iii.
Victor has taken an eight hour flight and a four hour search as soon he’s in the city without once thinking Nathan might not have any memory of New Moore at all. The thought only comes up when Victor walks through the door. He planned out a naturally cool expression in the airplane bathroom mirror and something funny to say, but the thought that this Nathan who ran through a burning building, who looks an sounds the same way on the news footage might not be the person he knew on the island, that thought crashes into him all at once and Vic figures his entry looks more lost than smooth.

Nathan has his elbows on the counter, glancing up from a book disinterested for a second, then again, slower, and recognition is over his features, which is when Victor starts breathing again.

“Hey,” he says, laughing when the other man practically vaults over the counter. “Hey,” Victor repeats as Nathan rushes him, catching him by his shoulders and Victor feels like the TV in the background must’ve had some quasi-religious show on, because the last time he felt this way was from the unanswerable questions. His vision is narrowing into a pinpoint and all the sounds around them are thick and muffled, everything obscured except for Nathan who keeps squeezing his arms like he's not sure Victor's real. Like he dreaded the same lack of recognition.

Nathan pulls back from clapping him on the back, from touching him and Victor feels himself inch after the contact.

“It’s good to see you, guey,” Victor says.

Oh fuck, he thinks.