Perfect, [ joe breathes, mouth quirking into an wry smile. he is incredibly self-aware lately of his hyperbole. ] Perfect for me, at least. The sun may set, but the moon remains to guide us and Nicolò is my moon.

When we met he was blinded by the hate that his people had taught him, but I have seen him grow and learn and set aside the monstrous views of his people. Even when he faltered or made mistakes, he kept trying, beat back the shame that seeped in through all his broken parts. Now he is the kindest, gentlest person most people will meet in their lives, his heart is so big. [ his smile has softened as he speaks, wry turning to warmth, warmer than the fire. it isn't as if a millennia of love can be distilled down into a few handful of sentences, but it is etched into every smile line and the crinkles at the edges of his eyes. nicky has held his heart for longer than it rested in joe's own chest, their love is as part of him as any essential organ or limb, embedded inside his ancient bones. ]

He is patient and compassionate and even though he will listen to anyone talk about their lives and experiences, he hates recipe blogs that don't just give the recipe, he can sometimes be so quiet it becomes unsettling but when he is home he never shuts up. Sometimes he packs for a trip a week before hand because he doesn't want to do laundry but then runs out of clothes anyway because he's packed them all. He is brave and beautiful and... [ he sighs, low. ] I miss him.