Lovely Jules {M/M}

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      1989, the year I’ve spent five memorable months in a small finishing town in Italy. It was recommended by my doctor to send me away to live at a seaside and luckily for me my parents could afford it.  1989 was the year I met him. I’ve never told this story to anyone, but even now so many years later it is still fresh in my mind. I think now the time has finally come to put down on paper the sequence of events that happened twenty years ago.

      I was nineteen and he was sixteen – a beautiful young Italian boy. I don’t think that being a man I’ve ever laid my eyes upon anything more beautiful than he was. Beautiful long wavy hair that h used to tie up in a bun so it doesn’t rub against his neck and back, big black eyes and long eye lashes. His skin was tanned and smooth and complexion seemed toned. When I asked him for his name he seemed reluctant to reply as I spoke to him in English. I got the hint so I took out my dictionary and started searching for words. Using broken Italian language I finally managed to ask him for his name. I think he found it amusing because he smiled widely revealing his white teeth. Even right now I still cannot find anyone who could compare to his beauty.

      His name was Julian. Julian Romano - a beautiful name for a beautiful person. He was the only son of the village’s most famous and successful for their rating fisherman. As I found out later his mother was Bulgarian and died when he was very young. Julian didn’t speak about her much and I’ve never pressured.

      Truth be told we didn’t speak much in general. My Italian wasn’t good enough and he was not a fan of speaking in English, even though he was really quite good at it and I never failed to tell him.

     Even though his name was filled with grace and nobleness, Julian was like a wild animal begging to be tamed. So I called him Jules. The face he grimaced the time when I told him made me laugh. I remembered how I patted him on the back. It was the physical contact between us; all previous times we’ve met he avoided it very well. Jules blushed so deeply that unwillingly I did as well. He looked at me with eyes wide open, yelled something in Italian that I didn’t understand that time, but now I can translate as ‘Stupid Johnny’ and ran away. I looked at his back that was quickly moving away from me until Jules reached the sea and jumped inside not bothering to take off his clothes.

      Jules loved the sea. He swam like a fish and sometimes he reminded me of an amphibian. I shared this thought with him once but I don’t think he understood me and for some reason that thought made me smile.

      The best way to walk the reader through the whole story is to take the events step by step. And this is what I am going to do; but please, dear reader, don’t be too strict with me after you find out all the aspect of this sad but beautiful story. At least I want to believe so.

                                                                      Johnny King