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“You done yet?”
Sid hums as the shutter clicks a half a dozen more times before he lowers the camera. “Almost.”
“Want to be done,” Geno mumbles and Sid twists at the hips, careful not to dislodge himself from the precarious foothold he has worked himself into on top of the boulder.
Geno is stretched out on the ground using Sid’s camera case as a pillow. His arms are crossed over his chest with his hands tucked under his armpits and the beanie on his head is pulled down so low Sid can barely see his face.
“You know you didn’t have to come.”
Geno waves a dismissive hand then tucks it away again. “You slip and fall in crevasse. Got stuck all alone and cut off leg, 127 Hours style.”
“He cut off his arm in that movie.”
Geno slides his hat up so he can look at Sid. “Any better? No.” He pulls the hat down again. “Now hurry. Hear about restaurant in town that sell giant cinnamon rolls. Want one before they run out.” Geno waves his hand again and Sid stares at him for a moment before turns around and snaps one more shot.
-
Two years ago the shutter on Sid’s favorite DSLR stopped working all of the sudden.
All of his colleagues told him to skip dealing with the hassle of the warranty and go to Geno who had an office in the basement. They promised he would be able to fix it in a matter of minutes.
Sid had both, no idea who the hell Geno was or any idea that the building even had a basement, let alone offices down there.
That might have been because there weren’t offices. He found Geno in a glorified utility closet hunched over his desk working on a 35mm, after getting turned around three separate times.
Geno had held his hand out for Sid’s camera and within thirty seconds it was as good as new.
A week later Geno fixed the zoom and two weeks after that the focus.
“Should just follow you around,” Geno had said as he handed the camera back and Sid, whose editor had been begging him to hire an assistant for months, had said, “why don’t you?”
So, Geno was liberated from his cramped closet space and has been following Sid to fifty five countries on four continents, keeping track of boarding passes and due dates for assignments ever since.
On paper, Geno is a terrible assistant. He’s not the most organized and he’s almost always late everywhere that they go but he has intangible qualities that make him invaluable to Sid.
If things get dicey somewhere, if they accidentally on purpose wander into someplace where they’re not supposed to be, Sid knows Geno will be able to talk their way out of it. He has charm for days and a willingness to throw himself into any situation no matter how silly it might make him look. He’s open minded and creative and even though he’s grumpy as hell about it, he’ll wake up with Sid at two o’clock in the morning and stand out in the cold in Iceland while Sid photographs a meteor shower.
His skill with camera repair is really just a bonus. Truth is there is no one in the world that Sid would rather spend a twenty hour layover with. Or, sit across from at a table in a crowded small town restaurant while they tried to eat a cinnamon roll that’s bigger than their head.
“I know you like,” Geno says and Sid blinks at him from over his coffee cup.
“What?”
Geno glances up as he attempts to cut the roll into more manageable pieces.
“I see you staring.”
Sid feels hot under the collar but shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”
“You bored with same old thing and now you want.” He lobs off an outer layer of the dough and precariously balances on his fork as he brings it over to drop onto Sid’s egg white omelet. It’s extremely difficult to eat well while they’re on the road but Sid always tries to do his best. Geno clearly doesn’t follow that same logic judging by the inch of cream cheese frosting coating his breakfast. “Know you have sweet tooth. Can’t hide that.”
Sid picks up his fork and and tries to push the pastry back but Geno hits his fork with his own.
“You keep.”
“I think you just don’t want to admit that you can’t eat that whole thing by yourself and ordering it was a mistake. We have to be on a plane in two hours and you can’t take it with you.”
Geno hacks off another piece and crams it into his mouth. “I show you,” he says around the mouthful and Sid’s face twists into disgust before he laughs and takes a bite of the piece that Geno gave him.
It’s tender and buttery and sweet and when he looks over at Geno he looks perfectly smug, like he knew he was right about how much Sid would enjoy it.
“Oh,” Geno mumbles as he digs into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He lines up the plate in view of the camera lens and takes a picture. “Have to post.” He raises the phone and points it at Sid. Sid laughs and covers his face with his hand.
“Don’t,” Sid says and when he lowers his hand Geno’s focus is back on his phone, typing out a caption. “I don’t even know why you have an Instagram if no one is going to see it.”
Geno shrugs and puts his phone down. “Is just for me.”
Sid has an Instagram. A professional profile where he posts the photos that the magazine didn’t want to use. He has an impressive, in his opinion, three hundred thousand followers and one of those is Geno.
Sid only follows a handful of people, his friends from back home, his sister, National Geographic, and the accounts of his favorite sports teams. He doesn’t follow Geno, although he’s tried.
Geno has a locked account and even though Sid sent a request to follow as soon as he figured out that the off center photo in the profile picture was Geno, Geno never accepted it.
“Why don’t you let me follow you?”
“Is not interesting,” Geno says. “Just food and pictures of cats I see…things like that.”
“I have a friend back home that posts a picture of his outfit every single day. Like I care about that. Cats would be refreshing.”
Geno shakes his head. “Not good pictures. Not like…” He trails off and nods toward Sid. “Not good like you.”
“Geno, that’s not…you shouldn’t compare yourself. As long as you’re passionate about the subject matter that’s gonna show in the photo.”
Geno chokes on the cinnamon roll and his face goes red and Sid pushes his glass or orange juice toward him.
“You okay?”
“Am fine,” Geno chokes out before he takes a sip. He clears his throat then adds “eat omelet. Don’t want to be late for flight.”
-
Geno looks a little green as he buckles himself into the seat beside Sid.
He definitely regrets the cinnamon roll even though he’ll never admit it.
“If you throw up—.”
“Won’t throw up,” Geno hisses and then rests his head against the window and closes his eyes.
“If you throw up,” Sid says quickly, “keep it on your side. Eleven hours is a long time to be sitting in someone else’s vomit.”
Geno flips him off and Sid laughs then decides to take mercy on him.
“Are you excited to go home?”
They’re flying to Portugal first, then Ireland, Croatia, Romania, and then to Russia in time to photograph the New Year celebrations in Moscow.”
Geno shifts uncomfortably. “Didn’t grow up in Moscow.”
“I know, but it’s still Russia.”
“Been a long time since I’ve been there,” Geno says flatly and as the plane taxis to the runway Sid lets the subject drop.
-
Sid spends three days photographing vineyards in Porto and two on Clare Island documenting its rocky coast. There’s waterfalls in Plitviče Lakes National Park and gothic architecture in Brasov.
The highlight of the trip is the New Years Eve in Moscow.
Sid stays along the outskirts of the celebrations. His job is to observe and document, not get involved, but he always keeps a visual on Geno even if it’s just out of the corner of his eye.
He knows he stands out with the camera hanging around his neck and he also knows that things can get tense with journalists. He only knows a handful of phrases in Russian, mostly what Geno has taught him and he’s positive those are not the kinds of things he should be saying while trying to de-escalate a situation. Geno is a lifeline right now. An anchor that Sid attaches himself to and orients himself around.
He takes wide panoramic shots of Red Square and close ups of signs written in cyrillic. Kids that are staying up past their bedtime and older couples walking hand in hand down the sidewalk between the vendors. He wants to give his editor a big pool to pick from even before the fireworks begin.
He gets caught up looking at a patch of graffiti on one of the brick buildings and when he turns around he has to search to find Geno.
Finally, he spots his head above the crowd talking to a man much shorter than he is. He almost has to bend down to hear what they’re saying. Geno laughs at what they’re saying, tipping his head back, and without thinking Sid lifts his camera up and takes a shot. He follows Geno has he slowly makes his way through the line, camera clicking.
Geno looks happier than Sid has ever seen him and something twists in his gut. He doesn’t know why Geno decided to leave Russia–he doesn’t talk about it, but looking at him now it seems clear that he would want to come back someday.
Maybe sooner than Sid would be ready for him to.
He lowers the camera as Geno says his goodbyes to the man and heads for Sid, holding his hands behind his back.
Geno stops in front of him and rocks back and forth on his heels.
“Have surprise,” he says, “hold out hand.”
Sid lets his camera fall around his neck. “What is it?”
Geno rolls his eyes. “Wouldn’t be surprised if I told you. Have to see. Hold out hand.”
Sid holds out his hand expectantly and Geno lets the moment breath for a moment before he drops a tangerine into Sid’s palm.
“What is this?”
“What it look like? Tangerine.” He digs his thumb nail into the one he’s holding and begins to peel it. “Eat,” he says and Sid starts in on his own.
“Come on,” Geno says as he pops the first section into his mouth. “Lots to see. Going to have fun.”
“I still have to get more shots,” Sid says and Geno shakes his head and lifts the camera from around Sid’s neck and puts it on his own.
“I watch you. You take millions of pictures. You have enough. Now you come and have fun.”
Geno starts to lead him through the crowd and it’s packed so tightly Sid has the wild thought to reach out and grab Geno’s hand, swinging freely at his side, just so they don’t get separated.
But they’re not the type of people to do that and even if they were, this is not the place to do it.
Instead, Geno turns and gathers Sid up, tucking him to his side with his arm around Sid’s shoulders.
“Don’t want to lose,” Geno says like it’s no big deal and Sid can only nod as they walk through the square.
There’s an ice skating rink in the middle of the square and games for kids and booths selling homemade gifts and food. So much food Sid’s not used to but he takes from Geno and at Geno’s encouragement, eats. They’re not all winners but it’s worth it for the way Geno laughs when he catches the disgusted look on Sid’s face when he tastes something he really doesn’t like.
“Terrible Russian, Sid,” Geno complains and Sid shakes his head and tosses the remaining Oliver Salad into a nearby trash can.
“That’s because I’m Canadian.”
“We see after this,” Geno says. “Want to go out and find real party. All they have is champagne here. Need vodka.”
“Yeah, I don’t know—.”
Sid’s interrupted by a loud pop and a moment later color explodes across the sky.
It’s later than Sid expected and soon the sky fills with splashes of red and white.
Sid reaches for the camera around Geno’s neck but Geno swivels out of the way.
“No, you watch, have fun.” He lifts up the camera. “I’ll take.”
“I really should get some shots in case they want them.”
“No one wants fireworks, Sid. All look the same. If they take a picture from you here you already took it. Now quiet,” he says over the booming of the fireworks. “Just watch.”
Sid tips his head up to watch the sky but it can’t hold his attention when Geno is standing beside him with the lights reflecting off his face.
Sid is thousands of miles from home and North American traditions but Sid can’t help but thinking about how much he wants to kiss him.
The thought hits him square in the chest and he feels hot beneath his coat despite the bitter cold that surrounds them.
He has to get out of here. He has to take a step back.
He puts his hand lightly on Geno’s back, something he must feel through the bulk of his coat because he turns and looks down at him, finger right about the shutter ready to take another picture.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think I’m going to go,” Sid says and it’s a true miracle that he found his voice. “I’m going to go back to the hotel.”
Geno blinks at him then looks up. “Fireworks just start. You going to miss.”
“I know but I’m not feeling well. I think it was that salad you gave me.”
Geno narrows his eyes. “You want me to come with?”
“No, no, stay. You’re having fun and you said you wanted to go out after…”
“But if you don’t feel good–.”
“I’ll be fine. I just want to get back to the hotel.” He holds his hands out for his camera and Geno slowly removes the strap from around his neck.
“You find it okay?”
“I have the address in my phone. I can make it. Have fun, you deserve it.”
“Sid,” Geno calls but Sid is already pushing his way through the crowd and away from him.
-
Back at the hotel Sid showers then throws on a pair of sweatpants before he plugs his camera into his laptop to download the photos.
He’ll weed out the ones that the obvious ones that he knows the magazine won’t take. Anything that looks a little blurry or out of focus get deleted along with the ones that he just doesn’t feel are good enough.
The photos that Geno took aren’t terrible. They’re clearly different from the ones that he took himself and he can’t imagine the magazine choosing them but he doesn’t want to delete them. He creates a new file and moves the photos there for safe keeping. Maybe he’ll get a few printed out and framed to give Geno as a gift sometime.
Sid slowly scrolls through the shots, paying a meticulous eye to the photos that he really like, trying to figure out if there’s anything wrong with it before he moves onto the next one.
Finally, he gets to the row of shots he took of Geno and sighs as he leans back in the desk chair.
Geno is undoubtedly the focus of all the shots. He stands out against the crowd and the chaos and the revelry and if Sid were picking for someone else, these are the series of shots that he would chose. Looking at the photos Sid feels like it’s glaringly obvious how he feels about Geno and anyone looking at them would be able to pick up on it. None of the other photos have the same feel to them, it’s only Geno.
He should delete them, just to be safe, no one needs to see these especially not Geno but he can’t seem to bring himself to do it. It would be a waste to erase these forever.
He’s still debating exactly what to do when he hears a thud outside his door. When he looks through the peephole he sees Geno in the other side, leaning heavily against the opposite wall and digging through his wallet.
Geno looks up when Sid opens his door and steps into the hall. He smiles and steps toward him, arms out for a hug.
“Sid. Do you feel better?”
He’s slurring just a bit and when Sid lets him go he wobbles.
“I’m fine,” Sid says, “are you?”
Geno shakes his head at the same time he says “yes, very fine. Meet a group of guys and we all went out. Lots of vodka. Not used to it. Too many years in America,” he says with a sad shake of his head then he thrusts the wallet into Sid’s hands. “Can’t find room key.”
Sid takes a quick look through the wallet but he can’t find it either. Odds are he left it behind in whatever bar they went to or dropped it on the street on the way back.
“C’mon,” Sid says as he grabs him by the arm. “You can stay in my room. They gave me a double.”
“Sid, best,” Geno says loudly and Sid yanks him into his room before he wakes the whole floor.
Geno goes easily when Sid pushes him through the door and collapses onto the bed before Sid even gets the door shut.
“You should take your jacket and shoes off,” Sid says, “and take a shower. You’ll feel better.”
“Good idea,” Geno says but he makes no effort to do any of those things.
“Okay,” Sid says softly as he steps between Geno’s knees and starts to tug at his coat zipper.
Geno laughs a little as as Sid’s hands brush against his stomach and he sits up so Sid can push it off his shoulders.
Sid chews at his bottom lip as he helps Geno disentangle his arms from the sleeves.
“Do you think you’ll come back here,” Sid asks and Geno furrows his brows.
“To visit?”
“To visit. Or to live. You looked happy tonight.”
Geno looks even more confused. “All my stuff is back in D.C.”
“Okay,” Sid says, recognizing that he’s not going to get anything out of Geno when he’s like this. It’s a conversation for another time or quite possibly a conversation that they don’t ever need to have. “I’m going to take your shoes off.”
Before he can kneel down Geno is reaching out to hold onto his t-shirt.
“Can’t have things here,” Geno says as his fingers curl into the fabric. He leans forward and rests his forehead against Sid’s stomach. “Can’t have you.”
Sid puts his hands on Geno’s shoulders, inching them up toward Geno’s neck.
“What do you mean?”
Geno shakes his head then abruptly falls back against the mattress. He throws his arm over his eyes and says “don’t know. Tired, Sid. Should let me sleep.”
“You don’t want to take a shower? I’ll start the water for you.”
Geno pulls his arm away and looks up at him, eyes clear and contemplative and Sid shifts on his feet under his gaze.
“You’ll feel better,” Sid says and doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s stepping away from the bed and into the bathroom.
He takes a deep breath as he starts the shower, keeping his hand beneath the spray until it’s the right temperature.
When he finally steps out Geno is off the spare bed and sitting at the desk looking at the photos.
“Oh,” Sid says, frozen in place as Geno scrolls through the shots that he took of Geno. He doesn’t know what else to say to him.
“Pretty shots, Sid,” Geno says quietly sounding a hundred times more sober than when he stumbled in. “Never knew I could look that good.”
“You always look good,” Sid says. “You looked happy. I’ve never seen you that happy.”
Geno frowns and clicks to the next photo, the one where he’s laughing. “That why you ask me if I was going to come back?”
“I’ve never seen you like that,” Sid says, “you should be happy.”
“You think I’m not happy?”
“I don’t know,” Sid says but when Geno pins him with a look he knows he has to give up a little more. “I think maybe you could have more than just following me around.”
“Like following you around, Sid.”
“You don’t have to say that. You can be honest.”
Geno opens his mouth then snaps it shut and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He pokes at it then hands it over.
It’s Geno’s Instagram and true to his word, there’s a lot of food and even more photos of cats. But, sprinkled in between Sid finds photos of himself.
There’s one of him from behind with the desert in front of him and another at the diner with his hand over his face, laughing. Sid recognizes the photos from Paris and Salvador and Manila. Warsaw and Kigali and Cairo.
They’re great photos, clear and focused but besides the technical aspect of them he doesn’t know what to think. He looks up at Geno for answers.
“Is why I don’t want you to see. You say to take photos of things I’m passionate about and…” He trails off and gestures to the phone in Sid’s hand. “I don’t want you to see because you don’t feel the same way. Would be embarrassing.”
“Geno–.”
“Probably shouldn’t have shown you.” He stands and holds his hand out for the phone. “I’ll go get key from front desk and we don’t have to talk about this. Forget I say.”
“Geno.”
“Love my job, Sid. Don’t want to leave it but now, if you want me–.”
Sid cuts him off with a kiss, one hand curling over Geno’s shoulder to drag him down to his level. He tosses Geno’s phone blindly toward the bed and puts his hand on Geno’s face as Geno kisses him back.
When they pull away Geno pushes his forehead against Sid’s. “Not moving back here,” he says softly and Sid nods.
“Good,” Sid whispers back. “I don’t want to break in a new assistant.”
Geno rolls his eyes and tries to pull away, laughing as Sid holds on tighter and kisses him again.