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they sit in silence in moonlight on silk sheets. antonio normally finds himself humming one of many tunes constantly intruding into every thought, but tonight, he is silent. joseph is anxious, tapping his foot against the wood, not frantic enough to ruin the otherwise silence.
"it came off while playing again?" joseph asks, voice hush.
on the bed sits a small first aid kit and medical sewing supplies. if antonio's heart was still beating, he would be shivering, shirtless in his lover's room with a soft breeze blowing from the open window. the white curtains moved like ghosts, and the violinist's eyes are glued on them rather than joseph's delicate hands sewing his arm back in place.
antonio nods. "the second time this month. last time it came off during a match, remember?"
"i do, and i remember you having to surrender because of it, and you lamented more over your bow than your dominant hand."
the violinist looks beautiful. his hair drips over his shoulders and down to his lower back, completely out of the way of his face. his eyes (or lack thereof, antonio's story changes every time) droop in disappointment as they now stare at a speck on the floor. joseph continues sewing needle and thread into skin.
the photographer was disgusted by this ritual the first time it happened, what seemed like eons ago when antonio came hobbling to him with his leg missing. it's embarrassing falling apart in pieces in front of others, so the violinist came to the one person he trusted. and so started their ritual: antonio knocks on joseph's door (if he has the hands to do so), joseph pulls back his own hair and fixes him, and the two sit with antonio in an unnatural silence.
joseph is the corpse of his former self. antonio is rotting slowly from the inside-out.
"you know what will happen if i cannot play for just a moment, my love," antonio sighs, reaching to feel at the stitches only to find joseph swatting his hand away. a few more until he's finished.
"i'm more worried about what will happen in the future when i won't be able to do this again."
"perhaps i can ask mister lapadura to make me new limbs."
"only for your body to slowly be completely replaced by machines," joseph huffs and narrows his eyes, finishing the last stitch and tying off the end. "i don't think so, antonio."
the violinist's fingers immediately go to the skin on his arm, feeling over each stitch, tight and secure in the decay. he smiles and turns to face joseph, but his eyes follow first to the hand on his repaired arm. joseph raised the hand to his lips, kissing at the knuckles. if antonio could blush, he certainly would.
"this might be my best job yet," joseph muses. antonio's hand then slides up to joseph's cheeks, cupping it, feeling at the warmth the other artist radiated. joseph closes his eyes and leans into antonio's palm as the violinist strokes his cheek with his thumb. "will you be staying the night?"
"no harm in spending time with you, dear."
antonio pulls his hand off joseph and instead finds both of his hands in his hair, gently combing through the light blonde strands before undoing the yellow ribbon that kept it all together. the hair falls over joseph's face and shoulders, making the photographer let out an exasperated laugh. joseph strips his jacket off, staying in his half-buttoned shirt as the two of them collapse into the bed, laughing and embracing one another. they hug like they still need warmth in their immortality.
"i love you, antonio."
he returns the words with a kiss on a corner of joseph's mouth, and together, they melt into laughter and love.