[Hearing Caesar say that—If I say I love you.—is enough to cause Joseph's heart to skip a beat, to feel a flutter in his stomach that doesn't feel like anxiety trying to make him throw up on the spot. It's something that makes him have to struggle against getting too far ahead of himself because if is not really the same thing as saying it. Is it? He's really not sure, but he doesn't want to put pressure even now because Joseph's sure that if he does, Caesar will shut down on some level. He'd rather not have an answer right now than have Caesar shut him out.]

If you say it then. . . Then you say it and we figure it out together from there.

[Because nothing needs to happen immediately. Maybe they'll need time for things to settle, to let it sink in that they love each other and that it's okay that they do. Maybe they'll need time to get used to the idea of being more than just friends. Those things seem just as likely to Joseph right now as the both of them jumping headlong into something they don't know quite how to define. Or maybe they do. But the specifics of what they do from that point forward doesn't matter nearly as much as that they do it together.]

But we'll do that, too, even if you don't say it or feel that way. You're always going to be my best friend, Caesar. Nothing can ever change that, remember?