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Rain doesn’t come often to the city, but when it does, the drops beat down throughout the afternoon and into the evening to a staccato rhythm. In their shared apartment, Jotaro lies asleep on the couch with his head resting on a pillow covering the armrest. His laptop is on his lap. The screen remains bright and shows a draft of the research paper on black abalone from Hyogara Rocks he was working on before drifting off to sleep.
Jotaro wakes up to the rattling of the door opening and closing. Josuke walks in looking more disheveled than usual. His pompadour fell apart from the rain and his Speedwagon Foundation jacket soaked through. Josuke shakes his hair like a dog while holding a plastic bag in one hand. Water drips down to their once clean floor. Josuke kicks the rolled up mat back to its place blocking the gap between the front door and the floor. The runaway strands of hair remind Jotaro of a picture he once saw of the old man in his youth.
“Hey,” Josuke says. “Did I wake you up?”
He studies Jotaro’s face. “You dozed off with your glasses on again.”
“Not really,” Jotaro says. He places his laptop on the coffee table and moves from his spot on the couch. “You’re late. What happened?”
“Sorry, I forgot to text you that I’d be working late,” Josuke replies, hanging his damp backpack on a hook. “Didn’t check the forecast today and got caught up in the rain on the way home. Ended up falling asleep on the bus and missed my stop too. Did you eat yet?”
“I had some leftovers when I came back from the university,” Jotaro says. “I was waiting for you to come home though.”
Josuke pauses mid-removal of his shoes.
“You didn’t have to, you know,” Josuke replies. He raises the plastic bag like a trophy. “I bought some roast pork and noodle soup from a restaurant on the way home. The bún riêu is for you if you’re still hungry. The egg noodles with wontons is mine, but we can trade if you want.”
“Sounds good,” Jotaro says. “I’ll heat the food up.”
Before Jotaro takes the bag from Josuke, he runs his fingers through Josuke’s hair. His hair is still damp, and droplets of water trail down his hand. Up close, Josuke smells like rain, with a hint of his favorite brand of pomade. Jotaro had developed a fondness for the scent over the years they lived together. It felt nostalgic due to Josuke’s devotion to the brand and reminded Jotaro of the time he spent in Morioh. Josuke doesn’t protest; his hair has been already ruined for the day, and Jotaro is doing little to remedy the situation.
“Go change into something dry. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t.”
Jotaro reaches for the bag with his dry hand. Their fingers brush past each other. There’s something about the action that makes Jotaro think that waiting for Josuke to come home is worth the wait.
*
The rain clears up later into the night. In the morning, the sky is heavy with fog. The only sign that it rained the day before is the pavement darkened with water. It’s Saturday, and they’re sleeping in bed together.
Jotaro is the first to wake up. He lifts up the arm Josuke has wrapped around his midsection and rolls over to take a look at Josuke. He’s still asleep, with his chest slowly rising up and down in time with every breath he takes. Their weekends are usually like this; Josuke sleeps in until Jotaro wakes him up for breakfast and their day begins.
When Jotaro shifts back to his original position, the pictures on the nightstand catch his attention. Jotaro won’t consider himself someone that enjoys taking pictures, but the ones he has on hand of himself with others are of memories that he cherishes the most. He thinks of the group photo taken in Egypt; it’s a photo he has copies of in their apartment and on his office desk. In the living room, there are photos of Jotaro with Jolyne at various stages of her life on the mantle. There’s also photos of Josuke with Jolyne, taken during the times when Jolyne was out of school on break. The picture of Jotaro and Josuke at Jolyne’s middle school promotion also comes to mind, with Jolyne standing proud with her certificate in hand.
On the nightstand, however, are pictures of him with Josuke. The one that catches his eye is the framed photo of them at the Battery Spencer overlook with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background.
It was almost strange how quickly Jotaro got used to living with Josuke. Sure, he was the one that offered Josuke a place to stay, but the years he spent living alone after the divorce and during his postdoctoral years came to an end when Josuke moved from Morioh to San Francisco after graduating university. Jotaro had been a year into his position as an assistant professor when Josuke decided to take a job offer from the Speedwagon Foundation. With Josuke’s move, they transitioned from a long-distance relationship to sharing a space for the first time.
He remembered the details leading up to the moment in the picture. They took the picture during Josuke’s first week in San Francisco, when Josuke was persistent in his efforts to have Jotaro show him around the city. Jotaro took Josuke to Battery Spencer on the weekend. Before going to their destination, Jotaro bought lunch at a sandwich shop.
“There’s eight sandwiches in here,” Josuke said, frowning as he peers into the bag. “Are we eating all of them?”
“It’s buy three, get one free,” Jotaro replied. “Meal planning.”
“Meal planning,” Josuke repeated, skeptical of Jotaro’s answer. He reached into the bag and took a sandwich out. “Are these all the same thing?”
“The ones with the orange rubber bands are grilled pork. The green rubber bands are the regular sandwiches with cold cuts.”
“I’ll take this one.” Josuke held a sandwich wrapped with a green rubber band. He unwrapped it, and took a bite. Jotaro opted for the sandwich with grilled pork. They ate together in silence.
“Jotaro-san,” Josuke said. He pointed at the beige meat in his sandwich. “What’s this? Fish cake?”
“It’s chả lụa,” Jotaro replied. “Vietnamese ham. Not pork.”
“Oh,” Josuke replied. He furrowed his brow. “I like the sandwich. It’s not like the yakisoba sandwiches back home, but it’s still good in its own way.”
After eating lunch, Jotaro flagged down a passerby, handing them a camera and asked to take a photo of them with the bridge in the background. Josuke wrapped his arm around Jotaro’s shoulder, holding him close. Jotaro does the same to Josuke. They smile. The camera shutter clicks. The moment is stopped in time.
Jotaro breaks away from his thoughts when he feels an arm snake around his waist. It’s Josuke.
“Did you just wake up?” Jotaro asks.
“Yeah,” Josuke says, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the soft of Jotaro’s belly.
Josuke props himself up with his left elbow and glances over Jotaro’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at the picture of us during your first week here.”
“Oh,” Josuke says. “What for?”
“Just thinking.”
“Just thinking?”
Jotaro feels something burn within his chest. It’s the same warmth he always experiences when he’s around Josuke. It pulses with a constant beat, and wraps around him the same way that Josuke does every morning.
“Yeah,” he says. “Just thinking.”
*
“You know, I don’t remember there being so many stairs here,” Josuke says, meandering through the stone labyrinth. “The walk back is going to be all uphill.”
“I don’t think it would be as bad as you think,” Jotaro replies. “Uphill is easier than downhill.”
Jotaro stands outside of the labyrinth and watches as Josuke attempts to follow the path outlined with rocks. Watching Josuke move makes him feel some kind of secondhand dizziness with the number of sharp turns Josuke makes on his journey to the center. Jotaro pulls his coat close together and adjusts his hat. It’s a clear, yet windy day today. He isn’t sure how Josuke can act so carefree given the weather; isn’t he cold wearing only a souvenir jacket and jeans? Jotaro puts his hands in his pockets. He touches the clementine he snatched from the fruit basket before they left for a walk at Lands End.
“Jotaro,” Josuke calls. “Look.”
And of course, Jotaro looks.
Josuke stands grinning in the center of the labyrinth. He waves. Jotaro waves back and snaps a picture with his phone. Despite the wind, Josuke’s hair doesn’t budge. Jotaro supposes that it’s because of the pomade Josuke uses to style his pompadour before they left their apartment, but he decides not to comment.
“Did I blink?”
Jotaro glances at the picture. “No, you didn’t.”
“Good. Let’s keep walking down then.”
After walking down another set of stairs, Josuke and Jotaro arrive at the beach. Josuke takes off his shoes and socks, then rolls up his jeans. He walks barefoot close to where the waves rush up and meet the sand. Jotaro opts to walk further away, uninterested in ruining his snakeskin boots with saltwater.
They continue, with Josuke walking on wet sand and Jotaro on rocks until they find a place to sit together on the concrete ruins of Sutro Baths. Jotaro takes out the clementine that sits deep in his coat pocket. It’s small, yet bright in his hands and glows like the setting sun. The outside feels a little warm from the time it spent inside, but he starts peeling the clementine anyways. His nails break through the peel easily and Jotaro peels the clementine into a spiral. The ocean air starts to smell like citrus.
Jotaro glances at Josuke through his peripheral after he finishes peeling the clementine. He’s focused on the push and pull of the waves in the distance.
“Hey, Josuke,” Jotaro says, nudging Josuke with his elbow. “Want some?”
“Want what?”
“A clementine. I peeled it already.”
“Oh,” Josuke laughs, amused. “That’s kind of funny, actually.” Jotaro looks down at Josuke’s hands. There’s a faint orange tinge to his fingertips and a clementine of his own neatly split into two. The pith is mostly removed and it’s piled on top of the peel on Josuke’s lap.
Josuke hands half of the clementine to Jotaro.
“Take it.”
Jotaro tips his hat down low and tries to fight back a smile, but he lets it slip through.
“Let’s trade.”