Chapter Text
Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it's noon, that means
we’re inconsolable.
Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we’ll never get used to it.
-Scheherazade, Richard Siken.
He was awakened by sunlight and smell of sausages.
Sticking his arms out beside him, the unexpected coldness of wrinkled bedsheets sent a message through his fingers to his half-slept brain; despite their everyday routine, his husband had woken up much earlier than him.
Perhaps last night …activities… tired him out.
With a sigh, he kept his eyes closed and rolled over, crumpling their already ruined bedsheet between longing fingers.
He had a dream of lambs peacefully grazing in green pastures, his father’s herd, who had enough love for his animals but not for his children.
The sweet voice of Sandman was lulling him back to the land of dreams, never ready to let go. Nicolo knew he did not belong in that place, with his feet on the ground and his mind believing in what is and what isn’t. However, he stood still, willing to defend the borders of dremland against the enemy, with hopes of getting back into the realm.
Reality was a great warrior, but so was he.
Meaningless words dancing behind his closed-eyelids slowly turned into sentences, changing the voice of Morpheus into a familiar tune, some old cradle song Yusuf used to whisper decades ago. The melody had been coming out of his chest right before killing someone, which Nicolo never understood if it was to ease the victim’s soul into a forever sleep, or their own.
The almost midday sun was bothersome but the disappointment of losing some slow morning sex he’d been craving for days, and the fact that he should wait for it yet another 24 hours, was keeping him in place. Until the sun was burning him from inside, the lamb grilling on flames he himself built, igniting the grass and his old man’s stoneheart.
Sweet dreams, form a shade
O'er my lovely infant's head!
Borders of dreamland were crossed. Colonized by actuality, all over again, both sides trapped in an endless loop of combat with no real winner.
He let the light through his long eyelashes, slowly opening his eyes.
Defeat.
What he had hoped to be his husband, was a canvas hanging on the wall, made by him.
The painted scene started moving in his mind like an old filmstrip, a cherished memory carved in the back of his skull, frame by frame, unharmed like day one.
A four and a half billion year old star giving their love 73,050 and 1 days to blossom, a warm embrace of light and life by burning in its core. Driving herself a day closer to death to give her child another to live, an offering only a mother would give out of herself.
“Sun, the mother of earth”, Yusuf used to call.
It felt like a million birds were singing a welcoming song to her all at once. The sea shimmered in the glare of sunlight, forming a road leading to Helios, to heaven.
What an unnecessary call, he thought to himself.
He’d swim to the end of the world for Yusuf, sure, but the epitome of paradise was already in strong arms of his human, sitting next to him. Instead, he just welcomed Yusuf’s fingers between his.
The sun was up, in all her glory, and the arab’s not-so-perfect curls reflected the light on their turn of events. His hair got so frizzy in this weather but somehow the curls stuck together at their ends, as if the limbs of two lovers refusing to let go of each other even after going through hell and back.
“Under her light, I come to you like a moth flying to a pyre, tesoro, and in her absence I lose my way in that ocean of yours.” Joe’s hand cupped his face, rough thumb caressing under Nicky’s eye, an indication of what he was describing in his own sappy way. “The second I decide to drown in them, she rises to remind me each day, this treasure glistens brighter than yesterday. It's worth more than just my simple death. You’re my purpose, the reason for my constant rebirth, and to fulfill I just have to breathe in you one more time. So when my time finally comes, I wishfully die by your order, for you. Sunlight’s a hand of a savior I reach out to from the depth of my love, believe me.”
Nicolo almost missed everything, too busy climbing the ups and downs in Yusuf's desert-like eyes, defined by sunlight, now more than ever. He noticed the oasis forming in them slowly, threatening to fall on his cheekbones any second now.
He shifted forward, getting so close to his lover he was breathing Joe’s exhale. Yusuf froze, hills now hidden behind eyelids, waiting. Nothing happened but a smirk on Nicolo’s face.
“Come swim with me.” He mouthed, lips touching Joe’s, driving his partner mad, amazed, craving.
He got up and almost ran, mouth formed into a big smile, making sure to make eye contact while taking his shirt off. Yusuf stared longingly and soon joined him in the water, content to follow his lead anywhere in this world and beyond.
Nicky splashed water as hard as he could till he was sure his lover was soaked enough, with a smile on his lips and oasis reduced to a mirage.
He suddenly grabbed Yusuf’s wrist, pulling him to himself. Hands locked behind Joe’s neck and staring deep into his burning eyes, he began.
“I’m not nearly as good as you with words amore mio, but I’ll try my best.
You’re not a wanderer nor a soldier, you’re the rain to the ocean, including the storm and the lightnings, and all the troubles you bring with you. You’re not just the artery, but the blood in my veins. None of this was ever about death, but the cycle of life, willing to drink the poison of revival each time your lifeless body hit the ground and you’re finally at peace.” Tips of his fingers were dancing on the back of Yusuf’s neck, light but enough for him to anchor in Nicolo’s words.
“There’s no golden cup and no treasure, Yusuf, nothing to gain here. The valuation was done all by you, rummaging through me like no one has before, kind enough to believe even the little shells were worth something, and drowning the jewels I once believed were priceless. And what’s an ocean without the tides?
All this and you fail to see you’re the real treasure I keep in me. This is not a question of I will or I want, I can’t do this without you. Without the squall I fail to exist and to be honest, I like it when you rearrange my guts.”
Despite his attempts at humor, Yusuf remained silent, eyes flickering over Nicolo’s face, searching for some certainty to convince his mind to believe what his heart deeply wanted to. It reminded Nicky of some child trying their best to believe their mother’s words, even though they’re already aware everything said was just to quiet them. Nicolo recognized it cause he used to feel the same, and he knows it well enough to realize it has to go through Yusuf’s brain in it’s own pace. It will be painful and long, like a bowl you put under the roof’s leak. One raindrop.
A long pause.
Then another.
You start to believe you’ll never see the bowl full, you turn your head and close your eyes, and get used to the sound of plinks in the background. The next thing you see is an overflowing bowl you rush to.
For now, there’s nothing more he could do, but to love. So he just shifted closer to Yusuf, whispering loud enough only for him to hear.
“انت کل الحیاة”
This time, Yusuf lost the patience game, hands finding their usual place on Nicky’s waist, and the river started flowing into the sea once again. The kiss was firm and passionate, like a red wax you use to seal a letter, like a promise of never taking back the said words.
Nicolo’s fingers threaded into Yusuf’s hair, pulling his head back only to dive into him even more passionately. A small sound came out of Nicky’s chest, something deep and wanting. Yusuf tugged him closer —if it was even possible— slipping his tongue on Nicolo’s lips, feeling the softness of his mouth in contrast to the hard seashells under their bare feet. The calm water was moving along with their push and pull now, the sea testing their steadiness with its waves, as if it was excited as they were.
There was this thing about Yusuf’s hands on him, demanding, powerful but smooth. He would always use the right amount of pressure, like a bee feeding of a flower, taking enough for his own needs but careful not to hurt the delicate petals.
Nicolo could almost sense the hands on the back of his thighs now.
Feeling hot and bothered (literally and metaphorically), he groaned and finally got up, completely aware that seeing only one person would cheer him up.
Following the smell of food with a grumbling stomach, the not-so-young man got down the stairs, and just then heard the slow Arabic song playing on the radio.
It was his man’s favorite way of listening to music, using cassettes and an ancient player he was gifted decades ago.
Nicolo still remembered how he used to be disinterested in many things, specifically old stuff. Now he cherished them, saving everything he and his husband could in this house, keeping them close to his heart.
Yusuf’s existence came along with chaos. There was this restlessness deeply rooted inside him, making him constantly look for the greater meaning behind everything. He used to go through religion to religion, god to gods, history book after history book trying to find out a truth no man’s hand ever reached. And then there was Nicolo, who was done with everything and everyone so long before meeting Yusuf, bored with the world, bored with being. He’d tried gods and meanings, he tried his hardest but what’s there to see but an endless bond of blues while stuck on an outlying island?
This was his sole reason for joining the war where he met Yusuf: boredom.
It took so long after their first meeting/swordfight till the black and white learned to sit side by side, not only brightening each other but mixing at some point. The result was some gorgeous shade of gray, a balanced tone that none of them experienced during their previous lives.
Nicolo broke it into Yusuf through sword and tongue, each crossing the other man’s; that you have to sit still and stare long enough until you see the other side of everything: nothing.
There’s no god to serve nor any good intentions behind the wounds healing up every time, whether you want them to or not. There’s no satisfying reason behind seeing your loved ones sick and fallen, religions changing in favor of power or your mother tongue turning into something you barely understand. Life is not a treasure map, giving you a direct route to some buried chest and a justification for everything you’re going through.
But life’s a collection of happenings seemingly insignificant: having a cup of tea with your friend, watching a mama bird protecting it’s dead eggs, reading your favorite poem to someone else who listens, waiting for your tree to bloom in spring even if it didn't last year’s; their price not fair nor logical, nonetheless, we’re sentenced to pay. And that was the lesson Nicolo learned when Yusuf dug enough to reach his buried self; that maybe, just maybe there was a cause making sense of it all, wrapping every little moment in warmth of nostalgia or eagerness to experience, the willingness to pay. Nicky liked to quote his favorite author —Oscar Wilde— to explain:
“Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead. The consciousness of loving and being loved brings a warmth and richness to life that nothing else can bring.”
Then it was simple as that, in Yusuf’s presence, he never got tired of anything, not anymore.
So when he reached the kitchen door, finding his husband with his muscular back turned to him, his raging mind finally calmed down. After many years of companionship, his heart was at peace, not beating out of his chest with his sight but full with sense of safety and familiarity. To put it another way, an old love feels like water, you may not get excited like when you’re trying a new drink or sick when you’ve had tons of it, but it becomes a vital need, there’s a constant thirst which only quenchs by your other half, regardless of how much you’ve had throughout the years.
Yusuf’s grown-out curls (which were long because he was bribed so many times by the Italian to let them have matching long hair) sat perfectly on his head. He was murmuring the song under his breath and his fingers were busy adding oil to the pan, rays of sunlight tattooed on chopped and organized ingredients right next to the stove.
A large smile appeared on Nicolo’s face and his whole mood changed instantly.
To hell with morning sexs.
There’s always a tomorrow, right?
Joe was so lost in thoughts, lyrics, and food; he was completely unaware of his surroundings. After a minute or two, when Nicky finally had enough of eyefucking his partner, he reached out and hugged him from behind, hard and unexpected enough for Yusuf to drop his spoon.
“NICKY!” Planting a kiss on his husband’s cheek, he successfully stopped Joe's whining in a millisecond. “You’re finally up.”
“Buongiorno.” “Well, it’s almost 11 am caro, but good morning to you too.” He reached out to pick another spoon up while his husband was still holding on to him, refusing to let go yet. Nicky breathed in Joe’s mixed smell of body with food, pressing his partner closer to himself. There was no way to describe Yusuf’s real smell, a scent of cinnamon and new books, perhaps.
He was just so cute and irresistible in his famous “kiss the chef” apron. Andy made fun of it every single time, no exceptions.
“Caro?” Nicolo called, Yusuf just humming in response. “Do you remember how you used to say earth is like a twin, sun holds us in its arms when we wake up and moon, when we sleep? Like two mothers taking care of their children?”
Yusuf sneaked a glance at him with an amused grin. “Yes, why?”
The answer came out of Nicky after shrugging his shoulders. “Nothing serious, it just came back to me today.”
“Oh you woke up and your first thought was lesbians? Questionable.” Joe raised his eyebrows then laughed, followed by a chuckle leaving Nicolo’s chest. “Even though I myself think about “the handmaiden” a lot. What a great movie.” Yusuf added before picking up chopped potatoes and Nicolo’s laughter shaking them both.
Joe’s fingers grabbed his lover’s hands locked on his stomach, slowly untangling them, an act which made the lingering smile on Nicolo’s face disappear. “It’ll burn your hands.” Yusuf, knowing him well enough, explained.
“I’m immortal, Yusuf.” Nicky deadpanned, voice edged with annoyance.
“I still don’t want to hurt you, immortal.” Yusuf breathed, right before the loud disapproval of fries to the heat, began. Nicolo rolled his eyes and wetted his lips in order to suppress a new smile.
Just when he was about to sneak out, he heard. “Pick that up حیاتی, will you? And wash it, please.” Well, Nicky hated washing dishes; but he was at fault —also he would do anything for his husband— so he decided to just accept his fate like a caught animal, beat but not with no bites.
He kneeled just by Joe’s feet. Knowing exactly what he’s doing, the wooden spoon in his hand, he looked up at Joe and mouthed, “Yes, سیدی.”
Both mesmerized by each other’s eyes, held eye contact till Joe couldn’t take it anymore. “For fuck’s sake, Nicolo, stand up, or you have to take my dick in your mouth in three seconds and we will have burnt omelette for food.”
Nicky laughed wholeheartedly while listening to Joe’s command, but did not get away from him before kissing Yusuf on the lips. Just when he was about to deepen the kiss, Yusuf growled and pushed Nicky away.
“NICKY, I TOLD YOU TO BRUSH YOUR TEETH BEFORE KISSING ME IN THE MORNING.” Nicky made a face and tried to run away from Joe (unsuccessfully, his husband’s spoon hit his buttcheeks anyway.)
“Stronzo”
“Sorry, حبیبی.” Not meaning it even in the slightest bit.
Joe kept nagging and lecturing Nicky about morning breath, though playfully. Nicky smiled while washing the wooden spoon, thinking about how Joe is the only one making him do so while doing something he hates.
“The sun is new each day.” Heraclitus believed.
So did Nicolo.