Match Made in 'Why Not?' Ft. Best Friend!Jo
A/n: Don't ask. Idk how the title came about 😭 I wrote that cause I'm simply running out of good ideas.
Genre: Matchmaker au, bestfriends-to-lovers, fluff, romance
Pairings: bestfriend!Jo x matchmaker!Eri (fem oc)
“Jo!” Mrs. Aoyama greeted as she opened the door, stepping aside to let him in. “She’s still asleep, as usual.”
Jo smiled, already kicking off his shoes like it was second nature. “Of course she is.”
He didn’t need an invitation. He never did. Their moms had been best friends since college, and Jo and Eri had practically been raised in each other’s houses. He knew where the mugs were, what time the hot water took to boil, and which floorboard in the hallway creaked. At this point, her house felt as much his as his own.
“She was up late with that group project,” her mom added, waving him down the hall. “Go wake her up. And don’t be too soft—she’ll just go right back to sleep.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jo said with a grin, heading down the familiar hallway.
Eri’s bedroom door was cracked open. He pushed it gently and peeked in.
There she was—dead asleep, sprawled diagonally across the bed with her hair in a wild mess and her arm hanging off the side. A quiet snore escaped her lips.
He laughed softly to himself. “Unbelievable.”
Without hesitation, he walked over and jumped onto the bed beside her, making the mattress bounce.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said, nudging her shoulder. “We have class.”
Eri groaned, curling into herself. “I’m tired. Go without me.”
Jo sat up and yanked the blanket off her in one motion. “Nope. You promised me pudding today. Not risking you ghosting me.”
She cracked one eye open, glaring at him halfheartedly. “You’re seriously waking me up for pudding?”
“You said you’d buy it. That makes it legally binding.”
“And yet,” he grinned, “you still love me.”
She mumbled something into the pillow.
He nudged her again, gentler this time. “Come on. Campus needs its sweetheart. Let’s go look good in lecture together.”
Jo chuckled as she finally shifted, holding out her hand toward him without even lifting her head.
“Help me up,” she muttered, eyes still half-closed.
He rolled his eyes but took her hand anyway, tugging her upright. “Drama queen,” he teased.
“Loyal servant,” she shot back, smirking sleepily.
She pushed him lightly in the chest. “Now get out so I can change and wash up.”
Jo stood, hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright. Try not to fall asleep standing in the shower.”
He closed the door behind him and waited in the living room, already scrolling through his phone like this was the most routine part of his day—which, honestly, it kind of was.
Twenty minutes later, Eri emerged—fresh-faced, hair brushed, uniform neat but still giving off that effortlessly sweet vibe she was known for. Jo stood and tossed her something from his jacket pocket.
She caught it instinctively. “Candy?”
“You like those honey ones,” he said casually. “Also,” he added, handing her a canned drink from his other pocket, “thought you might skip breakfast again.”
Eri blinked, then smiled wide. “Thanks.”
He shrugged like it was nothing. “You’d do it for me.”
They walked side by side onto campus, the early sun stretching long shadows behind them. People waved at them as they passed—some calling out to Jo, others to Eri, a few to both. It was like watching the sun and moon stroll in together: perfectly balanced, perfectly unaware of how much they lit up the place.
At the main building, they paused.
“Different classes this morning,” Jo said, stepping back.
“Only if you bring pudding.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so hung up on that.”
“You made a promise,” he grinned. “I’m a man of principle.”
Eri laughed, waving as she turned to go. “See you later, you ridiculous man of principle.”
Jo watched her go, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
He really had no idea when she became his favorite part of every day.
Jo left first, tossing a lazy wave over his shoulder as he headed off toward his building. Eri watched him go for a second longer than necessary before turning toward her own path.
But she barely took two steps before a voice chimed in beside her.
“Excuse me—are you an art major?”
Eri turned and found a girl standing there, dressed in the same uniform but with a perfectly ironed collar and a carefully calculated smile.
“Yup, I am,” Eri replied warmly.
The girl smiled wider. “Great! I thought I recognized your face. I’m Kimiko. I’m new—just transferred here.”
“Oh! Welcome.” Eri’s smile brightened. “I’m Eri. I was just heading to class, we can go together if you want?”
Kimiko’s eyes lit up. “I’d love that.”
They started walking down the path that curved toward the art building, the morning light cutting through the trees overhead.
“So,” Kimiko said casually, “the guy you were talking to just now—who is he? Your boyfriend?”
Eri blinked, then laughed. “No, no. That’s Jo. He’s my best friend.”
“Ah,” Kimiko said, nodding slowly. “Makes sense. He’s cute.”
Eri smiled at that, brushing some hair behind her ear. “Yeah, he gets that a lot.”
Kimiko glanced sideways at her. “I can see why.”
By the time their first class ended, Eri had already learned a handful of things about Kimiko: she was from another city, liked painting over sketching, preferred green tea to coffee, and had a fondness for romantic movies. She was easy to talk to, polite, and had that kind of quiet, sweet energy that mirrored Eri’s own.
They sat next to each other again in the second class, chatting between notes and laughing softly over the professor's dry jokes. By the time the lunch bell rang, Kimiko was already linking their arms like they'd known each other for longer than just a morning.
“Want to eat together?” Kimiko asked hopefully.
Eri smiled. “Sure. I usually eat with Jo and our friends though—they might already be waiting at the cafeteria.”
“Even better,” Kimiko said, eyes glinting with something Eri didn’t quite catch. “I’d love to meet more people.”
Meanwhile, in another building on campus…
Jo slung his bag over one shoulder, grinning as he waved goodbye to a few classmates. “Later, guys.”
He was already checking his phone as he headed toward the cafeteria. No texts from Eri, but that wasn’t unusual. She probably got caught up chatting or sketching again. Still, he picked up his pace a little. Lunch with her was the best part of his day.
“Jo!” a voice called behind him.
He turned to see Taki jogging over, Harua trailing right behind with his usual calm expression.
“Hey,” Jo greeted, bumping fists with Taki.
“Heading to the cafeteria?” Harua asked.
“Yeah,” Taki said, then casually added, “I saw Eri with another girl earlier.”
Jo raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Must be a new friend.”
“She was kinda clingy,” Taki added, making a vague gesture. “New girl. Brown hair, pretty smile.”
Harua gave Jo a side glance. “That your type?”
Jo shrugged. “I don’t really have one.”
But his mind wandered anyway—Eri had made a new friend? That was good. He smiled faintly to himself.
The cafeteria was already buzzing when Jo and the guys stepped in, the smell of curry rice and fried chicken hanging in the air. As they wove through the crowd, Jo’s gaze swept toward their usual corner—and paused.
Eri, waving brightly with her usual lunch tray in front of her, but not alone.
Next to her sat the girl Taki had mentioned—Kimiko. Pretty, polished, and smiling just a little too perfectly.
“Huh?” Jo muttered under his breath, slowing his steps.
Taki and Harua noticed it too.
“She’s already sitting with her,” Harua noted.
Jo frowned slightly. Lunch was… their thing. Their circle was small—tight-knit. Familiar. Eri, him, Taki, Harua, and sometimes Maki when he wasn’t running across campus for lab work. And now, suddenly, there was a new face in their spot.
Eri waved again as they approached. “You’re here!”
Taki and Harua slid into their usual spots across from her. Jo took the seat next to Eri, slower than usual.
“I was waiting for you,” she said with a smile, grabbing her wallet. “I’ll go get your pudding now.”
Before she got up, she gestured to the girl beside her. “This is Kimiko. She’s new, we’re in the same classes. Be nice, okay?”
And with that, she was off toward the vending machines, leaving the three boys alone with Kimiko.
Kimiko turned to them with a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you guys. You’re Jo, right?” Her eyes lingered on him just a bit longer than what felt casual. “Eri mentioned you earlier.”
Jo gave her a small nod. “Yeah. Good to meet you.”
Taki leaned his chin into his hand, watching her. “I’m Taki. That’s Harua.”
“Nice to meet you too,” she said, but again, her gaze drifted quickly back to Jo.
Taki’s brows furrowed slightly. Her tone was sweet, but there was something in the way she said Jo’s name. Too light, too focused—like she was playing a part, trying to make a good impression… on one person specifically.
Harua stayed silent, just watching with that unreadable calm of his.
Jo, on the other hand, didn’t say much either. He wasn’t exactly rude, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
He was happy Eri had made a friend. He really was.
He just… didn’t want everything to change.
Turns out, Jo was completely wrong.
Because in the following weeks, Kimiko didn’t just hover around Eri—she infiltrated.
She was at their lunch table almost every day now, always perched a little too close, always laughing a little too loudly at Jo’s dry jokes, and always offering to help plan every group meet-up like she'd been part of the crew for years.
"Should we do karaoke this weekend? Or a beach trip! Ooh, maybe something overnight?" she chirped one lunch, already pulling up a group chat she had somehow gotten herself added into.
Jo sipped his drink and said nothing, gaze fixed on the way Kimiko subtly cut off Eri when she was about to suggest something quieter. Eri just smiled, as always, giving way with that sweet, selfless grace that made Jo’s jaw tighten.
Kimiko was like a pebble in his shoe—small enough to seem harmless, but always there.
And the others felt it too.
It was during a rare boys-only weekend at Taki’s place—pizza boxes stacked high and a video game paused on screen—when the truth finally cracked through the surface.
Harua had been silent for a while before speaking.
“I don’t like her,” he said simply, tossing a controller aside.
Taki leaned back on the couch, folding his arms. “Finally. I thought it was just me.”
“She always talks like she’s in charge,” Harua added. “And she’s always trying to isolate Eri. You noticed that?”
Taki groaned. “And she acts fake as hell around you, Jo. It’s like she only acknowledges the rest of us when you’re not paying attention.”
Jo stayed quiet, chewing the inside of his cheek.
It wasn’t just them either.
Even Maki—who was rarely around due to his demanding major —had muttered the same thing when he dropped by during a group hangout last week.
“Something’s off about that girl,” he’d said under his breath while grabbing a soda from the fridge. “She’s all smiles but it feels… staged. I don’t like it.”
And now here they were, all four of them in silent agreement.
Jo didn’t say it out loud, but a part of him hated how easy it had been for Kimiko to slip into their circle. How she seemed to understand exactly how to move around Eri—never obviously rude, but just subtle enough to chip away at their rhythm.
He missed how it used to be.
Before things got… complicated.
The morning sun filtered through the trees as Eri and Kimiko strolled down the path toward the art building. Their bags hung loosely on their shoulders, the air filled with casual conversation about class deadlines and which vending machine had the best sandwiches.
Then, just as they passed the fountain, Kimiko slowed her steps and glanced at Eri, her voice dropping slightly.
“Hey… can I tell you something?”
Eri turned her head. “Sure.”
Kimiko gave a shy little smile, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I think Jo might like me.”
Her mind stumbled. That thought had never—ever—crossed her mind. Jo? Liking Kimiko?
It didn’t fit. It didn’t feel right.
But before she could even form a response, Kimiko pressed on.
“I mean, the way he looks at me sometimes? And how he listens when I talk, even if he doesn’t say much. I just… I feel it, you know?”
Eri opened her mouth to speak, but Kimiko kept going, her voice turning almost giddy.
“And I was thinking… you’re his best friend. He listens to you. Maybe you could help me out? Just a little. Drop a hint? Bring me up in conversation?”
Eri hesitated, smile wavering for the first time.
She didn’t know what to say.
Because her first thought—instinctively—was no, he didn’t like Kimiko. Not like that. Not even close. Jo had always been polite, but distant. Guarded. Especially around people he didn’t click with.
But then again… what did she know?
Maybe she was just biased. Maybe she didn’t want to see it.
Kimiko’s eyes sparkled with expectation. “Please, Eri? You’d know if he likes someone, right?”
Eri hesitated—then nodded.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll… I’ll try.”
Because Jo was her person. Her ride-or-die. If he really did like Kimiko—if there was even the slightest chance—then who was she to stand in the way of his happiness?
Even if the idea left a weird feeling in her chest.
Even if Kimiko’s eagerness felt just a little too sharp, a little too rushed.
She smiled anyway, pushing the discomfort down.
The sun was beginning to dip as Jo and Eri walked side by side down the familiar path toward the parking lot. The air smelled faintly of cut grass, and their shadows stretched long behind them. Eri’s steps were light, like she was excited about something, while Jo just carried both their bags like he always did when she was too tired to argue.
“You know,” Eri started, swinging her arms a little. “I was thinking about something today.”
Jo glanced at her, brow lifting slightly. “Yeah?”
“Kimiko,” she said brightly.
Immediately, Jo’s shoulders tensed—but he said nothing.
“She’s really pretty,” Eri went on, smiling. “Smart, confident, stylish… Honestly, she’s perfect for you.”
She nodded, looking completely sincere. “Like, I don’t know why I didn’t think about it before. You two would look great together. And she really seems into you.”
Because what could he say? His chest felt tight and his jaw ticked slightly, but he kept his expression as neutral as ever.
“Eri…” he started, but she kept going, so hopeful it made his stomach twist.
“And I think… maybe you should go on a date with her?”
Eri took a few steps before realizing and turned to face him.
“What?” she asked, confused.
He scratched the back of his neck, eyes cast slightly downward. “You think I should… date Kimiko?”
Eri looked at him with a bright, encouraging smile. “Yeah! I mean, she’s into you, and you’re both great people. It’s worth a shot, right?”
For a second, Jo said nothing.
Then he forced a tiny, crooked smile—one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“…Right,” he said quietly. “If you think so.”
Because if she was this sure—if Eri thought he and Kimiko would work—then who was he to argue?
Even if his heart was screaming no.
Even if the idea of going on a date with Kimiko made him feel nothing but… off.
Even if every time he pictured “the perfect girl,” it wasn’t Kimiko at all.
It was the one currently smiling at him like she didn’t even know she already had his whole heart.
Jo hated everything about today.
From the moment he stepped into the cafeteria, Kimiko had latched onto his arm like a vine. Her fingers were looped around his wrist like she owned it, and her laugh was loud—too loud—as she leaned into him with every step.
She’d said something about his hair looking "hot like that" and then ranted for a good ten minutes about how they should totally go to the movies sometime—"just us"—while Jo internally begged the universe for mercy.
The fact that Eri, Taki, and Harua had all mysteriously decided to leave them alone today.
He sat across from Kimiko now, trying to focus on his food, nodding at her nonstop chatter about how they’d make such a good couple and how people already assumed they were dating. Her knee kept brushing his under the table.
He wanted to be anywhere but here.
Meanwhile, on the bleachers by the field, Eri sat with her lunch half-eaten beside her as she watched from afar.
Taki popped the cap off his drink and raised an eyebrow. “Why are you playing matchmaker for them?”
Eri exhaled, long and tired. “Maybe Jo wants it?”
Taki snorted. “Yeah. Jo totally looks like he’s loving his life right now.”
Harua let out a low sigh, poking at his bento with a chopstick. “You didn’t answer the real question though.”
Eri blinked. “Which one?”
Taki turned to her fully. “Why are you letting Kimiko boss you around like that?”
Harua nodded. “She’s all over Jo and she talks to you like you’re her assistant.”
Eri waved them off, forcing a small laugh. “You guys are overanalyzing. She’s just… really confident. And I mean, she did say she liked Jo, and I thought maybe he could—”
“Eri,” Taki cut in flatly. “He doesn’t like her.”
Harua nodded again, quietly but firmly. “And she doesn’t treat you like a friend. She treats you like a tool.”
Eri’s shoulders stiffened at that, the words settling heavy in her chest.
She looked back toward the cafeteria windows, where she could barely make out Jo’s silhouette. He was leaning slightly away from Kimiko, face turned to the side like he was anywhere but there.
And for the first time since this all started, doubt crept in.
After classes, the sky was turning a dusty orange as Eri and Jo walked together, her steps slower than usual. There was a quiet tension hanging between them, the kind that came not from anger but uncertainty.
“Hey,” she said, finally breaking the silence.
“I wanted to ask you something.” She looked ahead, biting her lip. “Do you really… like Kimiko? Or are you just going along with it because I said something?”
Jo blinked, caught off guard. His heart gave a small thump at the way her voice held genuine concern.
“I just…” she trailed off. “I feel like I’m forcing you or something. And that’s not fair.”
Jo, who would walk through fire if she asked, who could never bring himself to make her feel like she’d done anything wrong—just smiled gently and shook his head.
“No,” he said, voice soft. “You’re not forcing me.”
Eri studied him. She could tell something was off. “You sure? Taki and Harua both said you totally don’t like her.”
Jo scratched the back of his neck, chuckling awkwardly. “They’re just overanalyzing like always.”
That made her smile. “Good. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”
Jo didn’t say anything to that. He couldn’t. But something about the way her smile calmed him down almost made him believe it was all fine.
Later that night, curled up at home, Eri was on the phone with Taki and Harua, relaying what Jo had said.
“He said he does like Kimiko,” she told them.
Taki was silent for a moment before scoffing. “He’s totally lying.”
Harua’s voice came next, calm but direct. “Eri, Jo’s always been soft-spoken. You know he’d do anything for you. That’s why he’s saying it.”
Eri opened her mouth to respond, but her phone buzzed with another call.
“It’s Kimiko,” she muttered. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”
Switching lines, she greeted, “Hey, Kimiko.”
“Eriii!” Kimiko chirped, loud and sugary. “Omg, Jo is, like, so obsessed with me. He totally didn’t even stop me from holding his arm today. You saw, right?”
“So!” Kimiko continued in a rush. “You have to set up a date for us. Tomorrow. I want something cute and spontaneous!”
Eri hesitated. “But… we have class tomorrow and he doesn't like missing class.”
Kimiko pouted through the phone. “But Eri… You know how important this is to me. Don’t you want me to be happy? You’re the only one who really understands.”
Eri felt her resolve waver, Kimiko’s tone slipping between whiny and guilt-trippy so smoothly she didn’t even register it.
“…Okay,” she said quietly. “I’ll set something up.”
“Yay! I knew I could count on you! You're seriously the best.”
Back on the phone with Taki and Harua, Eri sighed and explained what happened.
“You agreed?” Taki said flatly. “We have class tomorrow.”
“She really wanted to,” Eri mumbled, twirling the phone cord. “And maybe Jo will like it too.”
“You’re doing a lot of ‘maybe’s for a guy who clearly doesn’t want this,” Taki muttered.
“Seriously,” Harua added. “You’re smart, Eri. Don’t let her wrap you around her finger just because she talks fast and acts sweet. She’s not your friend.”
Eri stared at the ceiling, suddenly unsure all over again.
“…But I already told her I’d do it.”
Eri sat cross-legged on her bed, phone pressed to her ear, nervously twirling a strand of her hair.
“I, um… talked to Kimiko,” she said gently.
“Yeah?” Jo’s voice came through, a little wary.
“She wants to go out with you tomorrow. Like… a real date.”
Jo was quiet. Horribly quiet. On his side of the line, his heart sank to his stomach.
“Jo,” she said quickly, “you don’t have to. I told her you have class. I told her you probably wouldn’t want to. I said—”
“I’ll go,” he interrupted, and his tone was light, almost casual.
But his hands were clenched into fists in his lap.
“You… sure?” she asked, her voice unsure. “I mean, I know this is sudden, and you don’t even know her that well, and—”
“I’m sure,” he said, even though he wasn’t. Not at all. But on the other end of the line, he could already picture her sad eyes and that soft guilt-ridden smile she always wore when she thought she’d done something wrong.
That image alone was enough to crush his reluctance.
“If you say it’ll be good for me, then I’ll go,” he added.
Eri’s heart softened. “...Okay.”
The next morning felt off.
Her mom didn’t knock on her door and call out, “Jo’s here!” like she usually did.
No Jo slipping into her room without ceremony, no warm “Hey, sleepyhead, we have class” from the edge of her bed.
The silence echoed louder than any alarm clock.
She sat up slowly, blinking at the empty space beside her. It was strange—unfamiliar, almost cold. Her routine, the one she’d known since forever, was broken. And it felt heavier than she thought it would.
It’s fine, she told herself as she got ready. His happiness comes first. If this date makes him happy, then I should be happy too.
But the smile she forced on her face felt weak, like it could crack at any moment.
Walking to college alone was… weirder than she expected.
Every block without Jo beside her felt twice as long. Every corner turned felt like something was missing.
And when she reached campus and entered the building, the absence of his voice, his candy from his jacket, his usual “don’t fall asleep in class” reminder—it all left a hollow ache in her chest.
He’d never missed class before.
We’ve never missed class. Not together, she thought, heart sinking.
As the day dragged on, her mind kept drifting back to everything—the way Jo looked quietly uncomfortable every time Kimiko clung to his arm, how he always had a delayed pause when Kimiko spoke to him directly, and how his smiles never quite reached his eyes anymore.
The way she had barged into their lives, full of sparkle and flattery and high-pitched enthusiasm, like she’d always belonged.
The way she’d latched onto Jo the moment she saw him.
The way she’d made Eri her errand girl in a matter of days—asking her to do things, assuming she would, and smiling sweetly even as she talked over her.
Eri stopped mid-step in the corridor.
She remembered how she hadn’t even been the one to offer to help with Jo. Kimiko had asked—no, pushed—for her to do it. And Eri, ever the sweetheart, ever the people-pleaser, had just… gone with it.
Now Jo was missing class. Their routine was broken. And for what?
For a girl who barely knew them, who acted like she owned their friendship from the start.
For the first time, Eri felt a stab of guilt—not over disappointing Kimiko, but over letting it go this far.
Over putting Jo through something he didn’t want.
Over not listening to the part of herself that had known something felt off from the beginning.
Now it might’ve been too late.
Jo sat at a corner booth in the café, stirring his drink absently. The ticking clock on the wall felt louder than usual, every passing second dragging the moment closer to the conversation he knew he needed to have.
Just get through it, then tell her. Be honest. Clear. Kind, but firm.
He could hear Eri’s voice in his head—“If you don’t like someone, it’s better to be honest than to lead them on.”
That thought alone made his chest ache. If I was going to skip class for anyone, he thought, it should’ve been Eri. I would’ve actually liked that.
He pictured it: Eri in a cozy cardigan, her hair softly tied up with a little ribbon like she always wore, eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled at the pastries.
That’s a date I’d actually show up early for.
Just then, the bell above the door chimed.
Jo looked up—and any trace of a polite smile instantly vanished from his face.
Kimiko stood at the entrance, waving a little too enthusiastically before making her way over. Her outfit was… suspiciously familiar. A cream-colored blouse with a lace collar, a flared skirt with soft pleats, dainty earrings. Even her hair was done up in a loose ribbon.
Like she had Googled “sweet girl aesthetic” and plastered it on.
Except, on her, it looked try-hard. The lace too stiff, the bow too shiny. It didn’t feel natural. It didn’t feel her.
And worst of all, it was obvious who she was trying to emulate.
She sat down with a dramatic sigh. “I was so nervous picking this outfit. But I think it turned out cute, right?”
He gave a noncommittal hum and sipped his drink.
As she babbled about how she’d picked a café that matched her “soft aesthetic” and how she loved vintage things “just like Eri,” Jo tuned out.
Because it wasn’t the same.
Eri’s softness wasn’t a costume. She wasn’t trying to look sweet—she was sweet. She didn’t talk about matching the energy of a café, she just quietly brought warmth into every room she entered.
Kimiko felt like she was playing a role.
Jo stared down at the table, a small frown forming.
He didn’t want this at all.
His thoughts drifted again—to Eri sleeping, half-buried in her blanket. Eri handing him candy from her bag with a proud grin. Eri waving at him across campus like he was the most important person in her world.
She was his favorite. He’d just never said it out loud.
Jo was just about to speak, carefully planning how to reject Kimiko when she started laughing.
"Honestly," she said with a wave of her hand, “don’t take this the wrong way, but how did Eri even get into this college? I mean, her art is like... kindergarten level. Maybe they just needed someone sweet and basic to fill in a quota or something.”
His hand, resting on the table, curled into a fist.
Kimiko giggled like she hadn’t just committed social suicide. “Oh, don’t look so offended! I’m just joking—c’mon, you know I like Eri! I mean, sure, I’m better at art and obviously more polished, but I’m saying that with love.”
She smiled, proud of her backhanded ‘compliment.’
Jo stared at her for a moment.
Did she seriously not realize who she was talking to?
He leaned forward slightly, voice cold. “Are you seriously backbiting about Eri... to me?”
Kimiko blinked. “What? I—”
“Her best friend since before we could even speak. You’re sitting here bad-mouthing the person I’ve literally grown up with. The girl I’ve known and protected since we were in diapers. And you’re mocking her to me?”
The café went quiet. A few heads turned. Kimiko shifted uncomfortably in her seat, eyes darting.
“Jo, people are looking—”
“Let them,” he snapped. “Maybe they should see what kind of person you really are.”
She gasped slightly, caught off-guard, but he wasn’t done.
“Eri’s not a joke. You are. And since we’re being honest now,” he said, voice rising, “let’s talk about how you walked in here today dressed like you’re cosplaying as her. That blouse, the ribbon in your hair, the whole vintage 'sweet girl' act—it's not you. It’s her. But she doesn’t have to try. Eri’s always dressed like that, because it’s who she is. Not because she’s trying to impress anyone.”
Jo stood now, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You keep saying you’re prettier than her. Funny—Eri walks around with barely any makeup and still looks better than anyone else I know. You? You’re caked in it and still can't come close.”
Kimiko let out a weak laugh. “You’re being dramatic.”
He ignored it. “And don’t even get me started on art. You think you're better than her? Your art looks like you're trying to copy every trending style on the internet and failing. You wouldn’t know originality if it slapped you across the face. Eri’s work has soul. It’s hers. It’s real. And if anyone should be asking how they got into this school, it’s you. Because your work? It’s like a sixth grader who discovered watercolor last week.”
Kimiko sat there, stunned and humiliated.
Jo grabbed his bag. “I’m done. I don’t ever want to see you again. And if I do—if you so much as breathe near Eri again—I’ll make sure you regret it.”
With that, he turned and walked out of the café without another glance back, the door swinging shut behind him.
And for the first time since Kimiko showed up in their lives, Jo felt like he could finally breathe again.
Jo ran like he was being chased by a swarm of bees—emotionally deranged bees that smelled like disappointment and wore tacky knock-off Eri outfits.
He burst into the art block like an unhinged wind, ignoring the janitor’s startled "Whoa!" and zigzagged through the corridor like it was a mission. His heart only settled when he saw the warm yellow glow of the studio light filtering through the open door.
There. Clay. Apron. Calm. Eri.
“Oh thank God,” he exhaled dramatically, stepping in like a man crawling out of a war zone.
She turned with a blink, hands covered in clay, expression confused. “Jo? What are you doing here?”
“Emergency,” he declared, walking in like he owned the studio. “There was a threat to my peace, my dignity, and also fashion as a concept.”
She raised a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”
“You don’t have class?” he asked, totally ignoring the question.
“Not till later,” she said, sitting back from the clay. “So I’m just winging it here. Why are you panting like you’ve been chased?”
“Okay, so you’re winging it. Meanwhile, I was experiencing the slow death of my soul via Kimiko. I deserve compensation. And maybe cake.”
He flopped onto the stool beside her and began his tirade.
Eri just blinked, clearly bracing herself.
“First off, she kept calling me ‘Jojo.’” He shuddered like the name physically hurt him. “Like some kind of fluffy pocket-sized anime mascot. I’m not a plushie, Eri. I’m a man with dignity. I deserve respect.”
“Don’t,” he warned. “Don’t make me fling this clay.”
“And she wouldn’t stop touching me. Like full-on glue-mode. Arm-clutching, shoulder-bumping, breathing-in-my-airspace level of physical harassment. I nearly evaporated.”
He put a hand over his chest like a dramatic heroine. “And she talked. Like, all date long. About smoothies. And outfits. And how we’re meant to be and how we should ‘double-date with you and someone hot’ and I was like??? First of all, rude. Second of all, if I double-date it better be with you and snacks.”
Eri opened her mouth but he kept going.
“And then—the final straw—she started bashing you. Said your art wasn’t even that good and wondered out loud how you even got into this college. TO. ME.”
Jo stood up, pacing in front of her like he was giving a monologue on stage. “I was like, are you seriously badmouthing Eri, the person I’ve known since I was a drooling goblin in preschool? Eri, who I’ve shared crayons, ice cream, and literal hospital socks with? You’re trash-talking her to me?? You must have glue in your brain.”
He waved a hand dramatically. “She was like, ‘I’m just joking.’ Oh yeah? Well I’m just never speaking to you again. Because Eri is not a joke. You are. You’re the cosplay version of her, and not even good cosplay. You look like if someone tried to draw Eri from memory and failed.”
Eri laughed out loud at that one.
“And don’t even get me started on her makeup—look, no shame in some contour, but I swear she had enough on to frost a wedding cake. Meanwhile, you? You walk out the door with nothing but some lip balm and manage to look like a Studio Ghibli protagonist.”
He gave her a meaningful look. “And her art? Pinterest-core. Carbon copy nonsense. Yours is real. Yours has soul. She couldn’t copy you even if she used tracing paper and divine intervention.”
Eri stared at him, speechless.
He suddenly stopped, hands dropping to his sides, completely serious.
She blinked. “That was the weirdest love confession I’ve ever heard.”
He nodded solemnly. “And yet, somehow, still very me.”
She considered for a moment, the tiniest smirk forming. “Sure. Why not?”
Jo blinked. “Wait, actually?”
“Yeah. Just don’t ever let her call you Jojo again.”
He beamed, collapsing into the stool beside her again like a puppy granted salvation. “Deal, obviously. Jojo is dead even though he was never real. This is Jo 2.0. Officially yours.”
She giggled as he leaned his head against her shoulder, sighing in peace. Everything felt right again.
Almost like it had always been headed here from the start.
The day had wound down in that lazy, golden way only late afternoons could manage. After cleaning up at the studio, Jo and Eri met up with Taki and Harua by the campus gates, the sun dipping low behind them.
“Later, losers,” Taki said with a cheeky grin, slapping Jo’s back.
“Yeah, don’t get into trouble, lovebirds,” Harua added with a smirk, hands in his pockets.
Jo rolled his eyes, but didn’t deny anything—he just offered a smug little grin that made both boys groan.
“Ugh. He’s smug now,” Taki muttered. “We should’ve stopped this.”
“Too late,” Harua said as the two walked off, Taki making gagging noises behind them.
Eri and Jo lingered, their steps slower, more relaxed. The air was crisp, cool enough that she folded her arms close to her body. Jo immediately noticed.
“Oi,” he said, slipping off his jacket and gently wrapping it around her shoulders before she could protest.
She blinked, touched. “You’ll be cold.”
“I’m already warm from being your boyfriend,” he said, voice annoyingly smug.
“Correct,” he agreed proudly, before slinging his arm around her shoulder in one smooth move, pulling her closer as they walked.
“So,” he said, leaning down a bit so his words hit her ear, teasing and light, “what should we do, girlfriend?”
Eri smiled, her cheeks a little pink—not from the cold. “Hmm… how about ice cream and a movie at my place, boyfriend?”
He grinned like a kid given free reign in a candy store. “You had me at ‘ice cream.’”
They both chuckled, falling into that easy rhythm that only came from years of knowing each other—of growing together, laughing, crying, and finally realizing what had been there all along.
Wrapped in Jo’s jacket and under his arm, Eri felt like everything had finally clicked back into place.
And as they walked home together, with the last of the sun painting the sky in sleepy oranges and pinks, Jo smiled to himself, thinking:
True story, I actually had a friend like Kimiko. Alot of ger behaviour was inspired by that one bitch. She always thought every boy had a crush on her 😭🤣🤣
Well, I hope y'all liked it 🥹
Likes and rebloggs are appreciated 🩷 ✨️
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