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Joseph lay upside down on his bed, sprawled out on the unkempt sheets with his hands resting behind his head. He was bouncing his leg, propped up on his other knee, causing the springs of his bed to creak only slightly. The sound coupled with the noise of turning book pages was comforting.
"Hey, Caesar?"
Caesar glanced up from his book, an evening breeze filtering into their shared room from the window, the thin linen drapes dancing in the glow of sunset. Joseph internally remarked how handsome the other looked when their eyes met; the way the warm evening light touched his skin, moved over the sharp line of his jaw, into the dip of his collarbone and over his broad shoulders. The setting sun did this man justice, and it only made him look more beautiful, painted with the soft pinks and deep oranges of soon-approaching dusk.
"Will you still love me-" Joseph swallowed the lump in his throat before he continued. "Y'know... when I get old? I won't be beautiful forever." He laughed sheepishly, ruffling the back of his dark brown hair. He hoped Caesar caught the forced humour in his words and would laugh with him. He didn't.
"Joseph-... Why would you ask that? I tried to make it very clear that-" He was promptly cut off by the sound of a pillow unceremoniously thumping over the other man's face.
"I was kidding! Can't you take a joke? God, Caesar, you're such a hard ass..." Joseph's muffled voice sounded childish. Caesar set his book gingerly on the floor and got up, lifting his arms above his head, audibly sighing as his taut muscles became relaxed with a few cracks of his back.
"Joseph? Joseph." He began, sitting down as the mattress springs squeaked loudly and dipped with the added weight.
"...Oi, Jojo."
Striking green eyes met deep blue ones, and Caesar couldn't help but smile at the other's immature pout. Sometimes he forgot that Joseph was only eighteen. This was one of the times he was reminded.
"Amore mio... You know I'm going to love you no matter what. You’ll age just fine." He ghosted his callused hands over Joseph's hair before tousling it playfully. "You can have all the wrinkles in the world and I'll still call you handsome. You could get fat, for all I care."
"You know I wouldn't get fat, Caesar. It's not like I eat as much as you." Joseph clicked his tongue and gave a wink.
"Being indulgent over quality cuisine is nothing to be ashamed of, Joseph. If you were blessed with a fine Italian palate, you would-" He was cut off again by the sound of the other shifting and rolling over, strong hands gripping the back of his neck, and lips being pressed to his jawline.
"Oh, shut up."
~*~
Joseph let his cards fall on the table with a dejected huff.
“I fold.” Joseph tipped his hat and tossed a few poker chips onto the table as he leaned back on his chair, straightening his legs.
“Really, Mr. Joestar? This hand isn’t all that terrible…” The voice came from Kakyoin Noriaki, a high school student who had joined his grandson’s grandiose adventure to Egypt. It has certainly been a dramatic couple of weeks. Sitting beside him was Joseph’s own grandson, Jotaro. To his immediate right was Polnareff, who looked equally confused over the hand.
“The old man folds, Kakyoin. He’s losing it.” Jotaro piped up, keeping a stone cold expression over his own hand, cigarette smoke billowing and curling around the brim of his hat, dissipating into the already stuffy air. He glanced at the other boy, raising an eyebrow, trying to signal him to drop it. Clearly Kakyoin didn’t get it.
“How old are you anyways, Mr. Joestar?” Kakyoin placed his card-holding hand down on the table with a rather frustrated sigh from both Jotaro and Polnareff, the latter flicking a lighter to produce a flame, seemingly out of boredom. For now, their game was on hiatus.
“67.” Joseph replied, plucking the lighter from Polnareff’s hand to light a cigarette for himself.
Kakyoin rested his chin on his other hand, cocking his head in surprise. “You don’t look a day over 50.”
“That’s how we Joestars age, Kakyoin! Just you wait, Jotaro will look just like me when he’s old.” Joseph let out a gruff laugh, louder than anticipated. This caused Polnareff to start chuckling as well, and soon the entire table erupted into laughter.
Well, almost.
“I’m not ever going to look like you, gramps. You’ve got wrinkles.” Jotaro huffed and took another long drag from his cigarette, muttering under his breath and he leaned back in his own chair, mirroring his grandfather’s pose.
“Some people like wrinkles! They make you look handsome.” Joseph winked jokingly, causing another bout of uproarious laughter from the table.
“Who the hell says that? Let’s get back to our game…” Jotaro picked up his cards and pushed casually on Kakyoin’s shoulder with his own, coaxing him to also pick up his cards and play.
Joseph continued to smile inwardly as he flicked ashes from his cigarette into the ashtray. His chest felt a little heavier at that moment; One could dwell on the ‘could have’s and ‘should have’s, but in the end he was here now. Remembering the better memories made it hurt significantly less, and time had turned the sadness into fondness. Although he didn’t get to say all of what he wanted to say, this was enough.
He was pulled back to reality by Kakyoin again.
“Jotaro, you might look handsome with a few wrinkles…” Kakyoin smirked, stacking his poker chips as he studied his cards again.
“Oh, shut up.”