queued you fools

Unaltered

“Are you sure about this?” Jotaro calls from the other room. His voice echoes oddly off the walls of the bathroom; the resonance of the tile strips all emotional context from his tone, but Noriaki doesn’t have to hear the audible tells to parse the deep uncertainty under the other’s question. “This looks dumb.”

“It does not,” Noriaki calls back without looking up from the book he has open in his lap or moving from where he’s curled up in one of their overstuffed armchairs with his feet tucked under him and his elbow braced against one arm so he can lean against the support of his hand. “You’re the same size now as you were then, it ought to fit just fine.”

“It’s not about how it fits,” Jotaro growls, with enough force on the word that Noriaki looks up over the top of his glasses to consider the light spilling from the open door to the bathroom. “It’s about how it looks.” There’s a beat of silence. “Which is dumb.”

Noriaki reaches to pull his glasses off and set them against the table alongside him as he unfolds from the chair. “You need a second opinion.”

“I do not,” Jotaro insists, sounding certain in a way that would probably be convincing to someone who hadn’t spent the last decade living with him. “I’m taking it off.”

“No you’re not,” Noriaki says, setting the book aside without marking his place and getting to his feet with more alacrity than he expected to need. “At least let me see it.”

“No,” Jotaro growls. “It looks stupid.”

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