Spin the bottle: A Jotaro and Kakyoin Fanfiction

The Morning of: Part 2

From Kakyoin: "This is the recipe: Kosher salt, 1 lb. of pasta, I like it better with just spaghetti, 4 tbsp. of extra-virgin olive oil. 2 tsp. of freshly cracked black pepper. 1 cup of finely grated Pecorino Romano, and 3/4 cup of finely grated Cacio De Roma, but I'll bring the Pecorino Romano, and the Cacio De Roma. We can make dinner together, if you want?"

Wait, it doesn't say how much Kosher salt I need, and he didn't specify say what kind of spaghetti he wanted. Good grief, he's probably off break and back to work, so I can't ask him what he wanted.

I head into the store, holding my phone at my side, and my other hand in my pants pocket. The breeze glazes over my face, making my nose sting a bit; and as expected, it stopped when I walked though the stores automatic doorway.

It's been pretty chilly recently, I've always enjoyed a freshly cooked meal when it's cold; hope Kakyoin does too, but this is different, I'm making dinner with Kakyoin.

I look at the labels above the lanes of food, turning into the lane with the mark of "Box Dinner".

I'm not the best at cooking, so if I mess up, Kakyoin will be right beside me to see.

My worrys circle my mind as I slowly walk down the lane, darting my eyes up and down back and forth slowly, on the search for spaghetti.

I'm not really the best at admiting my mistakes or feelings either... but-

I stop in front of the section of pasta, and crouch down to the lower shelfs.

-even if Kakyoin doesn't like me back, I still want to hang out, my main consider is that he doesn't want to hang out if I tell him. Should I just tell him I'm gay and that I like him? Maybe a bit blunt, but it cuts to the chase.

I grab the edge of a blue, slender, rectangular, and pull it off the bottom shelf to lifted up to my face.

Just regular pasta, or something like Angle Hair, Arrabbiata?

I look at different pastas, unable to decide what type of pasta Kakyoin would like.

Ugh, I want to hurry up so I go home and take a nap, but what kind of spaghetti did he want? Is spaghetti a specific kind?

I stare at the boxes, they all seem pretty similar to me.

Can't I just get both, I can spend as much money on Kakyoin as I want, right? I know their different, just I don't know what makes them different, but if I get them both... but wait-

I look up at all the rest of the pasta, knowing what I'll probably do, and groaned deeply.

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"And here's your change." The young male cashier politely told me, holding his hand out, I lift my hand to his, and he drops what's left of my paycheck into my hand.