the relation of art and pain | jotakak

xxi

Jotaro has not put much thought into why he smokes, and even less thought into whether he would ever quit or not. Carelessness is what brought him back to it, recently. Carelessness is the thing that let him pick it up again and hopelessness let him keep at it. As he looks around his room for somewhere to stash the small packet, he realizes that if he hides them, if he allows them to lay around where he knows they are, he will only dig them out again.

One option is to throw them away. Bury them under trash, so Holly won't see them and question him. Another is to tell her, and have her dispose of them. The look that would be on her face isn't worth it.

The third, and one he chooses, is to throw them away somewhere else. Jotaro wants the time to think and the exercise, so he opts for the metro station. More people have thrown away worse things than a couple smokes there.

It's becoming late. Both the sun and Holly had turned in long ago. The air grows colder the closer it comes to winter break, making it unpleasant and difficult to smoke anyways.

He's quit cold turkey once before, and he knows it will never work, even with the progress he's made in his life since then. A year ago, admitting that he is no stronger than anyone else is would have made Jotaro feel weak — now, he acknowledges it's only a fact. He pats his pocket and feels his wallet. If he's going to be in the station, he might as well head into town and get... well, something. He's vaguely aware of things that help with nicotine withdrawal, but he doesn't know what they are by name.

Dumping the cigarettes into the trashcan relieves a weight Jotaro had not realized was on his shoulders. He puts his hands in his pockets and waits for the next train into town. An odd time on a Sunday night before midterm week begins, he doesn't see many people his age waiting around. The crowd that joins him on the train consists of the last ditch Christmas buyer types and night shift workers.

Jotaro finds an odd charm in the metro. Sure, it's rather dingy at times. The older trains, adorned with stained carpet and untrustworthy cloth seats, are things he's had to adapt to. The metro is somewhat familiar, though. Even if he has grown less homesick for Japan, the smooth rocking of the trains is soothing to his nerves.

He decides to try the tobacco shop first. Selling what he's looking for would be counterproductive of one, but it seems like best start. The cashier gives him an unenthusiastic greeting. They're different from the last time Jotaro was there, so he doesn't bother to say anything beyond hello.

Being in the store after deciding he's done with cigarettes is unpleasant, to say the least. The wall of cigarette packs behind the counter makes his palms itch, the cases of beer in the middle of the small shop force a bad taste into his mouth. He wants to buy a six pack and go home, to replace one bad habit with another. Instead, Jotaro shoves his hands back in his pockets and attempts to clear his mind.

Nodding to the cashier, he leaves feeling disappointed. He could have asked them for advice, but Jotaro is wasting time to put off the migraine that comes with studying for English.

He's bumped into while distracted. When he looks up to apologize, he sees a familiar face.

"Jotaro!" Jean says. "You smoke?"

It's casual and friendly. "Not anymore," he says.

Jean raises an eyebrow. "So you're buying smokes for someone else?"

"What? No." He almost forgets where they're standing, realizing how suspicious that sounds. "I'm, uh... I'm quitting."

"At the smoke shop?" He teases.

"I just tossed my last pack," Jotaro says. He struggles to think of what words he wants to use. "I thought maybe they'd have that withdrawal stuff, the—"

"The nicotine patches and all?" Jean asks helpfully.

"Yeah."

"I did the same thing when I quit," Jean explains. Jotaro must look surprised, because he offers him a smile. "You know where the pharmacy is?"

"No," Jotaro admits.

"I was getting Nori some more paint," he says. "But he won't care if I take a little longer. C'mon."

Jotaro isn't sure what inspires him to follow Jean. Whether it's the assertive way he says it or the fact that Jotaro is ready to be at home, he doesn't know.

Jean offers small talk along the way, mostly advice on quitting that Jotaro is thankful for. The five years between them seem to expand to something more substantial, and Jotaro begins to understand what the man's appeal is. He's like a father, jumping at the opportunity to help Jotaro out for no reason other than helping him. Though Jotaro could easily doubt that last part, Jean has proven to be a decent guy.

In truth, it makes him feel a tad special. Jean is fine with wasting time walking him to the pharmacy, and while Jotaro doesn't exactly need that, it's so much easier to find the right thing and go. Besides, he's been trying to appreciate people's help lately.

Self improvement, or something like that.

With Jean's experience and his worries about Holly finding anything too large or conspicuous, Jotaro decides to first give the gum a shot.

Jean must sense his nerves as they walk back towards the metro station, for he strikes up another conversation. "What's making you quit?" He asks.

Jotaro frowns. He isn't sure of the answer to that, and is even less keen on figuring it out. "I need to," he says simply.

"You're gonna need a better reason than that," Jean suggests. His tone is kind, as if he made the same mistake as Jotaro did. "In a week you will, at least."

"Encouraging."

Jean chuckles. "It's gonna be hard. Trust me."

"I know," Jotaro says.

Jean is quiet for a moment, before he says, "If you want help, support or anything... you let me know."

Jotaro can feel his eyes on him, but he doesn't turn to look at him. The simple offer means a lot more to him than he's willing to admit. "Thanks."