Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

7.

“—Cae?”

Pausing in the middle of his apple slicing, Caesar looked in the direction of the voice. “Sorry?”

“Could you pass me the paper towels?” Suzie asked, pointing at the roll on the counter.

Caesar dropped the knife, grabbed the roll and handed it to Suzie, who, after wiping her hands on her flour-streaked apron, took it with a cheery ‘thanks’.

Suzie was baking a cake for today, and it didn’t bother Caesar at all that they were leaving for the Joestar estate once the cake would be done – Ms Erina had planned some sort of a family gathering, and they were spending the day there.

He’d see Joseph and clear things up between them and they’d go back to being best friends and it’d all be okay and maybe he’d get to find a lovely wife and have a happy family after all, even if he was a bit of a homosexual now. Which didn’t shake everything he’d known about himself so hard that Master Lisa Lisa had had to talk him through it.

Yes, he could see it in his head. He was going to find some excuse to get Joseph somewhere private so they could talk, then before Joseph could say a word, he’d tell Joseph – while gazing into those beautiful eyes – that he’d made a terrible mistake and that he was sorry and that he wanted things to go back to normal (yes, he still was going to ‘wing’ this part, but he just couldn’t help mapping the most important bits out first), and Joseph would nod understandingly, accepting his apology, and crack some stupid joke that they’d both laugh at, and they’d make out passionately and since they were both half homosexual now maybe they could experiment with some things—wait, what?

Okay, maybe it was a bad idea to see Joseph again when half the things he thought about Joseph still would’ve made his properly Catholic mother weep and make the Sign of the Cross multiple times in a row. Probably. (He wasn’t sure how that prayer worked anymore, now that he’d realised his whole life had been a lie that he’d kept telling himself.)

It was fine though, really. He was just having his first man-crush, and if it worked the same as a woman-crush, he’d get over it soon enough.

And it was probably the same with Joseph – he, being inexperienced, had mistaken a crush as genuine romantic feelings and made a big confession because the breakup had got him confused.

And it was fine.

Caesar was fine with Joseph not actually being in love with him – in fact, he thought it was better this way because this way they got to stay friends forever and not have to worry about what would happen if one of them died or they broke up or something.

The knife made the sound of rustling sand as it cut through the meat of the apple; Suzie was humming her Happy Baking Song.

How could she still be so happy all the time? How could she still act like everything was normal with him, even after all the heartbreak he must’ve caused her?

“Suzie, can I ask you something?” Caesar said before he could stop himself.

Pausing her song, Suzie looked up from the bowl of stuff she’d been working on. “Of course.”

“Why did you break up with him?” His voice cracked. It was the closest thing to “do you hate me now” that he could manage. He didn’t want to dance around it any longer – it was eating him alive. If she hated him, he wanted to know, and he would make himself scarce if that was what she wanted.

“Oh.” Suzie froze almost imperceptibly before continuing mixing the batter.

Realising how stupid and invasive his question had been, Caesar scrambled to add, “You don’t have to answer that; I don’t know why I said it. Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Suzie shrugged. “I guess I just realised it wasn’t working out. We loved each other, but we were both hurting, and it wasn’t sustainable.”

Although her tone in no way implied any resentment or blame, Caesar knew the undercurrent of sadness in it was all his fault. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Suzie looked up from the bowl, her soft, blue eyes meeting Caesar’s, conveying something that was not forgiveness – as though she had never for one second blamed him for her short-lived relationship – but carried the same weight and seriousness.

Did that mean they were still friends?

Caesar opened his mouth to ask, but Suzie spoke up first.

“Cae,” she said, “You know I love you, right?”

The half-cut apple rolled off Caesar’s fingers and fell onto the plate with a heavy thud. “What?”

Suzie gave him a little slap on the forearm. “You heard what I said.”

In hindsight, Caesar should’ve seen it coming – in fact, now that he’d heard it, he wondered why it hadn’t come any time sooner. Even the taciturn Master Lisa Lisa had said it to him multiple times, and Suzie, with an expressiveness that rivaled Joseph’s, was almost the polar opposite of her. But he should’ve known it without her having to say it. Suzie had nursed him back to health; Suzie knew precisely which hair products he used (he used a lot of those); Suzie was baking a cake he’d told her he’d liked as a kid. Of course Suzie loved him, and of course she didn’t hate him for what had happened. He’d just been too dense to see. Too focused on his rage and grief and guilt of the past that he couldn’t see what he had had in the present.

Staring at the half-faded, jagged, ugly scars on his arms, Caesar wondered, as a distant sadness filled his chest, when he had forgotten how family worked. Wasn’t this the one thing he’d been sure he’d wanted from the start? And yet he couldn’t see it when he’d had it right in front of his face. He had Suzie, and he had Lisa Lisa, and he had wasted so much time and energy doubting them and his role with them, when everything they’d done for him should’ve told him loud and clear that none of his fears were ever going to come true because it wouldn’t have been how family worked. Because family wouldn’t care if he was useless, or if he was mean sometimes, or if he made stupid mistakes all the time, because family would care about him and stay for him. And there had been no ill-fitting moulds he had to shove himself into all along, and everything really was that simple.

Before he could completely drift away, Suzie’s soft, small hand covered his and gave it a light squeeze.

Caesar blinked at Suzie’s smile. Since when had her eyes been so blue?

He hadn’t had a family for so long that he’d forgotten what he was supposed to do in this kind of situation, but he knew Suzie, and he knew what he wanted to say to her.

Scratching his face and looking anywhere but at Suzie, Caesar mumbled, “I lo—” He swallowed because he suddenly had to, because the words were still difficult. “—love you, too.”

Suzie’s eyes rounded in surprised before she beamed at him, and he, pretending this hadn’t been the first time he’d said those words out loud sincerely in ten years, shoved a handful of apple slices into his mouth to distract himself from the uncomfortable heat on his cheeks.

Giggling, Suzie returned to her work. “You better leave some of that for the cake.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Caesar said through a mouthful of sweet, juicy apples and picked up the one he’d been working on again.

Once he’d finished slicing up all the apples though, Suzie threw him out of the kitchen saying he was “getting in the way” (it wasn’t his fault the kitchen was so small) and “eating all the apples” (she should’ve bought more apples).

Just as well. He should get ready anyways – he had an hourlong hair routine to get through.

Which had nothing to do with Joseph.

Caesar just liked to look good.

The melting snow sparkled under the sunlight as Caesar climbed out of the car. Everything looked a bit dirty now that the mud underneath was starting to show again, but at least his breaths weren’t turning white in the air anymore.

A bubbly feeling tingled his skin when he saw the Joestar mansion looming at the end of the driveway. He wasn’t sure if he was nervous or excited, but his legs refused to follow Lisa Lisa to the house.

A door closed behind him, and Suzie skipped to his side with a basket in hand.

“Let’s go,” she said, smiling.

Caesar nodded and willed his legs to walk.

He told himself it’d be fine as they treaded across the wet tarmac on the driveway; he told himself it’d be fine when Suzie helped him up the front porch stairs; he told himself it’d be fine while they waited for the door to open, his heart going thud, thud, thud in his chest.

Then the door swung open and Joseph poked his head out, looked around, shining teal eyes landing easily on Caesar, and lit up with a toothy grin so bright he could be mistaken for the noon sun, and Caesar felt the rest of the world fly away at record speed.

“Hey,” Joseph said to Caesar and Caesar alone, smile in his voice.

In his head, Caesar was jumping into Joseph’s open arms – or maybe it was the other way around, or maybe they were jumping into each other’s open arms – and they embraced and talked and stayed best friends forever, but as it was, he simply stared transfixed at Joseph’s dazzling smile, the corners of his own mouth turning involuntarily up, up, up, until he had to duck his head to stop them from reaching his eyes.

Even though he wasn’t looking anymore, Caesar could feel his cheeks heating up, sizzling, under Joseph’s continued one-sided gazing (and the shifting, uncomfortable looks from Lisa Lisa and Suzie).

As always, his stupid mouth fired away, “Are you ever going to let us in?”

“Oh, right.” Joseph shuffled backward, bringing the door to a wide open, and waved them in. “Come on in.”

Crossing the threshold, Caesar stepped onto the familiar wooden floor of the Joestar manor. He looked around as everyone shrugged off their coats and slid off their boots, feeling like nothing was the same as he’d left them even though everything was still the same.

Joseph and Suzie chattered about a new film showing at the cinema as they trailed after Lisa Lisa on the way to the sitting room, like the breakup – and maybe even their relationship – had never happened. The relief that came with knowing he hadn’t screwed up their friendship made Caesar’s heartbeat calm down a little. (But the small glances Joseph kept throwing at him had the exact opposite effect.)

Ms Erina and Mr Speedwagon greeted them warmly once they entered the room. When Ms Erina pulled him in a hug right after Mr Speedwagon had given him an ultra-firm handshake, Caesar, for some reason, thought they greeted him a little too warmly. It reminded him of how Lisa Lisa had bought him an ice cream before thrusting him into one of the hardest conversations in his life. Sitting down on his preferred armchair and half-listening to Lisa Lisa answering questions about the drive here, Caesar hoped he was just being paranoid and not every member of the Joestar family was a schemer. It wasn’t like they had a reason to trick him here, right? They didn’t have to talk him out of a monthlong confusion loop that was bothering everyone, right?

“Wanna play?”

Caesar looked up to find Joseph holding out a handful of darts in front of him. “You want to play darts?”

Joseph nodded enthusiastically.

“You know you’ve never won against me?” Caesar asked slowly, making sure Joseph understood his words.

“Well, you never know.” Joseph shifted closer and waved the darts in Caesar’s face. “Maybe I practised.”

Caesar grabbed the darts – he could never say no to a dart game, because he was just that good at it (he never even needed to cheat to win) – and got to his feet. “I doubt that.”

“I’ll have you know I really got better.” Joseph swaggered up to the dartboard, jabbed a finger at the bullseye threateningly, and backed away to take position. “Watch this!” He raised a dart to eyelevel, aimed, and threw it with way too much force.

The dart landed on three.

Caesar bit on his tongue holding back a sarcastic comment – he was here to befriend Joseph (again), not antagonise him.

Joseph huffed. “That doesn’t count.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Whatever. Now watch this!” Joseph chucked another dart at the board.

The dart never arrived at the board, instead poking a hole on the wall beside it.

Caesar ducked his head to hide his smile.

“I wasn’t serious with that one.” Joseph raised his arm again, refusing to acknowledge Ms. Erina’s burning stare.

Caesar sighed. “You’re throwing them too hard, and you’re not aiming properly.”

“I know, I know.” Joseph threw a dart again with slightly less force than before.

A nine.

“I really got better, I swear!” said Joseph, walking up to the board. “It’s because everyone’s watching me…” He scowled around the room as he pulled his darts out. Suzie and Ms. Erina resumed their conversation; Lisa Lisa turned to look out the window; Mr. Speedwagon flipped a page on his book (and flipped right back).

Putting his right leg forward, Caesar considered where to aim for – he hadn’t played in a while, maybe he should start easy?

“What are we playing? 301? 501?” he asked as he rolled his shoulders to loosen up.

Smirking, Joseph returned to his side. “Uh… How about twelve?”

Caesar chuckled. “No way.”

Closing his left eye, he raised the dart, aimed at the centre, and threw it with slightly too much wrist movement.

Outer bullseye – he could do a lot better than that.

Joseph frowned at the board. “301 then.”

“Okay,” Caesar breathed, raising his second dart. He aimed at the centre again and threw it, hitting the inner bullseye this time.

“You’re gonna win this next turn, aren’t you?” Joseph chuckled drily, tossing a dart up and catching it with his metal hand.

Caesar took a deep breath, held it, aimed – time to up his game – and threw the last dart in a fluid movement.

T20 – sixty more points for Caesar.

Mr. Speedwagon whistled and, when Joseph shot him an indignant glare, cleared his throat and returned to his book.

Caesar turned to Joseph as an uncontrollable smirk took over his face. “Depends on how many turns you want to play.”

“Tch. Show-off.” Joseph rolled his eyes but moved to get Caesar’s darts anyway.

(Joseph was right. Caesar was so busy showing off that he was now stuck with a score that couldn’t be cleared in the next turn, if his mental math was correct.)

It was strange how easy everything still was, after all that had happened.

Joseph returned and dropped the darts in Caesar’s waiting palm – their hands didn’t touch.

Stepping back to give Joseph space, Caesar asked himself if he was disappointed by that.

The first dart landed on nineteen; Joseph raised an eyebrow at Caesar, who shrugged.

The second dart landed outside the circle; Joseph grimaced and started doing some stretches, mumbling something about not being ‘in the zone’; Caesar stared at the curves of his rippling muscles with maybe a little too much interest.

The third dart landed on five; Joseph went to the board with a pout; Caesar tried not to stare at his lips.

Balancing a dart on the tip of his finger, Caesar reminded himself he was supposed to be Joseph’s friend, not…partner in sex.

Swapping his darts from hand to hand like he was nervous, Joseph returned, hovered near Caesar, and said in his low voice, “How are you? Suzie said you were sick?”

Caesar got into his throwing stance. “I’m fine. It was just a cold. You?”

Joseph shrugged. “I’ve been okay.”

If it’d been anyone else, they probably would’ve believed Joseph – he looked surprisingly presentable, in his unstained and unripped t-shirt and trousers of a normal tightness – but to Caesar, there was a noticeable droop in his hair spikes that signalled something else.

Instead of commenting, Caesar threw his dart.

Bullseye.

“You were right, by the way,” Joseph said.

Caesar raised his second dart and aimed. “About what?”

“Uncle Speedwagon asked around for me, and I really can’t be a pilot.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m thinking of pivoting to real estate.”

Caesar barked a laugh and quickly covered his mouth. “You’re going to sell people houses?”

“What? I can be pretty convincing.” Joseph put both his hands on his hips and puffed his chest a little, as though that made him more convincing.

“No, it’s just…” Shaking his head, Caesar stifled his chuckles – he couldn’t imagine Joseph walking around in a suit and talking like a proper businessman. “Are you sure?”

“Well, there’s good money in it, and I like talking to people. And I can always pivot to something else if I don’t like it.”

There was that serious spark in Joseph’s eyes again, and it sounded like he’d thought this through (as much as Joseph Joestar was capable of thinking something through).

Joseph really was ready to move on.

Caesar didn’t know how he felt about that, so he threw his dart.

Bullseye.

“You still planning to go to school?”

“Yeah. I asked around, and no one wanted to hire me because of those.” Raising his last dart, Caesar gestured at his crutches over by the armchair. “I might have a better chance with a degree.”

Scowling at the crutches, Joseph pressed his soft, distracting lips into a thin, downward-turning curve. “I thought you were getting better.”

“It’s just the weather.”

Joseph raised his flesh hand and gestured vaguely at Caesar’s back. “Do you want me to…”

Caesar threw his last dart.

Yes. Bullseye.

“No,” Caesar said, not sparing a look at Joseph.

“Okay.” Joseph dropped his hand promptly and just stood there staring at Caesar for a while – as though searching for something – until he turned away and strode to the board.

They continued the game for a while, talking here and there about whatever that came to mind. (And their hands never touching.) Almost like how they had used to chat during their games. At some point Ms. Erina and Suzie had migrated to the kitchen, and Mr. Speedwagon and Lisa Lisa had disappeared to talk business.

Shortly after the third time Caesar intentionally busted his score, Joseph threw his hands up and said, “You win. I give up.”

“Are you sure? You’re only missing about fifty points.”

Rolling his eyes, Joseph dumped his darts on the table and flopped down on the sofa. “This game is just not for me.”

Caesar gathered up the darts and put them back in their box. “Like I said, you shouldn’t throw the dart like it’s a baseball, use only your elbow and don’t put that much force in it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, control and finesse, I know. That’s more your thing though. I just like throwing baseballs better.” Bending his knees, Joseph pulled a pack of bubble gum out of his trouser pocket and popped one into his mouth.

Caesar shuffled up to the sofa and sat down at Joseph’s feet, shaking his head at the offered gum. “You did get better; most of your throws went on the board.”

Joseph raised his head and flashed Caesar a proud grin that made Caesar feel all soft and fuzzy inside. “Told you I practised.”

Caesar smiled back, heart speeding up again at the implication of Joseph practising his favourite game unprompted.

Dropping his head back down, Joseph blew a bubble that grew almost to the size of his own face.

Leaning back on the sofa, Caesar could feel something growing in his heart, something he’d tried to kill with distance, something that had sprouted again once Joseph was close, something that kept whispering in his head telling him to get closer and closer and closer until it could bloom as it should.

Caesar didn’t know how he felt about it.

But he wasn’t going to let it mess up his second chance at being Joseph’s friend.

So he leaned back and pretended it wasn’t there and pretended he didn’t feel a magnetic pull toward Joseph’s body.

The bubble popped, and Joseph licked the gum sticking to his face back into his mouth, his head bent at an awkward angle that let him see out the window.

“Hey,” he said in the quietest voice Caesar had ever heard from him, “Will you take a walk with me?”

Grinning, Joseph produced an icicle out of nowhere and presented it to Caesar like it was a treasure he’d just dug out of the earth.

Caesar scanned their surroundings. They’d been sitting on a bench in Ms. Erina’s garden – of course, it was just lingering snow and leafless trees right now – and even though everything was still white and shiny, he saw no ice anywhere he looked. (And, of course, Joseph was still only wearing a t-shirt, and Caesar’s eyes liked his muscles a little too much.)

Joseph, eyes sparkling, waved the icicle at him again, motioning for him to take it.

Weighing up his options of freezing his hands or disappointing Joseph, Caesar took the icicle and felt his fingers burn in the wet cold. Turning the icicle in his hand, he briefly wondered why he had agreed to take a walk with Joseph in near-zero temperature with no gloves on, but that was a stupid question, because where else were they going to get any privacy with everyone glancing at them from the corners of their eyes every two seconds back in the house? The translucent cone of ice shone under the sun, specks of rainbow shimmering here and there within it.

Joseph blinked at Caesar impatiently, waiting for a comment.

For some reason, Caesar thought if he were to throw the icicle away, Joseph would run after it and fetch it back with delight.

“Where did you get this?” he finally said. (He wouldn’t be surprised if Joseph had pulled this out of his pockets – Joseph always kept weird things in his pockets.)

Joseph, chewing his gum open-mouthed and looking very proud of himself, pointed a finger downward. “Under the bench. There’s more.”

“Nice.” Nodding, Caesar (very much not distracted by the lip-smacking or the wet noises) extended the icicle back to Joseph, and out of some childish lack of judgement, he charged the half-melting surface with ripple, just like he had done back on the edge of the cliff in Switzerland.

Joseph touched the icicle without hesitation and promptly pulled his hand back with a yelp. “Caesar!” he whined, “What was that for?”

Caesar chuckled – he probably shouldn’t have done that, but he had to release some of this strange nervous energy coursing through his body. “Nothing. Just wanted to zap you.”

Joseph gasped dramatically. “You wanted to zap little old me? But that’s such a mean prank!”

“I learned from the best.” Caesar held out the icicle again because his fingers were going numb. “Here. I’m not zapping you this time.”

Joseph hesitated for a second, looking back and forth between Caesar and the icicle, then snatched it away with his metal hand.

Caesar wiped his hands on his coat and pocketed them for warmth.

While his metal hand tossed the cone in the air and caught it repeatedly, Joseph’s flesh hand rested limply on the bench between them.

Caesar’s numb fingers itched to reach for its warmth but stayed still anyway.

Freshly melted water went drip, drip, drip from the tree branches into a small puddle by the bench.

Removing his hand from the bench, Joseph shook his legs and started breaking the icicle into small pieces and throwing them away like he was feeding them to some imaginary ice-eating ducks, gears turning so fast in his head Caesar could see the smoke coming out of his ears.

This appeared to be the right moment to start his apology.

Caesar opened his mouth, but Joseph was faster.

“I’m sorry about last time,” Joseph said, “What I did was out of line. I shouldn’t have pushed when you were uncomfortable, and I shouldn’t have forced you into doing something you didn’t want to do. I was mean and presumptuous, and I shouldn’t have said those things about you. I’m sorry.”

“No, I should be the one to apologise,” Caesar rushed to add, because he was supposed to talk first, damn it! “I…I hit you again, and I said harsh things too, and…I did…that.”

Joseph shrugged, not looking at Caesar or pausing in his icicle destruction. “Yeah, but you only did all that because I pushed you and stressed you out in the first place.”

Cringing at how awkward his own words had been, Caesar tried again, “I know I promised, but I ran away again. I’m sorry. I…didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s okay.” Joseph tossed the last piece of ice half-heartedly at a tree across from the bench. “It’s just that I’ve missed you a lot. Like, I’ve been thinking about you every day. I don’t know if you know, but I went to see you a couple times – it’s just that every time Coach kicked me out before I could find you. And everyone kept telling me to leave you alone – Smokey even called me dumb for going up to Coach’s place – but I just really wanted to see you. It’s been so hard… I didn’t know I could miss anyone this much, you know.”

As Joseph rambled on, an icy hollow settled in the pit of Caesar’s stomach, and alarms shrieked in his head. He knew where Joseph was going with this; he had seen it play out so many times before as the other player in this act. First the apology, then Joseph talked about how he felt, then he made demands, and then Caesar said yes to him. Why was this happening again? Didn’t Caesar have a plan to prevent this exact scenario? Why was he still so powerless to stop it? (But did it make him happy to know that he had been on Joseph’s mind the same way Joseph had been on his? Was he supposed to be happy about that?)

Caesar’s heart went thump, thump, thump, out of rhythm, and water went drip, drip, drip into the puddle, and everything was so white and bright and stung Caesar’s eyes, and Joseph said, “Caesar, what are we now?”

Huh?

Why was he asking Caesar? Was he expecting Caesar to guess what he wanted to say? Was he going to throw a fit if Caesar guessed wrong? (Of course he was.)

Caesar let out a resigned sigh – he didn’t know how to salvage this – and prepared himself for heartbreak. “What do you want us to be?”

“I asked you first,” Joseph insisted as though he really wanted to hear what Caesar thought.

Strange.

But fine. If Joseph was going to ask, then Caesar was going to take his chance to give his real answer.

Taking a deep breath, Caesar said, “I just want everything to go back to normal.”

Joseph stilled beside Caesar.

Clenching his fists in his pockets, Caesar screwed his eyes shut waiting for the inevitable fallout – the anger, the tantrum, the kicking and screaming and grabbing and demanding that he did what Joseph wanted.

After an eternity of nothing but Caesar’s increasingly frantic heartbeat and the irritating noise of water dripping, Joseph sighed. “I don’t know if I can do that anymore.”

Caesar snapped his eyes open. What was that supposed to mean? Where was the storm of emotions that Joseph was supposed to be hurling at him right now? “You mean…you don’t want to be friends anymore?”

“I mean I wanna be friends,” Joseph said slowly, like he wasn’t sure what he was saying either, “But I just don’t know if I can go back to how we were before.”

Joseph wanted them to be friends but not friends? There were only two options, they were either friends or not. What was this secret third option Joseph had conjured up? Why could he never just go by Caesar’s script and why was he making Caesar’s life so difficult?

If Joseph didn’t want Caesar to be his friend, then what was Caesar supposed to be? Caesar didn’t know how to be a friend-but-not-friend – he barely knew how to be a friend!

Caesar felt like his head was spinning and he could throw up any second, even though he didn’t understand what Joseph had meant, didn’t know what it meant for their friendship, didn’t even know if he should feel sad or not. It was just that everything was spinning out of control and nothing was going the way it should.

He really, really wanted a hug.

“Why not?” he managed to ask.

Joseph shifted around, pulled another icicle out, and settled again. “Can you?”

Why couldn’t they go back to normal? What was so hard about that?

“Normal” was joking around, was competing over stupid things, was talking about nothing and everything, was holding hands, was sleeping in the same bed, was hugs and kisses, was…not normal at all.

Right.

When had Caesar forgotten how weird they had always been together? It had bothered him for so long that they always had had to act differently in front of people. Because anyone watching them interact would just assume they were…a couple.

Caesar snapped his head at Joseph as though Joseph would have an answer as to what it all meant.

The second he met Joseph’s beautiful ocean-green eyes though, he thought about how he wanted to drown in those eyes, how he wanted to wake up every morning to those eyes, how he wanted those eyes to look at him and see him and hold him like he was precious.

He wanted to hold onto Joseph’s hand and never let go, and he wanted Joseph to want to hold his hand too, and he…

He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Joseph.

Not just as a friend, not just as family, not just as a (potential) sexual partner, no.

He wanted all of that and more; he wanted to be something even more special; he wanted to be…

Oh.

Shit.

With a sharp intake of cold air through his nose, Caesar Anthonio Zeppeli realised his feelings toward his best friend may have been a little deeper than a crush – may have always been deeper than a crush.

He had deep non-platonic feelings.

For his best friend.

Who was playing with another icicle he’d just plucked from under the bench for no reason other than he’d wanted to. Who was humming a tuneless little tune and bouncing both his legs to its rhythm like bouncing only one leg wasn’t enough for him. Who was the biggest idiot and arsehole to ever walk the Earth but also the best thing that had ever happened to it.

Hell no.

Caesar broke eye contact, because suddenly he couldn’t breathe.

What was he supposed to do? What was this? Love? What the fuck even was love? Could he wait this one out too?

No way… Was this why he hadn’t been able to wait it out?

Breathing deeply through his nose as he had trained himself to, Caesar leaned forward and supported his spinning head with both hands.

No, it couldn’t be happening. He must have been mistaken.

Yes, he was just trying out some labels for his feelings, and he must have picked the wrong one because there was no way he’d been in love with Joseph Joestar, an absolute idiot, for so long, right? Because he would’ve realised much sooner, right?

Right?

Not right. It had taken him months of staring at Joseph’s pecs to realise he’d been part homosexual all along – he really was that slow when it came to figuring out his own feelings.

Just why did it have to be Joseph of all people? Had he no taste?

This had never happened to Caesar before, why was it happening now?

Hands shaking, Caesar closed his eyes and tried to get his tight, tight chest to expand again.

No, it simply could not be happening. He didn’t have much experience in it, but he was certain to be in love with someone meant having butterflies in his heart, and he’d never felt—huh? Sometimes when Joseph looked his way, he got this bubbly feeling… Bubbles were not the same as butterflies. Skipping over physical attraction because that part wasn’t special at all and happened all the time when people got too close (and not because he didn’t want his mind to wander to unfortunate places), being in love meant wanting to spend time together, wanting to stay close, feeling comfortable and safe… That was a bunch of nonsense that friends and family did all the time; it didn’t mean he was in love with Joseph at all. Love meant romance, right? And Caesar knew romance! And Caesar knew Joseph was shit at romance because all Joseph said to Caesar were shit like “your birthmarks are cute” and “you’re special” and “I love you” and… What the fuck? No, that just meant Joseph was weird. When people get into a relationship, they get jealous, right? And when Joseph and Suzie had been dating, Caesar had been…jealous of Suzie the entire time? No. No, no, no…

Of course it had to be Joseph. It only could’ve been Joseph. No one else would’ve been able to disable all Caesar’s defenses and worm their way into his heart.

Joseph Joestar the little shit had wormed his way into Caesar’s heart and tricked Caesar into falling in love with him when they were supposed to be just friends.

Caesar had fallen in love with Joseph when he was supposed to be a good friend, was supposed to look after Joseph, was supposed to not lead Joseph astray and straight onto the path to Hell.

They were both going to go to Hell, weren’t they? Well, at least they’d be burning together, right?

(And in the back of his head, he had always known, hadn’t he? He’d just turned a blind eye on this feeling for so long that he’d started to believe it really wasn’t there.)

Fuck. No.

Caesar felt his thoughts melting in the heat of the hellfire and dissolving into the ice-water puddle by his feet.

“Cae? Are you okay?”

It took Caesar a few seconds to realise he was being talked to, a few more for him to understand the question, and a few more on top of that to decide he didn’t want to answer that question.

“What’s wrong?”

Caesar felt his head shake weakly.

“You don’t know?”

Caesar knew he was going mad, but he refused to (and couldn’t) admit that to Joseph now.

“What…what should I do?” Joseph’s hand flew toward Caesar, halted millimetres away from contact as though hitting an invisible wall, then retracted. “Should I… Do you want… I…I don’t know what to do.”

Unable to get his mouth working, Caesar didn’t know what to do either – he could barely think – but he didn’t like the distress in Joseph’s voice.

Had he upset Joseph again? He didn’t mean to do that; he was just trying to breathe…

“Talk to me, Caesar,” Joseph begged in a wobbly voice.

Right, he was making JoJo cry again. Not a good thing. But he was also a little too far away to feel too bad about it. Joseph was always crying anyways. Always throwing a tantrum and moving in for a hug and making him drop everything he was doing. Sometimes he was just not in the mood to deal with Joseph’s mood swings, especially now, when he was in the middle of his own disastrous floaty mental state. Why could Joseph never calm down by himself?

On the bench, Joseph was still talking at him, but Caesar couldn’t hear anything but muffled static.

Maybe sometimes he wanted Joseph to take care of his feelings too.

Of course, Joseph did take care of him, playing nurse when he felt ill and cheering him up when he got moody, but Joseph’s solution to him getting overwhelmed had always been squeezing him in his arms until the bad feelings popped. Not that it didn’t work on him – it worked a little too well on him. It was just that… How was it fair that Caesar always had to do actual work to calm Joseph down when Joseph could just grab him and be done with it? Sometimes he didn’t want to be grabbed, sometimes he wanted to have some space to breathe first before being grabbed, sometimes he wanted the grabbing to be looser and less like a death-grip…

Caesar wasn’t sure if his eardrums had finally burst from Joseph’s constant high-volume rambling or if Joseph had finally stopped talking for once, but he couldn’t hear anything now, not even static. He felt his head turn until his gaze landed on Joseph’s restless shaking legs again.

“Caesar?” Joseph’s voice boomed in Caesar’s ears.

Oh, great, so Caesar hadn’t gone deaf.

Joseph’s hand flew near again. “Can I… Is it okay if I touched you? Do you want a hug, maybe?”

Distantly, Caesar noted the irony that the first time Joseph had ever asked for permission – instead of just grabbing him and manhandling him into whichever position Joseph preferred – was when he couldn’t readily reply.

Eventually though, he felt himself nod because yes, he’d wanted a hug since that night and he was going to throw a tantrum himself if he left the estate without getting one.

Almost immediately, Joseph had both hands on Caesar’s back and was pulling him in.

And at first, the warmth and pressure were good, were bringing Caesar back to Earth, but the more he returned to his body, the tighter the hold felt, and the less he could breathe.

He somehow managed to wedge an arm between their bodies. “Too tight.”

Joseph loosened his grip and shifted his torso back to make some room. “Sorry.”

Caesar rested his forehead on Joseph’s chest and sighed contentedly at the increased airflow, tension draining away from his body.

For a while they just stayed this way, Caesar breathing in and out as he did for ripple practice and Joseph patting his back and rocking gently back and forth and not talking for once in his life.

Eventually, Caesar, feeling an urge to explain himself, raised his head to look at Joseph. “I, uh, got a little stressed out.” (There was no way he was telling Joseph what realisation he’d just had.)

Joseph raised an eyebrow at him. “A little stressed out? You froze for like twenty minutes…”

Caesar didn’t like how Joseph’s voice still wobbled at the end. “Sorry. I guess I just…missed you more than I thought I did.”

“Oh.” Joseph blinked, processing this information, then smiled. “Well, here I am, not going anywhere, so you can get as much of this as you want now.” Removing a hand from Caesar, he gestured vaguely at himself as though that was supposed to have meant something.

“Wow.” Caesar dropped his head back on Joseph’s chest, not wanting to let Joseph see his own smile. “Let’s head back, I think I’ve had enough of you for now.”

Neither of them let go.

Joseph pressed his face into Caesar’s hair and sniffed, because he was probably getting bored and because he just was a bit of a creep. “You used your fancy soap.”

“What?”

“You only use your fancy soap for special occasions,” Joseph stated, as though it was a normal thing to know and say.

Caesar sniffed at Joseph’s shirt – because they were being equally creepy with each other now – and smelled sunshine. Literally. The shirt smelled like soap and baked-in sunshine, with only a faint whiff of Joseph’s natural musk (Eww? And why did Caesar know what Joseph smelled like?).

Clearing his throat, Caesar said, as though it was a normal thing to know and say, “And you’re wearing a fresh shirt; you don’t bother with that even for special occasions.”

“Yeah. Because you’re more special than any special occasion,” Joseph said, smile in his voice, shooting a million heart-shaped arrows straight through Caesar’s heart.

Stupid Joseph always coming out so bluntly with sweet things like this. Half of the times he probably didn’t even know the things coming out of his big stupid mouth were romantic as fuck. What was worse was that the raw honesty in his words always appealed to Caesar more than any sugar-coated half-lies from his flings (or even the ones from himself to his flings). This was beyond counterproductive to Caesar’s plan to ignore the lovey-dovey feelings – it was making him fall even harder.

“Okay, that’s enough of you for today.” Pulling away before chemicals could reinforce his crossed wires, Caesar stood up and shoved his arms through the cuffs of his crutches.

“Okay.” Joseph stood up, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Are you sure you’re okay though?”

“Yeah. That was…nothing. It just happens sometimes. When there’s…too much in the jar,” Caesar said awkwardly, walking away on the little garden path to hide his face.

With yet another icicle in hand, Joseph caught up with him. “I thought you were getting a bigger jar.”

“Didn’t work. I might try your thing now.”

“Cool. So, uh, if that ever happens again, what do I do?”

Caesar didn’t know what he felt about the implications of that question. “I don’t know. Same thing you did this time?”

“Okay.” Joseph dropped his icicle and stopped in his tracks. “Oh.”

Turning to him, Caesar stopped too. “What?”

“Caesar! I swallowed my gum!” Joseph yelled, “What do I do? Is it gonna glue up my stomach? Am I gonna die? Oh my god!” He pawed at his throat and patted his chest, trying to dislodge the gum that wasn’t stuck there.

Caesar rolled his eyes at his idiot friend. “Mamma mia. You’ll be fine, JoJo, the gum will pass through your digestive tract like anything else.”

“Seriously?”

“Don’t you think they’d stop selling it if swallowing a piece could kill you?”

“Oh, yeah, they’d get sued so hard.” Joseph beamed too brightly at Caesar. “You’re so smart, Caesarino!”

Caesar rolled his eyes again and started walking before Joseph could catch his too fond smile.

After their return to the house, Joseph had yawned, called out ‘nap time’, and disappeared into Caesar’s old room for some reason. (Was he living in Caesar’s room now? What the fuck?)

Whatever. Caesar had more important things to think about.

Because there was no way he was in love with Joseph, right?

There was still no reason to believe he wasn’t simply experiencing a stronger-than-usual man-crush. He’d only ever gotten the you’re-so-pretty-so-let’s-get-handsy type of crushes anyway, so it was highly probable the more romantic crushes just felt this way, and there was still a way to salvage his friendship with Joseph.

Obviously, the exaggerated romance novels he’d (secretly) read were not trustworthy sources, and he needed some input from normal people.

Which was how he found himself outside the kitchen door with Suzie wiping her hands on the apron and frowning at him.

“Could you repeat that, Cae?” she said.

Caesar glanced around, seeing no one (hopefully Ms. Erina wasn’t listening behind the door), then leaned in and whispered his second stupid question of today again, “How did you know you were in love?”

She shrugged and continued in a way-too-loud voice, “I guess I just realised that he always made me so happy and that I wanted to stay with him despite all his little flaws.”

Little flaws? Try glaring personality problems.

And Caesar distinctly recalled frustration being the most prominent emotion Joseph elicited in him and wanting to run away from Joseph’s annoying antics on a weekly basis.

So was he not in love then? Was this all just a man-crush after all? Did he just get attached to a hot idiot and was stupid enough to think he was in love and freak out about it?

Or did he just…not want to be in love?

Because this feeling was too new and intense and he didn’t know what to do and he was afraid?

Bullshit.

Caesar Zeppeli wasn’t afraid of anything, especially some stupid fucking feelings; Caesar Zeppeli was an outlaw, bad boy, cool guy, not some lame coward who’d get scared by some stupid fucking feelings toward his best friend; Caesar Zeppeli was just a little confused because he didn’t know he could feel this type of feelings toward his best friend, and now that he knew he could, he wasn’t confused anymore and definitely was not afraid.

Wait, he could feel what toward Joseph now?

Suzie narrowed her eyes at him – a look that was equal parts concern and are-you-more-stupid-than-I-thought. “Are you okay?”

Caesar nodded despite the cold sweat pooling on his back. “Yes.”

“Okay… That’s just how I felt though. It’s probably different for everyone,” Suzie said gently.

And of course, when Caesar was in love, he got bubbly feelings and cared too much and loosened up and said mean things and showed off and got grabby and wanted to stay close despite his natural tendency to run away.

Shit.

He swallowed thickly. “I know.”

Suzie nodded understandingly and tilted her head slightly to the side, the way Joseph did when he had questions. “Is this…about JoJo?”

Caesar thought his eyes must’ve briefly popped out of their sockets.

“What? No way. Who are you even talking about?” he said (maybe in English, maybe in Italian, maybe in both), slowly backing away from her and chuckling way too loudly.

“Okay?” Suzie watched him stumble around and make a fool of himself with that knowing mischievous smirk.

With dread prickling at the back of his neck, Caesar realised that everyone knew.

He spun around and ran down the corridor (or walked as quickly as his legs let him, he wasn’t sure).

It was snowing again, and Caesar couldn’t taste anything at dinner.

Joseph had been playing with his food and stealing glances at Caesar throughout the meal, until he had stood up, mumbled something about wanting to check his comic books, left, and, presumably, forgotten to come back.

Lisa Lisa had given Caesar a Nod of Encouragement when he’d accidently caught her eyes from across the table. (She’d also told him ‘Just tell him how you feel’ when he’d walked up to her before dinner, opening and closing his mouth and wringing his hands.)

Suzie had cut him an extra-large slice of cake and winked at him.

Ms Erina had smiled at him and squeezed his hand when he’d excused himself from the table.

Mr Speedwagon had given him an ultra-hard pat on the back when he’d walked by.

And everyone had known before he’d known himself, and everyone was…fine with it?

So now here he was, standing outside Joseph’s (Caesar’s?) room, not going in.

Joseph was planning to move on; Joseph didn’t need him.

What could Caesar do for Joseph that no one else could?

Nothing.

Ms Erina took care of him; Mr Speedwagon supported him; Lisa Lisa looked out for him; Smokey and Suzie were his friends.

There was no place for Caesar.

There was no reason for Joseph to look at Caesar and think ‘I want him to stay’.

What were they now? Friends? But not really. They weren’t just friends; they weren’t really family; they weren’t a couple; they weren’t…anything.

They were just…Caesar and JoJo, who fought all the time and held hands all the time, and there was really nothing keeping them together, but they always drifted toward each other regardless.

For Caesar, he could say he felt a sense of loyalty toward Joseph, because Joseph had saved his life, but for Joseph?

He had a crush on Caesar and sometimes liked Caesar as a friend?

What had he meant he wasn’t going anywhere? Why had he chosen to stay with Caesar time after time, even when Caesar was being utterly useless or incomprehensibly weird? What had he meant he loved Caesar?

Could it be that he loved Caesar? Not Caesar the ripple warrior, not Caesar the friend, not Caesar the walking hug pillow that he could squeeze as much as he liked. Just Caesar.

But…it didn’t make sense.

It wasn’t like with Lisa Lisa and Suzie – Joseph had known Caesar only a year, and Caesar hadn’t been on his best behaviour for most of that time…

How could anyone come to love him for him in such a short time frame?

Caesar didn’t understand.

But he did know what he wanted to be to Joseph, and he wanted it even if he was going to burn for an eternity for it, and if he backed out now, he couldn’t be anything to Joseph.

He knocked the door, despite the room being (formerly?) his.

“Yeah?” Joseph’s voice called.

Caesar took that as permission to go in.

Joseph sprawled starfish-style on his (Caesar’s) bed, his state-of-the-art prothesis discarded among a pile of dirty clothes (and trash) on the floor. Even though Caesar had seen him like this a thousand times before, this time he seemed especially vulnerable in an all-defenses-lowered way. He observed but said nothing as Caesar closed the door and shuffled toward him.

Caesar stopped by the head of the bed to lean his crutches on the wall.

Joseph turned to look at the ceiling. “I know, I know. I’ll clean it up soon.”

“You always say that but never do, and then you complain when I clean it up for you.”

Gathering the comics (and trash?) littering the bed and dropping them unceremoniously on the floor, Joseph shifted on the bed to clear a spot for Caesar. “I don’t know what the point is when it’ll get messy again anyways.”

Sighing, Caesar sat down with his back to Joseph. “Have you tried not making a mess?”

“Yes, and it didn’t work. I couldn’t find anything and kept forgetting things, and it was stupidly frustrating, so I gave up pretty quickly—I just need all my things where I can see, man.”

“Do the dirty clothes have to go on the floor though?”

“Who said those are dirty?”

Caesar turned and raised an eyebrow at Joseph, who replied with a challenging smirk.

“What’s in that then? Skeletons?” Caesar asked, pointing at the wooden wardrobe not two steps away from him.

“I don’t know what you put in your closet, mate. I’m just saying, what’s the point of putting everything in there when I’m just going to take them out again so soon?”

“It’s dirty on the floor. You should at least put your prosthetic somewhere safer; you might step on it and break it someday.”

Frowning again, Joseph averted his gaze. “I have a system, Caesar. The hand is there so I remember to change my clothes.”

Humming, Caesar turned away. He knew why the hand was on the floor (which had never stopped Joseph from walking out in pyjamas or putting on days-old clothes) – they’d had this conversation before, and they both knew it.

Cold, thick silence permeated the room.

But neither was willing to move on to the other conversation waiting, suspended, in the air between them like a delicate spiderweb waiting for either its victims or its destruction.

Caesar ran a hand through his hair and sighed – there was no point dragging this out any further. “Do you remember what you said?” he asked, tearing the spiderweb to pieces.

“Yes,” came Joseph’s immediate reply.

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure?”

“I’ve told you time and time again that I am.”

“But how do you know?”

“I just do. I wasn’t just saying it because I was upset over Suzie. I think I’ve loved you before I’ve come to love her. It just took me until the breakup to really realise that.”

“Even now, after…what I did?”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want. Except for, you know, how it ended. But you came back, so we’re good.”

“Even if I’m just…dead weight?”

Sheets rustled, and Joseph’s warm hand covered Caesar’s.

Out of reflex, Caesar yanked his hand away.

Shit. He didn’t mean to do that.

Tentatively, he slid his hand back along the sheet, found Joseph’s hand again and held it in a loose grip.

After a beat where Caesar felt more tension in his body than he’d ever felt, Joseph sighed. “You’re not dead weight.”

Caesar sighed. “I haven’t been a good friend, have I?”

“Well, I don’t know how high your standards are, and don’t tell Smokey about this, but you’re my best friend.”

“But I’m so bad at this…and I keep hurting you.”

“So what? You’re not perfect, I’m not perfect either. I’ve hurt you, too. Hell, I almost got you killed.”

“That wasn’t your fault. I should’ve listened to you.”

“If it wasn’t my fault, then it wasn’t yours either. Look, if we really need to blame someone, it’d be Kars.”

Everything was Kars’ fault. Caesar liked that – it had a nice ring to it. But it didn’t solve any of his problems.

“I can’t find a job; I can’t even walk.”

“I don’t care. It’s a miracle you’re even alive. If it was what you needed, I would’ve been happy to wheel you around and feed you soup for the rest of my life. Now I just worry you’ll go mad if we don’t find you like a job or something to do.”

“What if I already am mad?”

“What, you mean the thing in the garden earlier? Weren’t you stressed out? Everyone acts at least a little mad when they’re stressed out, I think.”

“Sometimes it feels like I might never come back.”

“So what you’re a crazy weirdo? I’m a crazy weirdo, too. You’re not getting rid of me by just being weird, Caesar, you should know this already.”

And Caesar did know that.

Joseph rubbed circles on his hand. “I can’t promise you forever, but it’s what I feel right now and have felt for a while. You don’t have to say it back. You don’t have to feel the same. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. I just thought, since we’re having this conversation, you should know. I love you. So I really don’t know if I can go back to being just friends with you.”

The words had flowed out of Joseph’s mouth with the ease of a rivulet flowing downstream. Like it was all so simple and obvious. Like it was a plain, blatant, natural fact, just how everything was meant to be.

Caesar considered the words and believed them. There was no reason not to. He trusted Joseph with his life after all, why shouldn’t he believe Joseph’s words?

So, yes, Joseph loved Caesar, loved him despite all his glaring personality problems and his annoying weirdness, loved him for him, not for being a good friend or his best friend, and it was a plain, blatant, natural fact, just how everything was meant to be.

“Okay,” Caesar said.

“Okay then,” Joseph said.

And Caesar knew from the tiny quaver in Joseph’s voice that Joseph was feeling as nervous as he was.

And so what, if Joseph couldn’t promise him forever? No one would ever be able to do that; anyone making that promise would be lying.

All that mattered was the now anyways, and Caesar knew what he wanted right here, right now.

Caesar still didn’t know what he was supposed to be, but if he could choose, he wanted to be loyal, like his grandfather, and brave, like Joseph. He wanted to be someone who cared with all his heart, who loved without fear, despite fear, and despite everything else, like the boy that he had been in his fearless, happy youth.

“Joseph,” he said, and sheer white panic exploded in the pit of his stomach, spreading slowly toward his limbs.

“Hmm?”

“You…” Caesar tried and immediately had to stop for seemingly no reason at all. But some things are too important to be left unsaid, so he opened his mouth again, “I…” He sighed instead of finishing the sentence he had barely begun.

Then he felt his hand being gently squeezed by Joseph, the man who loved him and whom he loved.

Right.

Joseph loved him, and he loved Joseph.

It was that simple.

There was nothing for him to worry about.

It was time for him to stop running away.

He let out a long exhale and began again, “You…you make me feel safe. At home. Like I can finally relax.” His hands were shaking so much. “You make me happy. I like being with you.” He wiped his palm on his trousers and clutched at his shirt in front of his heart as though that could stop it from exploding. “You inspire me and make me want to be a better person. I think that…” He felt lightheaded, like his entire person was floating away, and the words he wanted to say – the words he had to say – wouldn’t come out. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. “I…I think… Penso che…” He thought he was going to spontaneously combust before he could get the three simple words off his chest. “Have you already guessed what I’m trying to say?” he asked helplessly.

Joseph, in a small, uncertain, but gentle voice, said, “I don’t know, Cae.”

This was the one time Caesar wanted Joseph to do the trick, and Joseph had refused. But they both knew it was something Caesar had to do himself.

Turning around, Caesar faced the man who had consumed all his waking thoughts for the past weeks, who had caused him so much confusion and pain and joy.

Joseph gave him a shy, small smile that really said “it’s alright”, like it didn’t matter what he was about to say because Joseph was always going to stay.

Caesar blinked.

He saw the kid full of nothing but parlour tricks, confidence, and determination, who had laughed at him in a flock of pigeons; he saw the prodigy who had been pinned under him on the island’s training ground, complaining and looking for an easy way out but never backing down; he saw the warrior charging through ice and snow, who had fought for the world and won; he saw the teenager who had been through too much, who had clung to him and refused to let go while they licked each other’s wounds like two lost animals; he saw the young man who had reached for his hand, taken it, and said, ‘I love you’ again and again, sunshine and snow falling between them. All these images, overlapping and blending, coalesced into the same, unique person in front of him.

He blinked again and saw the familiar twinkle that perpetually shone in Joseph’s eyes and knew he’d just found the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

Something bloomed in his heart, spreading out and taking root, growing tall like a tree, breaking out all the love he had buried deep, and the white cold panic lifted away, rising up with the unbound love like bubbles floating into the air and exploding in colourful lights and shining confetti to the quick, giddy beat of his pulse in his ears like drums urging him to bravely charge onward and not look back.

“I’m in love with you,” he blurted out the words that he had feared for so long and waited for a lightning to strike him down.

Outside, snow drifted down like feathers in the wind, landing onto the soft, white world without making a sound.

There were no lightnings.

Joseph stared, round-eyed and slack-jawed.

“JoJo, I love you,” Caesar said it again, louder and with more confidence this time.

Joseph swallowed, a faint blush colouring his cheeks.

“Joseph Joestar, I love you,” Caesar repeated boldly and clearly, meeting Joseph’s eyes and holding his hand in a firm grasp, because there was nothing stopping him, and if he were standing on the top of a mountain, he would shout out his confession for the entire world to hear.

Joseph, grinning from ear to ear, scrambled up and pulled him into the tightest hug he had ever felt.

Shocked by the sudden impact of an enveloping warmth and still reeling from the euphoria that came with the relief that his love didn’t kill him, Caesar let out a chuckle and returned the embrace. Inside his chest, his own wild heartbeat was cheering him on; outside his chest, he could feel the strong beating of Joseph’s heart, almost as loud and as fast as his own. Then, their heartbeats overlapping and syncing, the resonance ringing deep within his soul, he realised he already had what he had been chasing after and running away from his whole life.

His home was right there, in his arms.

Caesar squeezed their bodies together with all the force he could muster, until they were pressed flush together and all he could feel was the warmth and pressure of Joseph on his skin, then he whispered into Joseph’s ear, “Ti amo.”

“I know. I love you, too,” Joseph said, pressing a kiss on his cheek.

Caesar giggled almost hysterically as a warm fuzzy feeling filled and lit up his body – there were no switches being flipped off this time. He wriggled his arms into the space between them, cupped Joseph’s cheeks, and started peppering Joseph’s face with kisses, the same three words pouring out of his mouth again and again, and he felt like a child who had just learned the meaning of those words and was determined to repeat them until the weight of the uttered words impossibly matched the weight of the feeling in his heart, until the listener impossibly felt the same intensity glowing and burning at his core.

And Joseph, smiling softly through it all, repeated again and again, “I know, I know,” as though he really knew, as though he had seen and felt the loud brightness deep inside Caesar and understood.

Eventually, the all-consuming giddiness mellowed into a warm, low buzz, and Caesar just held Joseph’s face in his hands and looked. He wanted to remember everything about it, to engrave this moment into his brain so he would never forget. His eyes traced over the hard jawlines and strong nose, brushed over wild hair and thick brows, touched the little freckles and plush lips, and lingered on the blue, green, ocean eyes. And he stared and thought, how could anyone be this beautiful? How lucky was he that someone this beautiful loved him back?

Joseph, of course, could not stay nice and quiet for long. His hand reached up and brushed Caesar’s bangs away, then with a smile that was half coy and half playful, he batted his long, long eyelashes and asked, “Is it kissing time now?”

Caesar snorted, shaking his head, but brought their faces together nonetheless. Tilting his head a little, he pressed a firm, chaste kiss on Joseph’s lips and pulled back. There were no electric shocks running wild through his body, no flashy fireworks exploding in his head. It just felt right, and it was comfortable, and he wanted to do it again.

Then Joseph was touching his own lips, wide-eyed like he hadn’t expected to actually be kissed, and his face was turning into a really cute shade of pink that made Caesar want to grab him and keep him all to himself. (And judging by the heat he was feeling on his face, Caesar was probably a similar shade of pink himself.)

But Joseph grabbed Caesar’s shoulder first. “I want another one,” he said and puckered his lips.

“That one wasn’t good enough for you?”

Joseph pouted. “It’s good, but not enough.”

How could anyone be so cute?

Caesar leaned in and pressed their lips together again, staying long enough for them both to register the softness and heat of each other’s lips, and pulled away while he still could.

“How about that one?”

Swallowing, Joseph replied with a small shake of his head – seemingly unable to tear his eyes away from Caesar’s lips – and moved his hand to cup at the back of Caesar’s neck. He said in a low voice, “Stop teasing me and show me what you really got.”

Caesar couldn’t help but smirk at that – it was so easy to rile Joseph up. “I thought I already did last time.”

“That one doesn’t count.” Joseph’s hot breath brushed Caesar’s lips. “What? Caught feelings and now you’re shy?”

Still sharp as always, even when riled up.

“No.” Caesar ducked down and nipped at Joseph’s neck, earning himself an aborted squirm in Joseph’s body and an audible hitch in Joseph’s breath. Spurred on, he licked and sucked at the sensitive spot, then, feeling bold, he slid his hands under Joseph’s shirt and, breathing steadily through his nose, sent ripple – just enough for Joseph to feel a little spark – to the soft, hot skin on Joseph’s waist. Joseph had stilled under his touch, but he could tell from Joseph’s quickening pulse and boiling blood and tightening grip on the back of his neck that Joseph didn’t want him to stop. He grazed his teeth gently across the tender skin above the pulse point and looked up.

Breathing heavily and fully flushed, Joseph looked back at Caesar through blown pupils and hooded eyes – he really went from zero to a hundred quickly.

Caesar smiled innocently. “What’s wrong, JoJo? Feeling shy?”

“Wha—” Joseph squawked, nervous laughter in his voice, “N…no way!” He chuckled loudly. “W…why’d you stop? Keep going! Don’t…don’t stop until I say so!” He tugged Caesar closer but stopped like he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Your next line’s gonna be, ‘Shut up and kiss me, you Casanova’,” Caesar said in his seductive voice.

Joseph’s eyes glazed over for a second before they rounded in shock. Obviously both offended and turned on by having his trick used on himself, Joseph scowled at Caesar, spluttered some nonsensical syllables, and finally relenting, said, “Sh…shut up and kiss me, you Casanova!”

Laughing a little, Caesar pushed him down until he laid flat on the bed, cupped his cheeks, and leaned down slowly – relishing the irritation and heat coming from Joseph’s gaze.

For all his impatience, Joseph surprisingly didn’t assault Caesar’s mouth like it was the last thing he’d do. He closed his eyes and let Caesar seal their lips together gently, humming at the contact, let Caesar kiss him softly and sweetly, tangling his fingers in Caesar’s hair, let Caesar lick and suck and savour his lips, returning and chasing after the kisses, let Caesar work into his mouth, groaning as the kiss deepened.

And Caesar let himself get lost in the soft touches and the low moans and the sweet taste of bubble gum, thinking about nothing but Joseph’s warm, solid presence under him because he didn’t need to think about anything else.

Neither of them knew how long this kiss had lasted; neither of them could be sure of how it had ended. But when it did, neither of them moved, both of them just breathing and looking and holding the other close.

Caesar, still coming down from the high, thought he could just stay this way forever, until the world ended.

Then Joseph, having already returned to his senses, smirked and opened his big mouth to ruin Caesar’s mood, “So are we gonna consummate this or what?”

“Consummate?” Caesar was sure he’d heard this word before, but he couldn’t recall its meaning.

“You know, like when you get married—”

“—Married?” screamed Caesar, jumping up so quickly he saw stars – he didn’t agree on marrying anybody, did he? Did he accidentally propose? How did British people propose? What was he going to do? He had no money to get married! He didn’t even have a ring! He was just here for a good time! Where were his clothes? Oh, he hadn’t taken them off—

“Or,” Joseph enunciated, propping himself up and tugging at Caesar’s shirt, “Or when you get a new boyfriend.” He raised an eyebrow at Caesar, who nodded and sat back down reluctantly. “And, you know, the first time you do…you know…” Grinning crookedly, Joseph brought up his flesh hand, held out his index finger right in Caesar’s face, frowned at his stump, made a circle with his index finger and thumb instead, and…

Caesar took hold of Joseph’s stump gently and brought it down before Joseph could complete the lewd gesture. “I get it, JoJo.”

Giggling like a middle-schooler, Joseph waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “So?”

Caesar sighed (unimaginably relieved that he hadn’t accidentally got married, even though he already knew he was going to be stuck with his idiot for life). “Are you sure you want to do that? Have you done it before?”

Joseph let out an offended gasp. “Of course I have! With Su—”

“—For the love of God, don’t tell me, Joseph!” Caesar covered his ears, suddenly understanding how Suzie had made up her mind to break up with Joseph.

“Fine, sorry,” Joseph said, rolling his eyes.

Caesar put his hands down. “Are you sure about that though?”

Looking away, Joseph nodded and mumbled, “I wanna know how it feels.”

“But you know we’d have to…prepare?”

“Prepare what? I’ve got condoms.”

“No. Like, prepare.” Caesar waved his hands around vaguely.

Joseph scowled. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Oh, no. The idiot hadn’t done it before. Did Caesar have to explain to him now? While they were…making out?

Groaning, Caesar flopped facedown onto the pillow. “You haven’t done it before, JoJo.”

“Yes, I have! Otherwise, what the hell have I been doing with Su—”

Scrambling back up, Caesar put a finger on Joseph’s lips and shushed him. “Think, idiota, think! What do girls have that you don’t?”

Joseph slapped Caesar’s hand away. “Well, obviously, they have…” His own hand and stump moved together to make gestures Caesar didn’t want to see. “And they…” Joseph froze, then his hand flew to cup his own cheek. “Holy shit!”

Caesar nodded.

“So if we do it, it’d be in my…”

Caesar nodded gravely. (Even more unimaginably relieved for Joseph’s curiosity because he would not be comfortable to do it the other way around, not that he was particularly comfortable with doing anything more than kissing right now.)

“Oh my god!” Joseph exclaimed so loudly that Caesar hoped the others didn’t hear him.

Wait, the others? What time was it? Lisa Lisa and Suzie didn’t know he was going to… Whatever, they were probably planning to ditch him here anyways.

“How do you know how that works? You’ve done that before?” Joseph screamed, sounding shriller and more British with each word.

“A couple times with girls.” Twice. Once if Caesar didn’t count that time he’d been so drunk he didn’t know what he was doing. Zero times if he didn’t count that time he’d simply watched with fascination while the girl had done most of the work.

“Figures… But are you sure that’s how we’d do it?”

Caesar wasn’t sure. He had no idea what he was doing here. He wasn’t ready, and he wanted some time to…research…first, but he had a reputation to uphold. (This was the one single area in which he had a definitive upper hand against Joseph, not that it was a competition or anything.) So he said smoothly, (even though on the inside, his soul was shrivelling up to a crisp under the intensity of his embarrassment), “Well, I guess if you really wanted to, we could also just touch each other.”

Hearing his own words, he mentally winced so hard that he was compelled to touch his face and check if everything was still in the same place, then he mentally cursed Joseph for making him say that sentence out loud.

“But that’s not… I can do that myself!” Joseph yelled so, so loudly.

If he had been a braver man, this would be the point where Caesar explained that what he had proposed would in fact feel very different, but despite all the dirty shower thoughts he’d had, the prospect of actually touching Joseph, a manly man, that way still made him nauseous and a little floaty in the head, so he just kept his mouth shut and shrugged.

“What were you doing last time then? How about you finish that?”

Last time? Caesar didn’t want to talk about last time. Public indecency was what he was doing last time.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “That wasn’t the proper way to do anything, JoJo, I was drunk.”

Jabbing a finger at Caesar’s sternum, Joseph hissed, “But you got me all worked up!”

How was that Caesar’s fault? All Caesar had done was a little kissing – sure, he was really good at that, but he hadn’t even let his hands wander that much!

“How was I supposed to know you’d get so worked up by a couple kisses?”

“Well, I did!” Joseph poked at Caesar’s shoulder with his stump and gestured wildly with his hand. “Look at what you did! Take responsibility, you jerk! Look!”

Caesar refused to look. Instead, he reached out and cupped Joseph’s cheek, making Joseph face him.

“I know, but I don’t want to rush through things, and I don’t want to hurt you. I want to do things properly with you,” Caesar said in his honey-coated gentleman voice, gazing lovingly into those pretty ocean-green eyes, “We don’t have to do anything tonight,” and for perhaps the first time in his life, had really, really meant it. Because he was tired from all the emotional rollercoasters he’d been on today, and he really, really didn’t want to see or touch anything that wasn’t his tonight.

For a brief moment, Joseph, gazing dazedly back into Caesar’s eyes, seemed convinced. But then he blinked, frowned, rounded his eyes in shock, and slapped Caesar’s hand away. “Oh my god, drop the Casanova act!”

Sighing, Caesar looked away.

Why did Joseph have to be so sharp?

Shaking Caesar by the shoulder, Joseph whined, “You’re my boyfriend now! And you put these ideas in my head in the first place! You have to do something about it!”

And Caesar almost said okay right then and there. Just to put a stop to the whining.

But he glanced at Joseph, and a tiny pocket of panic exploded in the pit of his stomach, and it took everything in him not to flinch and punch and skip town right then and there.

Breathing deeply in an attempt to keep his composure, he covered Joseph’s hand with his until Joseph stopped shaking him, then he took Joseph’s hand in both his, squeezed it, and admitted, already half-floating away, “JoJo, I’m not ready for that yet.”

Joseph, having seemingly sensed Caesar’s unease, quit his whining and, tilting his head to a better angle, studied Caesar’s face. “Seriously?”

Caesar replied with a simple glare.

Joseph squirmed a little at that. “I guess I just assumed you’d wanna… Since you’re…you know…” He laced their fingers together. “It’s okay though. We don’t have to do anything tonight.”

Intellectually, Caesar had always known what the effect of those words on people should be, but hearing them echoed back at him for the first time, he finally understood what it felt like on the receiving end.

It felt like landing softly on solid ground after months of plunging headlong down a cliff.

As the growingly familiar warm and fuzzy feeling filled his chest, Caesar looked at the lovely person beside him, met those lovely eyes, nodded, and said, once again, “I love you.”

Pink coloured Joseph’s cheeks. He squeezed Caesar’s hand and said, “I know. I love you, too.” Then he let go of Caesar’s hand and shifted tensely to sit on the other side of the bed. “But you gotta stop saying that if you still want me to…calm down.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Caesar said, chuckling under his breath at Joseph’s awkwardness.

“Okay, why don’t you just stay quiet for a while?” Joseph huffed an irritated breath, then spun around and leaned down to pick up a comic book. “I’m just gonna face this way and read my book until I calmed down, and then I’ll join you back there, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now quiet time, please.”

Still smiling, Caesar laid down on his side of the bed and let himself relax to the sound of flipping pages and Joseph’s intermittent humming.

The first thing Caesar became aware of was the heavy heat crushing his chest; the second was a ticklish sensation on his cheek.

He cracked his eyes open, blinked away the bleariness, and looked.

He had one arm dangling over the edge of the bed, and his blankets had been kicked away to pool around his ankles, and Joseph had rested the stump (along with half of his upper body) on top of his chest and slung a leg over both his, head tucked nice and snug into the crook of his neck, doing the full koala cling.

Caesar was sweating from the body-heat, could barely breathe through the weight on his chest, but still, he didn’t want to move.

Sunlight, filtered through the curtains, landed on Joseph, wrapping his sleeping frame in a gentle, golden, breathtaking brightness, and Caesar couldn’t look away, couldn’t even move lest he disturbed this rare serenity.

Something that felt like molten light flowed in his body, churning, until he finally gave in and leaned down to press a kiss on the crown of Joseph’s head.

Joseph stirred, his hair tickling Caesar’s face, and lifted his head. “Caesarino,” he slurred with his eyes still closed and pressed his lips blindly on Caesar’s cheek, giving him a loud smooch. “I love you.”

Caesar couldn’t help but grin. “Morning, JoJo.”

Joseph’s eyes opened in a squint. “No, Caesarino, you’re supposed to say, ‘I love you, too’.”

“I love you, too,” Caesar said, chuckling.

The usual lopsided smirk slowly emerged onto Joseph’s face as he blinked himself awake. “I love you three,” he said.

Right, so it was a game.

Caesar went along with it, “I love you four.”

“But I love you more.”

“But I love you even more.”

Joseph giggled at that. “But I love you the most, so I win.”

Even though Caesar wanted to search through his brain for something to counter that statement, he didn’t.

“Okay,” he said, letting Joseph love him the most.

Grinning, Joseph leaned back and propped his head on his hand.

He looked at Caesar, and Caesar looked back, then he whispered, adoration spilling out of his voice, “God, your eyes are so green.”

And Caesar just had to pull him into a kiss.

Surrounded by bright sunlight, with all the time in the world and an entire future waiting outside the room, Caesar kissed Joseph nice and slow, knowing they were going to be alright.