Corey Fogelmanis Imagines

15 || Call Me By Your Name Part 2

"Corey!" Shouted my father from downstairs. "Show Timotheé a nice place to get coffee please." I agree with delight and we ride bikes to the shop 5 blocks down the street and left a block. As soon as we turn the corner we reach my favorite spot.

"My father told me these cakes are made with love." I confessed. Timotheé looked at me in thought. "Do you believe that?"

"I believe anything done with enough care could be handled with love- and this my friend, is physical evidence." He took a slow bite and the low sound made from the base of his throat confirmed my thoughts. He tasted it- he love I mean.

"I've never quite met someone like you." Timotheé said while leaning back in his chair as if agreeing with himself on his statement.

"Likewise." I state simply in all sincerity.

I stand up abruptly, now that we're done, and walk for the door. He follows me despite my awkward ambition for scenery change. "I have a place I want to show you." I say quietly to the man behind me.

We walk for about 15 minutes in the cool summer dawn until a garden is reached. The beautiful English garden is tended to with perfection and a shadowed away from the outside world. In this moment, it is just me and Timotheé.

"This is beautiful Corey, but if his is your spot, why bring me of all people?" He asks slowly, Adam's apple moving with his vibrato.

"I think you know." I answer hoping, knowing he would understand.

He shakes his head.

"You can't say things like that Corey." His word cut through my heart.

"Why not? I have free will you know." I retort.

"Things will be hard." He says looking me in the eyes. Mine shy away and I can't bring myself to look straight at him. "I don't care, all I know is I like you. I don't need to define myself to other people, you, or even myself. Let's just exist together, okay?"

I feel the tips of my fingers shaking, as speaking out is something I normally don't do.

"Just us?" He asks. The question is simple but I understand the implications. I understand that what he really means is, "and you won't tell anyone right?" But for some reason I'm okay with that. I get he wants no backlash, or criticism. He just wants to exist with another human being who mutually cared for him.

So we do.

He leans into me, eyes transfixed onto my lips as I let mine flutter shut. Lips on lips, I'll never forget his scent of lavender and musk, how he holds my jaw delicately with one hand and grips onto my back with the other, or how he trusted me to take him to my special place without even asking what we were doing.

I felt the same love from that coffee shop embedded in our first kiss. Suddenly, in that moment, I truly believed I'd never get that feeling from another mouth. Despite my agnostic beliefs, I hoped to God that night, me and him on opposite sides of the bed and all, that he'd never send me to search for the coffee cake kiss again. His love is one I knew I'd be willing to fight for.