Ink Black Coffee and Syrupy Sweet Words

Chapter One - The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Jotaro Kujo was never one to drink coffee. He never liked the bitterness, and it stained his beloved books too easily. Not to mention the fact that the smell made him sick to his stomach. It was just his luck, though, that one of his most frequent customers carried that scent with him everywhere. But he never complained. The guy never stayed for long, and he always bought the same thing. A few art books, and a pen or two. He never said a word, either. Until today, when Jotaro was ringing up his usual purchase.

"To tell you the truth, I haven't bought a book from another bookstore in months. I've fallen in love with this one." he said, quiet and reserved.  "Something about it is just... Enchanting. I can't put my finger on what it is, though."

Jotaro simply nodded, not really paying attention to the substance of the 'conversation'. He was caught up in the fact that this guy was actually speaking. Not only that, but his voice was really nice, too.

"Are you even listening to me? That's not good customer service, you know." he said with a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening. You were talking about the store, or something like that." Jotaro replied, a bit of an edge to his voice. The coffee smell was overwhelming, now that they were semi-close to eachother.

"Hmm. You seem out of sorts. Maybe you need a cup of coffee? Trust me, the stuff works wonders."

"No thanks. I don't drink coffee."

The young man tilted his head confusedly, looking Jotaro up and down like he was some alien beast.

"C'mon, at least have one cup? It'll be on me. You won't even have to leave the shop."

"I said no. Coffee makes me nauseous as all hell. There's no way I'd willingly drink it."

"Alright, alright." he threw up his hands. "You win. Sorry for bothering you. Jeez."

Something about his tone made Jotaro feel weird. He didn't mean to hurt the guy's feelings. He was just being honest, as always.

"...Listen. I don't usually do this, but... I'll give your coffee a shot. But only this once." he said reluctantly.

'Why am I doing this?' Jotaro thought. 'I don't even know this person...'

This made the red-head's face light up. He started to babble on excitedly while digging for something within the depths of his bag.

"You won't regret this, I'm sure of it. I'm a barista at the café across the street, and people say I make really good coffee for someone my age– ah! There it is."

He pulled a green thermos out of his bag, and unscrewed the top. He placed the mug-like lid on the desk, poured some of the thermos' contents into it, and pushed it towards Jotaro. The smell bowled him over, much stronger than the faint one that followed the barista around. The coffee itself was a light and milky brown, and had lots of steam coming off of it, which made Jotaro even more nauseous. He picked up the cup with a sigh, blew on it a bit, and took a small sip. It was hot, but pleasantly so. And, to his surprise, it wasn't bitter, but instead sweet and creamy. As much as he hated to admit it, he had enjoyed it.

"I can see it all in your face. You liked it, right?"

Jotaro said nothing, electing to take another sip instead.

"I'll strike you a deal. You can keep the thermos; and I'll even bring you more when I drop by."

"What's the catch?"

"You have to come visit me sometime. Staying cooped up in this dreary shop isn't good for your health."

Jotaro grimaced at his words, but he was entirely right. Living above the store had its perks, but he didn't really get to go out much, on the rare occasions he wanted to.

"Tch. Why would I leave to go see someone who's name I don't even know?" he said, folding his arms.

"Noriaki Kakyoin." the barista countered. "Now you know. Though, I did never ask for your name, which is quite rude of me."

"... Jotaro. Jotaro Kujo." he muttered.

"Well then, Jotaro, I'll be expecting you."

Kakyoin stared him directly in the eye, defiantly waiting for him to protest. Once more, Jotaro said nothing, averting his gaze out the window instead. He chuckled and packed up his bag.

"See you soon, hikikomori." he teased. "I'll have a fresh cup waiting for you."

Jotaro heard the tinkle of the bells attached to the door, and put his head in his hands. Somehow, he had roped himself into an inescapable mess. The thermos was still steaming a bit, so he put the top back on. Unable to focus on much of anything, he closed up for the night, and climbed the stairs in the very back of the store to his studio apartment. Once inside, he put the thermos in the fridge, peeled off his uniform and threw it on the couch, and flopped onto his bed. The day had worn him out immensely, despite him only having a few customers. He tried to flip through the book on his bedside table, but his thoughts kept drifting to the barista, and what he had said before he left.

'See you soon, hikikomori.'

Was he really a hikikomori? He didn't leave the house very often, that much was true, but it wasn't him being afraid, it was just how he had decided to live. Though, before now, he had never entertained the notion, so he didn't know what to believe anymore. If he was, then there wasn't much he could do about it, which pissed him off, and if he wasn't, then he would have done all that worrying for nothing, which also pissed him off. He tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. The exhaustion he had felt earlier had been mostly banished by his incessant fretting. His worry eventually simmered into annoyance, which led him to sleep, but not without dreams of coffee and baristas and staying inside all day.

"Me, a hikikomori?" he mumbled sleepily to no one in particular. "Good grief, that's stupid."