It felt like when Ramin had touched him.
But no one was touching him. No one except a long-dead artist, who’d painted his soul up on a dry stretch of cracked wall.
The Last Supperwas gorgeous. Breathtaking. Perfectly imperfect—faded paint, cracked wall, and all. Its age only made it more beautiful.
Noah didn’t remember making his way to one of the benches sitting a few yards back from the barricade that stopped people from getting too close, but suddenly he was seated, and staring, rubbing his cross.
Angela sat next to him and leaned to bump his shoulder.
It felt like old times.
“What do you think?” she muttered. It was quiet in the refectory, a reverent quiet, some unspoken agreement keeping their voices down.
“It’s breathtaking.”
Sitting here, staring at Leonardo’s work, Noah felt the whispered awe of everyone else who’d ever come through here. Every art lover. Every historian. Every penitent. Everyone who wanted to feel connected to something bigger than themselves.
Angela leaned her head against his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her and sighed.
He could stay here for days.
“This is pretty cool.”
Then he pulled out his sketchbook and began drawing, the scratch of his pen echoing in the silence.
twenty-three
Ramin
Ramin had grand plans for the weekend. He was going to explore Como. Take the funicular up to Brunate, this little town on the mountain overlooking Como. Check out the Grindr map.
Instead, he found himself canceling his second night at the hotel, buying a train ticket, and hurrying back to Milan.
This was ridiculous. Heknewit was ridiculous. Tiny angel Farzan flapped his tiny angel wings over his shoulder once more, chiding him for getting dicknotized, arguing with tiny devil Arya, spinning his tiny devil tail as he told Ramin to buy some lube on the way back to his apartment.
But fuck it.
It wasn’t just the dick (though if Ramin was being honest with himself, hedidwant to get a look at it and not just feel it). It was Noah.
Noah, who was bisexual.
How had Ramin missed that? Had Noah been flirting with him this whole trip, and Ramin just missed it? Had he been reading every signal completely wrong? Why was Noah interested in him, anyway?
He shoved that thought aside.
Noah kissed him. Noahwantedhim. Maybe some part of him had always wanted Noah to want him.
So now Ramin was changing all his plans and rushing back to Milan. Back to Noah.
Just like the lovesick teenager he’d been all those years ago.
Fuckety-fuck. If this wasn’t Boring Old Ramin behavior, he didn’t know what was.
When the train reached the outskirts of Milan, Ramin’s phone began buzzing nonstop. It finally had signal again.
Noah
Made it back to Milan!
