Archive of Our Own ^beta

In Jotaro Kujo’s opinion, most people suck, some people were meh , a few were ok, and almost no one was good. 

In his opinion, you were in the meh group. 

Nothing special. In fact, a bit of a bore. But at least you weren’t one of his “admirers” who followed him around, harassed, and stalked him as if they didn’t have anything better to do. Maybe they really didn’t.

You were just… there. A foreigner who enrolled at the beginning of the year and didn’t talk to anyone. 

The first time he noticed your existence was when one of the teachers paired you for an activity -  a dialogue in English. You smiled politely and started the conversation.

“Hi! How long have you been studying here?” 

Jotaro huffed. He hated small talk. He looked away, bored as fuck, just to read on the board that the conversation topic was “present perfect continuous”. So, you were just… practicing. 

“For a long time,” he answered. You kept looking at him, with the same polite smile, posture a bit too rigid. Waiting.

Jotaro really hated being at school and hated even more those kinds of activities - the ones that required interaction. But it was a pair task, and he didn’t want to lower his grades. So, he just engaged.

“You?”

“I’ve been studying here since the beginning of the year. It’s been… different. And, uh-” you squinted your eyes to read the next topic. “Do you have any hobbies?”

Smoking and being left alone, he wanted to say. But he just shrugged.

“Reading. What about you?”

“Oh, I have some… I love painting, cooking, gardening, crocheting, rollerskating, doing parkour, origami, and watching some series from my country, and writing, and…” You were counting your hobbies on your fingers as Jotaro just frowned. Good grief, how many hobbies could a person have? 

“... but unfortunately, I don’t have time for any of them anymore. Well - how long have you been… reading?” you tilted your head, amused with something. 

“A time.” He tugged his hat a bit more on his head and crossed his arms on the desk. Your teacher was coming towards you to hear your progress. “How long have you, er-” what did you say? “-rollerskating?”

“How long have you been,” your teacher corrected, walking past your desk. Jotaro didn’t mind repeating.

“For five years now! It’s amazing! Do you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Rollerskating”

As if.

“No.”

“Okay. And, what about sports or exercises? Do you practice any?”

Yep. Resisting the urge to get the hell out of here.

“Boxing,” he muttered, his lips twitching in a weird way. As if he wanted to smile but didn’t know how to. “And you?”

“That’s amazing! As I said, I used to do parkour, but I’m not very good at it. So, how long have you been doing it - boxing?”

Not much, just since this weird evil spirit appeared, he thought. 

“For some months.”

“Neat!”

You went silent. The topics were over. Jotaro was afraid you would keep speaking to keep the conversation going. You didn’t. You just nodded and turned to face the board again. 

This was your first interaction. 

After that, you started to greet Jotaro every time you arrived at school. But he just ignored you. You thought you understood.

People in Japan were just different from you.

You had to understand that.

But it didn’t mean it wasn’t lonely.

-------------------

“Why don’t you throw a party? Isn’t your birthday in like, two weeks?”

Your best friend sounded excited during your call. You missed her so much, as well as all your other friends, your old school, the weather, and the food… gosh, how you missed being able to hear and speak your first language everywhere!

“I don’t know,” you said, tired. You’ve been studying for hours, and you were sure your voice sounded exhausted. “People here don’t really talk to me at school. I guess they don’t like me.”

“Bullshit, you’re so cool!”

“No, I mean it! I’ve tried to befriend someone, anyone! I’ve read a lot about their culture, I don’t talk more than I should, I always bow and speak low, I’m studying my eyes out trying to improve my Japanese… but nobody wants to be near me more than what’s necessary.”

You sighed. Keep telling yourself what your mother says: “You don’t need friends. You need a good future. Don’t care about them the same way they don’t care about you.”

“Maybe it’s just… cultural,” your friend risked. “Maybe they just need time. But, hey - are they bullying you?”

“Oh, no!” you rushed to say. “Well, I mean, is being ignored and isolated a kind of bullying?”

“I’m afraid it is.”

You laughed a bit.

“So I guess I am. But it’s fine.”

“Stop lying to yourself.”

“I’m not-”

“You are! I have known you since we were little! You are sociable and friendly, and you love talking to people and listening to them! My heart aches so much knowing you are this lonely.”

“I’m fine! Really. It’s just - I don’t want to bother anyone. Forcing friendship or whatever.”

“Well, so do as I said - throw a birthday party, invite everybody! I’m sure you’ll end up with at least one friend.”

You were lying on your bedroom floor, facing the ceiling, curling the phone’s wire in one finger.

“Do you think so?”

“I do. But, hey, don’t find a new best friend. This place is mine!”

You laughed again. Gosh, how you missed laughing with friends. Being able to talk for hours, play games, or simply walk to a different part of the city, just like a normal teenager.

Maybe it could work. 

“Don’t worry. You’ll always be number one.”

-------------------

Jotaro was smoking on a distant corner of the school gardens, observing the movement. He had already told a group of “admirers” to fuck off twice already. What did a man have to do to smoke his cigarettes alone?

From that distance, he saw you, handing someone a piece of paper and telling them something. With a deep bow, you went to the next person. And the next. And the next.

Until you came to him.

Good grief.

“Hello, good afternoon, Jotaro Kujo,” you greeted, with your rehearsed Japanese with a thick accent. “My birthday is in two weeks, and it would be a pleasure if you could come to my party”, you said, handing him the piece of paper. An invitation. “All the information is here. Have a good day!”

You bowed deeply towards him, avoiding eye contact, and turned away, maybe afraid of hearing his answer.

Jotaro opened the invitation, a pastel whatever color with stars drawn on it.

With beautifully handwritten characters, there was a date and an address. 

“Don’t mind bringing me anything, just your presence will be enough!”

He frowned and didn’t read it twice. Of course, it was the foreigner; she couldn’t possibly know that he never attended birthday parties. People at school stopped inviting him in their first year. So, he just tugged it into his pocket while picking another cigarette. 

“I can’t believe it! How bold!”

Good grief .

The voice belonged to one of Jotaro’s most insistent admirers, and of course, the leader of his fan club. 

“Hey, Jotaro! Did that freak foreigner really invite you to her party?”

He turned his back, already annoyed. 

“Guess you’re not blind,” he muttered between his cigarettes.

“I bet she’s into him,” said another girl. 

“Who isn’t?” asked a third, dreamily.

“You’re not going, are you, Jojo?”

“Of course not! Jojo would never! He’s so cool!” his number one fan answered, rolling her eyes, sounding almost offended. “Have you seen her? She’s so lame! Nobody understands what she says.”

“Right? And her hair, then? I think she should befriend a brush first of all.”

“Not to mention the way she constantly tries to blend in and fails every time!”

“Are you going?”

“I think the correct question is ‘who is going?’” one of the girls laughed. “It’s social suicide! Besides…”

Jotaro closed his eyes. It was always this same bullshit. He finished smoking and finally could get rid of them, walking towards the classroom a little faster before his patience reached its limit with their annoying buzz behind him fading.

In the class, he saw you writing down furiously in your notebook each word the teacher was saying. Your grades weren’t that good because of the language barrier, but you were making an extra effort. 

When the teacher went silent, you realised the questions weren’t so difficult, checking with your dictionary. In fact, you finished the exercise quite fast and smiled to yourself. Maths was maths everywhere. More to distract yourself from the anxiety of your party than anything, you started to sing in your head a song that would always make you happy. You even muttered the words without a sound, drawing patterns in your notebook.

You didn’t realize Jotaro Kujo was staring until you looked around, stretching, a bit bored.

He had a curious look on his face, arms crossed, although his expression looked as tedious as it’s always been. 

You then did something you’ve never thought you could do. At least not in Japan. 

You stuck out your tongue.

Damn it, what am I doing?

You didn’t even know if it was considered something rude there. 

He blinked once, frowning. Then, faced the opposite way. 

He must think I’m a weirdo.

One less person at the party, I guess .

------------------------

He saw that you were the first one to stand and get out of the classroom as soon as the class was over, almost running to the door. The other classmates seem to notice, too. Nobody, however, mentioned the party, even though he was sure you had handed out an invitation to everyone in your year. 

And he knew that, even though he never attended his classmates' parties himself, people would always talk excitedly about the event, who would go with whom, the presents they would buy, etc.

Not that he didn’t understand the reason: you were a foreigner, those people have been studying together their whole lives. And, let’s face it, you were a little odd, yes. You’d often be seen humming to yourself or smiling at something out of nowhere; the way you pronounced and placed your words was also weird, but that should be obvious - it wasn’t your first language, and let’s be honest, you didn’t really have people to practice with. 

On top of all, you’d always wave at everyone when you arrived at your class, no matter if everyone ignored you, saying “good morning” in both your native language and then in Japanese. 

Trying too hard to fit in. 

Failing in everyone else’s eyes.

It became clear to Jotaro that nobody would come to your party as the days passed. Not that he bothered asking anyone. But he did listen. The popular girls (his fans) would mock the event whenever you weren’t around. The other girls were too busy to care or just did what the popular ones did.

The boys found it too bold of a girl to deliver an invitation like that. The shy ones couldn’t even look a woman in the face, let alone go to her party.

The “cool” ones didn’t give a single fuck.

Jotaro caught himself thinking why. Why did everyone seem so determined to ignore you?

He decided to look for something, anything repulsive on you. 

It started in that math class. Jotaro observed you intensely writing every single word your teacher was saying, then furiously leafing through your dictionary. Suddenly, you smiled. Yes, smiled. A big one. And in less than a minute, you finished that exercise.

The boy watched you stretching at the same time our lips moved. As if you were speaking something. But he heard no sound. It was just your lips moving, and later your hands, drawing something on your notebook.

It was when she met his eyes.

Jotaro thanked his hat and the distance, but when he saw you stick out your tongue at him, he was sure you noticed he was staring.

He faced away, a bit confused. Why the hell did she do that? 

Good grief.

Jotaro low-key wanted to ask what that meant. Because you were a foreigner, maybe it had a different connotation.

But of course, he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter.

That’s what he told himself.

He just wanted to find out what the problem was with you. You weren’t that special, just a bit different, and yet, people avoided you as if you had a contagious disease.

Maybe you smelled bad? 

He tested his theory when you had to clean your classroom together one afternoon. He stood behind you as you were cleaning one of the shelves. Jotaro stopped behind you and discreetly smelled the air. Nothing. A hint of orange, maybe from your hair cream or soap, and that was all.

You stepped back to admire your work, only to step on someone’s feet.

Jotaro Kujo’s feet.

You swore in your language. Then, you cleaned your throat.

“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t see you…”

“It’s okay,” he answered, avoiding your eyes.

“Why were you that close?”

“I was checking on your work,” he lied.

You nodded once. Of course, they needed someone to check on the clumsy gaijin or whatever they called you. 

“Is it clean enough for your patterns?” you asked with a defiant tone.

“I’d say it is.”

You huffed. 

“What did you say?”

“Huh?”

“When you stepped on my feet?”

He watched as your face burned.

“Nothing important.”

“If it’s swearing, I’d say it’s always worth it knowing more words.”

You shook your head. 

“Not telling you. You’d understand next time I say it.”

“So you swear a lot?”

“I’d say I swear a healthy amount.”

He huffed. Another weird wording.

You finished your work in silence. Jotaro noticed you humming again, the way you always do. 

“Gotta get going,” you announced. “See you, I guess.”

He nodded. 

“Oh, one more thing.” Jotaro looked at you. You were pointing to one of the shelves. “I couldn’t reach the tallest one. But I guess you saw it, once you were so close for that reason.”

With that, you left. It was his turn to feel his face burning.

-----------------------

You were used to having lunch alone. 

It was one of the worst moments at school.

Your mother only knew how to cook the food you ate back home. In your opinion, it was the most delicious food ever. But that also meant you weren’t eating the same food or the same way everyone else was.

The first day was a nightmare. You tried to fit in, to engage in conversation, and share some cultural differences. But no one seemed interested, and you heard someone saying your food looked disgusting. 

So you found an isolated place behind a wall and sat there. It was a nice place, silent, except for some birds. They were your lunch companions, staring at you from the top of the tree. 

After lunch, you’d watch them and even whistle some tunes to them, or talk, feeling like one of the princesses in the movies you watched as a child.

“You know,” you told the birds in your language as you finished your lunch that day. “I feel like an alien sometimes. But I guess it’s just because of the language. I know that as soon as I master it, people will understand me better. I already know a lot. I’ve learned the whole song from that tomato sauce commercial!” 

Jotaro was on the other side of the wall you used to sit by. He heard you talking to yourself (no, to the birds) and heard you singing a tomato sauce song.

And he finally knew why people didn’t want to be around you.

“ Stone crazy, ” he thought to himself. Your classmates probably had already noticed your weird behaviour, adding to your foreign costumes. But, for some reason, it didn’t really bother Jotaro. It was actually quite… endearing. As if you lived in your own little world. 

If he wanted friends, he wouldn’t mind having you as one.

Too bad he didn’t want any friends. 

You’d have to find someone else.

Or continue alone. You didn’t really seem unhappy, anyway.

-----------------------

You were shaking out of anxiety.

Tomorrow would be the day… your parents made sure everything would end up perfect. You knew they weren’t sure if moving to Japan was a good choice, but you kept pretending everything was all right. You understood the great opportunity your dad had. It would be good for your family and good for you.

Why complain?

“How many people are coming?” your mom asked, helping you with the decorations. You didn’t really know how Japanese girls celebrated their birthdays, so you went with the things you saw on TV, and with some elements from your own culture. 

“I-I don’t know, Mom. I invited at least 50 people.”

“Fifty? So it was a good thing I bought food for 80… but I guess I should get more? And if they bring their friends?”

“Mom, really, I don’t think it’s necessary. To be honest, I’ll be glad even if only ten people come…” 

And ten is being too optimistic, you thought. After you handed people your handwritten invitations (your hand still had triggers remembering), you expected someone to come and ask you about the party.  But no one did that. And of course, you didn’t ask anyone or remind anyone. You didn’t want to sound desperate. 

“Oh, don’t be so pessimistic. I’m sure everyone will come!” your mom said, finishing the last balloon. “Everyone loves a good party and free food!”

You also finished selecting the music and the games. Your dad would bring the rest of the things that night. Maybe they were exaggerating, yeah. But you three knew what it was like living away from your homeland. It was as if they were, too, trying to be part of something there.

They wanted it to work. 

“I’m sure your friends will love it, sweetie!” your dad had said.

Friends.

This word sounded so foreign, as if it were from another language.

He’d always hit the town on Saturdays. Staying home with his mother was boring as fuck. This was just another Saturday. He’d wake up, have breakfast, and leave home until dark. 

But there was something on his mind. Something he was trying to ignore since the day he received it.

That stupid piece of paper, folded and unfolded many times that was still in his pocket. Your words seemed to weigh a ton there. 

Bullshit.

Jotaro Kujo didn’t attend birthday parties. Not even in his family. Not even his own parties since he turned 14. 

Yours wouldn’t be the first.

However, there was a voice inside his head. A weird voice, almost as if it didn’t belong to him. A voice saying that nobody would go to your party and you’d be standing there alone. 

And the image of you in the school gardens talking to the birds flashed before his eyes. And then another one, humming to yourself, a peaceful smile as you draw nonsense in your notebook.

You, alone. Waiting for people who wouldn’t appear.

“Not my problem”, he thought, lighting a cigarette as he headed downtown. 

Just in case, he re-read your address again, to be sure he wasn’t around. He didn’t want an excuse to stop by.

Nope, he wasn’t any near. You lived twenty minutes from where he was.

He gave one last long drag. 

Twenty minutes walking wasn’t that much.

Good grief.

-----------------------

It was 4:37.

No one had arrived.

“Maybe they’re just late!” your mom said, unbothered. “I remember I threw a party when I was younger, it was supposed to start at 7, but people only arrived at 8! Worst hour ever!”

“Yeah…”

But you two knew it wasn’t the case.

You looked around. The games, the songs, the fucking punching bag (you weren’t still sure where your dad got one of these) hanging from the tree in your yard… You thought about your friends back home. They’d love being there with you. They would certainly be there by now.

When you felt your eyes burning with tears, you forced them back. It wasn’t worth it.

Maybe it wasn’t about you. Maybe it was just that they didn’t know you, and you actually made them uncomfortable by inviting them.

Your mom noticed your mood changing. She offered to put everything away so you could rest. Or take some money and buy something you really wanted at the mall.

“No,” you said, standing up from the steps of your front door. “It’s my party, right? I can have fun alone.”

So you turned up the music, chose your favorite one, and started to dance. It was sad as fuck, and you’d probably cry your eyes out during the weekend. But now, you wouldn’t let anyone ruin your party. Now, you would dance your feet out, you’d sing your songs until your voice failed, you’d eat until your stomach was full.

People didn’t want to be near you? Fine. Better that way.

You didn’t need anyone anyw-

The doorbell startled both you and your mother. She looked at you, a triumphant smile on her face.

“See? They were just late! Go, I’ll be upstairs if you need me!”

“Mom!”

But she was already gone.

Who could it be?

Not even a soul spoke to you at school. Maybe your mother was right, and they just wanted free food…

When you opened the door, it took you some time to actually see the face of the person standing there, so tall he was.

“Jotaro Kujo?” 

He had his hands inside his pockets and didn’t look directly at you. First, he looked around. As if he were looking for something. Then, he faced you.

“Hi.”

“Uh- Hi.”

You stood there, the doorknob still in your hand.

“So?”

“What are you doing here?” you asked, a bit astonished. 

He sighed, and you saw a hint of impatience in his blue eyes.

“I thought you said you were having a birthday party today.”

“Ah - sure, yes. Come in. I was just -” you lowered your voice as you closed the door. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

In fact, he was the last person you thought would come over.

Yet, there was he.

Why?

“It’s undoubtedly a lively party,” he commented, walking around. 

Oh, he wanted to mock you. Not in your damn house!

“Well, you’re free to go, if it’s not your taste,” you snapped, closing your hands in fists.

He huffed.

“Actually, this is exactly my taste.”

“What do you mean?”

“This. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t be.”

So eerie , you thought, sarcastically. I bet he thought he was nonchalant and charming. 

“Okay. Help yourself, there’s plenty of food.”

Jotaro nodded, grabbing a small treat from the nearest table.

“What’s that?”

“A typical birthday candy from my country.”

He shoved it into his mouth. And his expression changed for a fraction of a second. 

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite.”

He tried some more candies with you. Then, he asked:

“Am I the only one here?”

“Unless you’re seeing spirits, yes.”

“So why was the song on? When I was at your door, I heard it and thought you had more people over.”

Oh, so that’s why he decided to come. He didn’t think you’d be alone.

“Can’t a girl dance at her own party?”

Jotaro crossed his arms. 

“I guess she can.”

“Good.”

“Can she dance with me?”

You thought you didn’t hear correctly. But then, he said:

“Don’t make me repeat.”

So, for some unknown reason, you danced together. Well, you danced, and Jotaro stood there, slightly shaking his head to the song, hands inside his pockets. 

Not even in your wildest dreams, the class bad boy, the one who almost every girl (and some boys, you knew) fancied, would be in your backyard with you, “dancing” to one of your favorite songs, the ones you used to listen to in your country, the ones your dad presented to you that were probably considered old by our generation but you didn’t care just like you didn’t care about so many things…

“Wanna play games?” you asked when you were already breathless.

“I suck at games.”

“And I don’t, so I guess it means I’m lucky because it’s my birthday!”

You played bowling, board games, and your only videogame racing game. You won all of them, and you noticed it wasn’t because he was letting you win. He really sucked. 

Sometimes, you’d catch him staring at you in that weird way you’ve seen a couple of times. Not like most of your classmates, who looked at you af if you were an ET. No, he looked at you as if you were a complicated crossword and he was spending a long time trying to figure out a word for “interesting because of being unusual” with ten letters.

Intriguing, it was the word. 

As if you were intriguing.

“Wanna see something cool?”

He shrugged. Maybe he was already tired of being at your lonely party.

“It’s over there,” you pointed at the punching bag your dad insisted on bringing. “I remembered you said you liked boxing or something.”

This last part sounded as if the punching bag was only there because of Joataro, and you wanted to be a punching bag yourself after that. The last thing you wished was to be like one of those crazy admirers he had. 

Of course, he was gorgeous; everyone with functioning eyes could see.

But it was as clear as the day that he wasn’t interested in dating anyone at school. Even you, who was still learning his language, knew that he was fed up with all that attention. And if he’d ever yelled at you the way he used to do with his fan club, you thought you’d go back to your homeland on foot.

He hummed, and you wished you could bury your face in the cake.

You looked at your new shoes, choosing your words carefully. You didn’t want him to go away, not at all. But maybe he wanted to go and was just waiting for you to say that…

“Hey, if you-”

“I’ve never practiced boxing, actually,” he said, suddenly, staring at the punching bag.

“You- Ah, I see-”

“But I do like punching stuff.”

And he threw a punch at the object. It was so powerful that the punching bag almost completed a turn on the tree branch. You whistled.

“That was a good one!”

“Not as good as the next.”

Jotaro proceeded to punch with his two arms, and you watched, astonished, how fast he did that. Almost with no effort, damn, even smiling!

A very boyish, cute smile. 

Don’t you dare , you scolded yourself. He’ll break your heart as easily as he punches this poor thing .

After many of his punches - and some of yours- he tried to teach you, but you were hopeless - you decided it was cake time.

You lit up your candles, something you’ve never done in your entire life. You could’ve called your mother, but something about being older hit you. So you sang Happy Birthday to you in your head, not expecting Jotaro to sing (you knew there were limits to his kindness). Then you closed your eyes and made a wish.

“Being happy no matter what.”

You cut the first piece of cake and handed it to him. It was your favorite flavor. Then, you cut two more for you (you could) and sat on the steps by our front door, watching the sunset. 

“It tastes nice,” he said with that deep voice of his.

“I know, right?” you said, smiling. But, just like the candles, there was something different. You’ve always loved that flavor. And it was as good as it has always been. Yet…

“What flavor is this?” he asked, seeming quite interested.

Yes, what flavor?

“Loneliness,” you whispered, and quickly looked at him. Luckily, he wasn’t paying attention. So, you shrugged, waving your hand, “It’s my favorite, of course. My birthday cake is never a surprise; I always choose the same flavor. I play safe.”

“You play dirty,” he disagreed.

“Oh, so you’re an awful player and loser?”

“Fuck off.”

It was the first time he swore at you. Well, it was also the first time you had a real conversation, anyway. But it was clear he didn’t want to offend you. So you returned his delicacy in your own language.

For your complete amusement and astonishment, he returned the kindness, saying something even worse in your language in a thick Japanese accent.

“What? Where did you learn it?”

“I do my research.” 

You laughed. Of course, he would want to learn the worst of everything.

“Gonna get more cake,” you announced.

“Bring me some more.”

“It’s my party, and you want me to bring you food?”

“And I want the cherry.”

“I’ll tell you what to do with this cherry”, you said, but you brought him some more.

It didn’t matter that you were already full; cake was always welcome.

“You know”, you said, shoving the last piece in your mouth, feeling like you could explode. And you’d die happy. “Birthday cakes are so wonderful that they should be a complement.”

He didn’t answer. When he finished his piece of cake, he stood up. You were still on the steps, and you slowly raised your head, following the length of his seemingly endless legs.

“You’re going home?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes were hidden behind his hat again. But he didn’t need to. You knew it.

“Well, thanks for coming, Jotaro. I-I had a lot of fun!” and it was true, even though you know it must have been a bore to him. “You can take cake with you. I guess we’ll have to eat cake for all three meals  for the rest of the week.”

“No, I’m all right. Well, bye,” he said awkwardly.

He turned his back, starting to walk to your door. 

-----------------------

When you started closing your door, however, his deep voice took you aback.

“I didn’t bring you any presents.”

“No need to.”

He stared at you. Your eyes weren’t red anymore, the way they were when he arrived. They were shiny.

Jotaro wasn’t sure why he went to your party or why he agreed to do everything you proposed to him. He wasn’t the kind of person who was afraid of hurting people’s feelings by telling them “no”.

Maybe because he knew that, for some reason, you wouldn’t be hurt if he told you no. 

And he realized he wanted to know what your reaction would be if he said “yes.” In a strange way, it was as if you were his little social experiment. 

It was one of the weirdest experiences of his life, going to a birthday party of someone he barely knew, playing games - good greif, he hated games - dancing - he hated it even more - and just listening to you say the most random stuff your mind could produce ("it’s okay if you dropped food, the ants are going to love it - and if they come, I’ll have even more guests!")

And yet - it wasn’t a sacrifice. 

It wasn’t boring.

He had a good time.

When you tried to close the door again, Jotaro called your name. 

“Yes?” you said, confused. Was he going away or not?

Before you could ask him this, he leaned over and touched your cheek with a quick kiss.

“Happy birthday, or whatever,” he said. And finally walked away.

You spent the rest of your night awake, staring at the ceiling, heart pounding like a monkey playing drums. 

Jotaro didn’t go straight home. He spent some more time alone, trying to make sense of what had just happened, the taste of your birthday cake still lingering on his tongue. 

One question is echoing in both your brains.

“What the fuck was that?”

-----------------------

After that day, you didn't think you'd be friends. You thought he just attended your party because he had nothing better to do and was bored.

But then, things started slowly changing. 

Next time you saw him, it was in your classroom. He was the only one to answer your habitual double good morning with a nod towards you.

Then, the week after, he started to sit with you by your usual wall to have lunch. First, in silence, only with the chirping of the birds. 

Next, you started to talk, more to train your Japanese than anything else. He agreed to help you with the condition that you'd teach him the whole list of swear words you had in your language. And he'd learned them surprisingly fast.

Things changed. Slowly. But they did. You still wanted to know what the fuck that was. For a whole year, you sat together, had lunch together, and even laughed together. But you two sucked at communication. He was silent most of the time, and you would speak nonsense. Somehow, this bizarre dynamic worked. You at least had a friend or whatever.

-----------------------

For your next birthday party, you had a few friends. Not ten. But some really nice people. 

One of them was Jotaro. He was there. He helped with the decoration. He'd bring some food himself. And he also had a present for you.

At the end of the party, he called you. He'd said he had something for you. But you saw nothing.

Then, he came one step closer. And another one. He touched your hand. And then, his lips touched yours.

It tasted like your favorite birthday cake.

Most people sucked. 

Some were meh.

Almost no one was good.

But only you were as wonderful as a birthday cake in his opinion.