[Before he can stop the thought, hope manages to make it into Joseph's eyes. He knows that's wrong. He knows he shouldn't put so much weight into Caesar saying something like that. He shouldn't take it as a sign that maybe there's a chance Caesar feels the same way. He shouldn't see it as a sign that he can say it right now and it will be perfectly okay. He can't do any of that because it's not fair and it's just not right, and he doesn't know. Joseph ducks his head, letting his gaze drop down to the floor.]
[But he'll never know if he never says anything.]
Caesar—...
[The dozen or so different ways he's tried to come up with how to say it immediately start battling it out in his head the second he says Caesar's name. Each of them have sounded good at some point or another. He spent so many night staring up at the ceiling or over at the wall trying to plan exactly how he was going to say it. He'd settle on one and finally be able to get some sleep, but by morning? It wouldn't sound right anymore and he'd be back to debating. Now none of them sound right. They sound like they're setting limits and conditions, or they're too long-winded, or they sound too childish.]
[Joseph doesn't feel afraid for himself, not in the least. But his stomach feels like it's tied itself into knots because he's worried about how this is going to affect Caesar. Joseph licks his lips and draws a short, sharp breath in and out. He tries again, lifting his head back up and putting his gaze back on Caesar.]
Caesar.
[He starts to open his mouth to say something, but comes up short. Somehow... It doesn't take away all of the anxiety. There's too much, he thinks, for anything or anyone to do that. But being able to look at Caesar helps because Caesar's the only thing that Joseph can even see right now. They're not even standing all that close to each other right now, but he's acutely aware of everything to do with Caesar from the way he's standing a little straighter rather than relaxing against the counter to the look on his face to how green his eyes are. Joseph's mouth starts to close and he looks away, but then he draws another breath and looks at Caesar again, and then slowly he starts to speak again, smoother this time.]
I don't know how else to say this. So I'm just going to say it.
[Maybe he shouldn't step closer, but he does. Because being close to Caesar means safety for the both of them and maybe it won't make it easier to say, but it will make it easier to hear. It has to.]
no subject
[Before he can stop the thought, hope manages to make it into Joseph's eyes. He knows that's wrong. He knows he shouldn't put so much weight into Caesar saying something like that. He shouldn't take it as a sign that maybe there's a chance Caesar feels the same way. He shouldn't see it as a sign that he can say it right now and it will be perfectly okay. He can't do any of that because it's not fair and it's just not right, and he doesn't know. Joseph ducks his head, letting his gaze drop down to the floor.]
[But he'll never know if he never says anything.]
Caesar—...
[The dozen or so different ways he's tried to come up with how to say it immediately start battling it out in his head the second he says Caesar's name. Each of them have sounded good at some point or another. He spent so many night staring up at the ceiling or over at the wall trying to plan exactly how he was going to say it. He'd settle on one and finally be able to get some sleep, but by morning? It wouldn't sound right anymore and he'd be back to debating. Now none of them sound right. They sound like they're setting limits and conditions, or they're too long-winded, or they sound too childish.]
[Joseph doesn't feel afraid for himself, not in the least. But his stomach feels like it's tied itself into knots because he's worried about how this is going to affect Caesar. Joseph licks his lips and draws a short, sharp breath in and out. He tries again, lifting his head back up and putting his gaze back on Caesar.]
Caesar.
[He starts to open his mouth to say something, but comes up short. Somehow... It doesn't take away all of the anxiety. There's too much, he thinks, for anything or anyone to do that. But being able to look at Caesar helps because Caesar's the only thing that Joseph can even see right now. They're not even standing all that close to each other right now, but he's acutely aware of everything to do with Caesar from the way he's standing a little straighter rather than relaxing against the counter to the look on his face to how green his eyes are. Joseph's mouth starts to close and he looks away, but then he draws another breath and looks at Caesar again, and then slowly he starts to speak again, smoother this time.]
I don't know how else to say this. So I'm just going to say it.
[Maybe he shouldn't step closer, but he does. Because being close to Caesar means safety for the both of them and maybe it won't make it easier to say, but it will make it easier to hear. It has to.]
Caesar, I love you.