"And here we can see letters written from a famous merchant to an unknown lover in the fourteenth century. Many of the letters have degraded, but the ones on display are still legible. It appears the letters were never sent. Moving on…"

Nicola leans closer to the glass, letting the tour guide move on without him. The handwriting seems familiar, even though the signature is obscured. This happens every once in a while. He gets nostalgic, goes to the nearest museum, and then finds something a friend or family member left behind. It is a hazard of immortality. The other hazard, of course, is the fading memories of long ago making identifying some of these objects difficult.

Even so, he knows this handwriting. It is so familiar, but it couldn't be who he thinks it is. Adamo doesn't feel this way towards anyone, certainly not anyone whose name starts with N.

But the handwriting is unmistakable. While reading the second displayed letter, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and deftly dials Adamo's number. Adamo picks up halfway through his second read-through.

"Nicola! I was just going to call you."

"I was wondering if you would like to get brunch? The little cafe by the museum?"

"I'll be there in 20."

"See you then!" Nicola smiles and reads the displayed letters one more time before turning and heading to one of their favorite cafes.

Adamo is five minutes late when the waitress places their normal orders on their customary small bistro table outside. It is a beautiful autumn day. Pleasantly cool but not so cold that he needed a coat, and warm enough in the sun to take off the sweater Nicola threw on before he left home in the morning. Nicola leans back taking a sip of his espresso when he sees Adamo sauntering up with his sweater thrown casually over his shoulder.

"Ah! Perfect timing," he says as he sits in his customary spot, "how's the espresso?"

Nicola sets his cup back on the saucer and smiles, "perfect as always."

During brunch, they fall into a time-old routine, conversation following familiar patterns of give and take as they have for over 800 years. As the dishes are cleared away, they stand to continue talking while they walk.

"What if we walked through the museum today? I heard there were new exhibits, we haven't been in at least fifty years."

Stolen story; please report.

Adamo chuckles, "Seventy, I think. Shall we laugh at the errors?"

They walkthrough the museum, Nicola taking them on a circuitous route as they laugh at a misattributed armor here or a misdated painting there, reminiscing over details that have long faded to the back of their memory.

"This was a great idea," Adamo smiles, holding back a laugh, as they round a corner, "I had almost forgotten most of this. We should do this more often!"

"You say that every time, and yet we only manage to go through a museum once a century or so."

He sighs, "How time slips away from us." Adamo takes a few more steps before noticing Nicola is no longer standing next to him. He turns to see him staring intently at some letters through the glass. "Something interesting?"

"Hmm… It's just… this looks like your handwriting."

"What?" He walks over before joining Nicola to inspect the letters. Realizing what they are, he quickly turns away and deflects "No. Can't be. I don't remember ever writing anything like that."

Nicola straightens and examines the man who has been his best friend for centuries. He recognizes the lie. The way he is turned, the nervous tapping of his fingers against his thumb, the slight blush he is doing his best to hide. He lets the moment linger, the embarrassment and nervousness thick enough to be cut with a knife before he softly whispers "Why didn't you tell me?"

Adamo flinches and starts to walk away. Nicola stumbles to keep up. "There are so few of us. I've seen it happen before, two close friends spend centuries together until one develops feelings and then the friendship cracks and fades leaving both alone." He stops abruptly and collapses onto a bench lining the corridor, head bowed he scrubs his hands through his hair before leaning back and staring Nicola straight in the eye. "I would rather ignore my feelings than lose you. I promise I will never come on to you or make you feel uncomfortable, but please don't leave."

Nicola sweeps down to kneel in front of him without breaking eye contact and wraps Adamo's hands in his own. "Do you know what would have happened if you had sent me those letters?" Adamo looks away and Nicola gently caresses his chin redirecting until they lock gazes again. "If you had sent me those letters, I would have given you this," Nicola pulls an ornate silver ring out of his pocket. "I made this for you when I was a silversmith in 1350, and I didn't give it to you for the same reasons you didn't send those letters to me," he slips the ring onto Adamo's finger. It is a perfect fit.

Adamo looks between the signet ring, a finely made piece combining their crests into a new house sigil, and Nicola's eyes. The more he looks at the ring, the more sure he is that this ring is as old as Nicola claimed. "Truly?"

"Yes."

"Honestly."

"Always."

Nicola reaches up and wipes away a stray tear, breaking Adamo out of his shock. His expression clears and he slides off the chair into Nicola's lap. Entwining his arms around Nicola's neck, he whispers "Well then, care to take this back to my place? It's closer than yours."

Nicola smiles before turning to nip at the spot just below Adamo's ear and responds "I thought you would never ask."

As they link arms to walk home, Adamo turns to Nicola and says "You know, this is the first time in a long time I haven't cursed my immortality."

Nicola smiles, leading Adamo out of the museum, "I look forward to an eternity together with you too."