a/n: just a heads up: reader cannot see stands but they are aware of them. i wrote this in what i feel like a non-stand user would experience. more notes at the end of the story! reader has gender neutral pronouns btw. one more thing: wattpad was shitting all over saving my drafts so if there are any glaring errors please let me know (aside from me bein bad at writing ha)
Hours spent studying psychology textbooks and monitoring the life and habits of Rohan Kishibe was what comprised most of your college life. Rohan came as a 'bonus', he would call himself, but in reality, he was your final exam grade. The manga artist prized himself on his flawless art and storytelling abilities— surely you could appreciate this— if you knew who he was. Rohan Kishibe was nothing more than another stranger to you in Morioh, sans the acquaintances you shared. You heard enough horror stories about him. A bullheaded, pompous asshole who could hardly keep the mild-mannered Koichi Hirose around.
How you got into this situation, of mutual benefits, you couldn't quite comprehend. Rohan would leech off of your life for manga content, and you would sit in the corner of his office and stare blankly at him with tired eyes, taking down notes of his telling actions and little discussions he shared with you.
Rohan clearly had issues with narcissism. He was confident in himself and his abilities, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing— except that he took it to ridiculous lengths, and destroyed any relationships he cultivated over the years. Sure, he could say in Morioh that he had Koichi and you; but in the big city, Rohan Kishibe was friendless and uninspired. In truth, you didn't need to be here. You didn't need to choose him as your final subject. You could've chosen Josuke, and analyzed his interesting misborn child relationship with his aging father. Okuyasu, even, with his slight brother complex and his father's... inhuman form. You had a multitude of choices presented before you, and you went with the egotistical mangaka that held himself on a pedestal higher than anyone on earth. Why?
The aura he carried, the way he presented himself— it was something you envied. His confidence, although overabundant, was something you lacked. The certainty he had in his actions and his work was something you desired for yourself. If you studied him with conviction, surely you'd be able to become this dogmatic. Rohan Kishibe was a subject at face value, and an inspiration in your mind.
"[name], I need some more ink. Because of my feeling benevolent today, I'll let you fetch it from the shelf." It was seven pm and the setting sun illuminated the hard at work manga artist with a beautiful array of orange and yellow. Undoubtedly this was the peak of his elegance each day, early evening.
"Gee, thank you for this opportunity." You were quick to snap back, but you'd bring him more ink anyways. Hindering the work of the renown Rohan was a heinous crime in the world of artistry.
"I'm sure you'll look back on this with fervor. Not everyone gets the chance to assist me in my work, after all."
"I suppose you ought to feel blessed that you get to work with me too. Not everyone gets the chance to assist me in my work, after all." You should've kept your tongue in your cheek, but the appeal of teasing Rohan Kishibe was too great. He desired someone who could be on his wavelength, so you'd make an effort to do so. Unless what he truly wanted was a person who'd keep their mouth shut. You doubted that.
Rohan sighed, of what you could assume was annoyance. Your response hadn't wiped the pompous smirk off his face, though. "You think you're such an enigma, [name]."
"'Scuse me?" You perched yourself in your chair in the corner again, knees tucked against your chest and notebook shut. You'd taken enough notes today; now it was merely an excuse to hang around Rohan for a while longer.
He turned in his swivelling seat to look at you, assurance in his eyes. He knew something you didn't; this you were certain of. "You know I can literally read you like a book, so why don't you just tell me how you really feel about me? Actually- I'll do it for you."
Rohan cleared his throat and gripped his chest, for drama. He began to speak with an over exaggerated high voice, implied only to imitate you. "Master Rohan, I adore you! No, I think I'm in love with you! Your confidence and talent makes you so desirable, I can't believe I've fallen for such an unattainable man!"
"Okay, 'Master Rohan'. Why do I sound like a some manga protagonist?" You were fuming, toes curling and fingernails biting into your palms. You had three options now. A, completely blow up and lose your cool. B, stay calm and address the situation. C, walk right out the door.
How could Rohan possibly pick that up from you? You were sure that you only admired his belief in himself. If you did like him for more than that, it was something you suppressed.
"That's just how I read you. You're not as bland as the usual characters, but you're close enough given the dialogue." Rohan was totally, completely relaxed with you and the confession that didn't even come out of your mouth. This didn't make sense in any context; when did you develop feelings for this man, how, and why hadn't you realized it? "Did you think I couldn't read the little inscriptions on your edges? They stick out on your pages more than you think."
"...conceited bastard like you." You could barely speak more than a grumble. You hastened to stand and look right at Rohan, eye contact and all, but you couldn't muster up the courage to look any higher than his ankles.
"What was that? I'm sorry, but you really need to speak up."
"I said, I couldn't love a conceited bastard like you! I don't know what you think you've read, but it's... it's not true. Maybe I was in love with your ego... but not you." You turned quickly on your heel and kept your head forward; exiting was all you desired. You didn't want to convince yourself to turn back around and apologize or make up an excuse for your backlash.
Whether you 'loved' him or not... it wasn't supposed to come out this way.
•••
You kept yourself busy with your final exam paper. Even without going to his house and studying him, Rohan occupied your mind. This was a given due to him being your main subject. It was too late to change people and get as much information as you had now. Two months spent in close quarters with someone would tell you a lot about them. Rohan had it easy, for the most part. Minus the alleged developing feelings towards him, he could learn all about you just by using his stand. Those tiny words of adoration written in the margins weren't always there. He had to read you consistently to pick up on that.
The unrelenting phone calls weren't enough to sate his desire to be a pest. Koichi being in school during the daytime was a problem for him, so all that remained was you. And you weren't going to be there. The first call of the afternoon. You couldn't be certain it wasn't Rohan. There was always the lingering chance it was your mother asking about your studies or a friend back in Tokyo wanting you to visit. "Hello?"
"It's me, but if that isn't enough information for you, it's Rohan, calling. I need you to accompany me to—"
"Yup, bye." The phone receiver was too willing to accept your rejection.
Brrrring. You could deduce who it was this time, so picking up wouldn't be necessary.
Back to work on your thesis. Famous Japanese Mangaka Rohan Kishibe is an overbearing, obnoxious— Too personal. You scribbled out the sentence.
Manga Artist behind "Pink Dark Boy", Rohan Kishibe exhibits textbook symptoms of Narcissistic Personality Disorder—
A drastic improvement from your first. If you involved your feelings too much in your essay, there was no way you'd pass. You had to be professional. You'd forgotten this along the way. Rohan made you forget just how to be normal, to address your work with professionalism, and maybe that's because he didn't do that. He was solely driven by the desire to create something decent, something worthwhile.
"You're sitting in your house moping about?" A firm and calloused hand grazed your shoulder.
"Shit!" You whipped your head around to get a good look at your intruder. It was Rohan; you could've guessed it, really. Your own foolishness contributed to your downfall. "How the hell did you get in here?" You turned back around in your chair and stared at your rough draft. "No, wait— don't answer, just leave."
"I won't leave yet, but thank you for the invitation. You declined mine today, so I figured it'd be appropriate to pay my favorite student a visit." You could hear Rohan toying with the little ceramic bunnies that sat atop your television, picking them up one by one and blowing the dust off of them.
"You mean Koichi, right? He lives down the street."
"I don't mean Koichi. I just figured hearing that kind of thing would be up your alley." He finished fumbling around with your decor and settled down on one of the arms of your lumpy old sofa.
"Oh please. I can't appreciate hollow words." You turned your head to glance at him, sitting on the wrong part of your couch, but tasteful nonetheless. He was easy to admire even when you were convinced you'd been angry with him. This wasn't fair, it never was.
"You of all people should know me well enough. Why would I say something so empty and fake? It does me no good, and I assume it isn't any better for you."
"So you mean it, then."
"Isn't that what I just said?"
You scoffed. "Being your favorite is irrelevant to me."
"Fine. Don't accept my gracious compliments. You know, I truly thought our wavelengths were beginning to sync up, but maybe that was my imagination? No matter." You could hear the creaking of Rohan's footsteps inch closer to you. Any focus you had on your paper had completely vanished now that he came around.
"What are you doing? I said get out of he—" Rohan spun your chair around and took hold of your chin tightly. He must've had his stand out, because whenever he messed around in your head you were the recipient of an unbearable splitting feeling cursing your skull. "Ugh, this hurts like hell, you know that. Get your stand off me."
"Just hold still. I'll make everything okay again." Rohan fished a pen from his tote bag and began to 'write', something he said was editing was also piercing your body from your eyes to your toes. "All done."
You heaved a breath of relief. "What did you do?"
"I made things a bit easier for myself. But don't fret, you'll benefit too." Rohan dropped his pen into his bag and looked down at you. It wasn't a position you found yourself in often, physically. He was always looking down at you from his pedestal in the emotional and verbal sense.
"That's too vague. Tell me what you wrote."
"'I must always forgive Rohan Kishibe.'"
You felt a pang of anger surge through you momentarily, before it subsided. Any feelings of distraught and madness you had towards Rohan were gone, filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt and forgiveness towards him. Your mind wanted to declare that you hated him, but your tongue wouldn't allow it.
"A...Anything else?" You could barely speak a word of your own. Everything you wanted to say would imply that you hadn't forgiven him, therefore it was unspeakable.
"I could've wrote much worse, something like 'I will be Rohan Kishibe's slave' so you ought to be thankful. Maybe I should've done that... It'd make my life a lot easier." Rohan shrugged his shoulders as if the entire situation was something to be taken lightly. Perhaps it was to him. You could be just a plaything for him to toy with, but there was no way to truly know this.
"Why have you been screwing me over lately? Do you hate me?" These were the words you could finally manage. Not unforgiving, not loathing. Salty tears spilled onto your cheekbones as you began to sob, right into Rohan's midriff. His skin was soft, but his heart was not. Surely the artist was wearing a look of disgust, when you rubbed your crying eyes against his flesh.
"I wouldn't want your forgiveness if I hated you." You could sense that Rohan didn't know what he was doing. He put one of his hands on your head, but it was hesitant. His movements were akin to a baby learning how to walk; unsure, but going for it anyways. "So... you're not really someone I hate."
•••
Rohan sat on the couch with you in the deafening quiet of your home. You rested your head on his shoulder and he stroked your hair with a carefulness nobody had ever given you before— it was a nice change.
"My father used to do this for my mother when she was upset, if you were curious." Rohan's muscular body was a new experience to snuggle up against. He was warm in contrast to his icy personality.
"I figured you were just doing something you picked up in a manga, but I like it nonetheless."
"Although a great portion of my life is manga, there's still a remaining bit I spend doing other things." You could feel Rohan sigh. He was probably holding himself back from saying something conceited and snarky, an action that you could appreciate. Even Rohan Kishibe was aware of when he was barely treading water.
"I suppose you do eat and sleep sometimes." You smirked into the crook of his neck. "Hey... Rohan?"
"What is it?"
"This isn't going to be a one time thing, right?" You withdrew yourself from Rohan's body heat to look at him with clearer eyes. You didn't want to be comforted by him just once. The craving to be embraced by him genuinely was too great to spend a lifetime waiting for.
"I can't picture myself doting on you often... But I can't say I dislike stroking your hair."
That was all you needed. Rohan Kishibe wasn't going to be straightforward with his feelings... but you had to accept that if you wanted to experience this closeness again.
"I feel as though I should point this out, however. Heaven's Door never really proved that you were interested in me romantically or not. It was just an inference."
"I guess you're pretty damn lucky that I have no choice in forgiving you."
a/n cont: sorry if he's super ooc, i just had an idea and went with it. yeehaw. also something important to note (imo): reader's term paper is just a project, idk why i wrote it differently so many times. it's a project, it's a paper, whatever strikes your fancy.