Just Say It

Joseph and Caesar had been training at opposite ends of the island for the day but they would be eating dinner together as per usual. Caesar almost dreaded the very thought of it because Joseph had been so extremely awkward as of late. Had he done something to make things weird? Caesar couldn't think of anything, but then again, it was Joseph. They'd known each other for a short time now, and while Caesar had grown to respect him immensely, he still couldn't tell what he was thinking for the life of him.

Caesar sighed deeply as he walked into their room with his plate of food. He'd promised Suzie Q a favor in exchange for the ability to hide away in his room while everyone else ate.

Unbeknownst to Caesar, Joseph had decided to skip dinner in the interest of calming down. All day he had followed Caesar around, trying to ask him out; he hadn't even neared success. He needed time to regroup, and think about what he really wanted to say.

He was just settling down with one of his comics, trying to remember how Superman first asked out Lois Lane, when Caesar walked in. He reflexively chucked his comic at him, letting out a surprised yell when he realized what he had done--he had thrown one of his favorite issues.

Caesar liked to think that his reflexes where in tip-top shape, but he realized they weren't the second that he dropped his pasta to catch the comic, which he failed to catch in the first place and instead dropped his plate of food onto the comic.

Caesar groaned loudly as he bent over to pick up the comic, which was covered in oil and herbs at this point.

"...Jojo," he began, feeling a headache coming on. "Why did you throw this garbage at me?"

Joseph let out a strained, almost inaudible noise as he stared at his stained comic. "It's ruined..." he groaned in an unearthly voice, his knuckles turning white as he clenched his fists in horror. "You surprised me, you fucking asshole! Who the fuck just walks in without knocking?!"

"You're not even supposed to be here, you're supposed to be at dinner!" Caesar shouted back. He threw the comic back at Joseph, bending down to pick up the plate. It wasn't broken, and Caesar thanked God for that because Suzie Q would have killed him.

Joseph caught the oily comic, sticking out his tongue in disgust. "This was going to be worth something someday--now its value is gone, you fucker!" He gingerly set it on the night stand, giving it a look of pity.

"Why is it any of your business if I'm here, anyway? I wasn't hungry. Since when do you eat in here?"

Caesar scoffed at the very notion that Joseph wasn't hungry, but he didn't bother commenting.

"I was going to eat in here because I wanted some privacy, that's all," he fibbed. He didn't really think Joseph needed to know that he was avoiding him. At least the comic fiasco had distracted him from pestering him for the hundredth time that day.

"Oh," he said, glancing away from Caesar. "Well, I mean, since we both want this room, I guess we'll just have to share, huh?"

Oh, great. This was absolutely the last thing Caesar wanted in the world. He was sure Joseph was going to get all weird and awkward again any moment and there'd be no way to avoid it if he didn't dodge him soon.

"Uh, actually, I'm going to go shower, so..." Caesar took a step towards the door.

"Well, uh, if you need someone to wash your back, you know who to call!" he said, flashing him a cheesy wink. He regretted it almost immediately; that comment had been far too gay. And what was the wink about? Had he ever winked at his platonic friends before? He couldn't remember, and his heartbeat became the loudest thing he could hear as he panicked.

Caesar gave Joseph a look that was somewhere between confusion and pity. Clearly there was something weird going on with him, Caesar just wasn't sure what it was. It felt like Joseph was attempting to hit on him, but since he found the entire idea of that possibility ridiculous, he forced it from his mind.

"...I think I can handle it on my own," he replied simply.

He forced a smile. "Haha, yeah! Yeah, you do that." He returned his gaze to his pathetic, herb and oil-soaked comic book, which looked very similar to how he felt.

Caesar mentally kicked himself for not bolting out the door but he couldn't bring himself to this time. It was probably better to just corner Joseph and get him to spit it out than it was to come back to an awkward room.

"...Jojo, is there something you need to say?" he asked reluctantly.

"Uh. What makes you say that?" he asked, plastering the smile back on.

Caesar took a step towards the bed. No, he was going to get it out of Joseph now.

"Tell me or I'll force you to tell me," he warned him.

Joseph burst out into laughter, releasing all of his pent-up nervousness. When he was finally able to stop, he shot Caesar an unimpressed look.

"Yeah, sure. What're you gonna do--torture me with suds?"

Caesar huffed. Joseph was such an ass.

"You know very well I could kick your ass, Jojo," he insisted angrily.

"I'd like to see you try--I'm in the best shape of my life!" He flexed to illustrate his point. "You couldn't make me tell you shit!" Joseph had quite forgotten his intention to inform Caesar of his feelings in the first place. What mattered right now was just how impossible it'd be for Caesar to beat his ass.

"Then come over here and prove it," Caesar replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't have to prove anything--you're the one who wants something from me, anyway. How stupid do you think I am, Caesar?" He laughed and reached for his comic book, dropping it in disgust when he remembered how oily and gross it was.

Caesar scoffed.

"Me want something from you? I just want you to tell me what the hell is wrong with you lately!" he shouted.

He pouted. "Nothing--I've just been trying to talk to you is all."

"Perfect, then go ahead and start talking," Caesar told him.

His face reddened. "It's not that easy, okay? I don't want to sound like a tool when I say it..."

Caesar rolled his eyes.

"No need to worry, Jojo, you'll sound like a tool no matter how you say it," he assured him as he moved over to the bed. "Scoot over, I'm not leaving till you tell me."