Chapter Text
“you play the bass?” polnareff’s voice upon this information being revealed somehow grew higher pitched with each word, more surprised. “you play the bass, and you didn’t think to mention it until now?”
“i used to play the bass.” jotaro corrects him, shrugging his shoulders. “and you never asked.”
“but when we were desperately cooing about how fun forming a band would be, you didn’t think at any point to mention that you could help with that?”
jotaro didn’t get it. he never had—not in any of the plethora of coming of age movies where the friend group wants to form a band, nor when his friends repeatedly mentioned it being a fun prospect. it mainly just seemed like turning a hobby into work, in his eyes—something you enjoy (or in his case, once enjoyed) being turned needlessly into something more complicated, something requiring effort rather than simply joy.
he didn’t even enjoy it anymore. not since high school jazz band had gone wrong—yes, he still held a grudge. he’d probably never let go of that grudge. that bastard—
“i can’t help with that.” jotaro reiterates, shaking his head. “i haven’t played since high school. you guys can find someone else.”
“high school wasn’t that long ago.” kakyoin speaks up for the first time. “muscle memory, or whatever. i’m sure you’re fine at it.”
“i said no.” jotaro crosses his arms over his chest. “i don’t know where my bass guitar even is.” lie—he knows exactly where it is, prominently displayed in his childhood room. his mother insisted that his room be kept exactly how he left it, and thus, it remained nicely on its stand, next to his bed. that was the last time it was frequently used. poor thing was probably gathering dust, not having been touched in almost four years—
“besides, that’d still leave you with no guitarist. and i’m strictly a bassist.” he pauses for a beat, tacking on more words when he realizes his mistake, “... was strictly a bassist.”
the damage is already done. “ah, so you are a bassist for hire, non?” polnareff saunters up to where jotaro sits on the couch, leaning in close to his face. “what is your going rate?”
“you couldn’t afford my going rate.” he warns.
“a week of faking your attendance and giving you my notes from philosophy?”
jotaro’s least favorite class he was stuck in, for sure—waste of fucking time—but still. to get up on a stage again? to pick up star platinum and tune her again? “not even close. i should send you home for making such a lowball offer.”
kakyoin laughs quietly behind his hand. their living arrangements are a slightly sensitive topic—when they finally got to move out of their dorms their sophomore year, polnareff had excitedly come to jotaro and kakyoin to propose a three-bedroom apartment. kakyoin had been the one to break the news that they had already signed a lease for a two bedroom without him.
between the ‘how long were you going to hide this betrayal from me?!’ and the ‘i feel like my best friends don’t even love me!’ exclamations, it was hard to get a word in edgewise. jotaro had finally raised his voice to explain that it wasn’t polnareff, it was the damn mangy mutt he found on campus and had been hiding in his dorm.
polnareff was annoying, but manageable. jotaro would sooner drop out than live with iggy.
“how about… plus covering your saturday closing shifts for… two weeks? a month?”
jotaro’s nemesis, weekend closing shifts at dahlia’s. polnareff is now speaking his language, as much as he hates to admit it. working at the restaurant was nice for the extra cash, and, well. it’s how they had all met their first year of university, and while jotaro pretends to rue the day they were first all on shift together, he can’t bring himself to quit. polnareff and kakyoin were waiters, while jotaro was a busboy—then, over time, he moved up to a bartending position, and polnareff followed suit. bartending generally had better pay, and jotaro’s attitude was certainly not suited to waiting tables. while polnareff was kind enough to strangers, he tended to make too many mistakes on orders for it to make up the difference. kakyoin, however, could make an ungodly amount of money in tips every night—charming bastard.
the drunks in the bar as they got closer and closer to closing time on saturdays drove jotaro up the wall, and even worse, they were terrible tippers. it would be nice to not have to worry about it for a few weeks… but it still wasn't enough. before jotaro can deny polnareff’s offer, their suspiciously silent redhead spoke up.
“... doesn’t your cousin play guitar, or something?” kakyoin’s voice makes the both of them turn to face him, rather than argue with each other. “i mean, i’m sure if i gave josuke a call, he’d be first in line to convince you to—”
“no! don’t—shut up. don’t bring him into this.”
“why not? i thought he was pretty good. i’ve only heard him play a couple times, but…”
“because the number of fucking times he has told me, ‘yo, we could totally form a family band!’ is, frankly, criminal.” jotaro groans. “besides, the kid just started university. his mom would kick my ass if i took him away from his studies, especially while he’s adjusting to school.”
his friends are both silent for a moment. kakyoin snickers, and polnareff quickly follows suit. “how big and beefy is your aunt, if she can kick your ass?”
that earns an aggressive eye-roll from jotaro. “she’s not, but she is scary.” this makes polnareff laugh even louder.
in truth, jotaro is certain that josuke’s mother would love for the two of them to spend more time together—she had been nervous about sending her precious child to a university so far away, but knowing that he would be near an older, semi-reliable individual like jotaro made it easier. it’s not like jotaro didn’t like his cousin, not at all, it’s just…
difficult. and weird. his cousin had met kakyoin and polnareff a few times, spent some time with them, but isn’t it weird to make your friends deal with your cousin who’s almost four years younger than you (and has the maturity level to show for it)? it gives the same energy as the mom calling for you to ‘bring your little brother along!’
that’s how it had felt in high school, at least—his mother and aunt calling in unison to ‘let josuke come too!’ as if josuke wasn’t 14 years old; a whole different world, a different era to jotaro’s extremely old and mature 18 year old self. josuke would totally cramp on his incredibly cool style in front of his jazz band friends.
while he was no longer too worried about that now that he was 21, every time josuke was around, kakyoin and polnareff loved to crack jokes about how he was just a more agreeable alternative to jotaro. similar, but different—kinder, softer around the edges. jotaro would never admit that it bugged him, but on some level…
it did. just a little.
kakyoin puts a hand on his hip. “fine, but if not him, then who?”
jotaro finally scoffs, the words pulling him from his thoughts. “i told you, i’m not interested.”
the room goes silent for a moment. kakyoin and polnareff look to each other.
“fine. you win.” kakyoin finally sighs. “stubborn prick. i’ll give up.”
“whaaaaat?” polnareff’s indignant cry could surely be heard from space. “you can’t be serious! letting him off the hook like that? so easy?”
“if he doesn’t want to, we won’t make him.” kakyoin shrugs, finally turning back to make eye contact with jotaro. “a shame.”
jotaro squints. he knows that look, knows that fire in kakyoin’s eyes. this isn’t over. he’s planning something.
“i’m serious, kakyoin.”
“oh, i know. so am i. i won’t make you do anything.”
jotaro is on edge for the next few days, certain that kakyoin’s plan will go into effect any day now. he has to be ready, on guard. his roommate is a sneaky, cunning bastard, and he knows it.
why is he so worried about it? kakyoin said it himself—he won’t make jotaro do anything. and while he was many things, he was no liar. but he had seemed so… determined.
when his phone vibrates in the middle of writing up his bioscience lab report, he is shocked to find that that determination was starting to hit.
[josuke]: heyyy jotaro! i hear you and your friends might be making a band??
fucking prick. jotaro has half a mind to march to kakyoin’s room now and give him a piece of his mind.
[jotaro]: you heard wrong
[josuke]: no wayyyy, kakyoin said you guys were kinda serious. don’t hide it from me!
[jotaro]: im not hiding shit
[jotaro]: there is no band
[jotaro]: there never will be
[josuke]: …
[josuke]: is this about the stuff that happened with dio at the band festival?
motherfucker just had to bring it up, huh?
[jotaro]: fuck off
‘stuff that happened with dio at the band festival’ was the understatement of the century. it wasn’t that simple—it was a personal attack. jotaro would be happy if he never thought of it again, never had to see dio’s sneering face in his mind’s eye again as he chimed in with the ‘oh, no, what bad luck! i guess i’ll have to take your place, jojo. ’
[josuke]: jotaro, i know that whole thing was terrible, but it has been years! you've got to move on at some point :(
[jotaro]: ill block you
[josuke]: besides… i thought that’d make you really interested in something like this. since the botb signups are coming up…
[jotaro]: what the hell are you talking about
[josuke]: you know! the battle of the bands? student bands from all the universities in the area come together and duke it out
[josuke]: well, not like duke it out.
[josuke]: duke it out but musically
[jotaro]: in what world would this change my mind
[josuke]: it’s a big deal!
[josuke]: there’s cash prizes and everything!
[jotaro]: so?
[josuke]: do i have to spell it out?
[josuke]: there’s no way that dio and his band aren’t going to be there!
[josuke]: prize money? he wouldn’t miss it for the world.
[josuke]: plus, i hate to admit it, but they’re really good. they have a good chance of winning.
[jotaro]: good for fucking dio
jotaro slaps his phone back on his desk, face down, aggressively turning his attention back to his lab notebook. this report is due soon, and it won’t write itself—
his phone vibrates again. and again. and again. curse josuke, curse kakyoin, curse dio. curiosity gets the better of him, and he begrudgingly flips his phone again to read.
[josuke]: i know revenge is bad but this is kind of a good way to do it!
[josuke]: no one would get hurt. except his pride...
[josuke]: which is kiiiind of a good thing. he needs to get knocked down a few notches!
[jotaro]: i dont want revenge
false.
[jotaro]: i just want to stop thinking about it
… half-true.
[josuke]: closure is the best way to move on, or so i’ve heard!
[jotaro]: fuck off seriously
his phone is silent once again. jotaro sighs, placing it face down, more gently this time. he slides it away. maybe that’ll be the end of it—he reminds himself to tell kakyoin to delete josuke’s number before turning back to his lab report.
the room is silent for some time, save for the scribbling in jotaro’s notebook. his mind helpfully offers that the look on dio’s face when he found out his band lost to jotaro’s would be worth more than his own weight in gold. maybe that face would replace the sneering one that lingers in the back of his mind.
“oh, no! what bad luck! i guess i’ll have to take your place, jojo.”
jotaro thinks about his bass, star. thinks about how it would feel to play her again, to indulge in music again, for the first time since his unfortunately timed broken arm in high school. he thinks about dio, and thinks about the music scholarship that bastard got—no doubt because of his performance at the nationwide band festival. the nationwide band festival that had jotaro’s name on the program, that was his moment—
jotaro lifts his phone again.
[jotaro]: tell kakyoin that he is a terrible friend
[jotaro]: and tell him i wont sing no matter what
josuke’s only response is a criminal amount of confetti emojis.