the relation of art and pain | jotakak

v

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Joseph was fine with buying them a bottle of vodka and driving them back to Kakyoin's dorm, as long as Jotaro put up with his teasing. He is sure his grandpa won't spill it to Holly, but as he shoves the bottle under his jacket and lets Kakyoin lead him to his dorm room, they talk about it. Kakyoin chuckles when he says she would have both their heads, if Joseph could remember it long enough to tell her. Jotaro decides that he likes to hear him laugh.

His dorm is of the nicer variety, though Jotaro is glad he doesn't need to live in one his sophomore year. Kakyoin invites him to sit at the small, round breakfast table, situated under a window. Two beds come from one wall, with a mini fridge, built in counter, and microwave against the opposite one. A modest television occupies a stand in the corner by the door. On what he assumes is Kakyoin's bed lies a blank canvas, probably his next project. It's not near as cramped as Jotaro's dorm was last year.

He comments on this as he pours them both a glass. Kakyoin's eyes had fixated on the drink, but now he looks around the room.

"It is pretty nice," he admits. "We're thinking about getting an apartment next year, though."

"This probably cost a fortune," Jotaro says. Kakyoin nods.

"I don't know what I was thinking," he says. His voice is devoid of humor and Jotaro can sympathize. He'll be paying this room alone back for a handful of years — and even as good as Kakyoin is, Jotaro knows it's going to be more like two handfuls for an artist.

Kakyoin doesn't hesitate when he scoots his glass over. He scrunches up his face and clearly regrets his decision. "This is wretched," he says, taking another drink.

Jotaro snorts. He'd told him that he had never drank vodka before. Kakyoin doesn't seem like the type of guy to drink at all, let alone hard liquor.

Jotaro's first drink is more welcomed. Vodka has a special place in his heart, despite the love-hate relationship he has with it. An ex-friend was still a friend at one time. Vodka was his only companion during his parent's divorce, his grandma's death, and moving to a new country, among the usual woes of a seventeen year old. He frowns into his glass as he takes a heartier drink. He doesn't like to acknowledge that he started drinking so young.

Instead, he watches Kakyoin. A half hour of small talk comes and goes. Jotaro finds himself engaged regardless of its unimportance. Kakyoin's cheeks begin to tinge red and he smiles more and Jotaro realizes how cute he is, and all of a sudden, he's much closer than Jotaro had remembered. His hand on his arm is innocent, but it still makes him wish he had his hat to hide behind.

His fingers curl into Jotaro's sleeve as he has a realization. "Y'know, Jean is twenty-five..." Kakyoin says. "He could've bought us this."

He begins to laugh a little, and then a lot. Jotaro can't help but join him, hoping it's a good enough cover that Kakyoin won't question why his face is so flushed.

"That would've been a better idea," Jotaro admits. He doesn't realize Kakyoin has gone quiet until he shakes his arm a little. His voice is serious, as if what he's about to say is urgent.

"Hey. Your laugh is really nice."

Jotaro feels himself smile instinctively, but he tries to hide it by rubbing his face with his hand. A weak yeah is all he can manage in response.

"You're so shy, Jotaro. It's cute," he compliments.

Kakyoin's stupid, cheesy grin makes it difficult to slow his racing mind, and Jotaro feels his chest tighten. The sensation reminds him of the binge drinks he had when he was younger, the ones he hates himself for every night. This time, though, it's not the alcohol's fault.

"Yeah," he says again, unable to conjure up something better.

"There's a reason I draw you so much, you know. That's part of it."

Looking into Kakyoin's eyes, Jotaro shifts in his seat. There's a sincerity behind it that he hopes — prays — is not the liquor talking. A sincerity that makes Jotaro realize why he's been so accommodating with Kakyoin, why the redhead makes him feel at ease to be around.

Kakyoin is a bit odd. He talks in clipped, disjointed sentences and often jumps from topic to topic mid conversation; he twirls his stray curls and taps his pencils and pens with a vengeance; he doesn't smile often and his voice betrays even less emotion. Although he's friendly enough, he remains reserved in a way that Jotaro can respect.

And Jotaro is beginning to think he's more than simply attracted to his little quirks.

He takes another drink, and allows Kakyoin's hand to slip into his own. It's warm and his fingers are slender, and Jotaro smiles as Kakyoin leans his head on his shoulder, rambling away.