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“I want to go home.”
The soft declaration, spoken barely above a whisper, speared Yusuf through the heart. Outside, as if it could somehow understand the grief in Nicolò’s eyes better then him, a storm raged against the thin walls of the house.
Andromache and Quynh had made themselves sparse, retreating to their bedroom once it was obvious something serious brewed between them. Yusuf was surprised it took them as long as it did, after all, he’d been suffering his Nicolò’s silence for the past three days, an unbearable weight between them.
Now, they stood across from each other in the doorway to the kitchen, the space between them gaping, tearing Yusuf’s precarious self-control to shreds. He hated to see the man he loved in pain, to see the tortured expression on his face, one he hadn’t seen in years. Yet, he sensed that his touch would not be welcomed, that his beloved was struggling to get out the words and any distraction might steal them away with nothing but a stiff breeze.
Yusuf did not want that, could not bear Nicolò silence any longer.
“I’m sorry.”
He could feel his brows pull together in confusion, something Nicolò could not see because his eyes were fixed decidedly on his feet now, unable to look at him. Yusuf wanted to reach over and tilt his chin up, to understand what it was that was making this so difficult, why Nicolò hadn’t said anything sooner.
“Why are you sorry?” he asked instead.
“Because I know it is foolish…because if I am recognized-”
Yusuf winced, considered his words carefully, “it is likely…well its been many years Nicolò. I do not think your mother and father will still be-”
The words turned to ash on his tongue as Nicolò finally looked up, his eyes blazing with an intensity that did not invite him to finish his sentence. There was a long beat of silence before Nicolò sighed quietly, posture slumping, “I do not expect them to be.”
“Then why?” Yusuf tried to ask him gently, to make the question sincere.
He understood wanting to return to his homeland, he understood wanting to see his family, the same thought had plagued him endlessly for years. Still, he did not give voice to it because he feared what may happen, should he return and find them gone…no he accepted their death a long time ago. He did not want to tarnish what good memories he had of them with sadness.
More then that…Yusuf was afraid of what may happen if Nicolò was recognized, if they realized he was a deserter. He could not bear to watch him endure that suffering and even a quick death would be no mercy, not after all the revelations Nicolò had regarding his faith.
It was selfishness, because he knew how unlikely that was after all these years.
Nicolò looked at him for a long moment and it struck Yusuf that perhaps he did not know why. Perhaps, his beloved had simply been overcome by the urge, perhaps he did not have the same need to brush it aside as he had done.
“I would like,” he spoke slowly, weighing each word as he shaped it. “I would like to visit their graves, would like to know what became of my sister. I would like to…I think it would help me, help make it all real.”
Yusuf’s heart seemed to shudder inside his chest with the weight of emotion this man inspired in him. Nicolò could very well present himself as a statue, his stillness, his quiet, made it easy for those to overlook the simple kindness that seemed to seep from his skin, his touch, his mouth. His beloved rarely cared for himself in the way he cared for others, too quick to discipline himself for thoughts and actions that were never his fault.
Now, he was finally doing something for himself and Yusuf was helpless to resist. The weight of their age, their immortality had been growing heavy these past few years, as their bodies remained unlined and sturdy…he had not realized how deeply his lover was struggling.
He could bear this space no longer.
Reaching across to Nicolò he took his hand and tugged him close until he was in his arms, where he belonged. Nicolò pressed his face into his chest, his arms coming to wrap firmly around his waist and Yusuf settled a hand on the back of his head, simply holding him there.
“Very well, I think it is a good idea.”
Nicolò let out a sigh and Yusuf could practically feel the tension slide from his body, “thank you.”
“Hush, there is nothing to thank me for.”
They stood there in the dwindling light, the sun setting rapidly, and soon they would need to part if only to light the candles and finish cleaning up but for now, this was exactly what they needed, after too many days with this heavy thing between them.
“Where should I meet you?” Nicolò murmured after a long moment.
Yusuf stilled at the question, stomach twisting a little at the thought of abandoning Nicolò to his grief, all alone. That thought was unacceptable, there was nowhere his beloved could go that Yusuf would not find a way to follow. Risks be damned.
Tightening his arms around him, Yusuf turned his head to press a kiss to temple, “I am coming with you Nicolò and do not think you can talk me out of it.”
Yusuf would not lie, not even to himself, he knew that he had more then one motivation to follow him back to Italy. Not only would he never allow them to be parted for so long, he needed to be there to make certain he returned, to make certain circumstances beyond them did not steal the man he loved so fervently, from his arms.
“There really is no convincing you, is there?”
“Would you allow me to return to my home without you?”
Nicolò drew back only to kiss him fully, an impassioned press of lips, their bodies aligned closely together, an answer to his question that was as clear as any spoken words. Just like that, everything was right in the world once more.