Hi, I made a short film about Jotakak. I hope you like it.
The sky was gray, but it wasnât raining.
They walked side by side, shoulder to shoulder, through a shopping district Kakyoin had suggested. He said he just wanted to window shop, but Jotaro knew that usually ended with bags in hand. Though never Kakyoinâs hands.
âAre you sure you donât want to go in?â Jotaro asked when he noticed Kakyoin pausing in front of a small art supply store. âYouâre not dragging me around this time.â
Kakyoin chuckled softly. He looked calm, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.
âIâm not buying anything. I just want to look around a bit.â
The place smelled like new paper, ink, and wood. There were shelves of hand-bound sketchbooks, vintage nibs, Japanese marker sets Jotaro had never seen, and watercolor kits with names he couldnât even pronounce. Kakyoin wandered the aisles slowly, as if walking through a museum.
Then he stopped in front of a watercolor set.
Not just any set. It was a special edition, limited run, with a range of colors that shimmered even under the storeâs soft lighting.
Jotaro glanced at him: Kakyoinâs eyes were fixed on the box like the rest of the world had gone quiet for a moment.
âYou like it?â Jotaro asked, even though he already knew.
Kakyoin blinked, breaking the spell, and shook his head with a soft smile.
âItâs beautiful, but itâs expensive. I donât need it.â
They kept walking through the store, and Kakyoin never looked back.
It was already dark when they arrived at Kakyoinâs place.
The afternoon had been peacefulâfull of dumb jokes, effortless conversation, and comfortable silences. Kakyoin took out his keys, mumbling something about making tea, but before he could open the door, Jotaro cleared his throat.
Jotaro held up a small paper bagâplain, with no logo.
Kakyoin frowned slightly, curious.
Kakyoin took it with a slightly trembling hand, more from surprise than cold. When he opened it and saw the watercolor set inside, his eyes widened completely.
He didnât say it loudly. It came out as a whisper, like saying it any louder might break the moment.
âYou said you didnât need it,â Jotaro said, rubbing the back of his neck, âbut that doesnât mean you donât deserve it.â
Kakyoin looked down, pressing his lips together.
It looked like he might cryâbut he didnât.
He just took a deep breath and carefully tucked the box away, like it was something sacred.
Then, without thinking too much, he stepped closer.
Jotaro froze slightly as Kakyoin leaned up on his toesâjust a little shakyâand kissed him on the cheek.
It wasnât long or loud.
It was brief. Hesitant. Warm.
When he stepped back, his eyes stayed locked on Jotaroâs, like he was waiting for something. Like he was scared it might have been too much.
But Jotaro didnât move away.
He simply raised a hand and gently placed it at the back of Kakyoinâs neck, fingers brushing his hair.
âThank you,â Kakyoin whispered, barely audible.
Jotaro lowered his head slightly and replied, in a calm, low voice:
âYou donât have to thank me for taking care of you.â
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janainaart
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
