Whew! I did it! I think part 7 was my longest part yet!
——————————- Part 7C ——————————-
He did not see where Nicolo has gone.
Yusuf’s heart thundered, battering his chest as he craned to see where Nicolo was. He last caught sight of Nicolo marching stiff limbed into the market. He disappeared between two stalls. Nicolo did not seem to have heard Yusuf call him as well.
The fabric in his fist was damp with sweat as he clutched it and the constellation scroll to his body. His other hand clenched around the dagger strapped to his upper thigh. He did not know why, but his heart demanded it. And he never failed to listen. After all, it was the one that told him to find the Frank who shared his affliction. It was a decision Yusuf clutched gladly to his heart as strongly as the scroll and cloth.
There!
Nicolo was standing in front of a stall, blankly staring at the inks and powders for stains. He stood apart from the wares, a fist held up in front as if he was uncertain if he wanted to strike out or not. Yusuf slipped next to him, careful not to touch him. Something told him not to touch Nicolo. Not right now.
The merchant was haggling with another about the decorative pigments on his table. Yusuf recalled declining to look the first time he passed the stall. It was a temptation, one they could not afford. Not right now.
“I had a dream of the women this morning,” Nicolo said. He did not glance over to Yusuf. He simply seemed to know Yusuf was there.
“I dreamt of them as well,” Yusuf murmured. He glanced over and realized Nicolo clutched the three copper coins in his trembling fist.
“The archer...She wore robes of that color.”
Nicolo did not point, but Yusuf’s eyes drifted to the tin pot of red ink. It was red as a ripe pomegranate. He thought it was a wondrous color for her. She looked fiery as the taller one. They looked like warriors yet with gentle hearts.
“It was the color of the blood I often saw on my hands,” Nicolo added. His eyes drifted to the other pots of ink. He stood so still, Yusuf would have believed Nicolo fell asleep.
“Nicolo...” Yusuf murmured, distressed. He shifted closer. He reached over and brushed the back of a finger against a thin wrist bone.
The copper coins rattled to the ground.
Nicolo uttered something under his breath. He crouched down to pick them up. Yusuf bent to help. He started when Nicolo knocked his hand away before he could pick up a single coin.
“I...sorry,” Nicolo muttered. His head dropped and rose immediately after. He snatched the coins before Yusuf could even spot them.
Yusuf frowned at the streaks of blood on Nicolo’s fingertips. Nicolo scraped too close the the ground. When Nicolo saw where his eyes were, he scrubbed his hand clean on the hem of his tunic.
“Healed,” Nicolo murmured. He showed Yusuf his hand.
Yusuf wrapped his hand on the unsteady fingers. Nicolo stared at Yusuf.
“Healed, yes,” Yusuf said. He studied Nicolo’s face. His mouth crinkled sadly. “But are you better?”
Nicolo’s face went slack. He wore an empty look Yusuf seen once on a pale invader shackled and left for dead and resigned to it. It was that look, Yusuf now realized, that made him hack away the chains so harshly it blunt his scimitar.
“Nicolo,” Yusuf began.
Nicolo’s expression flickered with a flash of despair that felt like a dagger to Yusuf’s heart, and then it was gone. Nicolo rose to his feet, clutching the copper coins as if he would rather toss them.
Yusuf slowly rose to his feet as well. He felt lightheaded, unsure if he have truly seen it, dreading that he did.
“I...” Nicolo sounded small. “I do not think I would be much help in the library today.”
Yusuf’s brow knitted. He remembered and made a face.
“Uh, no, no library.” Yusuf shrugged when Nicolo glanced over. “It was a lie.”
“A lie,” Nicolo repeated numbly.
How does he explain he feared they wanted Nicolo to work at the docks again? How does he explain he feared Nicolo would say yes?
Yusuf shrugged again. “I am selfish. I grew weary of ink and texts and wished for company in my laziness.” He darkened. “And I did not like they will not let you rest.”
Heat flushed Yusuf’s cheeks. If only Nicolo would stop staring.
“It...it was a necessary lie,” Yusuf fumbled.
Nicolo broke his gaze. He studied the pots of inks instead. The merchant scowled at Nicolo’s bowed head and went to ply his attentions to another.
Yusuf wanted to kick the table and watch the ink mix into a useless puddle in the ground.
“A necessary lie,” Nicolo repeated. He sounded thoughtful.
“We...we could go explore the market,” Yusuf suggested hesitantly. “We have not seen it all. Or...or we could sit by the river. I have learned about those strange long legged birds. I could tell you about them.”
Nicolo seemed to shrink under Yusuf’s eye.
“We could go home,” Yusuf murmured. He patted the scroll tucked under his arm. He stepped closer to Nicolo. “There is a scroll I would like to show you again. We could go home, hm?”
Nicolo nodded. His shoulders drooped.
“All right,” Yusuf murmured. He slipped his arm over Nicolo’s shoulders. He can’t seem to stop from touching Nicolo. There was a yearning to feel his friend close by, warm and intact, close within reach and well.
“All right,” Yusuf said, hushed, “Let’s go home.”
Nicolo excused himself the moment they returned. He went to borrow the large wooden basin from their neighbor Yazim. The widow often left it out so they can share it to wash their clothes or fill it with water to wash themselves. Yusuf offered to boil water for his bath first. Nicolo said he was fine to clean himself with the cool water from the well.
Yusuf drew enough water from the well for tea and the broth the tea merchant had taught him. A bit of salted fish, the dried herbs and the last of the shin went into their small pot after the water boiled. He balanced hearty chunks of bread on the pot lid like this morning so they would soften and warm.
While Nicolo washed, Yusuf used some of the boiled water for tea. He frowned, wondering where the other cup went. His frown deepened when he spotted a shard on the floor. Ah, that would explain why Nicolo abruptly walked ahead of Yusuf when they drew near their pathway.
“I broke the cup,” Nicolo murmured. He stood by the door, his hair damp, his reddened cheeks only now paling from the harsh scrubbing Nicolo favored of recent. Yusuf sometimes found spots of blood on the rags they used for bathing, but Nicolo never said so Yusuf did not ask.
“It is fine,” Yusuf reassured Nicolo. “Were you able to drink all the tea?”
Nicolo nodded.
Yusuf beckoned Nicolo with a hand. “Do not stand by the door. You will be cold.”
Nicolo remained by the doorway. He looked lost.
Yusuf walked over to Nicolo. He settled his hands on Nicolo’s shoulders.
“You are shivering.” Yusuf frowned. “I should have heated the water for you first.”
Nicolo shook his head. “I am not cold.”
“Lies,” Yusuf said lightly as he guided Nicolo to his pallet.
“A necessary lie.” Nicolo laughed strangely.
“Perhaps but also an obvious one.” Yusuf sat down with Nicolo. He reached behind and unfurled the blanket and wrapped it around his friend’s shoulders. He kept his arm around Nicolo to keep the blanket in place. He sat there, his eyes watching the pot, comforted by the fact Nicolo stopped trembling.
Nicolo sighed. He slumped against Yusuf.
“You forgot where my bed was again,” Nicolo mumbled.
Yusuf chuckled. He pulled Nicolo closer to him, heartened Nicolo let him.
“My bed is warmer because you foolishly gave me the one closest to the fire.” Yusuf paused.
“Unless you secretly wish my bed will lit on fire and set me aflame in my sleep?” Yusuf chortled at the thought.
“I have done enough harm to you.” Nicolo fidgeted to get out from under Yusuf’s arm.
Yusuf tightened it, tucking Nicolo’s face to his shoulder. He was glad at this angle, Nicolo can not see how his face burned.
“That is in the past,” Yusuf rasped. “And I recall I dealt as much on to you then.”
“I deserved it,” Nicolo said sadly. He pressed his face harder over Yusuf’s shoulder.
“Stop it.” Yusuf shook Nicolo but Nicolo refused to look up. “Stop this. Why are you—what is this?” It has been years since Nicolo grieved about his role in Antioch.
Nicolo shook his head.
“Why are you burdened with such thoughts again?” Yusuf whispered. “Do you know how much it hurts me to see you suffering like this?”
“Why would it hurt you?” Nicolo rasped as if it pained him to talk.
Yusuf swallowed. He took a breath to shore up his nerve.
“I feel a thousand deaths when you are like this,” Yusuf said hesitantly. “And I am willing to suffer a thousand more to find a way to find you joy.”
Nicolo was silent against Yusuf. He was still. Yusuf did not feel brave enough to see if Nicolo has perhaps fallen asleep.
“I find myself waking up every morning wondering how I can make you smile,” Yusuf continued. “I go to sleep dreaming about how to bring you joy.”
Against Yusuf, Nicolo’s breath stuttered.
Yusuf’s eyes burned. He forced himself to look at the pot lest embarrass himself by weeping.
“I feel you fading against me and I do not know why,” Yusuf whispered. “You tell me ‘Later’ but can that not be soon? Can that not be now? Please, what has bled you in front of me? Where is your wound that I may heal?”
Nicolo exhaled. He seemed to collapse into Yusuf. His breath felt shallow and cool against Yusuf’s arm.
“I will be fine soon,” Nicolo said. He breathed deep and released it slow. It sounded hollow. Nicolo felt hollow.
“You sound so sure,” Yusuf said into Nicolo’s damp hair. It smelled faintly like a familiar spice. How odd. He rubbed his chin into the top of Nicolo’s hair.
“You make it sound like a season that will pass,” Yusuf mused. He pulled the ends of the blanket tighter around Nicolo.
“It will be over soon.” Nicolo hesitated. “And then...We could...we could move into the city? By the libraries? Or leave Cairo and find the women in our dreams?”
Yusuf closed his eyes briefly. He thought quickly of what they have and what precious metals and gems they were able to collect so far.
“Yes,” Yusuf lied. “We have the coins.”
“Yes,” Nicolo said. He sounded strange, absentminded. “We will.”
“Ah,” Yusuf tsked. “I have great news. I was eager to tell you but have forgotten when I found you in the docks.”
Nicolo tensed and pulled away. He remained huddled within the blanket, but he stared at Yusuf with wary eyes.
“You said you did not find work at the docks,” Nicolo said tersely.
“And I did not.” Yusuf gestured towards the small curl of fabric on the table. “I have found another to sell my scrolls. Aziz in the market wished to buy them. He has even paid a portion to ensure I sell to no one else.”
Nicolo stared at Yusuf.
“Aziz,” Nicolo said slowly, testing the name in his mouth. “Yes, that is good news.”
Yusuf wondered why Nicolo did not look as pleased. Nicolo looked weary, smaller under the blanket like it weighed him down.
“Yes,” Yusuf said gently. He grasped one of Nicolo’s wrists. He felt lightheaded like when he was at Aziz’s stall when Nicolo did not pull away.
“With what he promised, we will have healthy funds.” Yusuf carefully rubbed the round bone that jutted out from Nicolo’s wrist.
“You are so thin,” Yusuf murmured. “Thinner than we first met. Please do not go to the docks any more. I will make more art, sell more scrolls. Aziz’s interest is promising. We need not worry about coin.”
“Not go to the docks?” Nicolo sounded wistful.
Yusuf nodded. “Rest. Eat. Go to the libraries with me every day. We will read the texts together. You will read the Arabic horribly of course but it would greatly entertain me—“
Yusuf huffed when Nicolo kicked his hip, a weak blow, but Yusuf could not help but grin.
“You look like a fool like that,” Nicolo told him. He sat back against the wall. His smile was faint, his eyes still looked so weary.
“You have lost your mind. You forget your bed. You want to do pointless things for me. And now you grin like a fool.” Nicolo shook his head.
“I grin because of the joy I feel I can make you happy. It is never pointless.” With a boldness Yusuf did not think he possessed, he grasped both of Nicolo’s hands. He pulled the cool fingers to his mouth. He brushed his lips across the knuckles.
“A few days,” Yusuf murmured against Nicolo’s fingers, “A few days I will see Aziz and receive his coin. A few days, Nicolo.”
“A few days,” Nicolo echoed. “Yes, it will be fine. In a few days.” His fingers twitched in Yusuf’s grip.
Yusuf gazed at Nicolo. He kept his eyes on Nicolo as he brought up Nicolo’s hands to his lips. He kissed the knuckles.
Nicolo’s hands curled under Yusuf’s mouth. He sighed and tugged his hands away.
“The pot is boiled,” Nicolo murmured. His mouth twisted into a sad smile. “I think whatever poison you made is ready.”
Yusuf touched his own mouth. He felt giddy, a dizzy kind of euphoria when he caught Nicolo’s blue gray eyes drift to his lips before hastily looking away.
“I made broth,” Yusuf told Nicolo as he memorized the shy flush on Nicolo’s cheeks. “It smells like your feet when you take your boots off, but the healer in the stall said it will help with poor stomachs.”
Nicolo swung the bed’s cushion at Yusuf. Yusuf leaned in so it would connect with his head.
“You will eat?” Yusuf said hopefully. Rest and food was all they could afford right now. He prayed their immortality will stave the worst of what ailed Nicolo. Yusuf would gladly do the rest. He was willing to starve to death if it spared food for Nicolo.
Nicolo exhaled. He nodded.
“I will eat.” Nicolo sat up straighter. “Here. Feed me this poison you have concocted.”
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timeasmymeasure
Yusuf/Nicolo Forced Prostitution Fill : Needs of the Other 7C/12
Date: 2020-10-04 04:50 pm (UTC)——————————-
Part 7C
——————————-
He did not see where Nicolo has gone.
Yusuf’s heart thundered, battering his chest as he craned to see where Nicolo was. He last caught sight of Nicolo marching stiff limbed into the market. He disappeared between two stalls. Nicolo did not seem to have heard Yusuf call him as well.
The fabric in his fist was damp with sweat as he clutched it and the constellation scroll to his body. His other hand clenched around the dagger strapped to his upper thigh. He did not know why, but his heart demanded it. And he never failed to listen. After all, it was the one that told him to find the Frank who shared his affliction. It was a decision Yusuf clutched gladly to his heart as strongly as the scroll and cloth.
There!
Nicolo was standing in front of a stall, blankly staring at the inks and powders for stains. He stood apart from the wares, a fist held up in front as if he was uncertain if he wanted to strike out or not. Yusuf slipped next to him, careful not to touch him. Something told him not to touch Nicolo. Not right now.
The merchant was haggling with another about the decorative pigments on his table. Yusuf recalled declining to look the first time he passed the stall. It was a temptation, one they could not afford. Not right now.
“I had a dream of the women this morning,” Nicolo said. He did not glance over to Yusuf. He simply seemed to know Yusuf was there.
“I dreamt of them as well,” Yusuf murmured. He glanced over and realized Nicolo clutched the three copper coins in his trembling fist.
“The archer...She wore robes of that color.”
Nicolo did not point, but Yusuf’s eyes drifted to the tin pot of red ink. It was red as a ripe pomegranate. He thought it was a wondrous color for her. She looked fiery as the taller one. They looked like warriors yet with gentle hearts.
“It was the color of the blood I often saw on my hands,” Nicolo added. His eyes drifted to the other pots of ink. He stood so still, Yusuf would have believed Nicolo fell asleep.
“Nicolo...” Yusuf murmured, distressed. He shifted closer. He reached over and brushed the back of a finger against a thin wrist bone.
The copper coins rattled to the ground.
Nicolo uttered something under his breath. He crouched down to pick them up. Yusuf bent to help. He started when Nicolo knocked his hand away before he could pick up a single coin.
“I...sorry,” Nicolo muttered. His head dropped and rose immediately after. He snatched the coins before Yusuf could even spot them.
Yusuf frowned at the streaks of blood on Nicolo’s fingertips. Nicolo scraped too close the the ground. When Nicolo saw where his eyes were, he scrubbed his hand clean on the hem of his tunic.
“Healed,” Nicolo murmured. He showed Yusuf his hand.
Yusuf wrapped his hand on the unsteady fingers. Nicolo stared at Yusuf.
“Healed, yes,” Yusuf said. He studied Nicolo’s face. His mouth crinkled sadly. “But are you better?”
Nicolo’s face went slack. He wore an empty look Yusuf seen once on a pale invader shackled and left for dead and resigned to it. It was that look, Yusuf now realized, that made him hack away the chains so harshly it blunt his scimitar.
“Nicolo,” Yusuf began.
Nicolo’s expression flickered with a flash of despair that felt like a dagger to Yusuf’s heart, and then it was gone. Nicolo rose to his feet, clutching the copper coins as if he would rather toss them.
Yusuf slowly rose to his feet as well. He felt lightheaded, unsure if he have truly seen it, dreading that he did.
“I...” Nicolo sounded small. “I do not think I would be much help in the library today.”
Yusuf’s brow knitted. He remembered and made a face.
“Uh, no, no library.” Yusuf shrugged when Nicolo glanced over. “It was a lie.”
“A lie,” Nicolo repeated numbly.
How does he explain he feared they wanted Nicolo to work at the docks again? How does he explain he feared Nicolo would say yes?
Yusuf shrugged again. “I am selfish. I grew weary of ink and texts and wished for company in my laziness.” He darkened. “And I did not like they will not let you rest.”
Heat flushed Yusuf’s cheeks. If only Nicolo would stop staring.
“It...it was a necessary lie,” Yusuf fumbled.
Nicolo broke his gaze. He studied the pots of inks instead. The merchant scowled at Nicolo’s bowed head and went to ply his attentions to another.
Yusuf wanted to kick the table and watch the ink mix into a useless puddle in the ground.
“A necessary lie,” Nicolo repeated. He sounded thoughtful.
“We...we could go explore the market,” Yusuf suggested hesitantly. “We have not seen it all. Or...or we could sit by the river. I have learned about those strange long legged birds. I could tell you about them.”
Nicolo seemed to shrink under Yusuf’s eye.
“We could go home,” Yusuf murmured. He patted the scroll tucked under his arm. He stepped closer to Nicolo. “There is a scroll I would like to show you again. We could go home, hm?”
Nicolo nodded. His shoulders drooped.
“All right,” Yusuf murmured. He slipped his arm over Nicolo’s shoulders. He can’t seem to stop from touching Nicolo. There was a yearning to feel his friend close by, warm and intact, close within reach and well.
“All right,” Yusuf said, hushed, “Let’s go home.”
Nicolo excused himself the moment they returned. He went to borrow the large wooden basin from their neighbor Yazim. The widow often left it out so they can share it to wash their clothes or fill it with water to wash themselves. Yusuf offered to boil water for his bath first. Nicolo said he was fine to clean himself with the cool water from the well.
Yusuf drew enough water from the well for tea and the broth the tea merchant had taught him. A bit of salted fish, the dried herbs and the last of the shin went into their small pot after the water boiled. He balanced hearty chunks of bread on the pot lid like this morning so they would soften and warm.
While Nicolo washed, Yusuf used some of the boiled water for tea. He frowned, wondering where the other cup went. His frown deepened when he spotted a shard on the floor. Ah, that would explain why Nicolo abruptly walked ahead of Yusuf when they drew near their pathway.
“I broke the cup,” Nicolo murmured. He stood by the door, his hair damp, his reddened cheeks only now paling from the harsh scrubbing Nicolo favored of recent. Yusuf sometimes found spots of blood on the rags they used for bathing, but Nicolo never said so Yusuf did not ask.
“It is fine,” Yusuf reassured Nicolo. “Were you able to drink all the tea?”
Nicolo nodded.
Yusuf beckoned Nicolo with a hand. “Do not stand by the door. You will be cold.”
Nicolo remained by the doorway. He looked lost.
Yusuf walked over to Nicolo. He settled his hands on Nicolo’s shoulders.
“You are shivering.” Yusuf frowned. “I should have heated the water for you first.”
Nicolo shook his head. “I am not cold.”
“Lies,” Yusuf said lightly as he guided Nicolo to his pallet.
“A necessary lie.” Nicolo laughed strangely.
“Perhaps but also an obvious one.” Yusuf sat down with Nicolo. He reached behind and unfurled the blanket and wrapped it around his friend’s shoulders. He kept his arm around Nicolo to keep the blanket in place. He sat there, his eyes watching the pot, comforted by the fact Nicolo stopped trembling.
Nicolo sighed. He slumped against Yusuf.
“You forgot where my bed was again,” Nicolo mumbled.
Yusuf chuckled. He pulled Nicolo closer to him, heartened Nicolo let him.
“My bed is warmer because you foolishly gave me the one closest to the fire.” Yusuf paused.
“Unless you secretly wish my bed will lit on fire and set me aflame in my sleep?” Yusuf chortled at the thought.
“I have done enough harm to you.” Nicolo fidgeted to get out from under Yusuf’s arm.
Yusuf tightened it, tucking Nicolo’s face to his shoulder. He was glad at this angle, Nicolo can not see how his face burned.
“That is in the past,” Yusuf rasped. “And I recall I dealt as much on to you then.”
“I deserved it,” Nicolo said sadly. He pressed his face harder over Yusuf’s shoulder.
“Stop it.” Yusuf shook Nicolo but Nicolo refused to look up. “Stop this. Why are you—what is this?” It has been years since Nicolo grieved about his role in Antioch.
Nicolo shook his head.
“Why are you burdened with such thoughts again?” Yusuf whispered. “Do you know how much it hurts me to see you suffering like this?”
“Why would it hurt you?” Nicolo rasped as if it pained him to talk.
Yusuf swallowed. He took a breath to shore up his nerve.
“I feel a thousand deaths when you are like this,” Yusuf said hesitantly. “And I am willing to suffer a thousand more to find a way to find you joy.”
Nicolo was silent against Yusuf. He was still. Yusuf did not feel brave enough to see if Nicolo has perhaps fallen asleep.
“I find myself waking up every morning wondering how I can make you smile,” Yusuf continued. “I go to sleep dreaming about how to bring you joy.”
Against Yusuf, Nicolo’s breath stuttered.
Yusuf’s eyes burned. He forced himself to look at the pot lest embarrass himself by weeping.
“I feel you fading against me and I do not know why,” Yusuf whispered. “You tell me ‘Later’ but can that not be soon? Can that not be now? Please, what has bled you in front of me? Where is your wound that I may heal?”
Nicolo exhaled. He seemed to collapse into Yusuf. His breath felt shallow and cool against Yusuf’s arm.
“I will be fine soon,” Nicolo said. He breathed deep and released it slow. It sounded hollow. Nicolo felt hollow.
“You sound so sure,” Yusuf said into Nicolo’s damp hair. It smelled faintly like a familiar spice. How odd. He rubbed his chin into the top of Nicolo’s hair.
“You make it sound like a season that will pass,” Yusuf mused. He pulled the ends of the blanket tighter around Nicolo.
“It will be over soon.” Nicolo hesitated. “And then...We could...we could move into the city? By the libraries? Or leave Cairo and find the women in our dreams?”
Yusuf closed his eyes briefly. He thought quickly of what they have and what precious metals and gems they were able to collect so far.
“Yes,” Yusuf lied. “We have the coins.”
“Yes,” Nicolo said. He sounded strange, absentminded. “We will.”
“Ah,” Yusuf tsked. “I have great news. I was eager to tell you but have forgotten when I found you in the docks.”
Nicolo tensed and pulled away. He remained huddled within the blanket, but he stared at Yusuf with wary eyes.
“You said you did not find work at the docks,” Nicolo said tersely.
“And I did not.” Yusuf gestured towards the small curl of fabric on the table. “I have found another to sell my scrolls. Aziz in the market wished to buy them. He has even paid a portion to ensure I sell to no one else.”
Nicolo stared at Yusuf.
“Aziz,” Nicolo said slowly, testing the name in his mouth. “Yes, that is good news.”
Yusuf wondered why Nicolo did not look as pleased. Nicolo looked weary, smaller under the blanket like it weighed him down.
“Yes,” Yusuf said gently. He grasped one of Nicolo’s wrists. He felt lightheaded like when he was at Aziz’s stall when Nicolo did not pull away.
“With what he promised, we will have healthy funds.” Yusuf carefully rubbed the round bone that jutted out from Nicolo’s wrist.
“You are so thin,” Yusuf murmured. “Thinner than we first met. Please do not go to the docks any more. I will make more art, sell more scrolls. Aziz’s interest is promising. We need not worry about coin.”
“Not go to the docks?” Nicolo sounded wistful.
Yusuf nodded. “Rest. Eat. Go to the libraries with me every day. We will read the texts together. You will read the Arabic horribly of course but it would greatly entertain me—“
Yusuf huffed when Nicolo kicked his hip, a weak blow, but Yusuf could not help but grin.
“You look like a fool like that,” Nicolo told him. He sat back against the wall. His smile was faint, his eyes still looked so weary.
“You have lost your mind. You forget your bed. You want to do pointless things for me. And now you grin like a fool.” Nicolo shook his head.
“I grin because of the joy I feel I can make you happy. It is never pointless.” With a boldness Yusuf did not think he possessed, he grasped both of Nicolo’s hands. He pulled the cool fingers to his mouth. He brushed his lips across the knuckles.
“A few days,” Yusuf murmured against Nicolo’s fingers, “A few days I will see Aziz and receive his coin. A few days, Nicolo.”
“A few days,” Nicolo echoed. “Yes, it will be fine. In a few days.” His fingers twitched in Yusuf’s grip.
Yusuf gazed at Nicolo. He kept his eyes on Nicolo as he brought up Nicolo’s hands to his lips. He kissed the knuckles.
Nicolo’s hands curled under Yusuf’s mouth. He sighed and tugged his hands away.
“The pot is boiled,” Nicolo murmured. His mouth twisted into a sad smile. “I think whatever poison you made is ready.”
Yusuf touched his own mouth. He felt giddy, a dizzy kind of euphoria when he caught Nicolo’s blue gray eyes drift to his lips before hastily looking away.
“I made broth,” Yusuf told Nicolo as he memorized the shy flush on Nicolo’s cheeks. “It smells like your feet when you take your boots off, but the healer in the stall said it will help with poor stomachs.”
Nicolo swung the bed’s cushion at Yusuf. Yusuf leaned in so it would connect with his head.
“You will eat?” Yusuf said hopefully. Rest and food was all they could afford right now. He prayed their immortality will stave the worst of what ailed Nicolo. Yusuf would gladly do the rest. He was willing to starve to death if it spared food for Nicolo.
Nicolo exhaled. He nodded.
“I will eat.” Nicolo sat up straighter. “Here. Feed me this poison you have concocted.”
“Gladly.”
—————
Nicolo’s turn tomorrow!