Chapter Text
Jotaro Kujo didn’t consider himself a desperate man -
“Jotaro, wait.”
- but even he had his limits.
“Don’t-”
This morning, fate was rapidly pushing him towards those limits.
Thunk.
He brought a hand down, slamming it against the side of the coffee machine in front of him in a last ditch effort to get it working. It belched out a disgusting mixture of old grounds, stale water, and god knew what else, splashing the bottom of the glass pot, before making a whining noise and shutting off entirely.
From his position at Jotaro’s side, Avdol sighed. “I think you killed it.”
Impossible.
This coffee machine had been around since 1978. It had provided countless biology graduate students sustenance during their long hours poring over articles in the lounge. It had provided a space for conversations, a place to shoot the shit as people checked their mailboxes; a thousand grants had been proposed in this very space, at its very feet. It had survived power surges, campus blackouts, and even the one incident in living memory of someone breaking into the building.
(Honestly, they shouldn’t have bothered - the only machinery you could physically carry out were the computers. And while Jotaro didn’t know much about computers, a fucking kid could’ve deduced that those machines in the basement were shit).
So the idea that he, Jotaro Kujo, would be the ultimate demise of this ancient, benevolent espresso machine was patently ridiculous.
It was also, unfortunately, true.
“What the hell’s wrong with it?” he demanded, hitting it again. This time, sparks started to fly out of the socket where it was connected to the wall, and Avdol hastily reached forward and unplugged it.
“We should probably put an out of order sign on it. So no one tries to use it and accidentally sets the place on fire.”
“C’mon.”
Thunk.
He hit it one last time for good measure, and all he got was another half-hearted stream of dirty brown water falling into the pot.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
“Here, I’ll take that.” Avdol reached forward to grab the pot, throwing the contents into the nearby sink and rinsing it out. “You move it away from the wall. I’ll send an email to Karen - she can probably use your department’s discretionary funds to buy another.”
Jotaro scowled down at the stainless steel contraption, but since the damn thing was still smoking slightly around the edges, he did as Avdol advised. The last thing he needed today was to accidentally commit arson.
Dammit, all he wanted was a coffee.
He’d woken up late, having stayed up into the early hours of the morning reading research articles for his animal behavior class. He hadn’t meant to - he’d planned to go to bed at ten or eleven. But they were just… interesting. He’d read the first, and then started the second, and before he knew it, all six articles had been thoroughly annotated and his fingers were black with printer ink.
It had also been three in the morning. At that point, it had been too late to salvage his sleep schedule. He’d begrudgingly set an alarm, accepting that he’d feel like utter dogshit today. But then said alarm hadn’t gone off, and he realized after the fact that he’d set it for seven p.m. instead of seven a.m. He’d missed his bus, which meant he also missed the animal behavior class he’d stayed up all night reading for, and in his haste to reach said bus, he’d even forgotten to grab his coffee off the counter in his apartment.
It didn’t sound like much. A minor inconvenience, at most.
But here’s the thing.
You didn’t survive graduate school without caffeine.
Between the reading and the grading and all of the stupid colloquiums and panels your advisor made you attend because it “enriched” you as a student and helped guide your future academic careers (read: they had organized the event and wanted to ensure at least some level of student participation), you either caffeinated up or you withered and died. You drank it in the morning to wake you up. You drank in the middle of the day to get you through that annoying biostatistics class you didn't actually give a shit about. You drank it in the afternoon while you were running samples, and at night while you were grading assignments for your TA placement.
If you could put it in an IV and shoot it directly into your system, you’d do that.
Jotaro didn’t even really like coffee. But it was better than the vile pink and green energy drinks they sold at the vending machines on campus, and the only other viable option was actual drugs.
Which, you know, no.
Maybe he’d go and bum one off the old man. He had an espresso machine in his office, one of those fancy Italian ones that steamed the milk and created perfect cappuccinos with little hearts carved into the foam. A side effect of having married an Italian woman, he’d once told Jotaro - he accepted nothing less than perfection when it came to coffee.
It would be a hassle going to see him; there was no such thing as a quick, painless visit where Joseph Joestar was concerned. But to prevent the caffeine headache he could already feel pounding at his temples, sacrifices had to be made.
He turned to Avdol - as the man’s post doc, he’d know whether his grandfather was in today or not.
To his inward dismay, that too wasn’t an option.
“Sorry, Jotaro, but Mr. Joestar is out for the rest of the week. He got called away to a dig in Mexico late last night. I’m filling in for him until he gets back.”
“What.”
“Oh yes, they found some more ruins at one of the excavation sites. They’re hoping he can put to rest any rumors that this is another one of those infernal masks they found a few decades ago-”
Jotaro scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. Now what was he supposed to do?
…he could always go to the cafeteria. There were plenty of coffee machines there; surely, one would work for him. But that meant dragging himself all the way across campus, past the dorms, through the crowded student center, and braving the end-of-the-semester hordes. He hated the cafeteria.
It was almost as bad as the cafe across the street, which he had to avoid for other reasons.
But he really didn’t have too many options here. He hadn’t anticipated the biology department coffee machine breaking; it was, after all, older than fucking dirt and had worked just fine yesterday.
Avdol chuckled, picking up the paper to-go cup in front of him and taking a sip. “Don’t look so put out, Jotaro, I’m sure they can have a replacement here within a week.”
“I’m not - hey. You have coffee.”
Avdol blinked, looking down at the cup in his hands. “This? Technically, it’s tea.”
“Where did you get that?”
“Actually, I got it at the art department.”
…huh.
“They have a surprisingly good selection - bagged and loose leaf, if you’re into that sort of thing.”
“You just - walked into the art department and grabbed a cup of tea.”
“I do it all the time.”
That didn’t make much sense to Jotaro. The idea of walking into another building and just - grabbing a drink and leaving. But then again, Avdol probably wasn’t a stranger to the art building; Avdol was friendly and traveled and enjoyed art. He probably visited all the time to see the student exhibitions they put up in the hallways, knew the faculty members on a first name basis.
“They have coffee too.”
Fuck it.
What other options did he have? The art department was just around the corner too, so he could be there and back in a flash. And hey, was it really so different from going and grabbing a soda out of another building’s vending machine? His mind made up, he pushed off the counter and headed for the exit, nodding at Avdol’s murmured farewell.
It was easy enough to find his way to the lounge once he got next door; everything was set up in a similar fashion as his own, the entire building one large square with various rooms branching off the main hallway. He turned right at the front desk, ignoring the look the administrative assistant sent him and trying to act as if he belonged here and knew where he was going. From there, it was a short walk down the hall to a cozy little room on the left filled with chairs, magazines, and tables. And sure enough, there it was - a coffee machine sat tucked away on a counter lining the opposite wall, between the refrigerator and little wire rack holding various teabags, packets of sweeteners, and containers of creamer.
He took a step into the room, intent on his prize. Finally, one fucking thing going right -
“Um, can I help you?”
Jotaro froze, glancing across the room. Shit, he’d thought it was empty in here. He’d been counting on it being empty. Otherwise, how would he explain what he was doing here?
The guy who’d spoken looked confused more than anything. Nestled into the back corner of the room, a sketchpad in his lap and several photos strewn across the table in front of him, he had a shock of red hair and vivid purple eyes. He looked young, maybe Jotaro’s age - too young to be a professor. But definitely older than an undergraduate student; his face was too angular for that, too mature, no baby fat or roundness stubbornly clinging to his face, and there was something of a line in his forehead that creased when he moved his eyebrows.
“Did you hear me?”
No. He hadn’t. He’d been a little preoccupied with trying to decide whether the guy in front of him was pretty or handsome (both?) to have actually heard him.
Sensing the guy was still expecting an answer, Jotaro finally managed to grunt out, “No.”
That got him a sigh. “I said, this room is for faculty and staff only.”
Oh.
Well, fuck. He’d known Avdol had made it seem too easy.
“If you’re looking for a specific person, I’d try their office. And if you’re just looking to bum free drinks out of us, I’d suggest you try the coffee shop across the street. I hear that, as a business, they’re open to the general public.”
Jotaro scowled at the open condescension. “I can’t go across the street.”
The man lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? You’re physically incapable of walking there and back again?”
“...no.”
“You don’t have any cash on you?”
“...I have money.”
“It sounds to me like you can go, you just don’t want to - and that’s not my problem.”
He didn’t understand. Jotaro couldn’t go across the street because his stupid sixteen year old uncle worked there part-time. He couldn’t take a step into the place without getting accosted by him and his friends, who had for some reason decided Jotaro was “cool”. And since it was impossible to really know Josuke’s schedule, Jotaro just avoided the place at all costs.
But he didn’t know how to explain that to a stranger, so he just tugged irritably at his hat and stuffed his hands into his pocket.
“Look,” he muttered, “I just need coffee.”
The guy shot him an incredulous look, as if he couldn’t understand what Jotaro was still doing there.
“My friend - he came here and got some.”
“Is your friend an art student?”
“No.”
“Then he probably got his drink at the cafe on the second floor by the student gallery.”
Like a normal person, was the bit he left unsaid.
“Where did you even come from? This has to be the most out-of-the-way building on campus. There’s nothing else around here except the parking lot.” The guy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You do go to school here, right?”
Jotaro didn’t really like that implication - that he perhaps shouldn’t be there, that he was there for something other than the entire benign cup of coffee he wanted. “I’m not a thief or something,” he retorted.
“In that outfit?”
The man dragged his eyes up and down Jotaro’s frame, from his head all the way to his feet, and even though he was moderately ticked off, Jotaro couldn’t deny that it… did something to him. Made him feel hot and cold at the same time, like he wanted to take a step forward while taking a step backwards. But now wasn’t really the time for that, so he squashed that warm, spiky feeling down and glared across the room instead.
“Again, you didn’t answer my question - which isn’t really helping to persuade me that you aren’t some kind of miscreant.”
“Biology,” he ground out. “I’m a doctoral candidate in Tanaka’s lab.”
That seemed to surprise the other guy. Jotaro wasn’t sure if he should feel smug or insulted. Probably the latter; people always assumed that because of his size and stature, he was dumber than a bag of bolts. It had made him angry when he was younger, enough that he’d gotten into more than a few fistfights over it. Which also really didn’t help with those assumptions.
It’d been a bit of a vicious cycle, really.
Now though, he’d found he didn’t care. Let people think what they wanted of him; he couldn’t change their opinions. And if they were going to immediately pigeonhole him into that sort of box, well… maybe their opinions weren’t worth shit anyways.
The guy recovered, shaking his head a little as if to clear his thoughts. It made the long, dangling earrings he wore dance around his throat.
“Well, doesn’t the biology building have a coffee machine?” he demanded.
“...I broke it.”
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
Then, the red-haired man burst out laughing.
Jotaro didn’t see what was so funny.
“Are you serious?” the man asked, a smirk making his wide set mouth curl up at the edges.
“Yes,” he ground out.
“Oh, for heaven’s - fine. Grab a coffee. I suppose once won’t hurt.”
He finally looked back down at his sketchbook then, still shaking his head, and Jotaro found himself feeling strangely bereft. Still, he wasn’t about to lose this chance - he quickly busied himself with pouring a cup of coffee, foregoing any cream or sugar in his haste to get the lid on and get out the door. The sooner this odd encounter was over with, the better.
He’d just stuck a little cardboard sleeve on his cup when the other guy looked up again.
“Thanks for the laugh. I know you probably didn’t intend it, but you’ve made my morning.” This time, he offered Jotaro a smile that was considerably more friendly than the sneer he’d given him earlier.
Jotaro wasn’t sure what to make of that, or the way his stomach felt like it fell down to his knees and then rocketed back up. So he left, clutching his coffee like a lifeline with one hand and tugging his hat down over his eyes with the other.
Avdol was still sitting at the same table when Jotaro returned, back to perusing the various articles spread out before him. He looked up when Jotaro arrived, nodding at the cup in his hands.
“I see you were successful.”
Jotaro slunk down into the chair across from him, snorting. “I guess.” He eyes Avdol suspiciously. "Say, Avdol - where did you get that tea, exactly?"
"Oh, the cafe on the second floor. I can never remember the name of it. But it's very good." He paused, as if finally wondering why Jotaro had asked such a thing, and glanced down at the cup in his hands. "Where did you go, Jotaro?"
"Same."
"That doesn't look like a-"
"What are these?" Jotaro interrupted, motioning to a stack of a papers almost five inches high that hadn’t been there when Jotaro had left.
“Oh, yes, Professor Armstrong swung by a couple of minutes ago and asked me to give these to you. I believe it’s the exams from your section of the one hundred class.”
Fuck. That was a lot of tests.
“He said he needs them graded by tomorrow.”
Fuck.
Noriaki Kakyoin had never really thought of himself as particularly violent -
But some people here really tested his patience.
He narrowed his eyes, watching the group of students in the corner of the student gallery mock the collection of drawings hanging on the wall. It was a series of nudes, studies of the male and female figure - very simple and tasteful, classic poses. He’d done a similar set when he’d been in undergrad, though those sketches paled in comparison to the work displayed here.
But show a group of eighteen year old's a bunch of nipples and penises, and it was one step up from a riot.
He rolled his eyes, trying to focus on the form in front of him. He was supposed to be spending his time monitoring the gallery ordering new supplies for the department; they were out of several different kinds of paint, Professor Samuels’ brushes were in an absolutely appalling state of disrepair, and you could never have too many sketchbooks or blank canvases. No one else had bothered to notice the state of their supplies, so Kakyoin had taken it upon himself to restock the cabinets. It wasn’t a particularly hard task. It should’ve taken him less than twenty minutes.
He just kept getting distracted by the cackles across the room; this group was even worse than usual, made all the worse by the fact that they were only there to get a participation credit. The school insisted that undergraduate students attended various events and shows on campus each semester in addition to attending classes. Plays, lectures, art shows and musical performances. It was supposed to give them a better appreciation for the arts, a good foundation for their future careers, regardless of what those careers might be… or something like that.
What it really meant was that students came and visited the art gallery because they had to, not because they wanted to, and if Kakyoin had to hear one more joke about chodes he was going to chuck a pencil across the room and be done with them.
His phone buzzed just then, a blessed distraction from both his order form and the undergrads. He flipped over to his messages, unsurprised to find it was from his roommate, Polnareff.
< Polnareff > there is absolutely nothing to eat in this house
< Polnareff > except week old take out
< Polnareff > c’est dégoûtant
Kakyoin snorted, rapidly typing back a response.
< Kakyoin > Yes, well, it was your turn to go grocery shopping
< Kakyoin > I told you we were getting low on things
Polnareff ignored the accusation, as usual.
< Polnareff > you want to go someplace on campus?
< Polnareff > my treat
Kakyoin considered. He was getting hungry, and Polnareff wasn’t wrong; he had seen two packets of instant ramen and a jar of peanut butter in the cabinets when he’d left home this morning, and that certainly didn’t make much of a meal.
< Kakyoin > Where do you want to go?
< Kakyoin > And do not say pancakes, we’ve had pancakes five times this month
Polnareff sent him a very distressed looking emoji.
< Polnareff > but I like pancakes!
< Polnareff > tu es mechant
A loud banging noise followed by several hushed hisses made Kakyoin look up from his phone. The group of students were hurriedly picking up a stand of flyers they’d knocked over, looking over their shoulders to make sure Kakyoin hadn’t noticed. He sent them as icy a look as possible while they collected the scattered papers, making sure they’d cleaned up the mess before he looked to see what Polnareff had sent him back.
< Polnareff > sushi?
< Kakyoin > Pol, you don’t like sushi
< Polnareff > non
< Polnareff > but you do
< Polnareff > you’re having a bad day, yes?
< Polnareff > so, sushi
Despite himself, Kakyoin smiled. Though he was a bit of an idiot, Polnareff wasn’t a bad guy. Quite the opposite, in fact; he was loyal and patient and surprisingly observant when he wanted to be. He must’ve picked up on Kakyoin’s less than enthusiastic responses to his text messages from earlier in the day and decided that he needed some cheering up.
It was unnecessary, really. The day hadn’t been terrible. Nothing bad had happened.
He just felt… off. Muted. Dull.
Maybe it was the time of year. The days were growing darker, and the weather had gotten a bit brisker; his funds for the semester were running out, which meant he was buying most things on credit. He had more assignments than ever and what felt like half the time to complete them. His master’s portfolio was due soon, and he had less than half the pieces that he’d wanted to have by this point in his academic career. His main piece, ironically a series of sketches on the human figure, was a complete disaster. He still hadn’t even found a model.
It was disheartening, to say the least, and it certainly didn’t help that all of the people around him seemed to be in such good moods. The holidays, the holiday break, the parties before the holiday break - it seemed like there was something to look forward to for just about everyone else he knew. But he didn’t like parties, he didn’t have a place to go for the break, and he certainly didn’t have enough money to go on some kind of winter vacation. His plans included really knuckling down on his projects and taking advantage of the after-holiday sales to be found at the grocery stores.
And wine.
Copious amounts of wine. More than probably good for him (or his credit card).
But he shouldn’t dwell on that. He should try to focus on the good things in his life. Like Polnareff, and his attempts at cheering him up.
< Kakyoin > Sushi sounds great
< Kakyoin > The gallery closes at five
< Polnareff > super!
There was a series of emojis after that, starting with the thumbs up sign and ending with the champagne glass and fireworks burst. Kakyoin shook his head fondly and shoved his phone back in his pants, not bothering to type out a response.
He had about ten minutes left until he closed everything up for the night. To be honest, he’d probably do it as soon as this last group left. So he buckled down and finally filled out his order form, submitting it just as it hit the top of the hour.
Setting his iPad aside with a sigh, he looked up, ready to usher the annoying kids out of the room. To his surprise, they were already gone. He must’ve missed them leaving.
They hadn’t come and gotten their participation cards punched.
He smirked, unable to keep himself from taking a little petty satisfaction in the fact that they wouldn’t even get credit for having come here. Maybe if they’d bothered to read the information sheet in the hall…
With a practiced hand, he went around the room and turned off the display lights. He righted the couple of frames that had been knocked askew and tied up the bag in the wastebasket; he’d leave it outside the door for the janitors to pick up when they did their rounds later. One final walkthrough, making sure no one had left anything on the ground, and he’d be finished.
He paused at the floor-to-ceiling window on the far side of the hall, noticing an irritating smudge of… something on the glass. It looked like jelly. He hoped it was jelly. Grabbing a paper towel, he quickly attacked the mark, using his fingernail to really scrape at the gunk.
He’d just gotten the last bit of it when something outside caught his eyes.
It was a tall man, walking out of the building next door, stupidly long white coat blowing wildly in the wind, equally stupid white hat being nearly tugged off the head of black curls to whom it belonged. He had what looked like a small glass aquarium under one arm, and a stack of papers in the other.
How very odd.
Kakyoin was sure it was the same guy who’d barged into the student lounge earlier today, frantically in search of a cup of coffee. How many other people were there on campus wearing such an outfit?
Huh.
I guess he really was a biology student, he mused.
Not that he thought the guy had been lying. He’d seemed embarrassed at having gotten caught, and uncertain of what to do once he’d spotted Kakyoin, but that didn’t mean he’d been lying about being a graduate student. The name he’d dropped had checked out as well; Kakyoin had looked it up online.
Just in case.
He wondered what the tank was for - perhaps he had to keep track of something at his home? Fish, perhaps? Shrimp? Sea slugs? Kakyoin wasn’t an expert, but it had to be a small animal; the tank wasn’t big enough for more than one or two creatures, surely.
Then again, the man had been very large. Maybe the tank just looked small in comparison.
A thought suddenly sprang to Kakyoin’s mind, a terrible, wicked thought that made his breath catch in his throat.
No, he thought. Not a chance. What a completely awful idea.
He was not going to ask a perfect stranger (albeit a very handsome one) to be the model for the series of nudes he needed to finish by the end of February. At best, the man would shoot him a weird look and tell him to get lost. At worst…
Well, Kakyoin liked the shape of his nose the way it was, thank you very much.
But then again - the worst the guy could say was no.
And then he’d be right back where he started, no harm done.
Deep in thought, he watched the man for several long minutes, waiting until he’d reached the parking lot all the way on the other side of the road before he turned around and made for the art building’s exit himself. His mind still wasn’t made up, pro’s and con’s battling back and forth in his head, no one side having a significant advantage over the other.
He needed someone to break the tie - an outside opinion, someone objective, someone clear-headed and logical.
Jean Pierre Polnareff was, admittedly, none of those things.
But he was what Kakyoin had. And so he hurried off to the campus sushi restaurant, a strange current of excitement coursing through his veins.