Joseph awakens on Air Supplena Island after two days of being damn near comatose on the lumpy, ill-comforting beds in the infirmary, Suzi fluttering back and forth between him and the other patient.
He's only just awoken, but Joseph has never been one to sit in one place for particularly long. Already stir-crazy, he disconnects himself from the heart-lung machine, a recent invention supplied by the Speedwagon foundation, and grabs the IV pole with his good hand, guiding it out of the room and down the hall, into the windowed hallway.
The sunlight of the room is such a flashbang to his senses, especially when the infirmary is so dimly lit, but when his eyes finally adjust and he finally takes in the view of the room unimpeded and he finds himself stunned and immobilized by the sight before him.
By the third window from the door, sits an abandoned wheelchair, left haphazardly behind its previous occupant, as a shirtless man with short, curly blonde hair, body bandaged more than it is visible, with his left hand on the ledge and a cigarette in his right.
"*Caesar.*"
He doesn't realize he's said it, breathing the name so quietly it damn near got lost on the whipping wind, but the blonde turns around at the sound of his name, hardened gaze lightening at the sight of his friend.
"Joseph."
Joseph doesn't believe what he's seeing, *can't* believe what he's seeing. Caesar was *dead*, crushed by that damned cross-shaped rock after he ran in alone, *stupid*, so stupid, and sacrificed himself for Joseph.
But here he was. Shining in the setting sunlight like a damn angel.
"Are you just going to stand there all day?"
Joseph finds himself scrambling, unsure of himself. He can't afford to get his hopes up, he *can't*. He's lost too much.
But... this is Caesar. He finds himself drawn to him, almost trance-like, plopping down beside him in the ledge of the window.
“Caesar…” he rolls the name over his tongue, relishing the bittersweet taste of it, gracing him again with its presence.
A knot forms in his throat.
Silence.
"It's over,” Caesar finally speaks.
It's not a question. They both know Joseph wouldn't be here if it wasn't. His time had since run out, and Wamuu’s ring, Caesar’s parting gift, now drained of antidote, burned a hole in his pocket.
At least Suzi had the mind not to remove it while I slept.
“It’s over,” Joseph parrotted.
“Good fucking riddance.” Caesar takes a drag from his cigarette.
“I heard about your hand.”
“Yeah… none too happy about that, to be honest.”
“Mmn,” is the only reply he gets.
“I saw your wheelchair,” Joseph answers back.
Caesar raises an eyebrow, before huffing a laugh. Then another, succumbing to a hysteria as he almost doubles over, his eyes rimmed with red.
He takes a long suck from his cigarette.
“Yeah. They said I won’t be able to walk again. Won’t be able to feel anything below the waist. At first I told them that’s bullshit. Hamon can fix it. And… maybe it can fix some of it. But now…”
But now. If that wasn’t the most apt summary of the aftermath of… all of it.
“I know that must be unbearable for you, knowing how much you love having a new bird riding your dick every week.”
“Vaffanculo, cagacazzo,” he sighs, shoving Joseph playfully as he does.
“Oi, that’s not fair, at least let me in on what insults you’re hurling at me, you ass!”
“Mi hai rotto i coglioni, Guiseppe.”
“That’s Joseph to you! Don’t ‘Guiseppe’ me, you Italian bastard!”
“Guiseppe, Guiseppe, Guiseppe, Guiseppe, Guiseppe,” he taunts with a childish grin.
“I’ll pull us both off this damned ledge right now!”
They both erupt into peals of much needed laughter, knocking shoulders as they shake.
As their laughter slowly dissipates, dissolving into a comfortable silence, Joseph takes a long look at Caesar, hair fluttering in the sea breeze, each strand a string of molten gold reflecting the last of the sun's rays. His eyes, accentuated by his long lashes, green as the turbulent waves below them, as his long, lanky legs dangle from the edge of the balcony, cigarette held loosely between his long fingers.
"Marry me."
It just... slips out. As though the words had wanted to be said, as though they were meant to be.
Caesar's eyes widen as they meet Joseph's, cheeks as rosy as the triangular marks lining his cheekbones, and Joseph hurriedly looks away. He won't look him in the eye after that. Can't. He doesn't even know why he said that.
His mind hurries to form an apology, attempting to wrap his unwilling mouth around the words when he hears the response.
"Okay."
"Huh?" is the only sound he can muster as his mind halts in its tracks, unable to process the answer given.
Caesar gazes into his eyes, smile still crooked from laughter, setting the hand not nursing his cigarette gently, oh so gently on top of Joseph's good hand.
"Okay, I'll marry you."
And he realizes it doesn't matter if he's hallucinating, or if Caesar's a ghost, or an angel, or a dream, or whatever, because suddenly all the things he's lost to get here don't seem quite so insurmountable anymore.
Not as long as he's here.
Rough translations:
"Vaffanculo, cagacazzo" -> "Fuck off, you annoying asshole."
"Mi hai rotto i coglioni, Guiseppe." -> "You are so fucking annoying, Joseph.", lit. "You bust my balls, Joseph."