homecoming :: josuke x reader

first period :: cold brew

The first thing I do when I sit down is look out the window, and one of the first things she does is ask me, "So how have you been?"

I snap back to reality and look at her, and then I look at the barista behind her who has a handful of napkins. He wipes at the table behind us and she moves a little bit so our eyes are realigned with each other, the same way someone would do to intimidate you.

To be frank, I don't remember her name.

But what I do know is that we sat by each other in our 8 AM class during sophomore year. I have to look on the label stuck on her cup to know - it's Amber.

I haven't ordered, even though she offered to pay. I clasp my hands and fold my legs, my eyes still darting around the cafe. I'm not nervous, I'm just...out of my element. I haven't been out and about with other people lately and I don't study in coffee shops. Too loud.

I muster a smile. "I've been good. How about you?"

If there is one thing you need to know about Amber, it is that she likes to talk. Particularly to me, because most of the time, I listen when no one else will. And it was every time - I would be trying to get some crunch hours in during class and pound out an essay, but no, she had to tell me about her sorority and the party she and her boyfriend did coke for the first time at.

It was like I set off a bomb. She yapped and yapped about everything that had happened to her during the interchange from sophomores in college to juniors, and I patiently watched and waited, nodding my head every two or three sentences, looking like a bobblehead to feign some attention.

"...On that note, have you ever been out of the country?"

I look at her. "Yeah. You know I lived in Japan, and...I went to Italy for two weeks a while ago."

"Italy?" She claps her hands together, excited. "What did you do? Fun parties? Limoncello? Hot Italian boys?!"

"No, no," I say, waving my hands at her. "I got sent there to do a favor for someone. I--"

"By who?"

I stop with my mouth half-open. "An older friend."

"SUGAR DADDY?"

"SHHH! No." Several people turn around to look at us following her exclamation before eyeing me and turning back to their conversations. "This one guy I knew...he knew a dude whose kid was living in Italy, and he needed some info from him." I lean back in my seat and cross my arms. "In only 48 hours, the little shit stole my wallet, passport, and luggage, but then I fought a dude with him and that was it. Didn't even get the info my friend wanted. But I did get a 15 minute lecture about a little dream of his, so that was something."

"Little shit?" She asks with a smirk.

"He was 15. Blonde little freak," I pick at my nail. "I've got some respect for him, though. That's not easy to pull off." The cushion on the seat compresses under my weight. "I wonder where he is now."

That reminds her of something and she goes off on another story. I don't know what it's about again, because I'm too busy looking out the window out of the corner of my eyes. The man across the street is washing his store's windows. Someone jaywalks across the street. A dog goes by and pees on a streetlamp. And she is still on a tangent.

"That happened to you one time, didn't it?"

"What did?" I scratch my head.

"You've ghosted that one dude before you left Japan."

My heart skips a beat and I feel as if the color drained from my face. She realizes that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't supposed to bring that up and she grimaces ever so slightly. Sighing longingly, I slump over a little bit. "I've told you already. I say goodbye before I left."

"It sounds like he still liked you, though. So what did you do about him?"

"We dated for three years. Of course he did." I tilt my head back and smile, relishing the feeling of summer 1999. Fuck. What did I do about him?

I still remember the day I decided I would move back to the United States. I was sitting at the dinner table in my little apartment in the hills of Morioh. I had just finished talking on the phone with my aunt, and she had offered lodging if I ever decided to come back. And I realized, then and there, two very vital things.

There was no one to help me renew my long-term visa set to expire soon: my parents were in a jar at my grandparent's house in America, and I didn't know how to do it myself. If I wanted to get out legally, I would have to act right then.

I called her back and asked her to buy me a plane ticket, and then immediately after, I cried so hard I threw up four times. And that's when it dawned on me: my forehead was pressed to cold porcelain when I realized that I would have to break up with him. And then another waterfall came from my mouth.

The next morning, I drove a few hours to the American embassy in Tokyo and started to get things sorted out.

I run my hand down my face. "You always think love is gonna last forever when you're 16 years old, don't you?"

She laughs. "Sure."

My stomach does a little lurch and I find myself biting the inside of my cheek remembering how the kid with the pomp made me feel when we shared beds, and sodas, and kisses. "Well, I..."

Somehow I can feel his hand - calloused from years of fistfights, run across my cheek. I knew I'd be leaving more than a decade's worth of progress behind when I left - beating up a serial killer in secrecy, graduating high school, using my stand for whatever reason - but the thing I was most worried about losing was him, even though long before we had even started going out I knew that it would happen.

And it did.

"Shit. I went right up to his doorstep, the day before I was set to leave, and I told him I had to leave Japan. I said, 'I can't live in Japan legally anymore.' No warning or nothing. " I sniff even though I'm not sad. "I put it off out of fear."

"He asked, 'Am I ever gonna see you again?' And I went, 'I'm not sure."

Sniff.

"The way he looked at me...it--it still makes me feel like crying. He..." I pause. "He didn't deserve to have his heart broken like that and I came to his house with a sledgehammer."

"And?" She wipes her finger under her lips, collecting the drops of coffee from the drink she just took a sip from.

"The day I left for real, I cried on his doorstep. I gave him these little earth earrings I had--"

I see her raise an eyebrow-- "He had his ears pierced." I gesture at my ears with a pinching motion, and she nods as if to say 'I see, go on.'

"--and I apologized. First I cried really hard and said I really didn't want to do this, but we both knew that it wouldn't survive if we were on different continents. I thanked him, we kissed one last time, and that was it." Another sniff. "I left. We broke it off there."

Actually feeling as if I'm about to cry, I cover my mouth as nonchalantly as I can. "Fuck. I'm getting sad. I still miss him so damn much."

"And what was his name?"

My stomach lurches again. A name that used to so easily slide off my tongue now refused to come out.

"....Josuke. Josuke Higashikata."
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01. — there will be a time that you miss the pass more than the past will miss you. this is normal. ☆