Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Hey Caesar, did you hear? Sounds like someone’s trying to steal your job.”

The man in question lifts his head slowly from the chemistry equations he was previously engrossed in. One of his eyebrows lifts and disappears into the bandanna wrapped around his forehead. Mark motions his head over his shoulder to some gossiping girls a couple of tables away from theirs in the library.

The blond glances over at the girls, not hearing much besides some mention of an international student before turning back to his friend and saying blandly,

“My occupation as a hardworking chemistry student?”

“No! You know what I mean – “ Mark wiggles his fingers. “The spooky spirit exorcist thing. Apparently that a new international student that’s studying here for the semester has also taken an interest in all the supernatural stuff that happens around this campus.”

Caesar hums and turns back to his chemistry homework, seemingly disinterested.

“There’s little chance that they’re even worth looking into.”

Mark doesn’t disagree.

“But you’re gonna do it anyways right?”

The silence is answer enough.

“Apparently he hangs out in one of the lounges in the psychology building after three on Thursdays,” Mark supplies.

★☆★☆★☆

Caesar is born and raised Catholic. He has always lapsed in and out of his belief, but he eventually always returns somehow, especially during hard times. His faith only grows stronger once he learns things that go bump in the night aren’t always just wind or stray animals, but real monsters that leave behind not just bad dreams but blood and bones.

It is by no means a requirement for being able to exorcise ghosts and demons, but it hones his focus. It’s also part of the reason he despises fakes like this student, probably going around and thinking he’s so funny making a quick dollar off of desperate people. It’s extremely rare to find that someone is actually being haunted and it pisses the blond off every time he sees people being taken advantage of. Exorcisms are entwined deeply to his history and damn anyone who tries to tarnish the sanctity of that.

He makes his way over to the psychology building, curious as to what kind of fool is trying to masquerade as a ghost hunter this time around. Caesar hasn’t met many over the years, but he’s met enough to know they’re either pathetic or insane enough to actually believe that they’re some sort of medium with a connection to the dead. The only true exorcist he knows of is his master and her disciples.

When he walks into the lounge, he’s relatively sure of what to expect. Some arrogant big mouth talking out of their ass.

He doesn’t expect to see a hulk of a man with his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of him, lips obnoxiously pursed as he listens to the student in front of him. What are they feeding international students? Caesar isn’t small by any means, but it’s rare to find a person who matches his bulk, but even goes as far to exceed it.

The faker twirls a pen in his left hand – which, oddly enough, has a glove on it even though they’re indoors – and holds his cheek in his right hand as he listens to the victim. His eyes are fucking twinkling, like he’s in on a giant inside joke that no one else can see. His brown hair is wild and unruly, does the man even own a brush? A letterman jacket wraps around his large frame.

This man is giving off such jock energy that it makes Caesar’s head spin. Someone like this is trying to give advice on hauntings and people are actually listening? The chemistry student takes a seat at an empty table in the room so he can listen in to what he’s sure is going to be a ludicrous conversation.

“…So my roommates and I are getting headaches all the time, it’s awful. I think something’s choking me in my sleep, I always wake up out of breath, I could swear that I see some shadows above when it happens. My roommates have mentioned that they’ve been hearing strange noises. I’m really scared here!”

“Hmm, I see, I see. Do you happen to know how old your place is?”

“It’s pretty old… Do you think it could be haunted?! Could someone have been murdered there?!”

The jock points his pen at the frightened student, nodding solemnly. “Oh yeah. We might have a real bad case on our hands here.”

Bullshit, Caesar thinks to himself. There’s no sign anywhere on the victim’s aura of any supernatural influence. He barely manages to keep himself from interrupting the conversation right then and there (and potentially punching the jock’s face in). If he’s going to sit through this, he’s going to listen to all of this imposter’s lies.

“W-what do you think I should do?”

“Really, you should probably get out of that house if you can. From what you’ve been tellin’ me, seems like these ghosts are haunting the house, not anyone of you.”

“We can’t just leave though! We have a contract, we’re still paying rent!”

“I’d call your landlord.”

The victim of the so-called haunting has his hands in his hair and looks a couple of minutes away from ripping some locks off his head.

“There’s no way he’d believe me! What do I even say?! ‘Hey, you need to let us out of this contract because I’m being haunted?’ He’s not going to let that slide.”

The jock leans back and spins his pen in his left hand again. Caesar clenches his fist in irritation, eye twitching. What’s this fool trying to do, needlessly trying to bring this student into a big argument with his landlord?

“So don’t. If you absolutely have to stay there, open up all the windows. It’ll let all the – uh – ‘bad energy’ out so the ghosts won’t come out to haunt you as much. Don’t tell your landlord about all the ghost stuff. Like you said, non-believers aren’t gonna believe you. I’d tell him to look at your furnace.”

“My… my furnace?”

“Oh yeah, your furnace is definitely haunted.”

 The massive man sighs heavily, crossing his arms across his chest. The nervous student wasn’t following the train of thought, clearly lost. Caesar can hardly blame him; he’s barely following the international student’s line of thought himself. He almost wants to give him the benefit of the doubt and chalk it up to issues from the language barrier, but something tells him that this man is always like this, which only serves to power a growing headache behind his temples.

“How can you tell?”

The jock taps the side of his head with the pen. “Psychic. You know what –“ Joseph grabs the small notepad sitting on his right leg and presents it along with the pen to the student. “Look, if you write down your address and your landlord’s phone number, I can just call them for you. Probably easier that way anyway.”

The student seems at war with emotions of wariness and relief. He considers the potential harm of giving someone who’s essentially a stranger his address, but he’s also worn down enough due to a lack of sleep that he wants this problem out of his hands. In the end, he jots down his address and the landlord’s phone number, along with his own. The jock gives a sloppy two-finger salute. Grabbing his book bag off the floor, the student gives a quick nod of thanks before shuffling along.

Caesar waits with some absolutely amazing self-control until the student passes the threshold of the lounge before storming up to the jock and wrenching the notepad out of his hands. The man looks dumbstruck, staring at his empty hands for a second before whipping his head up to lock eyes with the thief. There’s an angry crease between his brows and a growl on his lips that Caesar watches dissolve into a look of pure shock. It’s the look of a dear in the headlights. It fucks with him a bit. If anything, he would have expected the opposite order of reactions. Remembering the task at hand, he forces himself to remember his true objective. He grabs the jacket with his free hand, pulling the idiot’s face closer to his. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, you stronzo?! Spinning this bullshit story to that student about his furnace being haunted? What do you get out of this? Did you take his money? Are you planning to scam him somehow with this?” He waves the notepad for emphasis.

The jock snaps out of his shock, frustration causing his brows to furrow once more. “What? No! The hell? Look, you dick, calm down for a goddamn second, you aren’t getting it! Where do you get off, getting all up in my case when you don’t even know what’s going on?!”

They’re so caught up screaming at each other that they don’t notice a bespectacled girl standing at the doorway.

“Um… excuse me!”

They both whip their heads toward the hoarse, tiny voice.

The girl wrings her hands and her eyes dart around the lounge. “I heard that someone here gives advice on – um – things like… you know…”

The oaf ends up recovering first, ignoring the fact that Caesar nearly lifting him up by the jacket. He leans to the side to make eye contact with the girl hidden by the blond’s shoulders. He points a finger – quite rudely, Caesar notes – at the girl.

“Oh, do you think you’re being haunted or something?”

The girl’s face flushes, embarrassed. Still, she nods once. Before this faker can take on another victim, Caesar swoops in, pocketing the notepad in his jeans and dropping the letterman jacket in his grip in favor of grasping the girl’s hands.

“Lovely signorina, please ignore this buffoon’s rudeness. In fact, ignore him completely. Please tell me what ails you?”

In the background, the jock adjusts his jacket, looking annoyed. “Hey asshole, I have a name!” He continues to mutter under his breath, but it’s so fast that it’s unintelligible. Still, he stops and looks toward the new girl, waving his hand as an acknowledgment that he’s listening.

Taking a deep breath, the girl steels herself, withdrawing her hands from Caesar’s to place them on her scarf. Holding her breath, she pulls at the fabric which she gathers into a clump in front of her. Caesar sucks in a sharp breath while the man behind him hisses at what’s been revealed.

Ugly bruises cover the majority of her neck. There are two crescents punctures at the front, leaving behind red scabs.

Despite the horror at the severity of her wounds, that’s not what draws his attention the most. No, what grabs his attention is the ink-like aura that coats the bruises. Caesar can feel the hairs on his arms stand in the face of what he knows is remnants of a demonic entity. There’s no other explanation for something that feels so utterly grotesque.

The aura thrums and the girl winces as she reaches for her throat.

The bulkier man moves to the girl and places his hands on her shoulders as he guides her to the sofas. “Hey, hey, you should take a seat. Want something for your throat? I can make some tea.”

She takes a seat, still rubbing at her throat while the international student moves toward the electric kettle to boil some water. With the other man distracted, and aware that a case that could become much more serious than some mere scams, Caesar takes initiative to get more information. It’s entirely possible that whatever attacked this girl could extend its claws further.

“Signorina, I apologize, I did not get your name.”

The girl attempts to give a smile, but it ends up coming out as more of a grimace. “It’s Anna. I suppose you’d like to know what happened?”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman,” he flatters. “My name is Caesar. But yes, only if you are comfortable, how did you get those bruises?” he probes gently.

Gingerly, Anna rubs at her throat. “I was asked to clean up the garden in front of the old agriculture building for extra credit.”

A steaming superman mug lands on the table in front of Anna. Caesar can’t help but roll his eyes at the flashy looking mug. Not just a phony, but a kid too. The girl on the other hand looks up at the brunette and gives her thanks. 

“No problem. I’m Joseph by the way.”

Caesar can’t help but mutter under his breath, “Nobody asked you, fool.” 

Joseph must have a very good sense of hearing or he must’ve said that louder than he thought because without even a glance at him, Joseph quickly flips the bird at him before speaking again, ignoring the fact that Anna is looking at them both with some hesitant glances as if reconsidering their legitimacy.

“Man, I haven’t even been here a while and even I’ve heard the rumors about that building. Isn’t that place basically a graveyard or something?”

“That was why the horticulture professor was offering extra credit. Not many students are willing to go there. Our student organization was thinking of actually redoing the entire garden so I volunteered.”

Joseph whistles, “You guys are brave.” At the same time, Caesar remarks, “That’s very admirable of you.”

Anna manages the give a faint smile at the praise before sipping her tea. Her eyes widen in surprise at the taste which makes Joseph grin. But her expression quickly turns forlorn. “I can’t say it was worth it though. I went to the gardens to try and clean it up. I’m not a believer in the supernatural, so I just got to work. But while I was working on cleaning around a tree, I started getting goosebumps out of nowhere. Then I heard the ungodliest screech. It was inhuman. All I could hear was ringing. It paralyzed both my body and my mind. I was frozen. I don’t know how long I stood there, but then I was thrown into the tree trunk. Then I felt… not hands, that sounds too human. It was like… beastly appendages trying to choke me.”

She grabs at her throat as tears come to her eyes at the memory. Caesar’s heart clenches for her. He puts a hand on her shoulder, hoping to comfort her. He can’t help but also grip at the fabric of his slacks, furious. What right did these fucking demons have to come into their lives without warning and tear them apart?

He turns to Joseph, wondering if he understands the gravity of the situation. The other man looks serious, but it appears he’s retreated into his own mind, his face gives little away. It adds fuel to Caesar’s ire; it pisses him off that he can’t get a read on this guy. This is no joke, this is a true supernatural case. Getting involved could mean death. As much as he didn’t like this Joseph guy, he would never wish that kind of curse on a person.

A loud buzz breaks the dark silence that’s taken over the room. Caesar flinches and quickly retrieves his phone. He brings a hand to his mouth after reading over the message from Mark.

Mark [4:02 PM]: hey, don’t think I’ll be able to meet up for dinner tonight.

Mark [4:04 PM]: helping Carla with at the old ag building

Mark [4:05 PM]: you know, the ol “haunted” one lol

Caesar leaps up in a panic, babbling out an excuse as his throat seems to close up. “My deepest apologies Bellissima, something has come up. I must go, but I assure you, I will take care of this monster so that it shall never bother you again.”

With that, he breaks out into a sprint, storming out of the lounge. He vaguely hears Joseph shouting at him but the pounding of his heart in his ears prevents him from truly listening to what that guy has to say to him. All that consumes him is getting to Mark before anything else does. He quickly dials his friend’s number, hoping, praying, that it’s not too late to get Mark and his girlfriend to leave.

He breathes a little better when the dial tone ends, and Mark picks up.

“Hey Caesar, what’s up? Did you get my texts?”

“Mark, listen to me, you and Carla need to get leave.”

“Oh c’mon man, you can’t seriously be telling me that the place is actually –“

“Mark, please,” Caesar begs. There’s a silence on the other side of the phone for a bit before the German breathes out a sigh.

“Okay, alright. I’ll tell Carla, we’ll leave in a couple of –“

An unholy shriek bursts through the phone and sends a cold chill up Caesar’s spine. There’s a ringing in his right ear. He can feel the blood drain from his face.

Fuck fuck fuck!

He tries to yell for Mark but knows in his gut that no response will come.

Caesar pushes his body to run faster.

★☆★☆★☆

Back in the lounge, Joseph makes some loud annoyed noises and ruffles his hands through his hair in frustration.

“That prick! He’s so – so hotheaded! And I should know! They usually call me the impulsive one!”

With a deep breath, Joseph tries to keep himself together so he can at least reassure Anna.

“Don’t worry, that guy knows what he’s doing. He’s definitely heading toward the old agriculture building right now to exorcise the thing!”

In his head though, Joseph couldn’t help but think, at least I hope he knows what he’s doing.

Shaking the thought away, he quickly ruffles through his bookbag for a sticky note and a pen, scribbling down something.

“Anyways, Anna, here’s my number. Let me know if anything happens with those bruises. Me n’ Caesarino will take care of it, don’t you worry.”

Looking a little shellshocked, Anna takes the number and nods.

With that Joseph moves to leave the lounge but stops for a second, turning back to Anna.

“By any chance… the old agriculture building can be found on Google Maps right?”

Anna looks the correct amount of concerned when she says, “The agriculture building is so old that it doesn’t show up. All I can tell you is that it’s near the student gyms.”

Joseph deflates at the news, looking forlornly at his phone. “That’s just my luck. No worries, I’ll figure it out.”

With a quick wave, he runs out of the student lounge, leaving a very worried girl in his wake.

“…Maybe I should have googled this some more,” she says aloud.

★☆★☆★☆

Sweat is dripping down his brow and soaking uncomfortably in his cardigan. Caesar ignores the chill that it causes along with his pounding heart. He stares up at the old agriculture building covered in twisting ivy that seems intent on consuming the structure. There are missing bricks and splintered wood. Some of the windows are cracked or have the glass pushed out of the frames. It’s a building that’s been void of love and care for many years.

It’s little wonder that, despite being unseen to normal passerby’s eyes, a dark cloak of miasma thrummed around the building. It curls and pulses like a living thing, but there is no doubt that it is something unholy. Dread coils in his stomach at the thought of Mark encountering the cause of that thing. No matter how disgusting the feeling of it is, there is no doubt that the cause is not something to be taken lightly.

Caesar’s jaw clenches hard enough to hurt. He pulls his fingerless gloves out of his back pocket and slips them on.

Deciding not to waste any more time, he runs into the gardens, calling out Mark’s name, urgency making his voice amplify louder.

His heart nearly stops when he notices Carla knocked unconscious at the base of a tree trunk. He rushes over to her, fingers immediately checking for a pulse. A flood of relief washes over him as he feels a light thump thump.

Carefully, he lays her down and promises to come back for her.

He needs to find Mark. Fast.

He gazes out at the gardens and sees nothing but weeds and decaying leaves. Despite being a “garden”, there’s not a sign of life at all.

If Mark isn’t in the gardens…

Caesar whips his eyes toward the old building with a look that could only be described as despair.

“Merda…”

Pulling himself together, he sprints over to the rotting front doors and slams them open with the heel of his boot. Instantly, he’s hit by the scent of stale air mixed with something like flesh. He allows himself to gag once before recomposing himself. Peering into the building, it looks like darkness belongs there. The walls are cold concrete. He takes a step forward. The floor creaks. Without some clue to Mark’s whereabouts, Caesar might be too late. With that thought in mind, Caesar crouches down and presses his fingertips to the floor and focuses.

Sparks fly from his fingertips. Taking a deep breath, he pushes the energy outwards, searching for a familiar spark. There’s a flash of determination when he finds what he’s looking for. It’s Mark. He’s sure of it. Near the back of the building, west side.

Staring straight ahead, Caesar pushes off his heel into a sprint. He ignores the burn in his limbs and lungs, running as fast as possible with a single-minded focus. It’s not long before he’s slamming open the door to the room he was looking for.

The image in front of him makes him clench his fist so hard that the crescents of his nails bite through his palms. He feels his teeth might shatter.

Demons are always grotesque. Caesar knows this. He’s fought enough of them to know. This one has a large, unhinged jaw. Saliva drips out of it in pools that hiss when it reaches the ground. Its eyes are like pinholes, but they’re hollow. Welts cover its black decaying body. The stench of them might be even worse. Always reeking of spoiled flesh. The only benefit of grinding his teeth together is preventing him from gagging at the smell.

But this time, what horrifies him more isn’t the demon, but the head the demon’s long, gangly claws are crushing.

Mark’s body lays limp like a ragdoll. There are four jagged, bloody claw marks on his back.

Blood drains out of Caesar’s face. His body feels numb.

“Worthless. Not worthy. Maybe you more fun. More challenge,” the demon’s echoing voice turns into a loud cackle.

The heat and fury that slams into him makes him feel lightheaded. He feels his face contort into a snarl.

“You want a challenge? I’ll give you a fucking challenge!”

He uses his gloves channeled with Hamon to create bubbles with enough angular momentum to slice through flesh. Caesar directs them forward at the demon, who laughs with glee, trying to dodge. The blond smirks as some of the bubbles slice through the demon’s flesh, but it’s quickly wiped away once the demon starts to cackle, even as its cuts bleed.

“Fun, fun, fun! So much fun! Human amusing!”

Caesar barely manages to dodge its quick claws. The tips still manage to slice through his cheek. He lets out a hiss at the burn. He doesn’t let himself get distracted. He watches the cuts on the demon sew back as if his cutter had no effect.

Cazzo! If this one can regenerate, he’s going to need to flood this monster with Hamon to get any damage to last. But that means needing enough time to get the Hamon in the thing. And this demon moves fast.

With that thought, the demon strikes sharp with its claws, managing to puncture through his left leg. Caesar gasps and stumbles.

He needs to get a grip. He needs just a moment to just fucking think.

It takes too much effort to dodge the next snap of the demon’s maw. He breathes heavily afterword, starting to feel the effects of the sharp pain of his leg. Still, he manages to send more spinning bubbles to try to add more distance between him and the beast. It hmms and haws at the attack. Then it laughs. A shudder crawls up Caesar’s spine at the low, mocking sound. He watches as the black creature crawls over closer to Mark, cold sweat creeping down his face.

Goddamnit, he’s running on fumes. This would be his last shot. He must make it count, has to get Mark safe. With the last of his strength, he sends a flurry of bubbles to push at the beast, forcing it to bounce off the wall before falling to the floor. The bubbles surround the demon before forming into one large prison, trapping it.

Caesar knows it’s not enough when the demon makes curious, contemplative noises again, even while trapped in a sphere of Hamon that should harm it. It morbidly taps at the bubble, chuckling as sparks fly at the contact. It drags both claws into the bubble, ignoring its burning flesh and ripping through with pure force. The bubble snaps, sparks flying like fireworks, continuing to burn through the demon’s flesh which slowly recovers. It twists its neck to the left, to the right.

“Heh heh heh. What next?”

Caesar’s out of options. He can’t even flee, this demon would rip through him and Mark in an instant.

It’s at that moment that the window near the monster shatters. An invisible force seems to hold the demon which struggles against invisible binds. The choking sounds that escape the thing’s throat fills Caesar with sadistic satisfaction. He watches with shock as familiar glowing energy reveals the path of the invisible binds trapping this demon and burns through its flesh. He watches in fascination as a cycle of melting and healing flesh occurs.

“Hey Caesarino~ you’re looking pretty beat up there, you Italian playboy!”

That grating voice – it couldn’t be – 

“Your next line is going to be – ‘what the hell are you doing here you damn charlatan?!’”

“What the hell are you doing here you damn charlatan?!”

As soon as the words escape him, he’s hit with the oddest sensation. He spits at the ground, mouth feeling fuzzy. He looks past the shattered window to see a broad bodied, obnoxiously grinning brunette posing with his fist near his face, posing as if he has a rope around his hand. His arm trembles in exertion.

The monster snarls, drool spilling in heaps onto the ground. Caesar can see its neck compressing, even though he can’t see what exactly is doing the compressing. The familiarity of the Hamon that Joseph somehow is managing to create causes a buzz in the air. There’s a directionality to it. It’s being pumped into its target with high pressure. He has so many questions but now is not the time.

“Hey asshole, you got enough left in ya' to blast this bitch?” Joseph nags him.

He really doesn’t, but he isn’t going to let this idiot know that. He’s going to lie through his teeth and gather up every damn drop of the stuff left in his body. Caesar stands shakily from his knees. “Don’t underestimate me stronzo! Think you’re better than me just because you have some parlor tricks?”

Joseph’s voice is strained when he retorts, “Yeah, yeah, less talkie talkie, more walk-y walk-y!”

Caesar lunges forward, fingers already charged with Hamon ready to flow in opposition to Joseph's. He bares his teeth ferally at it, right before he wipes away its miserable existence.

“Burn in hell,” he sneers at the beast.

It’s one of the most satisfying exorcisms he’s ever had to perform. There are few words that can describe the joy of watching its flesh melt away as golden light crackles around it. The shriek the demon lets out is deafening, especially since it’s right near its ear. But eventually, everything is gone, turned to dust.

Relief hits him like taking the first drag of a cigarette. He crumples to the ground, slamming on his knees. A huff of air leaves him. Vaguely, he registers the sound of crunching glass. He looks up to see a fuzzy vision of Joseph stepping through the broken window. Light streams behind him, softening the edges of him.

“You’re going to cut yourself, coglione,” Caesar slurs.

“Careful, you’re gonna make me think you actually care, ya tosser. Now, up and at it! Gotta get you and that friend of yours outta here. It’s giving me the chills staying here!”

“We just defeated a demon and you’re scared of an old building?”

Still, his eyes went to the still unconscious Mark. Rising on shaky legs, he tries to make his way over to Mark. Logically, there’s no way he’s going to be able to carry the other man, but he needs to try. Or at least, that’s what he thinks before he’s being pulled back by the scruff of his neck. Joseph absolutely does not need to know how close he was to toppling over from just that pull alone.

“What the fuck –“

“Stealing other people’s words is my thing. You can barely walk on your own two feet, let alone carry another man.”

With that, Joseph lifts Mark off the floor with a gentleness that Caesar wouldn’t have expected from the large, obnoxious man. He tries to mind the wounds on his back as much as possible, muttering, “Sorry, my bad,” when Mark winces.

The taller man’s gaze turns to Caesar once the German man was held comfortably in his arms. A questioning eyebrow is raised. The blond glowers.

“What?”

“Can you walk on your own?”

Not even dignifying him with a response, Caesar bulldozes past Joseph to the doorway as if to say “Yes, I’m perfectly capable of using my legs and fuck you.” Pointedly, he ignores the heavier breathes he’s taking and the acute pain in his left leg. Behind him, Joseph rolls his eyes and mutters something under his breath about stubborn Italians before following. 

It takes a while longer to reach the front of the building than Caesar would have originally thought. He’s not sure if that’s due to the rush of adrenaline as he sprinted to the end of the building or if it’s because of the stabs of pain running up his leg. Or maybe, it was the fact that he had to spend this time with Joseph, who he had mentally categorized as a dirty liar but was now someone who was making Caesar question every assumption he’d made about the man.

The only point Caesar could comfortably confirm was still the same was that this Joseph kid pissed him off.  

It’s a relief to reach the exit to the building. The remnants of sunlight shining in the distance warms his face and it’s then that the tenseness from the battle begins to melt away.

“Mark!”

Carla looks wrecked, tears gathering around red, puffy eyes. Her hair’s a mess. Still, she runs up to Mark and grabs his face. Joseph noticeably jerks at the new presence, looking at Caesar with a look that sat somewhere between panic, surprise, and questioning. He searches Carla’s face for a moment, watching her fuss over Mark, then looks back at Caesar and mouths silently, “Girlfriend?”

Nodding, Caesar gingerly places a hand on Carla’s shoulder, trying to move her away from Mark. Softly, he tries his best to comfort her. “He’s alive Carla. He’ll be okay. He’s just unconscious. Are you alright? How’s your head?”

It’s concerning when Carla barely responds. She’s pale and shaky, barely holding herself up.

“We need to get them both to a doctor.”

“You’re not lookin’ so hot yourself, dude. Hospital ain’t a bad idea, but it’s pretty far,” Joseph hums.

The word “hospital” seems to register in Carla’s mind. “I brought my car. Please help Mark,” she sobs. Digging a hand into her pockets, she pulls out her car keys, holding them out towards Caesar. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I should drive.”

Caesar takes the keys. They find the car in a nearby parking lot. It takes some time getting Mark in the backseat. At some point, Joseph manages to pluck the car keys from Caesar with the argument that yes, it might be your left leg that’s injured and you can press on the brake and gas with your right but I actually have two working legs so got you beat, do the math.

It doesn’t take long to get to the hospital. The nurses there are shaken when they see the student’s injuries. Joseph takes over when it comes to explanations, mentioning what kinds of wounds but avoiding trying to explain how they came about. When they question the large man on what kind of animal caused the bloody gashes on Mark’s back, the six foot five man shrugs and says that it was too dark in the building to tell and oh, it probably wandered in looking for food or something. He really should get put on antibiotics or something, huh? Carla’s taken away to check her head and for a CT scan. Caesar tries to avoid getting taken in but Joseph quickly points out the leg injury which gets the nurses crawling all over him, to his dismay. Typically, he’d relish the chance to flirt with some lovely nurses but he’s fucking tired and he gets a feeling that Joseph’s going to run away at the first chance he gets.

“Joseph, you better be right there when I come back,” Caesar says as he’s carried away.

“What are you, a kid?”

“I’m serious, Jojo.”

For a moment, Joseph looks like a deer in the headlights. It almost makes Caesar want to ask what’s wrong. But it’s gone so quickly that the blond can’t help but wonder if he even saw it in the first place. With a pout, Joseph laces his fingers behind his head, elbows in the air, looking off to the side.

“Fine, I’ll wait here. Just go get your leg fixed up. I’m getting hungry.”

“You better not be pulling some –“

“Jeez! I’m not! You have something of mine anyways! I’ll just be in the waiting area for you to come back.”

He turns on his heels to go to the waiting area with a two-finger salute in the air as the older man gets ushered away.

Luckily, there’s not much to do for the injury on his leg. They clean and give a couple of stitches to keep the wound closed, telling him to come back in a week to see if they can take it out. They also prescribe him some antibiotics. He’s pretty sure it all takes less than an hour.

Which is why he’s surprised to see Joseph passed out in the waiting room, snoozing as if without a care in the world. The nurses waiting at the table seem to be keeping an eye on him, looking incredibly amused. Instead of waking him up right away, Caesar takes a seat next to him, wanting to take a moment to observe the other man while he has his guard down.

The messy-haired boy has his head resting on his left shoulder. He going to be dealing with some serious neck pains when he wakes up. He’s snoring, but it’s not the bullhorn he thought it would be, though that could just be because he’s not deep in REM yet. There’s drool running down the side of his face because of course, this man is disgusting. Caesar searches his face for… something. He’s not quite sure what he’s looking for. A sign that this man actually can see spirits? A sign that he’s actually capable of exorcising demons? Maybe he’s just looking for something that he might have missed the first time around when this guy was twirling and waving his pen around with some half-assed story about a haunted furnace.

He tries to summon the burning anger he felt when he first learned about the man and is disappointed to find that it’s little more than a little flame now.

How things change in the matter of a couple of hours.

His fingers ruffle through his hair as he leans forward, facing the ground, and he heaves a heavy sigh. His hands end up move from his hand to his face.

The thing is, Caesar has a lot of pride but he knows when he’s wrong. He might not ever admit it to Joseph, but clearly, there’s more to him then what he’s seen so far.

He moves his hands, lacing them behind his neck, elbows resting on his knees. He peers through his bangs at Joseph. He hates that his thoughts seem to whirl around this guy, this guy who he barely knows.

Needing an outlet for his frustration, and tired of staring at this sleeping idiot, he stabs two of his fingers at said sleeping idiot’s forehead. There’s an immense satisfaction at watching him awake with a snort and a sputter. One hand flies wildly to his forehead, rubbing at the spot while another hand wipes at the drool falling down his chin. It stains his glove.

“God, you’re an asshole,” Joseph groans groggily as he tries to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

A pang of something much too close to amity thuds in his heart. Without mercy, Caesar squashes and ignores the emotion, excusing it as something like hunger in his mind.

“I thought you wanted food.”

It’s unfair how the dolt’s turquoise eyes fucking glitter at the thought of food. It’s like looking at the shore on the beach when the sunlight hits the surface. But the sunsets and Joseph’s eyes darken as he considers something.

“Wait, you’re coming with?”

Should he be offended? To be fair, he’s the one barging in on Joseph’s dinner. “Is that a problem?”

Crossing his arms, Joseph looks off to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “I guess not… what about your friends though?”

Luckily, the doctors had told him they would be staying overnight until Mark woke up, but would probably be fine to be released. Carla, of course, would stay with Mark until then. Caesar tells Joseph as much.

“Fineeee. But I’m picking the place!”

Caesar supposes that’s fair. He’s the one barging in after all. They take a bus back to campus area. Joseph leads them to a little restaurant on the corner of a street. Before he knows it, they’re settled in their seats reading through a menu. A waitress comes to take their order. Before Caesar even has the time to turn on the charm, she glances over to Joseph with an unimpressed look.

“Let me guess,” she rolls the words out in the blandest tone. “Spaghetti al nero and a coke.”

“Mika, that’s my trick! You can’t just steal my lines like that!”

“I’m so sorry dear customer,” she says sarcastically before turning away from Joseph and to Caesar with a pleasant smile. The quick change in her expression is enough to give anyone whiplash. “Hello, sorry about that. Are you ready to order?”

“Ah, no need to apologize signorina. If you could, the gnocchi and a glass of pecorino?” Caesar asks, taking his voice low and sultry.

Mika scribbles down his order and gives him an expression that essentially says, oh, you’re adorable. A mix of amusement and slight pity. Caesar isn’t quite used to that reaction. “I’ll get that right out for you two.”

Once she’s out of sight, Joseph leans in and whispers, “She’s a hardass but she’s a softy on the inside. She always gets me bigger portions.”

Joseph immediately dives into the bread and olive oil, cheeks full like a squirrel hoarding for winter. Caesar watches with distaste, eating his own bread by tearing off smaller, polite sizes to consume compared to Joseph biting into the bread.

After they get their drinks, Caesar decides it’s time to get into the meat of it.

“Joseph.”

Said man is drinking his coke with exaggeratedly pursed lips. His brows fly up when Caesar calls his name.

“You know how to exorcise demons,” the older man states rather than asks.

Joseph stares at him blankly. “Uhh, yeah,” he says slowly, in a sort of condescending way that makes Caesar want to punch him in the nose. Despite his annoyance, Caesar trudges on.

“Where did you learn Hamon?”

Joseph leans back and Caesar cringes as he realizes Joseph hasn’t finished chewing yet. “Is this an interrogation? I don’t know man, I’ve been able to do this –“ Crackles of gold energy whip around his fingertips, “– since I was little.”

For some reason, Caesar feels that he’s being fed half-truths. It’s hard to know how to feel about it. Logically speaking, they’ve only met today. There’s no reason for Joseph to spill all his secrets. But some small part of him flinches at the thought of the man across from him not trusting him enough to tell him his story. He has no place to complain though. Joseph’s already proven himself to be an ally, following him, helping him save Mark, taking them to the hospital. 

There’s another nagging question that bothers him.

“How did you find me?”

At that, the brunette perks up. Whipping out his phone, he holds the screen out towards Caesar. His left-hand hovers underneath it. Unknown to Caesar, purple vines snake around the device, digging into it. The dim screen lights up, flickering a couple of times. Somehow, a maps app gets pulled up without any prompting from Joseph, or at least any that Caesar can see. Part of him wants to be skeptical. The implications of this ability are unsettling.

“…You’re not some sort of hacker, are you?”

He wants to laugh at how disgusted Joseph looks at the thought of programming.

“Yuck, no thanks. That’s way too much work. This is 100% pure skill.”

“Somehow, I doubt that anything you do is ‘100% pure skill.’”

 “Wow, fuck you too,” though there’s little heat in the words.

Then Joseph’s phone goes dead and the man wilts.

“God, it always dies when I use this trick. It’s so annoying. Always need to have a charger around. But hey, better than bubbles, right?” There’s a flash of pearly white with a mischievous grin.

Caesar flushes. “Sta zitto! A bumbling idiota like you couldn’t even begin to understand how much precision and control it takes to pull off a technique like that!”

Joseph’s smirking and Caesar’s fuming when the waitress comes back. She doesn’t seem to be surprised to see Caesar riled up. In fact, she even comments, “He has that effect on people doesn’t he,” while jabbing a thumb toward the other man. Despite her cutting words, as Joseph said, there does seem to be a substantial amount more of the black pasta than he would expect from a normal serving.

The sight of Joseph with black ink on his lips causes a stutter in his heart. A short stab of pain causes his vision to blur. But it seems to fade as quickly as it came. The chemistry student can’t help but wonder if he got shaken up more than he originally thought in the battle with that demon. But the doctors never said anything, so he must be fine.

Caesar gets through half of the gnocchi on his plate before another question nags at him.

“Why did you lie to that other student before? About the furnace?”

Joseph stares at him, black noodles hanging out of his mouth as he tries to catch up with the other man’s thought process. Eventually, he slurps them up and snaps his fingers.

“Oh! Right! Speaking of that,” Joseph waggles his left hand and Caesar is concerned by the clicking noises that it produces. “I need my notepad back.”

Ah. Right. Caesar does remember taking that from him. Finding it in his back pocket, he places it in the outstretched hand. Joseph flips through it nonchalantly as he explains.

“Oh, so now you decide to ask?” He asks snidely. Caesar knows he deserves it, but it still pisses him off. He wants to tell him off, but Joseph is a bulldozer when it comes to conversations and cannot be stopped.

“Anyways, before you so kindly busted in and assaulted me, I was going to call their landlord for the guy his house probably has a gas leak. Like, duh, of course he’s not haunted. I can sense that shit too, Caesarino.”

“Don’t call me that. A gas leak. You think they’re getting carbon monoxide poisoning.”

“Wow, got it in one! Yeah, based on what he was saying about noises and hallucinations and shit. It’s either that or they got into some really shitty weed or something. Doesn’t hurt to check though.”

“Why didn’t you just tell them that? Why go through the effort of lying?”

Joseph finally stops thumbing through the notepad, having found the page he was looking for. He starts to type the phone number in his barely revived phone.

“You really think a guy like that is gonna listen if I tell him that it’s just a busted furnace? No way, he’s in too deep. It’s better if I lead him around with the carrot and stick schtick.”

Caesar can’t say he truly approves, but he can’t say that he doesn’t understand either. He watches as Joseph gets a hold of voicemail (it’s quite late at this point, too late for anyone to be working at this point) and leaves a concise message detailing the potential issues with the house.

With that, they polish off the rest of their meal, and with that, Joseph is paying for both of their dinners with a stupid generous tip. He tries to protest but Mika comes by and swipes the card with a smirk and wink, looking way too happy taking Joseph’s money, which the owner of the credit card brings up mournfully.

In return, she brings back his receipt with two bags of free desserts before they step out into the street.

Happy with a nice meal, there’s an easy smile on Joseph’s face as the wind ruffles his hair. He takes a large breath and his shoulders drop. Caesar stares, unable to take his eyes off the taller man and the moment he’s having. His eyes stare off into a distance far away and it wakes a strange flicker of panic in Caesar. He feels so, so far away. The younger man is barely inches away from him and yet it feels like he’ll never see him again. And it’s confusing because what should it matter if he never saw him again? He keeps telling himself that he doesn’t know this man, but that makes Caesar feel cold.

“Jojo.”

Joseph startles, coming back to himself. He turns toward Caesar with wide eyes which creases into warm crescents. It makes Caesar’s breath catch. But then he looks away again with a laugh in the distance and Caesar feels an acute disappointment. It lasts barely a second, but it still long enough for him to internalize the feeling.

“Sorry ‘bout that. Was thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Prick.”

They stand in silence for a couple more minutes until Joseph swings his bag over his shoulder.

“Well, I should be heading back. Got things to do, yeah?”

“Of course,” assignments and due dates flood Caesar’s mind. It’s odd to think of normalcy after everything happened today. It's a feeling that he gets every time he works on a case like this, but today is even odder considering the new... acquaintance he's made. 

“Well, see ya.”

For the second time that day, Caesar stares at Joseph’s back with his fingers flashing a double-fingered salute. This time though, it feels disturbingly final. The blond wants to reach out and do something, but there’s no reason to. So, he lets the moment pass, swiveling on his heels and returning to his place, feeling like he lost something he never really got to have.

He returns to his room, robotically places the dessert in the fridge, and takes a shower. Somehow, he ends up collapsed on his bed and knocks out.

Caesar doesn’t expect to dream.

He’s clutching, in horror, at half of Mark. There are three men who look like they’re from a different culture, a different era. He’s so angry that he feels his body could easily burst into flames. He knows they killed Mark. They also killed someone else so very important to him.

He has the same abilities. He fights with Hamon, his bubbles. He’s defeated by one of the men pathetically easily. It can barely be called a fight. The difference between their powers is overwhelming.

Then there’s Joseph. The man acts foolish, arrogant. He confronts the man, Wamuu. He almost dies. There’s a moment where he thinks Joseph is a coward, trying to save himself. But then he’s turning the tables, saving him and an old man by luring the Pillar Man away on an old cart.

He doesn’t know how long he runs in the caves, but he finds Joseph with the three Pillar Men. He watches two of them stab their hands into Joseph’s heart and throat respectively before disappearing in the night. Caesar runs up and cradles the other man in his arms. Newfound respect wells up in him. It’s mixed with exasperation, awe, confusion, fondness. He didn’t know it was possible to feel so many emotions in an instant.

He wakes, panting, hand covering his left eye. There’s sweat on his brow. A dull throb can be felt in his injured leg. But predominantly, he wonders what the hell that dream was about.

He calls Mark. He needs to make sure that he’s okay. That the dream wasn’t real.

There’s a huge relief when he answers, shaken from the night before, but alive.

He thinks about Joseph. His hands tremble. There’s no way to know how he’s doing. He doesn’t have his phone number. Does it even matter how he’s doing?

Something in his heart, betraying him, says that it does.

“’He hangs out in one of the lounges in the psychology building after three on Thursdays,’” Caesar whispers to himself.

Chapter Text

The following week is agonizing. Caesar feels like he could crawl out of his own skin with how restless he feels.

Caesar likes to think of himself as disciplined, a man with self-control. And yet, throughout the week, he’d notice himself fidgeting. He’d shake his leg, chew at his pencil, and shuffle in his seat. It feels like something’s buzzing underneath his skin. Ever since meeting Joseph, ever since having that goddamn dream, he feels like his world has tilted. Not turned upside down per se, but tilted, just enough, that it’s noticeable, just so that it can annoy him.

A couple of times, he wonders if all of it – even Joseph himself – was a dream.

An apparition sent to save him? A guardian angel?

The thought of the obnoxious, bulky man with wings and a halo makes him snort. That man is as angelic as mud is clear. No, Joseph is no ethereal being. He’s loud, full of himself, and eats like a pig. He’s solid, present. Or Caesar’s going crazy. And despite the combination of schoolwork, socializing, and fucking demon hunting as a part-time job, he’s completely sane.

But it never hurts to double-check once in a while.

…Merda, he’s never been so antsy about a goddamn Thursday in his entire life.

His final class of the day, physical chemistry, stretching from 2:00 to 3:30, feels like torture. Caesar swears he could feel every second of that one-and-a-half-hour class. He keeps staring at his watch, expecting at least half the time to have gone by but finding that only five minutes had passed. He can barely pay attention to lecture, scribbling notes down on what he remembered about his supernatural encounter instead of what the professor's talking about. Not only does he consider the demon’s capabilities (regeneration, high speed, sharp claws, incredible strength) but he also jotted down everything he knew about Joseph’s (Hamon, tracking – more like stalking, some technique that could bind and conduct Hamon –).

He needs to contact Maestra Lisa Lisa.

But first.

He needs to get to the psychology building.

He’s not hoping to see that idiot again. He’s not. He tells himself that it doesn’t matter if Joseph’s there or not. The dreams mean nothing. There’s no meaning to this feeling, this feeling of inevitability, of gravity and orbits.

But as he sprints toward the building, he can’t help but think, denial’s not a good look on you.

It’s not long before he’s in front of the building, hands on his knees, breathing heavily. Sweat cools on his back in the autumn air. Caesar takes care to try and compose himself, to try and even out his breathing. It wouldn’t do to let Joseph see him so uncomposed. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to ruffle it so it looks somewhat presentable. Anything to avoid looking like he’s desperate – which he is absolutely not.  

With a huff, he braces himself – God knows why, there’s no reason to – and makes his way to the lounge.

Without the anger that fueled him during his first visit, he can’t help but feel hesitant, standing in the hall outside, before the entrance. But he’s no coward. He sought this out. It’s just Joseph. So what if he can use Hamon and fight? It might be rare, but there are still people who can do it. He knows three others, now four. It’s not a big deal.

He steps through the threshold and feels ridiculous for even being the slightest bit on edge.

Splayed out on the couch, Joseph picks from some chocolate covered biscuits sitting on his chest while flipping through a volume of some manga, AirPods stuck in his ears. The couch almost disappears under his large frame. His legs stick out substantially over the edge. One of the feet swings like a pendulum to a beat only Joseph can hear.

Joseph suddenly jerks and Caesar flinches in response as the brunette’s face whips over to stare at him with wide eyes.

“Ohmf! Shiza!” Mamma mia, he’s talking with his mouth full! Taking the bone he’s been given, Caesar uses the irritation he’s feeling to march up and roughly ruffle the couch potato’s hair.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, you oaf!” He hisses.

“Caesar! Jeez, you're messing up my hair!”

“Your hair is always a mess stronzo!”

Joseph clumsily drops the volume, hands reaching for Caesar’s wrist in an attempt to get his hand off of him. He finally withdraws, feeling something comfortable slot in place. There’s a flash, a memory, or maybe a dream, of him reaching back from the passenger’s seat in an old car and ruffling a younger man’s hair. His lips are pursed into a pout.

The vision fades, and he’s left staring at a Joseph that looks superimposed to the one he just saw. His gloved hands move in a desperate attempt to tame his hair.

“You're so rough with me,” Joseph whines before realizing that for some reason, Caesar’s here. His face turns smug. “Do you have a case for me too Caesarino? Or did you just miss me that much?”

The blond can feel his face flush and prays that the other man doesn’t notice. “Vai a farti fottere. I’m only here to make sure you’re not scamming some other gullible kid.”

Gasping, Joseph brings a hand to his chest. “Hey, I never scammed anybody! I told you already, right? I was just… guiding him in the right direction!”

“Sure you were,” Caesar scoffs doubtfully.

“Whatever,” Joseph huffs as he pulls himself into an upright position. Caesar grimaces as crumbs fall off him and onto the floor. The taller man catches his phone, snacks and book, shifting to shove another biscuit in his mouth and remove one of the earbuds. He chews contemplatively before shooting a mischievous look toward the Italian. Taking another biscuit, Joseph holds it straight out in front of the older man’s face. Caesar stares at the snack with an arched eyebrow.

“Hey, say ‘ahhh.’”

Joseph watches in amusement as the man’s face warps from confused to embarrassed to annoyed.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“C’monnnn,” he waggles the cookie. “It’s really good, cross my heart!”

“Are you even religious?” Caesar tries to stall.

“Not really? But seriously, take it. Didn’t you just have class or something? You should eat.”

Caesar jumps slightly. “How did you know…”

“That you just had class? Your bag’s a bit open and your pen’s in your front pocket. Anyways, stop delaying and eat the damn cookie already. It’s gonna start melting!”

“Fine, if it’ll shut you up–!”

Without any further thought, Caesar leans down and snatches the snack with his teeth. He closes his eyes and chews thoughtfully, the chocolate melting slowly on his tongue, the biscuit crumbling between his teeth and leaving a second round of pleasant sweetness. He’s not going to admit it, but it is a good treat.

When he opens his eyes to take a glance at Joseph, he has a fond look in his eyes and a soft grin. His heart clenches. Just a little bit.

Satisfied with Caesar giving into his little game, the large man plops back down on the couch and says, “Oh, by the way, Anna texted me saying she was doing a lot better. A job well done with a five-star review.”

Caesar drops his bag and takes a seat in an armchair near Joseph’s head. “Ah, the lovely signorina. It’s good to hear that she’s recovering well.”

“Che. Once a Casanova, always a Casanova.”

That line sounds wrong. Or maybe it’s too right?

“What’s that supposed to mean, Jojo?”

He can’t help but notice that Joseph looks a little anxious. “Nothing, nothing! Don’t get mad Caesarino!”

Caesar hums, eyeing the other man with suspicion. But as if sensing that, Joseph quickly turns his attention back to his comic. In retaliation, the Italian reaches over and swipes another biscuit from Joseph’s chest before pulling out his laptop to work on some assignments, typing away.

He pauses when he feels eyes on him, lifting his head to lock his gaze with Joseph’s, who just smiles when he gets caught.

“You’re a giant nerd, aren’t you?”

“Better than being a bum who can only read manga. Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yeah, like in a week.”

A sigh slips by his lips. It fits, Joseph being a procrastinator, being lazy. It should annoy him, he hates irresponsible people. But it doesn’t seem fair to call Joseph merely irresponsible. He remembers Joseph carrying Mark and waiting for him at the hospital, the way he made tea when Anna was in distress. The way he fought for him.

What a frustrating man.

He turns back to his laptop when Joseph looks back at his choice of literature. The silence of the lounge only gets interrupted by the clicking of the keys and slow flipping of the pages. It’s comforting in a way he didn’t know it could be with someone who should be a complete stranger to him. Frankly, it’s a bit frightening, but he suppresses the slight panic at feeling so deeply and tries to immerse himself in his work.

It isn’t until his stomach alerts him to his hunger that he realizes how much time has passed. He packs up his things and watches Joseph do the same. The atmosphere from the lounge seems to follow them, wrapping them up in solace until they managed to get outside. Joseph sucks in an obnoxiously loud lungful of air. It’s crisp and pleasantly chilly, settling in his lungs. Caesar lights a cigarette, which Joseph looks at in distaste.

“Man, you have to just ruin the air with that stuff, don’t you?”

Giving him the finger, Caesar takes a deep breath, watching the smoke swirl in the air. Despite Joseph clearly not enjoying the smoke surrounding them, clear by the way he waves his hand in an attempt to disperse it, he doesn’t move from where he’s standing. He tells himself it means nothing.

He drops and snubs out the cigarette under his foot.

Joseph shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans once he’s done, twirls around to face him, and bumps his knuckles on Caesar's forehead before bouncing off, shouting from a distance, “See you around Caesar!”

Idiot, he thinks, ignoring the fact that the chill of the air seemed that much colder. Rubbing at his forehead, he goes trudges back home, mentally figuring out what he’s going to make for dinner. He tries to tell himself that this is enough, that Joseph is real. He doesn’t need anymore.

Of course, it’s never that easy. He keeps dreaming.

He’s looking through binoculars, watching in horror as Joseph fights one of the men who had caused Mark’s death on a field of spikes. The taller man is wearing a knit hat, crop top, and mask that looks like it belongs in a BDSM scene. He vaguely recognizes it as the mask that Lisa Lisa had made him wear long ago, when he first started to learn how to breathe for Hamon. He watches what looks like veins, filled with steaming blood last at his teammate. His face pales as Joseph falls, blood spurting out of the mask. Joseph’s moving around the spikes, his hat disappearing as he sets a trap, but Esidisi appears to be one step ahead, not giving his enemy any quarter. Veins fly everywhere, spitting steaming blood at Joseph. Another man calls to him, and he reluctantly rips his eyes away.

It’s Messina, and he says things that make fear flood through his veins. Loggins is dead. Joseph might fall. Esidisi could come after them next. They can’t help Jojo. He can’t help Jojo. They need to go.

He turns away from the scene, sending out a desperate, hopeful prayer.

★☆★☆★☆

“Was the case from two weeks ago your first?”

Joseph looks up from his statistics homework. There are scribbles of probability equations on his worksheet. Caesar’s just surprised that Joseph’s actually doing homework this time around. A due date must be coming up, probably within twenty-four hours if he had to hazard a guess. Joseph leans back into the cushions of the sofa, lacing his fingers behind his head, relaxed.

“Naw. Well, depends what you mean by first, but wasn’t the first real spirit case or fake one. Got into this gig because this one girl – she really had a mouth on her, damn, she could talk a person’s ear off – she was taking a psych class with me here. We were talking about anomalistic psychology and she swore up and down that ghosts were real and that she was being haunted. Which didn’t go down real well with the TA but it got me curious. Turns out that yeah, she’d done a stupid dare and gone to some graveyard on the other side of town and messed with the wrong grave. Ended up having to be a big ol' extermination. I mentioned she had a big mouth, yeah? Well, she ended up blabbing about me and here I am, on hire for any supernatural shit.”  

Letting the story soak in, Caesar stays quiet for a moment. Then he comments, “I don’t think you’re the one to talk about having a big mouth.”

“Hey! I’m not that bad!” Joseph shouts in what is decidedly not an indoor voice.

“Well, her mouth can’t have been that big considering how much business you seem to be having.”

“The way you say that you’d think that every building on campus had a murder in it.”

Caesar doesn’t retort, retreating into his own thoughts. He stared blankly down at the molecular structures in front of him. There’s little processing power going towards solving the problem which is incredibly frustrating. Even more infuriating is how much of his focus seems to be drawn to Joseph, an insane itch that he can’t scratch. He keeps feeling the need to check that Joseph is breathing, which is ridiculous. The younger man is right there. There’s no reason to be so fixated. He can only be glad that Joseph has yet to ask why Caesar seems to hellbent on hanging around (he’s not quite sure why himself).

Of course, Joseph doesn’t let him stew in his thoughts for too long (which is both a curse and a blessing). Now that Caesar’s broken his focus, he’s not willing to let the chance to procrastinate longer pass away. Joseph pushes off the sofa, placing his weight on his heels before walking over behind the armchair Caesar’s sitting on and leaning over his right shoulder. He can feel brown hair tickling his ears and Joseph quietly inhaling and exhaling through his nose. A warmth blossoms across his chest. No, stop that, stop him, this is an invasion of personal space! Summoning some reserved willpower, he smacks his hand into Joseph’s face, who yelps as he’s pushed back.

“Hey! What the hell was that for!” The man rubs at his nose with a pout that looks unreasonable on a kid who’s in college.

“You dumbass, do you have no sense of personal space?”

Joseph stops rubbing at his nose and smirks. “I’m sorry, did I burst your bubble,” he guffaws.

For that, Caesar throws his eraser and feels great satisfaction when it hits its mark on the taller boy’s forehead.

“Stop bothering me and get back to work.”

“I just wanted to see what you were working on! I don’t even know what your major is!”

Caesar freezes. This is getting dangerous. He wasn’t intending on getting personal with Joseph. This was going to be the last time he would come. First, he’d ask about his major, then it’d turn into questions about his family, then his history.

Joseph stands on his tiptoes and peers around Caesar’s shoulder again, the corner of a sideways “L” pressed up against his chin. Ridiculous, Caesar thinks.

“Ohhh, is that chemistry?”

He lets himself cave, just a bit. What harm could revealing his major do?

“Yes, I’m a chemistry major. Now, will you sit your ass back down and get back to work?”

“Eh? Aren’t you curious about me?” Joseph points a finger at himself.

“Not at all.”

“Damn. Didn’t even think about it for a second.”

“You’re like an open book Jojo,” Caesar can’t even deny to himself that he’s lying through his teeth, but damn if he won’t cave so easily.

“If I’m so easy to read, why don’t you guess what major I am, huh?”

Caesar glances at Joseph’s worksheet and sees the statistics questions Joseph was working with. He’s in the psychology building often enough that that could be the answer. Psychology definitely required statistics. Joseph also stayed in the psychology building all the time. One would think that would mean that he was a psychology major, but then Joseph wouldn’t have asked him to guess, it would’ve been too easy. He remembers though, despite the haze of anger that clouded his mind at the time, how Joseph maneuvered the student into believing what he wanted effortlessly. With the amount of shamelessness he had with public speaking and making a sales pitch, if Caesar had to guess –

“Business. You’re a business major.”

There’s a certain relish in watching a man who seems one step ahead of everyone else falter. The look of astonishment on Joseph’s face as he sputtered in shock was startlingly endearing. His lips purse and brows furrow together in annoyance at being caught at his own game. Though it’s Caesar’s turn to be surprised when Joseph’s face relaxes, morphing into a look that’s so soft that it could make someone’s heartbreak.

“Well if it had to be someone, at least it was you,” Joseph grins. “Good job. I’m a business major.”

The moment slips through his hand like grains of sand. He wants to retrieve it to bring back that look, but he’s afraid to dissect it, to think about why that expression does what it does to his insides. So he lets it go. “What did I say Jojo, you’re an open book.”

A wry smirk finds its way on the man’s lips. “Only to you, Caesarino. Only to you.”

Caesar tries to ignore the hidden meaning behind the words.

That night, he dreams of staring down at Joseph from a cliff, cold biting into his right hand as he stares down at Joseph with a soft smile, adrenaline, and fondness pumping through him, mixed with a feeling of triumph. He doesn’t know what had happened before that, but he remembers pulling the bigger man up and them laying in the snow, laughing.

★☆★☆★☆

It’s week four when a new case walks in. Caesar has since given up on trying to convince himself that his Thursdays after class are not going to be spent in the psychology lounge. Now he’s settled for telling himself that he’s just here to keep Joseph out of trouble. On a good day, he can partially believe that.

A couple walks in, looking worn out. Without prompting, Caesar leads them to the couches and Joseph brews some tea. There’s an aura coming off them that is without a doubt, supernatural in nature. They’ve been touched by something vile. He meets eyes with Joseph, and the younger man gives a nod of acknowledgment. Good, he can see it too. The blond prompts them into telling their story as Joseph sets two mugs down in front of the couple and one in front of Caesar. He whips his head up to fine Joseph flashing a cheeky smile before taking a seat to get the rest of the story. Unwilling to let the drink go to waste, he brings up the mug to take a sip and is pleasantly surprised by the calming scent of lavender. He can’t help but enjoy the moment, the tea warming his throat and enveloping him with a gentle warmth that makes him shiver just a bit.

The couple seems to appreciate the tea as well. It makes their shoulders relax, just a bit. They explain how they’ve been hearing a horrible screeching at night, which has only been getting louder by the day. However, when they asked their neighbors, no one else seemed to have heard anything. Caesar already has a hunch brewing in his mind. Joseph manages to get an address and permission to visit their apartment.

After they leave, Joseph cocks an eyebrow towards his companion. “Already got it solved huh?”

Joseph has gotten good at reading him in a month. Or has Joseph just always been good at reading people?

Caesar goes for another sip of tea and is disappointed to find that the bottom of his mug is empty. Joseph, looking amused at Caesar’s yearning for more tea, indulges him, walking back over to the electric kettle to brew another cup. As Joseph sets upon that task, Caesar explains what he thinks the true culprit of this particular case is.

“It’s most likely a banshee.”

As he steeps the tea, Joseph remarks, “Banshees? Those are like – lady ghosts that scream right?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Caesar’s glad that Joseph’s brewing another cup because he’s going to need it. Sometimes he forgets that despite Joseph’s wit and cunning, he’s a lazy idiot.

“I can’t believe you’re hunting the supernatural without a basic understanding of what are probably the most common ones.”

Approaching with a huff, he still hands Caesar his tea, even though he feels like he should just take it back and chug it down himself since the blond is being a lil’ prick right now. He weighs if the burn on his tongue and not being able to taste right for the next day or two would be worth it – coming to the conclusion that it probably would be at the moment but that his future self probably wouldn’t think so considering how good food is.

“Hey, it’s not like I interviewed for this or anything so explain it to me, oh sage of heebie jeebie wisdom. Please impart on ignorant little ol’ me your nuggets of sparkly, sparkly knowledge.”

Unable to fight the urge to roll his eyes, Caesar starts his explanation. “Banshees are said to be a fairy spirit that will wail at night and are said to predict the death of a family member of the person that heard them. They may also warn of potential dangers that could result in the death of the listener.”

In the middle of Caesar’s speech, Joseph had pulled out a fidget spinner and was tossing the spinning toy from one hand to the other because he is a giant man-child. “So the banshee isn’t really the problem.”

“Most likely not.”

“There’s a ‘but’ there, and I’m guessing not the nice kind.”

“I doubt that this banshee will attack us, but the existence of it could mean that they’re in danger.”

“So this ain’t as much of a supernatural case as much as it’s a bodyguard job now. Fuckin’ hell, we’re gonna have to camp out there until something happens to them aren’t we?”

Part of Caesar feels touched at being included in the madness that is Joseph’s life. The logical part of him screams that there’s a midterm coming up in two weeks and various assignments in between.

Just to be contrary, Caesar asks, “What makes you think I’ll be coming along?”

“Gotta make sure I don’t scam give ghost hunters a bad name or something, right?” Joseph throws back.

Caesar cringes. “I am not a ghost hunter and you certainly are not one either.”

“What would you call it then?”

Really, Caesar’s not sure what to call – whatever the hell they’re doing. With more confidence than he feels, he says, “Supernatural investigators.”

Joseph’s face pinches up, but realizing that there’s some business to take care of, he forces his expression into something less disdainful. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and unlocks it, handing it to the older man. Green eyes stare blankly at the cracked screen in front of him. Joseph gives it a little waggle as he holds out his empty right hand.

“We should have each other’s numbers so we can figure out when to meet up.”

He wonders if it’s wise to give Joseph his phone number.

“Oh my God, I can hear you thinking. What do you think I’m gonna do, send you dick pics?” Joseph looks pensive. “Actually, that would be pretty fucking funny.”

Snatching the phone, Caesar tries to cut off this particular train of thought before it becomes a pain in his ass. “Don’t you fucking dare coglione. Nobody needs, nor wants, to see your dick.”

“What you trying to say? I’ll have you know that my dick –“

Caesar slaps him with his phone to shut him up, who reacts with a loud squawk. Grabbing the device, Joseph quickly types in his number.

Later that night, he gets a text.

Jo Joe⭐ [12:16 AM]: boo 👻

Caesar absolutely does not spend the rest of the night reprimanding the man-child on the other side of the phone for sending such dumb texts.

★☆★☆★☆

Squatting on the sidewalk, right hand in a bag of chips, Joseph stares up at the apartment complex. He turns a wistful gaze to his companion, watching as his blond hair flutters in the night breeze. A streetlight hangs over them, casting enough light for the other man to get some studying done. Joseph yawns wide enough that it almost looks like his jaw will unhinge.

Multitasking is a necessary skill for surviving university. Caesar’s mind is trained on the problems in front of him but he’s still conscious of the warmth of the arm pressing up against his. It’s oddly grounding.

He doesn’t want to break the silence. Quiet moments like this without Joseph’s voice filling the background with his stream of consciousness can be hard to experience. It’s too easy to fall into the mistake of nitpicking something that younger man is doing and letting it become an all-engaging debate that can jump from one topic to the next quicker than you could blink.

When Joseph’s head starts to nod though, he can’t help but comment, “How can you even think about falling asleep in a situation like this?”

Placing his head on his hand, Joseph yawned wide once more, tearing up a bit. “It’s just so boring. And besides, won’t the banshee just wake me up with her screaming anyways?”

Giving a slightly mournful glance to his homework – he has a sinking feeling that it’ll be a while before he gets back to it again – Caesar readies himself to give a lecture.

“We don’t know that for sure, moron. It’s said that banshees only reveal themselves to family members. Who knows if we’ll be able to hear her, let alone see her, despite our abilities.”

“Ehhh~? How troublesome.”

The brunette stares up at the sky, gears meshing, and turning in his mind. For a second, Caesar thinks that he might be able to get back to work when Joseph whips out his phone, pointing it at the apartment complex. He opens the camera app and says clearly, “Hermit Purple.”

Invisible to Caesar, purple vines wrap around the phone and imbed themselves. Caesar watches in concern as sparks fly off the phone and Joseph’s hand is dragged unnaturally around, spinning like a  pendulum, calibrating some location. The sound of a shutter going off slices through the temporary quiet.

Joseph brings his phone to his face, narrowing his eyes as he scans the image. Finding what he’s looking for with a triumphant, aha, he pinches at the screen to zoom into something.

Finally, he passes his phone, motioning for Caesar to look.

With a roll of his eyes, he takes the phone, feigning disinterest. Still, when he sees the picture, his eyes widen and his breath catches all on its own.

There’s the silhouette of a pale woman with striking fiery hair flowing behind her. It’s hard to tell if the backlit glow around her is caused by the moonlight or some paranormal cause. He releases a shaky breath as he passes the phone back to its owner. Caesar tries to fix his expression into something stern.

“One day – you’re going to explain to me exactly what it is that you can do.”

A slimy smile peeks out from where Joseph’s hand covers his mouth. It makes Caesar want to rip all the guy’s hair out by the fistful. This man is going to turn Caesar prematurely gray.

Turning away from Joseph, Caesar channels his Hamon into his eyes and ears, curious if it will help him see what he saw in the picture. The view becomes clearer. He can see a fuzzy outline of what resembles a human figure and a blur of reds and whites but nothing crisp. There’s a high-frequency hum that his ears start to catch, but nothing that can be considered wailing.

They stay out until one in the morning when Caesar can no longer see the hazy vision of a woman. Standing up, Caesar decides to take one last cigarette break before starting to trudge back to his own apartment. Joseph takes a couple of steps back from him – Caesar attributes it to the younger man trying to avoid the smoke and ignores him for staring up at the clouds instead –  but the sound of a shutter proves him wrong. His head snaps to look at the sheepish man who is currently hiding behind his phone.

“Did you just take a picture of me?!”

Joseph cringes. “Damn I really need to remember to silence my phone.”

Caesar makes a grab for him, the filter of the cigarette getting crushed between his now clenched teeth. “Delete it now stronzo!”

“No way! The lighting from the street is super nice and everything! I have a good eye for composition you know!”

“You’re not going to have an eye for anything by the time I’m done with you!”

“Eeeep! So scary!”

He ends up basically chasing Joseph back into campus. The man, despite his bulk, is surprisingly agile, avoiding his hands and switching up his phone’s location on his person.

Caesar gets a text later that night of the picture that Joseph took. It’s odd to see. Joseph captured his profile, illuminated by the streetlight, smoke from his cigarette curling up into the night sky. The road fades out behind him and the mixed color of the changing leaves peaks out behind him thanks to the light.

He definitely does not save it to his phone.

CAZ [2:50 AM]: If I see this anywhere online I will find you and end you.

Jo Joe ⭐ [2:56 AM]: i just wanted a contact pic :(

★☆★☆★☆

They meet up a bit earlier than they did the day before. Joseph texts him saying that he’s at a nearby coffee shop. Caesar finds him outside the place sucking up a drink that looks like it has enough sugar to get a child bouncing off the walls. There should not be that much whip cream and syrup on a drink. Which is… not ideal for a man like Joseph. In his other hand is another caffeinated beverage, but a hot one by the looks of it. Once he makes eye contact with the giant oaf, he can’t help but scold him.

“What is that abomination, is that even coffee? Why are you drinking something cold? The temperature has been dropping recently. And two drinks? You’re going to be jittery and be taking bathroom breaks all night!”

Joseph stares blankly at him and with a straight face, then looks at his watch, careful not to spill the drinks, before turning back at him. “It took you less than thirty seconds after seeing me to start nagging me. Damn Caesar, are you trying to break some sort of record?  And to answer your questions –“ Joseph sticks out one finger from the hand holding on to the frappuccino. “One, it has caffeine. Who cares? If we’re gonna be up all night hoping to hear some screaming ghost lady, I need all the help I can get. Yesterday was rough enough. Two, I kinda wanted ice cream but wanted a coffee too so here we are.” Caesar wants to protest that it really doesn’t address his concerns but Joseph barrels through, holding out three fingers now, the plastic cup hanging precariously, held up by a pinky and thumb. “As for your last question –“ Caesar blinks as the hot drink is thrust in front of him. “If you would’ve just given me a goddamn minute before nagging me, you would’ve known that this is for you, asshole.”

The soft oh, tumbles off his lips without his consent and he mentally gives himself a slap for being so taken aback by the gesture. Still, his hands reach out to take the gift, the heat of it pleasant on his palms. He remembers then that Joseph must have paid for this and reaches for his wallet but is stopped by the younger man who remarks tells him, “Naw, you don’t need to pay me back. I’m getting paid with some entertainment. You haven’t even tried it yet. Wanted to see if I could guess what you’d like.”  

The blond frowns at that but reluctantly acquiesces, taking a careful sip. His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. It’s a cappuccino with the slightest bit of sugar. The foam sits lightly on his tongue before fading away to reveal the creamy and slightly bitter bite of espresso underneath. It’s not his usual, but he can’t deny that it’s good, especially as the breeze picks up around them. He won’t give Joseph that satisfaction though. Instead, he reaches up and ruffles the other man’s brown locks.

“…It’s okay.”

Joseph looks affronted. “Bullshit! They have great coffee here!”

“You didn’t even get a coffee; I don’t think you’re allowed to judge.”

“Oh get off your high horse you fuckin’ purist. What frappe hurt you?”

“All of them. Because they’re all abominations.”

While continuing to bicker, they start moving away from the cafe and toward their client’s apartment, opting to take a seat at a nearby bench this time instead of at the sidewalk. They end up getting there later than the night before thanks to Joseph’s coffee break – but the night is quiet. Caesar focuses his Hamon and finds the blurred vision of a nymph-like woman affixed at the same spot as the night before. Since they’re nothing but sitting ducks until some threat appears, the chemistry student decides to go for another study session, deciding to be productive will the caffeine is still running through his system. Joseph groans at the sight of work. Instead, he fiddles around with his phone, pulling up what looks to be a comic app. Eventually, though, even Joseph succumbs to the gravity of being a university student and pulls out his laptop to work on his own assignments.

Caesar almost forgets the situation they’re in, engrossed in his work as the clacking of Joseph’s keys falls into the background.

So, of course, that’s when a high-pitched, bone reverberating screech breaks the silence, trying to blow out their eardrums. He watches Joseph flinch and fling his laptop out of his hands before panic sets in his eyes and he catches it before it falls, cradling it to his chest. In any other situation, he would have laughed but he’s too busy trying to cover his ears, clenching his eyes shut at the intensity of the sound.

Caesar manages to crack his eyes open enough to make eye contact with Joseph, who gives a nod. They start sprinting up the stairs to the third floor. Forgoing any tact and sophistication, Joseph slams the door open with his foot.

Caesar’s seen the leftovers of when a demon decides to knock on some unfortunate victim’s door. He’s seen so much brutality in his life. Still, there’s something different about the way humans will inflict harm upon each other that feels so much more brutal than something that a monster can do. It’s not the fact that it’s more bloody, it’s more that it’s horrifying to think that someone of the same species can have so much malice for their own. Or at least, that’s how he feels when he sees a man choking out the woman who had given them this case in the living room, her boyfriend knocked out in a pool of his own blood on the floor.

The criminal’s head snaps up to direct a crazed gaze at them. It gives the woman below him some temporary relief, which Caesar can’t help being thankful for. Without even a glance at each other, he knows Joseph’s next move. He still doesn’t know how Joseph’s moves work, but he knows what the result will be.

The insane man leaps at them, probably trying to dispatch of them. How stupid. Even if Joseph wasn’t here, he’s sure he could take this man easily. He doesn’t know Joseph’s full capabilities, but he has a feeling that the other man is also strong enough to take care of this asshole easily. Still, he can’t say there’s not something nice about having someone to watch your back.

As expected, the man barely takes two steps before his leg is pulled out underneath him and he slams down on his back, a knife he pulled out hanging in the air. Caesar quickly closes the distance before he has the chance to get up and delivers a hard, Hamon-charged punch to put him to sleep.

After that, the rest of the night is a blur. Joseph finds something to bind the criminal up with while Caesar calls for the hospital and police to get the couple help. They go through a police interrogation, answering as many questions as they can, and by the time it’s all over, his head feels fuzzy from the lack of sleep. Joseph doesn’t seem to be holding up too much better, nodding off in the police car as an officer drives them back to campus. He makes the impulsive decision to tell the officer to just drop them both off at his apartment. Luckily, he gets a name and number to call if he needs to be excused from classes or exams, not that he really thinks he’ll use it, but it’s a good card to play if he needs it.

The officer offers his help in getting Joseph up after looking at all 195 centimeters of him, but Caesar waves him off. He lightly slaps Joseph’s face a couple of times to get him somewhat conscious. The brunette comes to with a grumble, still half-asleep. Somehow, he manages to get up the stairs with Joseph’s arm slung around his shoulders and nose burrowing in his neck. He’s so clingy, Caesar can’t help but think. Once he unlocks the door to his place, Joseph gets tossed on the sofa after getting his shoes off. The blond manages to get the now snoring man an extra blanket before he gets ready for bed. It’s a herculean effort.

---

He’s woken by the buzzing of the alarm on his phone that tells him it’s time for class. With a groan, he rolls out of bed, feeling like he’s barely slept. Still, he’s had worse nights. He stumbles to the washroom to take a shower. It’s while he’s brushing his teeth that he remembers Joseph stayed the night. He peeks out of the bathroom with his toothbrush sticking out of his mouth and is relieved to see the man is still where he left him, dreaming.  

Unfortunately, since he has classes, it means it’s time for Joseph to wake up as well. Once Caesar is prepared to leave, he gives the brunette’s shoulders a shake to get him up, muttering in his breath in Italian about what a big baby he is. Lucky for him, Joseph rises with little complaint, rubbing and his bleary eyes. Being sleep-addled makes him more compliant and quiet, which is a first in his company. Even when Joseph isn’t speaking, his presence is loud, but in the morning, everything seems more muted about him. If he had more time, he’d walk the taller man home, but as it is, he’s going to barely make it to class. He tells him to let him know once he gets home, double-checking that he’d remember. Joseph responds with a tiny, mhmm, which is probably the best that Caesar’s going to get.

He’s relieved when he gets a text not fifteen minutes later that simply says, home. It’s doubtful that the business major would be going to any classes today - if he had to bet. He probably wasn’t going to be hearing more from the other man for the next couple of hours.

As expected, the next text comes in four hours when the other man has obviously regained some more processing power and possibly caffeine.

Jo Joe⭐ [12:18 PM]: holy shit did i fall asleep at ur place last night?

Jo Joe⭐ [12:18 PM]: yikes man i owe you one

CAZ [12:19 PM]: Consider it thanks for the coffee

CAZ [12:19 PM]: Don’t expect it again tho

Jo Joe⭐ [12:20 PM]: dude ur such a softy

Jo Joe ⭐ [12:20 PM]: but srsly thanks

Jo Joe ⭐ [12:21 PM]: i prob would’ve gotten hit by a car or smthing if i tried walking home

Jo Joe⭐ [12:21 PM]: and like been there done that no thx

CAZ [12:22 PM]: wait what

Jo Joe⭐ [12:22 PM]: story for another time gonna go get lunch

CAZ [12:23 PM]: Jojo you cannot just say you got hit by a car and say “another time” WTF

CAZ [12:28 PM]: JOSEPH

Chapter Text

They only see each other on Thursdays again which is… fine. There’s no reason for them to be joined at the hip. Besides, Caesar has more important things to take care of. There’s an exam upcoming, assignments to finish. Lisa Lisa has sent him more readings and training regimens to incorporate into his schedule. She seems interested in having a new paper out on the history of vampires and all variations thereof (strigoi, vrykolakas, mandurugo, etc etc). He has a date lined up too, which means his entire night is going to be shot.

So, it’s fine. There’s no reason to wish to spend any more time with Joseph. He’ll have a lovely woman in his arms and bed anyway. The stupid man and the dreams plaguing him would be the last thing on his mind.

Of course, because his brain is the fucking worst, even after a great time, Joseph’s still all he can think and talk about anymore. He complains about his frustrations with the fact that he can’t find the teas that Joseph makes in the psychology lounge and how it drives him insane, how Joseph never does his assignments on time and somehow manages to wiggle a goddamn extension from a professor known for being a hard ass, and how the man is a horrible cheat at poker.

“First of all, you also cheat at poker, so it’s a bit like – what’s the saying? Pot, meet kettle?”

He huffs at Suzi Q over the phone. “That’s not the point. He’s infuriating.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think this is the most you’ve talked about anyone besides Lisa Lisa. I think it’s good for you. It’s funny hearing someone ruffle your feathers so much.”

“Don’t you dare compare him to Maestra Lisa Lisa.”

“I’m just glad you’re making friends. You need a better social circle.”

Caesar doesn’t know whether to feel insulted at the implication that he has no friends or that Suzi is claiming that Joseph is his friend. “He’s not my friend. He’s an annoyance, a splinter I can’t get out,” he frowns. “– And I have friends.”

“Mark, me, and one-night stands don’t make a social circle Caesar. Besides, you let him stay over at your place. He made you tea. You’ve solved cases and played poker together. I don’t know about you, but that sounds like you’re friends to me.”

Sure, they hang out, but it is always Caesar who comes to the lounge, and unless there is some case, the two of them have yet to do anything that shows their relationship to be beyond some odd business-slash-work acquaintances. He doesn’t want to analyze his insecurities too much though, afraid of what he’ll unearth.

Suzi sighs as Caesar wallows in his thoughts.

“Will you bring him to Air Supplena? He’s like you and Lisa Lisa right?”

The blond thinks about it. There’s a lot of emotion swirling at the idea of it. He can’t even gather the nerve to socialize with the other man, let alone drag him along on a long-ass boat ride to an island to introduce him to his surrogate mother and sister figures. Not to mention…

“He won’t be staying long. He’ll be going back to his country by the end of the semester.”

“Oh… Well, even more reason to invite him! I want to meet this legendary guy before he leaves. I’m sure Lisa Lisa would be interested in meeting someone else who can see ghosts like you can.”

Caesar snorts. He can’t find it in him to ever be annoyed with Suzi. “I’ll consider it.” He thinks about introducing Joseph to his Maestra and wants to laugh because Joseph is just so boisterous and loud whereas Lisa Lisa is the definition of elegance and composure.

“Take care of yourself, Caesar. We’ll see you soon right?”

“You too, Suzi Q. And yes, I’ll come around soon.”

★☆★☆★☆

Mark’s eyes glitter in amusement as Caesar goes on about how Joseph dragged him into the most recent case they solved together with the couple being plagued by banshees. The look prompts Caesar to stop mid-rant to glower at him.

“What?”

To his irritation, Mark snickers. “I’m just glad that I could pay you back by being wingman to you and your new best friend.”

Automatically, the chemistry student replies, “He’s not my friend.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“He’s not. We’re just… colleagues with the same goal.”

Mark makes a skeptical noise in his throat.

“We just take on any supernatural problems together, that’s all.”

A flat look. “Caesar, I never see you on Thursdays anymore. Your afternoon before dinner is always blocked out.”

Green eyes flash away, avoiding eye contact. “Never know if there’s going to be a case coming in or not.”

“Oh man, the great Caesar Antonio Zeppeli, playboy extraordinaire, brought down by a sophomore international boy.”

It’s not like Caesar ever said he was any good at making friends. Unlike Suzi, it’s easier to get irritated with Mark. “Don’t say it like I’m trying to whoo him,” he snaps.

“Aren’t you though? It’s just a platonic variation this time around.”

Caesar buries his face in his hands and groans.

“Really though Caesar, just get some drinks with him or something if this is bothering you so much. He’s willing to work with you and he never kicks you out of your little Thursday dates, so there’s no reason to think he’ll say no. Honestly, I don’t get why you’re so worked up about this.”

Easy for Mark to say. Nothing the German man is saying is particularly wrong. It’s all completely logical. If he didn’t know Joseph, that’s what he’d think as well. But he thinks about how his fellow Hamon user will just barge through all conventions of personal space, and yet never asks for anything more. It’s like there’s a wall that Joseph refuses to breach, which seems contradictory considering his complete lack of regard for any boundaries when it comes to following his own whims. Joseph Joestar does not seem like a man willing to deny himself anything he wants. So considering that Joseph’s never asked, Caesar can only assume…

Mark’s eyes turn sympathetic, realizing how much this is eating his friend up inside. He tries for a joke. “If he doesn’t want to be friends with you, it’s his loss. If this doesn’t work out, we’ll go out to a bar and I’ll play wingman for you.”

He tries to offer up a smile. It’s pretty weak and quite frankly pathetic considering how charismatic he knows he can be.  

★☆★☆★☆

The Thursday is a quiet one, though there’s a certain intensity filling the air as Joseph frantically types away on his laptop, sitting cross-legged on the floor instead of on the couch for once, eyes crazed. He must be near a deadline. Knowing the fool, he likely procrastinated until this very moment. Caesar is somewhat thankful for it, as it allows him to mull over his own assignments and thoughts in silence. Not to mention, something about seeing Joseph so engaged in his work makes the blond want to work equally as hard, which further distracts him from all the useless thoughts swirling in his head.

It’s nearly 5:30 when Joseph raises his hands in the air with a loud whoop. He slams the laptop shut with enough force that it makes Caesar flinch and proceeds to let his forehead fall on top of the cover.

The blond reaches out to smack the other man on the shoulder. “Merda, treat your laptop better you dolt!”

Caesar’s taken aback when wild, mussed hair turns away to reveal too bright green-blue eyes and an impossibly endearing grin.

“But Caesar, Caesarino~, I’m finally done, I’m free~”

Joseph seems punch drunk on the elation of having finished his assignment. Caesar can’t resist running his hand through the brunette’s hair. Joseph nuzzles into the touch like a puppy and his heart does a concerning flip.

He thinks about the conversations he had with Suzi and Mark, wonders if they might have a point.

As if the fates were granting him an opportunity, Joseph’s stomach rumbles and the man complains about how he’s gonna have to choose a place to get takeout. Caesar mentally calculates how much pasta he has leftover for the dinner he was planning to make tonight.

“You need to stop procrastinating on your work,” he mentions as an afterthought. “ – and you should stop eating out so much. It’s not healthy. It’s expensive as well.”

“I know, meal planning’s hard, and I hate hard work.”

“You’re hopeless.” Well, it’s now or never. “Joseph –“

“Are you Joseph Joestar?”

The man in question snaps his head up to face the doorway. An unassuming-looking man, by all definitions, quite plain looking, stands there. He’s quite polite and composed looking, despite the reasons people typically come to seek out Joseph. There’s nothing that gives away his nerves except for the strain and bruises on his eyes.

Joseph raises a hand and replies, “Yeah, that’s me. What’d’ya need?”

The new client looks skeptical, as they always do. He’s not surprised. He was not long ago in the same boat after all, and it’s not like Joseph particularly inspires any sort of professionalism. There are some days even Caesar wonders if Joseph is the real deal, or somehow pulling the wool over his eyes.

The student runs a hand over his tired eyes, shoulders slumping. “You know what, never mind. It was a temporary lapse in judgment. I’m sorry, I’m tired, I never should’ve come here–“

When he puts his mind to it, Joseph can move quite fast. In a moment, he’s behind the student, giant hands falling on smaller shoulders, guiding the man to the sofa, chattering away.  

“Now, now, even more reason for you to sit down and have some nice, calming tea. If you’re tired, we can get some caffeine in you. Black’ll be your best bet. I’ve got everything in here from English Breakfast to Assam to Lapsang. Personally, I like mine with some milk but I don’t judge.”

As Caesar listens to Joseph give a full-blown lecture on tea, he can’t help but think, only a Briton. He lets the slight bitterness he feels over the lost opportunity get carried away with Joseph’s chatter, idly wondering how many teas this man tucked away in the little lounge cabinet.

He crosses his legs and places his laced hands on his knee, looking over at the weary-looking student. Might as well get to the point.

“So, you’re having some issues then? Some events that just can’t seem to be explained by logical or scientific means?”

The student looks to Joseph who meets his eyes with his own teal ones and flashes a cheeky smirk as he steeps the tea. “Oh him? He’s my sidekick. Think of him as the Watson to my Holmes.”

“Chiudi quella cazzo di bocca,” he sneers at Joseph. “I am no such thing. If anything, I’m better than him.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night. Anyways, go ahead and talk if you want, I’m almost done over here.”

Their guest also laces his hands together, but rests his forehead on top of them, hunched over and staring at the ground as he begins his story.

“I have a friend. He’s been in the hospital for a while. I always go to visit him when I have time. He’s been taking classes online with our university but he’s been hoping to come back soon. I really thought he was too, he was getting a lot better. He told me the doctors told him that he’d be out in a couple of weeks but that was about two months ago. Instead, he’s been getting sicker and sicker. I would’ve thought that it was just his illness recurring, but the doctors could find nothing. He was healthier but he wasn’t.”

Joseph brings over two mugs, one for their guest and one for Caesar, as is their usual nowadays before taking his regular spot on the sofa. Their client breathes in the scent of the tea deeply, trying to stay his shaking hands.

“I’m guessing there’s more to the story if a serious guy like you is here though.”

The student nods and pushes on in his story. “It would’ve been one thing if it was just my friend, but I started to hear the nurses gossiping about how other patients were starting to experience the same problem. Then relatives would come in and I’d hear them crying about how their family members were getting worse, not better. Still, I was skeptical, I thought it was just a coincidence.”

He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes glazing over as he recalls a turning point. “But then I went there one day and – God, this is going to sound ridiculous – I felt so, so cold. I thought they just turned up the AC early this year or something. The closer I got to my friend, the more and more lightheaded I got. The closest thing I could think of is feeling like I was drowning. I thought I was going to faint. I felt bad about it, but I couldn’t meet my friend. I had to get out of there. I’m not a believer in the superstitious but the feeling I got there was… inhuman. It’s stupid, but I felt like I was in danger, I couldn’t get out fast enough.”

The man scoffs at himself, pressing his palms on his eyes. “Really, I didn’t even come here expecting anything. I just wanted to tell someone.”

Caesar feels a pull of pity for the man who looks so wrung out. The only small consolation in all this is that he can see the touch of something the lingering of something like miasma clouding around him, pulsing and leeching weakly at his energy. He’s shocked by how strong it seems to be despite the short amount of time he claims to have been at the hospital.

This feels dangerous, much more so than the other cases they’ve been on.

An entire hospital’s worth of energy is most likely serving as a feast for a demon of high caliber. An incredibly unfavorable situation. He glances at Joseph, wondering if the other man understands the potential gravity of this case, but the man looks no different than usual. He’s attentive to the client, but no more so compared to the rest of the clients they’ve had. Then again, he’s talking about the man who didn’t even know what a banshee was, so this could just be ignorance.

The student ends up leaving after finishing his tea, politely thanking them for their time. It seems like the guy really has no expectations of them. However, Joseph looks contemplative. Caesar has no doubt that the man will go after this case, much like a dog will go after a bone.

They clean up their mugs and head outside, lingering around the entrance of the psychology building like they do every Thursday. He lights a cigarette and Joseph lingers, despite his nose scrunching up in childish distaste.

One day, he’ll ask the other man why he sticks around for this little ritual of theirs even when he clearly has little fondness for it. But not today.

The moment he’s about to drop his cigarette to snuff it out under his shoe, a low rumble catches his attention, and his eyes dart over to see Joseph hunched over, clutching his stomach. He arches an eyebrow, confused and concerned.

“…Jojo?”

The man in question turns to give the most childishly pitiful pout he’s ever seen. It’s incredibly unbecoming.

“Caesar… I’m so hungry!” He wails.

This fucking man. The blond rubs at the bridge of his nose. But then he remembers what he was going to ask before they got their new case and he’s filled with the energy of a second wind. He tries to keep his voice level and neutral as he lets the cigarette slip from his fingers, crushing the remains with his heel.

“Come on then. I’ll make you something back at my place.”

There’s silence as Joseph stares up at him with wide eyes, looking stunned. Anxiety grips him. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. This was a mistake, Suzi and Mark had been wrong –

Joseph’s right hand cups the same-sided cheek as he looks at him mischievously, looking smug. “A home-cooked meal made by Caesarino himself~? I’m being spoiled!”

The amount of relief that floods his chest is definitely abnormal but god does it feel good.

---

“Ahh, it smells so good~!”

“Are you a dog?”

Caesar tries to get Joseph to sit down in the living room while he cooks, but Joseph seems determined to follow him around and watch. At first, he felt embarrassed and kept trying to kick him out of the kitchen, but Joseph seemed genuinely interested in just watching him. It reminded Caesar of his little sisters and brothers, and with that thought along with Joseph’s stream of chatter, he manages to settle into this turn of events.

“Caesar’s really used to cooking. Did someone teach you?”

The man in question pauses while stirring the pot. He doesn’t like talking about his circumstances. He doesn’t like the sickly-sweet words of pity that usually follow. So he keeps it simple. “I’m the oldest in my family. My parents were busy. I had four younger siblings, so I got used to cooking.”

Hmm, is that so, Joseph murmurs. Caesar counters while Joseph digests his answer.

“What about you?”

“It’s just me and my granny. She’s the best! I can’t wait to see her again when this semester is over. I also have – I guess an uncle? Doesn’t matter. He’s family. That’s all that matters.”

Ignoring the pang at the reminder that Joseph’s time in Italy is limited, Caesar aims a light-hearted jab. “A single child huh. No wonder you act like a little bambino. I bet you can’t cook to save your life.”

“Haah?! Take that back playboy!”

“Who’s a playboy? I’m polite! I treat all women like they deserve to be treated!”

“Sure, flirt.”

They bicker all the way to the dining table. The words they toss at each other, though acerbic, seem more like a dance rather than an argument.

Joseph salivates at the sight and aroma of the dish in front of him. Caesar thinks the dish is fairly simple and homey in all honesty, but the way the brunette groans after taking a bite, you would think that it’s a Michelin three-star meal.

“Damn that’s good,” Joseph moans.

“You must have been starving if it’s that good.”

“Nah, Caesar’s just that good of a cook. I should hire you.”

“No thanks, it would be hell working for you. You can’t afford me anyway.”

“Hey, what are you saying about your ghost hunting partner in crime!”

“I told you not to call it ghost hunting – !”

Caesar brings his own fork to his mouth as Joseph goes into the dish no holds barred. He’s calmer than the ravenous man and takes the time to observe him while he’s distracted. Something about this situation feels right, and he’s glad that the offer to dine together wasn’t rejected. The price of cooking is nothing to the fulfillment of victory he feels at bringing the distance between them closer. Still, his eyes follow Joseph’s hands as he loops up the threads of pasta.

“Hey, Jojo.”

A muffled reply somewhat resembling his name and “what” is given.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. I was just going to ask if it isn’t hot with those gloves on.”

The man glanced at the gloves as if to say, ‘oh, these?’ before swallowing.

“Naw, I’m used to it. Feel weird without them, honestly. It’s like the teddy bear or childhood blankie I can’t get rid of.”

Caesar wonders if Joseph would be offended if he asked why. Most likely, he would use his words to parry away anything he didn’t want to reveal. With that in mind, he takes a stab.

“Why do you wear them?”

“Would you believe me if I said my hands are too pretty?”

The disappointment bites. “Asshole, just say you don’t want to answer the question.”

“A man’s gotta have an air of mystery Caesarino. Otherwise, I’d be boring. But if you’re so curious…”

Joseph moves his left hand and uses it to remove the glove on his right. What lies underneath is a large, rough, but overall ordinary hand. He twists it playfully under the light, flashing his nails at one point. A wink is given. “What do you think? Beautiful isn’t she?”

Caesar snorts. “Five out of ten.”

“Excuse me?!”

“So you just wear gloves for absolutely no reason then?”

“I don’t know, I’ve been wearing them for so long that it’s just weird without them.”

With a sigh, Caesar decides to drop it. It’s obvious that all he’s going to get are half-answers which will just keep them spinning in this conversation all night. As much as Joseph claims that a man needs to have an aura of mystery, this man has too much fucking mystery that it’s more frustrating than charming.

“So let me ask you something then. Why a chemistry degree?”

A little taken aback by the switch, Caesar takes a bite of his food to think and regain his composure.

“I’ve always had a head for science.”

“Yeah, you got the soap thing going on.”

“I also have a mentor that I respect. I want to teach as she taught me. I want to follow in her footsteps and become a science teacher after graduating.”

“You’d be a good teacher.”

Earnest, fond eyes look at him. There’s no reason he should feel so touched by Joseph’s comment. It’s a passing comment, one that anyone could give as flattery. But the sincerity in the words presses the sentiment past something just skin deep. Clumsily (where are the sugary words he spun just a couple of nights ago), he gives his thanks. Amazingly, Joseph seems satisfied by just that, shooting him a smile flashing his teeth.

They polish off the rest of their meals after that, then as they clean up, they set up a time to explore the hospital for their latest case. At the door, Joseph gives his thanks, exclaiming that he wants to eat Caesar’s food again soon. Caesar doesn’t know if it’s just flattery, but all he knows is that he wants to peer into Joseph’s chest of secrets and unearth them one by one.

That night, he dreams of pressing his hands against Joseph’s mask and peeling it away at the dinner table. Joseph talks exaggeratedly, a piece of bread held in his hand scattering crumbs. The him in his dreams is trying to rip the piece out of the brunette’s hands. He’s annoyed, but it also feels fun.

Caesar wakes up feeling warm.   

★☆★☆★☆

Joseph has a carefree smile, but his eyes are anything but. He stares at the hospital with a sharp, calculating look. Likewise, Caesar can feel the familiar crawling sensation up his spine at the presence of something inhuman. The hospital is covered in a cloud of inky miasma, writing and pulsing, unknown to everyone in the building. The pressure of it hits his shoulders hard.

The amount of killing intent in the nightmare-like mist makes them break out into a cold sweat.

“Don’t be scared, I’ll protect you.”

“Who needs your protection stronzo? If anything, I bet I’m going to have to save you.”

The feeling of oppression only gets more suffocating after they pass through the automatic doors. Immediately, they see wisps of shadows fluttering around every living body in the hospital. The wisps try to come and leech off them as well. Joseph shoos them away with a Hamon-charged hand, face pinched in comical annoyance, while Caesar tries to film himself in a thin layer of Hamon.

They walk up to the helpdesk and meet the attendant there. She attempts to give a bright smile but clearly looks pale. The poisonous air clings and pulses around her. Caesar tries to match her smile but he can’t quite manage to bring out the same charm he usually does.

“Ciao bella. Your smile is the loveliest thing I’ve seen today.”

He hears Joseph snort sarcastically behind him and restrains himself from whipping around to yell at him. Stupid man can’t appreciate the art of showering a beautiful woman with compliments.

“Could you please tell me where Paolo Ferri is?”

“Ah, he’s on the fourth floor, room 404. The elevator is right down the hall, on your left.”

He’s about to give the receptionist his thanks but Joseph jumps in.

“Sorry, miss – uh – Olivia. Actually, which way is the stairs?”

Both Caesar and Olivia give him odd looks, but she still answers. “The stairs are near the elevators, just walk past them and they should be at the end of the hall.”

They’re both momentarily stunned by the radiant smile Joseph flashes. “Thank you very much!” Soft leather gloves wrap around Caesar’s pale wrist and drag him away into the wide corridor.

Getting ahold of his faculties, he wrenches his wrist out and glares, but Joseph just smirks.

“Next you’re going to say, ‘Don’t drag me around asshole, I can walk on my own.’”

“Don’t drag – oh, fuck you.”

“And to answer your question, we’re taking the stairs because I had too much to eat before coming here and want to stretch my legs. Besides, old men like you need more exercise to keep spry right?”

“I’m only two years older than – you know what. No. I’m not doing this. Hurry up, let’s go already.”

The four floors are easily scaled by the two taller and well-built men. Joseph hops two to three steps at a time with light feet. Caesar rolls his eyes behind him, taking a more leisurely, calm pace. It doesn’t take long to reach their destination. Joseph looks nonchalant as he enters the corridor, but Caesar can feel the other man’s brain running a mile a minute. He’s become strangely attuned to Joseph’s mood in a short period of time, no matter how good the other man thinks he is at hiding it. Or maybe he’s just been observing him too often. Now there’s a scary thought.

He checks that his gloves are producing soap normally, even though he knows he checked right before he left. They’re entering the thick of it. The oppressive atmosphere only pushes down on their shoulders more. He can hear Joseph’s breaths getting shallower and his own lungs and limbs feel more and more sluggish as they encroach upon 404. A red warning light seems to flash in his brain activating his fight or flight instincts.

Stopping in front of the door, Joseph turns to his side, pressing his fingertips on the handle. With his eyes, Joseph asks him if he’s ready. He glowers in reply. Ready or not, there’s no turning back now. The brunette frowns for a moment but seems to accept that there’s no path but forward and turns his gaze.

Joseph slides the door with a slam.

They were not ready. Paolo lays unconscious in the private room. A figure strokes his head. The setting sun can be seen through the window behind them. Shadows fade away to reveal the figure’s “face” if it can be called as such. There’s a large endless void where any facial features should be. Large takin horns jut out of its forehead. Black tribal marks squirm and shift around on white skin. It tilts its head when it notices Joseph and Caesar. Dragging a hand on the safety rail, it creeps closer and closer. Joseph immediately reaches into his back pocket and pulls out – is that a fucking fidget spinner? Despite the peril they’re in, Caesar stares at the larger man, mouth agape.

“Are you a goddamn child?! What in the fucking world are you planning to do with that?!”

“The peanut gallery should shut the fuck up and let me work my magic!”

With a wide flick of his wrist, Joseph sends the toy flying. Caesar watches as it soars towards the demon, aim true. Of course, it wasn’t that easy. The spirit turns just so that the spinner barely misses, slamming into the back wall and sparking.

“Rotto nel culo! You missed!”

The brunette ignores him, backing up, sea-green eyes never leaving his target.

“God, where’s the faith, Caesarino?”

Once the demon is lined up between him and the spinner, Joseph charges his hand with the opposite flow of that in the spinner, causing an attractive magnetism-like effect. In an instant, the toy flies through, piercing one side of the chest of its target and coming clean through the other side. Joseph catches it with ease but looks on with disgust at the inky blood that coats his palm.

“Ugh that’s disgu –“

A loud, sharp shriek reverberates throughout the room. Collapsing to his knees, Joseph drops the spinner in lieu of trying to protect his eardrums. Caesar himself almost falls to the floor but manages to brace himself. Brilliantly, he manages to create small bubbles filled with soapy water to muffle the scream and avoid becoming paralyzed. However, even with the makeshift earplugs, he can feel the bubbles in his ears straining to protect his ears. There’s not much time. They can’t fight like this. They need to get out and regroup and come up with a plan.

Caesar lifts Joseph off the ground and moves him as far away from the room as possible. Fortunately, the nurses in the hall don’t seem as affected as they are, but they still hunch down and look unwell. Distracted by the sudden fatigue, they don’t notice Caesar dragging Joseph along back in the hall. The wail tapers off the farther into the hall they go, allowing for a moment of reprieve. Caesar pulls at Joseph’s hands around his ears.

“Jojo, let go. Let me block your ears with my bubbles.”

Joseph looks dazed, no doubt still feeling the effects of the demon’s awful shrieking. Still, he manages to somehow register the words being directed at him to give a nod and let his hands fall away. Caesar brings his palms up to Joseph’s ears and makes a barrier to protect his partner’s ears from another potential attack.

After the deed is done, Joseph tilts his head at the odd sensation of a bubble in his ears. There’s not much time to contemplate it though, as a tremendously horrifying presence creeps up behind them. Joseph grabs Caesar’s wrist once more and makes a beeline for the stairs. Blue-green eyes make sure the demon continues to follow them.

The metal door makes a loud bang as Joseph kicks it open with his foot. Caesar retrieves his wrist from Joseph’s palm and the two of them make their way down the twisting and turning stairwell that’s saturated with the smell of concrete and lighting that casts a sickly glow. The steps and railing rattle with the weight of their forceful footsteps. Caesar expects Joseph to stop at the ground floor, but the younger man completely passes it and goes down even further towards the underground parking garage. With a final slam, Joseph shoulders his way into the middle of a relatively empty parking area. The fluorescent lights buzz and some of them flicker, obviously in need of replacement. Turning, the two of them face the door, waiting for the evil spirit to come for them.

A couple of moments pass. Neither of them takes their gazes off the door. But a wrinkle forms as Joseph’s eyebrows come together in confusion. Caesar can feel a questioning gaze on him so he looks in reply. Joseph points toward the door with a look asking, “It was right behind us, right?” Caesar nods. The inconvenience of protecting their ears but losing their sense of sound hits him.

Suddenly, Caesar feels his body get slammed into and groans as he’s knocked to the floor. He barely has time to get a hold of his faculties as Joseph slings his arm over his shoulder and drags him away from where he had been standing.

“Che due palle!” He curses at Joseph. But Joseph’s gaze doesn’t even look at him, it looks straight ahead and Caesar freezes when he sees the demon standing where he had previously been.

When did it get there? How did it get there? There’s no way it came through the stairwell, but he could swear that he could feel its presence following them as they were sprinting down. Augh! Nothing will come out of thinking about it more. They need to get rid of it before it does any more harm to the hospital staff. Not to mention that Caesar has an unsettling feeling that Joseph may have drawn its attention to them with his little stunt in the patient room.

With that in mind, he pushes himself off Joseph and launches spinning bubbles to attack. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees bouncy brunette hair blur as the larger man sprints forward.

His bubbles get mostly deflected and dodged, but the demon still is forced to retreat backward. Caesar readies more bubbles but pauses as Joseph reaches his hand out in a familiar pose that reminds him of the abandoned schoolhouse. Right as it steps in between two concrete pillars in the lot, Hamon flows through it in a crisscross net pattern, making it screech as the sparks cut in and burn its back. Another unearthly screech vibrates through the air. Caesar’s about the send another wave of bubbles, but before he sends his next attack, they watch the spirit melt into shadows and disappear.

Merda, he thinks as he watches the demon reemerge from Joseph’s shadow.

“JO–!”

His warning comes too late. The demon grabs the back of Joseph’s neck and slams him into a car that starts beeping noisily. The demon's fingers dig in deep into the flesh of his thick neck and cut off his breathing. Weak ripples try to imbed themselves in the demon’s arm as Joseph tries to pry it off but with his airway cut off, it’s a desperate endeavor. As it chokes him out, the strange shifting black markings on its skin all concentrate on the arm holding Joseph down. Then, the markings start flowing onto Joseph’s own skin. Caesar manages to launch his strongest, most concentrated wave of bubbles he has. It hits its mark, some of the bubbles pushing the demon away from Joseph while others make burning incisions on its skin. The demon hunches over before lifting its head up, its “gaze” directed at him.

Clenching his fists and bringing them up to his face, Caesar gets into a defensive pose. The being’s gaze drifts away and looks towards its own palm. It opens and closes the palm before considering its other wounds. It lifts its head after it seems to come to some conclusion. It walks toward the nearest cast shadow and its height shrinks towards the ground, melting away.

Caesar takes the moment to race toward Joseph who lies unconscious on the hood of the damaged car. The relief to find him still breathing is indescribable. However, there are still new ominous blemishes on his tanned skin that squirm and fly around. Caesar tries to trace the black marks on Joseph’s skin but they move away from his fingertips.

At that moment Joseph regains consciousness, coughing and trying to ignore the pain in his throat. Caesar keeps one palm on his cheek, rubbing his thumb against it while calling out his name.

“Hehe, that tickles Caesarino.”

Joseph’s eyes look tired and his voice is raw. But he’s awake and alive.

“Shut up coglione. Don’t move. Just stay there.”

Completely ignoring those words, Joseph turns with a loud groan, bitching about how there’s probably going to be a giant purple and blue bruise on his back in the morning.

“Yeesh. I hope whoever owns this car has some good insurance,” Joseph laughs before a pang of pain makes him wince and his eyes lose focus.

Trying to keep him awake, Caesar tries for some banter. “If you have enough energy to think about that, you’ll live. I feel sorry for your head. Use your brain for some more useful thoughts.”

A warm glove rests on the hand leaning against the car. “Heh. Sorry. I don’t know if I can keep on entertaining you, buddy. Feelin’ pretty shitty. Kinda wanna take a nap.” His cheek nuzzles against Caesar’s palm and his eyes get half-lidded. “Your hand’s soft,” Joseph slurs.

“Don’t go to sleep you idiot, stay with me,” he smacks Joseph’s cheek a couple of times, and the man whines in annoyance.

“Your bedside manner is terrible.”

“Stay awake. I’m calling my teacher.”

“Who says I have to listen to you?”

“Porca troia!” Caesar mutters under his breath as he presses a well-known number from his contacts. When the dial tone ends and an elegant voice responds on the other end, the blond straightens his back instinctively and takes on a more respectful form of speech.

“Maestra, I apologize for calling at this late hour. I’m sorry to bother you but I –“ he glances back at Joseph who rubs at his sore neck while glaring balefully up at the ceiling above him. “We need your assistance.”

Chapter Text

Lisa Lisa tilts Joseph’s jaw left and right, watching the black inky marks slither its way from his right cheek across the bridge of his nose to the left cheek. Joseph’s nose is scrunched up to indicate his distaste at the manhandling. Caesar could only watch with anxiety as his Maestra tries to come to some sort of diagnosis for his battered and bruised companion.

With a harsh sigh, the Hamon master presses her fingertips to her temple.

“I’ll start with the good news first.”

She elects to ignore Joseph who complains that she should obviously start with the bad news and end with good, what the hell? Caesar, unfortunately, does not have the solid control over his temper that Lisa Lisa seems to have on hers, and pinches Joseph for his disrespect, ignoring his obnoxious whining at the assault on his being.

“The demon should not be causing harm to the hospital anymore. The unfortunate news is that the reason it will no longer be influencing the hospital any longer is due to the fact it has cursed Joseph instead.”

The two of them watch Joseph ruffle his unruly hair aggressively as he shouts out with a booming, “HOLY SHIT!”

Caesar’s stomach swirls at the thought of that monster clinging to Joseph and coming for his life. The situation feels much too similar to the dream he had the first night after he’d met Joseph. The foolish man running headfirst into danger and risking his personal wellbeing to save others. Except instead of rings, it was demonic tattoos.

“Maestra, is there anything we can do to help him–?”

Lisa Lisa crosses her arms and frowns. 

“We can do as much research as we can, but most curses of this nature require exterminating the source of the curse. You two will need to prepare yourselves for another encounter with that malevolent spirit.”

Joseph pales at Lisa Lisa’s train of thought. “You don’t mean…”

“You two will need to stay at Air Supplena Island as much as possible in order to train. You should both contact your professors for your classes and be prepared to do your coursework as much as possible from the island.

“OH NO! This is going to be so much work! Next, you’re going to tell me that I need to wear a mask to correct my breathing!”

In any other situation, Caesar would have brought his fist down on Joseph’s head to reprimand him and express his disappointment with how unmotivated he’s being about something that would save his goddamn life. But he gets caught up by Joseph’s quip. A mask that corrects one’s breathing. In some of his dreams, Joseph had worn it what seemed like a day-to-day basis. Was it just a coincidence that the Englishman would mention that now? It could most definitely be something that Joseph just pulled out of his ass for an example, but it’s incredibly specific. Did he encounter someone else who trained breathing with masks? He’s never asked about how Joseph learned his Hamon, and Caesar’s absolutely sure that he’s never mentioned the dreams to the other man. There’s no way Joseph be having the same dreams…was there?

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Lisa Lisa’s serious reply to Joseph’s sarcasm.

“I will test your abilities immediately after you’ve recovered. For now, since your mental capabilities do not seem to be too impaired,” she ignores Caesar who can’t help but quip debatable from his corner, and Joseph who counters with a raspberry, “we will make sure you understand the basics of purifying and exorcising demons. From what Caesar has told me, you have some skills in Hamon and some other means. However, you seem to be lacking a significant amount of textbook knowledge. Therefore–“

A hefty stack of books suddenly appears on an end table next to Joseph with a bam! Joseph’s eyes go wide with horror.

“While you recover, you should read through these texts. They explain the basis of demon extermination and have lists of the types of demons that exist and how to defeat them. You might be able to find the demon that you’ve fought in one of these.”

“Oh god, I’m in hell,” Joseph murmurs.

“Suck it up bambino,” Caesar hisses.

★☆★☆★☆

The next couple of days are dedicated to recovering and parsing through the books. Caesar stays near his recovering younger companion, helping go through some of the books left by Lisa Lisa while Joseph starts on the basics.

“Hamon and holy water huh? Can Lisa Lisa make holy water?”

“Since holy water needs to be blessed by the church, it’s typically only used in cases where Hamon alone isn’t enough.”

“Feel like holy water would work real well with your bubbles.”

Caesar hums in acknowledgment. It would be worth talking to Lisa Lisa about procuring more holy water and trying to incorporate a formula for it if possible. It’s a bitter feeling, but he should have prepared some before dealing with these cases in the first place.

Before the two of them can get too absorbed in the pages again, a knock on the door interrupts them. The door cracks open and a cheerful young woman comes bearing food. The aromatic scent of garlic and shrimp starts to fill the room.

“Hey boys~! It’s time for lunch!”

Swiftly, the blond petite woman passes out the dishes to the two Hamon users.

“Ahh, grazie mio carina Suzi Q. It looks delicious. Jojo you rude faccia a culo!”

Unlike Caesar, who tries to be polite before digging in, Joseph already is a third of the way through the plate, slurping up pasta sloppily. Though instead of being insulted by Joseph’s cheekiness, Suzi simply giggles at the sight of Joseph passionately eating.

After swallowing, Joseph shoots a bright grin at Suzi. “Ah, Suzi Q, your cooking is great! It’s so nostalgic!”

“Apologize to Suzi Q, Joseph!”

“It’s okay Caesar, watching Joseph eating my food is also strangely nostalgic. Him enjoying it is compliment enough. Besides, he gets a pass for being friends with you.”

“Suzi Q!” Caesar shouts, red dusting his ears and birthmarks.

He glances over at Joseph, who continues to devour his meal, but he can see a deep fondness in his eyes, the kind of affection that’s deep, and warm like drinking a thick hot chocolate. Caesar feels unsettled by the look that seems to be directed toward Suzi Q. Does Joseph like her? He’s barely met her for a couple of minutes. The tenderness of his gaze feels too mature for someone Joseph’s age. It creates a sense of distance between the two of them that Caesar can’t help but detest. He wants to scold himself for his childish thoughts.

“This guy – all you need to do is give him some food and he’ll give you his love. It’s just like a puppy,” Caesar can’t help but mutter bitterly under his breath.

Suzi claps her hands together as she suddenly remembers something. “Oh, Jojo! Lisa Lisa mentioned that she’ll be testing your skills today if you’re up for it. She said that you two should both report to the harbor.”

The look in Joseph’s eyes could be best compared to that of a dead fish on the cutting board. With exasperation, Caesar drags the lifeless man towards the shore once he’s done with his meal.

The endless blue stretches out before them, glittering underneath the sunlight. There’s a light salty scent in the air and the crash of the waves in the background. In the center of it all, Lisa Lisa elegantly stands on top of the water, barely disturbing it at all. Her scarf flutters around her neck, casting a truly majestic figure.

Her voice rings out clearly as she states the requirements to pass her test.

“Joseph, if you can manage to take this necklace from me, you pass.”

Lisa Lisa brings a necklace with a large ruby cross and clasps it to her neck.

“Begin!”

“Fuckin’ hell!”

Joseph leaps onto the water and sprints towards their teacher. Caesar is impressed to see that Joseph can also stand firm on the water without sinking in at all. When Joseph gets too close though, Lisa Lisa’s scarf crackling with Hamon knocks him away, sending him flying back.

“Damn, that scarf is going to be a royal pain in my ass!”

Joseph flings something charged with Hamon out of his hands. It takes Caesar a minute to realize that the projectiles are the pasta that they had just been eating. Caesar can’t help but comment on the absolutely idiotic thought process that must have led the man to this idea.

“Mio Dio Jojo! Where have you been keeping those all this time?!”

“Shut up stupid Caesar! A magician never reveals his secrets!”

Lisa Lisa skillfully deflects away the pasta projectiles along with the hair charged Hamon that Joseph sends after. Caesar has to give Joseph points for creativity and resourcefulness, though he can’t help but think that his technique (if it can even be called that) reeks of desperation.

Joseph runs up again, but just before he gets in range, he kicks up a wave of water that threatens to obscure Lisa Lisa’s view. She coats herself in Hamon to avoid getting wet, also bringing up her scarf to block. It’s at that moment that Joseph brings out a fork which also had to be stolen from lunch and pierces it through the scarf. He also motions to his hair again, giving the impression that he’s going to launch another attack that way, making Lisa Lisa jump back to create some distance. But instead, as she’s jumping back, there’s a gap between her neck and the ruby cross as it floats in the air. Unseen to both Lisa Lisa and Caesar, Hermit Purple threads itself between the gap and snaps off the necklace. Unfortunately, though the purple vines have a hold on the necklace, Lisa Lisa reacts fast enough to also grab it as well. She frowns at the invisible tension that won’t let go of the necklace.

“Jojo! You cheater! You used that strange ability of yours just now didn’t you?!”

“Who you calling a cheater?! Lisa Lisa never said in the rules that I couldn’t use my stand!”

After fighting to pull at the necklace for a bit, she decides she’s seen enough and calls off the match.  “We will call this a draw.”

Caesar, seeing that the test is concluded, starts to make his way over to where Joseph and his Maestra are. Joseph retracts Hermit Purple and falls to the water, breathing harshly. Warily, he asks, “So what does that mean for me?”

“Your breathing seems to be adequate enough that you should not require the mask. However, your stamina is lacking.”

“Well, it’s not like I expect to make a full-time job outta being a demon exterminator anytime soon.”

Lisa Lisa’s eyes sharpen. “It’s that halfhearted attitude that got you into this situation in the first place. We may not know exactly what the result of the curse will be, but there is no doubt that it is designed to cause you harm. You and Caesar will both go through training to further strengthen your Hamon.”

Joseph gave a mournful groan at the idea.

Unfazed, she asks Joseph a couple of her own questions. “What the technique that you used to grab the necklace? It doesn’t seem to be Hamon.”

Caesar gives Jospeh his own questioning look. He always wondered about the capabilities of the strange technique that Joseph used that could never be seen but still had a physical manifestation.

“Hmm, damn, how do I explain it? Well, users of this technique call it a ‘stand.’ We call them ‘stands’ since they usually appear next to the user when summoned. The abilities of each person’s stand can differ wildly from person to person. Some stands have multiple abilities, some hidden that can be unlocked later down the line with enough motivation and exploration. Stands can only be seen by other stand users, which is why you two aren’t able to see it. My stand is called Hermit Purple. The physical manifestation is purple vines. I can use it to find things. I showed Caesar already, but I can find the location of things I’m looking for with my smartphone. I can also use it to see things that may not want to be seen.”

Caesar remembers from the first night he met Joseph and the second case they had where the Englishman showed off some of “Hermit Purple’s” abilities. Lisa Lisa’s eyebrows furrow at the thought of an unknown technique that could become a threat.

“Is the ability of this ‘stand’ related to Hamon in some way?”

Fair question. Joseph is both a Hamon user and stand user, so it wouldn’t be odd to think there’s some sort of connection.

“Hermit Purple can conduct Hamon. I’m the only Hamon-stand user I know though. I’ve met more stand users than Hamon users, but that might just be because Hamon users are typically taught whereas most stand users are born or can discover their stand naturally. I could see a stand user potentially being easier to teach Hamon too – or at least being more likely to be able to use it considering a stand’s power is connected to the user’s mental strength.”

Lisa Lisa nods, not completely satisfied but willing to shelve the topic. “I’ll ask you more at another time. Be ready for tomorrow.”

With graceful steps, she advances back to the island.

Joseph also lifts himself up, ready to be out of the water. “Let’s go back to Caesar. I’m so tired of standing on the water. It’s too much effort! Jeez, I’m too old for this.”

“I’m older than you cazzo! You’re not even that old!”

They make their way back as well, tracing Lisa Lisa’s steps. As they head towards their rooms, Caesar can’t help but give in to his curiosity.

“Hey Jojo, where did you learn to breathe Hamon?”

Joseph shoots a wry grin towards where Lisa Lisa had just walked, eyes distant.

“My mom.”

He doesn’t elaborate more beyond that, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking forward.

He can feel a sharp pain on his cheek. He looks forward and sees Suzi Q, who’s eyes have rolled back and has bloody vein marks jutting out of her skin. A distinctly masculine voice that errs on the side of screeching comes from her Veins wriggle and write from Suzi Q’ body. Possession. She flings to the doorway, hanging grotesquely on veins like a marionette. The voice – Esidisi – gives them an ultimatum. Kill the girl to kill him. He and Lisa Lisa are hesitant but Joseph saunters up, ready to throw a punch that could end Suzi’s life. Caesar can’t believe that Joseph would do it but unfortunately, Esidisi also calls Joseph’s bluff.

They almost come to the decision to end Suzi’s life but Joseph has a spark of inspiration at the last moment. Positive and negative Hamon to prevent harm to Suzi Q while drawing out Esidisi. A plan that hinges on the ability of the two of them to cooperate precisely. Somehow, they manage it. Esidisi’s brain leaps out of Suzi and attaches itself to Joseph’s back.

Fear at the thought of it invading the Englishman’s body fills Caesar with panic. He calls out to Joseph but the man is incredibly calm.

“Don’t worry. It’s alright, the sun will take care of the rest.”

The brain falls into Joseph’s palm and begins to crumble. Caesar curses out Esidisi as he goes to help Suzi Q, but the brunette stops him.

“I fought against him so I understand. He threw away everything to try and get the Stone for his allies. For thousands of years, he did as he pleased and lived to the fullest. Good or evil, I respect his life.”

Caesar stares at the melancholy face and clenched fist of a man as the sunlight kisses his face, wondering how many facets one man could have.

Caesar jerks awake that night, cold sweat wetting his back, unable to shake the coincidence of seeing all these people around him reappearing over and over in his dreams. Mark, Jojo, and now Suzi Q and Lisa Lisa. The dreams are too coherent, too organized. They feel real, more like memories than dreams. But that can’t be possible. Caesar knows his own memories. These aren’t part of them!

The rest of his night is spent staring at the ceiling, wondering what to do.

★☆★☆★☆

The dreams take a backseat to the chaos of Lisa Lisa’s hellish training regimen.

Take ten breaths in a single second, inhale for ten minutes and exhale for ten minutes. Swim around the island a hundred times, underwater training, balancing on spikes with just your fingertips and toes. Save Joseph from drowning a couple of times in-between. Spar with Joseph under the watch of Maestra Lisa Lisa.

(Putting Joseph on his ass always gave him a stupid amount of joy but it always came with the fifty-fifty chance of the other man pulling some stupid stunt that would turn the tables. The brunette could never win normally either. One victory of his ended up with Caesar getting assaulted by a flock of pigeons. Not to mention, dealing with Hermit Purple is a pain.)

After training is dinner made by the lovely Suzi Q. Then it’s helping cleaning up and washing dishes. Caesar is surprised that Joseph actually helps out with some of the chores. He can’t help but wonder at the cowed glances the taller man shoots at Suzi Q while rinsing and drying.

When all that is over, they end up heading to the library to either catch up on the work they’re missing and university or researching the origins of Joseph’s curse.

Every night is spent worrying about the shifting ink that paints Joseph’s once unblemished face and body. Caesar despises it. Every grin and laugh that Joseph expresses is now marred by an unknown threat that looms over them. It looks even eerier under the dim lighting.

Caesar can’t help but clench his fist over yet another dead end of a book. A gloved palm appears to cover it, then moves to pry open his fingers.

His head shoots up to meet Joseph’s eyes, which are squinting, a wry smile on his face.

“Caesar’s gonna hurt his hands if he keeps clenching his fist like that.”

Leather gloves turn Caesar’s palm towards the ceiling. There are clear crescent-shaped intents there. Joseph's thumb moves to softly rub away at them. A shiver runs up Caesar’s back.

Trying to regain a hold of the situation, Caesar wrenches his hand away from Josephs, trying to ignore the regret at the loss of connection. A spark of frustration causes him to lash out.

“Why aren’t you more worried about yourself! We haven’t even figured out what this curse is or what that demon is!”

Reaching out across the table, Caesar tries to trace and follow the black marks on Joseph’s face. Caesar frowns as Joseph giggles at the feeling of fingers.

“Well, since we haven’t been making much progress on figuring out which ass twat of a demon out there messed up my gorgeous face with his curse bullshit and there’s no convenient demon Wikipedia out there, I decided to hit up an old friend of mine for some help.”

Moving away from Caesar’s fingertips, Joseph leans down the side of the table and pulls out his laptop. He then pats the empty space next to him, motioning Caesar to move his chair. Curious, Caesar scoots over and finds that Joseph has started up a Skype call. A cheerful Egyptian man stares back with a lazy looking Boston terrier sitting on his shoulder. He gives a wave at the sight of Joseph while the Boston terrier looks decidedly uninterested in the entire conversation. Caesar can’t help but note that Avdol’s hands are completely wrapped in gauze.

“Joestar! How are you doing?” He leans into the camera, squinting. “What happened to your face?”

“Ahh, well, we’ll get to that later. But first, how’s France? Is Polnareff and his sister doing well?”

“France is lovely. It’s a shame that we didn’t get to visit during our trip. The food is wonderful and the architecture stunning! Polnareff and Sherry are healthy and happy. Well, as happy as someone who is staying up late doing a programming assignment can be. He wanted to come in and say hi as well but the timing didn’t work out so today is just Iggy and me.”

Caesar watches Joseph’s eyes soften when he hears about this “Polnareff.”

“Ahh, that’s really good. It’s too bad he can’t say hi. Oh, my bad, I didn’t introduce my partner here!” Unexpectedly, Joseph wraps his arm around Caesar’s neck and brings him closer into the view of the screen.

“Avdol! This is my friend Caesar! I met him while doing some consulting on campus!”

Avdol’s eyes sparkle in recognition. “Ah! Ciao Caesar! Joestar has mentioned you before! My name is Muhammad Avdol. I’m glad to finally meet you!”

Taken aback by the sudden manhandling and the one-sided recognition, Caesar scrambles to reply. “Oh, buonasera Avdol, it’s nice to meet you. I’m afraid Joestar hasn’t been so forthcoming about you as he apparently has about me.” A glare is directed at the sheepishly grinning man.

A nice, broad laugh comes from the man on the other side of the screen as if expecting that would be the case. “Don’t worry about it. Joestar has an amazing habit of saying too much while not saying anything at all.”

“Avdol is being so mean to me! Is this punishment for not calling you?”

Teasing eyes glimmer. Ah, this man clearly knows how to handle Joseph. Kindly, he says instead, “I’m happy for you Joestar.”

There’s something being communicated between the two of them that Caesar can’t translate. Something that’s transcending words.

“Thank you Avdol.”

Steeling himself, Joseph straightens his back and lets go of Caesar. A calm, serious expression sets itself on his face. Reading the change in mood, Avdol crosses his arms in front of him, a stern look replacing the warm cheerfulness he’d radiated before.

“Avdol, about this,” Joseph points to the swirling black markings that move from his cheek to his forehead. “It seems like I’ve been cursed by a demon. We haven’t been able to find out anything about that demon for the past couple of days – or what the effects of this thing is. I was hoping – well – do you have your tarot cards on you?”

“Joseph,” Caesar starts, doubtful.

“C’mon Caesarino, we fight demons. You can’t tell me you don’t believe in fortune-telling with the shit we’ve seen. Besides, I trust Avdol with my life. He also named my stand,” Joseph laughs.

Caesar bites the inside of his cheek, wanting to protest but unable to say anything in the face of Joseph’s clear loyalty. An annoyance fills his chest at the thought of a side of Joseph that he doesn’t know. He can’t explain why. It’s irrational, is what it is.

Avdol shuffles his cards, unaware of Caesar’s inner turmoil. “Alright Joestar, shall we go for a three-card spread? The first card will be the situation. The second card will represent the actions you need to take, and the final card will give a hint to the outcome of your actions.”

“Alright, hit me Avdol.”

“This isn’t blackjack, Joestar,” Avdol chuckles before getting serious once more. “The situation,” Avdol draws. “The tower, upright. A card symbolizing chaos, disaster. An unavoidable upheaval. I don’t know what exactly this demon has done to you, Joestar, but this doesn’t bode well for you. If possible, find out what this curse is and how to end it.”

The second card comes out. “This card represents the actions you should take. The three of pentacles, upright. Ah, it’s a triad. A symbol of stability. The three of pentacles is a card representing collaboration and teamwork. Do not bicker and stay together.”

“Finally, the outcome, the upright sun,” Avdol breathes a sigh of relief. “If you work well together, you will find happiness and success. After even the darkest of nights, the dawn always comes. Joestar, I’m sure you’ll get through this crisis.”

★☆★☆★☆

The training must be getting to him.

Hell Climb Pillar. Twenty-four meters and slathered in oil. He and Joseph had been mercilessly tossed in by Lisa Lisa. Already, it has been twenty-four hours since they’ve been tossed in and he’s climbed only fifteen meters. Joseph hasn’t even gotten started, his Hamon too immature and uncontrolled. He’s worried for the both of them, but at least if he can get to the top, he can get help and rescue Jojo.  

Amazingly, Joseph gets a handle on the trick an hour later and soon they’re both scaling the tower. Of course, Joseph has to go and be lazy about it and at a little more than two days in, the Englishman falls into one of the tower’s traps, sending a killer oil blast that could slice a man in two (Caesar knows, he has a broken pen to prove it).

He hears Joseph apologize for setting off the trap and to not be mad, but Caesar can’t even blame him for this. For someone who’s never been formally trained in Hamon to be thrown into a situation like this, of course, they’d look for any chance they can to complete the task. Honestly, more than anything, he’s worried for Jojo. He has an idea of how to get through the oil trap but it’s going to be impossible for Jojo to pull off. Positive and negative Hamon. It takes a hell of a lot out of him, but he manages it somehow, feeling like a balloon that’s nearly lost all of its air.

He reaches the top and begs Lisa Lisa to show some mercy. He knows Jojo better now, knows how the man thinks. His stunts are all high risk, high reward. It’s going to get him killed here.

Of course, the man lives to prove him wrong, to go against any and all preconceptions he may have had. Joseph uses what little he has in ways that defy expectations. He grabs on the oil parallel to the direction it's spraying and uses its force to launch him up even closer to his goal. But Caesar can tell that the brunette’s energy is running out. A conviction blooms in his chest. Don’t let Jojo fall.

He reaches out and grasps the other man’s arm before he can drop. Listen to Lisa Lisa tease him as Joseph panics.

He wakes up and wonders at his dream self’s dedication to Jojo. Thinks about his own feelings towards Jojo.

There’s anxiety in realizing how he looks at Jojo in his dreams and how he feels about Jojo now.

He remembers Joseph’s thumb caressing his palm, thinks of the way his heart clenches when Joseph sends him a look with even the remotest amount of affection, the way Joseph makes him tea, how warm his shoulder felt when they scoped out the client’s apartment for the banshee case. He thinks about how Joseph’s eyes glitter when he smiles, how his thick lips purse and pull. His thumb twitches at the thought of tracing those lips, finding out if they’re as soft as they look.

It’s distressing realizing that his feelings might not have been as simple as friendship as he had originally thought.

The morning after, he knocks on the door to Lisa Lisa’s room, unable to continue keeping these dreams to himself.  

She seems slightly surprised to see him, but nonetheless, ushers him in and gets him a seat.

“This is – this is going to sound ridiculous but lately I’ve been having strange dreams.”

He explains how meeting Joseph has triggered the dreams, dreams of not just Joseph, but including Lisa Lisa, Suzi Q, Loggins, and Messina. There are strange enemies. They don’t seem like demons. Somehow, they seem worse, more powerful. The situation is similar, and at the same time, different. In the dreams, they’re training as well, but there are fierce battles in-between.

He knows how crazy he sounds, but the dreams are too organized and too realistic to ignore.

To Lisa Lisa’s benefit, she listens to his story without a change in expression, only giving him a calm, contemplative look.

At the end of it all, he can only stutter out, “I’m sorry, I know it sounds impossible but–”

An upraised palm stills him. There’s kindness in her eyes, at least as much as Lisa Lisa is willing to show. But even the fact she’s willing to let that emotion shine through speaks of her affection for her pupil.

“I trust your intuition, Caesar. If you think there’s more to your dreams than you think, that’s probably the case. As for what it might mean, there are spiritual mediums who have been able to divine the future or see the past.”

These dreams of his don’t seem to be predictions. If anything, they seem to be triggered by events in the present, events that somehow run parallel with the events in his dreams.

“Maestra, what did you mean by ‘see the past’?”

“Some who are in this field of work believe in a past life. Reincarnation. There are some who say they can remember one or more of their previous lives.”

He can feel something click into place at the words “past life”. Could it be? Is that possible? It makes the most sense in context, but it seems absurd all the same. He can’t – he needs time to think, time to absorb this.

Shaken, he gives his thanks to Lisa Lisa before heading back to training.

★☆★☆★☆

“HOLY SHIT!”

Caesar’s shoulders jump up in surprise when Joseph exclaims in shock.

“Porco cane, Joseph! I’m right here, you don’t need to yell!”

“Forget about that, take a look at this!”

Joseph doesn’t give him much choice, shoving the book he’s been reading in his face. Scanning the page, Caesar freezes when he sees a familiar depiction of a white creature without a face, large horns, and black marks. When his brain catches up with his eyes, he yanks the book out of Joseph’s hands, who reacts with a pathetic, “Hey!”

Green eyes scour over the page, absorbing the words. Malleuk, a demon with incredible physical strength and the ability to rupture eardrums with the force of its screeching. Travels through shadows. When it has control of a territory, it releases a miasma that weakens its victims and absorbs their energy. Curses, where does it talk about how it curses?

Caesar flips the page and finds it continues.

When enraged, it curses its victims by scribing its mark on them. The curse erodes the attachment between the victim’s soul and their body, making it easier for Malleuk to irreversibly consume its essence. Once the bond is weak enough, Malleuk will be summoned and remove the soul.

This demon wants to eat Joseph.

The connection between Joseph’s soul and body is weakening as they speak.

They go to Lisa Lisa and let her know what they’ve found. She looks frustrated at their findings. The power of Hamon can do little to repair the condition of the soul. It’s a field that they have little information on. Caesar can’t help but notice how goddamn nonchalant Joseph seems throughout all of this.

His frustration boils over after the meeting. He ends up slamming Joseph into a wall.

“How are you so calm?! Don’t you give a shit at all?”

The Englishman gets angry at first. “Fuckin’ arse, what’s the big idea?!” But then he looks at him, and apparently, he sees something in Caesar’s eyes and settles down a bit.

“Yeah, you were like this then too, huh?” Joseph mutters unintelligibly under his breath.

That just pisses Caesar off more. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Instead of answering, Joseph gently grasps one of Caesar’s fists that clasp onto his shirt.

“Well, Avdol said that it’ll all turn out all right if we work well together. Like I said before, I trust Avdol with my life. Just because this demon is trying to cut off the connection between my soul and body, doesn’t mean we’re just going to let him take it. There isn’t much point in being worried when we’re doing all we can. The best thing to do now is just to keep a cool head and prepare as much as possible. The war is won even before you take your first step on the battlefield.”

The fight flows out of him and he lets his hands fall limp at his sides.  

“Do you trust that fortune teller so much…?”

Joseph looks contemplative. “Hmm, it’s not just that. I trust Lisa Lisa’s training. I think I’m stronger now than when we last fought that demon.”

The anger flares its head again. “You’re being arrogant–”

“–And I trust you.”

 Joseph points a finger right where Caesar’s heart is. Caesar should smack it away, berate Jojo for being rude. But his heart isn’t in it. He can feel the birthmarks on his cheeks get hot. In front of him, Joseph smirks.

★☆★☆★☆

It was a fatal miscalculation. He’d been winning. His bubble lenses had been effective. He had Wamuu on the ropes. But he’d gone in for the kill and blocked off his one advantage, taking a Divine Sandstorm attack directly.

Still, despite bleeding out, despite Wamuu’s words, he kept hopelessly trying. He knew. He knew this would end without reward. He was out of Hamon. There was little left that he could possibly do. Except for one thing.

He reaches out and grasps it. The ring. The antidote. Jojo, Jojo would have to do the rest.

He’s not afraid to die. His regrets are overflowing. His brothers and sisters. The crimes he’s committed. His father dying for him. Not defeating Wamuu. Fighting with Jojo.

But he’s not afraid to die.

He takes off his bandanna, threads the ring through it. Thinks of his family’s legacy through the pain. Feels the pride of the Zeppeli bloodline rush through him.

“Jojo, this is the last of my Hamon! Take it from me!”

Caesar jerks awake, heart nearly bursting out of his chest. Fuck, fuck! He fucking died. He died for Joseph. Whether it was a past life or not, he was willing to lay down everything for him. The scarier thing about all this is – he’s sure that back then, he loved him. Even after arguing and fighting, after insulting him, he chose Joseph’s life over his own. His last thoughts, his last breath, they were all for Jojo. He left Joseph his goddamn soul.

He’s not even sure that past him was aware of the intensity of his love – platonic or not. Hell, Caesar hadn’t truly realized the weight of his affection for Joseph himself until watching his past self from a perspective of being him but not being him.

He can’t deny it anymore. He cares for Joseph. Cares for him beyond friendship. He wants to be near him, to laugh with him, for him to be safe.

He wants to kiss him.

Merda, he’s so fucked.

He’s terrified.

He doesn’t want to die.

He doesn’t want Joseph to die.

And on top of all that, he’s gone ahead and fallen for someone who hides veils himself in words and deceptions.

He’s not a fool. He also has his secrets. But Joseph is a master of half-truths and deflection. He says a hundred things when it only seems like he’s saying one and Caesar has barely gotten started on the first layer. It’s frustrating. He wants to know, know the things that makeup Joseph Joestar.

He wants to know if Joseph might feel the same.

Growling in frustration, he digs his nail into his scalp.

He needs to go for a walk, clear his head.

Caesar decided to walk along one of the outdoor halls. He leaned over the rails and looked out at the grass and the tallest center tower. The night breeze was a bit chilly but nothing that he couldn’t handle.

Of course, he ends up meeting the man who’s causing him so much grief.

“Oh, it’s Caesar. You couldn’t sleep either?”

He stares at the man who has a blanket hanging over his bare shoulders. The blanket doesn’t reach the floor, Joseph’s stupid height allowing it to stay on him without dragging. He still has on those goddamn gloves. Does he sleep with them on?

Reluctantly, Caesar admits, “Bad dreams.”

Joseph hums, leaning against the railing next to him. Caesar gives him a moment before he can’t help but ask.

“What about you?”

It’s odd to see the other man this quiet without anything distracting him. The brunette stares out at his surroundings with half-lidded eyes.

“Some nights I can’t sleep. Too much stuff in my head. So, I do something else. Better than counting sheep or some other bullshit anyway.”

He could easily make some quip about how that’s surprising considering how empty his head seems to look like half the time, but it doesn’t seem right when Joseph is actually being sincere for once in his life. Besides, he’s seen the evidence of how much Joseph thinks before and after a situation. It’s a statement that’s both false and unfair. And he doesn’t feel much like lying tonight.

“Are you afraid?”

For some reason, Joseph seems to find that hilarious, and laughs. He wants to shush him, prevent him from waking the ladies, but Joseph eventually settles down, placing his cheek on his palm.

“You gotta be more specific than that, Caesarino.”

He can’t help but snarl, “Afraid of this demon, afraid of having your soul taken. Is that what’s keeping you up?”

Joseph giggles, looking up at the starry night sky nostalgically. “You might think I’m lying, but there are a lot more scarier things than that to keep me up at night.”

Desperately, he wants to pry. What could possibly scare you more than losing your own life?

“What about you?”

Is it worth talking about? Maybe, just maybe, could Joseph be experiencing the same thing that he is? He could just mention it vaguely, throw out a line, gauge his reaction.

“Jojo, Joseph. Do you believe in reincarnation?”

That gets a visceral reaction out of the other man. Joseph’s head whips around to face him, eyes wide, wild, and panicked. It’s the first time Caesar’s seen the Briton look so shaken. His spine straightens out, and his right hand is clenched hard on the railing. It’s trembling.

“No, no way. Why…? Caesar, do you remember?”

Santa Madonna. “Joseph, what do you mean? Have you been having strange dreams since meeting me as well?”

Joseph sounds choked when he repeats weakly, “Dreams. Yeah, something like that. Fuck Caesar, I’m so fucking sorry. You would’ve been better off forgetting.”

That pisses him off. “What the fuck does that even mean Jojo?! You’re sorry?! Do you not want me to know you?”

“You would have been happier not knowing. You died Caesar. You died for me. Who wants to remember that?!”

“You don’t get to decide what makes me happy or not Jojo! That’s my choice, my feelings! And yeah, maybe I died for you! But I deserve to know that! Did you think for a second that I might have been happy to get to know you?!”

Joseph looks stunned. “I–”

From behind him, his shadow splits open and a faceless white monster crawls out. It grabs onto Joseph’s leg. The next moment, Joseph holds onto Caesar’s waist and flings them off the railing.

Chapter Text

Caesar braces himself for impact once he feels his gut leap at the feeling of freefall. He’s surprised when the world stops blurring around him and the expected pain doesn’t come. Turning his glance away from the grassy lawn in front of him, he stares at Joseph who has one hand around his waist and another hand reached out in front of him. Even before he can ask, Joseph answers, “I’m using Hermit Purple to hold us up by the railing! I’m going to drop us down now!”

Joseph lets go of him and he manages to roll on the lawn, reducing the collision from the fall. The brunette follows quickly.

The two of them look up and curse when they realize that the demon cannot be seen.

Caesar knows now what this demon is capable of. He reaches out and grabs ahold of Joseph’s shoulder, bringing his hands over Joseph’s ears. The Englishman catches on quickly to Caesar’s plan.

After confirming that their eardrums are protected, the two of them position themselves back to back as miasma starts to cloud their vision. At his back, Caesar can feel Joseph breathing more heavily as the fog surrounding them gets thicker. Looking back to check his condition, he can see Joseph’s thick eyebrows nearly touching each other with how strained his face looks. For a man who usually carries a healthy olive tone, his face is concerningly pale which makes the shifting marks on his skin stand out even more. Fat beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

Caesar calls out his name, but Joseph can’t seem to hear him through the combination of the pain and the bubbles in his ears.

Is it the effect of the curse?

Of course, that’s when a white figure rises from the shadow cast in front of Joseph, a ghastly hand digging its fingertips into Joseph’s neck much like in their last encounter. He grits his teeth and glares through squinted eyes as Malleuk lifts him into the air, somehow even taller than Joseph’s already huge 6’5.

Forcing himself through the pain, Joseph must have snaked Hermit Purple around the demon’s arm. Caesar watches the white flesh deform under the pressure of what must be vines. The retaliation is enough to slacken the grip on his windpipe and allow Joseph to breathe for a moment. Which he takes advantage of to send a wave of Hamon sparking through the demon’s arm.

Joseph shoots a cheeky grin as he’s tossed to the floor, but Caesar can tell that his condition is not at its best. This is bad. They should have foreseen the possible effects of a weak connection between body and soul.

Not willing to lose the momentum, Caesar launches a flurry of spinning bubbles towards the demon while it’s still trying to shake off the effects of Joseph’s Hamon.

The bubbles slash into the Malleuk’s skin even deeper than the last encounter and the Hamon conducts longer in the wounds. No doubt, it’s a result of Lisa Lisa’s additional training and the new formula he created with holy water.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Joseph mouthing, “Nice, very nice!”

Unfortunately, that victory did not last long.

The demon lets out a loud shriek that shakes the air around them. The two Hamon users need to dig their feet into the soil to prevent themselves from getting blown away. The foliage around them sways dangerously at the unnatural force.

The bubbles in their ears burst under the intensity of the audial assault. There’s an uncomfortable rush of water to alert them. Caesar quickly reinforces his ears with new ones, but Joseph’s farther away and Caesar can’t reach him if Malleuk continues his attack. His apprehension grows at the thought of Joseph’s eardrums permanently getting damaged. Caesar steadies himself and looks at the brunette who’s blocking out the sound with his fingers.

Finally, the waves die down and the demon sinks back into the shadows, no doubt aiming for a counterattack. Caesar takes the opportunity to close the distance and regroup with Joseph. It’s then that he notices the tear in Joseph’s tank top. Joseph pulls out some fabric from his ears and Caesar has to marvel again at Joseph’s quick-headed resourcefulness when his back’s against the wall.

Taking out the quickly stuffed fabric and shoving it inside his right glove, Joseph offers his head up to Caesar, who efficiently repeats the process of protecting Joseph’s ears like before.

Hopefully, the demon is only able to perform an attack like that every once in a while. If it’s something that it can do regularly… Caesar doesn’t want to think too deeply about the precarious situation they would be in.

They go back-to-back again, the contact offering a small amount of reassurance in this shitty situation. They’re tense, staring down every little flutter, every little shadow.

This time, it rises from a shadow near Caesar, which isn’t much of a surprise considering how furious it was after being assaulted by Caesar’s bubble cutter. Luckily, he’s prepared himself, creating a massive bubble to contain it.

Surprisingly, the demon doesn’t rampage. It presses a finger against the walls of the prison, drawing back slightly at the sparks that fly. The lack of a face makes it hard to say what or if it’s even thinking. It tilts its head then plunges its hand into the film, Hamon disintegrating the white layer of flesh on its hand and revealing black muscles underneath as it pierces through the barrier.

They watch in horror as with a sharp slice of its arm, the prison pops.

In a flash, Malleuk is in front of Caesar, grabbing both of his hands, and sending a knee painfully into his stomach. For a moment, the breath leaves him and his vision blurs.

The next moment, he sees Joseph in the corner of his eye, the side of his hand, glowing bright with Hamon, aiming for the monster’s white neck. Caesar feels one of the hands suppressing his arms move away and watches it block Joseph’s hand. But Joseph persists without stopping, pressing even harder and concentrating even more Hamon.

Joseph’s hand, sharpened like a blade, cuts into Malleuk’s fingers, completely detaching them. It’s a grotesque picture, watching five fingertips fly in the air. The demon’s other hand leaves Caesar’s arm and clutches its fingerless hand, stumbling back. Low, frustrated screeching sounds come from the supernatural being. Beside him, Joseph’s expression is one that he’s never seen before. It chills his bones. There’s nothing but a hard disgust as he looks at the demon. Joseph in his memory of the past and present has always been expressive. Even his anger was something that burned.

But this expression is unforgiving.

There’s a feeling of relief when Joseph turns back to Caesar with a look of worry. Caesar tries to mouth out that he’s fine, but while they’re distracted, Malleuk takes its chance.

Joseph’s left hand is grabbed in a crushing grip and a powerful high kick is delivered to his sternum, enough that Joseph is blasted to the other end of the lawn. Caesar’s eyes follow Joseph’s body, letting out a small breath when he sees Joseph dig into the grass to prevent himself from flying further. But then horror blooms in his chest as he realizes that Joseph is missing an appendage.

The world feels hazy. Tinnitus hits him, his ears buzzing.

His head whips around and he bears witness to the white-skinned demon clutching Joseph’s left arm in a vice grip. It deforms under the powerful grip underneath the fabric and the demon barely gives it a glance as it throws it aside on the floor like trash.

But he has little time to be concerned about Joseph when Malleuk’s attention is now directed at him.

The demon’s good hand is inches from his throat. He tries to leap back, but somehow, the white hand keeps chasing after him.

Suddenly, there’s a silky red scarf fluttering in his vision that whips around and wraps around Malleuk’s arm. Yellow sparks of light, a clear sign of Hamon, conducts through the scarf and pumps into the demon’s body. Under the assault of such powerful Hamon, Malleuk lets out a pained, ground-shaking shriek.

Following the red scarf upwards to the sky, there’s the sight of black hair arcing and blending into the darkness and miasma. Two blue eyes stand out, piercing through the night. Gracefully, she lands behind their enemy and yanks. The demon is forced to turn around due to the force around its wrist. Lisa Lisa continues to channel Hamon, trying to dominate and restrain it. The white skin dissolves away, revealing more black sinewy muscle.

Unfortunately, no matter how much Hamon Lisa Lisa funnels into the demon, it refuses to completely fall. Any other demon would have disintegrated by now. Clearly, it's in pain, but they can still see it still attempting to tear off the scarf from its arm, which it struggles to do since its good arm is trapped by the fabric made from the yarn of the Satiporoja beetle. It tries to wrap its bad arm around the scarf to pull it off of its good one, but without fingers and weakened by the Hamon coursing through its body, it’s unsuccessful.

The next course of action Malleuk takes is completely unexpected. Caesar swears that even Joseph, a man who lives to annoy by predicting his friends’ and foes’ next moves, could not have seen this coming.

It moves the beetle scarf trapped arm into the hole on its face. The arm disappears into the void. It’s an uncanny image, watching an arm go into a face, knowing that the length of the arm should exceed the length of the head. Lisa Lisa, feeling something wrong, pulls her scarf back, but is shocked to see that the parts of it that had trapped Malleuk’s arm had disappeared, leaving a sharp cut in the fabric. Looking over to the demon, it removes its arm from its head, or at least what’s left of it. Half of his arm is gone, a pristine cut all that remains.

Unwilling to let go of the momentum, the demon sprints towards Lisa Lisa. The Hamon master gets ready to dodge and defend, but suddenly, the demon’s head recoils back as its legs try to carry it forward, putting it in free fall.

Ever an opportunist, Lisa Lisa uses her scarf to entangle one of the demon’s legs. Being pulled in two opposing directions, Malleuk is suspended horizontally. The demon struggles, especially as Lisa Lisa and Joseph both start letting their Hamon flow.

Once again, an unholy screech pierces their surroundings. But this time, the miasma surrounding them concentrates around Lisa Lisa and Joseph, choking them. Caesar watches the sparks weaken and knows that they’re running out of time.

This is their last shot.

Taking nearly all the soap he has left, he forms a large variant of his bubble cutter. Just a single bubble with a wider cutting disk than usual. It takes a significant amount more ripple to maintain its shape and spin. He takes a deep breath to steel himself, then launches the bubble right at Malleuk’s throat, trying to do what Joseph wanted to achieve just mere moments ago.

The disk slices straight through, beheading it. Its body falls limp to the floor, and the head bounces off the lawn before rolling to the side. Joseph and Lisa Lisa fall back due to the sudden absence of tension.

They watch the body start to dissolve into dust, getting blown away with the night wind. The miasma surrounding the area begins to fade, and it’s easier to breathe. Caesar didn’t realize how heavy his body felt due to the fog’s influence until it faded. Finally, Malleuk’s head dissolves as well, as if it was never there.

The moment the last particle of dust is caught in the wind, Caesar races towards Joseph, whose distracted eyes follow the remnants of Maelleuk as they float away in the air.

He reaches out, holding Joseph’s face in between his palms. Joseph’s eyes go wide, teal filled with confusion. Caesar ignores him though, scanning the Brit’s face for any residue of the curse marring his skin. The lighting offered by the moonlight and a couple of lamps in the area is barely enough. Caesar wants to drag him back indoors and make one hundred percent sure that the curse will no longer plague him.

“Hey Caesarino, I know I look good, but you’re kinda making me nervous!”

Caesar watches Joseph’s lips move but can’t hear anything. It’s then that he remembers that there are soap bubbles still in his ears. He uses Hamon to release them, the sounds of the world reentering his ears making him jerk a bit. Joseph also seems to realize the same thing for himself, considering the way he tilts his head and starts smacking his right ear to try and get the water out.

Looking at Joseph’s right hand forces him to remember the horrifying scene of watching Malleuk tear Joseph’s arm off. His eyes wander over, looking for Joseph’s other arm on his person, praying that it was just an illusion.

He pales when he sees a hand-less left arm lying limp at the brunette’s side.

“Jojo, your hand–!”

Caesar grabs the appendage in question. Too upset at the sight of the other man’s lost limb, it takes him a second more to realize that there’s no blood.

In fact, all that’s there is smooth, rounded skin. It’s as if…

Lisa Lisa strides over, carrying Joseph’s lost arm. It looks like she already removed his ever persistently worn gloves. The fingers reflect the moonlight in a way that is impossible for something made of flesh and blood. It must have been obvious at the moment she picked it up that the arm was not what it seemed.

She hands it over to Joseph, who has enough self-consciousness to know that this is an awkward situation as he takes the mangled artificial arm back. Her expression is complicated, torn between looking like she wants to reprimand him and being concerned for him.

“You should have informed me about this. I suppose this explains why the Hamon from your left always felt different.”

Caesar remembers Lisa Lisa scolding Joseph a couple of times during training for his imprecision when it came to his left. At the time, he had thought it was because Joseph was too heavy-handed with little delicacy. Bitterly, he thinks that they know the reason now for it.

He then remembers their conversation when Joseph came over for dinner, the way the Brit purposefully removed his glove from his right hand, and not his left. The way that he always wore gloves no matter what. Caesar tries to tell himself to not be offended. But he thought they were friends. He thought that they were close enough that Joseph could tell him that he had a goddamn artificial arm.

Anger, rejection, and depression swirls in his heart, a volatile cocktail in his heart ready to blow. He barely keeps himself in check from grabbing at Joseph and shake the answers out of him.

His feelings must leak through because Joseph looks desperate and tries to explain himself.

“I just didn’t want you to act differently because I don’t have an arm! It’s really not a big deal, I was born like this anyways! Really, I’m used to it!”

“That’s not the point! I thought – I thought you could trust me enough to tell me that!”

“Caesar. Joseph. It’s late. I suggest the two of you return to your rooms and get some sleep.”

It’s clearly Lisa Lisa’s way of telling them to cool their heads before starting a screaming match in the middle of the night, but for once, Caesar can’t find it in himself to follow her orders. He watches her move back to the residential building. Joseph whips his head between Caesar who stands still and Lisa Lisa who fades in the distance.

“Hey, hey, should we follow her?”

Clenching his teeth at Joseph’s nonchalance, he wrenches Joseph’s exposed wrist and pulls him up. Mistaking this movement as a pure move of assistance, the taller man doesn’t expect to be yanked along. He tries to dig in his feet like a stubborn child and asks, “What the hell’s the big idea, Caesar? Let go!”

Caesar whirls his head around and Joseph stiffens at the furious look on his face. Joseph loves the sound of his own voice, he’ll be the first to admit it. He’ll take his own voice over any yawning silence most of the time. But it’s real damn obvious that Caesar’s fucking pissed. It’s enough that Joseph forces his jaw closed with an audible snap. He trails behind Caesar, letting himself get tugged along like a sad puppy on a leash.

Still, Caesar’s feeling generous enough to at least offer the dog a small bone.

“Our conversation from before isn’t over.”

Caesar didn’t know it was possible for a giant man to make himself look so small, but somehow, Joseph manages it, hunching his shoulders and curling in on himself.

“...Can we at least talk in the kitchen? I want tea.”

The blond doesn’t acknowledge the request, but he does direct them towards the kitchen, a small victory for Joseph. It’s only after they cross the threshold that Caesar lets go, standing guard at the doorway, refusing to give Joseph any room to escape. He also takes Joseph’s prosthetic which had been tucked under the Englishman’s armpit during their little walk. He ignores the “Hey!” as he refuses to give it back. The artificial limb was crushed during the fight anyways. It’s not of any use at the moment, so it shouldn’t matter if he keeps a hold of it.

Caesar keeps a sharp eye on Joseph. He can tell that the other man doesn’t like it. His movements as he grabs for the tea canisters is jerky, less confident than the way he would effortlessly brew tea back in the psychology lounge. His eyes dart between a black tea and an herbal one. Reluctantly, the Englishman puts the black tea back, probably deciding that caffeine at 3 AM in the morning is a bad idea.

As Joseph puts the kettle on the stove, Caesar takes the time to examine Joseph’s prosthetic. He removes all the fabric covering it; Joseph’s glove and a wrist cover. He’s surprised at how lightweight and sturdy it is. It’s a shiny gunmetal that gleams under the kitchen lights. He knows there are plastic and silicone types now that are softer and lighter, so he wonders what made Joseph pick such a hard material. Though he has to admit, it doesn’t look cheap. There are many joints and the hand seems to be quite capable of moving to suit Joseph’s needs.

Absentmindedly, he plays with the hand even when he switches his gaze back to Joseph, who flinches when Caesar’s eyes catch his. Somehow, it’s reassuring to hold in his arms, even though it’s just an inanimate object. Maybe it’s the fact that it’s still a part of Joseph. He refuses to think about the implications of being so attached to what’s Joseph’s.

“Could you, I don’t know, not look at me like that?”

“How exactly am I looking at you, Jojo?”

“I don’t know! God, it’s like – you know what, never mind! Whatever! Do what you want!”

Joseph shuffles around, finding some mugs and tea infusers. Caesar can’t help but notice how deftly Joseph handles the chores, even with one hand. He’s used to this.

A mug of hot tea is placed on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Confident that Joseph will not escape from the room, he takes a seat, lifting the drink to his lips, inhaling the earthy and floral scent from the mug. Joseph grabs his own mug, placing his elbows on the island, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he also takes a slow breath. After letting the steam open up his sinuses, he takes a couple of small sips. Caesar’s breath hitches at the sight of the taller man’s tongue darting out and tracing his plump bottom lip.

The impulse to reach out and trace the path of Joseph’s tongue with his thumb – with his mouth – and find out if it’s as soft as it looks makes Caesar’s heart clench.

But he’s brought back to reality when he remembers the reason why they’re here.

“Joseph.”

It says a lot about their relationship that with just the tone of his voice, Joseph can see where this conversation is going. With a pathetic groan, he runs his hand across his face, little whines coming from his throat. It takes a moment before Joseph finally lets his hand fall and opens his eyes.

“I should’ve made the Darjeeling,” he mutters mournfully.

Caesar ignores him. Pushing on. “When did you remember? What do you remember?”

Joseph takes a seat in one of the stools, settling in. “Bloody fuckin hell luv’, where do I even begin?”

“From the beginning.”

“Which one?” Joseph laughs bitterly. Caesar glares.

Joseph sighs deeply. “I started remembering the last life when I was three.”

Peridot eyes go wide. He can’t even imagine. “You knew since you were three?”

Joseph shrugs. “Yeah, I don’t know what to tell you. It was pretty shite. I got the worst fever in my life. I think I was just over 40°C ‘cause my brain couldn’t handle it. If I really had to guess, I think Hermit Purple might have something to do with why I could remember so early and clearly. I remembered stuff backward too.”

“What do you mean, ‘backward’?”

“The memories from right before I died came back first. I didn’t remember everything, and a lot of the memories from when I was really old were fuzzy. Honestly, it’s not like I remember every little thing anyways, memory doesn’t work like that. I mainly remembered the big events and sometimes I’d get the little moments but mostly it’s like… fucking continued trauma or something because you can’t forget it, even if you don’t want to remember it.”

The way Joseph describes these memories as something painful brings out something visceral in him. It hurts that Joseph is making it seem like the past life is only a burden to be carried.

“Are you saying that meeting me – back then and now – is only a trauma?” He can’t keep the bite out of his voice.

Joseph clenches his fist and slams it down on the table. “No! Never! Meeting you – being your friend – was, and still is one of the best things that could have happened to me! Honestly, I don’t get why you decided to stay with me if you remembered! If anything, meeting me should be a trauma for you! I don’t get it!”

Caesar can’t believe how little Joseph understands his feelings. Then again, Joseph always leaned towards thinking that Caesar thought little of him. Even during the Hell Pillar Climb, Joseph had thought he was angry with him when he’d been worried. How can he make Jojo understand how much space he takes up in his head and heart?

Ruffling his head, Joseph huffs, trying to let go of some of his tension. “Anyways, how much do you remember, Caesar?”

“...I didn’t remember anything until I first met you.”

Joseph huffs out a sarcastic laugh, regret clear on his face. Caesar swears if he says anything, he’s going to do something he’s going to regret. Luckily, Joseph keeps his thoughts to himself.

“I only remember things from around the time when we were training and fighting the Pillar Men.”

There’s a furrow in Joseph’s eyebrows as he nods.

“Jojo.”

Bright green eyes lock on with teal.

“Did my Hamon reach you?”

Joseph’s bottom lip wobbles and the furrow between his brow creases further. He looks on the edge of tears.

Shakily, he gives an, “Uh-huh,” and nods. Joseph takes a couple of seconds for his breathing to stabilize before continuing. “After I received your Hamon, I battled Wamuu in a chariot race. I fought for you, you know. I don’t know if you were, but I swore you were by my side. I won using your bandanna. I wish I could’ve kept it though.”

“What about Kars?”

“Lisa Lisa fought Kars first on a stone place that was pretty high up and had some spikes down below. Sadistic assholes, honestly. He wasn’t like Wamuu thought. He was a dirty bastard and took her by surprise. I tried to help but he strung her up and I had to figure out how to kick his ass while trying not to let Lisa Lisa drop. I managed to figure it out and beat him, but he got a hold of the Aja and became a fucking Animorph or something when he became the ‘Ultimate Life Form’–”

“He did what? He got the Aja?! Jojo, did you die?! Did the world end?!”

“What? No! I mean – yeah. Like, I died, but I didn’t die there! I beat him!”

“How?! He can’t be affected by the sun anymore! He should have had no weaknesses!”

“Jeez let me finish! So yeah, Kars was able to stand in the sun. Hamon didn’t even work on him anymore. Asshole was able to transform into any animal he wanted. He sprouted wings like a bird and started chasing after me,” Joseph flaps his arms to imitate what Caesar can only assume is Kars. “So I had to hijack a fighter plane and had an air battle with him.”

“You can fly a plane?! Wait, where did you even get a plane?!”

“C’mon Caesarino, keep up with the program, don’t you remember? My dream was to be a pilot back in the day, y’know? Sure, maybe I wasn’t ‘licensed’ or whatever – ”

“You flew a plane. Without a being certified.”

“I eventually my license, okay?! Stop interrupting! Okay, so Kars refused to go down, but there was a volcano nearby, and I figured, hey, if a fighter plane won’t do it, maybe nature can.”

“Jojo, you can’t be saying…”

“I slammed into Kars with the plane and dove straight for the volcano.”

“Mamma mia…” Caesar clutches his head. He knows Joseph’s brain beats to the rhythm of its own drum, but this, this is the story of a madman.

“Jumped out right at the last moment, Stroheim was there to help me out there, considering there was no parachute. But the stubborn bastard refused to die even when he was nearly melted alive. My mistake was thinking he was dead. Not that I could really go down into the magma and check. That was when I lost this,” Joseph rubs at the stub where the rest of his arm should be.

Caesar takes Joseph’s prosthetic from his lap and places it on the island. He motions to Joseph, requesting. The brunette leans over and easily places the short limb in Caesar’s palm, calm as he watches his partner examine the “battle wound”. Caesar repeatedly runs his hands over the area, trying to feel out for any remnants of a scar, but the skin is unbroken and smooth.

“You said you were born like this.”

“I was! You would think that being born again would mean that I don’t have to deal with this anymore. Unlucky I guess,” Joseph shrugs, but Caesar can’t help but get the sense that Joseph has thought about the meaning of his limb being missing more than he’s revealing.

“Did it hurt? Does it hurt?”

A wry smile. “Hmm. Can’t say getting your hand cut off was the best feeling. I’m used to it now, it’s alright.”

He’s dancing around the topic again which probably means it did. A pang hits him at the thought of Joseph suffering and in pain. He wonders if someone born without an arm can feel phantom limb, or if it can get carried over from the past. He pins that thought. There’s too much to talk about already tonight. Letting go, he realizes that Joseph still hasn’t explained how he defeated Kars.

“Oh right. I brought the Aja with me and managed to stop Kars from dealing me the killing blow. That’s when the volcano erupted and launched me and Kars into the sky. Didn’t know that the force of a volcano could launch us into the stratosphere. My lost arm and some rocks slammed into Kars who was trying to fly away and took him even farther up into space. And we never heard from him since. We saved the world!”

Joseph spreads his arms out wide with a flourish.

Caesar really, truly wants to call bullshit, but even Joseph can’t come up with a convoluted story like that.

“What then?”

“Huh?”

“You said you eventually died. When, where, how?”

Joseph glances towards the clock where time steadily creeps forward. “You sure–”

“Yes.”

Caesar gets the feeling if he doesn’t hear about most of this now, his next chance will not come so soon. One all-nighter is nothing for a uni student anyways.

“Well, I married Suzi Q–”

“You married Suzi Q?!” The way that Joseph followed her with his eyes, the fondness in his gaze, it clicked. In retrospect, considering how Joseph worked so hard to save her life during the battle with Esidisi, and their mutual playful banter, it wasn’t too hard to imagine. On another level, it would be difficult being together with a stranger who didn’t understand the idea of Hamon, Pillar Men, and vampires. Even now, during their training to fight demons, he remembers them bickering during dinner and the way they seemed to slot together for chores easily. He wonders how much of an influence the previous life has on them.

In one sense, he’s glad he only started to remember after his anniversary of death. On the other, he envies Suzi’s ignorance on the matter, not needing to think about every move and if it connects to the past or not. Then there’s Joseph, who’s also enviable in how clear his memories are and how long he’s had to process them. Caesar feels like a late bloomer, still in muddy waters, without enough time to learn how to swim.

Now, he has to deal with this curveball from Joseph about Suzi being a past life wife. Is he going to have to give up his newly found affection even before it begins? Does the Brit still hold a flame for his former wife?

Joseph flinches when he asks. “It’s not like that! I mean, I loved her. I still do, just in a different way now. I want her to be happy. Anyways, she doesn’t even remember that. Besides, she deserves better than me – umm, I’ll get to that in a bit, something happens when I’m in my sixties that comes back around right before I turn eighty…”

Caesar hates the relief that circles through him when Joseph tells him that he has no plans to continue on from the previous life. Then there’s some suspicion and protectiveness towards Suzi Q, because what did Joseph do? And then there’s shock because eighty? Merda, he lived at least to eighty.

There’s less flair in the story of the years that come after. Suzi and he had a beautiful little girl, Holly. Joseph became a fucking millionaire working in the real estate industry (he remembers that Joseph’s a business major and calls him out for cheating at college). He ends up funding the Speedwagon foundation and involving himself on the task to protect the world from supernatural forces. Oh, side note, Lisa Lisa was his mom and remarried (Caesar calls bullshit but then thinks and is frightened by how similar they look). That conversation spirals for a couple of minutes before they get back on track.

Joseph asks Caesar then how much he remembers about his grandpa and father and their connection to the Joestar family. The Italian has to admit, not much. It leads Joseph to have to explain the entire history of Dio. Caesar wants to ask how that’s involved with Joseph, but eventually, it all comes together. The discovery of stands. Holly getting sick. A trip to Egypt with a band of companions. A story of adventure, companionship, joy, and loss.

The kinship he has with Avdol makes more sense in context.

Then years later, another new adventure. Stand arrows. Murders in Morioh. The reveal of an affair. An illegitimate son. Gaining a new daughter. Joseph gets beat over the head with his own prosthetic during this story. Caesar only stops because Joseph does truly seem regretful about the whole affair, to both Suzi and Tomoko, but also for not being in Josuke’s life, and the burden he put on Jotaro who had to settle his mistakes.

Then having to bury his grandson and his great-granddaughter. Being too old and frail in the hospital too often to be able to do anything to help them.

Finally, his story ends with him passing away quietly in his sleep at ninety-four.

Honestly, at the end of it all, Caesar can only wonder how Joseph keeps it all in his head. They barely even touched on their present lives. Ninety-four fucking years plus nineteen more in his current life.

Still, he can’t help but probe.

“What about now?”

Joseph puffs up his cheeks and blows out air as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. In short, since he started remembering at three, and backward at that, life was an interesting experience. Erina was his grandmother again, but this time, he was able to meet his grandfather, Jonathan as well. Dio, a mortal enemy in the past, did not fall into the depths of depravity in this life and was a grouchy great uncle. Speedwagon was still a loved companion and came into a ton of money. None of them seemed to have any memory.

Jonathan passed away around when Joseph was ten, and Dio followed soon after. He wonders if it’s a connection, a tie of fate between the two of them that continues.

He lived a typical, normal life. His father still passed away working for the military. He doesn’t know his mother or if Lisa Lisa is his mother in this life as well.

For most of his life, he tried to travel the world, retrace the footsteps of the past life, just to see if other companions were reborn in the world as well. Especially after figuring out that Stands and Hamon were still usable, and encountering new types of enemies.

It was at seventeen that he was going on a trip to Egypt for a graduation trip and somehow encountered his friends from the battle against DIO.

After that encounter, he went to Japan to see Jotaro again and found Josuke and Joylene.

Then, during college, there was a study abroad opportunity. Location, Venice.

“I didn’t know if I wanted to go or not.” What Caesar hears is “I didn’t know whether I wanted to meet you again.”

“Somehow, I convinced myself that it’d be a good trip down memory lane. What are the chances of meeting you again anyways? There’s no way we could go to the exact same uni, and even if we did, there’s gotta be a bunch of people. What are the chances?” Joseph puts his chin in his hands and looks away, muttering, “What are the chances?”

Caesar clenches his jaw at the thought of Joseph having chosen not to take the chance. “Did you not want to meet me so badly?”

Joseph closes his eyes and sighs heavily, his shoulders hunching in. “I didn’t want you to be burdened by the past. You died so damn young. In my head, I know it’s not the same as the last time. Dio was still an ass, but he wasn’t a psychopath. I’m not Jotaro’s grandpa anymore, or Josuke’s father. Grandpa Jonathan lived happily with Granny Erina for a long time. But I still couldn’t help but worry. What if meeting me makes something start to move?”

What could he even say? Jojo, who was left behind and is forced to be gripped by anxiety in his next life. He, who died deplorably young, barely more than a child. What kind of tragedy is this?

“You came though. You found me.”

Joseph grins at him, eyes wet, voice choked. “Asshole, you found me. Hey Caesar, I’m pretty selfish. Even though I knew that it might be bad, that something might happen, I still wanted to see you. I wanted to see a you that was twenty-one. I was really, really happy.”

The tears finally fall, rolling down his cheeks, gathering on his jaw as Joseph says, “Thank you for being born.”

Caesar’s own eyes and nose start burning at Joseph’s sincerity. He has to bite the inside of his cheek and dig his nails into his legs to prevent his own tears from falling. Is he allowed to have expectations? Is he allowed to hope?

Joseph wipes his tears with his arms with a snort. “Damn, that was embarrassing.” He gets up, putting their mugs in the sink before looking at the clock. “It’s almost five now. I don’t know ‘bout you, but I’m damn beat. ‘S time for bed.”

Caesar feels like a wet towel that’s been through the wringer. He can’t help but agree, but at the same time, after hearing Joseph’s story, having him basically hand over his heart, the older man is reluctant to leave his junior. So he’s confused but doesn’t question too much when Joseph follows him all the way to his room. He just gives the brunette a questioning look, to which the man shrugs and simply says, “You should probably make sure the curse is really gone right? If something happens to me, you can go call Lisa Lisa, right?”

It’s an obvious excuse. But he’s too tired and feels too raw to reject him. And really, he doesn’t want to. A memory floats in his head of sleeping beside Joseph when the exhaustion became too much in the past life when the bruises on Joseph’s eyes got too dark and he could no longer keep up Hamon breathing into the night and would wake up choking. He wonders if Joseph remembers the same.

Joseph steals an oversized t-shirt Caesar has laying around and strips down to his boxers before jumping into bed first. Caesar quickly follows. Joseph’s shoulder and leg press into his, warmth radiating like a furnace under the comforter. He finds he’s tempted to take Joseph’s hand, wanting the reassurance that he’s still there. Fighting his own exhaustion, he waits for Joseph’s breathing to even out before he allows himself to reach out, but he forgets that he’s reaching out for Joseph’s left arm. His stomach drops, and his heart aches at the emptiness where the hand is supposed to be. Still, he makes due, turning over, and pressing his forehead against Joseph’s shoulder.

It’s only then, that he allows himself to succumb to the weariness that hits his bones.

★☆★☆★☆

For the first time since they got to the island, Lisa Lisa lets them get up at their own pace.

At lunch, she lets them know that an evening boat will be coming to take them to the mainland so they can get back to focusing on classes. Luckily, the two of them have little more than clothes and their textbooks and laptops to pack up, but they still end up spending most of the day in their rooms cleaning up considering how late they woke up. Before they know it, it’s time for dinner, where Suzi makes Caesar promise to come to visit more and to tell Joseph to come back to Italy again. Even Lisa Lisa looks a little lonely at watching her pupils leave, a little softer. He can’t help but wonder if, in this life, she and Joseph are still connected in some way.

Before they need to board the boat, Suzi brings them both in for a long hug, wailing about how it’s going to be so quiet without them around and how she’s going to miss them both. Caesar feels like he can understand at that moment, with her kindness enveloping them, how Joseph ended up loving and marrying her.

But Suzi’s comment during dinner, about Joseph needing to return to Italy one day, reminds him how limited their time together is.

On the boat, smoking a cigarette, he has a little more time to digest Joseph’s story with a clearer head.

The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes how entwined with the past life Joseph is. He grew up around a man who had killed him (albeit unsuccessfully, thanks to the ingenuity of his grandson), met his grandfather, who could be argued to have been the start of it all, found most of his companions from his Egypt adventure, and his other descendants. Even Caesar, from what he can tell, is still connected, whether it be by something like destiny or fate, to people in similar ways as in the past life, even if some circumstances and timings may be different. He doesn’t know what it means, or even if means anything. Is it a blessing, or a curse to be able to try again?

He looks at Joseph across from him, hair ruffling due to the salty sea wind under the moonlight. He wonders what he thinks about all this. Does Joseph consider himself to be just a continuation of “Joseph” of the past? Or is Joseph now separate from “Joseph” then? What about him? Caesar remembers “Caesar” but it still doesn’t quite feel like he is “Caesar”, considering how late he started to remember. But Joseph has been able to remember since he was three.

All this time, has Joseph been looking for Caesar or “Caesar”?

If Joseph is looking for “Caesar”, is Caesar enough?

Caesar knows he’s being hypocritical. He knows that his dreams have only further enhanced his affections towards Joseph. But still, every moment he has had with Joseph now is incredibly precious to him.

When they get off the boat at the port, Caesar can’t help himself.

“Jojo.”

Joseph’s familiar eyes lock with his. It’s now that he realizes how happy Joseph looks every time Caesar calls his name, whether it be Jojo or Joseph. And how happy he is every time he gets a response when he calls, “Caesar.”

In his head, he knows that he’s special in Joseph. It’s a fact. He contemplates how much Joseph clearly thinks of him, how much he protects him, and moves to pursue his happiness. It’s hard to call these actions anything other than a sign of love.

Still, he wants – no, needs – to hear it from Joseph himself.

“Jojo, what do you think of me? Not just “Caesar” of the past, but me, Caesar now.”

Joseph’s eyes glimmer with confusion for a second and Caesar can’t help but worry that Joseph thinks of Caesar as just a continuation of “Caesar”. But the Brit’s head turns quickly. His expression softens with a small smile tinged with melancholy. The Italian freezes as Joseph places his right hand on his shoulder and leans into his right ear, speaking lowly.

“Listen good, okay? Don’t forget what I’m going to say, because this is never going to change, no matter what. I love the Caesar I met for only a month in 1939, I love the Caesar I met a couple of months ago, and I’ll love Caesar again and again, no matter how many times I meet you.”

Heat floods through Caesar’s veins. His heart pounds against his chest. Then he feels plump lips press against the corner of his mouth and his heart nearly stops. He regrets the tiny distance that Joseph chooses not to cover, and before he can try and catch the other man’s lips with his own, they’re gone and he feels Hamon flood through him, keeping him stuck.

Joseph takes the opportunity to race away in the night, gym bag and backpack bouncing against him. Even when Caesar manages to break free of the Hamon trap and tries to chase, the brunette sticks his hand out and flings himself over the roof of a building farther away, where Caesar can’t easily reach.

The blond starts spewing loud curses at Joseph in his native language. Elated, confused, and frustrated, he crouches down on the ground, chin against his chest and hands laced behind his head, trying to force the lump in his throat away.

Chapter Text

After that night, Caesar doesn’t hear from Joseph once.

Not one call, not one text.

For two weeks, the psychology lounge is eerily empty. Caesar sits there every Thursday after three and sometimes other days too. He doesn’t try to contact Joseph, He doesn’t want to look desperate, despite how desperate he feels. He just sits in his usual spot and studies, sometimes sitting in Joseph’s usual spot instead. Once, he digs through the cabinets and finds Joseph’s tea collection, and attempts to make a cup. It isn’t the same.

The only benefit there is from Joseph’s clear avoidance of him is that it gives Caesar some time to think. And he needs it because his emotions are a mess.

He relives the moment where Joseph essentially swore to love him forever, the press of soft, warm lips near the corner of his mouth, swinging between feeling the flash of regret at not being able to overlap those lips on his own and anger at Joseph for running away, not only at that moment, but even now.

And that barely even touches on all the new information that Joseph dumped on him about his past life.

The man lived nearly five times longer than he did in their past. Nearly six if he considers the years Joseph has lived in this life. He’d been concerned about how Joseph saw him versus his past life, but he’s barely considered how he feels about Joseph or himself. Having only recently regained his memories, he feels less like “Caesar” and more like Caesar with the chapters of his life edited a bit with some enlightenment and a new important prologue. But can Joseph say the same? Is Joseph a man over 100 years old, or 19 years old with memories of nearly 100 years influencing his 19? Is it right for him, a man who only really feels 21 even technically with 41 years of life experience, to be with a man with potentially over 100 years of life?

Does it really matter? Pillar Men, vampires, Hamon, and now demons in this life – it’s already all things out of fantasies. In comparison, reincarnating and finding someone you loved before, falling in love with them again – though miraculous – is still almost believable compared to all the nearly impossible nonsense they’ve dealt and are dealing with.

But if Joseph says he loves him, that should be enough.

Or at least, it should be – it would be if Joseph would just come out and be with him for the little time they have left!

The little time they have left…

Is Jojo avoiding him because he’ll be leaving?

In retrospect, it’s on-brand for him. Joseph, then and now, was (is?) prone to hiding things because he thought it would be best, regardless of how the people he was trying to protect felt. He remembers how adamant Joseph was during their Pillar Man training days about not letting his grandmother know about his circumstances and how truly dire everything was. Now that Caesar’s the one being “protected”, he’s realizing what a frustrating habit it is.

At this rate, he has the gut-wrenching feeling that if he leaves things as is, Joseph is going to disappear from his life without a trace.

Caesar wonders if Joseph realizes that the moment the British-born boy tries, Caesar will fucking hunt him down to give him the most painful goddamn kick in the ass he can.

He did not remember memories of his past life just to let Joseph leave his life and become a ghost.

Caesar, though he’s loath to admit it, is stubborn and straightforward. He will not let go of a bone he’s been given.

Especially when he still hasn’t gotten a chance to steal the breath away from Joseph fucking runaway Joestar.

He stands abruptly off the sofa in the psychology lounge and starts packing up his things then digs out his phone.

He’s reached his limit.

No more waiting, no more thinking.

Besides him, there’s no one close to Joseph that he can contact. In both the past and now, he’s never met Erina, who is probably undoubtedly the most precious person to Joseph’s heart. He doesn’t know how Speedwagon falls in all of this, he hasn’t been as involved in the supernatural business, or at least not in a way that’s caused Caesar to encounter him. Suzi Q is a mere friend in this life, seemingly with no memory of the past.

But there is one possibility that he’s intimately connected with. The chances aren’t 100%, but if by some chance…

“ Hey Jojo, where did you learn to breathe Hamon?”

Joseph shoots a wry grin towards where Lisa Lisa had just walked, eyes distant.

“ My mom.”

Caesar’s fingers dexterously trace down the number he keeps on top of all others on his phone. He listens to the dial tone until a familiar, comforting voice echoes in his ears.

“Caesar, is everything alright?”

“Ah! Maestra, I’m sorry to bother you!”

“Was there something you needed?”

“No – well yes… I – I was just wondering if you heard anything from Jojo. I haven’t been able to contact him for the past two weeks. I was worried and I was curious if you’ve heard from him.”

The other side of the line is quiet for a moment. The silence makes him want to fidget. He almost calls out, wondering if they got disconnected, but his mentor finally answers before he has the chance.

“My apologies Caesar. I was just surprised Joseph didn’t contact you. A couple of days ago, I went with Joseph to the hospital to get his prosthetic arm replaced. He needs to get used to the new limb, but he’s doing well.”

Caesar clenches his phone tightly at the news, a pang of hurt at the fact that Joseph didn’t tell him about any of this. He wanted to be there to support Joseph as he got his new prosthetic. He can’t say he’s surprised, but he also can’t say he’s not disappointed.

Lisa Lisa has been with Caesar long enough to be able to read his silences, even over the phone apparently. He listens to her sigh in exasperation and imagines her rubbing her temples. It’s a sigh that he’s heard many times both in the past and in the present while she trained them – typically directed towards a loud brunette.

“That boy has a bad habit of saying too much while not saying what’s important. Caesar, do you want to see him?”

There’s only one answer. “I would, but Maestra –”

“I suppose he hasn’t given you his address yet. I will send it to you. And Caesar,”

Caesar instinctively straightens his back. “Yes, Maestra?”

“I know Joseph is a handful. He’s brash, lazy, and spoiled. But he’s also brilliant, softhearted, caring, and lonely, even though he’d never admit it. I wouldn’t make you deal with him if I couldn’t tell he makes you happy.”

“Maestra Lisa Lisa, you,” Caesar’s phone buzzes before he can continue. Not that he’s quite sure what he was about to say. Are you Joseph’s mother? Do you believe in reincarnation? Do you remember?

“I’ve forwarded you Joseph’s address. Call me if he’s ever being too difficult. And take care of each other. Live well, Caesar.”

The beep on the other end of the line signals that Lisa Lisa has hung up. Stunned, Caesar’s hand falls to his side.

Did he… did he just get Lisa Lisa’s approval to be with Joseph? Or did Joseph get approval to be with him?

When he finally snaps back to his senses, he remembers to check his phone. He’s surprised to find that Joseph actually doesn’t live that far from him, just a couple of blocks away in one of the luxury apartments looking over the sea. It irritates him both that Joseph has lived nearly under his nose and at the fact that Joseph, once again, is a rich brat.

He has no idea if Joseph could be home or not. All he knows is that the man should be done with classes.

He wonders what Joseph does in the time between, or at least what he did before training and fighting off demons took over their lives.

He wants to see Jojo. He wants to talk with him, learn about all the things he’s experienced in this life this time. He wants to know all his favorite foods and what he likes to do. He wants to hear him ramble about his stupid comics and manga while pretending he’s not paying attention. He wants to tell him about his own life. What he’s seen, tasted, experienced.

They didn’t have time before. They can make the time now if they try.

Caesar’s feet head toward the address texted to his phone. He reaches into his pocket and is reassured to find what he’s looking for. For good measure, he slips on his soap-soaked gloves. Knowing Joseph, he’s going to be trying to escape the moment he gets any sign that Caesar’s nearby.

When he reaches the apartment complex, he manages to slip in past the first door by holding it open for a lovely Signorina as she leaves. He blows a quick kiss in her direction before moving in.

Finding Joseph’s room isn’t difficult, but deciding what to do next is.

If Joseph’s truly in the room, knocking would only scare him off. Giving Joseph any warning at all would only quickly lead to failure.

It’s why Caesar checked for one particular item on his way to Joseph’s apartment.

He pulls out a well-worn leather pouch while falling down into a crouch. Opening it up, he glances down at the lock pick tools that peak out.

He’s lucky that despite being branded as a luxury apartment building that the doors still use conventional locks instead of the new RFID key card locks. If that were the case, he would either need to try infiltrating through the windows or bash the door open by force, both of which would quickly tip Joseph off and could involve more people - and trouble - than necessary.

He hopes there isn’t a chain. He didn’t bring bolt cutters. Would he be able to use Hamon somehow to remove the chain if he needed to? Well, that would be a problem he’d deal with after picking this lock.

Luckily, Joseph doesn’t seem to be using his deadbolt which makes Caesar’s life significantly easier (though he makes a mental note to scold Joseph about it later). Manipulating the pins and getting the plug to rotate is child’s play.

He isn’t proud of how easily the lock comes undone under his deft hands. It brings back memories of roaming the streets during his rebellious years after his father was hospitalized. If Lisa Lisa hadn’t found him and straightened him out, it’s hard to say where he would be.

Quietly and slowly, he pries the door further open and is relieved to see there is no chain. Peering through the gap, he stares down the hall and glimpses into Joseph’s living room.

From his direct line of sight, he can’t see any sign of Joseph. He glances down and notices a pair of boots tossed haphazardly on the floor, a tell-tale sign that Joseph is somewhere in the room. Elation and anxiety well up in his heart in equal measure.

He pushes himself up and gently pushes open the door and closes it behind him, making sure to use the deadbolt. Politeness and practicality get him taking off his shoes. Socks are quieter than heels.

Caesar glances at the kitchen to his right and as expected, there’s a couple of dirty dishes just sitting in the sink along with some take-out containers in the vicinity. He passes by and steps into the living room.

It’s much more normal than he expected. Then again, he’s never seen a room where Joseph’s truly felt at home. Even back on Air Supplena, 1939 and now, Joseph only had one luggage bag full of clothes and comics. It makes sense for a study-abroad student to only have the bare minimum. He imagines that Joseph found a room that already came furnished. There’s a comfortable looking pale blue fabric sofa, a glass coffee table, and a big flat-screen. The lights shining through the window draw his eyes toward the balcony. Even from the middle of the living room, he’s entranced by the view. The sun is just about to set and it lights up the sea, making it shimmer.

Unfortunately, as he’s distracted, that’s when Caesar hears the door to what must be the bedroom or bathroom swing open.

Teal meets chartreuse. It’s odd to see Joseph so underdressed and unguarded. He stands frozen in sweatpants and a loose t-shirt. A towel hangs on his neck and wild brown hair hangs a bit limp, damp from what Caesar must assume is due to coming out of the shower. He stares a while at the line where Joseph’s skin cuts off and the artificial hand begins. Still, even more than that, what he can’t help but fixate on most is the transparent frames that cover Joseph’s slowly widening eyes.

Caesar can pinpoint the moment Joseph makes a snap decision and turns his body to the patio. Undoubtedly, he plans to use Hermit Purple to make off like Spider-man.

But Caesar was prepared for this.

“Oh no you don’t–!”

Before Joseph even knew it, he had already had formed a Hamon bubble big enough to trap the larger man like during their first meeting.

Since Joseph was turned away from him as he sprinted towards the patio, he didn’t notice Caesar’s plan. Despite his ability to read his opponents, Caesar’s plan was something he didn’t predict.

Joseph pounds on the bubble barrier in irritation. His muffled voice spits curses at his blond companion.

“Caesar, you bastard! What the hell are you thinking, trapping me here!”

“Says the man trying to run away in the first place! Tell me this Jojo, if I didn’t trap you in there, would you have stayed here and talked to me if I asked?”

Joseph has one hell of a poker face, but for some reason, maybe like friendship, he’s never really bothered to maintain it around him. An expression of guilt flickers across his face, and Caesar’s heart feels heavy at the sight.

“Jojo, I’ll let you out if you promise not to run away and talk to me. Nod if you understand. If you keep yelling, you’re just going to run out of oxygen faster.”

He watches Joseph who pouts in the bubble while on his hands and knees. He knows that if he makes Joseph promise, he won’t break it. Not with him. Joseph is a man who will bend the rules to his whim and will deceive the enemy where he can, but he still has a concept of honor. The problems come when you let the man free without any reigns. And from what he’s seen so far, Joseph is almost timid when it comes to anything about him. He’s taking advantage of the guilt Joseph carries over, but in this situation, he’s willing to use that.

He watches as Joseph tries to use Hamon, but Caesar’s made sure to use enough of his own Hamon that with the amount of oxygen Joseph has left in that bubble, he won’t be able to break it.

Joseph finally seems to realize that the path of least resistance might be the best.

He nods.

Caesar presses his fingertips to the bubble and uses oppositely charged Hamon to cause the bubble to break. Joseph ungracefully collapses to the floor, directly hitting his bum. There’s a deep feeling of satisfaction at hearing the man screech and whine as he adjusts the lenses on his face.

“ Mio Dio bambino, you’re going to disturb the entire neighborhood with your yelling.”

To that, Joseph points a finger right in between his eyes and manages to wail even louder .

“You big fuckin’ arsehole! Sod! Wanker! Dickhead! What do you always call me again? Oh yeah! Cazzo! Stronzo! Cret–”

Caesar’s palm slams itself over Joseph's mouth.

“ Porco cane , do you ever shut up? Calm down coglione .”

Muffled complaints hit Caesar’s palm. But suddenly Joseph closes his eyes tightly, brow furrowing. Caesar can feel Joseph's lips trying to retract away from him.

“Hey what’s wrong?”

He can visibly see Joseph consider speaking before deciding against it. His hair sways side to side as he shakes his head.

“If you promise to be quiet, I’ll let you talk. Understand?”

Sea glass-colored eyes roll toward the heavens as if praying for strength before he nods again, this time up and down.

Caesar removes his glove and watches in mild disgust as Joseph grabs the bottom hem of his shirt and starts rubbing his tongue on it.

“Ugh! I need to spit! I forgot your gloves had fucking soap on them – god! It’s so bitter, bleh!”

Caesar barely resists keeping his hands to himself as he watches the Brit move to the kitchen sink and gargle.

“What hell kinda soap are you using Caesar, I swear the water I’m spitting out is sudsy!”

Bristling, he retorts, “Well you should’ve thought of that before you opened your big mouth, shouldn’t you!” Still, as Joseph washes out his mouth, Caesar removes the gloves and places them back into his pockets.

Eventually, Joseph returns, using the towel around his neck to wipe his mouth.

Caesar can no longer hold back the burning urge to ask one question that’s nagged at him since seeing Joseph again.

“That wasn’t there before.” He points directly at the square, thin rimmed glasses that settle comfortably on Joseph’s face. “When did that happen?”

The man in question rubs at the back of his neck and looks away in embarrassment.

“To be fair, I needed glasses around my eighties too! I just use them to read and do homework sometimes when I’m at home.”

He waves Joseph over and is warmed when Joseph’s face falls right into his outstretched hands. He turns the man’s face this way and that, appreciating this new side of Joseph. Glasses and Joseph, what a novelty.

“They look good on you. Make you look smarter. Lord knows you need it,” he teases and laughs when he feels Joseph’s cheeks puff up.

“I don’t get why girls fawn all over you, you’re fucking terrible at giving compliments.”

“Oh, you think you can do better?”

Despite their jabs, Caesar rubs his thumbs against Joseph’s cheeks and melts when Joseph reciprocates by closing his eyes and pressing his own hand against the back of his and nuzzling his nose against the Italian’s palm.

If it were any other moment, Caesar would press his lips against Joseph’s and pay him back ten – no, one hundred fold for the kiss Joseph gave him at the dock that night. But they need to talk.

“Jojo, Joseph,” he calls and watches as the taller man opens his eyes and gives his attention.

“Where were you? Why didn’t you tell me you were getting a new prosthetic? Why are you avoiding me?”

The brunette laughs bitterly, throwing out a comment of, “Too many questions, Caesarino,” before taking his hand and pulling him toward the couch. Joseph sits down heavily, slouching, like a puppet that’s had its strings cut while dragging Caesar down with him. The blond grunts at the impact, despite the softness of the cushions. Joseph’s leans, eyelashes fluttering against the top of his cheeks as he closes his eyes. The sun from the patio casts a lovely backlight, illuminating the man’s features. Caesar leans his shoulder against the back of the sofa, staring, mind quiet, watching as Joseph removes his glasses and neatly places them on the side table. He almost forgets for a moment what they’re here for in the peace.

Shoving his hand at Joseph’s shoulder, he remarks, “Don’t you dare fall asleep. You haven’t answered my questions. You’re not getting out of this that easily.”

Of course, this is Joseph Joestar, so he begins to pretend to snore obnoxiously loud just to be a little shit. For that, Caesar smacks his hand – hard – against Joseph’s chest and watches with satisfaction as Joseph wheezes.

“Talk.”

“Rude!”

“ Talk .”

The brunette tries to rub at his face with his hands, but Caesar refuses to let go of the hand Joseph used to drag him to the couch with. So Joseph settles with one hand, dragging it down his face, then ruffling his hair, a sign of nerves.

“I thought it would be better this way.”

“You thought it would be better to confess to me, then to avoid me for two weeks?”

“It wasn’t a confession.”

Caesar feels something black creep into his heart and throws away Joseph’s hand. “So you were lying to me?!”

“No! It’s not like that!”

“Then what fucking is it Joseph? Is this one of your pranks, your jokes? You think you can just swing me around like this?!”

“Caesar, calm down and listen to me!”

Joseph reclaims Caesar’s hands, both of them clutched tight. His eyes search for Caesar’s, refusing to let him look away. The older man tries to wrench away, but Joseph holds him tight, almost to the point where his hands are going to start to go numb.

“I’m saying it wasn’t a confession because that makes it sound like it was something that I just realized, but fuck Caesar, I can barely remember a time where I haven’t loved you. Loving you is just… a part of me now. It wasn’t confessing, because loving you doesn’t feel like confessing. It just… is. I don’t know how else to say it.”

His shoulders drop and he loses the will to fight. Caesar has always been entranced by Joseph’s eyes. The clarity and honesty in them when he delivers his affections make him tremble. Joseph always teases Caesar for being a Casanova, but Joseph is a damn heartbreaker.

He tries to keep himself together. “Then help me understand.”

It’s Joseph’s turn to look away. He looks toward the floor, looking pained. His hands let go of Caesar’s and fall towards his sides before Caesar can try to take them back.

“You died to save me.”

He remembers dying, but it doesn’t feel real. Even if he felt and remembered every traumatic moment of his death, he’s sure he wouldn’t regret it. He had been ready to lay down his life from the moment his father had given his own life to save him.

“Joseph, that’s not your fault.”

A bitter laugh. “Easy for you to say. But you know how long I’ve thought about that day? How long I’ve thought about what I could’ve done differently? Or maybe how it would’ve been if I hadn’t been there?”

Joseph steps back, as if to prematurely distance himself. Caesar feels a frightening premonition. Frustration boils. “So what, were you planning on never showing yourself to me again? To what, try and protect me? I don’t need your protection, Jojo!”

He closes the gap between them, grabbing Joseph’s collar with his fists. “You said you loved me, past and present. But you’re being selfish! You’re just living in the past, trying to relieve your guilt instead of looking at me now! You’re doing all of this just assuming everything will be the same even though it’s not! You haven’t even asked me how I feel! Maybe I want you to stay by my side, even if it means risking–”

“No! I don’t fucking care, Caesar! I can’t go through that again! If staying away gives you even one percent better chance of getting old, I’m going to fucking take that chance! Do you know how many people I had to watch die and bury because of the goddamn Joestar legacy?”

His grip loosens and he takes a sharp breath at the sight of tears rolling down Joseph’s face.

“I want you to live to a hundred, no, a thousand. You deserve to get old, get married, have a family, have kids. I want your dream to come true this time.”

Oh, this man. This stubborn, infuriating, loving man. How much guilt and trauma has he been carrying all this time? How much is he willing to sacrifice for him?

When will he realize that what Caesar wants is right in front of him?

He tries to wipe away Joseph’s tears, despite the man trying to wiggle away from his touch. The Italian moves his fists away from Joseph’s collar and to his back, caging the taller man in his arms. One hand moves to the back of Joseph’s head and pulls it down to rest on his right shoulder. He feels Joseph resisting the entire time, hands pushing against his chest, shaking his head. But Caesar’s not giving up. He rocks and sways on his heels with Joseph and rubs his hand in comforting circles on the brunette’s wide back.

Over and over he whispers, “ Tesoro , I’m here, I’m here. I’m alive, you’re alive, we’re here. ”

Eventually, Joseph stops resisting but his shoulders tremble and Caesar can hear his breath stutter and his shoulder feels damp. Joseph moves his arms to grip the back of Caesar’s shirt, no doubt stretching it out, but the blond can’t bring himself to mind.

He waits until Joseph’s shoulders stop trembling to say, “You ran away so fast that night that I didn’t even get a chance to respond.”

The Brit’s face stays buried on Caesar’s shoulder, his reply muffled. “I didn’t need a response. I told you, I just love you. I just want you to be happy.”

Caesar huffs in exasperation. “Like I said before, selfish. What if I wanted to respond, Jojo?”

“You don’t have to.”

“You’re still terrible at listening to me. I told you, I want to . But Jojo, I want you to look at me when I tell you.”

“When you tell me I’m stupid?”

“ Mio Dio Jojo, I know you know. Your trick is predicting your opponent’s next thoughts. Don’t be a coward and try to run away here. Listen and accept my feelings, stronzo .”

Tugging at Joseph’s hair, he waits for the man to straighten up. The area around his eyes are red and his face is blotchy. He looks like a mess. There’s definitely tears and snot on his right shoulder. And yet Caesar can’t help but think there’s nowhere else and no one else he’d rather be with.

“Joseph Joestar, I loved you then, and I still love you now,” he strokes Joseph’s neck, feeling elated when he feels the man shudder against his palm. “You say you want me to be happy, but I’m happiest when I’m with you. I want to stay by your side. I want you to stay by mine.”

He takes immense pleasure in watching the red flush creep down the younger man’s face, down his neck. His hands smack against his face and he moans, hanging his head. A muffled, “ Playboy! Stupid flirt! ” escapes his hands. Caesar considers it satisfactory revenge for the way Joseph made him feel when he told him he loved him.

But of course, the man has to ruin the moment with his stomach. The sudden rumble echoes in the living room and Caesar can’t help but stare at Joseph with a dumbfounded look.

“Seriously?”

“...Would you believe me if I said your love makes me hungry?”

“This isn’t the type of hunger I’m looking for!”

“Shut up! Since you went and barged in here, I haven’t been able to eat dinner!”

It’s then that Caesar realizes how late it’s gotten and how he also hasn’t eaten. His stomach, luckily, is much more subtle about it than Joseph’s is.

He grabs Joseph’s arm and makes way to his kitchen.

“I can’t imagine you have much to cook with, but we need to figure something out or we’ll both starve. I don’t feel much like going out.”

He’s right, Joseph doesn’t have much in his cabinets or fridge. Still, Caesar manages to scrounge up enough to make a quick and dirty risotto as Joseph trails behind like a puppy, helping with any little tasks Caesar passes his way. It’s not long before they’re sitting at Joseph’s tiny little dining room table, scooping up rice.

“It’s really good,” Joseph mutters, uncharacteristically quiet.

“It’s no three-star meal, but it’ll do.”

The brunette slowly makes his way through his meal. Caesar can only assume that he’s not only digesting what’s in front of him but also everything else from the day. He doesn’t mind. He can’t help but toss everything around in his head as well because now what? Joseph loves him, he loves Joseph. Were they in a relationship now? Did the other man want to date? Did he want to date?

The answer to that question is painfully obvious.

He doesn’t have much more time to pursue the line of thought though, as Joseph seems to finally be able to keep his mouth shut any longer.

“Hey Caesar.”

“Hmm?”

“You said before that I’m assuming everything is going to be the same as before even though it’s not but isn’t it the same? I got cursed like with the rings, we can still use Hamon, and it might not be vampires or Ultimate Life Forms but there’s still demons and–”

Caesar stabs at Joseph’s forehead with the back end of his spoon and watches smugly as Joseph whines in pain.

“You’re comparing too much, idiot. You mentioned before that your grandpa and Dio lived long and died, didn’t you? That’s already a huge difference.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Your family.”

Caesar chews on another scoop of risotto as he considers his answer.

“ Nonno lived a long time. I was fortunate to meet him this time before he passed, though it was when I was young. I wonder if he met your grandfather in this life too, though I suppose now we will never know.” He grips his spoon tighter when he thinks about his father and siblings. “My father – he was killed by the Pillar Men before. I’ll admit Joseph, he came close to following the same fate this time. He was chasing down some demons that were too powerful for him alone. If Maestra Lisa Lisa hadn’t helped him, he would undoubtedly be dead. He lost one of his legs and was in a coma for years. At the time though, Maestra could only do so much while healing my father. Though I regret it, I fell into a life of crime to try and feed my brothers and sisters.”

The longer the story goes, the more Joseph’s face darkens. He wonders how much Joseph knows, how much Lisa Lisa explained to him in the past. There’s no doubt that the story is similar to how he had been before. Though he’s had more luck in this life than the last, it’s hard to say he’s been fortunate.

He stabs Joseph in the forehead again and ignores the “ Stop doing that !”.

“Get rid of that look on your face. My father’s alive and my siblings are fine. Just finish your food.”

Warily, Joseph picks his spoon back up and finishes his meal. Before Joseph can get up, Caesar’s taking the dishes and washing them in the sink.

“Caesar, stop that, you made dinner, you don’t have to wash the dishes too.”

It becomes a bit of a tussle, but eventually, Joseph manages to worm his way in next to Caesar, accepting plates to rinse while the Italian cleans the dishes with soap. Joseph needs to put on a dish washing glove to protect his artificial hand, but he manages. The shorter man is surprised at how well Joseph handles the dishes. Both of them don’t speak, enjoying the white noise from the faucet. Despite the lack of conversation, they constantly bump shoulders and forearms, giving each other small glances and smiles.

They were here. They were going to be okay.

★☆★☆★☆

Once they finish off the dishes, Caesar can’t work up the energy to want to do much at all. Looking over at Joseph, the other man also looks dazed, staring off into the distance without focus.

Caesar doesn’t want to leave though.

But before Caesar can ask to stay, maybe go take a nap together, Joseph holds the blond’s hand, lacing their fingers together. His head drops on his shoulder, nuzzling his nose against Caesar’s neck, making him shudder. He suddenly feels more awake than before.

“Jojo?”

“Mhmm.”

“Is this okay?”

“Mm. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

“Says the guy who ran away from me.”

“...You’re the one who went away first.”

There’s really nothing he can say to that, but he wants to keep Joseph from crying so he strokes the other man’s hair and just repeats what he said before. I’m here. You’re here. We’re both okay.

They fumble their way to the bedroom like that, with Joseph clinging to Caesar, barely lifting his head.

Much like the living room, Joseph’s bedroom is relatively sparse when it comes to personal touches, but significantly messier. Clothes are strewn on the floor. There are random comics that he needs to avoid stepping on. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees two group pictures, one of Joseph where he looks incredibly young, surrounded by three older men, one of which looks uncannily like him, despite the age difference, and a lovely older woman. He can only guess it’s Jonathan, Dio, Speedwagon, and Erina. Then there’s another picture of five guys and a dog posing in the desert. Joseph looks younger than he is now, but not by much. The other guys look around the same age.

He flings Joseph towards the bed, ignoring the man’s whines, and considers what to do. Napping in jeans and a tear-stained shirt seems like a bad idea.

“Jojo.”

The Brit peers up at him over the pillow the man found the time to cradle in his arms in acknowledgment. At some point, he’d also taken off his prosthetic, which sat right at the end table under the lamp.

“Do you have some clean shirts and pants that aren’t on the floor right now?”

“Bottom drawer.”

Rummaging around, he manages to find something to wear. As he slips off his shirt, he hears a wolf whistle and curses his pale skin as he feels his cheeks warm.

He throws his used t-shirt in the direction of the sound, hissing, “ Shut the fuck up! ”

Unfortunately, it doesn’t deter Joseph who only laughs while tossing aside the shirt which joins the rest of the articles of clothing on the floor. Caesar wonders if he’ll ever get it back.

Somehow, he makes it to the bed. They lay on their sides, staring at each other. Joseph’s eyes are half-lidded, slightly drowsy. Still, he brings his hand up and tucks a stray blond hair behind Caesar’s ear and his eyes squint as he smiles, threading his hand further into his scalp and massaging lightly.

Caesar’s eyelids flutter and goosebumps cover his arms.

“Your hair’s really soft.”

If Joseph keeps doing that, Caesar’s going to lose his mind. He needs to get his footing back, fast.

Struggling to keep his eyes open, Caesar moves his own hand and traces Joseph’s bottom lip, pleased with the way Joseph flushes red. He moves his head forward until there’s only an inch of room between their mouths and he can feel Joseph’s breath on his skin.

“Your lips are soft.”

And that’s all it takes before Caesar closes the gap, pressing his mouth against Joseph, keeping his eyes open just long enough to watch Joseph’s flutter shut before letting himself fall into it.

He’s wanted this for so long. Not just these couple of months. But maybe since way back when.

He nips at Joseph’s lips, tugging lightly with his teeth, rejoicing in the way Joseph’s breath stutters. He takes the opportunity to slip in his tongue, letting them slide and stroke against each other.

They separate for little moments, but it’s not long before they’re moving in, exchanging kisses over and over.

It feels like time slows to a halt as Caesar holds the back of Joseph’s neck and nips at his jaw, his neck.

He feels like he could kiss Joseph for an eternity, and still never get tired of it.

Eventually though, he pulls back.

Joseph is panting. The flush runs down his neck. His lips are swollen and glossy. Caesar probably looks the same, but he still can’t help but pat himself on the back for making the younger man look so wrecked.

But then Joseph closes his eyes and clutches at Caesar’s shirt.

“Goddammit Caesar, I don’t want to go.”

Caesar furrows his eyes in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Home. America. You’re making it so hard for me to leave you.”

His limbs grow cold at the thought of separating from Joseph when they’ve only just really found each other.

“How long?”

“Two more weeks. Just after exams.”

Caesar can feel the blood pumping faster through his veins and his heart rate jumps. Two weeks is nothing. Joseph looks melancholy.

“You know, I told myself that once I went back to America, that we’d grow apart. Maybe we’d message each other and video call at first. But Italy and America, that’s a long way away. There’s the time zone difference too. We’ll start calling less and less, and then eventually, we’ll just… move on.”

He can’t help the anger that burns through him at the lack of faith Joseph seems to have in this, in them. The blood pumping through his veins feels like fire.

“So what, you were just going to give up? You didn’t even want to try?! You can’t seriously tell me you believed that I could just forget!”

“No, I didn’t. I wanted to. It would be easier. It would’ve been easier if we both never remembered and forgot. But I can’t. I want you by my side, as a friend, as a partner, I don’t care. But I can’t lose you again.”

Caesar’s still furious. They’re still going to need to talk about this again. There’s still so much to say. But for now, he’ll take this.

“I’m still angry.”

“...Sorry.”

“You owe me for your bullshit, Joseph Joestar.”

“What do you want?”

“Come back to Italy in May, before the thirteenth.”

He wonders if Joseph knows.

He hears a wet laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. I promise.”

Joseph’s hand finds Caesar’s. One pinky curls around the other man’s.

The resentment fades a bit more.

There’s a moment of silence before Joseph breaks it to say, “I never apologized for the fight we had back then.”

It hadn’t been the first thought on his mind, but thinking about it, Caesar can summon the remnants of the feeling of betrayal, outrage, confusion, and disappointment. He’d been eager to put an end to the Pillar Men once and for all, not only for his father, but to get revenge for Mark, and to save Joseph from the rings. He wasn’t able to understand why Joseph didn’t feel the same. And then he had to trample on the bleeding scar he carried with his careless words.

Looking at it from a distance, there’s no way Joseph could have known why Caesar was so enraged by his words. They’d grown up in different worlds and had nearly opposing views. In Joseph’s view, living, surviving, returning to his loved ones, that was incredibly important.

But ever since his father sacrificed his life for him, his own life had only been a tool.

They were young, hot-headed, and stupid. If one of them had just listened to each other…

It’s too late for regrets now though. What would be more foolish now would be to carry that weight around into their new lives.

“I’m sorry too, but it doesn’t matter now.”

“What kind of apology–”

“Joseph, don’t think about the past anymore. Let’s apologize for things that happen now. Let’s make new memories.”

Caesar presses his forehead against Josephs.

“Let’s be together, this time.”

The brunette laughs, nuzzling his nose against Caesar’s.

“Yeah, let’s stay together until we’re sick and tired of each other. Until we’re old and wrinkly.”

He won’t admit it, but he’s sure despite the fact that Joseph is an uncouth, rowdy, and obnoxious mess, he won’t ever leave. Unable to help himself, Caesar pecks at Joseph’s lips again, which dissolves into another long stream of kisses until Joseph starts snickering.

Annoyed at Joseph for ruining the mood, Caesar can’t help but snap, “What’s so funny?”

“I can’t fucking believe you broke into my house! How did you even find out where I lived? I never told you.”

Suddenly embarrassed, green eyes dart away. “What else could I have done?! You didn’t leave me many options! So I asked Lisa Lisa if she knew anything.”

“That woman–!”

Caesar roughly flicks Joseph’s forehead. “Don’t be rude to our teacher!”

Rubbing at the sore spot, Joseph glares.

“Jeez, breaking into my house, breaking into my heart, and now assault. What else are you planning to do?”

He freezes. Reruns what Joseph just said in his head.

“You idiot, what are you saying–!”

He smacks Joseph’s chest a couple of times to try and hide how flustered he is. Based on the shit-eating grin that stays on Joseph’s face, it’s not working.

They playfully fight, getting their limbs tangled in the blankets and with each other until they finally tire out, fatigue from before hitting them. Joseph knocks out first, lulled to sleep as Caesar threads his fingers through his untamed hair. Caesar’s not far behind, eyelids barely able to resist gravity’s pull.

Right before he starts to feel his conscience slip, he murmurs to Joseph, “Good night Jojo. See you tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

Caesar tries his best to hide the unease he feels as he drives Joseph and Lisa Lisa to the airport. Still, every time they stop at a light, he drums his fingers restlessly against the wheel. Caesar rarely lets any bad habits like fidgeting show – especially after training under Lisa Lisa. Tapping at the wheel, jiggling his leg – that’s all things Joseph will do, not him. The knowing glance Lisa Lisa shoots him lets him know that his uncharacteristic fiddling hasn’t gone unnoticed.

For all his typical brash and bluster, Joseph is sitting rather silently in the backseat, gazing out the window. Caesar can’t help but wonder if it’s just car rides that lull him into quiet, or if it’s the fact that it’s almost time to say goodbye. The moment is ironic considering their beginnings. He vaguely remembers mocking Joseph as Mark drove the two of them and Speedwagon to where the Pillar Men had been resting. The Brit had been quiet then too, though it had been a more sullen, put-out silence.

Caesar jerks a bit once blue-green eyes lock on to his. Joseph's eyes squint as the corner of his mouth – the side that isn’t covered by his palm – rises up slightly. The only way Caesar can think to describe the expression is warm. It’s an expression that he doesn’t remember seeing before.

Ever since meeting Joseph again, his heart seems to be in purgatory, trapped between highs and lows. Small moments with Joseph, just spending time with him, feels comfortable – too comfortable. Unsettlingly so. But then, when something goes wrong between them or when he thinks about leaving Joseph's side, he feels ill and numb and like he wants to scratch at his skin.

Like now. Circumstances continuously seem to be forcing them apart. Even without the Pillar Men chasing at their heels, Joseph had been cursed, and now, the man was going back to America. 

It never seems like they have enough time.

For the rest of the drive, hours seem to drag on. But somehow, it seems like they make it there too fast. No traffic and clear skies. No delays on the way there, and no delays seem likely – at least due to weather – for Joseph’s flight.

Caesar won’t admit it aloud, but a thunderstorm wouldn’t be unwelcome.

It’s not long before Joseph unloads his luggage from the trunk at the drop-off zone. Caesar lingers beside him awkwardly. It’s not like Joseph needs any help with his luggage. All he has is a backpack and two carry-ons. Besides, he knows the taller man would only laugh or at least give him a dubious look if Caesar attempted to ask if he needed any help. They fought off demons for heaven’s sake. What is a bag full of clothes in comparison?

Still, his feet can’t seem to return to the car. The only consolation is that Lisa Lisa is there as well. Apparently sensing Caesar’s hesitance, the Hamon master moves first, approaching Joseph who raises his eyebrows to ask a wordless question. In answer, Lisa Lisa uncrosses her arms, no change in her expression. Still, that seems to be enough for Joseph, who rolls his eyes and leans in to wrap his arms around Lisa Lisa’s shoulders. Lisa Lisa seems to allow herself to give Joseph a couple of pats on the back before they step away. She walks back toward the car, but not before giving Caesar a firm pat on the shoulder and letting him know that she would park the car since they have some extra time before Joseph would need to go through security and to his terminal.

He doesn’t even have time to get out a word of protest before she walks past and is driving the car away. Joseph looks at the red sports car fading over the horizon pensively before turning back with a shrug.

“Well, seems like she’s not coming back anytime soon. Might as well escort me inside, Caesarino.”

There’s nothing else he can do but follow the other man past the automatic doors and watch as he checks in. Luckily, there aren't that many other people around and it doesn’t take long for Joseph to check in. Caesar watches from his seat at a bench as Joseph walks up waving his ticket before plopping unceremoniously next to him, jarring the metal joints.

“Nuthin’ else to do but wait now.”

Caesar wants to comment in disgust at the younger man’s posture. He sits slouched, hands shoved into the pockets of his Letterman, legs spread wide while gazing up at the ceiling. The couple of inches between them – inches Caesar typically wouldn’t think about – feels like a yawning chasm. Joseph doesn’t move, but it still feels like the distance between them is widening. He feels his mouth dry and his hands go clammy. He wants to reach out and cling to Joseph, make sure the other man can’t leave his sight. Instead, he clenches his jaw and clasps his hands together, staying silent.

What he doesn’t see while he’s wrapped up in his thoughts is Joseph’s hand traveling its way to Caesar’s. He noticeably flinches when he feels warm fingers attempting to untangle his. He whips his head over, only to see Joseph pretending to stare off into space.

“Jojo!” He hisses.

At the sound of his name, Joseph finally acknowledges his existence. He turns his head slightly, bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“What?”

“What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Joseph tugs at Caesar’s hands again and asks, “Isn’t it obvious?”

Well, when he puts it like that. “Why?”

“I just wanted to.”

Classic Joseph. A simple answer with not-so-simple implications. Unfortunately, he’s never been good at resisting his fellow Hamon disciple. Reluctantly, he unclasps his hands and lets Joseph claim his left, watching as he drags it into the space between them before letting their palms caress as their fingers lace together. The heat radiating off the Brit’s hand is grounding. It eases his anxiety just a tiny bit.

They bask in the quiet, just like in the car ride. To be fair, they’ve said most of what they needed to say days before. Even before meeting for the first time, even before realizing Joseph was Joseph, he had known this man was bound to leave the country.

He made Joseph promise to keep in touch. Weekend video calls and messages are now mandatory additions to their schedules. Joseph had complained about how strict Caesar was being about all this but was immediately cowed when Caesar brought up how Joseph had a shitty habit of running away and leaving people in the dark.

Of course, he refuses to just leave it at that. Video calls are a mere precaution.

He just needs to be patient – just until his birthday.

Being patient is something that he’s used to. Having four siblings and a comatose father for years will do that to you.

But when Joseph starts to get up to go through security, Caesar unconsciously grips his hand tighter. Feeling the resistance, Joseph stares down. After a moment, he squeezes back with a bittersweet smile.

“I don’t want to leave you either.”

Caesar wants to say,  “Then don’t go.”  But that’s not fair. That’s too much to ask. If it were the other way around, Caesar wouldn’t be able to drop everything to fly to America. Hell, the fact that they even have the means to see each other now and again is something to be grateful for.

So instead, all he can say is, “I know.”

Joseph looks around the lobby to see if anyone’s paying attention before leaning over and pressing his forehead to Caesar’s. Eyes changing in the light like sea glass catch his gaze with a soul-piercing intensity.

“I’m coming back. I’ll always come back to you.”

Caesar lifts his other hand to the curve of the back of Joseph’s neck, fingering at the hairs on his nape as he drags the taller man’s face closer – until there’s barely any space between their lips.

“You fucking better. I’ll hunt you down and beat your ass black and blue if you don’t.”

The brunette smirks. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“You’re the one making promises. I’m holding you to them.”

“You gonna make me swallow a thousand needles if I don’t?”

As he says that, Joseph maneuvers their laced hands so that their pinkies are tied instead.

“That would shut you up.”

“Think there are nicer ways of getting me to shut up.”

Caesar takes the opening, slanting his lips over Joseph’s slowly, letting their lips brush over each other. Joseph responds in kind, lips slightly parted to let the blond’s tongue slip through. Eyes half-lidded, he watches the younger man lose himself in the moment. He tries to brand this memory into his brain.

But like all things, the moment ends. Joseph’s mouth slides away despite Caesar’s teeth lightly trying to trap him, tugging at his bottom lip. He feels the air chill the shine on his lips, feeling colder without Joseph in his space. He watches the Brit swipe his tongue over his lips and fights off the urge to reclaim them.

Instead, Caesar stands, buries his face into Joseph’s shoulder one last time before letting go.

★☆★☆★☆

He finds Lisa Lisa outside, looking up at the planes streaking through the sky as smoke flows from her mouth, eyes melancholy and a cigarette hanging loosely between her index and middle finger.

She barely acknowledges his appearance besides offering him a cigarette. “Did he leave?”

Accepting the offering, Caesar places it between his lips before he lights it up with one of his custom lighters. The nicotine settles him, just a little. But as the anxiety fades, it only opens the door that reveals how cold and empty the spot at his side feels.

“He’s probably past security by now. There weren’t that many people.”

The cigarette burns down to the butt and Caesar snuffs it out under his heel.

Lisa Lisa guides him back to her car. The car feels a lot bigger without the loud presence of a certain Brit in the backseat. He can’t help but feel surprised when Lisa Lisa is the one to break the quiet.

“Caesar.”

“Maestra?”

“Joseph will come back. In the meantime, we’ll continue making sure that no one else falls victim to any curses and demons.”

All he can do is nod with conviction. Demons are ever-present. It would have been nice to have been reborn in a safer era, where all they had to worry about was mundane things like not getting the flu. They weren’t that lucky. His father wasn’t that lucky. All things considered, it’s better than last time, but they still have so much to lose.

Still, it would be a good way to pass the next couple of months. That coupled with schoolwork would hopefully be enough to distract from the shadow of the cavern that seems to have opened up next to him.

“And Caesar.”

“Yes?”

“I miss him as well.”

She doesn’t elaborate more, but Caesar can fill in the gaps. From what Joseph’s told him, it’s not too much of a surprise. After hearing about it, he started to notice more and more similarities between the two. The resemblance was there when he tried looking for it. Not easily obvious – but it was there.

Before he leaves the car once she parks on the side, he’s taken aback by a hand on his shoulder and sharp eyes.

“I’m proud of you Caesar. I hope you know that. I also hope you know that I consider you as much of a son as Joseph.”

Fuck, he wasn’t prepared for this. He wasn’t even fully prepared to see Joseph board his flight, let alone hearing from the woman he respects most, a woman who barely shows any emotion, tell him that she’s proud of him. There’s a lump in his throat bigger than before, his hands are probably trembling and clammy but he can barely tell with his heart twisting in his chest. He feels like he’s being put through an emotional wringer today and it’s all he can do to prevent tears from spilling over.

“I – thank you Maestra. That, that means a lot to me.”

He’s impressed that he manages to croak out a reply. The Italian in him is dying. He’s used to being able to spin flowery words, stringing together poetic phrases. The sentences that spill out of his mouth feel clumsy, too childish and earnest.

He curses the Joestars for making him feel so tongue-tied. He’s not looking forward to meeting Erina and making a fool of himself.

Lisa Lisa is unfazed though. She’s said her piece, and Caesar’s said his, no matter how graceless it feels.

★☆★☆★☆

After saying his goodbyes to Lisa Lisa, he somehow makes his way to his room, collapsing on his bed. Emotional fatigue drains him of the will to do anything other than taking a nap. He’s lucky to have a break from classes.

As Caesar feels his eyelids drop, he wonders what Joseph is doing.

Is he watching a movie or a TV show? There had been a number of times Caesar had caught Joseph procrastinating on his homework by watching something new on whatever streaming site. He imagines the brunette watching a new superhero movie, engrossed in the story. He can also picture him slouched in his plane seat or drooling against the window, the seat small for his wide shoulders.

Before he lets his consciousness slip, he grapples for his phone, easily finding Joseph’s name.

CAZ [6:47 AM]: call me when you land stronzo

Chapter Text

It’s been months too long. Caesar feels like vibrating out of his skin as he waits in the airport for a certain loud-mouthed idiot. He taps his foot and checks his phone incessantly. Joseph just texted saying he found his luggage and Caesar texts him back, telling him to haul ass. 

These past couple of months, Caesar has learned that Joseph has a chronic problem of replying with stickers. He's also learned how obnoxious Joseph’s choice in sticker reactions could be. 

The first sticker he could let slide. A simple rabbit giving the ‘ok’ sign. The second sticker starts to raise his blood pressure – another rabbit obnoxiously smirking and laughing – most likely Joseph’s way of letting him know that he wasn’t fooling him with his harsh messaging tone. Or maybe it was Joseph just being obnoxious. It’s always hard to tell with him. 

Caesar’s sure that he’ll be able to catch sight of Joseph before Joseph finds him. The Brit is a head taller than the average man and even more so than the average woman. And that's not even accounting for his distinct wild hairstyle. 

Unfortunately, he forgets to account for the fact that Joseph is a cheeky shit. He can only blame himself. He should have known better.

He gets a message from Joseph – another sticker. He fights back the surge of embarrassment and annoyance at the sight of a character holding up a sign that says – 

“I love you.”

A teasing voice and warm breath brush against his ear. Arms snake around his waist and Caesar feels the pressure of a firm chest hitting his back. 

A large part of Caesar wants to linger there, surrounded by Joseph’s comfortable weight after months of settling for only his voice. But the other, reasonable part of his brain tells him that they’re in public and that his idiot boyfriend deserves some punishment for keeping him waiting and pulling a stunt like this. 

Sadly for Joseph, reason wins out.

A sharp elbow to the gut quickly changes Joseph’s teasing voice to a pained groan. Just as Caesar spins around, he watches the bigger man clutch his middle, peering up at him with sad puppy dog eyes. 

“I say I love you, and this is how you repay me?!”

“We’re in public you dumbass! C’mon, hurry up, it’s two AM and I’m fucking tired.”

Caesar roughly grabs the carry-on bags Joseph’s dragging around and motions sharply with his head for Joseph to follow.

From behind him, he can hear Joseph’s footsteps trailing along. There’s no doubt in Caesar’s mind that the man’s lips are pursed in a full-out pout.

“Jeez, you’re in such a bad mood today. I should be worse y’know, I’m the one who had to sit in a cramped plane for eight hours.”

“Well I still have classes!”

Joseph bitches and whines about Caesar’s cold attitude, while Caesar bites back with his own complaints about the amount of luggage Joseph has on him. What does a man who’s only staying for two weeks need so much stuff for? 

After they get into the car though, the less sleep-addled, longing part of Caesar’s brain takes over as Joseph settles into the passenger’s seat. 

Teal eyes go wide as firm hands grab onto the front of Joseph’s hoodie to drag him over and seal his mouth over the other’s. Caesar lets himself indulge, just for a bit. He breathes in Joseph’s presence, humming against him, tracing the man’s mouth with his tongue, trying to coax a response since Joseph seems to be frozen with shock. 

It takes a moment, but Joseph has always been reactionary. He catches up quickly, letting a hand glide across the nape of Caesar’s neck, gently tracing the area with his thumb as his tongue finally starts moving to meet his. Caesar gives a small moan of approval. 

Eventually, Caesar pulls back when the reality of time starts to ease back into his brain. He’s satisfied with his work. Joseph’s lips are rosier than before and his eyes blink open slowly, still a little dazed – though to be fair, that might be the jet lag. 

Still, the younger man manages to regain his senses to grin and quip, “Now that’s a warm welcome I can get behind,” which earns him a smack in the arm. The stupid comments are expected at this point. On a good day, he might even say he’s fond of it, this odd friendly romance they have. 

As Caesar drives down the highway, Joseph knocks out against the window, hunched over. From the corner of his eye, he watches the streetlights periodically illuminate his body. He hates how endeared he is. He tries to tell himself it’s a side effect of not having seen the other man in so long, but he can’t fool himself so easily. 

Luckily, the roads are near empty. Though that’s most likely because it’s so late at night. It doesn’t take long for Caesar to reach his dorm.

It takes a firm hand and a couple of shakes for Joseph to wake up, eyes half-lidded and obviously exhausted. Any little remaining energy he had seems to have evaporated. Caesar’s not in much better of a state quite honestly. It’s a miracle that they manage to wash up and change. 

Caesar watches Joseph stumble in the direction of the couch with disgust and confusion, pulling the other man back before he collapses there. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Joseph shoots his own confused look back – mixed with a healthy bit of annoyance as he points at the furniture. 

“Uhh, sleeping? I thought that was obvious.”

Caesar drags his hand across his face and fights the urge to groan.

“Are you stupid? We’re in a relationship. You’re not sleeping on my couch. We’ve already shared a bed before.”

“I don’t know! I thought you might need your beauty sleep or something! Besides, last time I crashed at your place I slept on the couch!”

Not for the first time, Caesar glances up towards the heavens and prays for strength. 

“Joseph Joestar,” Caesar watches Joseph wince at his full name with no little satisfaction, “come to bed, the bed you  will  be sleeping in as long as you’re here.” 

Before Joseph can respond, Caesar grabs his wrist and drags him to his room, waiting for Joseph to crawl in first before following. 

Despite being in a long-distance relationship, Caesar thinks he’s learned to read Joseph quite well. He isn’t fluent yet, doesn’t really think he ever will be. Honestly, no one on Earth can probably truly understand how Joseph’s mind works. 

Still, when he opens his arms and feels Joseph crawl into his space, he can’t help but feel a flush of pride at reading him. As Joseph nuzzles his nose against his chest and tangles his legs in his, Caesar feels something missing ease and slot into place, wrapping his arms around Joseph just a tad bit tighter.

Fuck, he’d missed him. 

With the sound of Joseph’s breathing slowing, Caesar lets himself drift off, content.

★☆★☆★☆

Consciousness trickles in slowly. Caesar can’t find it in himself to open his eyes right away, but frowns when he doesn’t sense the heat of Joseph as close as before he knocked out. 

Annoyed, he cracks his eyes open to look for him. The heat of irritation fades out when he finds the other man a couple of inches away, curled up, breathing softly, face half-buried in his pillow. The blanket hangs around Joseph’s slim waist. He can’t help the hand that reaches out to pat away at Joseph’s hair, digging in his fingers to rub at the other man’s scalp. 

Reluctantly, he pulls his hand away to roll over and check the time on his phone. Just an hour before class. Good to know his internal clock was functioning like a well-oiled machine. 

Sliding out of bed, he lifts the blanket to cover Joseph’s shoulders before going to the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

Joseph sleeps like the damn dead, though it’s partially to be expected considering the jet lag. The Brit had been smart about it, deciding to make sure he’d land on a day when Caesar has classes to recover and sleep in. Joseph had said he wouldn’t sleep on the plane ride either. Caesar wasn’t sure if Joseph succeeded or not, both of them too tired last night to really talk, but Caesar’s sure that the younger man will be more than eager to chat his ear away later. 

He wants to wait for Joseph to wake up, to have breakfast together, but it’s an impossible wish. Caesar can only write a note for Joseph as he dips his biscotti in his espresso. Leaving a spare key on the table, he quietly makes his way out. 

He can barely concentrate on lessons though. He’s left wondering if Joseph’s woken up yet; whether he’s found the leftover biscotti and carton of tea that he bought – one of the brands Joseph seemed to have constantly around in the psychology lounge. He wants to text him, but there’s a chance the man is still sleeping. It’d almost be worse if he didn’t get an answer. 

Fortunately, lady luck seems to pity him today. Around lunchtime, a message comes in – a picture, with impeccable lighting, showing a mug filled with steaming tea and a biscotti balancing on the lip. 

Jo Joe⭐  [12:51]: thx 4 the tea <3 

Caesar works damn hard to stifle the smile creeping across his face. At least until he gets a second text.

Jo Joe⭐  [12:53]: no looking at ur phone during class

Jo Joe⭐  [12:54]: I kno im distracting but u better pay attn :p

It’s amazing how easily Joseph can make him go from feeling enamored to wanting to strangle him. A truly amazing skill. Caesar can’t help but think that it’s always been like this. Every word, every action from Joseph affects him so much more than from anyone else in his life. He’s managed to crawl under Caesar’s skin and make a home there. The worst part of it all is that he likes having Joseph there. He wants to keep the other man close. 

He stares at the clock on the wall, waiting for classes to end. 

★☆★☆★☆

Walking through the doorway, he’s greeted by the sight of Joseph looking up from his laptop at the sofa, eyes squinting at Caesar as he smiles. 

“Hey, how were classes and research?”

Caesar takes a moment to commit the look to memory. He realizes he’s never really seen it before, an unguarded Joseph, smiling purely without any burdens. Back then, they’d been too busy, too anxious about everything happening around them. Hell, most of the time he’d known Joseph, the man had a mask on that obscured half his face. Even in this life, he’d felt a wall between them as Joseph one-sidedly held the knowledge of a previous life that he hadn’t really wanted Caesar to remember. 

Shaking himself out of it, Caesar doesn’t reply, dropping his bag on the ground before plopping down him, staring up at the ceiling. He pushes down the urge to reach out and push his head into Joseph’s shoulder. He’s not like Joseph, who seems to find physical contact with him as natural as breathing. Exhaustion from the day sinks him deeper into the cushions. Running a hand through his hair, he glances down to see what Joseph’s working on and isn’t surprised to see Joseph scrolling through some comic. 

Vexed, Caesar glares at the carefree man who looks away, sheepish. 

“Seriously? That’s what you’ve been doing all day while I’ve been out?”

“No, you just caught me during a break! You do know what a break is, right Caesar-chan?”

Caesar furrows his eyebrows. “Chan?”

Joseph smirks like he’s in on some inside joke. “Nothing.”

The younger man shuts the cover on his laptop, setting it aside on the coffee table before ungainly falling into Caesar’s lap, legs dangling off the edge of the sofa. It’s not quite the kind of physical contact that Caesar had been looking for but it’s very Jojo. Still, it’s easy to thread his hands through Joseph’s hair from this angle, and there’s something to be said about looking down at the other man for once. 

“Y’never said how your day was.”

Caesar thinks. “Uneventful.”  I wanted to see you, he doesn’t say. “We talked about space quantization and electron spin in class. Had to synthesize some molecules for lab.”

There’s a flash of mirth at watching Joseph’s face scrunch up at the thought of his chemistry work. 

“Eww.”

Caesar pinches Joseph’s scrunched-up nose in between his curled index and middle fingers, shaking it lightly side to side. Hearing the idiot’s nasally complaints is inexplicably satisfying. Regretfully, his conscience doesn’t let him torture him for too long, and he lets go.

“Well, if my day sounds so disgusting, how was yours?”

He feels Joseph relax further in his lap now that his airways are unblocked. 

“Met up with Lisa Lisa after I texted you for a late lunch. We got – damn, what was it called? Lampredotto, I think.”

He can’t imagine Lisa Lisa eating lampredotto. Honestly, the thought of the woman eating anything without a fork and knife feels wrong. But also, tripe. 

“Surprising to hear a man who got so worked up over nero choosing to eat tripe. Did you like it, or did you make a fuss?”

“What do you mean, "made a fuss"?! It was pretty good, but tripe has a pretty weird texture. Kinda too chewy.” 

“What did the two of you talk about?”

“Hmm, just caught up. She was nagging me a lot about keeping up with classes. She also mentioned all the stuff you guys had been doing trying to exorcise everything.”

They soak in the glow of the evening for a moment, just Caesar tangling his fingers in wild brown hair as Joseph looks up at him, eyes filled with wonder. 

“What are you thinking about?” Caesar asks.

A smile tinged with melancholy. It’s a look that he’s seen a lot this round of life. It had made him uncomfortable before, filling him with a feeling of frustration at not understanding the reason for the mist of sorrow that seemed to permeate the air at seemingly random moments. 

It still makes him feel itchy when he sees the look pop up – it had even popped up during some of their video calls. It got to a point where Caesar could swear he could hear it in Joseph’s voice and even in his texts. Context makes it a little better, at least now he can pinpoint why Joseph gives him that look, but it doesn’t make it much less irritating. 

Wanting an outlet, Caesar tugs at Joseph’s left cheek with a glare, ignoring the man’s pathetic whining.

“What the hell’s that for?!”

“You’re not looking at me again. I’m right here you know.”

Joseph blinks. Stares. Then bursts out laughing, turning his face away, pressing a hand against Caesar’s chest. 

“Oh my God! Caesar, are you jealous of yourself?”

Fuck. He doesn’t need a mirror to know that his face is heating up like a furnace. The worst thing is that he can’t deny it. He refuses to reply to Joseph’s taunting, shoving his hand in the younger man’s face and hissing,  “Stop laughing!”  

Eventually, Joseph’s booming laugh dies down to little giggles and snickers, a look on his face that can only be described as adoring. He brings his hand up to cup Caesar’s cheek, thumb brushing against his birthmark. It makes Caesar’s stomach flip. 

“I thought we went over this already,” Joseph says, the corners of his lips tugging up.

“Shut up. Forget I said anything.”

“Oh, no can do Caesarino. Apparently, my boyfriend needs to hear some facts.”

Joseph lets his hand fall, lacing his fingers together over his stomach. The blond misses the heat on his cheek, but keeps eye contact with Joseph, waiting for him to say his part.

“Y’know, if you wanted to hear me say that I love you, you could just ask instead of getting all weird about before.”

He can’t help but bristle, “That’s not–”

Ignoring him, Joseph barrels on. “Besides, there’s nothing to be jealous about. This is the first time for us. It’s not like we had the time or the chance to fool around back then. Don’t get me wrong, being with you after training was fun, but the sexiest thing we did was get tossed into an oil pit – which wasn’t even really that sexy. Anyways, what I’m trying to say here is that… it’s you. It’s always gonna be you. I don’t want anyone else. I just know I want you in my life and that I’ve loved you and love you. I want to be next to you, any way you want me to be.” 

Overwhelmed, Caesar can only press his palm against his mouth. He’s supposed to be the suave one, the one who can sweep women off their feet with just a couple of words. But that isn’t the same. This is open, straightforward, shameless honesty. It’s true, heavy love. He’s heard it before, Joseph’s said it more than once by now, but sometimes, under his playful veneer, he forgets just how much the other man means it. And it takes his breath away, every time. 

Despite all his flirting, when it comes to something this real, it numbs his tongue. He wishes he could be as free as Joseph is, always willing to express his affections over and over so easily. But Joseph deserves an answer. Caesar wants to give him an answer. 

“ Ti amo anch’io, Jojo.”

Joseph’s face brightens. If there were sunflowers around, Caesar swears they would face in his direction. 

★☆★☆★☆

The rest of the night is spent making dinner and watching movies on the couch while Caesar does some work. Joseph gets tired earlier than he usually would, internal clock still a little messed up from staying up during the plane ride and changing time zones. Caesar isn’t much better, he’d been anxious the days before Joseph arrived, figuring out logistics with him and juggling schoolwork. They wash up and climb into bed, Joseph having learned his lesson about sleeping properly the previous night. 

After he turns off the light on his nightstand and before he can completely settle under the comforter, Caesar feels a tug on his shoulder. 

Glancing down, he finds aquamarine eyes peering up at him. 

“...What?” He asks. 

“Hey Caesar, how’s your schedule look tomorrow?” 

He takes a second to run through his day, pleasantly surprised at the lack of time classes will take up. 

“Just two classes and they’re back to back in the morning. Should be done with everything before lunch. Why?”

“Oh that works, I’ll probably be up by then.”

“What do you mean ‘probably’? It’ll be eleven, you lazy idiot. And what do you mean ‘that works’?”

“Tomorrow’s the twelfth right? Let’s go on a pre-birthday date. I wanna go eat gelato and nero. If we can, we should go see Piazza San Marco, Lido, and Rialto Bridge,” Joseph ticks off each attraction on his fingers. 

“ Porco vacca, you’re such a tourist. And is it my pre-birthday date or yours?”

“You haven’t said you don’t want to go yet.”

And that’s the thing, isn’t it? He wants to go do stupid touristy shit and gouge themselves on everything from street food to restaurant meals. 

So he plops down on his spot in bed with a defeated groan and barely manages to wrench out a pained, “I’ll text you when I’m done with class.”

A clean victory of Joseph, who knows it, and smiles wide enough that Caesar can make it out in the dark. He shoves his palm in Joseph’s face to physically try to wipe that smirk off his face, but he can feel thick lips pulled up at the corners pressing against his hand. 

★☆★☆★☆

Caesar still isn’t sure if Joseph actually only just got up near eleven or if he’s just fucking with him. When he had woken up around eight, Joseph had just kept sleeping like a log. It made sneaking out to get to class easy, but it was almost concerning how easily the brunette just kept sleeping like the dead. 

He remembers staring up at the ceiling at night, sleep eluding him as he thinks about training, about fighting the Pillar Men, about his father, about legacy, about Joseph. He remembers hearing footsteps outside his door, louder than the ticking of the clock. 

He remembers hearing it more nights than less.

He shakes himself out of it. This world has dangers as well. Nothing as deadly as the Pillar Men so far – knock on wood. But nothing presses on them, not anymore. The latest danger has been eliminated. They can let the tension roll off their shoulders just a little bit. 

He glances down at his phone, squinting through the glare cast by the sun. 

CAZ [10:52 AM]: finished class, waiting at the coffee shop

Jo Joe⭐ [10:56 AM]: oh the one where I got the drinks the night we went banshee hunting? Be there in 15

He stares down at the ‘11:17’ and taps his foot. Honestly, he’d expected it. Joseph was always late for training too, whether it be three minutes or thirty. He wonders how many it’ll be this – 

“Caesar!”

In the distance, he can see his idiot race up, waving his hand.

He waits for the larger man to skid to a stop in front of him and catch his breath before speaking. 

“You’re late, stronzo .”

Though it was said under his breath, Caesar still managed to hear the muttered, “Oh no, he’s insulting me in Italian again.”

Louder, Joseph just says, “Sorry, I forgot my wallet and had to run back.”

Caesar snorts, not really mad, simply enjoying giving Joseph shit. All things considered, seven minutes out of his estimate isn’t bad at all. Still, he gives an appraising glance at the man. He’s pleasantly surprised to see Joseph wearing a tight-fitting baseball Henley and skinny jeans, aviator glasses glinting from their position on top of Joseph’s head. Caesar has personally gone for an airy light pink button-up and white jeans. It’s interesting to see him without a t-shirt or hoodie, and it’s a lot different than the crop tops he would insist on wearing before. Though he has to admit, he misses the striped scarf. Maybe he’d try to find a new one. 

But there’s absolutely no way he’d ever say that he misses the crop tops. 

Brushing away that insidious thought, he asks, “Did you eat anything for breakfast?”

“Naw dude, I just woke up like,” Joseph checks his watch. Caesar notes that it looks brand-name and suspiciously expensive. “A lil’ less than an hour ago. Was hoping you’d be hungry by now after using your brain and all learnin’ about carbons or some shit.”

“Let’s get something quick and easy now that we can carry while walking around. We can get you nero for dinner.”

“Don’t forget the gelato!”

“No dessert until after you get something of substance in that pit you call a stomach.”

Joseph pouts. Absolutely nothing about a gorilla-like man pouting should be considered adorable. Unfortunately, his brain has somehow rewired itself against his will to consider 97 kilogram, 195 centimeter tall men cute. Or at least, one 97 kilogram, 195 centimeter tall man in particular. 

He’s so fucked. 

Reaching out, he grabs a hold of Joseph’s hand and drags him along to one of the many bacari in Venice. Joseph marvels at the sights, so distracted by the stores, people, and architecture that he barely notices Caesar lacing their fingers together. 

It isn’t until they get to the inn and pick up their food – a panini for Caesar and frittura di pesce for Joseph – that the larger man notices their hands. 

“Caesar.”

The man in question takes a bite out of his sandwich. “Joseph.”

“I want to eat.”

“Then eat.”

“But I can’t.”

“Then let go.”

He’s sure Joseph’s going to make some quip about their hands being tied together and why shouldn’t Caesar let go, but classic Joseph needs to keep him on his toes.

“I don’t want to. So feed me.”

Caesar nearly chokes on bits of focaccia and lettuce. 

Composing himself, he chews slowly and swallows before speaking this time, unwilling to make the same mistake. He’s never embarrassed himself during a date, damn if he’ll start now. 

“I have a panini in one hand and yours in the other, how the hell am I supposed to give you your food? Hell, you should’ve just bought a panini.”

“I wanted to try this though! Lemme eat half of your panini. That way, we’ll finish it faster and then we can split my food.”

An epiphany hits Caesar. “Jojo,” he drawls out. “Is this a plot so you can steal my sandwich?”

How a man could have such a good poker face during life-threatening situations and be utter shit at hiding his emotions out of them is a conundrum Caesar doesn’t have enough brain capacity to fathom. 

Joseph gives a little, hehe before leaning in to steal a bite. A meaner part of Caesar wants to snatch it away, but to be fair, he was the one who started this, so he brings the wrapped panini closer so Joseph doesn’t need to lean over as much. He swears Joseph’s eyes glitter at the taste. 

With the huge bits that Joseph takes, the sandwich is decimated quickly which leaves them to tackle the frittura di pesce piece by piece with a fork. It takes longer than the sandwich, but it lets them savor the fried seafood more. 

In time, they do end up having to part hands to get drinks and make their way to find gelato. Joseph gets pistachio and strawberry while Caesar goes for tiramisu. They tower over the other tourists around Rialto Bridge. It’s hell finding a spot looking over the Grand Canal, but by sheer luck, they manage to settle as they pick at their dessert.

“If I had to bet, I would have thought you would pick chocolate.”

The mildly offended look Joseph shoots him makes him smile, just a bit.

“I feel like I’m being attacked. You make me sound like I’m basic.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No! Besides, I’m surprised you chose tiramisu. Would’ve thought you’d like something – I don’t know, not chocolate-y. Thought you would’ve picked coffee or something.”

“I don’t know; the first time you at nero–”

“I’ll have you know, I’ve expanded my horizons! I’ve been to Egypt, China, Japan–”

Before Joseph can get even more worked up, Caesar jams a spoonful of gelato into his mouth. He watches him chew and swallow spitefully. 

“How is it?”

“...It’s really good.” 

Caesar laughs at the disgruntled look on Joseph’s face and is promptly quieted when a nutty flavor spreads over his tongue. He wants to protest but then catches the soft look on Joseph’s face, just… relaxed and happy. No melancholy, no shadows, just pure contentment.

There’s disappointment when Joseph turns his gaze back to the canal, once again focused on his gelato. He wants to… something. A hand on his hip, thumbing at the skin between Joseph’s shirt and pants, crossed fingers, a kiss – just something. But they’re both not ones for blatant PDA in the middle of a tourist area. 

Part of Caesar wants to go home now, see if Joseph will give him that look again, but he also wants to keep going today. Do everything they never got a chance to before. He remembers every time they’d gone out to run errands for Lisa Lisa and Suzie Q how enviously Joseph had looked at every food and dessert stall, fiddling with his mask. Likely, they came back to Italy after the battle and Joseph finally got his chance – but still, Caesar wants to be the one to guide Joseph. He wants to be the one to show Joseph Italy. 

Once they finish off their dessert, they go to different stalls, Joseph browsing all the souvenir shops that Caesar has to forcibly pull him away from because, “No, Jojo, that’s way too expensive what the hell do you think you are, made of money?” 

Still, once in a while, they find something they’re willing to compromise on, and Caesar considers buying something for his younger siblings as well. Joseph gets a hat out of it that he wears the rest of the day.

They take a bus to  Giardini della Biennale , enjoying the distance away from the hustle and bustle of the city, breathing in the fresh combination of the salty air and forest, sitting down after walking around so much.

Finally, it’s dinner time and with all the walking, Caesar can feel pangs in his stomach, craving something of substance. 

They end up at a fairly casual restaurant. Joseph gets his nero and Caesar orders a tortelli dish with some fish. Caesar picks wines for both of them to savor with their dishes, appalled when Joseph ignorantly says, “It’s just wine, what’s the big deal?”

He’s not sure that he’s convinced Joseph that the wine he picked pairs best with nero, but Joseph doesn’t seem offended and finishes the glass without complaint so he takes it as a win. 

When it comes time to pay, Joseph slaps Caesar’s money out of the way and slides in his card to the waiter before Caesar can even regain his bearings. He glares, but Joseph simply points out that it’s a pre-birthday date so this dinner can be a pre-birthday gift. 

Finally, when the sun starts to set, they find themselves walking along a slightly more secluded area of Venice Lido Beach. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore is calming, and the breeze combs back their hair. The sky is died in pink, orange, and blue. 

He notices Joseph starting to stray behind and turns around, wondering what he caught the other man’s attention this time around, only to find a phone pointed at his face. 

“Isn’t this the second time you’ve played paparazzi with me? Why don’t you just  ask  to take a picture of me?” 

Joseph smiles down fondly and the picture he’s taken but still manages to respond, “Would you let me take a picture of you? Besides, I want to take a picture in your natural, grumpy habitat, not when you’re preening like a peacock-like you do when you’re flirting with girls.”

“You want to remember me when I’m grumpy? Well why didn’t you just say so?”

Caesar launches himself at Joseph, aiming for his sides, laughing in victory as Joseph shrieks and twists and tries to run away. 

“This, this isn’t–” Joseph can barely catch his breath. “This isn’t grumpy!” 

They end up falling into the sand, rolling around, wrestling, flipping each other over, and getting grains stuck on their skin, their hair. 

Eventually, Caesar pins Joseph down, sitting on top of him, watching the other man cackle underneath him. At that moment, Caesar can understand what Joseph means by “natural habitat”. He wants to capture this moment and frame it if he can, but he also can’t help but think he’d rather live it, experience it. 

The grains of sand in their clothes, the breeze, the shore, the light. 

He glances around to see if anyone’s noticed them, but there are only a few people around, and they all seem to be caught up in their own worlds. 

The sun’s gone even further down and the shadows creep upon them, making them the world less visible to them, and them less visible to the world. 

So Caesar takes the opportunity to lean down and gently place his lips over Josephs's, a small indulgence for the patience he’s endured for the day. 

Joseph looks up at him, eyes shining as if he’s seeing something ephemeral.

“Hey, Caesar.”

“What, Jojo?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For coming back. For finding me again.”

Caesar doesn’t answer, leaning down to wipe some sand off Joseph’s cheek absentmindedly before getting up and holding out his hand. 

“C’mon Jojo. Let’s go home.”

Joseph grabs on. This time, he’s the one to lace their fingers together. 

They walk back in the direction of Caesar’s dorm. Maybe fifteen or so minutes pass before Caesar calls out to Joseph.

“Jojo.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

They don’t stop walking, they don’t even make eye contact. But he can hear the sincerity in Joseph’s voice as he says:

“I love you too.”

Side by side, they walk back home.

★☆★☆★☆

There are two things he notices when he regains awareness in the morning. The first is the pleasant ache throughout his body, and a less pleasant throbbing in the area between his shoulder and neck, along with some sharper pains on his back. 

The second thing he notices is something small in the palm of his hand. 

Curiosity overcomes drowsiness, so he forces his eyes open to peer down at the object. 

It’s a key.

It’s a key with a familiar green-and-yellow striped pattern wrist strap and a small star, feather, and sunflower charm. 

He flips around to face the only person who could have placed it in his hands.

Smiling blue-green eyes stare back at him along with a palm held up in greeting.

“ Buon giorno. ”

With a huff, Caesar rolls his eyes but politeness forces him to reply. “Oh, now you talk to me in Italian?  Buon giorno , Jojo. Now, what is this?” He dangles the key by the wrist strap in between their faces.

“Hey Caesar, I know you’re older than me, but I didn’t think you were  that old. Are your eyes going bad? It’s a key.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Besides, if we counted everything, you’re the old fart here. Why do I have an unknown key in my hand, Joseph Joestar?”

“It’s your birthday present.”

Caesar frowns. “I thought yesterday and last night were my presents.”

“Who says you can’t have three?”

“For crying out loud, Joseph–”

“Okay, okay! It’s the key to my house.”

For once, Caesar wishes Joseph could be straightforward in a more understanding way. “In America? In England?”

“In Italy.”

The blond swears he hears the dial-up noise in his brain as he tries to process what Joseph just said.

“What?”

“I’m kinda transferring back to your university?”

“What?”

“Lisa Lisa – I guess I should call her mom again? She was talking about how it would probably make more sense for me to try and live in Italy since Granny Erina is thinking about moving back to England to be closer to Grandpa Jona’s grave. And instead of starting a third uni program in England, it would make more sense to just pick up here where I left off. So after I left I kept talking with her about it and she helped me pick out a place. She picked up the key for me the day I landed. That was one of the reasons I went to go meet her the second day, I wanted to have the spare for today.”

Caesar lets Joseph’s story percolate in his brain for a couple of seconds. When he finally gets the gist of it all, he aggressively jabs his fingers into Joseph’s side and makes him squeal.

“What the fuck! You didn’t think to tell me that you were going to move to Italy during our video calls?! I’m your boyfriend!” For good measure, Caesar keeps jabbing and pinching Joseph’s side.

“Ahh! Caesar, stop stop! I’m sorry! I wanted it to be a surprise!” 

“Fucking insensitive, secretive idiot!”

“If you don’t want it, give it back!”

“Hell no, you’re not getting this back from me, it’s mine now!”

Joseph shuffles toward the wall, defending his side from any further attacks from Caesar. 

Frustration at not being informed of important life events dims as memories of last night take their place. Heat floods his face and crawls up his ears and down his neck. He sees Joseph looking confused for a second but he seems to catch on to Caesar’s thoughts. Joseph’s skin, being a bit darker than his, doesn’t show his embarrassment as easily, but the way he covers his face with his hand is even more of an obvious sign than the flush on Caesar’s. 

“...I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”

He hears a strangled noise from Joseph before he replies, “I’m fine. Sore. I could use Hamon but it’s really not a big deal.”

They lay in silence for a bit until Joseph peeks at him through his fingers, eyes settling on the bite mark near Caesar’s shoulder. He reaches out, running the pads of his fingers over the indents. He can’t help the shiver that runs through him. 

Joseph, thinking it was painful, quickly says, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It felt good at the time.”

“Kinky.”

“Please shut up.”

“Why don’t you heal it? Want me to do it?”

Caesar clamps his hand over the mark and shakes his head. Joseph looks on in confusion. 

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“A little.”

“Then why…?”

The heat that had been dying down on his face comes back with a vengeance. 

“I want to remember.”

He can literally see the moment Joseph registers what Caesar’s said, in which he grabs his pillow and screams into it. He can hear a muffled,  “Stupid fucking Casanovaaaaa!”

When Joseph removes the pillow, his hair is in an even worse state than before and the red on his face is more noticeable than before. 

“You’re acting like we’re not gonna do it again,” Joseph mutters. 

Now it’s Caesar’s turn to want to grab the pillow and plant his face into it, but he refrains, just barely. 

“Oh yeah, what time do we have to meet up with your family?”

“We’re going around dinner time and we’ll probably spend the night there.”

“’Kay. Hey Caesar.”

“Hmm?”

Joseph smiles.

“ Buon compleanno. ”