Nicky’s first glimpse of Joe in many weeks is of the back of his head, the two of them separated by a throng of pedestrians. Joe has his beaten-up backpack slung over one shoulder, a crooked rainbow patch sewn onto the pocket, but Nicky would know him anywhere by his gait, the breadth of his shoulders, the curl of his hair, the way he nimbly weaves between tourists and strollers, and casually flips off cab drivers when they try to turn right on red. Seeing him is gloriously ordinary, and Nicky’s heart squeezes with delight as Joe turns left to head to the apartment where Nicky’s been making a makeshift home for all of them, waiting for each to return. Switching his heavy bag of groceries from one arm to the other Nicky quickens his pace, turns the corner after him, and mumbles a fervent Ligurian word of thanks for the thinned-out crowds.
The door to the apartment building has a keypad, and such things have been Joe’s nemesis for far too long. Nicky can see his profile now, the way he’s chewing on his lip as he presses four buttons and tries the door; presses four more and tries again.
“1099,” says Nicky as he slows to a stop beside him.
Joe looks up, eyes wide, and then he smiles so suddenly and broadly that Nicky can’t help but smile back, his whole being downshifting into something familiar and warm at the sight of the crinkles beside Joe’s eyes and the dusting of freckles on his nose.
“You’d think I’d remember,” says Joe, taking the grocery bag out of Nicky’s arms.
“You would,” says Nicky, turning to punch in the code and shivering once at the way Joe presses close. “Come inside.”
“Hmmm,” Joe agrees, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t make space for Nicky to move either, but instead presses a soft kiss to the back of Nicky’s neck, as if they aren’t on the street, as if it’s just the two of them, as if the moment is entirely private.
“Yusuf,” Nicky whispers, and Joe steps back, and when Nicky turns his head, Joe’s grinning again, and Nicky reaches out, tugs gently on the curl that’s fallen over Joe’s forehead. “I have missed you,” he says, and there’s a lump in his throat for some reason, and Joe’s expression is so fond.
“I’ve missed your pasta,” he says, and that surprises laughter out of Nicky, and he pulls on the door and ushers Joe inside.
