Elio woke up late the next morning. He hadn't fallen asleep too late, but he slept so deeply, so soundly that night. This feeling of safety he had with Oliver was something he'd never experienced before. He looked out the window behind him. The sun was rising and the birds were chirping. He turned his head to look at his favourite thing in the room. He was still asleep, but not deeply. Elio kissed his cheek. Nothing. Again. Nothing. A third time. A slight smile; Oliver stirred, then sighed, slowly opening his eyes but squinting at the light bursting in from outside. He rubbed his eyes, then focused them on Elio. The love of his life, laying next to him, like he would be every morning for the rest of eternity. "Call me by your name and I'll call you by mine" he whispered. Elio gasped softly. "Elio" he whispered back.
"Oliver" Oliver sighed, sending chills across Elio's cheeks with his cold and heavy breath. Elio propped himself up on his elbows, then flung himself onto Oliver. "Elio" he giggled, before leaning down, crashing his lips onto Oliver's. He chuckled, feeling Oliver smiling against his lips. Oliver laughed. He inhaled his laughter like a drug. The only good way to wake up in a morning is to a kiss from his one true love. Oliver bit Elio's lip, soft enough as to not hurt him, but hard enough to get him flustered. Elio pulled away. He was blushing intensely, but before Oliver could laugh at him, he put his hand to the side of his face, then moved up to play with his beautiful blonde hair, radiating a golden glow in the early morning sunlight. "I love you" Oliver started, " but I'd love you even more if you went and got us some drinks."
With that, Elio got up, pulled on his 'Oliver Shirt' and headed down to the hotel kitchen. Oliver got up behind him, shut the room door, then headed into the bathroom.
"2 orange juices, please."
Elio came back to the room. He carefully placed the glasses on the bedside then went back to shut the door. As he went to take a sip of his drink, he spotted Oliver's jacket on the floor. He picked it up and hung it on the bed frame. It was then he noticed a small notebook in the left pocket. He recognised this notebook immediately, Oliver had brought this book with him that summer. He assumed it was for work. Elio never entirely knew what his father did at work. He knew Oliver had done a lot of work with him that summer though. He carefully removed the notebook from the pocket and opened it. The front page was empty, but he could see writing on the other side. What makes your work seem so fun to you dad? Elio asked himself. He began reading the page.
After my time in Italy I've learnt a lot about the beauty of the world. The appeal of historical statues, the natural brilliance of the country. But the main thing I will take away from this trip- well, I'd take him anywhere. He's got this gorgeous, dark, curly hair that falls perfectly, even in the mornings after he's twisted and turned all night. His eyes; I could get lost in them so easily, yet at the same time feel so safe, with a new sense of security I find only with him. Watching the way his fingers dance around the piano, listening to the way words trail off in his angelic voice, both some of my favourite things to do here. Funnily enough, everything enjoyable here has something to do with him. Is this what falling in love feels like? Is he my destiny?
