable
young man, his overwhelming displays of near obsessive and dangerous affection
for Koichi had always felt like overcompensation. Having spent so much time
with Rohan by now, Josuke had a number of theories. The first and foremost
theory he had was that perhaps Rohan had the capacity to adore multiple friends
in healthy doses—but since he only had one friend, he was cramming all of that
collective attention onto one person. What normally would have been a steady
stream was more like a powerful fire hose of friendliness.
 
By the time it was their turn to ride, Josuke decided he could make a little
sacrifice if it meant his friends—Rohan included—would have a good time.
 
He rode in front—the wettest part of the seating chart—followed by Rohan, then
Koichi, and then Yukako.
 
Squirming with unchecked excitement, Koichi popped his small fist into Rohan’s
shoulder and yelled, “Can you believe it? We’re gonna go soon! Oh my gosh!”
 
Twisting around in his seat as much as he could with the restraints on him,
Rohan enthusiastically nodded, saying, “Yes! I’m also very—“ he caught himself,
then cleared his throat suddenly. Rohan then tried to control his movements and
tone more, continuing at a lower volume, “I’m pleased that you are having a
good time, Koichi-kun.” They chatted away as the log bumped the edges of the
ride, floating slowly towards the rollers that would help them gather enough
speed to carry them through their rocky journey through fake caves, miniature
forests with tiny cabins, and mechanical forest creatures. As the whirring of
the rollers became louder, Josuke knew his hairstyle would soon come to an end.
 
Reminding himself that it was for friendship and also that his hair was already
starting to fall apart, Josuke slid down as much as he could in his seat and
felt his shoes slip around in the small puddles inside of the metallic log.
 
Briefly, he thought that if Yukako emerged from the log ride as perfect and dry
as she was before they got on it, then there must be some stand shenanigans
going on. The rollers grabbed the log, and their group shot off—immediately
careening through a number of cascading waterfalls above them as they started
their chlorine-scented adventure through the (just as fake as plastic Italy’s)
American Wilderness.
***** Chapter 18 *****
Chapter Notes
     these theme park chapters are long hoo hoo hoo
     do not fear, friends, the next chapter is more sex
After spotting the sun-bleached examples displayed at the photo booth outside
the log ride, Rohan bought two copies of the souvenir photo, which came in a
decorative, cardstock frame. The overexposed photo just barely had  enough
detail in it to capture their individual expressions right before their 200
foot nearly vertical drop ended in a splash surrounded by mechanical woodland
creatures and artificial pine trees.
 
In the very front of the log was Josuke, who had a disturbingly serene smile on
his calm face after having completely accepted his hair’s fate. Behind him was
Rohan, who had somehow undid his restraints and foolishly stood up at some
point in an attempt to hop out of the ride shortly before the rapid descent.
Holding Rohan down literally by the seat of his pants was Koichi, face
contorted with horror. His own small body was being secured with Yukako’s
steady arms-- she had smartly tightened her hold onto the rest of the plastic
log boat with her long, curly hair.
 
Thankfully, the staff who issued them their souvenir photos had done so without
a single comment about any of the many, many things going wrong in their photo.
The two photos were divvied up into individual bags, taped shut, and then
distributed to the soaked teenagers without any incident.
 
Later, Yukako emerged from the restroom, hands still gently wringing her damp
hair.
 
“Oh come on! Ya didn’t even get that wet!” cried out Josuke jealously as he
fanned his dripping, supposedly-water-resistant windbreaker out before laying
it onto a warm bench. His black jogging pants were soaked too-- making them
stick wetly against his skin. Unfortunately, he could not remove his pants to
dry them out like his jacket, so he settled with pulling his waistband forward
and shaking the wetted fabric away from his legs to air out his bottoms.
 
(From afar, Rohan quietly admired the way the wet joggers clung to all of the
curves of Josuke’s ass. He missed his sketchbook already.)
 
While lightly smoothing her fingers through her hair, Yukako explained, “True,
but I had to rinse out any chlorine that may have gotten on it.” She tied off
her curly hair and draped the long, fluffy ponytail behind herself before
sitting on a shaded bench. On the bed was Koichi, who had been admiring the
souvenir photo by himself. Smiling warmly, Koichi looked up when she rejoined
him. The girl’s typically chilly demeanor changed immediately as she settled
comfortably next to her boyfriend to look at the photo of their antics.
 
“Thanks for buying the souvenir photos, Rohan-sensei,” called out Koichi with a
friendly wave of his hand.
 
Rohan, who had been standing off by himself since he had decided that
regardless of his damp clothes, he would rather shiver in the shade than burn
in the sun, acknowledged the remark with a stiff nod.
 
Turning his attention to Josuke, Koichi beamed sincerely, “And Josuke, thanks
for inviting us all out today.” Wordlessly, Yukako stood up then and offered
Josuke an elastic hair tie for his ruined pompadour. Out of all his friends,
Yukako probably understood the pride he had in his hair the most, with Okuyasu
a close second. The small gesture, as a result, was extra meaningful to him.
Josuke took the black hair tie and secured his soaked bangs out of his face
with it. “Thanks, Yukako-- and thank you too, Koichi, for coming to hang out.
I’m really glad that we can all spend time together like this.”
 
They took a break on the benches while waiting for Josuke’s clothes to dry,
eating their packed snacks, reapplying sunblock, and overall just enjoying the
feeling of summer. Josuke was laying with his back on the bench, basking in the
warmth of the hot sun as his undershirt gradually felt less clammy against his
body. To his side, he could hear Koichi laughing and talking with Yukako while
he brushed out her mostly dried hair with a small comb she always carried.
 
 
 
He wasn’t entirely sure, but he may had taken a brief nap and lost track of
time at some point. Sitting up with a yawn, Josuke regarded his peaceful
surroundings. Koichi and Yukako were taking pictures of each other with the
disposable camera-- in one pose, Yukako tied her long hair at her chin so that
it looked like she had a beard, and Koichi threw himself back onto the bench,
rocking with laughter. She held out a hand to try to steady him even though she
also started shaking with giggles. While Josuke still couldn’t understand how
their relationship worked, he admired them for what they had.
 
However, Josuke awkwardly looked away-- their tender moment was a bit too
intimate for him. He glanced at the shady spot where Rohan had been earlier to
see if the manga artist was doubling over with disgust at the young couple, but
instead saw that he wasn’t there. At some point, Rohan must have left.
 
“Yo, Josuke!”
 
Approaching the rest area was a familiar group of faces-- it was the rest of
their party. Okuyasu excitedly jogged over, having been the one to call out to
him.
 
“Guys!” said Josuke, hopping up too. He and Okuyasu met in the middle, clasping
hands with matching, toothy grins. The rest of his classmates-- Mikitaka,
Reiko, Yuya, Yoshie, and Akemi-- waved as they walked up, taking their time as
they chatted amongst themselves. Josuke spun Okuyasu around so that their backs
were facing the others, then pressed a fist into Okuyasu’s shoulder while
smiling mischievously.
 
“So?” he teased, unable to hide his giddiness, “How’s the triple date goin',
huh? Did anyone kiss yet?”
 
Okuyasu snort-laughed and then hooked a thumb towards himself, “This guy! But
not the way ya’d think, see--”
 
Mikitaka wrapped his arms around both their shoulders, completing the circle
and thus making the three of them look like they were huddled for a team chant.
“Are we telling secrets?” he said, adopting a sly look that he clearly
mimicked from Josuke.
 
“Naw, I’m just havin' Okuyasu update me on your first date! He said he kissed
someone-- is that true? Who’d he kiss?”
 
“Me!” announced Mikitaka obediently, sticking his hand straight up into the air
as if answering a question in class. At that, Okuyasu started cracking up,
breaking out of their huddle as he grabbed his knees so he wouldn’t fall over
with laughter.
 
“No way?” barked Josuke, now laughing too.
 
“Yes! It went like this: We were in the love tunnel, four of us-- but it was
dark and the girls had switched seats. Okuyasu ran his hands through my hair,
thinking that I was Akemi, and kissed me. I was very impressed. The girls had
outpranked us, the prankers, while Okuyasu proved his courage by kissing
blindly!”
 
The mental image was killing him. Josuke hiccuped from laughing, then managed
to cough out, “Smooth, Okuyasu!”
 
“I--” he heaved, unable to breath as his body shook with ugly laughter, “Know!”
No longer able to hold himself upright, Okuyasu fell to his knees on the floor,
howling.
 
Josuke struggled to regain his own composure, standing as upright as he could
and pressing his hand over his mouth to try to stop from breaking up. He took a
deep breath. “When did ya notice that it was Mikitaka?”
 
“When-- I-- felt the nose ring, god!” Helpful as always, Mikitaka was guiding
Okuyasu up to a bench. He dropped him off onto the closest one, where Yuya was
waiting for the girls to come back from the restroom.
 
“Are you guys talking about the kiss?” asked Yuya, who was checking his
appearance with a personalized pocket mirror.
 
“We are!” said Mikitaka with a small, delighted clap. Yuya eyed Okuyasu, who
looked like he could combust into another laughing fit at any moment, even
though he was holding his breath now to try to stop them.
 
“I admire a man with courage, Okuyasu-- sorry that the girls switched on you.
They did that before with me too. I should have warned you.” With an approving
look, Yuya firmly grasped the back of Okuyasu’s neck and gave him a friendly
shake. All Okuyasu could manage was to nod vehemently, tears in his eyes as he
fought off the last of the giggles.
 
“I’m proud that my first kiss was with a very good friend,” commented their
blonde, mysterious alien schoolmate who shrugged Okuyasu’s backpack on so as to
lighten his load. Okuyasu stilled suddenly-- then turned to look at Mikitaka
with a wilting expression.
 
“Man, that’s so frickin' sweet. Yer such a good pal, Mikitaka-- just such a
good pal!” he warbled, eyes wet. “I want you to know I feel the same way too,
dude! I have nothin' to regret. It was a lot of fun! We’re makin' memories
we’re never gonna forget!” They nodded together at the same time, emotional
from the power of friendship.
 
Yuya fixed his eyes on Josuke again, then motioned him over.
 
“Thanks fer helping set this up, Yuya. I’m glad that it looks like everyone is
having a truly... momentous day," chuckled Josuke as he genially bumped
shoulders with his tattooed classmate.
 
“Yeah, no problem. Who knows, maybe by the end of today-- someone will be like
those two. Yes, I see you over there, Koichi,” said the motorcyclist loudly.
 
Koichi startled when Josuke and Yuya both glanced at him at the same time-- he
had been trying to take candid photos of his classmates having fun. Yukako was
fixing her makeup behind him, no longer wearing a hair-beard. Embarrassed,
Koichi stuffed his disposable camera away and bounced onto his feet.
 
“I-it was nice seeing you guys, but I think I should go find Rohan-sensei
before he gets into trouble. Have a good time on your group date!”
 
Josuke threw out an arm in front of his shorter friend, “Whoa, whoa! Speaking
of dates, you and Yukako should go back to being on yours. You two have stuck
with us a lot today and should go enjoy each other’s company. Don’t worry about
Rohan, I’ll go find 'im.”
 
Koichi looked hesitant and guilty-- he was always trying his best to do right
by others. Not wanting his small friend to be upset, Josuke joked, “Ya think
they can call for him over the intercom system like they do with missing
children?” He held up a hand to his mouth as if he was speaking into a
microphone and tried to adopt the calm, pleasing, voice of the woman staffer
who had been making announcements over the intercom all day, “‘Excuse me, could
a Rohan Kishibe come to the Information Desk? Rohan Kishibe, your party is
waiting for you.’”
 
He was relieved to see that his impression did the trick-- Koichi’s worried
face broke into a new smile. When Josuke looked up, he saw that Yukako’s eyes
were smiling too. Thanks for the hair tie, he thought-- oh, and saving their
lives earlier when she was the only one who could think clearly enough to know
that they were on the verge of collapse from dehydration.
 
They agreed to meet at the park gates after the fireworks ended. Remembering
his windbreaker, Josuke picked it up off the bench and grinned-- it was dry
now. While he had been cursing the hot sun for most of summer, he was relieved
that today it was working out in his favor. Sadly, his undershirt and jogging
shorts were still slightly damp. He turned around to quickly pull off his shirt
and put on the dry windbreaker, then set the undershirt onto the bench to dry
too.
 
“What’s taking the girls so long?” wondered Okuyasu as he ate a mouthful of
sandwich. He offered one to Josuke, but Josuke shook his head-- he had eaten
off of Yukako and Koichi already, and was full.
 
“The girls are probably busy. Smells like Akemi just got her period.”
 
Mikitaka inhaled two sandwiches-- plastic wrap and all-- and tilted his head at
how Josuke and Okuyasu both made disgusted noises at that revelation.
 
“What? It’s a natural cycle for a woman,” excused Yuya, smiling self-
satisfiedly.
 
Josuke took the plastic wrap off this time before he handed another sandwich to
Mikitaka as he explained, “It is, but I dunno if she wants you to be announcing
it to everyone that she’s on her period. Even though I was on the floor of the
hospital that one time, I remember seein' how embarrassed Yoshie looked when
you just out of the goddamn blue said she was on her period.”
 
Yuya’s jaw tightened, and he legitimately looked ashamed. “You’re right-
- sorry.”
 
“Man, yer nose is really something, though,” sighed Josuke. Then he remembered
what Yuya had taken him aside to say earlier before they entered the park--
 
“You and Rohan smell the same. I guess that means you two are real close, huh?
I’ll take your word then that he’s a decent guy.”
 
Holding up the front of the windbreaker to his nose, Josuke sniffed-- to him,
it just smelled like chlorine from the log ride, and there was a faint wood
smell from the wooden bench he dried it out on. He hadn’t even worn this jacket
to Rohan’s before, nor had he seen Rohan for days before coming to the theme
park. Odd.
 
“Anyway, you don’t need to alert the theme park about a missing manchild-- I
know where he went,” started Yuya, with another wrinkle of his nose. “When we
were walking over, I thought I smelled you-- but it was just Rohan passing us.
He looked like he was going to the love tunnel ride by himself.”
 
Okuyasu stopped drinking his bottle of water to gawk at Yuya. “Yer nose must be
broken, idiot-- Josuke and Rohan can’t possibly smell the same! I know from
first-hand experience that Josuke smells warm, cinnamon-y, and like hairspray.
Rohan probably smells like heat rub ointment ‘cause he’s an old grouch!”
 
Yuya tossed a blank look towards Josuke, who cracked up.
 
---
 
Rohan was still lingering around the love tunnel ride when Josuke caught up to
him.
 
Here comes the puppy child, thought Roahn with a flinch. It didn’t surprise him
at all that the clingy teenager had somehow tracked him down in a large,
unfamiliar theme park in no time at all. The damn lovesick brat was all over
him these days. Well, Josuke would have to wait, though. Rohan was busy bodily
waving-- most of his upper half over the fence that prevented parkgoers from
falling into the love tunnel's river-- at Koichi as he and Yukako entered the
ride’s dark cavern in their painfully slow, heart-shaped boat. Koichi didn’t
turn around. Disappointed, Rohan clicked his tongue.
 
“Found ya! Did you see Koi--”
 
“They just went in the tunnel,” interrupted Rohan with a sharp flick of his
head towards the entrance of the ride. Damn, he should have yelled to try to
get their attention. Then again, Koichi and Yukako were so disgustingly in
love-- the entire world could go to shit around them, but they'd probably still
be staring into each other's eyes. Blech, spat Rohan. He reminded himself to be
happy for Koichi's happiness, but something about such wanton displays of open
affection and adoration between the two teenagers made his skin crawl.
 
“Oh, okay. Cool. Did they tell ya that we’re gonna meet at the front gate with
everyone tonight after the fireworks?”
 
“No, I didn’t talk to them.” In fact, Rohan had been quietly people watching
from his spot near where the ride began, and only came across his esteemed
Bestie by chance when they rounded the corner from the loading dock. He looked
at Josuke, who was slightly breathless from jogging over-- the kid was probably
dying to be reunited with Rohan again. His desperation was endearing, at least.
So far, Josuke was within acceptable limits of touchy-feely interactions too.
The most they had done was hold hands in the park. The lanky teenager wiped his
damp forehead off with the back of his arm, leaning forward with his other hand
on his knee. There were still some dark, damp-looking spots on his joggers.
 
“Why is your pocket bulging like that?” asked the older man.
 
"Huh? Oh," Josuke pulled out a wrinkled undershirt that was stuffed into his
left pocket, holding it up for Rohan to see. “My undershirt. I didn't get to
dry it out since I was wearing it, so it's still pretty wet. I switched out of
it with my dried jacket.”
 
Hmm.
 
“Are you shirtless under your windbreaker?”
 
“Yeah.”
 
Rohan’s eyes widened-- intriguing, he mused-- and then allowed his focus to
drift up and down Josuke’s upper body. He stepped forward with his hand
outstretched towards the zipper at the teen’s neck-- just a touch-- but was
foiled when Josuke’s quicker reflexes bested him by snatching Rohan’s hand
right before his fingertips touched the metal zipper pull. Shit.
 
The cheeky brat curled their fingers together with a smile. His large hand was
so warm. Rohan shivered-- he was still chilly from the water ride.
 
Expression switching to that of concern, Josuke wrapped himself around Rohan,
their hands still interlaced. One muscular arm circled Rohan’s thin waist,
holding the smaller man comfortably close to Josuke's large frame. Belatedly,
Rohan started trying to squirm out after the shock of suddenly being engulfed
by the teenager went away. This was too much touching far too fast-- his heart
hammered in his chest as obscenities drowned out his rational thoughts in his
head, feeling Josuke's comforting, hot touch soothe his back. Whispering into
the shorter man’s wet hair, Josuke shushed him lovingly until Rohan stopped
trying to twist away, saying, “Yer shaking. I'll warm ya up.”
 
Exasperated, Rohan sighed and let himself be held by the giant puppy of a
teenager who had aggressively inserted himself into Rohan’s life over the past
few weeks. It was clearly the only way to get the irritatingly helpful teenager
off of him. Josuke was lucky that Rohan was so patient and kind-- any other
horrible adult would have either abandoned or hurt the stupid child by now.
Feeling a sneeze coming on, Rohan turned to sneeze into his shoulder.
Comfortingly, Josuke started rubbing his hands up and down Rohan's shivering
arms to continue warming him up.
 
Josuke’s overbearing intentions were well-placed, as per usual. Grumbling,
Rohan allowed himself to maybe enjoy the tender touches-- just for a little
bit.
 
Fine, maybe for a few minutes more.
 
He sighed contentedly with his head tucked under Josuke's chin. Alright, that's
enough for now.
 
Awkwardly, Rohan reached up to pet Josuke on the head-- but then stopped, and
placed his free hand on Josuke’s tied back hair with a bright, inquisitive
look. He had seen Josuke with his hair up many times-- but usually it was
gathered up into a messy tree made of bangs at home. This time, Josuke had
pulled back all the top half of his head into a half-up ponytail. What was it
called-- a princess style updo? Suddenly, Rohan felt that he was seeing the
strong arches of Josuke's thick eyebrows and the lingering baby fat on his
cheeks clearly for the first time. Thoughtlessly, Rohan smoothed his palm
across the top of Josuke's head like a captivated cat. Seeing the interested
glint in Rohan’s stare, Josuke pulled out of the hug to curiously pat the top
of his own head as if expecting a leaf or something to tumble down at any
moment.
 
“Is there somethin' in my hair?”
 
The small half-up ponytail looked-- alluring. Rohan felt a pang in his chest,
and turned around to clutch angrily at his heart. Now wasn't the time, he
scolded himself inwardly.
 
“No. I was just thinking that I initially theorized that I liked seeing your
hair down because nobody else could see you like that, but it doesn’t feel any
less, impactful, even though you look like a mess in public right now.”
 
Grinning, Josuke tried to mask how pleased he felt by busying his hands. He
took down his small ponytail to tidy up his bangs that slipped out of the hair
tie from Rohan petting him. While looking back at the heart-shaped boats, he
confidently suggested, “I guess that means yer attracted to me.”
 
Rohan chewed his lip anxiously, before settling on a response: “Maybe.”
 
Josuke's crush was starting to become overwhelming again, thought Rohan as he
squeezed his fist tightly against his body. Wasn’t it embarrassing for the kid
to just wear his heart out on his sleeve like that? Perhaps Josuke was longing
for more after seeing Koichi and Yukako-- Morioh's Power Couple, apparently-
- be unapologetically lovey-dovey all day. What, did he expect Rohan to do the
same with him? There was no way in hell that he would ever coo over Josuke like
a fucking baby the way Yukako did with Koichi! If that's what Josuke was
expecting, then he would need to bring his business elsewhere. Suppressing a
shudder, Rohan remembered the way Yukako merrily fed Koichi on the picnic
benches in the rest area and then how both of them giggled when she dabbed the
corner of Koichi's mouth with her hand-embroidered handkerchief.
 
Hearing the reverberating echoes of a group of four young people hooting wildly
as their boat gradually bobbed into the cave, Rohan’s and Josuke’s attentions
were drawn back to people-watching. Glad for the distraction, Rohan strode
quickly over to his previous post on the black, iron fence and folded his arms
in front of him since he had neither a sketchbook nor a camera to busy his
hands with. The next group was a pair of old people. Boring. When was something
interesting going to finally happen? Irritably, Rohan wrung his hands on his
bare arms.
 
Mirroring his pose, Josuke settled onto the fence and aww’d at the elderly
couple. Without further comment, they watched their small boat also go into the
cave. The next boat was stalled-- it was difficult to tell from their vantage
point what was going on, exactly.
 
Out of the blue, Josuke asked, “Are you the possessive or jealous type when ya
date?”
 
Rohan nearly gagged again. Josuke's ballooning crush was so obvious to the
point that Rohan felt second-hand embarrassment around the smitten teen.
 
“I don’t know. I’ve never dated.”
 
“Oh.” There was a hint of surprise in the teen’s voice. He shifted in place,
possibly because he was nervous. In a way, Rohan could sympathize-- he
remembered how nervous he felt when meeting a manga idol and trying to think of
questions to ask his hero. Now Rohan himself was a big name in the manga
industry-- most likely bigger than his idol ever was-- and he pitied anyone
who’d understandably crack under his intimidating presence. What was he
supposed to do now when he was the big name star and Josuke was the bright-eyed
fan? Worriedly, Rohan pinched the bridge of his nose.
 
“Why are you asking?” murmured Rohan behind his hand. Somebody stood up in the
next, delayed boat that was finally crossing their line of sight. The small
boat rocked, but at no point did it show any signs of tipping over.
 
When Rohan had stood up in the boat that afternoon, the log boat had rocked
dangerously. Despite that, the carbon fiber log was clutched so tightly by the
ride’s mechanical track that the boat had barely rattled from him energetically
trying to clamber out of it. (Initially, he had thought he would be fine with
the drop-- it didn’t look that threatening when they saw it in line. However,
when the log slowly, loudly ascended via a chain mechanism through over the
course of what felt like several minutes, Rohan had felt his fight or flight
instincts kick in.)
 
Either way, he prayed that someone would fall out of a boat soon-- preferably
within his line of sight. With nothing productive to do with his hands and the
conversation heading into even more awkward territory, he felt trapped.
 
Josuke clenched and unclenched his hands that were anxiously wrapped tightly
around his biceps, hesitantly looking for the right words before saying, “I
don’t know, you look kind of pissed when you see Koichi and Yukako together-- I
thought you might be jealous of them or something.”
 
“Oh, I’m totally jealous-- but it’s not the kind of jealousy that you’re
hinting at, which sounds like the romantic kind of jealousy.” Wringing his
hands tightly around the iron fence, Rohan smiled bitterly.
 
“Are you interested in dating Koichi?” From the edge of his vision, he could
see Josuke tense up. The poor, lovestruck teen was so easy to read. If anyone
was interested and jealous, it was Josuke.
 
Eventually, he clarified, “No. It’s not like that.”
 
Ever meddlesome, Josuke kept pressing for more details. Why bother trying to
compete with Koichi, though? No matter what, nothing in the world would compare
to the relationship he had with his loyal best friend, thought Rohan. All
Josuke was going to do was hurt himself by trying to pry further. This time,
the naive teenager asked, “Then what is it, then? Explain it to me, please.”
Leaning over the iron bars, Josuke searched Rohan’s face for answers. Now this
Rohan could explain easily.
 
Without missing a beat, Rohan answered succinctly and confidently, “No matter
how badly I fuck up, Koichi-kun still treats me like a good person. He never,
ever, ever doubts that I’m still a good person. That’s what it’s like. That’s
why he’s important to me. And that's why I do get-- kind of jealous, I guess-
- when he's not paying attention to me.” There was emotion in his voice, sure-
- but he wasn’t shaken up from being moved to tears, or something ridiculous
like that. Instead, he thought, he felt assured of what he had with Koichi. It
made him feel strong.
 
For a few beats, Josuke pursed his lips as if he was thinking really hard. Then
he ducked his head and smiled, saying, “So ya admit that ya do fuck up? That
yer not a flawless, entitled-- oops, I meant enlightened-- pure being?”
 
Rohan scoffed, but there was no malice behind it. He could never stay in a bad
mood when thinking about Koichi. The mere thought of his warm, kind-hearted
best friend set him at ease.
 
They continued to stand side by side, leaning on the black fence. Josuke was
sated for now, it appeared. Relieved, Rohan allowed his mind to wander.
 
The next batch of riders became visible. The boat this time was extra worn-out
looking. It looked like it could be a nice setting for a murder, considered
Rohan. Critically, Rohan envisioned how he might depict such a storyline in
Pink Dark Boy: two people going into a lover’s tunnel boat ride, but only one
of them returns alive. It would be extra tragic if one of the people in the
couple was planning to propose on the ride, only to be killed. What should have
been a romantic, picturesque moment would then become a gruesome, horrific
tragedy. Decapitation would make for fantastic visual shock!
 
Rohan patted himself on the back, mentally.
 
“Josuke, take note since I don’t have anything to write on-- ‘Write a ‘who did
it’ mystery where the victim dies viciously in the dark while going through a
theme park attraction with a lover.’”
 
“Er, okay. Is that what yer thinking about right now? Manga?”
 
“Always,” said Rohan proudly.
 
Scuffing his feet into the dirt pathway, Josuke started apologizing again,
saying,“’m still sorry about the sketchbook, by the way-- I panicked when ya
tore off the page and Koichi almost saw those... graphic drawings you did of
me.”
 
In his mind’s eye, Rohan could still see the drawings. He was particularly fond
of the ones he did when his train was on its last half hour leg of its trip
back from Tokyo. The sketch was how he envisioned Josuke would look in the
school uniform, holding the front of the skirt up to reveal cute panties
underneath. They ended up not using the panties since they were playing around
with the butt plug, but maybe next time he could see his unfairly good-
looking assistant in lingerie again-- hopefully by then, Josuke would be
feeling less romantically-inclined so that they can go back to fooling around
in-between working. “They were very nice drawings. It’s a shame.”
 
“They were nice, but, Rohan, come on-- they were very inappropriate to have at
a theme park full of children. I promised that I’ll make up to you guys though,
and I will.” He felt Josuke’s hand cover his own on the metal fence. Rohan
looked down at their joined hands.
 
“Of course you will-- you better repay me somehow, after all. That was very
expensive paper,” said Rohan with finality as he pulled his hand away from the
teenager. There were many, many ways in which Josuke could make it up to him,
after all. Weighing his options, Rohan balanced if he wanted to save such an
offer for something larger later, or cash in the favor early for something more
instantly gratifying.
 
He felt their shoulders bump as Josuke squeezed against him. The eager teenager
was definitely pushing his luck again-- he had slid closer and closer to Rohan
as they talked,  and he had wrapped both of his tanned hands back around
Rohan's smaller, soft hands.
 
Sighing contentedly, Josuke laid his head down onto Rohan’s shoulder with a
small smile teasing at the corner of his lips. His breathing was steady-- and
he was putting a bit too much weight onto the smaller man as he relaxed against
him.
 
Unable to support the heavy body of the tall boy any longer, Rohan untangled
himself from the sleepy teen’s arms and straightened himself out. Besides, he
was overheating from Josuke’s furnace of a body. It didn’t look like it even
crossed Josuke’s mind that he couldn’t lean his entire weight onto someone
smaller than him though-- like a big dog unaware of its size trying to climb
onto its owner’s lap. The overgrown child pouted unhappily.
 
Yet again, it was time for Rohan to tiredly step in as the responsible adult-
- to take the higher ground, as adults were expected to do. Before Josuke could
grab him again, Rohan instead stepped into his space and raked his hands
through Josuke's pushed-back hair to get his attention-- undoing much of the
careful grooming Josuke had redone. Even more lost than before, Josuke squinted
at him even as he was being pet.
 
“Listen-- even though you don’t think so, I’m actually known for having good
manners. So, I wanted to thank you too,” the proud man finally said. Start off
easy and nice-- that usually worked, right?
 
Josuke carefully asked, “Thank you fer what?”
 
Rohan withdrew his hands and stuffed them into his pockets, walking away from
the love tunnels. Speaking over his shoulder, he explained, “Same reason as
Koichi-kun-- for setting this up. If it weren’t for you, I would have never
been able to go to a theme park with him. Believe me, I’ve tried.”
 
Keeping pace behind him, Josuke digested what Rohan was saying. Irritably, the
stupidly nice teenager dove right back into apologizing again. “Oh. Sorry that
it’s not like yer actually out with him, either-- it’s more like a group
activity.”
 
He stopped short of an ice cream cart-- bless the cart for also selling hot
coffee in addition to cold treats. Pausing to read the menu, the conversation
was suspended until Rohan made a decision on what he wanted to drink. “That’s
fine. That Koichi-kun and I are even here at the same time is good enough for
me. Did you want anything from this food cart?”
 
“Listen, Rohan--” started Josuke, large hand easily encircling Rohan’s thin
wrist.
 
Ah, here it comes-- thought Rohan tiredly. He had really hoped that it wouldn’t
get to this point-- that as long as they didn't fully acknowledge Josuke's
crush that Josuke would be satisfied with the convenient and mutually
beneficial personal/professional relationship they had started up. Or, at the
very least, that he could turn him down before Josuke confessed, which he was
clearly trying to do. Sadly, that was not the case anymore.
 
“I like you,” admitted Josuke, purple eyes fixed on Rohan’s unchanging
expression. He could feel the tremor from Josuke’s body channel through his
clammy hand wrapped around his wrist.
 
How many times has Rohan been confessed to at this point?
 
Deadpan, he responded, “I know. I’m flattered. So did you want anything from
the food cart?”
 
 
 
Floored, Josuke staggered backwards away from the apathetic man, his face a mix
of pain and shock.
 
“That’s it?What do I wanna eat right now? Rohan, I just confessed my feelings
for you!”
 
“Yes, you did. What’s the problem?”
 
“Jesus fuck-- how much of an asshole can ya freakin' be?”
 
“Josuke, please try to see it from my point of view.” Drained, Rohan pressed a
hand to his forehead before continuing. “I get countless love letters every
month. Whenever I have to meet my readers, they throw themselves at me. I’ve
been cornered and had to endure dozens of awkward love confessions from fans
who claim they love me, even though they don’t even know me--”
 
“But I doknow you! I’m not some random fan who just-- who just likes the idea
of you, or whatever! I’m--” choking back an angry noise, Josuke retreated away
from the food cart-- where the attendant had been politely avoiding
acknowledging what was happening within three feet of them-- and stomped to the
nearby picnic tables.
 
Wearily, Rohan paid for a coffee-- no cream, no sugar, please-- and then joined
Josuke at a table. The emotional teenager shuddered angrily with his arms
wrapped around his head.
 
Muttering into his sleeves, Josuke growled, “Maybe yer right. Maybe I don’t
know you, because clearly-- stupidly-- I thought… fuck, I don’t even know what
I thought anymore. God. Do ya really think of me on the same level as yer fans?
People who are basically strangers to you?”
 
Rohan settled down into the chair primly and crossed his legs. He set the cup
of fresh coffee on the table, unsure of what to say. “Well, not quite,” he
admitted. Rohan made a point to keeps fans at a distance-- even when he met
Koichi and Hazamada for the first time, he had only been so friendly to them so
that he could steal pages from their lives with Heaven's Door. If it weren't
for that, his typical interaction with fans would be to nod, thank them for
their support, and then to maybe sign something for them. What he had with
Josuke-- what Josuke was to him-- was different than that, he supposed.
 
“If that’s the case, then don’t treat me like one of your fans! Please, Rohan,
I’m telling ya that I have feelings for you. Don’t just shrug it off as just
another empty burst of passion from someone who doesn’t know you at all. At
least think about it properly! Can you, at the very minimum, do that for me,
please?” pleaded Josuke angrily as he sat up to look imploringly into Rohan's
eyes, voice straining heatedly as his body quaked with emotion.
 
Idly, Rohan rotated the hot cup in his hands. If he was in Tokyo and the
overenthusiastic fan was too handsy, he would usually call his editor to come
get him. However, he was thankful that Josuke was more of the Crestfallen and
Sad variety when it came to being rejected by Rohan. That was easier to handle,
since he had done it many times before.
 
However, if Josuke was not just an entranced child who followed Rohan around
for his stardom, that would make him less easy to handle. In fact, the older
man was hardly equipped-- mentally, and emotionally-- to deal with this new
kind of situation: someone genuinely liking him,romantically, and not just as a
celebrity figure. Frankly, he was at a loss again. Shifting uncomfortably with
the cup against his lips, Rohan evaluated the kind of attraction that Josuke
was saying he had for him. Perhaps if he dissected what Josuke was saying, he
could make heads or tails of it.
 
Josuke was what, in his eyes?
 
Was Josuke an overgrown kid, looking for someone older and stable to take care
of him?
 
No. Admittedly, that was an oversimplification. Perhaps Rohan may had been more
prone to thinking about Josuke like that when they first started seeing each
other-- hell, there were practically dollar signs in his eyes when he and Rohan
had discussed payment terms for his services. However, the teenager had been
helping take care of both his house and him while refusing to write down hours
when doing so. As much as he hated to admit it, maybe Josuke wasn’t such a
money-grubbing, greedy, scheming brat after all.
 
Was Josuke then maybe a lost puppy, looking for an owner to love?
 
No. While he had unlimited respect for both Jotaro and Mr. Joestar, Rohan did
see-- no, more like he studied-- the way Josuke had stared at the backs of the
two older men in his newfound family. There was a longing look to the way
Josuke followed the two older Joestars around-- a loneliness so powerful that
Rohan had immediately relished the pain that flickered across Josuke’s face,
intending to recreate the raw sadness in his manga. This was before, though-
- before Mr. Joestar returned home to his wife. Since then, however, Josuke had
neither mentioned Jotaro or Mr. Joestar on his own.  Alarmingly rational, they
even had a quiet, late night conversation prompted by Rohan about how Josuke
was thankful for Jotaro and Mr. Joestar coming into his life-- but that he and
his mom had gotten by long enough without them, and thus he did not expect to
be too hurt when they inevitably went back to their pre-Josuke lives. Rohan had
muttered absentmindedly as he worked on his manga that Josuke was saying
something surprisingly mature for his age. The teen had chuckled softly,
expression ambiguous.
 
Staring at him determinedly with watery, furrowed eyes, was a young man who was
trying to establish an equal companionship with Rohan. His jaw was set tightly
with determination as he implored the manga artist to see him for what he was-
- someone who liked him, and wanted to be with Rohan-- and to not be cast aside
so easily by whatever misgivings Rohan may had had about him.
 
He felt that painfully annoying and indecipherable throb in his chest again.
What was that?
 
To the point, Josuke sullenly asked, “So you don’t like me at all, Rohan? Not
even a little bit?”
 
Was the pain in his heart affection for Josuke Higashikata, the biggest pain in
the ass he's ever met? 
 
Confusedly, Rohan slumped into his chair and pressed his hands against his
face. “...To be honest, I’m not sure.”
 
Fed up, Josuke repeated, “Yer not sure?”
 
Rohan shakily stuck out a hand-- beckoning Josuke to please let him take a
moment to try to gather his thoughts-- and then took a tentative sip of his
coffee. It was bitter, as expected. Readjusting his crossed legs, he tried to
explain the incomprehensible mess that was twisting him up inside. “Listen, I'm
being honest here. I’ve already told you that I’ve never dated before, and
you’ve seen how I live my life. I... don't think I know what it means to like
you-- or anyone-- in that way.” His voice trailed off quietly near the end, and
Rohan worried his lower lip embarassedly.
 
The irritation in Josuke’s face started to fade as it was replaced by what
Rohan could only describe as muted astonishment.
 
“If that is the case, do ya think there’s-- something? Anything?” Expectantly,
Josuke reached across the table. His fingers twitched hesitantly, before he
overlapped his hands over Rohan's hands that were now shakily holding the
coffee cup.
 
“I-I… I don’t know-- at least right now, I really don’t know. But I don’t think
that I feel, uh, nothing. I do enjoy having you around, even if you’re
insufferable most of the time,” Rohan’s voice faltered again, and he felt his
hair stand up on the back of his neck from the way Josuke’s index finger gently
stroked his own, comfortingly. The coffee was hot, but Josuke’s body-- where
their skin touched, no matter how slight-- felt even hotter.
 
Breathing out a long sigh of relief, Josuke guided Rohan’s hand to put the cup
back onto the table.
 
“What are you so satisfied about?” spat the shaken man, unable to make sense of
what was happening anymore in his life.
 
“I’m just glad that it turns out that yer so emotionally constipated that I
might have a chance, still,” teased Josuke as the tense atmosphere eased up.
Falling back into his chair, Josuke laughed lightly to himself as he used the
sleeve of his windbreaker to dab away the angry tears that had dotted his eyes.
 
“Hey!” He had been spending the majority of his life working hard at perfecting
his art-- Rohan had to make some sacrifices to get to be the amazing, great
manga artist he was now. He bristled and sputtered wordlessly, too overwhelmed
to form coherent thoughts.
 
“Ahh, 'm joking, sorry!" apologized Josuke with a flurry of limbs until Rohan
snorted and turned away, face red.
 
"Will ya let me continue doing what we’ve already been doing then, until ya
know fer sure?” proposed Josuke, eyes hopeful as he held his hands together in
front of face. “I mean, that is if yer okay with it.”
 
“No, I need you,” said the manga artist urgently, but in light of Josuke’s
confession, he clarified, “I mean, yes, I-I need you to be my assistant at the
very least, still. You know, for my--”
 
“Fer yer manga. Yeah, I know.”
 
He really did know him pretty well then, noted Rohan. 
 
Josuke smiled goofily at him, thrumming with happiness. It was sickenly cute.
 
“At the very least too then, can I take ya out on a date?” the words came
tumbling out of Josuke’s mouth-- he was blushing red to the tip of his ears.
 
“Isn’t this a date?” Rohan couldn’t help-- and he hated himself for it-- feel a
smile grow on his face as he watched Josuke fidgeting in front of him. He
pulled Josuke’s hand into his and held their linked hands up together. “The
handholding, remember?”
 
“That was more like a joke, and you know it!” asserted the now nervous teen,
who was clearly anxious for Rohan’s response. Relaxing further, the older man
released their hands and drank his coffee leisurely, humming as he considered
the invitation.
 
“No, you can’t take me on a date.”
 
“What?!”
 
“I’ll take you on a date. I can’t guarantee that it’ll be any good, since I’ve
never taken anyone on a romantic date before-- but I’d like to experience it
myself.”
 
Disarmed by the reversal, Josuke stopped sulking sullenly and gawked instead.
He nodded quickly, small ponytail flopping, unable to say anything as he
vibrated with joy. Wordlessly, Josuke scooted his chair from the other side of
the table to push himself bodily against Rohan again, pleased. It was
mannerisms like this that reaffirmed to Rohan that Josuke was just a big dog.
Impulsively, he slipped his hand to the back of Josuke’s neck underneath the
collar of his zipped up windbreaker, enjoying the way Josuke shivered before he
leaned into the touch.
 
Slowly, he let his fingers caress Josuke’s thick neck-- studying the satisfied
sigh that he felt Josuke breathe against him. His fingers slipped lower,
tracing the curious star-shaped birthmark that was usually covered by Josuke’s
shirt collar.
 
Right, he wasn’t wearing anything under the jacket.
 
Rohan swallowed thickly.
 
“Josuke, did you want to go find your friends next, or go on more rides? It’s
still three more hours till the fireworks.”
 
“Huh? Naw, they’re all off doing things in pairs-- I’d rather leave them be.
Anyway, I don’t really care for the rides. I only wanted to come to the theme
park since I knew everyone else would go if I said I had free tickets to it.
I’ve had my share of thrills this past year already, almost dying every week
and all,” joked Josuke morbidly. Rohan snorted but smiled, fingers idly drawing
vague shapes on the back of Josuke’s neck.
 
Uncharacteristically shy, Josuke’s eyes darted around briefly, before he
continued softly, “Not to be sappy, but I’m just-- so happy, right now, that ya
didn’t say no. I’d rather just stay here with you, if that’s okay.”
 
Rohan swallowed again, fighting the blush that was creeping back into his face.
 
“When you said that we can continue doing what we’ve been doing…” started the
older man, withdrawing his hand from Josuke’s bare skin to cover his mouth,
unable to fight the dark red stain on his cheeks, before asking, “Did you
really mean that?”
 
“Yeah,” Josuke said slowly-- the mischievous glint in his eyes again. Josuke
firmly squeezed Rohan’s thigh. The muscle jumped underneath his hand, and
Josuke’s lopsided smile widened.
 
“Do you want to make out?” coughed Rohan.
 
“Oh hell yeah.”
***** Chapter 19 *****
Chapter Notes
     Edit: 7/30, and it's heeeeere. I also rewrote large portions of
     chapter 18, so if you would kindly reread it, I would super
     appreciate it! Can you believe that I've been writing Working
     Arrangement for six months now? I can't-- but I guess ~20 chapters in
     six months hopefully isn't too bad of a pace. Thank you all for
     hanging out with me. My birthday is in a week, but I'm going to try
     to crank out more chapters. (I know I always say that, but I do mean
     it...)
     End edit!
     Sorry guys, but this isn't a full chapter update! It's a peak at the
     upcoming chapter. I wanted to post to let you guys know that I'll be
     at Anime Expo in the Artist Alley at table i19/20. If you come by and
     tell me that you're a fan of Working Arrangement, I will give you a
     gift! So please do stop by. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this
     peak at the upcoming chapter.
"Oof! Yer elbow is in my ribs!" coughed Josuke as the sharp angle of Rohan's
thin arm twisted into his body again. Wincing, the impatient manga artist tried
to worm into a better position on the sticky leather car seats.
 
"Yeah well your knee is in my-- ow!"
 
Josuke turned pale and babbled apologetically, "Shit, sorry! Um, stop, stop,
just flip over--"
 
They were quickly losing the mood they had, but that wasn’t important right
now-- what was most important was not killing each other in Rohan’s tiny car.
 
"I'm trying, but I can barely move because you're taking up so much space!"
wheezed Rohan, crushed by the heavy weight of Josuke's sweaty body suddenly
falling onto him. The teen's wet hand (“Fuck!”) had slipped on the passenger
side chair he was bracing himself with when he had tried to arch away from his
partner's flailing limbs.
 
In the muggy backseat of Rohan's luxury coupe, the inexperienced couple fought
to find a comfortable way to fit in the limited space available-- resulting in
many bodily collisions. Only Rohan's backwindows were tinted, and after their
kissing became heated (the cue was when Rohan’s now Famous Wandering Hands
boldly grabbed Josuke’s firm ass and gave a very tight squeeze), Josuke had
asked Rohan if they could please move to the safety of the more private
backseat.
 
Sadly, the backseat looked bigger than it was though-- especially now that it
was broad and muscular Josuke trying to fit back there with slim yet tall Rohan
at the same time. Unlike earlier, when the backseat only held Koichi (who was
short) and Yukako (who was thin), the new couple struggled with not only
getting into the backseat-- but also in getting out once they realized their
mistake.
 
Josuke gathered Rohan in his arms and roughly rolled them over-- wincing from
the friction of his damp skin skidding squeakily against the fine Italian
leather seats. The smaller man fit flush against his body-- chest to chest-
- in-between Josuke's spread and bent legs. One of Josuke's socked feet was
pressed firmly against the inside of the window, and-- having nowhere else for
his other foot-- his other leg squeezed up towards his chest, toes almost
brushing the hood of Rohan's car.
 
"There, better?" sighed the lanky teenager, a total mess with his wet bangs
stuck across his face. He wasn’t comfortable, but at least they finally fit in
the humid, cramped backseat. The front door windows were cracked open by only a
sliver-- Josuke would rather swelter than chance any noises escaping the car.
The violent rocking of them struggling in the backseat had hopefully gone
unnoticed by any park patrons that may had been in the parking lot.
 
Rohan's head followed his eyes as he assessed their new position-- well, at
least they were face to face again. His own legs were folded neatly together-
- half up on the seat, and half down on the floor of the car. A drop of sweat
rolled down his chin, and dripped onto Josuke's upper chest beneath him. The
teen’s broad chest rose up and down steadily as he panted, and Rohan felt their
sternums bump on larger exhales.
 
Ducking his head down, Rohan's tongue curiously lapped up the sweat as he
dragged his hands up Josuke's slippery abs. He twisted his long fingers into
Josuke’s crumpled windbreaker as he pushed the garment out of his way-- he had
been waiting too long, and it was starting to offend him. Rohan breathed deeply
as he explored, and delighted when Josuke sputtered in surprise beneath him
from Rohan nipping the thin skin stretched across his collarbone.
 
"Do ya really gotta put yer tongue on everything?" huffed Josuke, heady and
embarrassed from the meticulous yet rushed way Rohan took catalogue of each dip
and rise of Josuke’s tanned body. He could see the wordless movement of Rohan’s
lips as the always working manga artist mouthed mental notes to himself.
Everything was always research, somehow.
 
Dully, he realized regrettably that he was growing faint-- whether it was from
the pervasive heat of the shut car baking in the summer sun or from the arousal
curling in his lower belly, Josuke wasn't sure. Maybe keeping the windows
cracked just a bit was a bad idea-- but they both hadn’t realized how
constricting the backseat was going to be! The trapped body heat surrounded
them, and the already-naturally-warm teenager felt like he may suffocate.
 
Succumbing to the rising temperature for a second time that day definitely
wasn’t on his to-do list.
 
Josuke yipped from the sudden scraping of Rohan's teeth against the flushed
skin on his neck. Hot-- too hot, his mind was a mess. What to do? He exhaled
shakily as he impatiently unzipped and shucked off his windbreaker within the
confines of the space they were working with. The relief would be minimal, but
in his arousal-addled mind he was willing to try anything if it meant getting
off.
 
The tall teenager’s elbows bumped and rubbed against the interior of the car
while he shimmied the jacket off of his tanned arms. When he finally peeled off
the sweat-soaked fabric, it dropped heavily to the floor of the car as Rohan
hungrily descended upon Josuke again-- this time, putting his exploring mouth
around Josuke's supple nipple. The younger man stifled a yelp from the feeling
of Rohan’s teeth around the flesh.
 
"You know, Josuke," slurped Rohan as he tasted the sweat off of Josuke's chest,
"Upon closer inspection, your nipples are quite soft, aren't they?" He
flattened his tongue on top of the silky areola, and dragged his wet tongue
roughly across the now sensitive nub. He peered up through his green bangs,
eyes mirthful with sadistic glee as he applied more pressure with his teeth.
 
Kicking his legs in place unsteadily, Josuke writhed in the seat from the
sharp, nerve-tingling sensation of Rohan getting his payback for the torture
Josuke had released on Rohan’s nipples last time.
 
“Hnnagh...” was all the answer Rohan was going to get-- there was no longer any
coherency left in Josuke’s overheated brain.
 
Too much, too much!
 
The sounds of Rohan roughly sucking and gnawing on Josuke’s chest made the
teenager’s ears burn, and his hands spasmed uselessly on the car seats. Hot,
hot, hot.
 
His vision darkened, and panic shot through his body.
 
Hissing, the teen was unable to take anymore. He felt the tears dotting his
eyes from the overstimulation, and he reactively pushed Rohan’s dangerous mouth
away from his sore nipples. Rohan was laughing-- his voice muffled by Josuke’s
fingers layered over his face-- and sat back onto his haunches. The small car’s
roof was too low for him to sit up straight, so he slinked forward and settled
his hands on Josuke’s waistband without waiting for his addled assistant to
catch his breath.
 
His beautiful, thin hands were so, so close to touching Josuke’s pronounced
bulge. The soft, stretchy fabric of the joggers did little to hide Josuke’s
erection. Excitedly, Rohan let his hands stroke down until they were loosely
gathered around Josuke’s straining arousal-- index fingers and thumbs gently
touching their counterparts on the opposite hand to form a diamond shape.
 
“Rohan,” gasped Josuke thickly, mouth sticky and dry.
 
“Yes?” answered Rohan-- he was distracted. Green eyes were transfixed to
Josuke’s thick member hidden by only two layers of fabric. The sweat dripped
off of his defined cheekbones-- his breathing was definitely more shallow and
rapid than usual, but his arousal did not have the desperate quality that
Josuke had.
 
The older man licked his lips-- he wanted to stuff Josuke’s dripping cock into
his mouth.
 
“I don’t think we can-- yanno, do stuff... right now. I mean, I wanna, but--”
gulped the sweating teen as his hips shifted uncomfortably-- he was so turned
on, riding off of the adrenaline of their earlier talk and the prospects of
possibly dating Rohan Kishibe-- “But it’s too hot, I c-can’t focus,” he
explained weakly, with a hint of bitterness.
 
Disappointed, Rohan made a pathetic whining noise before he firmly wrapped
Josuke around the base and squeezed, attempting to entice the dizzy teenager.
Grunting, Josuke shook his head left and right slowly to signal that it was
still a no-go. It felt good-- the oppressive heat didn’t numb his sensations-
- but the pleasant feeling of Rohan’s graceful hands stroking him was quickly
swept away in his mind as his attention shifted immediately back to his body
screaming for relief from the hot weather.
 
“We have water in the front seat,” offered the manga artist-- who made a move
to sit up and try to retrieve it. He was stopped by Josuke’s sticky hand on his
wrist.
 
“Thanks, but it’s not just thirst-- it’s so fucking hot back here. Maybe we can
fool around later?”
 
“How about tonight? I can pick you up after I drop Koichi-kun and Yukako off
and you can stay over with me,” offered Rohan--words tumbling out a little too
quickly-- with a hopeful look.
 
Sighing, Josuke ran a hand through his wet hair-- he almost felt bad for his
overeager partner, but his surge of excitement from earlier was fading from the
heat exhaustion. After they had gotten back to the car earlier, Josuke had
leaned forward and laced their hands together to meet Rohan for a kiss. He had
smiled against Rohan’s lips, feeling the awkwardness from their talk melt away
when the smaller man relaxed into Josuke’s embrace. The sweet kisses soon had
deepened however, and Josuke had to remind himself to look out for both of
their reputations by ensuring that they weren’t making out too heavily in the
late afternoon sun in the parking lot of a family-friendly establishment.
 
The smaller man, still seated in-between Josuke’s legs, cleared his throat
impatiently, imploring Josuke for a reply with expectant eyes.
 
Crestfallen, Josuke slowly shook his head. “Sorry, probably not tonight either.
I’ve been staying out a lot recently, so I think it’s gonna be a few days again
until I can stay the night again.”
 
Defeated, Rohan tossed his head back as he groaned angrily, then collapsed with
a slap onto Josuke’s wet chest. The young stand user wanted to get back to the
front seat and roll the windows down right away, but he could allow Rohan to
mope a bit first.
 
It was silent for a moment, though Josuke’s murky mind kept trying to find ways
to excuse himself from home so that he could spend the evening with Rohan.
 
Murmuring into the dip between Josuke’s pecs, he complained, “I hate that your
breasts are so nice.”
 
“What?”
 
“I’ve been stuck on the thought of these all day,” dazedly bemoaned Rohan as he
cupped Josuke’s shapely breasts. “Ever since you said that you weren’t wearing
anything underneath your jacket, I’ve been wanting to touch your chest.” Josuke
shivered from Rohan’s moist breath blowing onto his heated skin. Rohan then
nuzzled his face back into Josuke’s cleavage, exhaling sadly.
 
“Pfft,” snorted Josuke, as he plucked some of Rohan’s piece-y hair with his
fingers. The manga artist didn’t respond, despondent. It was kind of cute
seeing him nestled tightly into Josuke’s chest with his hand on each pec,
mourning the loss of getting to play with Josuke’s breast for the day.
 
He petted the older man’s head gently. “C'mon, ya old perv. We need to de-
tangle ourselves before we can move up to the front seats.”
 
---
 
Red, blue, green, and yellow explosions of light crackled and blitzed across
the sky. Illuminated by the next wave of fireworks, thick plumes of white smoke
lit up with multiple colors. A sequence of shapes formed one after another in
time with the dramatic crescendos of an exuberant orchestra.
As display after display of fireworks dazzled the park guests, the music
climbed in both drama and volume—until finally, a roaring finale was reached.
Like a curtain of cascading stars, streaks of light glittered in front of a
backdrop of countless smaller explosions. The ashy scent from firework dust
filled the warm, summer evening air.
Rohan held a hand over his nose, disdainfully.
“Seriously? Ya can barely smell it from here,” chuckled Josuke as the prissy
older man shifted the relaxed teen’s legs off of his lap to dig for his keys
around the driver's seat. They had opened up the windows all the way to freshen
up the inside of Rohan’s designer vehicle. The already insufferable summer air
inside the car had been moist and sticky from when they were fooling around in
the late afternoon. Since their botched attempt to have sex in the backseat,
they had been sitting and chatting idly for hours.
“I don’t care—I don’t want the dust to get on my leather seats, or in my
lungs.”
Well, Josuke could concede to that point—they did just finish wiping down the
evidence of their reckless behavior with wet wipes that Rohan kept in his glove
compartment. Rohan turned on his car briefly to roll the windows back up, then
shut the engine off again. Flipping down the sun visor’s mirror, Rohan smoothed
any loose hair back under his headband carefully. Josuke did the same with his
personalized small comb.
They groomed in silence until they looked as fresh—which admittedly wasn’t that
fresh considering how drenched and sweaty they were from the theme park’s
excursions prior to ducking into Rohan’s car for some privacy—as they could.
Finishing first, the tidy-looking older man flicked his thin wrist over to
glance at a gold watch with a small, shiny face.
“Shit.”
“What?” murmured Josuke as he fussed on getting his hair just right, before
continuing, “We’re supposed to meet everyone at the front after the fireworks,
right? We should still have a few minutes—the crowds are super packed.”
“Not that—I think our readmission stamp got smeared off,” grumbled Rohan as he
flipped the back of his left hand up towards the light. Josuke tucked away his
comb—his hair was probably as good as it was going to get with the limited
tools he had—and squinted. Barely perceptible, the faint readmission stamp
looked to have been wiped clean. The red ink was a blurry, light stain on the
back of Rohan’s pale skin. It was almost impossible to make out the date of
admission.
“Hmm, I think I can ‘fix’ that.”
“This counts as fixing? Wow, Crazy Diamond is fucking bullshit.”
“More like fucking amazing.”
Josuke took Rohan’s hand into his own and winked before kissing the back of the
artist’s hand—pink and blue sparkles lit up around the smeared stamp where his
lips had touched Rohan’s skin. The stamp then restored itself to what Josuke
best remembered it looked like. Blushing irately, Rohan shook his hand out of
Josuke’s to hide his embarrassment, then examined the mark.
“I don’t think that’s correct. Also, it’s still pretty light.”
Pulling his small bag back on, Josuke shrugged. “The inkblock they used was
already pretty dried when they got to us—just give it a few rubs. I think as
long as they can see the date of admission and the general shape of the stamp,
we should be golden.” The teen passed his own hand under his right palm—like
magic, an identical stamp to Rohan’s was now on the back of his own hand.
“This is why I always say you're sneaky,” mumbled Rohan warily as he got out of
his car.
“It’s not that sneaky. You really think the park staff are gonna care that much
about people hoppin' back in an hour before closing?” Cautiously, Josuke popped
open the heavy door of Rohan’s car and eased his way out a sliver. The people
next to Rohan had parked way too close. After he shimmied out between the two
cars, he ran a tongue over his vaguely copied hand stamp and gave it a few
strategic rubs.
Rohan poured some water from a bottle onto his own hand and gave a few shakes.
Wordlessly, they stuck out their artificially smeared fake hand stamps to each
other to compare their counterfeit work.
“I could probably draw it from memory so that it’s more convincing.”
“It’s fine, Rohan. I don’t even know if we have time to even use the hand
stamps to get in the park to meet everyone on the inside,” sighed Josuke before
starting a brisk pace through the parking lot towards the theme park’s
entrance. He continued, “If yer that worried, let’s just stand right outside of
the front gate and tell the gang we moved out with the flow of the crowd.”
In the distance, Rohan could see the streams of people pouring out of the park
now that the summer-exclusive fireworks show was over. “Sneaky, again. Aren’t
you supposed to be a bad liar?”
“Sort of, but I think I mostly don't like lying, so I think it shows when I do
lie. What? Wouldja rather me tell 'em that we left the park hours ago to do
god-knows-what in the same backseat that Koichi and Yukako are gonna sit in,
later? Do ya really think Koichi wants to know that?”
Stopping in his tracks, Rohan visibly struggled with how to respond to that
question. The departing groups of families parted around the couple standing on
the dark pavement, like river water coursing around rocks in a stream. Rolling
his eyes, Josuke gently held Rohan’s hand and encouraged him to push forward to
the front of the park.
---
Yuya’s nose wrinkled when his group—the last of the teenagers—made it to the
front of the park gates where Koichi was waving through the bars from outside
the main entrance. His piercing eyes fixed on Josuke, who nodded firmly at him,
as the rest of the teenagers pushed past the metal bars to exit.
The motorcyclist with the remarkably sharp nose made a beeline to Josuke,
ignoring the way Rohan clearly bristled at him when Yuya closed into Josuke’s
personal space.
He grabbed Josuke’s broad shoulder and leaned into him for the second time that
day, noting flatly, “You smell like sex.”
Josuke winced and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, saying, “Yeah, I
figured you’d say that.”
After a brief pause, Yuya added, “And you smell like Rohan.” The manga artist
in question was blatantly staring at the two teenagers huddled together. Thank
the heavens that the rest of his friends were too exhausted to notice, thought
Josuke. They were checking the bus schedule while recounting some of their
day’s highlights to each other tiredly.
Shifting from leg to leg, Josuke couldn’t think of anything else to say to Yuya
other than: “Yeah.”
Yuya’s eyes found Josuke’s briefly, before he gave Josuke a few friendly kicks
to the back of his knees and walked away. Josuke saw a flash of Yuya’s pearly
white fangs as the motorcyclist mouthed teasingly over his shoulder, “s-u-g-a-
r-d-a-d-d-y.”
Rohan stood up then and pressed into Josuke’s side, glowering. “What did that
asshole want?”
“He said that you and I smell like each other, and that we smell like sex...
Annnd he also said yer my sugar daddy.”
“What a creep,” spat Rohan distastefully.
“Yer literally the biggest creep around, Rohan. Anyway, technically he’s not
wrong—“
About the first two points, Josuke had meant to say, but Rohan had already
sulked off. It was time for him to chauffeur Koichi and his Plus One home.
---
It was almost 11PM by the time Josuke stumbled through the backdoor into his
house. After they had made sure that Mikitaka got home, Josuke had stopped by
Okuyasu’s house to greet his friend’s dad and cautiously pet their cat plant.
Now home, he peeled off his coat and almost hung it up before remembering that
he would have to launder the windbreaker or else the stink of chlorine and
sweat might seep into it permanently.
From the living room, he could hear the severe tone of a news expose being
rerun on the TV.
“I’m home,” he drawled out as he plodded towards the living room. Josuke’s mom,
Tomoko, was sitting in her silk pajamas with a face mask on and a phone cradled
between her cheek and shoulder. She had her hands dipped into a bowl on the
side table.
“Oh—hold on—welcome home, Josuke! Did you have fun at the theme park?” greeted
his young mother, distracted as she balanced the phone on her shoulder, then
searched for the remote control with her eyes.
“Yeah, it was great—here, I got it,” Josuke retrieved the remote control and
lowered the volume on the TV, “Ya don’t gotta stop yer manicure of anything, 'm
going to bed soon.” His mom smiled her thanks at him.
“I was just telling my friends that even though you can be a hot-blooded idiot
at times, you can also be such a thoughtful son—I’m going to wear the bracelet
to the next teacher’s meeting.” In its opened box was the sparkling bracelet,
right by the phone’s holder. Before Josuke could respond, Tomoko’s smile
vanished as she sat up and told him to turn the volume back up.
Doing as he was told, Josuke stuffed his hands into his pockets and sat back in
a plush chair to curiously watch the news story with his mom. Usually, he would
join her in their at-home manicures, but he was too tired at the moment to stay
up much longer.
The report was about a recent social epidemic amongst teenagers: compensated
dating. Tomoko gasped severely, talking to the other teachers from his school
over their conference call about how compensated dating was something they were
going to have to be on the look-out for when the school session starts up
again.
Sleepily, Josuke dozed in his chair.
 
 
Seconds later, he woke up with a start when Tomoko yelled at the TV, “Those
dirty, rotten old men! Taking advantage of young kids like that! Josuke, did
you hear that report? They said that prostitution is now the most common job
that kids your age are taking-- the teens don’t get it, but compensated dating
is a type of prostitution.”
“Huh? Sorry, mom. Wasn’t really payin' attention,” admitted Josuke guiltily as
he hoisted himself out of the comfortable chair. Time to take a quick shower,
soak his clothes in detergent, and go to bed.
“Well you should-- have you heard your friends talk about doing it? I think it
hasn’t quite reached our quiet suburbia yet, but you should speak up if your
classmates are considering it.” His spirited mother abandoned her manicure to
snatch the remote and angrily shut the TV off, unwilling to listen to the men
who paid teenagers to spend time with them explain why they did it.
“I haven’t heard about it at school yet-- but I’ve been on break, so,” absently
explained Josuke with a delayed shrug, before adding, “But if I hear 'bout it,
I’ll definitely try to talk to 'em 'bout it, mom.” Tomoko repeated that
information to her coworkers (“Did you hear that? My son hasn’t heard about it
at school yet-- but then again, I don’t think he has that many friends, so we
still have to be diligent and keep our eyes and ears opened in case any of our
students are considering doing it!”) and nodded fervently at her son, fire in
her eyes.
 
---
 
Josuke couldn’t decide if he should be mortified or charmed at Rohan’s tendency
to do things in extremes.
 
Their first date wasn’t quite the movie-dinner-stroll-by-the-beach kind of deal
that he had been anticipating. In fact, their first date was turning out to be
quite the affair, but at least he was going to get a really nice suit out of
it. He was relieved that Rohan had let him choose the style-- god knows what
kind of abomination the artist would have chosen. As expected, the ordered suit
arrived within days-- what that would have cost to not only rush produce but
also ship to their quiet town near the country-side, he could only imagine-
- and was getting its final touch-ups by their (their?) usual tailor.
 
He was to pick it up tomorrow afternoon, the night before he and Rohan were to
board a train to Rohan’s least favorite destination: Tokyo.
 
Josuke was going to Tokyo.
 
The bells on the tailor shop door jingled cheerily as Josuke shut the door
behind himself.
 
Shoving his hands into his shorts’ pockets, Josuke reminded himself that he
needed to do something nice for Koichi soon. Now that his small friend was in
cahoots with him and Rohan about their ordeal of a relationship, Rohan had
tangled Koichi up into an elaborate plan regarding their first date. When
Josuke had worriedly stopped by Koichi’s work to ask to him about it, his
frazzled classmate did a thumbs up and weakly said, “It’s all taken care of-
- good luck, Josuke.”
 
That wasn’t exactly an encouraging response, but what was done was done.
 
The air conditioning of the grocery store blasted him as soon as he stepped in,
and he picked up a basket. Since they were both going on vacation-- somehow,
both of them, alone, a vacation, what the fuck-- they didn’t need many
groceries today. At home, Rohan was bent over the table roughly drawing the
drafts for the next three issues feverishly. The anxiety of going back to Tokyo
so shortly after his recent trip had spurred him back into throwing himself
into work.
 
Right, he was supposed to stop by the pharmacy before he got home to pick up
extra strength painkillers and migraine medicine too.
 
Browsing the aisles of misted vegetables, Josuke distractedly mulled around.
 
On one hand--
 
“Don’t you hate Tokyo?” Josuke had asked after nearly toppling off a step stool
that he was crouching on top of with an umbrella over his head. Rohan had been
laying on the floor beneath him, sketchboard held up above himself with some
sort of homemade contraption as he detailed each spine of the umbrella. It had
been business as usual when he had announced to Josuke flippantly mere moments
ago: “By the way, we’re staying the weekend in Tokyo for our date. Everything’s
been set-up already.”
 
Expression darkening immediately, Rohan had hissed through gritted teeth, “Yes-
- I do. However, I think if you’re there, maybe I won’t spontaneously combust.
I thought you’d be more excited-- don’t country kids like you dream of going to
the big city?”
 
“Uh, Rohan, did you ferget that yer a country kid too? We both grew up in the
same town-- this town, in fact-- for cryin' out loud,” Josuke had retorted,
before continuing, “So yes, I have my suspicions. What are we doing in Tokyo
then, huh? Is it related to work?”
 
Of course it was.
 
As was the norm at this point, ‘Everything is related to work.’ That’s what
Rohan himself had confirmed.
 
In Tokyo, the publishing company was going to be holding an annual award
ceremony-- it was a private event with no press allowed, and it was supposed to
be good publicity within the industry. Not that Rohan needed more publicity. He
had moved back to Morioh precisely for the peace and quiet it would grant him
in the first place-- both from fans, and also from his publishers and other
industry people.
 
His editor-- oh, and practically the rest of the higher ups-- had been begging
for Rohan to go though. Why?
 
Rohan-sensei was receiving another award.
 
At the mention of the award, the proud artist had swiped a hand through his
hair smugly, smiling to himself. Another one to add to the overflowing shelf
that Josuke had to dust. Rohan was all frowns again soon after, murmuring to
himself that hopefully the dinner fare this year would be headed by a better
chef-- preferably of European training, he had snobbily added.
 
But they were going to spend all of Saturday touring around though-- in
disguise?-- and that meant shopping.
 
Shibuya, that’s where he wanted to go. Already, he couldn’t resist planning for
which stores he wanted to hit up. If he was going to Tokyo, he was going to
make the most of it-- despite the doom and gloom that his moody partner had
cast upon their trip already.
***** Chapter 20 *****
Chapter Notes
     I try to avoid using honorifics, but I may have to go back and add
     them in.
Feeling more and more like a personal assistant than ever, Josuke flipped open
the planner Rohan had given him and checked the schedule for the day.
 
    * 8:00AM Wake up, shower, breakfast
    * 9:00AM Check luggage
    * 9:30AM Take a cab to the station
    * 10:00AM Board train
    * 1:00PM Arrive in Tokyo
    * 2:00PM Take a cab to the hotel
    * 2:30PM Get ready at the hotel
    * 4:30PM Take a cab to the venue
    * 5:00PM Arrive at reception
    * 7:00PM Award ceremony begins
    * 10:00PM Party ends
    * 10:15PM Take a cab back to the venue
    * 11:00PM Sleep
 
He tucked the small, leather-bound planner into his crossbody bag and grabbed
his and Rohan’s weekend luggage in each hand. Rohan’s carry-on was noticeably
heavier than Josuke’s-- Josuke’s was less than half full, to make room for the
goodies he had been planning to bring home. The gap between the platform and
the train was a bit wide, but not a problem for the lanky teenager. He easily
hopped into the train with the two bags as Rohan handed their tickets to the
train personnel to check their seats.
 
Slipping each small rolling luggage onto a shelf in the back of the train above
where the larger luggages were stashed, Josuke finished up his short chores.
There was a partition between the section he was in and the next, and in the
partition was a restroom and vending machine.
 
Rohan found him there later, trying to decide between jasmine or green iced
tea.
 
“Ya want anything?” he asked when his travel companion stood next to him.
Josuke fished around his pockets for some coins and counted them out in his
palm, but stopped when he heard the machine beep and dispense a beverage. Rohan
put in another bill, and purchased a second drink. Coins rattled out of the
change slot.
 
Silent, Rohan picked up the small can of black coffee and iced jasmine tea,
then strode out of the rest area. Hurriedly, Josuke scooped the change that
Rohan left in the machine into his hand, stuffed it into his jacket’s pocket,
and jogged after the tense man.
 
“Hey, you forgot yer change,” reminded Josuke as he slid into his large,
comfortable chair by the window. Rohan looked at the handful of change held
towards him and made a face.
 
“I don’t want to have all that jingling around in my wallet. Keep it,” stated
Rohan gruffly. He placed the jasmine iced tea into the cup holder closest to
Josuke, then wiped the lip of the coffee can off with a napkin before he
cracked it open.
 
The train was pretty empty-- next week, school was starting up again. There
were probably more people coming back from traveling over the break then people
leaving Morioh, thought Josuke as he glanced out the train window. Still, their
departure time wasn’t for a few more minutes, so maybe more people would show
up.
 
He dug around in his bag and pulled out one of Rohan’s disposable cameras
before placing the bag in the compartment above their seats.
 
Rohan deposited the now empty coffee can into his own cup holder, took a deep
breath, and slumped down glumly. He let out a long, attention-seeking sigh-
- eyes flicking towards Josuke’s direction briefly.
 
Josuke rolled his eyes and twisted the cap off of his drink. He took a sip-
- the jasmine tea was supposed to have beauty-enhancing properties, according
to the label on it-- while Rohan sighed again, this time louder.
 
“It’s good-- nice choice,” complimented the mischievous teenager despite
Rohan’s irritated snort. The flavor was mild with a floral scent. Not wanting
to go to the bathroom right away, Josuke recapped the tea and put it aside.
 
“Aren’t you going to dote on me?” complained the petulant older man as Josuke
continued to settle into his seat.
 
“’m getting to it-- we’re going to be on this ride for three hours, might as
well get comfy first,” chuckled Josuke, even while Rohan stared at him as
miserably as he could. The train attendants walked down the aisle past them,
politely asking the sparse passengers throughout their compartment if they
needed any assistance. They had no neighbors for about five rows both in front
and back of them. There were maybe only eight people total in their entire car,
not counting the train employees that moved throughout the train.
 
An overhead speaker announced that the train was departing for Tokyo, and the
shinkansen started moving.
 
When Rohan reached over their shared armrest to get Josuke’s attention a third
time, he swiped at the air in front of him. Excitedly, the teenager had pressed
himself against the train window to watch the scenery start to blur as the
train approached its travel speed. He snapped a picture of Morioh rapidly
vanishing as they traveled away from it, knowing that it would be a colorful
smudge when the photo developed.
 
“Have you had your fill of childish impulses yet?”
 
Smiling, Josuke turned back to see Rohan propping his elbows up on their
armrest with his head held up by a tight fist. He looked thoroughly fed up.
 
Resisting the urge to tease him further, Josuke finally said: “Yes. 'Kay,
what’s eating ya?”
 
“I don’t want to go back to Tokyo.”
 
“Yeah, you’ve established that.”
 
Dejectedly, Rohan slumped forward until his head bumped into Josuke’s shoulder.
Oddly uncharacteristic, worried Josuke, but Rohan was also Very, Very Sad. With
his height, Josuke only had to sit up a little bit to check if anyone had
shifted seats around them, but saw there was still a large clearance between
them and the other riders.
 
He chanced a brief kiss into Rohan’s styled hair and glided a hand up and down
the wibbling man’s back comfortingly.

Abruptly, Rohan suddenly pulled out of the embrace and straightened out his
light travel jacket.
 
Clearing his throat, he said a little embarrassedly, “Okay, I’m done being
comforted.” Stiffly, he fumbled around his satchel for his new travel
sketchbook and his own planner-- which, Josuke noted a bit happily, matched his
planner in design.
 
There was a small tremor in the artist’s hands still as he paused before he
flipped open his own planner. It was a mess-- deadline after deadline after
deadline was noted down in it. There were lots of parts that were crossed out,
circled, and boxed. In the margins were additional notes, scrawled in
impossibly tiny handwriting to fit as much information as possible into the
pockets of space around the weekly schedules.
 
Rohan frowned tightly-- to deal with his anxiety of going back to Tokyo, he had
worked in overdrive over the past week and turned in multiple projects ahead of
time. That sometimes worked against him though-- because being ahead of
schedule meant his publisher would think that he had more room for even more
projects. They would probably assign him piles of work as soon as he arrived at
the venue tonight. He massaged his forehead, troubled.
 
Josuke placed his own open planner on top of Rohan’s-- turned to the day to day
breakdown instead of the weekly breakdown-- and offered, “Wanna see what I have
planned for sightseeing on Saturday?”
 
Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “I was thinkin' that we can go try out
some of those famous crepes at Harajuku, and then walk to Shibuya afterwards to
check out the big fashion malls there! Have you done that before?”
Encouragingly, Josuke beamed at his strained partner.
 
“... Of course I have!” scoffed Rohan proudly. “In fact,” he placed his travel
sketchbook on top of the stack of planners and started rapidly sketching, “I
can draw a map of Tokyo by memory.”
 
With flourish, he flipped the accurate map towards Josuke.
 
“Oooh, well then, Mr. Big City, are ya gonna give a humble country kid like me
the grand tour?” mocked the teenager, snickering.
 
They spent the rest of the train ride going over Josuke’s plan, adjusting the
itinerary (“Foolish-- we should go to Tokyo Tower for dinner. The view is much
nicer at night than in the morning. Trust me, I’ve dined there multiple
times…”) based off of Rohan’s travel experiences, and by checking the newspaper
and magazines on the train to see what else was happening that weekend around
where they were staying.
 
Relieved, Josuke sat back with a content smile as Rohan energetically recounted
a reference trip he had taken in Shinjuku that resulted in him meeting tourists
who were international fans of his work.
 
---
 
Hailing a cab in Tokyo was easier than Josuke thought-- but thinking back on
it, it made sense. Cell phones were, after all, a staple of the busy business
executive. When watching TV, he often saw some kind of corporate big wig pull
out a portable phone to impatiently arrange a taxi-- signifying that the
character was some of Important and Powerful person whose time was more
valuable than other people’s, or something.
 
All it took was a phone call when the unlikely duo got off the train, and the
cab was waiting for them at the arranged location right outside the station.
Rohan-- sunglasses on and collar popped up over the lower half of his face, as
if his green headband that he left on didn’t give away who he was already-- and
Josuke had stood on the curb for less than a minute before hopping into the
yellow cab.
 
As the car made its way through the many packed streets towards their hotel,
Josuke wondered if time really did move faster in the bustling, large city.
Josuke barely had the chance to properly look at the sights around him. The
unfamiliar shapes and colors around him of big city living seemed like a blur.
Rohan muttered that Josuke was embarrassing when he ooh’ed and ahh’ed at
everything around him with the disposable camera in hand to snap pictures of
the places they were zipping by. (Somehow-- by an amazing leap of logic that
only worked in Rohan’s mind-- taking photos as a tourist was more embarrassing
than taking photos as an artist. Rohan insisted that there was a different
demeanor about him-- something more purposeful and respectable-- when he would
hunt around cities to take photos for his manga. Yeah right, Josuke had
retorted, he’d seen the way Rohan would creepily stalk around town with his
complete camera rig to intrusively photograph people’s private lives.)
 
There was just so much to see-- tall buildings, fashionable people, expensive
stores, food he wanted to try-- and then even more things to admire when they
were inside the hotel. It was huge! Everything was sparkly! The elevators were
gigantic and lined with mirrors! There were crystal lights decorating the
halls!
 
“Hurry up and go get ready-- you take forever,” commanded Rohan as he stuffed
Josuke and his camera out of the hotel hallway and into their suite.
 
“Come on, come on, come on,” Rohan huffed impatiently while chasing Josuke into
to the restroom with his toiletries so that he was no longer staring slackjawed
at their entire room.
 
“Even the restroom is frickin' amazing!” cried the elated teenager after Rohan
shut the door behind him.
 
Throwing open the door, Rohan caught his assistant pulling out all the drawers
to marvel at the complimentary bathroom goods tucked into them. “For God’s
sake, Josuke, you can look at it later!”
 
---
 
“Don’t you dare judge me-- you still have the advantage of youth!” shrieked
Rohan when Josuke balked at the array of products the artist had brought with
him that were lined up on the bathroom counter.
 
“What the-- I know I call you an old man all the time, but aren’tja only 20 or
whatever?” He bent down to eye each bottle and tube at eye-level. Curiously,
Josuke watched Rohan pat an oil into his freshly washed hair.
 
“21 this year,” corrected the vain man. “Now get out-- oh, and can you iron my
suit when you iron yours, please?”
 
In front of the vanity in their bedroom, Josuke carefully sculpted his
pompadour after getting kicked out of the bathroom by Rohan-- the true King of
Taking Forever to Get Ready. His trusty comb helped guide each lock of hair
into place, then he set the hairstyle in place with hairspray.
 
Now alone, the inquisitive teenager took his time strolling to their balcony to
crack it open and air out the chilly, air-conditioned room that now smelled of
hairspray. Standing there in a fluffy bathrobe and his comb in hand, Josuke
pushed the heavy, white curtains aside and stared at the expanse in front of
him past the sliding door.
 
Tokyo, he was in Tokyo.
 
In front of him was The Big City. The place where people from his quiet town
would leave if they made it big. The very place that engulfed, corrupted, and
changed simple suburbia folk like himself into monsters-- or that’s what he had
heard from older people shaking their heads sadly as they recounted stories
about promising young relatives who went to Tokyo for work and came back
forever changed.
 
Rohan did have a very metropolitan air about him-- as if he was too good for
Morioh, even though he was the one that returned to the gentle city uninitiated
after spending years everywhere all over the world.
 
Tokyo looked like just any other big city to him, though, concluded Josuke as
he languidly peeked over the edge of the balcony-- bare feet on the cold
cement-- and squinted at the haziness of the city below him. Now that he had
the chance to digest his surroundings a little more, the novelty of the place
was starting to wane.
 
Still, he needed to thank Rohan again later for taking him all the way out
here. The train ticket alone was about 11,000 yen, and the extravagant hotel
they were staying at was definitely at least that amount per night-- if not
more.
 
Trotting back into the hotel suite, Josuke set his hair with another layer of
hairspray. When the hairspray smell went away, he shut the balcony’s sliding
door and drew the heavy layers of curtain shut-- there was one thin, netting-
like layer, then a thick layer with a silver-lined back that prevented any
light from bleeding through, followed by a decorative white fabric layer that
had intricate patterns made with pearl-colored thread on it. They had another
hour before they needed to leave-- surely he could finally take his time to
look around a bit. He had to find the ironing board, right?
 
Their suite was basically an apartment-- a very nice one, at that. Walking back
to the entrance door, Josuke looked around himself with an excited sparkle back
in his eyes. Whoever designed the rooms had examined every detail to tie the
look together-- even the light switches and outlets were dark metal plates
instead of the standard, white plastic housings he was used to. While the
interior of the hotel was bright and shiny, the inside of the hotel suite was
soothingly dark and soft.
 
The walls were dark, with a faint stripe pattern on them. The heavy front door
with two locks led into a dimly lit hallway with a small, illuminated closet
that had room for shoes and coats. There were complimentary umbrellas and
raincoats hung up inside of it. After that, there was a lockless door that led
to the bathroom-- presently occupied by Rohan as he applied concealer around
his tired eyes before doing the rest of his makeup. From what Josuke remembered
from his time in the bathroom, it was split up into two areas-- one small room
with a toilet and window that was partitioned off from the bathing area with a
frosted glass door.
 
He recalled that the bathing area was excessively fancy-- there was a TV in it
that faced a large, spa-style tub. There was an open shower with a glass door
next to the tub. Both bathing areas had a variety of hotel-endorsed products
laid out on the tiled and porcelain surfaces-- fancy shampoo, conditioner, body
wash, shower gel, shaving cream, and bar soap. It seemed redundant, but Josuke
figured that he could squirrel away a set to draw out the luxurious experience
even when he was home.
 
There were two sinks, one large mirror, along with mounted mirrors on
articulated arms that could also be lit-up for easy makeup application. On top
of the sink counters were face tissues, hand soap, and face towels. Pretty,
metallic brass jars with textured surfaces held cotton balls and q-tips. The
brass-handled drawers smoothly glided open to reveal razors, shaving cream,
aftershave, fragrance samples, makeup remover wipes, toothbrushes, toothpaste,
disposable combs, shower caps, and skincare products (Rohan said the hotel's
skincare products weren’t as good as the ones that he had brought). The
cabinets had hair dryers, straighteners, and curlers. There were towels-- so
many, many towels. Hand towels, face towels, blanket-sized towels to wrap your
body in, and smaller ones to wrap your hair in. The bathrobe was a kind of
towel too. It was awesome.
 
He wandered the rest of their living quarters. The sitting area was both a
living room and a very compact kitchen with a mini fridge. A gift of champagne
sat in a bucket of ice next to two delicate champagne flutes. Beside it was a
small personalized card that welcomed Kishibe-sensei back to their
establishment and thanked him for his continued patronage.
 
Josuke ran his fingers over the sparkly, gold ink the hotel manager had signed
the card with, and put it back in place. To his surprise, underneath the card
were two pieces of luxury chocolate from Belgium. Absently, he unwrapped one
and put it in his mouth-- it had a gritty texture from orange peel shavings,
and the hints of citrus flavor helped offset the bitter chocolate. Humming
around the tasty snack, Josuke continued to explore-- enjoying the feel of the
plush carpet beneath his feet.
 
The large living room TV was inside a gorgeous, black cabinet and faced a white
couch with gold metal accents. All of the framed photos on the walls-- of
different destinations around the world-- were black and white in shiny metal
frames. In front of the TV was a marble coffee table with a number of magazines
laid out. The magazines catered to a very upper-class lifestyle that Josuke
could only dream about. One highlighted a variety of vacation packages to
foreign countries, and the other that he flipped through had reviews on the
best five star restaurants around the area. He salivated at a large photo of a
multi-course spread that included fois gras. What did fois gras even taste
like? It looked good, regardless.
 
The door behind the sitting room led to a plush, grand bed in a sizeable
bedroom. He tested his weight on it-- impossibly, Rohan’s bed at home felt more
comfortable than the already heavenly hotel bed. Still, the fresh scent of the
linens was very welcoming, and Josuke resisted the urge to burrow into the
smooth sheets in case his hair would get mussed up. There was also a TV in this
room, along with a heavy-looking desk and leather armchair. The closet was
huge-- he had heard that some people rented hotel rooms to live in instead of
apartments. Maybe this was a place that accommodated those kind of rich
patrons? There was a safe inside the closet, along with an iron and ironing
board, plus Josuke saw that Rohan had already shoved their luggages into the
closet at some point.
 
He rolled up his bath robe’s sleeves and started unpacking-- time to dig out
their suits and get them ready.
 
---
 
Josuke was putting his earrings on in front of the vanity when he felt Rohan
approach him from behind.
 
“Don’t wear those-- they’re cheap,” he remarked flippantly as he stopped
Josuke’s hands and then removed the earrings.
 
“Hey!” objected Josuke, throwing out Crazy Diamond’s large hand to pluck the
earrings back mid-air when Rohan tossed them into the trash. “Don’t be an ass,
and they’re not cheap,” muttered the offended teenager as he checked that the
earring backs were still on the studs.
 
Rohan tugged his tall partner down to his height and quickly put new earrings
on Josuke, then hurriedly strode away with his pressed suit on a hanger thrown
over an arm. Bewildered, Josuke watched the manga artist retreat-- noting that
the tips of his ears were pink.
 
Alone in the bedroom, he leaned towards the vanity to look at the jewelry Rohan
had thrusted on him.
 
They were small, glittering studs-- modestly and tastefully sized diamonds,
cradled in gold.
 
Sheepishly, Josuke grinned from ear to ear. He then called out from the
bedroom, “Is this yer way of giving me a present?”
 
Rohan didn’t answer back.
 
Laughing beneath his breath, Josuke admired the way the sparkly jewelry looked
on himself, and then stood up straight to carefully lint roll his suit one last
time.
 
---
 
"Rohan, you look great,” complimented Josuke as he leaned down to press a kiss
on Rohan’s cheek-- he was stopped by Rohan’s manicured hand.
 
“No kissing, you’ll ruin my makeup,” grumbled the flustered man, forcing Josuke
to take a step back from him.
 
They regarded each other.
 
Josuke wore a dark grey suit with a pastel purple dress shirt. His one-button
jacket was worn closed-- it highlighted the way his broad chest tapered to a
slim waist. His gold-colored tie was satin and shiny. The watch on his left-
hand had a large face and a brown leather band-- a darker shade of brown than
the brown leather belt he wore with a simple, rectangular clasp. Josuke favored
shiny, dark grey oxfords for suits, and had brought his best pair for the fancy
dinner occasion.
 
Rohan had a slim, black three-piece suit with a crisp, white dress shirt that
had a pleated front. His jacket was worn open, revealing the matching vest
underneath. His own tie was green with a subtle pattern on it, and for once he
wasn’t wearing his green headband. Instead of a watch, he had a delicate silver
bracelet. His usual gold pen nib earrings were now silver pen nib earrings. The
thin belt he wore was black leather, with a small Versace buckle. He wore
tassel loafers in dark brown.
 
“Here, I got you a present too,” said Josuke quietly as he slipped a metal tie
clip engraved with horizontal stripes around the upper half of Rohan’s necktie.
 
Awkward, the man ran his thin fingers across the clip. His mouth was drawn in a
tight line, even though despite his makeup, Josuke could see the shorter man’s
cheeks heat up.
 
“These are real diamonds, huh?” remarked Josuke with a pleased smile as he
stood up straight and ran a finger across the studs on his ears.
 
“Of course they are.”
 
“Thank you, Rohan.”
 
Silently, they stood together in the sitting room. They were both ready to go,
right? Why were they just standing there? Josuke tilted his head, confused, and
waited for some sort of signal from his employer. Eventually, Rohan wrung his
hands nervously, not moving from where he was.

Carefully, Josuke gathered the smaller man into a loose hug-- careful to not
upset any of Rohan’s grooming.
 
“This sure is one hell of a first date,” he breathed into the gelled hair of
his partner, who stilled against him. He lightly patted Rohan’s tense back, and
then stepped back.
 
Gruffly, Rohan pulled Josuke forward by grabbing him behind the jaw for a kiss.
He smashed their lips together, urgently, anxiously, and Josuke kissed back
softly after the shock went away. Placing his hands over Rohan’s trembling
hands, he nipped lightly and kissed slowly-- until Rohan calmed down and
matched his pace.
 
As he relaxed, Rohan finally sighed into the kiss and let Josuke run his tongue
across his lower lip. Moaning quietly, Rohan licked back too, then stepped back
slowly with his eyes lidded.
 
“Thank you too, Josuke,” he eventually said after he had reapplied lip balm and
lip tint.
 
“Mmhmm-- feeling better?” asked the cheeky teenager as he picked up what he
planned to bring with him from where he laid his items out on the coffee table:
wallet, hotel key, chapstick, comb.
 
Rohan tucked a small, plain clutch under his arm and nodded tightly. He wrapped
his hand around Josuke’s wrist and flicked it up, checking Josuke’s watch for
the time.
 
“Yes. Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”
 
When they got to the elevator, Josuke leaned back onto the bars inside of it
and looked up at the mirror on the ceiling. He kind of wished he brought the
disposable camera, but it didn’t fit in his pockets.

 
“If this isn’t a good first date, you can tell me,” sternly said Rohan as he
fixed his cuffs again. He looked up at Josuke with a serious expression.
 
“Well, to be honest-- it doesn’t really feel like a date, but more like a
business outing,” shrugged Josuke with a small smile. He stuffed his hands into
his pockets-- their room was on the 58th floor, so the smooth elevator ride
down to the lobby was a bit long.
 
Seeing Rohan tense up again, Josuke watched the man struggle to think of a
response. Eventually, he settled with, “I don’t think I’m very good at dating.”
 
“I don’t think anyone is all that good at dating, Rohan.” The elevator slowed
to a stop.
 
“... Well, let’s get through tonight’s circus-- and then, I’ll, figure
something out.”
 
Josuke wanted to tell him that it was fine, but saw the way Rohan set his jaw
determinedly. So he nodded as the doors opened, and then followed Rohan-sensei
out.
 
---
 
The nametag that was pinned to the front of his suit said “Josuke Higashikata”
on one line, and then “Guest of Rohan Kishibe” on the second line. For everyone
else, that second line usually said something related to the industry, like
“editor,” or “marketer,” and in Rohan’s case, “author.” The other people with
“Guest of ______” were usually family members-- spouses, kids-- or friends.
 
Rohan had introduced Josuke as a fan.
 
“Kishibe-sensei brought a guest?” said one very professional-looking woman,
alarmed. Rohan coolly explained that she was on the board of directors.
 
“How cute-- I heard he’s a fan that’s a high school student!” said another
person-- a younger woman from the marketing department, apparently.
 
“Look at that hair-- you think he likes delinquent manga?”
 
Unsure how to answer, Josuke stayed quiet-- eating hors d’oeuvre after hors
d’oeuvre as he followed Rohan around the reception. Clearly the star of the
evening, there was already a crowd of people around them even though they had
been there for less than ten minutes-- people all around him were shaking
Rohan’s hand, commending Rohan for the quality of his work as of late, greeting
Josuke, and just being in a generally good and social mood. There was so much
noise around them, and it mixed with the slow jazz from a live band that played
on a stage set up in front of all the decorated dinner tables.
 
“Is Rohan’s guest a halfie? He’s so tall!”
 
Waiters with trays of refreshments and small bites moved through the crowds of
industry professionals. Outside of their immediate group were other clusters of
people from the manga industry. Of course, Josuke recognized no one. The only
manga he had read recently was Pink Dark Boy, after all, and he had only read
it out of boredom. The experience was somewhat wasted on him, he thought. Idly,
he imagined how much Koichi would have loved to be at an event like this.
 
Rohan was listening to his editor talk at him-- his face switching rapidly
between smiling proudly at the praise being lavished onto him for his increased
output, then to scowling at any mention of the upcoming video game, or the
possibility of yet another collaboration, and really just anything else that
wasn’t a compliment. The editor was walking him to different people that Rohan
needed to greet, and Josuke followed mindlessly while nodding and smiling
politely at all of the people trying to get his attention.
 
Josuke placed his emptied hors d’oeuvres implements-- sampling spoons, small
plastic cups, napkins, toothpicks-- onto a passing waiter’s tray that was
collecting the used items to throw away. They were having French food tonight,
the editor had said-- when he saw Rohan’s brow wrinkle, his editor quickly
added that the executive chef for tonight was a famous celebrity chef that
trained with the best from an acclaimed cooking school in Paris. Rohan nodded
approvingly at that information.
 
“How long have you been reading Kishibe-sensei’s works?” asked an author-- a
friendly, loud man in his late thirties who was greying (from the stress and
overwork that was typical of being an author of a manga, Rohan had said) that
clapped Josuke on the shoulder genially.
 
“Nice to meet you, Higashikata-kun!” squeaked a small child that was holding
onto the hand of their father, a publicity agent for the company.
 
“Can we take photos with him, Rohan?” asked an intern with really big glasses,
who was blushing when they approached Rohan and Josuke.
 
“What a handsome young man!”
 
Oh--
 
“Are you excited for the Pink Dark Boy video game?”
 
Um--
 
“Where are you from?”
 
Ah--
 
“How did you end up meeting your idol, Higashikata-kun?”
 
Help?
 
Out of hors d’oeuvres, Josuke looked around quickly, unable to think of what to
say. Slightly uncoordinatedly, he stepped back towards Rohan, who wasn’t facing
him as he was conversing with other people from his industry. Crazy Diamond-
- invisible to non-stand-users-- manifested above Rohan and looked at him
pleadingly with his big eyes.
 
Rohan turned around mid-conversation and stepped between Josuke and the crowd
of people trying to speak to the confused and overwhelmed teenager.
 
“I apologize, everyone-- Higashikata-kun is a bit shy. He’s a simple country
child from my quaint hometown, and isn’t used to all of this spectacle. Could
you please give us a bit of space, then?”
 
Attractive, poised, and graceful-- everyone stopped to marvel at the esteemed
Rohan Kishibe. It was quiet for a beat, before Josuke startled from the people
around him yelling in unison, “Awww!”
 
“That’s so cute!”
 
“Where are my manners? I forgot that he’s just a young boy!”
 
“Kishibe-sensei is so nice!”
 
“Sensei, then could we get a photo of you with your guest, please?”
 
Laughing charmingly as he soaked up all the praise, Rohan put his arm around
Josuke’s waist-- Josuke was too tall and too broad for him to comfortably put
his arm any higher than that-- and loudly said, “Of course!”
 
A bunch of lights went off, and Josuke stood there dumbly with lights still
flickering in his mind as the crowd left him suddenly at Rohan’s request.
 
“Come on, Josuke,” said Rohan with a smug smile-- feeling a lot more at ease
than earlier now that he had been complimented nearly nonstop for almost two
hours, “It’s time for dinner.”
 
---
 
Everything happened very fast after that.
 
They were seated, and Josuke found out that the hors d’oeuvres were the first
course of the seven-course French meal they were to have. After everyone was
settled in, the president of the publishing company came on-stage to talk about
what a great year they had. He talked about the changes in the industry, the
start of new projects, the dawn of a new age, and other stuff that frankly did
not interest Josuke. Rohan, however, sat enraptured. He nodded his head
frequently, sipping his flavored champagne and often muttered something under
his breath.
 
Eventually, another speaker went on stage-- someone in charge of running
events, Josuke guessed-- to thank everyone who helped to make the awards
ceremony happen, and to say that they’ll get to the awards ceremony after
dinner. Finally, blessedly, it was time to eat.
 
The second course was the appetizer-- it was a cold salmon mousse. Josuke ate
the small, refreshing course in one bite. Rohan had stared at him, scandalized.
He couldn’t help it! The hors d’oeuvres did their job in wetting his appetite,
so he was voracious at this point. Pointedly, Rohan used a fork and knife to
split his bite-sized appetizer into even smaller pieces, then ate them with
poise and grace while staring directly at Josuke.
 
The third course was fish, but a more sizeable amount of fish than the small
portion of salmon mousse. It was bouillabaisse, which didn’t look very
delectable to Josuke’s eyes, but ended up tasting magnificent to his tongue.
After slurping down his tan-colored stew with large chunks of fish, Josuke
enjoyed a lemon sorbet while Rohan tried to coach him through pronouncing
bouillabaisse (“boo-yeah-base”). It took a few minutes before Rohan
embarrassedly realized that Josuke was purposefully mispronouncing
bouillabaisse (“blew-your-vase,” “boo-lay-boss,” “brew-la-face”) on purpose so
that he could watch Rohan turn red with frustration.
 
The fourth course was the main course-- which was served with red wine, but
Josuke was not allowed any. He was a tad disappointed, especially since he knew
from past experience from family dinners that a small amount of alcohol
wouldn’t make him sick, but Rohan wouldn’t let him have a sip regardless. The
savory meal was chicken cordon bleu. Haughtily, Rohan had sneered at how
predictable the choice was, and felt that the dish pandered to an average
person’s palette. Josuke happily said that as an average person, he was very
glad to have gotten to eat the cheesy, meaty dish. Rohan still insisted that he
would take Josuke to better French cuisine in the future-- such as his favorite
restaurant in France.
 
He didn’t respond when Josuke tilted his head and asked, “Does that mean I’m
going to France with you?”
 
The fifth course was the salad course. It was a very refreshing, simple dish-
- the greens were fresh, and the dressing was a light vinaigrette. Rohan asked
Josuke if he had been finishing every course set in front of him-- garnish and
all-- and Josuke said that he had. Unexpectedly, Rohan pressed a flat palm on
Josuke’s stomach, alarmed at how the teenager was somehow packing all of the
food away.
 
The sixth course was cheese. Fussing over the younger, Rohan helped cut the
cheese from the wood board and layered it onto bread for Josuke to eat.
Honestly, it made him a bit homesick as he ate the cheese. Tonio’s caprese
salad-- made with tomatoes and mozzarella-- was better than everything he had
eaten so far.
 
The final, seventh course was dessert. No matter what Rohan said-- it looked
and tasted like a creampuff. It was a very good creampuff, but still a
creampuff nonetheless.
 
It was when they were drinking their coffee and arguing about if brown sugar
really tasted that remarkably different than white sugar that the event planner
was back on stage. They cordially excused the interruption, and asked for
everyone’s attention for the well-anticipated awards ceremony.
 
Rohan sat up as if in cue, chest swelling with pride.
 
Josuke eyed him with his hand propping up his head and his coffee stirrer in
his mouth. Even though Rohan had been reluctant to come to Tokyo, it looked
like the night so far was mostly just making his ego grow even bigger than
before. As if Josuke had believed him when Rohan tried to dismiss the award as
“just another one for the shelf” when they were in Morioh anyway.
 
There were many awards to be handed out that night, but the eager manga artist
did not relax even once throughout the first twenty minutes of speeches and
awards that were given for other achievements at the company. He sat there,
unwavering, ready to leap up at any moment to get his award. Growing bored,
Josuke had asked for seconds of dessert, and was drinking orange juice since he
couldn’t get any wine.
 
“--And with that, we come to this year’s Most Popular Story award…”
 
Josuke yelped around his creampuff when he felt Rohan’s sharp nails stab into
his thigh, and he wiped his mouth off with his napkin as Rohan’s nails sunk in
deeper.
 
“As always, we asked our readers to write in to vote for their favorite story-
- and they delivered, by the truckload!”
 
Thrumming in place, Rohan’s eyes glittered excitedly and paid no mind to Josuke
extracting Rohan’s fingers out of his leg meat.
 
“It is with my honor to announce that-- for the third year in a row-- Pink Dark
Boy has been voted as the most popular story for our magazine! Please, Kishibe-
sensei, come up to receive your award.”
 
Josuke half-expected for Rohan to dash up the stage, and scooted back in
anticipation. Instead, Rohan rose up elegantly as all eyes turned to him. The
hall was filled with thundering applause as he looked around himself, smiling
and waving gracefully before he took long, gliding steps to the stage. As he
climbed the short staircase up to the elevated platform, he really worked the
crowd by facing them all and nodding cordially.
 
Maybe there were social situations that Rohan wasn’t an utter disaster in after
all, thought Josuke.
 
In his smart suit, Rohan looked like he belonged on the stage as he shook the
hand of the event planner when they handed him the award in the same movement.
He stepped up to the podium, beaming his shiny, white teeth, and the applause
gradually died away in preparation for his speech. Josuke took his coffee cup
and saucer into his hands and sat up too. In a way, he did feel a bit proud.
Sure, he had no idea when the poll had taken place. Perhaps it was long before
Rohan had employed him. Maybe it was very recent, and the popularity of Pink
Dark Boy had indeed grown thanks to the strategic changes suggested by Rohan’s
dedicated editor and Josuke’s help as his assistant. Regardless, Pink Dark Boy
was something that he was part of now, so in a way, Rohan’s win was also
Josuke’s.
 
“Let this be a lesson to all of you amateurs that you don’t need a team of
assistants to draw good manga-- you just need to be a genius, like myself.”
 
Josuke nearly spat out his coffee.
 
Unexpectedly, the audience members chuckled. Someone from a neighboring table
goodnaturedly said, “He’s always such a kidder!”
 
Was his abrasive nature lost on his coworkers?
 
“I’ve been drawing this manga for three years, and if it weren't for all of you
peasants getting in my way, I believe Pink Dark Boy would be more than just the
most popular manga in a Japanese company. I believe Pink Dark Boy would be the
most popular manga in the world.”
 
Josuke carefully sipped his coffee, wary that the venue would break out into a
fight. Rohan’s editor stood up and hollered, “Yeah! Next year, let’s make it
the most popular manga in the world!”
 
“With that, I leave you all to ponder on your mistakes and learn from my
greatness.” He hefted the award up towards the audience, tucked it under his
arm, and then walked off the stage.
 
What the hell?
 
Bewildered, Josuke looked around at all the people clapping and laughing for
the ridiculously obtuse, self-absorbed, egotistical man who had just insulted
them all directly after thanklessly receiving a reward. Maybe since Rohan was
only in Tokyo once every few months, they didn’t realize that he meant every
horrible thing he said? Josuke’s head swam.
 
Rohan placed the large trophy-- a shiny plaque with the year, award type, and
his name on it-- on the table and shoved it towards Josuke.
 
“I live and die by my hands, Josuke. Could you please carry the heavy award
back to the hotel with you?” he said as he picked up his clutch and took
another drink from his coffee before he stood up.
 
“Huh? The event planner is still talking--”
 
“I got my award already, so we can leave. Come on, let’s go before we get stuck
trying to leave at the same time as everyone else.”
 
Stumbling, Josuke apologized to the people they passed that Rohan blithely
ignored with a vacant smile on his face.
 
“Kishibe-sensei is leaving already?”
 
"Congratulations again, Kishibe-sensei!"
 
“Aw, he always leaves after he gets his award.”
 
“Higashikata-kun, come back to Tokyo again soon!”
 
“--And suitably, we have a surprise announcement for the most popular manga
this year!”
 
“Rohan, wait,” said Josuke, grabbing the retreating man’s sleeve as they exited
the event hall, closing the doors behind them. “I think you should listen to
this, they’re talkin' about ya.”
 
“Of course they’re talking about me-- I’m famous, and my manga is the most
popular story that has ever graced this company. People are always talking
about me. Let’s go.”
 
“No, I mean I think this is important--”
 
The acoustics of the sound set-up was amazing. Josuke could still hear the
event planner through the shut doors and down the hall as Rohan speed walked
towards freedom, even if the event planner’s voice was progressively more and
more muffled as they made their way out of the building. However, Rohan-- who
was now lovingly cuddling his award to his chest so that he could enjoy it as
they waited for the elevator-- and Josuke could still make sense of the
surprise announcement back at the venue hall from where they were:
 
“We are in the works with a certain animation company to make a Pink Dark Boy
anime adaption!”
 
Crack!
 
Rohan dropped his award, and-- impressively-- it cracked the tiled floor.
***** Chapter 21 *****
Chapter Notes
     I'm at home sick today.
Josuke had wrestled Rohan to the ground-- with Crazy Diamond holding down
Heaven’s Door beside them-- to prevent the frothing man from making good on his
promise to wipe out all memories of a Pink Dark Boy anime from the entire
audience. Fortunately, the loud clapping and cheering from Rohan’s coworkers
being excited for the anime adaptation drowned out the violent noises of Josuke
and Rohan tussling around (“Cut it out, Rohan! You’re not thinking straight!”
“How dare they-- how fucking dare they--!”) on the tile floor in front of the
elevators.
 
Copying a submission hold he had seen on TV and playfully practiced with his
friends a few times, the tall, muscular teen pinned Rohan’s arms against his
chest by wrapping his arms tightly around the smaller man’s midsection, and
stood up hastily.
 
Gasping and grunting, Rohan was red in the face with unbridled rage as his legs
kicked weakly. He dangled defenselessly from Josuke’s strong hold on him,
unable to make any headway in escaping the hold no matter how hard he thrashed.
While Josuke wasn’t squeezing him nearly hard enough to actually hurt the
struggling man, he did make sure that he was keeping Rohan in a tight enough
grip that the snarling madman wouldn’t be able to squirm out.
 
As Rohan tried to flounder his way out of the bodylock, he panted heavier and
heavier. Willfully stubborn-- but stupidly so-- Rohan ultimately could no
longer breathe enough to supply his weakening body enough air to fight. Due to
the way he was being held, his energetic flapping about became progressively
more sluggish as he grew more tired.
 
Eventually, his head fell forward and-- sweating profusely-- Rohan gasped
shakily against Josuke’s neck, unable to do anything other than try to catch
his breath.
 
Josuke too was exhausted-- his arms ached painfully from squeezing and holding
Rohan up for however long it took for the childish man to tucker himself out.
The adrenaline was leaving Josuke’s body, and he felt fatigue and pain seep
into his quaking muscles. Regardless of how much he wanted to give in to his
weariness, he thought better than to let Rohan down as soon as the manga artist
had quieted-- the small, angry man could scramble away as soon as he was free
to obliterate the memories of everyone in the building that night.
 
Instead, he waited till Heaven’s Door faded away.
 
Good, sighed Josuke with relief. That meant Rohan wasn’t going to fight him
anymore.
 
Haltingly-- mostly because his locked arms were so set in their position at
this point that moving them at all lit all of his nerves on fire-- Josuke
untangled Rohan from his arms and set him down with the help of Crazy Diamond’s
sturdy grip. Unsteady, Rohan somberly slumped against the large stand.
 
Seeing that his partner’s clutch and award were still on the ground, Josuke
stooped down to pick them up even as his body wobbled. Belatedly, he found that
the black clutch was surprisingly heavy. He ran his fingers over the oddly
familiar shape of whatever was inside the clutch.
 
It was the cell phone-- oh, that gave him an idea.
 
“Rohan, instead of doing the overdramatic thing of wiping the minds of all the
innocent people enjoying a work party, why not be reasonable and call yer
friendly editor when we get back to the hotel? Let’s see if he could help
cancel the anime project, yeah?” offered Josuke as he tucked the clutch and
large plaque safely under his arm.
 
Listlessly, Rohan turned around and pressed his face into Crazy Diamond’s body
as he sulked-- unwilling to face the gentle teenager who was trying his best to
calm the wrathful older man.
 
Josuke sighed and retrieved his stand so that he could repair the tile they had
cracked. To his surprise, there was a casualty to their fight-- a potted plant
they had knocked over while wrestling on the floor. He whispered his apologies
and put the broken tiles and pot back together in a crackle of light. The small
tree didn’t look too worn for wear in its reassembled home, thankfully.
 
Dismal and crabby, Rohan clicked his tongue now that he no longer had something
to dramatically lean against. He crossed his arms fixedly against his small
body, shoulders hunched up to his ears-- the classic image of a grouch.
Combined with Rohan’s inclinations towards the color green, thought Josuke, the
manga artist resembled an angry troll or goblin at times.
 
“Besides, do you even got enough stamina to take out, like, three hundred
freakin’ people?” argued Josuke, hesitating briefly before he placed his large
hand on Rohan’s thin shoulder in what he hoped seemed like a comforting manner.
Good, the massive pissbaby didn’t try to shrug his grip off, and brought his
shoulders down a short distance as he relaxed bit by bit from Josuke’s touch.
Finally, Josuke recognized with relief that Rohan’s tantrum had progressed to
the point where even the impossible manchild was frankly starting to feel a
little ridiculous for still being so determinedly vengeful.
 
“Maybe if you helped me, then yes,” grouched Rohan stubbornly.
 
Flipping his wrist up, Josuke checked the time and then pressed the elevator
button mounted in a pretty gold plate on the wall. They should get going-- the
party would wrap up in about twenty minutes. Checking around himself carefully,
Josuke slid his arm across Rohan’s shoulders and pulled him close for a brief
hug. Muttering into Rohan’s messed up hair, he grumbled, “While ya know that I
sympathize with ya and all, ya also know that I wouldn’t be able to help ya
with something like that, right?” He then let go of the older man, seeing that
the dial on top of the lift signaled that the elevator was quickly approaching.
 
Pouting, Rohan whined, “You would if you loved me.”
 
The shiny black elevator doors opened, and they stepped into the blessedly
empty lift. Once the doors shut completely, Josuke couldn’t stop himself from
gathering Rohan into an intimate embrace as he tiredly fell back against the
cold, metal walls of the elevator they were in. In the back of his mind, Josuke
knew that he was probably spoiling his immature partner. Absently, he smoothed
the bangs out of Rohan’s face and pressed a kiss to his sweaty forehead.
 
“Attacking hundreds of innocent people with stands is a pretty funny way to
show that ya love someone, Rohan.”
 
“Mmrgh,” was the only sound Rohan made-- he had burrowed himself into Josuke’s
wide chest to sniff pitifully.
 
“...So when we get to the hotel, are ya gonna call yer editor and talk it out
with him? Hmm? He’s yer editor-- I get the feeling that out of everyone at the
company, he knows ya best. I’m sure he can help work something out with the
higher-ups, ‘kay?”
 
He felt Rohan nod against his chest.
 
Relieved, Josuke patted him a few more times before they had to separate again-
- the elevator doors were opening to the lobby.
 
---
 
Splayed on the bed in boxer briefs with his legs bent in front of him, Josuke
flipped through the TV channels without any goal in mind. He sipped a soft
drink from the mini fridge. Outside in the sitting room, Rohan was pacing while
on the phone with his editor. Initially, he had been coaching Rohan through the
discussion-- reminding him that he needed to stop acting so defensive all the
time so that he could have a real conversation as a professional. Snorting,
Rohan had said that Josuke would be defensive too if the sanctity of his
creations was being attacked all the time.
 
Still, desperate to shake off an anime adaption, he had weakly asked Josuke to
stay with him a while when he made the call. During that time, Josuke listened
carefully to the hotel’s crisp landline on speakerphone to give Rohan a thumbs
up (“Good evening, my apologies for calling so late…”) or a thumbs down (“But
who the fuck approved of an anime adaption of my work?”) depending on how the
conversation was going.
 
Eventually, Rohan’s kindly editor had promised that, as Rohan’s advocate at the
main office, he would try to figure out a compromise. Nodding approvingly at
the calmer conversation tones, Josuke then had gestured if he could let the two
working men take care of business-- Rohan allowed it with a distracted
handwave, and Josuke had went to the bedroom to put away his nice suit. Thank
god the drycleaning service at the hotel was complimentary-- he didn’t want his
custom suit to stay creased and stinky from their fight earlier.
 
To his left-hand side, the door cracked open.
 
Delicately, Rohan plodded into the room and then collapsed face down on the bed
besides Josuke.
 
“How’d it go?”
 
“If he can’t cancel it, he may be able to see if the higher-ups will be willing
to shorten the adaption into an OVA or something even shorter than that-- which
is better than a full-fledged series. And if it has to be adapted, then this
time... I’ll,” gagged Rohan distastefully, “Participate.”
 
“That ain’t so bad! I mean-- at least if ya participate, then maybe it won’t go
the way the video game went, right?”
 
Still laying stomach-down on the bed, Rohan turned his head to face Josuke with
a pout. He then stuck his hand out and placed it on Josuke’s lower leg,
stroking a finger on the stubble that had grown.
 
“...What?” asked Josuke, frowning nervously at the way the eccentric’s gaze
fixed on the teenager’s body.
 
“My second disappointment of the night-- I wanted to be the one who undressed
you, but you’re already undressed.”
 
Pfft.
 
Cracking up, Josuke slipped his hands under Rohan’s armpits and lifted him-
- like a small kitten-- into his lap. Straddling one of Josuke’s thick thighs,
Rohan sat there, dejectedly.
 
He startled when Josuke swiftly started undoing his tie.
 
“Well, at least I can undress you,” laughed Josuke lightly-- the mischievous
glint back in his eyes-- as he set the tie with Rohan’s new tie clip safely
onto the side table.
 
With satisfaction, he saw the way Rohan’s subtle adam apple bounced in his thin
throat. Spurred on, Josuke slid one hand down the older man’s chest gingerly
until he hooked a finger into the tailored vest that hugged Rohan’s slim waist.
 
He unbuttoned the vest-- deliberately slowly-- and smiled wider when Rohan drew
his lips into a tight, embarrassed frown. Josuke could feel the heat growing
from Rohan’s cock hardening-- his suit-covered crotch was pressed firmly
against his leg.
 
Josuke ran his tongue over his upper lip hungrily and shifted his leg higher-
- until his knee pressed firmly into Rohan’s crotch. The artist hissed angrily
at the sudden stimulation, face flushing darkly.
 
Hurriedly, Rohan clicked his tongue and shrugged off his jacket and vest, then
stuffed both of his hands into the front of his pants to yank out his shirt
tails. Following the new pace, Josuke groaned appreciatively at the sight of
his smaller partner impatiently stripping, and quickly undid Rohan’s belt.
 
The older man irritably fisted the clothing he had shed and threw the items off
the bed. With the regained bed space, he uncoordinatedly dismounted Josuke’s
long limbs and pressed down into the space between the teenager’s legs, hastily
massaging an unguided hand around Josuke’s crotch. The thin fabric of the silky
boxer briefs did not dull any of Rohan’s careless groping, and Josuke barked in
surprise at the sharp feeling of Rohan’s manicured nails digging into his soft
flesh without warning.
 
Having found what he was looking for, Rohan ducked his head down to mouth at
Josuke’s half-hard erection--
 
 
Then recoiled, nose wrinkling.
 
“Did you shower?”
 
“Wha-- does it look like I showered?” gasped Josuke in disbelief, throwing his
hands out and pointing at his barely intact pompadour-- held vaguely in place
by the layers of hairspray he had coated his hairdo in earlier.
 
“You got on the clean bed with your sweaty body?”
 
“Aren’tcha dirty too…?”
 
“I am, but I wasn’t planning on putting my sticky, day-old germs on the bed.”
 
“Huh? Then how were you expecting to--”
 
“I was thinking that we could do it against the wall, or something, but
nevermind. I’ve lost interest.” Sliding off the bed, Rohan grabbed Josuke by
his wrist and urged him to stand up. “Come on, we’re going to go shower.”
 
Now it was Josuke’s turn to whine--
 
Wait…
 
We?
 
He stopped, and tilted his head quizzically as Rohan started walking out of the
bedroom-- alluringly shirtless, with his pants still open around his skinny
waist-- and towards the bathroom. “Wait, together?”
 
“Yes. Hurry up.”
 
---
 
By some means, Rohan still got his wish to have sex against a wall. The
egomaniac might actually be right in thinking that the world revolved around
him-- even though Josuke liked to prove him wrong in that regard whenever given
the change. Usually, he would giddily rebel against the pompous man-- but right
now, with three of Rohan’s long fingers pumping into him to the knuckle, Josuke
couldn’t really form any coherent thoughts other than,
 
“F-fuck.”
 
Josuke gasped, open-mouthed, as he felt Rohan’s free hand squeeze his young
partner's naked hip possessively.
 
Facing away from his lover, the teenager had his arms propped up on the shower
wall as he felt the tantalizing touch of Rohan massaging down his waist, hip,
and upper thigh mixed with the mind-numbingly, rhythmic, delectable pounding of
Rohan’s fingers against his prostate.
 
A few moments ago, Rohan had stepped out of the shower first-- saying that
Josuke took too long in the shower because it required too much damn work to
wash the hair product out of his pompadour. When the relaxed high school
student had finally finished and shut off the water, he had come face to face
with Rohan standing in the way of the shower door. The manga artist had a
bottle of lubricant in his hand, along with a smug grin.
 
That was how Josuke ended up in his position now-- elbows squeaking against the
wet shower wall tiles as he struggled to stand. He pressed his forehead to the
cold, slippery tile and tried to bite his lip to keep the sounds in. On a
particularly firm thrust, Josuke felt his hips jerk up as he mewled long and
loud-- he was making far too much noise in the freedom of a hotel room instead
of Rohan’s house in their small town as his partner finger-fucked him roughly,
but it felt so damn good.
 
He panted wetly in the thick air-- dark bangs sticking to his face--blubbering
profanities that mixed with the wet squelching sounds of Rohan pumping in and
out of him. Foggy, Josuke’s head lolled back when Rohan unhurriedly scissored
his fingers once more and held them open as he then pulled his slippery digits
out.
 
“H-how are you so fucking good at this all of a sudden?” Josuke gurgled
dizzily-- then cried out when Rohan sunk his nails into the meat of his shapely
ass.
 
“I’m good at everything,” stated Rohan, smugly.
 
Regaining himself, Josuke found the strength to scoff at Rohan’s unparalleled
self-confidence-- then moaned far too vulgarly when Rohan impulsively slapped
Josuke’s ass in response.
 
In his mind, he could hear the echo of both his moan and the slap reverberating
in the bathroom.
 
It was agonizing.
 
 
Thoroughly embarrassed, Josuke’s face was dark red when he shakily turned
around to say, “Uh-- p-pretend that didn’t happen.”
 
To his surprise, he saw Rohan standing there, staring at his hand and the
matching red mark on Josuke’s butt. Slowly, a smile emerged on the man's face.
Scared, Josuke could only find one word to describe Rohan's expression:
delighted.
 
Nervously, Josuke sucked in his lower lip and watched with wide eyes as Rohan’s
grin spread. With a flourishy waggle of his fingers, Rohan raised his hand.
 
Instinctively, the teenager looked away-- ears burning-- at the sight of Rohan
bringing his hand down. Pre-emptively, he yelped pitchily, but the spank didn’t
come. Dumbfounded, he waited -- Josuke felt the muscles in his thighs twitch
expectantly. Finally, he looked back over his shoulder with his eyebrows
knitted in confusion. Self-satisfiedly, Rohan lightly glided his knuckles
against the reddened skin of Josuke’s ass now that he had Josuke’s attention
again.
 
“Do I sense a bit of disappointment?” mocked the older man. “Did you want me to
spank you, Higashikata-kun?”
 
Unable to find words for the storm of shame, irritation, and arousal he felt-
- Josuke narrowed his eyes dangerously at Rohan. But, to be completely honest
with himself…
 
Staring the giddy man straight in the eyes, Josuke gritted through his teeth:
“I’ll let you spank me three times.” His embarrassed blush betrayed the
severity of his words, but there was little he could do about that.
 
Not expecting Josuke’s terse reply, Rohan’s confident sneer vanished instantly.
It was now Josuke’s turn to smile-- the tables were turned again. He reached
behind himself and placed Rohan’s dominant hand on his ass.
 
“Here-- you can go easy if ya think you’ll hurt yerself. Ya live and die by yer
hands, yeah?” echoed Josuke slyly, repeating what Rohan had said at the venue
hall earlier.
 
Too proud to back down from a challenge, Rohan bristled irritably even though
he was thoroughly flustered. He muttered weakly, “Tch, I’m not worried-- Crazy
Diamond can fix anything, right?” The weight of his hand on Josuke’s behind-
- which had recovered from the initial slap and no longer had red marks on it-
- was light, as if he was hesitant about resting his palm completely on
Josuke’s skin.
 
When Josuke waggled his hips, he felt his partner flinch.
 
Josuke started snickering-- something about Rohan cowering from Josuke bumping
into him with his butt in the middle of sex was too fucking hilarious.
 
“Hahaha-- ow!” his burst of laughter was cut short by a reactive swat at his
ass. Holding up his own hands in disbelief, Josuke flipped around and saw that
Rohan was just as shocked as he was. Staring at the offending appendage, the
manga artist looked at his hand as if it weren’t his own. They traded looks,
before he saw the weird, unsteady way Rohan’s jaw was set fade as he started to
laugh. Soon, they were holding onto each other, unable to stop chuckling.
 
Falling into Josuke’s strong arms, Rohan held onto his tall lover as they
slowly settled down.
 
Josuke pressed his palm against his eyes to push away the tears that had formed
from giggling, and sighed satisfiedly.
 
“How ya feelin’?” he asked warmly as he tilted Rohan’s face up towards himself.
 
They regarded each other for a second time that day. In the hazy, soft light of
the dim, steamy bathroom, Josuke's dark wet hair stuck messily to his face, and
his purple eyes radiated kindness and affection for his partner. Josuke smiled
contentedly down at the older man who he had become intimately familiar with
over the summer. Rohan’s slim face was framed gently in the handsome teenager’s
large, sturdy hands, and his damp bangs were combed back.
 
Without saying a thing, Rohan turned his head slowly and kissed the inside of
Josuke’s palm.
 
Briefly, his emerald eyes flicked towards Josuke and then away again towards
the shower floor. He said, with his lips still touching the soft skin of
Josuke’s palm, “Good,” and then-- after a few shaky breaths, “Thank you,
Josuke.”
 
Ah, there it was again.
 
His heart, thought Josuke dreamily, was--
 
Josuke leaned into Rohan and kissed him too quickly. He felt Rohan’s hands come
up and cup his own in surprise, then tighten. Slow, slow, he told himself-- he
managed slow for a few minutes, kissing tenderly with an open-mouth and no
tongue-- but when he embarrassedly tried to pull away so that he wouldn’t
smother the older man, Josuke found himself getting dragged back into the kiss.
The artist’s thin, pale arms wrapped tightly around the back of Josuke’s neck,
and Rohan licked into the tall teenager’s mouth until Josuke kissed back in
kind.
 
When Rohan captured Josuke’s plump lower lip between his teeth and pulled, the
young student grunted feverishly from the jolt of arousal and grabbed Rohan by
the chin to crush their mouths together again. They kissed, and kissed, and
kissed-- pulling apart to pant, laughing breathlessly against each other’s
skin. Rohan was still a bit unpracticed and messy, but it felt good. It felt
good when his long fingers scrubbed Josuke’s hair out of his face-- it felt
better when Rohan fisted those bangs and pulled them back, baring the muscular
teen’s thick neck.
 
“A-ahhh,” stuttered Josuke as the older man sucked a dark hickey into the skin
laid bare in front of him, and he really should have stopped him-- but he also
really didn’t want to. He could worry tomorrow about how to hide the prominent
kiss mark-- but for now, all Josuke could do was buck his hips in response to
the heated way Rohan stared at him as he sucked on the bruise.
 
His cock was hard again, and the little contact he got from rutting into
Rohan’s abs wasn’t enough-- he wanted, he needed--
 
“Fuck, c’mon, finish what ya started already,” panted Josuke against the shell
of the shorter man’s ear-- uncoordinatedly, he managed to desperately grab
Rohan’s erection and pressed it between his slippery thighs.
 
Swallowing thickly, Rohan rested his forehead against Josuke’s chest and gave a
few shallow thrusts into the seam of Josuke’s long legs. He laughed
breathlessly when Josuke whined loudly at the still minimal contact. Strong
hands stopped his hips from moving, prompting Rohan to mumble, “Testy, huh?”
against Josuke’s neck. His tall partner picked him up by the hips, wrapped
Rohan’s legs around his waist, and walked them back to the bedroom.
 
Josuke chuckled at the way Rohan defensively tightened his grip around him when
he flopped back onto the bed with the manga artist on top of him in his arms.
He was still laughing even when the smaller man smacked at his broad chest
(“Don’t you ever do that again!”).
 
“Mm, I won’t, sorry,” said Josuke between chaste kisses-- one on Rohan’s
forehead, then his cheek, then his mouth, silencing his huffy bed partner. When
he pulled back, there was still a small pout on Rohan’s face-- but the
insatiable older man perked up immediately when he saw Crazy Diamond hovering
nearby with the bottle of lube from the bathroom, pouring it into Josuke’s
outstretched hand.
 
With his free hand, Josuke held Rohan’s hip firmly in place and ground up his
own hips to meet him-- dragging his wanting hard cock up against Rohan’s now
hardening length. Playfully, he stuck his tongue out between his teeth and
relished Rohan’s small gasps from the friction between them. Josuke opened and
closed his other hand-- warming the silky liquid by rubbing it between his
thumb and fingers until it was suitably body temperature.
 
“Hey, I--”
 
“I know, I know,” interrupted Josuke with a knowing look. To quell Rohan’s
concerns about not getting to top even though-- his face said it all-- he
thought he had done all the work, Josuke slipped his wet hand between their
bodies and gave Rohan one hard, slow stroke to coat his erection in lubricant.
 
“G-guh,” was the first inelegant sound he managed to coax out of the other man,
but it was better than Rohan complaining.
 
Stiffening, Rohan pressed his hands into the mattress and careened upwards at
the tight, slow strokes. It wasn’t long before he was gasping haltingly, chest
rising and falling rapidly whenever Josuke wrapped his fingers around the
cockhead and twisted his hand off before descending back down.
 
Now it was the young student’s turn to hook his arms around Rohan’s neck,
pulling him down with a self-satisfied grin. As he gathered Rohan towards
himself, the lanky teenager spread his long legs on the bed. Their foreheads
tapped, and Josuke kissed the shuddering man above him briefly on the chin.
 
“Come on, weren’cha the one doing all the work?” he teased blithely.
 
 
Still slippery and loose from the thorough job Rohan had done earlier, Josuke
moaned roughly as the older man sheathed himself inside of him in a single easy
thrust. Grunting raggedly, Rohan slowed as he sunk in deeper-- watching with
heated eyes the way his cock disappeared into Josuke’s body as he pressed in to
the hilt. They looked at each other in muted disbelief, a crooked, uneasy smile
on the teenager’s dark red face.
 
“Shit,” laughed Josuke anxiously, turning his head to the side to pant into the
pillow that was dampened from his wet hair. He could feel the way Rohan was
looking at him-- he was studying him, more like. At first, the beautiful man’s
face was twisted in surprise and pleasure-- but curiosity took over, as the way
Josuke reacted to each deep thrust was different than the first time they had
sex like this. That time, he was overeagerly pressing into Josuke’s sizeable
thighs-- this time, every roll of his hips had him pressing his cock into his
now familiar lover’s welcoming, hot insides.
 
Rohan’s face, once again, said it all. It always made Josuke feel weird to be
eyed in such a manner though-- it was like the older man was no longer in the
present, and that he was not Rohan’s lover, but was instead his subject.
 
Josuke crossed his legs around his partner and arched into him, causing Rohan
to cry out in surprise. He met the rhythmic rocking of the man on top of him-
- moaning in time with the waves of pleasure that swept through his body as the
sweltering tingling sensations overrode his senses. Above him, Rohan whimpered
whenever Josuke would clamp around him-- his responsive body tightening as he
felt his orgasm creeping closer and closer. The sweat rolled down the
picturesque older man’s beautiful, flushed face, and the way his wet lips
caught the faint light of their dark room-- Josuke’s chest throbbed painfully.
 
The unfamiliar bed creaked as the thrusts got harder-- deeper-- and Josuke bit
the back of his hand frightfully, unable to process the throbbing crash of
emotions, feelings, and thoughts overwhelming him. He wanted to cry out-- he
felt the need welling up inside him to babble shamelessly into Rohan’s ear. To
tell him what he felt for him-- again and again, even though he had already
been rejected once.
 
Desperately, Josuke tried to refocus on something, anything, so that he
wouldn’t become a sobbing, drooling mess. He wasn’t that far gone yet to allow
that to happen.
 
“Josuke,” hoarsely whispered the usually unbearable man who was-- in this
moment-- Josuke’s. He continued pumping into the writhing body below him-- the
body that was taking everything that Rohan could give, the body of someone he
once hated with every fiber of his being. Funny how that wasn’t so long ago.
 
Seeing the tentative way Rohan licked his lips, Josuke grabbed one of the many
decorative, small pillows from the bed and pressed it into Rohan’s face.
 
“Don’t,” he said, shuddering when the other man pulled his hips back without
slipping out.
 
“W-what?”
 
“Don’t say anything,” begged Josuke, voice quavering minutely when he felt
Rohan remove his cock from his shaking body.
 
“Why not?”
 
“Yer gonna say something embarrassing, or worse yet-- something that’ll ruin
the mood.”
 
“How do you know?”
 
“I know.”

Frustrated, Rohan scrubbed a hand behind his head, before relenting. He ducked
his head and quickly thrust back in-- biting his lip at how Josuke threw his
head back to bark pleasure-filled profanities. The room was lit solely by the
one lamp that Josuke had left on when he had been watching tv earlier. It
wasn’t much, but even in the soft, shadowy light he had seen the way Rohan’s
eyes wavered momentarily. While Josuke was unable to place whatever it was that
had caused the older man to pause like that, he knew enough from the uneasy way
Rohan swallowed that he wasn’t sure if he’d like it.
 
---
 
Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what he was going to say.
 
Josuke dozed in a tangle of sheets, sprawled at an awkward angle across the bed
with no room left for Rohan to lay down. It didn’t matter anyway-- he didn’t
feel like sleeping yet. Seated on the bed with his travel sketchbook on his
lap, he mindlessly sketched the form in front of him.
 
He described-- with long, gliding lines-- the way the blankets draped across
the lanky limbs of the built teenager. He turned his drawing implement to its
side and gently carved out the dark shades streaking across the bed.
 
Sleeping facing away from the light, he couldn’t see Josuke’s face-- but in his
mind, he could. He knew that the idiot child slept with his mouth open, which
was why he’d wake up in the morning with a sticky, dry mouth. He knew that
Josuke’s thick eyebrows would dip whenever he would stir with a small noise in
his sleep.
 
He knew already, before--
 
When Josuke had hurriedly pawed at Rohan’s chest, saying, “Rohan, Rohan, slow
down-- I’m g-gonna,” and shut his eyes tightly, so tightly--
 
He had buried himself so deep into his accepting body, so deep into the other’s
chest. He had heard the rapid thumping of his oversized, overzealous,
overgenerous heart, even though they were both cursing, sobbing, and groaning
loudly against each other’s sticky, wet skin. Despite all that, the sounds of
both of their pounding hearts were the loudest to his ears.
 
He knew when Josuke had grabbed at him blindly, seeking his lips, seeking
intimacy--
 
Rohan had come shortly after Josuke, the embarrassingly loud and honest sounds
wretched out of him. He couldn’t stop though, not when Josuke (handsome, sated
Josuke, with his own ejaculate cooling on his rising and falling chest) had
smiled up at him like that-- warm, content,
 
Loving.
 
He hadn’t run-- even when the fight or flight instincts came back and set his
mind on fire-- when he allowed the teenager to lazily kiss him afterwards, a
ghost of that amorous smile on his lips.
 
He knew that Josuke liked him.
 
He recognized (knew) that he was starting to like him too.
 
Rohan shut the sketchbook in front of him and placed it on the side table. He
then laid down, with his legs still dangling off the side of the bed, and
pressed his face into Josuke’s broad back.
 
He didn’t know what to do.
***** Chapter 22 *****
Chapter Notes
     I listened to Disney music for hours while writing this.
     Hap almost birt to Alicia.
He didn’t read manga, and that was probably a mistake.
 
When Josuke walked into his class on Wednesday morning, all eyes were on him.
 
He had resumed school two days ago without incident. Even if he was back doing
the daily educational grind of subject after subject that he didn’t care about,
it felt nice to resume a regular schedule again-- mostly because he was lucky
to be in the same class as Koichi and Okuyasu. They had managed to claw
themselves out of spring semester (with the help of Koichi) as a team, and were
determined to get through fall semester together in the same way (thank god,
once again, for Koichi).
 
His two best friends made the long, droll hours of schooling bearable. Settling
back into his old routine felt comforting. While his classmates would talk
about how boring day-to-day life was, he was relieved to feel some semblance of
normalcy again.
 
Okuyasu had continued to come pick him up every morning as if they were
elementary school kids. Their daily routine included them eating breakfast
together before they started meandering over to Budogaoka High School. On the
first day of school, they had luckily caught up to Koichi on his bike at the
train tracks, and their short friend dismounted and walked the rest of the way
with them. If it hadn’t been for Josuke and Okuyasu, Koichi would have probably
arrived at school long before the gates closed.
 
Instead, he had loyally stuck to their ambling, easygoing pace, and the three
of them eventually had arrived shortly before the teachers would usually lock
up the front gates. Sometimes one of the teachers locking up would be his mom,
and as luck would have it, she was doing front gate duty on the first day of
fall semester. The ferocious but beautiful health teacher had stood out front
with a stern, wide-legged stance as she threatened to lock all three of them
out a few minutes ahead of schedule. They had to sprint-- Josuke holding the
bike and Okuyasu holding Koichi-- to get in before Tomoko had shut them out
with a snicker.
 
Two very blissful, normal days had passed by. All of the students were restless
and rowdy, still riding off the high from their summer breaks. Josuke, Okuyasu,
and Koichi turned in their homework, listened to their homeroom teacher speak
at length about how he hoped they had not wasted their vacation, and were
hounded again by other students for not signing up for after school clubs.
Okuyasu had stood up-- terrifying their shorter classmate who was trying to get
them to sign up to the baseball club-- and said that the three of them were
already in a club.
 
“The ‘Going Home’ Club?”
 
“As if! We’re the ‘Protectors of Morioh Club,’ and don’t ferget it!”
 
Josuke had laughed until his stomach hurt at the childish, superhero-like club
name Okuyasu had come up with on the fly, and Koichi shrugged sheepishly at the
classmate who looked at Okuyasu as if he were crazy.
 
Was it really too much to wish for a peaceful school year after all they had
done for the past few months to keep their small town safe?
 
Josuke savored those two peaceful, normal days. 
 
Then it was September 1st, the first Wednesday of that month. The first
Wednesday of every month was when Monthly Shounen Jump came out-- the serial
magazine that Pink Dark Boy was published in. While this and other release day
schedules were at the forefront of the minds of his classmates who were up to
date on all the latest series, it was something Josuke had been blissfully
unaware of up until today. However, Josuke was sure now that he was never going
to be able to forget what day of the week Monthly Shounen Jump came out.
 
That morning, he had been running late. He had already gotten a headstart in
slacking off for the new semester, and had spent far too long the night before
organizing his fall/winter wardrobe. Okuyasu had to climb his window with the
help of the Hand to wake him up from his dead sleep. His mom had already left
that morning-- there was an early faculty meeting for the new year. She had
left breakfast for them both in the microwave, and the two growing boys stuffed
the egg sandwiches into their mouths as they took off running.
 
Thankfully, their panicked pace-- and a few, illegal shortcuts they had taken
with the help of their stands-- let them arrive shortly after the morning
homeroom started before their teacher was even in the class. With a clatter,
they both burst into the lively classroom and were met with silence.
 
Typically, being late meant that the other students would erupt into a chorus
of playful jeers and hoots at the latecomers.
 
The quiet wall they slammed into was disturbing, to say the least.
 
“Wha’cha starin’ at?!” barked Okuyasu, “C’mon Josuke, ignore ‘em.”
 
However, when Okuyasu trudged over to his seat, the rest of the class was still
staring at Josuke, standing by the door.
 
It was probably a mistake that he didn’t read manga, cursed Josuke to himself
as Koichi came up to him and quietly handed him the latest issue of Monthly
Shounen Jump. It was turned to the page that everyone in his class had been
looking at.
 
The other mistake was probably dating Rohan.
 
There was a two-page spread about recent happenings and events within the
publishing company, and of course most prominently featured was none other than
the recipient of 1999’s Most Popular Story Award, Rohan Kishibe. The most
cringe-worthy moment of the night-- Rohan perched at the podium, leaning
forward while he called his industry equals “amateurs,” was the largest photo
on the page. However, less prominently was a smaller photo in the corner.
 
The smaller photo was of Rohan, chummily posing with-- according to the
caption-- a “high school fan from Kishibe-sensei’s hometown.” His face was
mosaiced out, but what good was it? How many teenagers from Morioh were his
height with his pompadour, after all?
 
From the other side of the classroom, Okuyasu was looking at the same spread
that a classmate had stuffed towards him.
 
“Hey, Josuke, isn’t that you? Whatterya doin’ with Rohan in Tokyo?”
 
---
 
The easiest explanation would have been to just confess (lie) that he had
always been a big fan of Pink Dark Boy, and that he was acquainted with his
manga hero, Rohan. Rohan was their local celebrity after all, and it was well
known among his classmates that the eccentric manga artist and Koichi were
familiar with each other. It would not have taken a stretch of the imagination
to say that Josuke was also friendly with Rohan Kishibe, who he had to interact
with often by association when he was hanging out with Koichi.
 
Josuke could have concocted some half-truth as to why he went with Rohan to
Tokyo instead of Koichi going-- simply saying that Yukako didn’t want her
boyfriend to go would have been enough to quell the curiosity of his classmates
who had grown used to the famously overly affectionate couple and Yukako’s
possessive tendencies. He even had time to think of more excuses-- their
homeroom teacher who was delayed by the morning faculty meaning had come in
before his classmates could drown Josuke in questions. When their teacher
popped his head into the classroom with a genial smile and an apology, the
students all had to hide their manga into the usual spots and swallow their
gossip-y inquiries until the next break.
 
There were so many ways that Josuke could have done damage control on the
situation, but all chances of that went out the window as soon as his mother
threw open the classroom door right after their 15-minute morning routine had
ended. Tucked under her arm, of course, was Monthly Shounen Jump.
 
“Mom--” he started to say, but stopped immediately when he saw the fire burning
in her eyes. Everyone in the classroom stood up straighter immediately in the
health teacher's powerful presence.
 
Remembering herself, she politely greeted Josuke’s homeroom teacher and said
she was taking Josuke home immediately. He knew better than to ask Tomoko about
who was taking care of her own homeroom class, knowing that she had probably
already arranged something and that the unnecessary question would hit a wrong
note with her. Josuke scrambled to get his things together and scurried into
the hallway where she was waiting for him.
 
He looked over his shoulder to see the worried faces of Koichi and Okuyasu,
then silently trudged behind his mother.
 
There was no room for discussion until they were home. His mom hailed a cab as
soon as they got to the front of the school-- as if her powerful presence could
psychically summon one at will without the help of a cell phone-- and loaded
her son into the car before she sat down tensely. When she stared out the
window the entire way, Josuke saw the way her hands shook.
 
He shrunk in his seat, face hot with guilt. If there was one thing he didn’t
want to come out of his foray into whatever it was he had with Rohan, it was
hurting his mom. Wringing his hands rigidly in his lap, Josuke hung his head
with shame.
 
Finally in the privacy of their home, Tomoko sat at the dining table and tapped
her nails on the table at the space adjacent to her. Obediently, Josuke sat.
 
The magazine that she had confiscated from one of her homeroom students was
placed on the table, and Josuke's youthful mother’s forehead creased deeply as
she searched for what to say. Unable to find somewhere to start, Tomoko stood
up and poured them two glasses of water. Josuke clambered to reach across the
table and set down two crystal coasters from the decorative set they had. She
set the glasses down on them and then seated herself again.
 
Tomoko crossed her legs, then folded her hands on the table. The bracelet he
had purchased for her with earnings from Rohan was on her slim, left wrist. She
took a deep breath.
 
“Josuke,” she began, jaw tight, “Why were you in Tokyo last week instead of
Koichi’s, where you said you would be?”
 
Fuck, there was no running from this. Josuke didn’t have the right to run
anyway, he scolded himself internally. He had been sneaking around behind his
mom’s back, betraying her trust, and lying to her. Tomoko had every right to be
furious with him, and the least he owed her was the truth. He squirmed in
place-- her eyes were calm, but he could see the fear and anger brewing behind
the cool facade.
 
“I… was on a date,” shakily, he admitted. The tips of his ears were red.
 
“A date with?”
 
“Rohan Kishibe.”
 
Tomoko pressed a knuckle to her lips, eyebrows furrowing. She closed her eyes,
and Josuke knew she was counting internally to try to keep her temper down.
 
“What is your relationship with Rohan Kishibe?” she asked.
 
Nervously, Josuke picked up the glass of water and took a sip.
 
“I-- I don’t know.”
 
It was the truth.
 
He flinched when his mom gently placed her smaller hand on top of his, and gave
him a reassuring squeeze. When he was able to make himself look up, her dark
brown eyes stared unwaveringly at him with pain, concern and love.
 
“Tell me.”
 
---
 
It didn’t sound good in his head, and it sounded worse when said out loud.
However, his mother listened the whole time-- nodding understandingly with a
cigarette in her hand. She didn’t smoke much these days-- not after grandpa had
passed-- but Tomoko needed something to do with her anxious energy. Even as she
tapped the lit cigarette on the ashtray, her fingers trembled unevenly.
 
Josuke, age 16, was in a sexual relationship with Rohan Kishibe, age 20. They
were dating, sort of. He wasn’t sure, because Rohan himself wasn’t sure either.
Rohan didn’t pay him for sex-- Josuke had hurriedly clarified that right after
he had said that Rohan did compensate him for the time they spent together.
Tomoko's jaw tightened-- her face straining minutely as she tried to keep an
even expression. It made Josuke want to disappear, but he owed his mother the
truth. With a deep breath, he continued. Rohan didn't pay him for sex-- but he
paid him for other things-- like modelling. It was, well-- kind of like-- but
not really, um--
 
He sighed, scrubbing his hand across his burning face.
 
Compensated dating. That’s what it sounded like. That’s what it probably was
too, to some extent.
 
She had him haul out everything that he had purchased with Rohan’s money or
received as gifts (Josuke thanked the heavens that the sex toys had been
relocated to Rohan’s house the day after they had arrived, as he would not be
able to look his mother in the eye ever again if she knew about those), and all
the cash and checks he had stashed. She pulled out black trash bags and stuffed
everything inside, including the bracelet off of her wrist. Josuke sat on his
hands in the living room after having been given express instructions to not do
anything. He watched his strong, willful mother carry bag after bag from his
room on the second-floor into the garage without saying a word.
 
Once that was done, she tucked a few sweaty strands of hair behind her ear and
said, “I’ll take care of those things properly later.”
 
Finally, he handed over the cell phone when they were back in the kitchen.
Tomoko put her second cigarette out in the ashtray and looked at the call
history. The majority of the calls in the log were received from Rohan’s number
instead of the other way around.
 
“Mom… yer not mad at me?” whispered Josuke, head down.
 
Unexpectedly, Tomoko laughed-- there was a minute, bitter edge to it. She slid
close to her son and hugged him, then pinched his ear tightly.
 
“O-ow! Mom! ‘m being serious here!” he wailed, sitting back and nursing his
throbbing ear.
 
“I’m mad, but not at you,” coolly explained his mother as she spun the
cellphone on the dining table absently, looking down with a remorseful smile,
“You may be a brash idiot, but-- this isn’t your fault.”
 
This was wrong.
 
“Mom, don’t blame yourself,” Josuke pleaded quietly.
 
She narrowed her eyes and stopped the spinning phone on the table.
 
“I’m going to call him, Josuke, and I’m going to talk to him-- adult to adult.”
 
He swallowed carefully, and nodded.
 
“Do you want to be in the room when I call him?”


“No.”
 
“Okay.”
 
She kissed his cheek, and Josuke went to the living room and turned on the TV.
 
---
 
Ring a ling a ling! Ring a ling a ling!
 
With his travel sketchbook in front of him, Rohan was busily fleshing out the
drafts for the next three issues that he had scribbled out on the train ride to
Tokyo. With large pieces of drafting paper clipped to his drawing board and a
trusty hand-sharpened pencil, he revised the pacing of the work extensively.
There was so much polishing that needed to be done. When he had initially drawn
the first drafts, he was in a subpar mood-- the work clearly reflected the
incomprehensible storm of emotions that had clouded his mind as he had
scribbled away on the long train journey.
 
Ring a ling a ling! Ring a ling a ling!
 
While the roughs were still usable, most of the thumbnails had to be redrawn
completely to ensure proper storytelling.
 
To fashion the first draft into a coherent story was going to be quite the
undertaking, and-- 
 
Ring a ling a ling! Ring a ling a ling!
 
Ugh.
 
It wasn’t the time for Josuke to be calling him. He let the phone go to
voicemail thrice before Rohan was able to find a good place to stop working
momentarily. Though by stop, he meant sit up to review his rewrites with the
phone cradled between his head and shoulder, instead of staying bent over his
table drawing feverishly. Tucking his pencil behind his ear under his headband,
he held the travel sketchbook in his left-hand to reread it for the umpteenth
time with his new notes. His right-hand pressed the call receive button.
 
“What?” stated Rohan flatly. His brain felt itchy. What was the purpose of this
scene that he had pencilled on the train that had the maid running away from
the antagonist? Didn’t he already establish tha--
 
“Hello, is this Rohan Kishibe?”
 
He paused.
 
Instead of hearing Josuke’s signature lazy, slurring way of talking, the voice
on the other end of the line was that of a woman. Her voice was not quite
youthful-- from the succinct way she had spoken to him, Rohan could tell that
she must be an accomplished, confident, and independent woman in her mid-
thirties.
 
Interesting.
 
Rohan put his sketches down and cleared his throat.
 
“Yes, this is Rohan Kishibe. Who am I speaking with, please?”
 
“Tomoko Higashikata, Josuke Higashikata’s mom.”
 
Ah, thought so. From the ten words she had robustly, unwaveringly said to him,
it was clear that Tomoko was a headstrong woman-- Josuke must have gotten his
stubbornness from his mother.
 
“Good Morning, Higashikata-san. This is quite unexpected. What can I do for
you, today?”
 
“Let me get straight to the point-- what is my son to you?”
 
“He’s my assistant,” stated Rohan matter-of-factly.
 
“...Is he anything else to you?”
 
Oh, hmm.
 
Well, that was a much harder question to answer.
 
His mind drew a blank.
 
What was Josuke to him, these days? He hadn’t made much headway in regards to
figuring out what they were after they came back from Tokyo. Honestly, he had
tried to make some sense of it during the remainder of the time they had spent
together for their first date-- but the more Rohan tried to comprehend the
flutter in his stomach when Josuke so much as looked at him, the more the
overworked man's already painful migraine grew in intensity. 
 
It did not help that time-- a scarce resource in his life-- was a luxury he
simply did not have. Rohan had to make the executive decision to put his
relationship talk with Josuke into the backpocket once their miniature date-
slash-vacation together was over so that he could focus his waking hours into
creating a healthy stockpile of issues to submit to his publishers in advance.
The anime adaptation was still a very real, looming threat. He had to prepare
for the possibility that he would be pulled away from his true calling of
drawing manga to battle the wretched derivation of his life's work into
submission before it sullied his masterpiece for good.
 
His manga was his life.
 
Far-too-kind Josuke would understand that Rohan had already put in a solid
effort in thinking over their arrangement, after all. He truly did, in his
humble opinion, a commendable and gracious job in petering out some instances
from his very Important and Busy life to dissect his feelings for the
affectionate teenager that had become an integral part of not only his vague
personal life, but also his professional career. The amount of effort he had
put in was probably good enough to delay a deep (time-consuming) discussion
about their purported relationship, right?
 
When they were traipsing around Tokyo together in their disguises (floppy large
hat instead of a headband on Rohan, and a beanie on Josuke that hid his
pompadour), Rohan realized with disgusted alarm that sometimes Josuke was able
to draw the artist into the moment enough that he would forget about his manga.
Like when the lanky teenager had stumbled on the uneven, narrow paths in
Harajuku and accidentally pushed his sweet crepe into Rohan’s face. Yeah, the
crepe had ruined Rohan's carefully applied makeup, but the way the teenager had
laugh-cried at the accident was-- charming.
 
By some miracle, Josuke had somehow become second to Koichi when it came to
making Rohan smile. Rohan hated smiling that much-- it made his cheeks ache.
 
Later, another unwelcome warm feeling had spread inside of Rohan. Josuke had
stepped back with a cheeky grin while Rohan was gawking loudly at a tacky, wire
ring that the rambunctious teenager had slipped into the man's coat
pocket. They had been walking closely together in Shibuya. With a cheeky grin,
Josuke turned around and held his hand up near his face-- brandishing his own
matching wire ring in the fading sunlight of the early evening. The gesture
immediately shut Rohan up, and the embarrassed man's face burned when he
noticed which finger Josuke had slipped the thin band on.
 
He had been wearing it on his right hand's ring finger.
 
Fuck.
 
That warm feeling twisted him up inside, and Rohan had gripped his chest
painfully--grateful that the setting sun hid how heavily he was blushing from
the teenager's sly antics. His immediate instinct was to curse Josuke for
taking such a cheap shot. It wasn't fair. How did such a simple, fucking
gesture reduce the older man into a sweaty, nervous wreck? It should have been
Josuke swooning like a lovesick teenager-- because that's exactly what the
young stand user was, right?
 
It didn’t make sense to him.
 
“Hello?”
 
Right, he was on the phone with someone-- that someone being the lovesick
teenager’s mother, he reminded himself.
 
“Pardon, what was the question again?”
 
“Are you serious?” Clearly, her patience was running thin. “Fine, let me ask
you this: What are your intentions with my son, then?”
 
Easy, that would be: “My intention is to have Josuke continue to help me with
my manga.”
 
“If that is the case, what about the other activities you have been engaging
with him? What were your intentions there?”


“I... don’t know.”
 
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
 
Rohan jumped back at his phone-- he never knew a human being could snarl like
that. Alarmed, he was hesitant to bring the phone back to his ear.
 
“Excuse me?” he asked, dumbly. What was her problem? He was telling her the
truth, yet here this stranger woman was getting mad at him. If anything, what
did it matter what he thought of Josuke? Whatever they had going on was between
them, and it was clearly mutually beneficial somehow.
 
“Jesus, I was thinking that you-- the twenty-year-old-- would have this better
figured out than my kid, but it appears that’s not the case,” growled Tomoko
unflinchingly, having dropped every ounce of polite congeniality from her
voice. “Josuke is a hot-blooded idiot that rushes headfirst into everything in
life, alright? This only child of mine lives by his heart, not his brain. If
you don’t have any good intentions with my son, then you are not to see him
anymore, got that?”


“Why?” Her reaction didn’t make sense. Wasn’t he, the great manga artist Rohan
Kishibe, graciously giving her child everything he wanted? Over the past few
weeks, he had been more than accommodating with the young stand user.
 
“What do you mean, 'Why?' What are you, dense?” scoffed Tomoko, the volume of
her voice steadily rising.
 
Why would she attack him for showing her son the world? Unless... 
 
“Ma’am, are you perhaps speaking out of your own experience?” mused Rohan
outloud. After all, he’s heard the gossip around town in regard to the
Higashikatas.
 
“Mind your own damn business, and don't change the subject, asshole.”
 
Her rage, her emotions--
 
Rohan pulled his sketchbook close to himself, and started to sketch hungrily.
It was all starting to fall into place. Of course, of course, her fury was not
for Josuke, but was for herself.
 
“I’ve heard about you-- the single mother with the fatherless child, who had
fallen deeply in love with a foreigner who had left her behind to rejoin his
real family. Nevertheless, the scorned woman spent the rest of her life waiting
for her dashing true love to return to her.”
 
“How dare you--”
 
“Are you worried that the same will happen with your son? That he’ll fall
deeply in love, and then be left behind?”
 
“No,” spat Tomoko with finality.
 
“Then what--”
 
“My misguided son has already fallen in love with you, you ass. Also, fuck you
and your smug, armchair psychology. You don’t know me, and you definitely don’t
know my son if you don’t see how you’re hurting him. In fact, you're fucking
unaware enough that you don’t even know anything about what you want for
yourself, either, huh? You have no business being involved with anyone-
- especially my son.”
 
Who, me? Scoffing, Rohan pressed a hand against his chest in the quiet of his
study and grimaced. If anything, the way she was reacting proved him right! He
knew exactly what he wanted, which was for Josuke to stay in his life--
 
“Higashikata-san--”
 
“Grow up a little first, and then maybe you’d be ready for a relationship
someday, brat. But until you get your own shit figured out, you stay away from
my son. Oh, and fuck you.”
 
Slam!
 
She had hung up on him.
 
---
 
“He’s an ass,” concluded Tomoko as she flopped down onto the couch next to
Josuke who had been stewing with guilt in front of the TV. Steaming mad, Tomoko
blew her bangs out of her face. She pressed a cold soda into Josuke’s lap, and
then opened a can of iced tea for herself.
 
Josuke rotated the unopened drink in his hands. From the bits and pieces he
could hear from where he sat in the living room, it did not sound like the talk
between Rohan and his mother went well.
 
After chugging her drink, Tomoko put the can down on the table and sat back,
staring up at the ceiling irritably.
 
“He has the emotional and mental comprehension of a junior high school kid, I
tell ya. There’s a reason why I’m teaching high schoolers and not little
twelve-year-olds, yanno?” concluded Tomoko eventually. She turned her head to
the side to look at her son tiredly. Despite his large size, he had somehow
shrunk into himself-- Josuke was hunched over with his knees tucked up to his
chin, a pillow nestled tightly between his chest and folded legs.
 
Tomoko's eyes softened. She patiently waited for Josuke to break the silence.
 
 
 
Eventually, her son leaned into her, eyes cast downwards with shame.
 
“I’m sorry for lying to you, mom. I shouldn’t have.”
 
Tomoko put an arm around him.
 
“You’re still not off the hook, yanno, when it comes to the lying.”
 
Josuke nodded, his head buried into his mother’s chest as he sniffed
regretfully. She stroked his upper arm before continuing, “With the compensated
dating-- well, that’s not your fault. As an adult, he shouldn’t take advantage
of you like that.”
 
“What’d you talk about?”
 
“Basically that he has no business being anywhere near you until he gets
himself figured out first. With his current developmental pace, that probably
won’t be for a looong time,” she said scornfully. Josuke snorted in turn-- he
couldn’t help but agree.
 
His mom tightened her hug and looked at the teenager with a softened
expression. “How are you feeling, though? Do you want to talk about it?”
 
“I don’t know-- right now, I mostly feel bad ‘cause I hurt you, and ‘cause ya
had to find out this way.”
 
“Don’t worry about me. Your tough mom has been through worse,” she quipped,
swinging her fist with a wink. “Tell me, Josuke, what about you?”
 
“I… I guess I just--”
 
Knock knock!
 
They both looked up at the front door. Usually at this time, both Josuke and
Tomoko would be at school. Who would visit them during a time when they
wouldn’t be home, then? Everyone in this town knew each other, after all. There
was no way a family friend or any other person from their small, intimate
community would mistake this as a good time to seek them out.
 
Cautious, Josuke followed his mom to the front hallway-- Crazy Diamond at the
ready behind him.
 
She looked through the peephole and scowled.
 
“Who is it?” he asked.
 
Tomoko crossed her arms and yelled, “What do you want, Rohan?”
 
“I’ve driven over here to talk to you in-person, Higashikata-san! Could you
please grant me a moment of your time?”
 
Skeptically, Tomoko made a face and looked over her shoulder at Josuke. She
shrugged, as if saying, “Well?”
 
Josuke nodded-- he was legitimately very curious as to how Rohan was going to
recover after his mom hung up on him while yelling “fuck you.” On his mom’s
cue, Josuke rounded the corner out of sight-- but within earshot.
 
He heard Tomoko mutter, “This’ll be good,” before undoing the two locks for
their front door. Less than a beat later, Josuke’s mom let out a startled, “Oh
my god,” as soon as she opened the door.
 
Peeking around the corner, Josuke was not expecting to see Rohan dressed in a
plain, black suit kneeling on the ground at his front door.
 
“Please, Higashikata-san, I’m here to ask for your permission to grant me your
son’s hand in marriage.”
***** Chapter 23 *****
Chapter Notes
     Pray for Rohan.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Silence.



Josuke took one step forward, then another. He walked slowly, each step feeling
heavier than the last. The distance from his hiding spot to the entryway of his
house was not far, but still it stretched out in his mind for miles.
 
His mother leaned coolly against the wall of her home with her arms crossed
tightly across her stomach, then raised a sculpted eyebrow at the sight in
front of her: the famous local celebrity, manga artist Rohan Kishibe, was in a
suit, kneeling on the ground with his hands in front of him to ask for
permission to marry her son.
 
Finally, Josuke was standing right in front of the man who he spent his summer
with.
 
The artist looked up from his deep kneel and stared at his young assistant,
unsmiling and serious.
 
This strange, strange man who the teen had thought he was starting to
understand--
 
“Josuke,” the man started to say.
 
“Get up.”
 
Cautiously-- as if the fucker suddenly had the gall to remember his manners
despite how he had treated Tomoko earlier over the phone-- Rohan glanced at the
head of the house for permission to rise up. She snorted, then flicked her chin
to indicate she was allowing it.
 
When Rohan got up to stand properly, he faced the tall teenager and a dazzling
smile broke out across his handsome face.
 
Josuke’s tightly clenched fist trembled, and he took a shuddering, deep breath
before he said, “Feelin’ pretty good about yerself, huh?”
 
Rohan’s self-satisfied grin fell.
 
“What do you mean, Josuke?”
 
He had been keeping his gaze low-- too angry to let himself look the smug man
directly in the eyes-- but he lifted his head now. Josuke’s severe expression
was dark-- dangerous energy sparked between the two partners once the tall
teenager slowly drew his glare up at Rohan.
 
“Don’t fuck with me-- how goddamn thick are you? Didja really think pulling
some shit like this would just make all yer stupid fucking problems go away?”
 
The shorter man pulled back at the string of curses, unnerved, but then stepped
forward towards the shaking teen in front of him with genuine curiosity. His
slight hand reached out, but Josuke stepped back with a staggering jolt of his
upper body.
 
“Josuke, what are you talkin--”
 
“No, don’t touch me. I see now, more than ever, that yer so fucking out of
touch with reality that you don’t even-- y-you don’t even realize when yer
hurting others, huh? Or you-- you recognize it, but it’s like I’m not even real
to you,or somethin’... It doesn’t reach you, because you’re so stuck in your
own head all the time.”
 
Gaze steady, the shorter man’s perfect brow twitched minutely. Offended, Rohan
crossed his arms and tilted his head, scowling with confusion.
 
Fuck, Rohan really was hopeless, huh?
 
Josuke clicked his tongue bitterly, casting his gaze downwards again, this time
in disgust.
 
This was how it was going to be, then.
 
“Be honest-- why do you want to marry me?”
 
“Why? Well, of course it’s because I l--”
 
“I said, be honest,” demanded the aggravated Joestar with a warning snarl-- the
bitter taste was growing in his mouth.
 
At that, Rohan paled and immediately shrunk back from the tall teenager who was
now stepping forward into his space.
 
Josuke swallowed thickly, feeling angry tears welling up.
 
Uneasily, the failure of an adult in front of him looked away and shuffled his
feet quietly. Emotions flickered across his face as he struggled to find an
answer.
 
“You… you know why.”
 
The skinny man looked so small, suddenly-- a pang of guilt hit Josuke in his
gut at the troubled and anxious way Rohan twisted his thin hands together in
front of himself in his black suit. If he had been wearing his suit with his
usual haughty charisma, he would have looked glamorous-- however, in the
entryway of a small town’s suburban family home, Rohan looked ridiculous and
out of place.
 
However, this had to be done.
 
“If,” started the defeated student, who had to take a moment to himself to stop
the jittery noise in his throat, “If the reason why I think you want to keep me
in yer life is the real reason, then there’s really no hope left for-- for us.”
 
More silence-- Rohan continued to twist his pale hands.


His inaction was infuriating.
 
Before Josuke realized, he was unloading everything in a hurried torrent of
anguish.
 
“Fine, if you want me to do all the talking, I’ll do it. You don’t want to
marry me -- you don’t fucking want anything in life other than to work on your
manga! Great! Work on your manga! I get that you’ll do anything for manga, but
don’t fucking use people-- don’t fucking use me-- for your pursuit of art or
whatever noble and pretentious excuse you fucking try to justify your shitty
and selfish behavior as. Don’t you fucking dare try to keep me around just
because I make it easier for you to make your manga and disguise it as-- as
affection, or marriage, or--”
 
“Josuke--” Rohan tried to say with a regretful tinge to his usually smooth
voice, but he couldn’t get more than a word in as his shaken assistant
continued to rant as the turmoil overtook him.
 
“And that too! Whaddaya think people even get married fer, Rohan? Do you not
understand how goddamn insulting it is that this is yer ploy? The worst part
might even be that you look genuinely fucking shocked that I’m not flattered by
you showing up in a goddamn suit to play nice with my mom even after you
disrespected her on the phone not even an hour ago! No wait, the worst part is
still that yer literally trying to make me stick around so that you can draw
manga easier.”
 
Sniffling resentfully, Josuke swiped the back of his hand over his nose and
blinked away the hot tears from his eyes. The shame swept over him again-- the
utter magnitude of the mess he was in with this socially maladjusted manchild
that he had somehow, miraculously, regretfully developed feelings for felt even
more horrible when voiced.
 
Rohan’s voice cracked when he finally spoke again.
 
“...You’re not only good for manga,” he said, hesitantly, in hushed tones.
 
“What the fuck?”
 
“No-- that’s not what I mean, what I mean is-- shit…”
 
The smaller man shuffled in place again. He slipped a hand around the back of
his neck, separating the hot collar of the suit off of his balmy skin as he
stalled.
 
“Rohan, please leave.”
 
“What I want to say is that you’re good for--”
 
“Rohan, I don’t fucking care what I’m good for in yer life anymore-- I care
about what’s good for my life, and clearly that’s not you if ya can’t even be
honest with me let alone even yerself at this moment where I need ya to be
honest. So please, do a selfless thing fer once in yer life and leave.”
 
(The guilt burned him again-- Rohan had done countless selfless things for not
only Josuke, but also for his friends, his family, and his town-- but right
now, he just wanted him out. Please, please, please just get out, please.)
 
“Josuke, you’re being difficult--”
 
He felt the familiar touch of Rohan’s small hand around his wrist, and pulled
his arm back with a snap.
 
“Leave.”
 
Yet Rohan stayed, visibly fighting with himself to figure out what to do in the
short moments before he would be inevitably thrown out. He was biting his lower
lip hard enough that it bled-- Rohan’s slender jaw and neck were clenched
tightly with distressed energy. The manga artist’s face was that of desperation
as his thin body wavered in front of his former partner.
 
Still-- despite everything-- Rohan did not (could not) say anything.
 
Was it pride, thought Josuke miserably, that prevented this sad, pathetic man
from being able to say what he wanted to say in these final moments? Or was it
that this mess of an adult truly could not understand and find words to explain
why he was trying to keep Josuke by his side?
 
Either way, it still led to what was now a painfully obvious conclusion that
made the exhausted teenager feel foolish for even embarking on this weird
arrangement he had with Rohan in the first place.
 
Tomoko was right. Rohan wasn’t emotionally capable enough to be in a
relationship-- he really had no business being involved with anyone.



After several more tense seconds passed, the infuriated and brokenhearted
teenager threw his head to the side with an embarrassed grunt, not wanting his
former partner to see the angry tears rolling down his face.
 
Defeated, there was nothing more Rohan could do but turn around and go. Except
that despicable man wasn’t fucking done, apparently, and spun around (“Fucking
listen to me, Josuke, this isn’t how I meant for this--”) after he had already
placed his hand on the door knob to--
 
To do what, exactly?
 
He would never know.
 
Smack!
 
Tomoko had intercepted-- one hand seated firmly (protectively) on Josuke’s
strong chest and the other hand hung in the air, stinging from the slap across
Rohan’s face.
 
Flabbergasted, Josuke dropped the arm he had pulled back in preparation to
punch the older man with and saw the red mark of his mom’s small hand slowly
appearing on Rohan’s pale cheek.
 
“I’m asking you to leave my home, Rohan Kishibe,” she growled through gritted
teeth.
 
To emphasize her request, Josuke’s intimidating mother bodily directed the
shocked man to the door again. Despite her petite height, she blocked Rohan
from being able to circle back and look at Josuke again-- who was now hurriedly
wiping his uniform’s sleeves across his wet face-- and locked the door behind
him as soon as his body was pushed past the door frame.
 
---
 
Pink Dark Boy went on hiatus.
 
This was something that Josuke had heard from, well, everyone at school. For
normal high schoolers, there wasn’t much to talk about outside of club
activities, what’s on TV, and what happened in the latest serials.
 
(Absently, he counted back to the number of issues he remembered seeing Rohan
work on in advance of the publishing schedule. If Pink Dark Boy went on hiatus
three months after their Tokyo trip, that meant that Rohan hadn’t drawn
anything new since Tokyo--
 
Well, whatever.)
 
His classmates had bought the cover story that Echoes helped distribute
throughout their high school-- that Josuke had gone to Tokyo because Koichi
couldn’t go, and that his mom had gotten mad at him for lying about it so that
he could go party it up like a celebrity in Tokyo-- and flanked around their
little group to ask if they knew why Rohan was taking a break from drawing
again. Eternally polite and pleasant, Koichi was used to gently telling
classmates that he didn’t know what was happening in Pink Dark Boy despite
always being seen around town with local celebrity Rohan Kishibe.
 
Now that his classmates had drawn a connection between Kishibe-sensei and
Josuke though, he was a new target for them to try to pry spoilers and inside
info from.
 
Last time a hiatus had happened, his classmates explained, it was easy to
figure out why because the entire town had seen the thick smoke clouds from
Rohan’s house going up in flames. Except this time it made no sense-- manga
artists took hiatuses fairly regularly, but Kishibe-sensei was known for always
delivering content! This was only his second hiatus ever, there must be some
special reason, right? Was he working on some sort of big project? Was he
moving his manga to a different publisher? What could it possibly be?
 
Josuke shrugged and told anyone who asked that he had no idea why.
 
“Aren’t you close with Kishibe-sensei, though?”

---



“All these fucking questions are putting me in a bad mood! I’m ditching,”
decided Josuke with an irritated huff as he threw the wrapper from his sandwich
into a trashcan by the school’s pool.
 
The three teenagers were leaning against the equipment shack within the
confines of the chain link fence around them, shielded from the brisk winter
winds and hopefully from the sight of more of their roaming, curious
classmates. The pool was covered up as it wasn’t used during the colder months-
- the dark, thick material was partially obscured by the orange and yellow
dried leaves collecting on top of it.
 
They had to go all the way out to the edge of campus to avoid the diehard Pink
Dark Boy fans that had been pestering Koichi and him nonstop, but their
determined classmates still managed to find them.
 
“Josuke, you haven’t ditched once since we started up school again. You can’t
start up again now!” objected his short friend as he finished his handmade
lunch by Yukako. While she was now a fairly regular part of their lunch group,
she was nowhere to be seen today due to her responsibilities from her own
class.
 
Koichi was right, as per usual. Regardless, the tall teen couldn’t take it
anymore-- his ears picked up the sound of some more students approaching their
hiding spot-- and said his goodbyes to his friends before he hurriedly took
off.
 
(Thankfully, he was able to convince Okuyasu to finish the school day in his
stead with Koichi before he started jogging towards the school’s fence-- Josuke
loved his best friend, but that guy wasn’t kidding when he said his head wasn’t
so good. It’d be many times harder for the scarred boy to catch up on missed
material than for Josuke.)
 
With his long limbs and strong body, he easily climbed and hopped over the
cement wall that kept the students on the school grounds and then jogged a few
blocks before he felt there was enough distance between him and the school to
catch his breath.
 
Meandering down the sloped streets away from his high school, Josuke irritably
tightened the thick scarf around his neck and hunched his shoulders up to
shield his face from the brisk wind. He was slouching, but there was no one
around to tell him to straighten up so he didn’t bother. It was a little after
lunchtime for most places, so the streets were pretty empty other than a few
folks rushing to get back to their office.
 
It was early December, which meant Morioh was quite chilly, but they wouldn’t
see the small amount of snow that the small town got every year till around
late December or early January. 3°C wasn’t anything to bat an eye at, though,
considered Josuke as he looked at his breaths forming in the chilly air.
 
He could go home where it’d be nice and warm, but he knew that he’d just stew
angrily in bed until his mom came home. Plus, she’d probably figure out he had
been ditching if the entire house was toasty from him running the heater. It’d
be better for him to find somewhere else as his shelter to wait out the rest of
the day. But where?
 
Truthfully, he’d been blowing whatever cash he retained from his services to
Rohan-- he thought distastefully-- at the arcade with his friends, so he’d
rather not go back there so soon.
 
The day after his mom had forcibly dragged him home to discuss his Tokyo trip,
Josuke had come clean to his friends while they had an afterschool snack about
why Josuke had snuck off to Tokyo with Rohan. Well, Koichi (and Yukako) had
already known-- but Okuyasu’s jaw had dropped.
 
To minimize his already immobilizing embarrassment, Josuke had told his friends
a very heavily censored version of the events that had transpired while they
quietly sipped their refreshments at their usual cafe. He was glad that he did-
- Okuyasu’s wildly expressive face had bounced elastically from one emotion to
another as he listened fixedly to the young Joestar’s retelling of his summer-
long relationship with Koichi’s so-called best friend.
 
The mood had been heavy afterwards as the loyal-to-a-fault teen muttered
angrily under his breath. Not wanting the situation to becoming messier than it
already was, Josuke had leapt forward to hug his rowdy friend around the waist
to tug Okuyasu back down when he had suddenly stood up and announced he was
gonna deliver a knuckle sandwich to the manga artist. The other patrons at the
cafe had gone quiet from the outburst, and Koichi had then stood up to
apologize as part of damage control.
 
Josuke had insisted that Rohan had already been humiliated enough by the verbal
and physical smackdown Tomoko had delivered, and pleaded for his friends to
consider a more fun way to get vengeance. After all, nothing could be sweeter
than burning through what was left of Rohan’s hard-earned cash that Josuke had
found around his room during his second sweep to rid his life of Rohan’s
existence, right?
 
Begrudgingly, Okuyasu had allowed himself to be dragged back down to his seat
at Cafe Deux Magots, then stared unfalteringly into Josuke’s eyes before bodily
dragging his friend into his big chest for a tight hug. Koichi had soon joined
the hug, and the three boys paid for their bill with Rohan’s money before
heading off to Tonio’s to have a grand dinner.
 
With nowhere to go on a frigid afternoon, the troubled teenager walked
aimlessly around the familiar city with his cold hands shoved deep into his
pockets for warmth.
 
It wasn’t people asking him about Rohan’s hiatus that pissed him off the most-
- it was how people acted like Josuke could do something about Rohan’s hiatus.
 
If the last time they had interacted was any indication of the power his
classmates thought Josuke had over the artist, Josuke had zero ability to make
Rohan do anything.
 
Still--
 
All Rohan did in his life was draw manga. How could he possibly take a hiatus?
After all, Josuke working for the artist only allowed Rohan to draw more manga
than before-- it’s not like he had any issues before hiring Josuke with
delivering his work on time.
 
There was definitely, absolutely no way the workaholic manga artist would stop
doing the one activity he apparently enjoyed over anything else in his life
just because he no longer had an assistant to help him.
 
Not to mention-- if Rohan wasn't drawing manga, what else could he possibly be
doing? Maybe he was back in Tokyo working on his side projects.
 
In his mind, Josuke could easily see Rohan pitifully sulking face down on the
floor of his workroom. That seemed like a more likely possibility, especially
since the huffy but passionate artist had expressed many times that if his
publishing company got in the way of his publishing schedule then he would
rather die than be unable to draw manga.
 
A draft from a car driving past him took Josuke out of his thoughts and
reminded him that it wasn’t getting any warmer. He couldn't loiter outside much
longer without catching a cold. Shivering, Josuke pulled his chilly fingers out
of his pockets and blew on them. Somehow, his aimless wandering had fortunately
brought him to the street Cafe Deux Magots was on. Perhaps a hot cup of coffee
could restore feeling to his numb digits, and he could kill some time in the
cozy, warm shop.
 
Well, even if what had happened with Josuke had impacted Rohan somehow-- it
still wasn’t his fault if Rohan’s manga was on hiatus.
 
Distracted with the troubling thoughts muddling his mind, it wasn’t until after
he had dazedly ordered his favorite drink on autopilot and found a seat that
Josuke startled out of his stupor from the deep rumble of a familiar voice. The
bewildered student realized that he had sat at an occupied table. The masculine
and booming voice he had heard matched an imposingly broad and powerful body
that had been seated, completely unnoticed by Josuke, across from him.
 
His nephew, Dr. Jotaro Kujo, coolly looked straight into his uncle’s eyes under
the brim of his white hat. In front of the marine biology researcher was a
spread of academic papers-- the documents had portions highlighted and marked
out.
 
“Your bag is on my thesis,” repeated his humongous nephew gruffly.
 
“O-oh!” startled Josuke before he snatched his schoolbag off of the thick
manila folder while stuttering his apology. Uneasy, the teen held his bag
tightly against his stomach-- unsure what to do next.
 
Silently, Jotaro stretched out his neck tiredly and pulled his heavy sleeve
back to look at the expensive watch that looked comically small on his thick
wrist. He sighed wearily, before asking,
 
“Shouldn’t you be at school?”
 
Gulp.
 
A waitress came by and put Josuke’s latte with extra whipped cream in front of
the teenager, then politely excused herself when Jotaro motioned that they did
not need anything else at the moment.
 
“I, uh, w-well,” mumbled the truant student, wiggling under Jotaro’s piercing
and judging stare. He wanted to hold his bag up and hide his reddened face
behind it.
 
 
 
After some pensive moments, the muscular man sat up in his chair and held up
his empty espresso cup in one hand and raised his other hand to motion that
he’d like a second at the register. The barista behind the register
acknowledged him with a smile. Jotaro then gathered up the papers in front of
him and then organized them into two other manila folders-- one labeled,
“Journal Reviews,” and the other, “Student Papers.”
 
Unable to find a way to talk his way out of the situation, Josuke let his face
drop into the safety of his scarf bundled around his neck and admitted through
the wool, “Yes.”
 
Jotaro’s unreadable expression did not change, however he shifted his position
on his chair to sit forward towards his young uncle. Nervously, Josuke picked
up his latte and took a hasty sip-- yipping when the hot liquid scalded his
tongue.
 
His hands trembled when he tried to set the mug back down-- causing some of the
foam and whipped cream to tilt over the lip of the cup onto his fingers.
 
“Good grief,” breathed the older man, tugging the brim of his hat down with a
rare smile. “Relax, I’m not going to report you or anything. I did much worse
at your age, so calm down.”
 
Oh thank God. Nodding briskly, Josuke chanced putting his bag down on an empty
chair to his left and exhaled loudly. Phew! When the waitress came by again
with a fresh espresso, Jotaro said, “Get the kid some iced water, yeah?”
 
Sheepish and embarrassed, Josuke rubbed his arms and fidgeted in his seat.
 
“So what is it this time, huh?” asked Jotaro without looking up as he sipped
his drink. Briefly, Josuke wondered if the handle of the cup would snap between
the man’s big fingers. The diminutive espresso cup made a quiet clink when set
back down onto its small saucer.
 
Jotaro’s movements were always so controlled-- Josuke was starstruck as he
watched his nephew carefully fold his large hands over each other as he waited
for him to talk. Knowing that the older Joestar wasn’t a patient man, Josuke
wrung his hands together and sat forward too. If there was one thing Jotaro
didn’t have a shortage of, it was life experiences. Maybe he could learn
something from the older man. The waitress gave him the ice water and asked if
he was okay, and Josuke thanked her plenty of times before he soothed the tip
of his burnt tongue with small held mouthfuls of water.
 
Nervously, Josuke bobbed his head a few more times and scuffed his feet on the
cafe’s floor to regain his nerve. Despite how he had been shivering outside
just moments before, he was now sweating buckets under the intense stare of the
man in front of him.
 
“Jotaro-san, have ya ever-- umm,” started the teenager haltingly before he
tried again, “Didja ever feel guilty because, you, er--”
 
God, he wasn’t making much headway at all.
 
Jotaro kept his eyes on him even as he took another sip from his espresso.
 
Fuck it.
 
“So I think ya already heard from Rohan but we were kinda sortamaybe goin’ out
but then it got really fucked up and I,” he stopped to take a quick breath, “I
dunno how I feel ‘bout it but I do know that I feel really, really shitty right
now-- but I don’t… I don’t understand why?”
 
Josuke exhaled again, emotionally spent as soon as the words left his lips. As
if the weight of what had happened three months ago suddenly came slamming back
into him after he had ignored them for so long, the strained teenager fell
forward until his forehead hit the edge of the cafe table between his arms.
There was enough force behind it that his latte rattled on its saucer.


Unexpectedly, a heavy hand clasped his shoulder.
 
He felt a reassuring squeeze, and then the hand was gone.
 
In disbelief, the disparaging teen slowly raised his head and saw Jotaro
staring quietly out the window.
 
“Listen, Josuke. Whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault.”
 
The intimidating man’s eyes softened as he stared thoughtfully ahead at the
empty, quiet street in front of him. The windows of the cafe were slightly
fogged up around the edges. The comforting hum of the heater was audible below
the calming melody of soft jazz tracks that played on the small shop’s sound
system.
 
Out of habit, Josuke sat up straighter and squared his shoulders when Jotaro’s
eyes turned back onto him again. The small smile was back-- though he couldn’t
help but detect a sad quality to the way the older man’s pale blue eyes
regarded him.
 
Gently, he explained, “When I was your age, I hated hearing this-- but now that
I’m in this role, I know that it’s true. You’re just a kid. It was Rohan who
fucked up, not you-- so don’t let guilt consume you.”
 
Bitterly, Josuke sucked in his lower lip and nodded once more.
 
It was the same thing his mom had said.
 
He knew that they were probably right.
 
Frustrated, Josuke balled his hands up in his lap and nodded again, incapable
of thinking of something else to do even though he wanted to show Jotaro that
he was considering what he had said. A man of few words, Jotaro’s advice meant
a lot to the younger man. Even with the assurance from both Jotaro and Tomoko
that Josuke should not feel guilty about rejecting Rohan, he still felt
culpable in some way.
 
However, the more he thought about it-- the more everything about this recent
act of defiance from Rohan bothered him.
 
The older man wasn’t his responsibility, and Josuke was certain that he had
done the right thing by refusing to continue the relationship they had.
Whatever kind of arrangement they had together wasn’t healthy-- that was very
clear by the end.
 
Josuke still felt foolish for being swept up by how much fun they were having
together that he had been willing to go along with everything Rohan wanted. In
retrospect now that he was reminded fully for the first time in months of all
of the ridiculous shit he had gone through when with Rohan, Josuke could see
now that he more like a caretaker of an insufferable manchild than a romantic
partner. He considered this realization painfully as he took another drink from
his cooling latte
 
His mom had reminded him gently about a month after their confrontation with
Rohan, as they spent a night in together with popcorn and a rented movie, that
her son deserved someone with a spine.
 
(Rohan was spineless-- like an octopus. They had to pause the movie because
Josuke was laughing too hard as he tried to explain to his mom through coughs
why what she had said was so funny.)
 
The truth was a bitter pill to swallow.
 
In spite of how small their shared city was, the shut-in had appeared to gone
back to being completely homebound. Tomoko was also ready to “take him the fuck
out” if she saw the waifish man anywhere near the school or their home, and had
eloquently warned Rohan in one last cellphone call before she had popped the
battery out of the device and thrown it into the trashbags full of the rest of
the Rohan-related crap.
 
As recently as last week-- ages since the last time he had seen the artist who
he had spent an entire life-changing summer with-- the teenager ashamedly
admitted to himself that he still thought back to the many fond memories they
had together that his selective memory had spotlighted in his mind.
 
It was easy to romanticize what they had shared over the course of his summer
vacation as time drew on and the turmoil that he had gone through faded. Not
seeing Rohan made it easier to glaze over the faults the man had, too.
 
Guiltily, he’d think back to warm afternoons spent eating home-cooked meals
while lazing on a blanket in Rohan’s workroom as they bickered playfully about
anything and everything. Often, those kind of rose-colored thoughts came to him
when he was bored in class-- when Josuke would catch himself craving the rush
he had when flirting with the awkward older man-- or when he’d groggily rouse
from his bed in the middle of night and realize that he was sleeping alone.
 
He had always felt so accomplished back then-- teasing affection out of the
emotionally constipated older man, living together as if they were old lovers,
and enjoying an extravagant lifestyle that he had only dreamed of.
 
Being with Rohan was glamorous.
 
His resolve in staying away from him waned sometimes.




Suddenly, he slammed the cup down onto its saucer as the reason why Rohan had
gone on hiatus dawned upon him.
 
Fuck, why hadn’t he realized it before? He had been trying so hard to not think
about Rohan at all-- lest his brain started to attempt to quell his boredom and
loneliness with the aforementioned tempting notions about giving the pathetic,
sad manchild another chance-- that he had completely overlooked the purpose of
this latest stunt.
 
Maybe it was self-centered to assume that the artist’s hiatus was the direct
result of Josuke’s actions-- yet it was completely within the realm of
possibility.
 
If Rohan was trying get Josuke’s attention-- to remind him of his existence in
this pathetic, dramatic way so that he’d capitalize on Josuke’s tendency to
remember the best in everyone so that the kindhearted teenager would come
running back to him out of concern-- then he was going to be sorely
disappointed.


Gradually, the guilt that had been suffocating him since he found out about the
hiatus this morning started to ebb away.
 
Right, this was why he had broken up with the manga artist-- this kind of
selfish and manipulative bullshit that the lovestruck young student had fallen
for until he was in too deep to swim back up.
 
Tomoko and Jotaro absolutely were correct.
 
Josuke didn’t need to deal with this. He did deserve better.
 
“You okay?” asked Jotaro, concern evident from the wrinkle in his brow when he
pried Josuke’s white-knuckled grip off of the now chipped cup and plate.
 
(However, Josuke was done being angry.)
 
“Ah-- right, sorry! I got it,” corrected Josuke sheepishly as he tried to
discreetly put the chinaware back together with his stand ability when the
waitress’ back was turned. Thankfully, they were the only two patrons of the
cafe this afternoon so there was no one else he had to watch out for. He
breathed a sigh of relief once the pieces came back together-- as if nothing
had even happened.
 
Jotaro repeated again, this time more firmly, “You sure you okay?”
 
He closed his eyes for a short period, then held the restored cup up to his
lips and smiled determinedly-- his bright purple eyes sparkling.
 
“Yeah, much better now. Thank you, Jotaro-san.”
 
The latte was now cold, but the creamy foam and whipped cream on top were still
delicious. Josuke threw his head back and downed the rest of the drink before
ordering another hot drink to-go that he could use to warm his hands with. The
teen then turned to Jotaro and asked him excitedly if he was free to watch a
movie-- it was pretty early, so they could probably get cheap tickets if they
hurried.
 
Jotaro tugged his hat down again, muttering “good grief,” then hailed the
waitress for the check and put his manila folders into his bag.
 
Everything was going to be just fine.
Chapter End Notes
     Jotaro's love life is Bad and full of Regrets.
     (Sad Dad looks sadly at street while he thinks about his youth.)
***** Chapter 24 *****
Chapter Notes
     I published the first chapter of WA on 2/3/16-- which means yesterday
     was this fic's one year anniversary! After you read this chapter, I
     have a little question that you can answer here:
     https://goo.gl/forms/X1iZL52NNOyTCeRc2
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Josuke didn’t think of Rohan again until Christmas Eve.
 
What pissed him off the most was that he was doing  so well  up until that
point too-- but Christmas was regarded as the most romantic holiday of the
year. Somehow, at some point, it had overtaken Valentine’s Day (speaking of, he
also  did want to think about that day either).
 
While the rest of his friends went out-- a mega date consisting of four
couples-- the embittered teen decided to stay at home. Mikitaka and Okuyasu had
insisted that the excursion to the mall right after class let out for winter
break wasn’t a romantic date. It was a friend date, his scarred friend assured
with a curt nod. Still, Josuke had a pretty good idea on how the group hang-out
was going to pan out.
 
Over the past few months since their summer amusement park trip, Reiko had
become more and more intrigued with their alien (?) classmate. Sure, it wasn’t
a romantic attraction by any stretch of the imagination, but more and more
they’d find Reiko requesting for Mikitaka to tell her more about his alien
species during their routine after-school meetups. Their beautiful, blonde
friend would kindly smile then vividly describe to her in detail the various
complexities native to his alien race.
 
Okuyasu, on the other hand, was still a sweaty mix of nerves and excitement
whenever left alone with a girl despite the gradual inclusion of Yuya and his
three fangirls (well, one ex-fangirl-- Yoshie and the biker were now an item,
though precisely what that entailed was a mystery to everyone). He’d probably
suffer a mini crisis once the friend date dissolved into people pairing off
into the quadruple date. It wasn’t the kind of crisis Okuyasu would want to be
rescued from, though.
 
The initial clamor at having girl  friends -- friends that were also  girls ,
amazingly-- had worn off on Josuke almost instantly as he was already on fairly
amicable terms with Yukako, but Josuke’s more socially inept partner-in-crime
still was still utterly enamored by a girl’s mere presence in his life.
 
His theory-- Okuyasu had explained with gusto one night in a theater while
Koichi and Josuke waited for their movie to start-- was that by exposing
himself to more one-on-one encounters with girls, then he’d naturally become
more immune to the effect they had on him. The most ridiculous part was that
Okuyasu said he wasn’t even 100% sure he was even interested in girls! It had
always just been super hard for him, he had divulged sheepishly, what with
growing up with only his pop and bro.





Regardless, Josuke didn’t want to be out and about in the Christmas-saturated
shopping center. The not-so-subliminal messaging of the jovial decorations and
advertisements were clear: don’t forget to plan the perfect confession date, or
buy the most romantic present, or treat your loved ones to the tastiest cakes!
It’s Christmas, after all! Time to get your romance on!
 
Hell no. Instead, Josuke decided firmly, his Christmas Eve date would be with
his mom.
 
(Tomoko had squealed excitedly when Josuke asked her to be his Christmas date
on a dull weekday night when he was washing the greens for their dinner salad.)
 
Resentful of the yule time atmosphere outside the safety of his house, he had
volunteered to stay home and decorate while the health teacher went out to buy
all the trimmings for their dinner. He didn’t need any reminder of what the
state his romantic life was in-- what better way to forget than to just busy
his hands with something?
 
Josuke took the liberty of borrowing his stand’s extra height, strength, and
speed to almost completely deck the halls of their home within the initial
fifteen minutes his mom had been gone.
 
Their bay window facing the lightly-snowed on street had a cheesy nativity set
proudly displayed for the entire neighborhood to see. A fairly sizeable tree
was stood up in their large living room. It was tastefully decorated with
silver and gold tinsel that curled around the formal glass ornaments hung on
the freshly cut evergreen’s many sturdy branches.
 
As expected, Tomoko’s presents from her coworkers and students (especially the
ones that had a crush on his famously beautiful mom--  yeesh ) dominated the
space underneath the tree. What was less expected were the presents from
strangers who lived in Morioh. Typically, the kind townspeople would drop by
every Christmas with gifts for Josuke’s grandfather as thanks for his service
throughout the year.
 
Josuke and his mom never would have known that their neighbors would continue
to bring those gifts after his grandfather had passed. In the two weeks leading
up to the holidays, what was left of the Higashikata family had many pleasant
but tearful visits from well-meaning people that wanted to express their
gratitude for the many decades of protection Ryohei Higashikata had provided to
their beloved small city.
 
The heft and shape of most of the packages suggested that the presents for his
grandfather were expensive bottles of whiskey. Josuke allowed himself a few
moments to sit by the tree and organize his grandfather’s presents, feeling the
way the liquid moved inside the wrapped boxes.
 
A particularly solid-feeling bottle slid around in its heavy box as he rotated
the package-- the dry sound of the glass container churning around inside its
case made it clear that it was in a luxurious wooden display box. It reminded
Josuke of his grandfather’s favorite brand of whiskey, which he drank on the
day he--
 
With a clatter, Crazy Diamond vanished and dropped the wreath he had been
hanging when the shaking teenager suddenly grabbed at chest because his throat
tightened to the point that he felt like he couldn’t breathe. As steadily as he
could manage, Josuke willed himself to calm down.




After several seconds, Josuke was able put the whiskey back with the other
presents. Looking at the pretty pile of colorful, shiny boxes, he allowed his
eyes to unfocus until the presents were just a colorful blur in front of him.
Josuke took a shuddering breath as he collected his emotions.



Though he had lost family this year, Josuke reminded himself, he had also
gained family and a whole community of friends. Plus, he had resolved to
protect Morioh in his grandpa’s stead-- and the young man was very proud of
what he and his close-knit support circle had accomplished that summer in the
span of a couple of heart-pounding weeks.
 
With renewed vigor, Josuke called Crazy Diamond back out to finish putting up
all the decorations.
 
---
 
“Josuke, turn off the lights! Hurry, hurry, before the wax drips onto the
cake!”
 
His peppy mother-- dressed in an unnecessarily sexy Mrs. Claus outfit that he
recognized from a Christmas party many years ago-- waved the spent match out
and smiled at the cute cake she had selected. It wasn’t as big as their usual
Christmas cake-- she had said she was watching her figure, but Josuke knew it
was because they were now eating for two instead of three-- but it made up for
its size in character.
 
The baked delight was a fluffy roll cake with decorations on it depicting a fat
little candy Santa Claus hobbling towards the chimney of a fondant cabin. A
couple of reindeer were crammed on the miniature roof, and there were leaf
shapes and festive appliques stuck into the frosting and fruit forest.
 
The thin candles, suitingly stuffed into the tiny chimney next to Santa,
sparkled dangerously in the now dark room as Josuke trotted back to the low
table in their living room that they had decided to have dessert on.
 
“I got it, I got it-- geez, couldn’t you just light the candles a little slower
next time?”
 
“Oh shush, it’s more exciting when the stakes are high!”
 
A flash of bright light blinded him as he sat down on the floor-- the
disposable camera in his mom’s hand had been a menace to his eyes all night.
Now that the lights were off, Josuke couldn’t imagine the photo being anything
but a blurry, overblown streak of red color from his sweater-clad arm
reflexively swinging forward to cover his face from the camera flash.
 
“This is what ya think high stakes are, mom? Damn, yer starting to sound ol--”
 
Thump!
 
Drunk off of Christmas cheer and then some, Tomoko playfully swiped at her son-
- smiling toothily as she grunted through her teeth, “ Watch it. ” With the
sparkling candles casting erratic, flickering shadows across her beautiful face
and red-lipped grin, Tomoko looked like she could viciously tear him apart.
 
Josuke sat up properly and nicely for her, then offered politely to take over
camera duty.
 
Too busy posing to care about the wax dripping onto Candy Santa’s vulnerable
little body, his glamorous mother cackled as she switched from one alluring
pose to another. She flipped her hair back and smoldered at him over her
shoulder, the white fluffy trim of the off-shoulder costume revealing her thin
neck bones.
 
He snapped pictures nonstop-- knowing that the impromptu photoshoot would only
end once the film ran out.
 
When his slightly tipsy mother’s rapid sequence of poses started to slow, the
disposable camera’s shutter button stopped clicking.
 
Thank god, prayed Josuke, the camera was spent.
 
“Aw, is that all?” whined Tomoko as she pouted childishly at her son. “Check
the back-- there should be a counter for how many pics are left! Yer ol’ ma
still has some looks left to teach ya!”
 
Santa was a melted waxy mess by this point.
 
He was sure the film was out, but Josuke made sure to flip the camera over and
to assure his mom that the counter on the back of the camera did now read “0.”
 
It was then that he noticed that it was the same brand of disposable camera
that Rohan stocked in his workroom.
 
(Ah, not this again.)


“Oh no, my husband!” cried out his mom-- pulling Josuke out of his glum
thoughts, thankfully-- as she looked down at the once-beautiful cake that had
become a grim scene out of a holiday horror film. The red wax had oozed across
its jolly landscape, and Santa’s distorted body had tumbled off the candy roof
and onto the table from the weight of the wax that had now latched onto him
like a cancerous growth.
 
Tomoko stuck out a quivering lower lip and held up what was left of her fondant
husband’s body towards her son.
 
For a brief moment, Josuke floated the idea of fixing it. Sadly, his mother
wasn’t quite drunk enough for a trick like that to pass by unnoticed, even if
he tried to play it off as a Christmas Miracle.
 
Her despair faded quickly though, as she squished the candy-wax monstrosity
into her fist with a howl of laughter and dropped the inedible glob onto the
table top.
 
“That woulda been a funny photo, huh?” she said with a snicker as she rolled
the remaining wax off of her palms.
 
Taken aback by her unpredictable antics, Josuke couldn’t stop himself before he
realized he had started laughing too.
 
“Well, how ‘bout some cake?” said his mom with a bemused sneer as she joined
the wax from her palms onto the rest of Santa’s sad body.
 
Sighing with relief-- his heart had sank when he saw his mom’s sad pout
earlier-- Josuke picked off the wax in preparation to cut the cake.
 
Tomoko removed the sparkling candles and plodded towards the kitchen where she
could safely douse them out in the sink. She flicked on the living room lights
when she passed the switch.
 
Josuke was still piling fruit that had tumbled off the cake back onto the
slices he had cut when his mom came back and pressed a cold beer against his
tender neck right above his red knitted sweater collar.
 
“G-gah!” coughed the teenager in alarm-- he sat back roughly from the sting of
the can, accidentally knocking it out of his mother’s hands where it then
bounced onto the carpet floor. His assaulter’s eyes glittered with mischief.
She retrieved the can before it could roll out of reach and set it down
squarely in front of her son, then reclaimed her sitting spot while pulling her
cake slice towards herself
 
He’d be lying if he said it was his first time drinking beer-- but it was
definitely his first time drinking alone with just his mom.  Officially , the
only alcohol that had ever touched her son’s virgin lips were during fancy
family dinners.
 
She winked at her confused child squinting suspiciously at the can-- as if it
was a trap she was laying out for him somehow-- then flicked on the TV
nonchalantly.
 
Tomoko cracked open her own beer-- the crisp, refreshing sound was loud to
Josuke’s ears compared to the dull, low hum of the news report about people
proposing on the starlit decks of Tokyo Tower-- then held her opened can out
towards her son while keeping her eyes on the television in front of her.
 
“You’re thinking too much-- and I know, because I’m doing it too. Drink. Don’t
worry, mom won’t snitch on you.”
 
Was mom hurting too?
 
Josuke hurriedly pulled the tab on his can-- it frothed from being jolted
around when the beer was dropped-- and tried to catch the dripping foam with
his other hand as he raised the can to meet his mom’s toast.
 
Tomoko threw her head back elegantly, chugging her beer in smooth gulps before
she slammed it down on the table-- further crushing Santa’s malformed, lumpy
body-- and made an unattractive sound that Josuke could only describe as a
delighted bark.
 
Half of his own beer was just a disintegrating mess of froth that was
overflowing out of his cupped hand onto an unused paper plate.
 
‘Tis the season, thought Josuke before he decided to try his mom’s maneuver
with what was left of his beer.
 
“That’s my boy,” hooted the high school teacher as she got up to grab more
drinks.
 
---
 
Josuke woke up the next morning, dehydrated and stiff.
 
With a groan, he robotically rubbed his eyes and looked around himself. He
vaguely remembered partying it up with his mom well past midnight while they
both complained bitterly about the gall people had for shoving their beautiful,
perfect relationships into their faces by getting their proposals covered by
the news.
 
Tomoko-- while sloshing around an almost full beer in her hands as she wildly
and angrily gesticulated with her hands at the TV-- had denounced those people
as utter narcissists who knew a surefire way to get their five minutes of fame
was to take a cheap shot like getting married on Christmas fucking Eve. Was
anyone even fact-checking these proposals? Who was going to do the follow-up
coverage later to confirm that the dozens of proposals that night were actual
proposals?
 
By the time his spirited mother had started rattling off different methods for
checking the authenticity of a proposal-- such as measuring the heart rates and
testing the blood of the parties involved to ensure that they were legitimately
shocked by their partner asking to take their hand in holy matrimony-- Josuke
was starting to fade fast from his sixth beer.
 
His head throbbed as these memories trickled back into his sluggish mind.
Blearily, Josuke massaged his gurgling stomach. Perhaps he could try to piece
together any other missing portions of his memory after he got a little fuel
for the gas tank. To be honest, the hungover teenager couldn’t recall if he
even ate any of his Christmas cake last night.
 
A burp rumbled up his throat and Josuke almost puked when he tasted it-- nope,
definitely didn’t have any cake. Disgusting.
 
Groggily, he forced himself to stand up and hobble around his house while
croaking out his mom’s name. In the kitchen, there was a hurriedly scribbled
note under a saran-wrapped plate of leftover turkey and fried chicken.
Apparently, she had taken off for Christmas Eve sales with her friends.
 
Josuke fell back, allowing himself to be caught by his stand now that he
definitively knew his mother wasn’t home. With the aid of his sturdy stand,
Josuke slowly made his way upstairs after Crazy D helped hold up a glass of
water for him to sip haltingly since actually seeing food had made him queasy.
 
Alcohol always made him sweat as if he had been locked in a sauna for hours,
and the stinky student was in dire need of a bath.
 
Once in the bathroom, Josuke stripped lazily while standing close for Crazy D
to start the water heater and fill up the tub. When finally seated on the
plastic stool by the faucet, Josuke whispered his thanks as his trusty stand
scrubbed his back and limbs. Twisting the water out of his freshly shampooed
bangs, Josuke hazily thought about what a goddamn blessing stands were.
 
Maybe this was an abuse of his powers to use his gift in such a selfish way,
but he could care less when every few seconds he’d almost puke into the wash
bucket they kept by the tub.
 
To think that just yesterday morning he was still in class, zoning out as his
classmates chattered giddily about if they had date plans that night for
Christmas Eve. Now he was nursing his first hangover-- brought on by his
devilish mom, of all people-- on Christmas morning.
 
He groaned appreciatively when Crazy D assisted Josuke in lowering his weak
body into the steaming hot bath. It was getting cold again now that the warm
weather precluding the light shower of snow on Morioh had passed. The heat of
the water stung his skin, but also made his chilled and tired body loosen up
slightly.
 
If only his stand had a larger effective range-- then he could get Crazy
Diamond to turn up the heater downstairs. Did Koichi ever use Echoes for small
tasks like that?
 
As he grew more comfortable and settled in the tub, Josuke forgot to stop his
mind from wandering.
 
It would probably be rude to open presents before his mom was home. The stand
user had received a good amount of presents this year from his greatly expanded
social circle and also his new extended family. While for some of his friends
he had a pretty good idea of what they could have got him, Josuke felt like a
child again for the presents he couldn’t figure out. What could Mikitaka have
possibly given him that fit in a box smaller than his palm? Was it perhaps a
matching nose ring? Josuke could not put it past the eccentric alien to even
put a little bit of himself in a box. The thought made him shudder, disturbed.
 
Mysteriously, Yukako had presented Josuke a large paper bag yesterday that held
individually wrapped presents from both her and Koichi yesterday. He had spoke
in circles, so taken aback that he stuttered trying to explain why he didn’t
have a present to give just her in return.
 
That was not the only awkward moment he had encountered recently either. The
young Joestar felt bad for doing so, but he didn’t tell his mom that this year
he got presents from his dad for the first time in his life. Talking about
Joseph always made her cry, and he didn’t want to do that to her-- so instead
of chancing such a disaster, the kind-hearted teen squirrelled away the
presents that Jotaro had dropped off.
 
Gratefully, he didn’t need to hide what Jotaro had gifted him for Christmas as
the gesture was not physical. Jotaro’s generous present was an all-expenses-
paid roundtrip to come visit New York whenever he’d like. Still apprehensive
about meeting Mrs. Suzy Q Joestar (his maybe-half-step-or-removed-or-something-
mom?) and Mr. Smokey Brown (his adopted uncle?), Jotaro read his young
relative’s unease and said that he could use the roundtrip ticket to go to hang
out with the marine biologist in Florida instead.
 
Relieved and pleased, Josuke had thanked this strange, gruff man that had
become his mentor until his face was blue. With a wave of his large hand, Dr.
Kujo had said it was really not a big deal-- he already did so much travelling
that he had more flight miles and hotel points than he knew what to do with,
and the rest of Josuke’s living expenses would be nothing considering how much
Josuke had helped Jotaro with his Morioh investigation.
 
Curious though how he was still in Morioh even during the holidays. Didn’t
Jotaro have family in Florida? The elder Joestar had said that he still had
work to do so that he could publish his thesis on the starfish native to Morioh
Bay, but it struck Josuke as bizarre that the mysterious man couldn’t spare a
few days to see his family at least.
 
Thinking back onto the many presents waiting for Josuke to unwrap made him feel
a little embarrassed, too. Prior to becoming the self-proclaimed protector of
Morioh, he didn’t have any close friends. He’d always thought of himself as a
friendly guy, but somehow he’d inevitably get into fights with others and thus
never made much headway past acquaintance-level friendships. Tomoko used to
goodnaturedly criticize him for being a hotheaded idiot who picked fights too
easily, but he paid no mind to her words since he didn’t feel lonely. How could
he feel lonely when his mom and grandfather were there for him?
 
Having so many good friends wasn’t so bad though, thought Josuke warmly. He
sank into the water till it was just below his eyes as he suddenly felt a
little shy for having such an intimate-- albeit private and unspoken-- thought.
 
Jotaro had told him that everything happened at the right time for the right
reasons, no matter how painful.
 
A natural-born stand user, Josuke had never met other stand users until
Keichou, tragically and disastrously, started creating them. He never had best
friends either until he knew stand users-- with the only exceptions being
Koichi and Mikitaka. Except those two didn’t even count, because Koichi
developed a stand later, and Mikitaka-- well, that was still a mystery, but the
guy definitely wasn’t a normal human being.
 
He closed his eyes in the bath. Despite everything that had happened, he would
definitely go with Okuyasu and his dad to visit Keichou during Obon next
summer. After all, it was important to his friend to go.
 
Josuke flushed again-- it was a completely unfamiliar thought. Never had Josuke
ever had someone that he was so sure he’d still be friends with a year from
now, nor had he ever felt assured enough of that friendship to consider future
activities together.
 
Lazily, he tried to use his foot to turn on the hot water faucet again to
reheat the cooling water in the tub so that he could stay in the bath longer.
His wet toes couldn’t grip the knob though, so he groaned loudly in the empty
bathroom and then got up.
 
Crazy D drained the tub as Josuke gave himself one more quick rinse. Other than
the slight pressure he felt towards the front of his head, the worst of the
hangover appeared to have gone away.
 
Standing in front of his steamy mirror, Josuke leaned forward and wiped a
window for himself to use throughout his morning routine that he had
accidentally skipped. Every so often he would have to stop what he was doing to
rub the new steam off of the mirror so that he could see what he was doing.
 
By the time he was done shaving and washing his face, most of the steam from
the bathroom had disappeared.
 
Looking at his messy, damp hair pushed back behind his ears, he reached for a
comb and the blowdryer.
 
His hand stopped short of the implements, however.
 
Cautiously, Josuke leaned his head out of the bathroom down the hall.
 
When sure that no one was home, he closed his eyes and ran his fingers through
his wet hair.
 
He remembered the way Rohan had gently carded his thin fingers through his hair
as he styled the teen’s long bangs carefully. The older man had pet him
afterwards-- his skilled hand rubbing pleasantly against Josuke’s soft hair.
 
Sighing, Josuke stopped himself from reminiscing further and picked up his
trusty comb.
 
What he did with Rohan-- no, what he  had  with Rohan no longer made him hurt.
 
The company, love, and support that his friends and family had shown him since
what happened over the summer had reassured him that there was no reason Josuke
had to harbor any negative emotions for his own actions.
 
It wasn’t like he thought his world was over just because he had developed
feelings for someone who wasn’t emotionally and mentally capable of returning
them. However, it wasn’t until a few short weeks ago that it really hit him
that it wasn’t Josuke’s burden to feel responsible and guilty for Rohan just
because he cared for him.
 
Caring for someone did not mean suffering for them out of affection.
 
Looking at it now as he stood in his bathroom alone on Christmas, combing his
hair idly, he didn’t regret it. At first he did-- initially couldn’t stop
feeling foolish for getting involved with Rohan. He chastised himself for being
such a brat-- or scolded himself for lettings things get so  far .
 
Everything happened for a reason, no matter how painful.
 
In the end, he was glad to have experienced--
 
Love, if only for one crazy summer.
 
As if worried, Crazy Diamond manifested in a flash of pink and blue, hovering
over Josuke’s shoulder with his characteristic wide and alert gaze fixed on his
stand user.
 
Steadily, Josuke stared into his reflection as he felt the anxiety wash away
from him. He had never admitted to himself how deeply he had felt for the
obnoxious manchild.
 
Facing it for the first time this openly was, strangely, a relief.




Not wanting to aggravate his headache more, Josuke loosely gathered his hair
into a fluffy ponytail on the top of his head. His stand handed him a towel
that he wrapped around his waist in case his mom came home and found him going
around the house naked, and he went to his room for a change of clothes. It may
be not only Christmas, but it was also winter break. There was a lot for him to
in preparation for the new year.
 
After all, it was going to be the start of a new century in just two weeks.
 
He had overheard his mom chatting on her party line with the other teachers
about the “Y2K Bug” and how Japan was behind in updating its government systems
for whatever it was the Bug did.
 
Most pressingly for Josuke though was winter reading assignments. Having
changed, he thumbed through his lazily produced notes from class yesterday to
balk at the amount of homework he had to get done by January 3rd.
 
Fighting bad guys was so much easier than learning history-- but the calm that
was restored to his hometown was proof of the good work he had done this year.
 
Next year was 2000-- a new beginning on so many levels.
 
Suddenly, he felt like he could really face January 1st with no baggage.
 
He resigned himself to getting a headstart on his homework for the rest of the
day, and went back to the kitchen with his books and papers under his arm to
read while eating leftovers.
Chapter End Notes
     As a reminder, here's the link to my little question again:
     https://goo.gl/forms/X1iZL52NNOyTCeRc2
     Thanks again for reading!
***** Chapter 25 *****
January 5th, 2000
 
Monthly Shounen Jump
 
A letter from Kishibe-sensei:
 
First of all, Happy New Year.
 
As is customary, it is that time again to cast aside troubling thoughts from
last year and start the new year with a clear and empty mind.
 
When this letter is published, it will already be 2000. However the present me
is still here, in 1999. Specifically, I am writing this on New Year’s Eve.
 
After much deliberation, I believe that I will not be able to start this new
millennium with a clean slate unless I say a few things first. I will have to
ask you to please pardon me for publishing this selfish letter of mine, then.
 
So, let me begin:
 
I have never properly thanked my fans before. To be honest, I always felt that
there was no need to thank my readers for following my work. It didn’t make
sense. It would be like thanking grass for growing. After all, my work is so
good that it is obvious that people will not only read it, but continue to keep
up with it as long as I kept producing manga.
 
That said, I know now that just because something naturally happens does not
mean it is unworthy of praise. If something brings you joy, that in itself
makes it worthy of recognition.
 
I’m sorry for my negligence. Thank you for standing by me.
 
Furthermore, I’d like to publicly acknowledge the hard work of the publishing
staff. While you, the reader, are here solely because of me, the great Rohan
Kishibe, the magazine in your hand is only possible due to the sheer
determination and love for manga of those here at this company. I still believe
that even if Pink Dark Boy was not being distributed by the most popular and
wide-reaching manga publisher in Japan, the cultural significance of Pink Dark
Boy would have still lead to its organic proliferation through other means.
Nonetheless, Jump has aided in the inevitable spread of my work. Despite how I
still do all of the meaningful labor when it comes to my manga that allows the
publisher to make money off of my artistic genius, the publisher still
dramatically makes my life easier by accommodating me in ways that people would
never guess.
 
I have proudly said before that I produce my manga completely by myself, but I
see now that this statement is no longer true.
 
In fact, it has never been true.
 
In some way or another, I’ve always had help with my manga. Whether it was the
beauty of Europe inspiring a new story, the publishing company fighting to
ensure the successful spread and promotion of my manga, or the kindness of my
best friend giving me the drive to complete non-manga-related work; I had
experienced help in some fashion.
 
This summer-- or last summer since this letter is being published after the new
year-- I had an assistant for the first time in my life. While they weren’t the
traditional kind of assistant that most artists of my caliber have, they were
just right for me.
 
Except when I had the assistant trustfully by my side, I hadn’t learned yet how
to work together with anyone-- and so I lost the assistant.
 
I’m sorry for taking you for granted. Thank you for your hard work.
 
I will make a point to become a better cooperator so that I will never lose
someone so important to me again.
 
Finally, I would like to personally thank my editor for allowing me to write
and publish this letter instead of new chapters. To address the elephant in the
room: I do not know when Pink Dark Boy will come back from hiatus. I still have
a lot on my mind that I believe I need to discard before I can truly start 2000
completely cleansed of last year’s worries.
 
Happy New Year and thank you, once again.

-Rohan Kishibe
***** Chapter 26 *****
Chapter Notes
     Thank you all very very much for the well-wishes! I am going to
     continue to do my best during these trying times. I hope you are all
     well too.
Koichi was still panting from his adrenaline-fueled bike ride whilst buried in
three layers of winter wear (and a handknitted scarf by Yukako) when Josuke had
finished carefully reading the letter. On the same page as the letter was a
pencil sketch of Pink Dark Boy himself. It was a season’s greeting postcard for
the reader to cut out of the manga serial.
 
His heart was pounding so hard that his ears throbbed. Josuke flipped the thin
pages preceding and following Rohan’s letter, then checked the cover of the
magazine again.
 
That's all there was. Just a one-page letter in the back of Monthly Shounen
Jump sandwiched between the other author remarks. (In fact, the other artists
had gone all out for the New Year-- they each had their own page featuring a
nice illustration of their story protagonists dressed suitably for the holiday.
Only Rohan’s page was a verbose letter with a vague sketch.)
 
“Do you think--” started his short, kind friend when he finally got enough
breath back to speak a little.
 
“I don’t know,” interrupted Josuke, eyebrows knitted together with concern. He
closed the thick magazine in his hand and held it tightly, before he gave the
book back to Koichi. The other student opened the convenience store bag he had
looped around his bike handles and placed the book back in. He had picked up
the latest Monthly Shounen Jump release first thing in the morning like all the
other devoted readers who were doing the same at the convenience store.
 
Koichi would have never known to skip ahead to where Rohan had dropped a bomb
if it wasn’t for the disappointed grumbling of readers who had anxiously
flipped to the back for their New Year goodies from the publisher. The other
teenagers had said within earshot of Koichi that they thought Kishibe-sensei’s
New Year greeting would have said something about the hiatus, at least.
Instead, confusingly enough, it was just a bunch of mumbo jumbo about work.
Bleh.
 
Usually, the diminutive stand user would have grabbed a quick breakfast to
enjoy as part of his manga routine-- but instead he had bought just the
magazine, tore it open right in front of the cashier, and read the letter with
wide, worried eyes with the other people in line having to walk around him to
get to the register. His jaw had dropped as he hastily read what felt like a
confessional, then he hopped onto his bike and pedaled uphill to get to
Josuke’s house as soon as he could.
 
Echoes had gotten Josuke’s attention by repeatedly tapping on his second-story
window-- it was a little past 8 in the morning, and the taller teenager had
been enjoying sleeping in everyday before school resumed in less than a week.
 
While the little bit of snow Morioh had during late December had melted, it was
frigid outside. In contrast to Koichi's bundled up self, Josuke was comparably
undressed as he stood in front of his house in thick pajama pants, a t-shirt,
and a ratty zip-up hoodie.
 
Koichi twisted his hands in his thick scarf worriedly, unable to determine what
he expected to happen from showing Josuke the letter. He was certain that if he
hadn’t, Josuke would have never found out. Okuyasu was responsible with his
money now that Keichou wasn’t around to head the house-- the scarred face
teenager would have never bought the book himself, preferring to borrow manga
from Koichi on rare occasions.
 
Regardless, Koichi was not only Josuke’s friend-- but Rohan’s friend too.
 
A small pit of regret formed in the young man's stomach-- he had always been
told that he was a good person with a heart of gold, but maybe he shouldn’t
have gotten involved with this. Honestly, there was no telling what the
consequences would be, yet something inside him pleaded that Rohan needed
Koichi's help.
 
The light-haired student looked up at his contemplative friend, who was hunched
over as he chewed his thumb quietly.
 
“Thanks Koichi,” Josuke said suddenly. Standing up straight, he zipped up his
threadbare hoodie with determination.
 
“...Are you going to talk to him?”
 
“Yeah, or maybe just kick his ass,” laughed Josuke hollowly before he tiptoed
back into his house to change from his yard slippers to warm boots.
 
“Should I come too?”
 
Josuke thought this over as he gingerly locked the front door with spare keys
that were kept in the entrance hall’s key bowl.
 
“I think I wanna talk to him about the letter alone, if that’s alright?” asked
Josuke softly as he undid the high ponytail he used to keep his bangs off his
forehead at night. He then tied his hair back up in a more practical half updo.
 
Koichi nodded.
 
Appreciatively, the dark-haired teen clapped his broad hand on his friend’s
small shoulder-- or at least where he approximated Koichi’s shoulder was, as
his bodyline was completely obscured by the thick layers of snowstorm-ready
clothing he had on.
 
“Koichi, you really are a great, reliable guy, huh?”
 
In response, the heart of their Morioh group put his gloved hand over Josuke’s
and asked him to check if Rohan was okay-- his face was troubled when he
clarified, “You know-- like, emotionally.”
 
“Will do.”
 
Josuke stretched quickly, then took off into a steady jog to Rohan’s house.
 
---
 
He didn’t have the keys anymore-- they were somewhere in one of the many black
trashbags of “to-deal-with-later” Rohan stuff.
 
Maybe this was a mistake-- but he had questions and wanted them answered now.
 
This letter must mean something, right?
 
“Dora!!!”
 
Thud!
 
In a flash of light, the kicked-in backdoor to the kitchen was put back
together and firmly re-attached to its hinges.  While Josuke knew his stand was
crazy fast, he still didn’t want to chance someone seeing him enter in from the
front door. He didn’t need someone from Rohan’s street reporting a burglary
right now, as he knew from Koichi that Rohan had been barring anyone from
entering his house for months.
 
Once in the house, he almost immediately fell over. Josuke's legs had stumbled
directly into something very solid and heavy.
 
Looking down, the bewildered teen recognized what he had crashed into and
yanked the collar of his old hoodie up over his nose, in the hope that the
smell from the piles of tied up trash bags hadn’t reached his nose yet. It was
a futile effort-- the stench of garbage was too powerful, forcing Josuke to
settle for pinching his nose shut and breathing the putrid air in through his
mouth.
 
Cautiously, he used Crazy Diamond to inspect the bags.
 
The majority of the bags’ bulk were just delivery food containers. Out of the
corner of his eye, Josuke didn’t want to believe that he may had seen something
scurry. There was no way he wanted to deal with rats again-- especially not at
a time like this.
 
He would wretch, but doing so meant breathing in more of the garbage-tinged
air. Even if the teenager couldn’t smell it, just the thought of breathing in
particles from possibly four months of food scraps was making him want to throw
up.
 
Josuke hopped over the trashbags and hastily made his way out into the familiar
entrance hall from the kitchen with his hands clasped with a death grip over
his nose.
 
It looked like the manga artist had, at the very minimum, kicked aside his mail
and newspapers so that he could get delivery from the front door. Adjacent to
the somewhat empty space by the house’s main entrance was a mountain of unread
letters and other assorted items from the post office. Guardedly, Josuke
lowered his hands and sniffed the air as he circled around the loose mail
piles. He could still detect the faraway stench from Rohan's kitchen landfill,
but the air out in the foyer mostly smelled like dust.
 
A cursory glance at the rest of the entrance hall that transitioned into the
living room informed Josuke that while the house was indeed very unkempt,
it was not nearly as disgustingly grimy like the kitchen. The area around the
couch looked a little more lived in-- there were some empty delivery containers
too, along with stacks of old manga and balled up pieces of paper that looked
to be from one of Rohan’s larger sketchbooks.
 
Realizing that he was wasting time, he reaffirmed his priorities so that he
would stop delaying the inevitable. Right now, what was of the utmost
importance was to locate the older man. Originally, he had merely intended to
have an open conversation with the reclusive manga artist, but from the state
of the haughty man's home, Josuke quickly revised his goal to the more
important plan of attack known as: "Find out if Rohan is even alive."
 
Judging by what he could find as he completed his careful but rushed sweep
around the rest of the filthy area, it didn’t appear that Kishibe-sensei was
anywhere on the bottom floor. Okay, time to check upstairs.
 
Hurriedly, Josuke hopped up the stairs two steps at a time. The dread inside of
him grew. The air in the house was unnaturally still-- and the entire place was
quiet, as if abandoned. To his immediate left was the bedroom-- the door was
open, but all Josuke could see were various islands of laundry and a tangled
nest of bedding on top of the sheet-less bed. He took a quick peek into the
master bathroom. It was just as cluttered and messy as everywhere else at this
point, but Rohan was still nowhere to be found.
 
There was only one place left to look: the work room.
 
The door to that room, however, was closed.
 
Uneasily, Josuke tried the handle to see if it was locked.
 
Click-- it turned easily, and Josuke held his breath fearfully as he let the
door swing out slowly.
 
 
 
 
“Oh thank god,” announced the relieved teenager as he shakily fell to his
knees at what he saw when the door was all the way open. Josuke whispered
exhaustedly, “Yer not dead.”
 
Curled up with his face buried into inner seam of the couch was Rohan Kishibe.
He was covered in a number of quilts that Josuke remembered airing out from the
attic at some point. The only visual indication that there was a small man
under the many layers of bedding were just the barely perceptible tips of
Rohan's distinctive, dark green hair poking out from under the blankets.
 
The workroom was an absolute wreck, noticed Josuke now that he had the luxury
to take in his surroundings properly since the Man of the Hour was finally
found. Pretty much all of the books had been removed from the shelves and were
now in haphazard stacks on the floor. The various towers of literature
scattered around the room made it almost look like a child had been trying to
construct a city. Where the hell did Rohan haul out so many books? There were
even more than Josuke had remembered sorting.
 
The floor had a light dusting of charcoal from the loose pages of drawings
strewn about-- Josuke made a face when he looked down at his grey sleeping
pants and saw that his knees were now dirtied.
 
All of the drawers to Rohan’s material cart were open and emptied, while his
drawing implements were scattered across his work desk in no discernible order.
The room was dark save for the desk lamp that was now on the floor next to the
couch that Rohan had made into his Sadness Cave. The blinds for the large,
dramatic windows that used to fill his workroom with abundant natural light
were shut completely.
 
To his right, Rohan finally stirred.
 
Standing up with difficulty, Josuke swatted the charcoal dust off his knees.
Hopelessly, it was now smeared on his previously-clean hands.  He quickly
accepted that at this point the mess and dirt of Rohan's meager existence was
inescapable. (He had actually had the luxury of feeling a tad guilty earlier
about not removing his shoes indoors during his rush to find out if Rohan was
dead or not-- none of that really mattered anymore.)
 
He stood above the man, who slowly pulled his face out of the couch cushions
and stared up at Josuke with hazy, dull eyes.
 
“Josuke…?”
 
Rohan was even thinner than before-- his lips looked chapped and dry, and he
seemed almost listless. The usually perfectly put-together man looked greasy
and sick.
 
Out of habit, Josuke crouched and placed his hand on Rohan’s forehead to check
his temperature. He grimaced. The manga artist’s skin somehow felt sticky and
oily to the touch at the same time-- but his temperature was normal,
thankfully. (His charcoal-covered hands left little dark smudges on the older
man’s balmy, porcelain skin.)
 
“Listen, Rohan-- I’m gonna move you, okay? I’ll sit you down at the toilet and
start the bath, then go--”
 
“N-no!” gasped the pale man shakily with energy that Josuke did not expect him
to have-- delicate hands shot out from beneath the quilts and grabbed
desperately at the front of the teenager’s hoodie.
 
Taken aback, Josuke watched with alarm when Rohan used his grip on the hoodie
to pull himself up and pleaded softly, “Don’t go.”
 
“Er, actually-- I was tryin’ to say that I’d go to get you something to drink
while the tub filled up. I'm not actually goin' anywhere. Is that okay, Rohan?
Can I do that?” explained Josuke with difficulty.
 
He could see the pieces staggeringly fall into place in Rohan’s mind as he
parsed each word that Josuke had said-- his dry lips working mutely. Relieved,
the stinky man nodded and then leaned forward to press his face into the
student’s strong chest.
 
Well.
 
That was probably the tired artist’s way of letting Josuke know he could be
moved now, decided Josuke. Gingerly, he gathered the small man up into his
arms. Jesus, he even felt lighter than before.
 
While he didn’t want to spare any moment of Rohan’s possibly dwindling life
force, the strong teenager was careful and slow as he carryed the limp man. In
a last minute change of mind, he decided against putting Rohan up in the master
bedroom. From his short assessment earlier, the guest room bathroom was
probably in better form.
 
Rohan weakly rubbed his face into Josuke’s neck while being carried down the
stairs.
 
The guest bathroom was dusty and had a full trashcan, but it was still
practically the way Josuke had left it in the summer. After setting Rohan down
on the closed toilet lid, he turned on the water heater and tested the
temperature of the water. Crazy Diamond pulled out clean guest towels that
Josuke had previously stowed in an overhead cabinet. The spare toothbrushes
were still in the vanity’s drawer. Once the water had warmed sufficiently,
Josuke plugged up the tub so it could fill.
 
He looked back over his shoulder-- the tired man’s crusty eyes were closed, but
he was still breathing as he dozed on the toilet seat. Crazy Diamond wasn’t a
long distance stand so there was no way for him to keep an eye on the other
person if he stepped out of the restroom, but he figured he could run to the
kitchen and come back without while Rohan slept.
 
After a few short moments, Josuke was back with a cup full of tap water. (It
would have taken too long to try to find a clean cup in the junkyard of a
kitchen, so he had Crazy Diamond punch the trash out of his way so that he
could make a beeline to the filled sink and wash the first cup he found.) He
nudged the artist awake-- a nearly overwhelming amount of relief washed over
him when he saw his ex-partner's dull green eyes belatedly open.
 
“There you go,” encouraged Josuke softly as Rohan drained the cup almost
instantly-- he half-expected the man to choke, but he managed somehow.
 
With professionalism rivalling that of the nurses Josuke had gotten to know
from his multiple hospitalizations last year, he and Crazy D were able to
efficiently strip and get Rohan into the bath.
 
This wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he decided to come over to talk to
the man about the letter-- but Rohan was clearly of no use to him in that
regard considering his current state.
 
He jolted, feeling the sad man nuzzle into him a second time. This time, Rohan
had affectionately tilted his head into Josuke’s hands as the teen shampooed
his dirty hair. Unsure of what to do, Josuke switched roles with Crazy Diamond.
His stand gave him the sponge that he had been soaping the skinny man’s limbs
with, then moved to finish scrubbing Rohan’s hair.
 
Later, to his surprise, the somewhat reinvigorated man twined their fingers
tightly together when Josuke had picked up Rohan’s hand to wash his
fingernails. A languid, dreamy smile appeared on the older man’s thin lips.
 
Fine-- just for now, though.
 
He let Rohan hold his hand, even though it made cleaning take longer.
 
After they were starting their second round of scrubbing Rohan from head to
toe, the man stopped Josuke and Crazy D to announce softly that he could finish
from there.
 
“Thank you,” he had said-- his voice was soft, but much less weak than before.
 
Not wanting to stick around, Josuke removed himself from the restroom.
 
Seeing how his own clothes had went from dusty to wet, he took the opportunity
to see if he could find some of the things he had left behind the last time he
was here. In Rohan’s bedroom, he was able to excavate the purchases from the
Tokyo trip that he hadn’t brought home immediately after the vacation. He had
been scared his mom would notice too many new clothes all at once. The items
had been stored in the bottom drawer of the dresser facing Rohan’s bed. Josuke
had to kick Rohan’s unwashed laundry out of his way to get to the dresser.
 
He tried shaking out the wrinkled clothes-- there was no way he would have
known that he would end up leaving the crumbled clothes to languish for
months in paper shopping bags crammed into a drawer. Resolutely, Josuke shook
the tightly compacted fabric brick out roughly.
 
Clink!
 
Something small and metal tumbled out onto the ground. The circular item rolled
but did not make it very far before spinning into a garbage bag. It then
noisily rocked back and forth until it laid flat on the master bedroom floor.
 
The delicate gold band contrasted sharply against the dark brown hardwood.
 
 
 
Oh, it was his half of the matching rings he had bought for himself and Rohan.
 
The wire ring was slightly bent out of shape-- but it wasn’t squished beyond
repair. Josuke pinched the ring between his strong fingers and carefully guided
it back into its original shape. There, good as new-- he didn't even need Crazy
D to fix it up. He set it aside on top of the dresser and went back to wildly
flapping his garments until they were wearable.
 
His head had just popped out of the thin long-sleeve sweater he was pulling on
when Rohan-- pale, thin, but now clean and well enough to climb stairs-
- silently appeared at the door frame with a towel wrapped lightly around his
skinny hips.
 
Wordlessly, the suddenly very fond and friendly man stepped forward to try and
pull Josuke into a hug.
 
“Ah, wait--”
 
Held away at arm’s length-- by Crazy Diamond’s longer arms, in fact-- Rohan
tilted his head curiously at Josuke.
 
 
 
“Didn’t you come back for me?” he said, a little scared.
 
“Er, not-- not quite,” sighed Josuke. He called Crazy Diamond back when he saw
the defeated way the artist dropped his outstretched arms, hanging them
sullenly by his side. Josuke continued, haltingly, “I saw the letter this
morning-- Koichi had brought it to me. I felt, um-- something. So I wanted to…
talk. Properly. Like an actual conversation about-- um...”
 
Perking up at this opportunity to keep Josuke longer, Rohan readily sat down
on his bare bed.
 
“Okay, talk.”
 
Josuke grimaced uncomfortably.
 
Despite how milky his skin was from being a shut-in for almost four months, the
manga artist realized his folly with a jolt and somehow paled further.
 
He stood up wobbily, “Uhh, I mean--” then searched around, unable to figure out
how to recover from his awkwardly bad start to their talk. Seeing the socially
inept man flail, Josuke sighed and decided to throw him a lifeline.
 
“How ‘bout you get dressed first, and then let’s talk somewhere-- cleaner. I’ll
wait for you downstairs on the couch, ‘kay?”
 
“Yeah-- yes, that sounds, uh, agreeable. We’re in agreement, right?” tried
Rohan, uncertainly.

“Ha, yes. We’re in agreement,” concurred Josuke, lips turning up at the corners
at the completely sincere but hopeless way the older man was trying to be more
communicative.
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