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Fifty years passed, but Joseph still keeps dreaming of that snowy, bitter day. The sensation of blood in his mouth and pain in his cheek seemed to hurt more this time, but he didn’t mind it. He would be willing to trade more pain for a life that was cut far too short—the life he lost in the windy, crumbling building, empty and devoid of life, save for the blood trails of an immortal vampire eater.
It was dark today. His pupils dilated as wide as they could, and the strain to make out something, anything, made his vision feel like it was beginning to sear. There was something rough wrapped around his wrists, suspending them above his head.
"Old man!" Jotaro's voice sounded from the distance. "Old man! Wake up!." Joseph craned his head, turning around, but he couldn't tell where the voice was coming from. "It's not real!"
"Jotaro?" Joseph called, struggling to run toward where the voice seemed to be coming from, but finding that his arms were tied together and he was rendered immobile. It must be a stand, he thought, odd things like this don't happen out of nowhere. But what was the stand's power, and where is the user?
The lights clicked on, and he cringed, squinting through the brightness. A familiar blond was tied the same way Joseph was, on the other side of the room, and Jotaro's shouting voice still echoed in the background. But the sound seemed to fade out. Shock rippled through his expression as his eyes finally focused on the figure across the room. Even though darkness was cast over the face, the feathers, the headband, the green shirt---he recognized them all too well.
"Caesar!" he shouted. Startled by the noise, a crow fluttered across the room, and everything was dark again.
He opened his eyes to see a smooth, defined face barely inches away from his own, adorned with blond locks and two moon-shaped birthmarks under each eye. Caesar's eyelashes stirred as he dreamed---and it seemed like it was about something unsettling. This bed was one that he knew; it was a little too stiff for his liking--they had gone to the nearest hotel, which wasn't necessarily the best. Even though Joseph had many nights like this during the months of his training, this one seemed awfully familiar.
For instance, Caesar's hand was gripping onto his waist the same way it did a few nights before he died, and the faint, sweet scent of the shampoo they tried the previous night lingered in the air. Joseph felt the same tightness around his heart, and he still wasn't sure if it was especially strong today because the ring was constricting or because his heart was beating too fast at the sight of his boyfriend.
His hand lifted to feel his own face. The skin was smooth, young, and he had no beard. He was eighteen again. What was going on? Did the world give him another chance?
"Jojo." The blond had always been a deep sleeper. Joseph guessed it was because of the clamor his many siblings made during the nights that Caesar desperately needed rest, and Caesar had eventually adjusted so that he could sleep through it.
But today, Caesar woke when Joseph stirred only a little. "Jojo," the older man repeated, pulling Joseph's head into his chest. He must have sensed the Joestar's apprehension.
Joseph embraced him in return, pressing as much of his body as he could against Caesar's wide frame, reveling in the heat that he emanated. He was real---oh so real. Too real to be true. Joseph could hear Caesar's steady heartbeat, and feel his chest move with every breath.
"You okay?" asked Caesar.
Joseph laughed, nuzzling his face into Caesar's chest. "Yeah," he breathed. He squeezed the blond. "My little Caesar is so cute and warm and fluffy."
"Fluffy?" Caesar asked, aggressively ruffling Joseph's hair. "Who's fluffy now?"
"Caesar, you ass," Joseph growled, grabbing the blond's head and doing the same.
"Hey now," Caesar laughed. "You little brat, I'll get you."
They rolled over in the bed, fingers in each other's hair, the strands on their head sticking up in whichever direction, ruffling to their heart's content. Caesar stopped them when he was on top, with Joseph between his arms, and he smiled, his golden bangs curtaining his face. Oh right, Joseph thought with a smile. He remembered this part.
"Jojo, close your eyes and say 'aah,'" Caesar told the eighteen-year-old.
Joseph chuckled and obeyed the ridiculous command, already knowing that Caesar would lean down and kiss him, holding his head in place--passionately, deeply, comfortingly. Whenever they were together, the world was theirs. As long as he had the Zeppeli by his side, Joseph thought he could do anything---he'll beat the Pillar Men, save the world, win against everyone.
And then Caesar started crumbling. Lips cold, green eyes blank, the electricity in his gaze sparking and leaking out of his body. His skin turned gray, and Joseph whispered, "No," as he clung onto Caesar tightly, hoping that he could somehow squeeze the cold out of the blond. He glanced around the room, looking for something that could help solve the problem, whatever it may be. He found nothing. Everything was collapsing, save for a black crow perched on top of the bedside lamp.
He only could tremble as the blond turned into gray dust in his embrace, starting from his fingers and toes, making its way to his heart, cold like stone. "C-C-Caesar," he stuttered, his voice weak and faltering. "No, don't go. Don't leave." He clenched his teeth, holding Caesar even closer. "You can't you can't you can't youcan'tyoucantyoucant."
The crow flapped, lifting off into the air, and the bed tilted. Joseph slid, still holding onto the lifeless, desecrating body, until he fell into a hole on the ground and landed onto his knees in front of a cross shaped rock. Lisa Lisa was beside him, sobbing into her glove as blood seeped out from under the rock.
"You did this," the crow cawed.
Joseph covered his ears, tears streaming down his face.
"You could have stopped him," the crow said. Its voice was inside his head now. "You shouldn't have insulted his family. You could've come earlier. He loved you. You disappointed him."
"Shut up shut up shut up," Joseph said, over and over again. "I didn't do this. It wasn't me." He couldn't find any strength in his hands to cup his ears anymore. They violently trembled and eventually fell to his sides, limp. "It wasn't me," he whispered, starting to doubt himself.
"Of course you did this," the crow said. "You're the cause of everything. You made him come here at this time, and you didn't save him. Everything boils down to you."
"Old man!" a voice shouted. "Old man!" A tear in space appeared and Jotaro and Abdul ran in.
"YOUR FAULT YOUR FAULT YOUR FAULT YOUR FAULT!" the crow shrieked at the top of its lungs as it fluttered around in the air, trying to get as far as possible from the two intruders.
"The Three of Swords," Abdul said, eyeing the crow. "Magician's Red!"
The bird-like stand incinerated the crow, fueling an intense fire until the crow fell to the ground, charred and featherless. The space around them began to fall apart, and Joseph soon felt a beard around his face again. Jotaro grabbed his arm and pulled him through the tear in space.
Joseph was back in his hotel room, breathless, his legs weak, his nails digging into the carpet.
"Are you okay?" Kakyoin asked.
"Kakyoin, I..." Joseph lowered his head, unable to respond.
"He doesn't seem to have any injuries," Abdul reported after looking him over.
"The Three of Swords, was it?" Polnareff asked.
"The card represents hardship, heartbreak, or the severing of an important connection. The stand isn't powerful in terms of strength but..." Abdul paused, and Jotaro quietly raised an eyebrow, anticipating his continuation. "It makes people relive their worst memory."
"Worst memory huh?" Jotaro said.
Joseph unclenched his fist. As he feared, a small pile of dust was still in his hand. He avoided eye contact with the crew and fell silent. Jotaro had never seen the old man like this.
"It might be best to give him time," Kakyoin said, standing up. "Let's go. Polnareff, don't bother him."
"I wasn't even doing anything!" Polnareff exclaimed as he followed the redhead out the door. Abdul left soon afterwards, but Jotaro remained.
There was a long silence between the two. All that could be heard was the children running in the hallway a floor below, the air conditioner vibrating, and Joseph's breathing. "It wasn't your fault, Grandpa," Jotaro said, finally breaking the void of noise.
Joseph sighed and looked at the floor, a small smile appearing on his face. "Thanks, Jotaro," he said. "Observant as always, aren't you?" He held out his fist. "You're right. Who would even believe this dust is Caesar?"
"Caesar?"
"He used to be my best friend, and uh, maybe a little more. But that's another story!" Joseph tilted his hand, and the dust sprinkled off, blending into the carpet. "I wonder what Caesar would have said if he saw that happen," he said. "He would've been angry for sure."
Joseph put his hands on his hips, cocked his chin up, and said in the smoothest, angriest bark he could muster, "What are you doing, Jojo? How dare you defile my name like that? Your fault?! Tch, I'm not that useless that something you did would kill me! You really are an idiot!" He softened his posture and laughed. "He would have said something like that."
A soft smile fell on the teenager's lips. "You're okay now, then?" Jotaro asked.
Joseph nodded. "Of course," he laughed. "Go to bed, Jotaro. You can't be worrying about your old man here. You've got your own things. Shoo shoo, to sleep you go."
"If you say so," Jotaro said, walking out the door. "Good night then..." he grabbed the doorknob, "grandpa. Just, you know, call one of us if you need anything."
"Okay!" Joseph said with a smile.
The door shut.
Joseph waited a little bit more before pulling out a camera and summoning Hermit Purple. He thought of Caesar and brought down his fist, smashing the device. With a whir, a picture came out, but as usual, it was pitch black. Joseph gave a sad smile, tucking it in his suitcase, along with other failed photos. He flipped off the lights and pulled the covers over himself.
It took Joseph two hours to fall asleep.