Fireflies {DAMIANO DAVID FANFICTION}

FIFTEEN

My hand draws lazy patterns on Damiano's shoulder as he hums a quiet tune. Every so often he reaches over to grab the notebook beside him, scribbling down a random word or two before closing his eyes and resuming the jingle just where he had left off. 

Sunlight breaches the white curtains, covering Damiano's tan skin in a peaceful shade of pale gold. He wears only boxers, hair a tousled mess. Each of us knows we can't lay in bed for hours as we have a flight to catch, but neither of us can gather the energy to move. In this corner of the world, all is calm. I don't want to disrupt that. 

Announcing my pregnancy was good on one account, but bad on another. The speculation has quieted down; not as many tabloid articles buzzing about since we've confirmed what was already known. But paparazzi hunt us down to an even greater extreme now. They never leave the camp set up outside our house. We have called the police but since they are technically not on our land but the city's, there is nothing we can do. We are hunted down and chased everywhere we go. With each appointment and lunch date, Damiano wraps a tight arm around my waist and tugs me along, reminding me to keep my head tilted down as to not look directly at the flash. While it is undoubtedly inconvenient, I think it is a small price to pay for loving Damiano David. 

I have not yet told Dami I love him. We have been together just about a month, and the feeling is absolutely there. I'm scared to tell him, though. I'm worried he will not feel the same way. One month is such a short amount of time to tell someone you love them. I don't want to scare him off. 

He groans beside me, eyes peeling open and being greeted by the sunlight. "We really do have to get going," he mutters. 

"I know," I sigh, not allowing my hands to cease their movements against his skin. He glances down at me, chuckles once, and moves to sit up.

"Come on, bella," he chuckles. "Let's go and greet the day."

Måneskin has an appearance in London this weekend, and despite my insistence that I'd be fine on my own, Damiano and the rest of his band demanded I go. "I'm not letting them do anything to you," he said last night, gesturing out our window to the hoard of paparazzi hounding us. "If I'm not here...I don't trust them, amore. Please. Just come with us."

Never one to turn down a challenge, I agreed. We packed into the early morning hours after I confirmed with my doctor that I was still okay to fly. "Right up until 36 weeks." Dr. Ferraro responded. "Go out and see it all,"

Damiano pulls on a pair of black skinny jeans and a button-up blouse: off-white with blue and red stripes. He runs a hand through his hair as he inspects himself in the mirror before nodding, a silent confirmation that he liked what he saw. 

I sneak up behind him, resting my arms around his waist and peeking my head out at his side. He groans at the feeling of my breasts against him, as I wear only a pair of underwear. "Bella," he sighs. "My love, I adore you, but we don't have time for this right now."

"I know." I hum, placing a kiss to his shoulder. I stalk off to get a change of clothes and hear him let out a deep sigh. After rifling through drawers, I dress myself in one of Dami's t-shirts, a black Ramones one, and a pair of baggy black sweatpants. He hums to himself as he walks over to me, placing his lips against mine. 

"You manage to look gorgeous every day of the week." he chuckles. "Come on, love, let's head out."

The ride to the airport is spent in comfortable silence. The driver keeps the radio off, and Damiano rests his hand on my thigh as he gazes out the window. I text Nessa from time to time, mainly just admiring the way Damiano responds to everything around him: from the dog he sees on the side of the road to the feel of my skin against his. He is like a little kid perceiving the world for the first time.