kotowarv:
With a swift movement, Rohan let go of Jotaro’s hands.
“ terrible, you say? ” he was being mocked, that much was certain. The thought of closing jotaro’s mouth with a sharp remark crossed his mind, but he desisted, knowing that this was exactly what Jotaro wanted. Instead, the lips that had parted slightly to speak soon pursed tightly, his distaste becoming almost palpable.
Mild though it seemed, the southern breeze had tangled his hair into a mess. Rohan stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his sweatshirt, in attempt to keep himself warm. Save for the places that Jotaro had touched, his body felt uncomfortably cold. Wordlessly, Rohan turned on his heels to walk towards the stairs that would take them back to Morioh streets.
The distance was not particularly wide, it could be covered in a few steps. Even so, his feet felt strangely weak and heavy, as though the sand and waters had feasted on his own strength in these past minutes. He could hear Jotaro approaching from behind, the dry sound of sand and empty seashells shattering the closer he came. he could feel, too, the intense gaze on the back of his head. In that moment, the warmth that stayed imprinted by Jotaro’s touch acquired a more solid presence, as magnets that react to nearby polar waves. His fingers twitched as the feeling, like a plague, spread to his cheeks and the tip of his ears. Only now had his body managed to react, causing him to yearn for a little more contact.
The empty space on his side suddenly began to bother him more than it should.
“ you sure like to take your time, don’t you? ” Rohan called over his shoulder. The sound was swallowed by the waves’ roaring, and he could only hope that Jotaro’s ear was sharp enough hear in this conditions. He waited by the first step of the stairs, notiching the moonlit ocean that spread beautifully at Jotaro’s back. A silver sea, wild and mysterious, sang its goodbyes to the two figures that moved across the sand, looking for each other. He wondered, in that fleeting moment, what might his role be in this story: would he be the musician, or would he be the one that left, belonging nowhere?
Absurd. There was no use asking such questions. It didn’t matter, as long as he could be the one to decide how this story unfolded. It was in him whether to make it a tragedy or not, and he so happened to not be fond of them, “ say… are you staying for the night, or will you return to your hotel? ”
Jotaro made a halfhearted effort to check his watch. The moonlight was just bright enough to illuminate the face in a cold, white glow, shedding light on the gentle passing of time that always seemed far too swift when they were together.
11:00.
Well, it was late enough for an excuse.
He wondered how much of his time in Morioh had been wasted away in Rohan’s home. Day after day after day was spent ticking away at the foot of Rohan’s bed, in his kitchen, at his desk. The familiarity engulfed him in a strange sense of belonging that he couldn’t quite explain away with simple convenience – though, perhaps it had been, at first. It had eliminated the back and forth, to and fro of their relationship, leaving them with an astonishing amount of time to grow… closer, he supposed. Would things have been different, had he left all their meetings to chance?
He looked at Rohan’s smaller frame, and marveled at how soft it looked beneath the stars. Gentle speckles of light reflected off his skin, creating an ethereal glow that invoked a gut-wrenching pang of longing deep within his chest. He could understand the pain that would come from being denied Rohan’s touch. The current misery of his empty hands, now that they’d been abandoned. He clenched and unclenched his fist, letting the lingering memory of his touch seep deep into his bones. It was a feeling he never wanted to miss.
“It’s late, you know. Let me see you back to your place.”
Jotaro said the words with a trace of anticipation. He felt strange for it, sometimes, being unable to contain the need in his own voice wherever Rohan was concerned. The mangaka had a tendency to break down his barriers, whether he intended to or not. It left Jotaro weak. Exposed. Vulnerable.
“I don’t feel like this night is over, yet. Do you?”
