Chapter Text
It was an amusing sight to be sure, but above all, captivating.
Nicky’s eyes fluttered, all the while his lips did that quivering dance number that made the urge to let laughter escape from his own lips almost unbearable. His mouth was hanging open, just barely, making the quivering even more amusing, somehow.
No one looks particularly attractive while sleeping, but Nicky seemed to be the sole exception, to his eyes. One he couldn’t help but marvel at, even centuries after the first time they had decided that impaling one another over and over and over (and over) wasn’t exactly a productive way of spending the seemingly endless supply of time in their hands.
It was a strangely vivid memory, looking back on it.
At a certain point, they lost track of the amount of times they tried (and failed) to end the other one’s life.
Soon after, as their wounds healed themselves in an undeserved, (but deeply-appreciated) miraculous way, their eyes gave away the fact that they were both exhausted. Of everything. As the adrenaline settled down, and the pain started to subside, the underlying emotion that drove them to keep on trying to strike the other one down for good became more and more diffuse and unclear.
What are we even doing here? Who are we truly doing this for?
What’s the point of it all?
It was a depressing train of thought. Suddenly realizing the futility of it all. The ache in their bones. The misplaced passion in their hearts. The guilt, weighing down their souls. Their unquestionable stupidity, for falling prey to that never-ending cycle of violence that, unsurprisingly, led to more violence. It was hate, in its purest, most vile and disgusting manifestation. And it was exhausting. It took a toll on the body, but the one it took on the mind and their hearts was even more gut-wrenching.
As their breaths turned less agitated, and their desire to finish off their opponent once again made itself present, their eyes met.
And in that moment, the heartache laid itself bare.
Pain that no sword, dagger or arrow could hope to inflict, no matter how deep the wound they caused turned out to be.
After now countless attempts, it was starting to make sense why they both had now decided to lain their weapons. It was just a sick fucking game. It could be described more accurately as a dick-measuring contest. Arrogance. Heartlessness. Evil. An ungodly wheel of tears, sorrow and agony that kept on spinning round and round. A seemingly endless struggle that their opposing respective factions seemed hellbent on continuing, as long as they held breath in their lungs and the hilt of a sword in their calloused, bloodied hands.
For what felt like an eternity, the realization sunk in even deeper.
They had no reason to harbor so much animosity for each other. They were both equally alone, struggling to make sense of it all, and trying to make it to the following day, as unscathed as they possibly could.
Days bled into weeks. Weeks turned into months. The hours spent together blending into one another as a swift river, reaching out to the sea. So, they went well on their way towards it. It seemed only fitting.
It made no sense to try and go back to their old lives, knowing what they now knew. Despite not fully understanding whatever this curse, blessing or test was, one thing was clear. The answers they were seeking were ahead. The men they had been prior to that fateful day were a memory they had both decided to bury when they pulled each other up from the dirt, and made their way across the vast expanse known as No Man’s Land.
They only had each other now.
When they reached those sun-soaked shores, the subdued and soothing ferocity of the waves eased the load off from their shoulders. It wasn’t gone by any stretch of the mind, but it was nice to have it feel much less oppressing. It was… peaceful. They’d almost forgotten what it felt like, to feel that sense of calm overwhelm them, whilst having that burden suddenly disappear, as effortlessly as mist at the break of dawn.
As they reached the pier, the chance to leave it all behind and start over became clear. Dreadfully so. They felt like children all over again. So many words left unspoken. So many questions unanswered.
Could they really part ways so unceremoniously?
Could either of them cope with feeling so out of place once they did?
As they stared into the deep, never-ending expanse of blue, the feeling of dread increased exponentially. The thought of being apart from the one person in the entire world that knew exactly what the other one was going through was daunting. It’s wasn’t a pretty picture. It never would be.
Yusuf’s eyes became distant. His demeanor equally so. He’d been on his own for so long. He was used to it at this point. Fighting someone else’s battles. Keeping all his doubts and fears concealed behind the hilt of his dagger and the wooden handle of a crossbow.
He was accustomed to it, but certainly not content about it. Joy wasn’t a privilege Allah had planned for him. His mercy only went so far, seemingly. He’d made that abundantly clear.
Nicoló di Genova. Just months prior, he had been the enemy. Now, he was all he had. A man, as broken, lost and uncertain of the path ahead as he himself was. The thought of parting ways, there and then, was quite simply unbearable. He didn’t want to be alone again.
But what if Nicoló did? Could he change his mind?
Should he even try?
- Dove stiamo andando?– Where are we going?
The shock on his eyes remains, even as their gazes encounter one another.
The ghost of a smile appears on Nicoló’s lips.
He can’t help but lose himself at the prospect of having this kind-hearted and hopelessly amusing man by his side, for as long as he gets the chance to do so.
He replicates the gesture, fondly, unable to conceal the feeling of warmth now growing in his chest.
Nicoló places a hand over his shoulder, sending a pleasant sensation down his spine as a consequence.
- Sei bloccato con me adesso – You're stuck with me now
He finds himself laughing. The sensation has gotten more and more common, the longer he’s spent by this man’s side.
- Non sono sicuro che sia buona fortuna o il contrario – Not sure (if) it's good luck or the other way around
Nicoló’s eyes sparkle with what seems to be genuine joy, once he notices the playfulness in his voice.
He could get used to losing himself in those eyes.
- Immagino che lo scopriremo presto – I guess we'll find out soon
Before giving in to the temptation to do something reckless, he turns his eyes away, focusing on the heavenly view, expanding endlessly across the horizon.
- Almeno la vista è bellissima – At least the view is beautiful
He resists the urge to turn back into Nicoló’s soft features for as long as he can. A few seconds, at most.
When their eyes meet yet again, the need to lean into his slender frame, hold his cheeks in his hands and lose himself into Nicoló becomes excruciating. Inhumanly so.
Nicoló holds his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes lighting a fire in his chest.
- Per una volta siamo d'accordo – For once, we agree
While unable to voice his heart’s desire so blatantly, he allows himself the fleeting hope that Nicoló doesn’t just mean the setting sun, bathing the pier and their bodies in a cleansing breeze of golden warmth.
The path ahead was a daunting one, and with each passing day, the questions on his mind would only keep on adding in number. Sometimes, the feeling of dread and uncertainty would catch him by surprise. He’d have to learn to cope with the sensation, one way or another. He had nothing but time after all.
It was odd, to feel so much larger than life, and yet, at the same time, feeling as naive and unprepared as he did when he was only a child.
And yet, in this heart-warming, peaceful and small piece of eternity he found himself on, all those worries now seemed distant. Non-existent, even. They were waiting for the chance to strike, most certainly, but when they did, he wouldn’t have to face the nightmares on his own.
If his God was indeed still up there somewhere, looking down on him, he had provided him with a truly unexpected blessing. One he didn’t feel deserving of, but would still welcome with open arms.
To his eyes, every second he could spend by Nicoló’s side, was a miracle on its own.
For now, he was done troubling himself with what would be and what he’d be leaving behind. For now, for the first time in a long time, he felt a peace. Safe. Maybe even loved.
- You looking for something? –
Nicky's gentle, seductive and tired voice brings him back out from his nostalgic daze.
- Found something, rather –
- And what would that be? –
- Something... extraordinary –
Nicky rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, unable to raise himself from the bed of blankets, keeping the cold and damp dirt underneath from clawing at his side, and sending shivers running up and down through his body.
- Keep going –
- Ha! As if your ego needed to be bolstered even further –
- I can think of a way or two to make the effort worth your while –
Despite his half-asleep demeanor, the smugness in Nicky’s face makes him shove his leg with his foot.
- Idiota –
- It takes one to know one, luce mia –
Before he takes a lunge into Nicky’s body, he spares a second to make his intentions clear.
- You asked for it –
- Asked for… -
As he takes the leap and commences his playful strike, Nicky’s panicked shriek is quickly replaced by the sound of their joyous laughter, escaping from their chests and substituting the near-death silence previously reigning in the abandoned church.
Hours later (or at least what feels like so), he stops running his hands up and down Nicky’s body in an effort to hear that wild laughter be forced out of his sinfully beautiful body, instead opting to once again give into that sweet temptation of losing all sense of restraint, and staring deep into Nicky’s eyes as he lays on top of him.
As he stares into the windows giving away the evergreen heart, vibrant and thumping, deep in Nicky’s agitated and unfailingly warm chest, he feels his own heart breaking at the thought of being apart from the beautiful soul underneath him.
- Is something wrong? –
His voice provides with a sense of comfort unlike any other he’s had the pleasure of knowing. It’s when he’s lost in his arms that his invincibility truly feels justified and true.
He would take on Allah himself, if it meant a chance at spending yet another millennia cherishing (and being endlessly frustrated by) this idiota, who fondly (and repeatedly) reassured him that he was indeed the light of his life.
This man, who brought him joy and pleasure he didn’t feel worthy of, and who had stood by him through a million sunsets and an exponentially larger amount of caresses’ and sorrow’s.
A man that, even when he couldn’t help but find himself lost in doubt and in that cold, paralyzing dark, closing in on his fragile heart, would still remain by his side.
- Hey. Come back to me –
He blinks, holding back what can only be tears.
Does he deserve a soul as gentle as this one?
- Luce mia… -
Maybe it isn’t about what he thinks he deserves.
- I’m not letting you go –
He lays down on Nicky’s chest, closing his eyes and letting the rhythmic sound in his chest help peace reign in his own.
- I’m holding you to those words –
Nicky pulls him in closer, somehow. They clutch at each other tightly, and for a moment, the world doesn’t seem as hectic and abhorrent as usual.
As his heart syncs up with the one from his other half, he arrives at a conclusion he’s landed on countless times prior.
Maybe it’s not about what you deserve.
Sometimes, it’s alright to allow yourself some joy, just because.
Fuck it.
The world can wait.
Right now, all that matters is Nicky and him.
The world can keep on spiraling out of control for all he cares.
It can all wait.