✓ : 2/8/20
✎ : 1527
✿ : angst w 1 (one) fluff & humor
ϟ : language, REALLY low-effort

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"C'mon, you fatass." Caesar grunts as he half-drags, half-carries a smashed Joseph into his room. "Why are you so— ugh— heavy?!"

"Cos...." Joseph's breath is sickeningly sweet, alcoholic, and Caesar is afraid he might just get drunk on the way the brunet is slurring into his ear. "Cos I got a fat ass or sumn... isn't that what you just said?"

"No, it's not." They arrive at the bed at last, and Caesar throws Joseph down rather unceremoniously, onto the mess of pillows and sheets that absolute slob has left unfolded, again. A muffled thud can be heard, before Joseph yelps and curls in on himself, cradling his left wrist:

"Owww! That hurts, Cae... that really hurts.... Why...?"

"Shut up." Long story short, Joseph got into a heated arm-wrestling battle at the bar, and in his drunken state he allowed his hand to be bent and held down in a position that was definitely not ideal for his wrist. "You probably sprained it or something, idiot."

"I— whaaat? No way. Look, Cae, I can still move it can't I?" Joseph holds up his wrist in confusion, rolling the joint. Caesar slaps his arm down:

"Stop moving it, you'll make it worse. If you can't train, Coach is gonna kill me."

"No, it's okay, Caesar." Joseph suddenly grabs onto his hand, a determined look in his half-lidded eyes. "I'll talk to her. She won't kill you."

"Really?" Caesar didn't want to play along, but Joseph's serious frown cracked something inside him. It's not rare for the brunet to show concern like this — he's always open about things like feelings, sometimes more than what Caesar is comfortable with — but he can't say he doesn't appreciate it. Simply put, he's glad Joseph isn't another one of those people he has to run after trying to seek attention from. God, sometimes it's so hard to push the brunet away, it makes Caesar wonder if it has truly been this easy all along, if it was never his mistake in the first place, but just—

"Yeah, really. You trust me, don't you?" Joseph's mumble pulls him back to the present. It's a hard question. Caesar twists his hand out of Joseph's grasp, ignoring the brunet's little whine of protest:

"Wait here. I'll find the first aid kit and wrap that wrist up for you."

"Thank you, Caesarino~" Joseph calls after him as he exits the room and goes down the hallway. Joseph's house is big, but fortunately more organized than his bedroom (thanks to his maids, that damn rich punk), so Caesar located the first aid kit fairly easily. Shit. Why do I always do everything for him?

"You're back, CaeCae." Joseph is still lying on the bed as instructed, when Caesar walks back in. He looks about ready to pass out, but the bright smile that tugs at his lips when the blond sits down beside him and takes his hand makes Caesar's innards scramble. "Granny Erina used to do this for me all the time."

"Don't compare me to your grandma." Caesar says curtly, prying Joseph's glove off. He fishes out from inside the first aid kit a thick roll of bandage, while Joseph rambles on:

"But you're both blond, and really caring, and I love you."

"Don't say things like that." Caesar grumbles, wrapping the first layer of bandage around Joseph's wrist. The brunet's hand is warm inside his. "I don't like it."

"But why? I'm telling you the truth."

"You're drunk." And if you can make me believe in that now, eventually I won't be able to back out anymore. "Just... shut up."

"Okay...." Joseph mutters; looks like fatigue is finally catching up to him. Caesar winds the bandage tightly around his wrist, before fastening the loose end and placing Joseph's limp hand down by his side. The brunet is already falling asleep, facial features softening, returning to their default.

It's late. He's tired and borderline drunk. It wouldn't be too much of a crime for him to stay the night, would it?

Caesar switches off the lights and climbs into Joseph's bed, next to him. Both of them reek of alcohol, but Joseph's sheets smell nice, like fabric softener or something. His exhales are soft in the warm darkness.

"Joseph."

No answer.

"You love me, don't you?"

The ceiling blurs. Sighing sharply, Caesar blinks the tears out of his eyes. He feels like a fucking idiot, asking that question now, even after all Joseph has done, especially after he's just confirmed it barely two minutes ago. But he can't help it. Can't help falling for Joseph faster every day, can't help fearing that he's in too deep, can't help feeling like once he reaches the bottom all there'd be is the cold hard ground, and the person he thought he could trust all along has disappeared without a trace.

Fuck. Maybe I shouldn't have stayed the night after all.

"Caesar...." A weak whisper drags him back to the bedroom, and Caesar turns to the side to see Joseph frowning. "I think I'm gonna throw up."

"What?!" He sits bolt up on the bed. "JoJo, don't. Hold it in. Let me go get a bucket or something...."

He runs to the bathroom and fetches a bucket from inside the bathtub. Thankfully, when he returns, Joseph is pale but otherwise fine. Caesar squats down by his side of the bed, brushing the brunet's messy hair back for him:

"How you feeling?"

"Like shit. Why did you let me drink so much...?" Joseph buries his face into his pillow. Caesar pulls back, clicking his tongue:

"I told you to stop, but you wouldn't listen. What was I supposed to do, yank the alcohol out of your hands? For all I know that might've gotten me socked in the face."

"Sorry." Joseph's apology is small, muffled. "Thanks for staying the night, babe. At least I still have someone to complain to."

"In your dreams. I'm going to bed." Caesar rolls his eyes, placing the bucket down by the edge of the bed (in case Joseph decides to throw up later) and standing up. But the brunet isn't done tormenting him yet:

"Wait. My head hurts."

"What do you want me to do? I'm not an Advil." Caesar climbs into his side of the bed, but before he can lie down, Joseph has shimmied up to him, wrapping his arms around the blond's waist and putting his head onto his lap. His injured wrist presses stiffly against Caesar's back. "JoJo, what are you doing?"

"Are you sleepy yet?"

"... Not really. Why?"

"Can you play with my hair?" His ripped jeans are probably horribly uncomfortable to lie on, but in his drunken state Caesar doubts Joseph even notices. "My head really fucking hurts."

Just refuse. Just push him away and say you're tired. Apologize tomorrow morning. He'll never get mad at you, anyway.

"... Five minutes." Caesar sighs. "Five minutes, and then you're going to sleep whether your head hurts or not."

"Okay~" Joseph flips around so now he's lying on his back, and his grin as he looks up at the blond makes Caesar's heart throb. "I love you, Caesarino."

"Mmn...." He threads his fingers through Joseph's tousled brown hair, feeling said male sigh into the touch. He doesn't believe it. As much as he wants to, as much as he knows it's the truth, he can't believe it. Why would Joseph love someone like him? Why does Joseph love someone like him, when all he does is shut him out, treat him terribly, play around with his feelings? Caesar doesn't think he's said "I love you" even once. But Joseph uses it like a hunter uses a knife, a fisherman uses a net, every single moment until Caesar lies a captured prey underneath his gaze, and then just that. If he were a hunter or a fisherman for real, Caesar thinks he would've lost his job a long time ago — for his prey is a decoy. His prey is a predator that hunts him back, a trickster and a scum that uses him to fill the gaping hole in his heart, every time, the same bottomless pit he's been trying to cover up for the last ten years with women, with violence, with empty talk about honor and revenge. It was only a mere coincidence, that an angel like Joseph has stumbled into his life. It will only be a matter of time, before he once again finds himself in the dust.

Plip! A fat teardrop splatters onto Joseph's cheek, sliding down to his jawline. Shit, shit, shit. He'll wake up. I'm gonna wake him up. But the only thing the brunet does is shift his head slightly, before his breathing returns to its normal rhythm again. It's barely been three minutes, and already he's fast asleep.

"I'm sorry, JoJo." Caesar distantly hears himself whisper, and somehow he has slipped out from underneath Joseph, racing toward the door. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He runs out onto the streets. Phantom locks of Joseph's hair bind his hands like ropes, all the way until he reaches home.

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holy shit this is the EPITOME of "low-effort"......... it's so bad!! so b a d hkdhsjsbsnshha i'm,, since when did i have enough confidence to publish a word vomit like this,,,,?,?? why is nobody stopping me??????,

anyway i got caejose brainrot how bout dah

this goes out to my abandonment/trust/daddy issues gang ✌️ y'all are doing beautifully & deserve all the love you are/will be receiving, so believe in it, bitch 🥺🤲💜💛