Call Me By Your Name 2.0

Chapter 1

Hi! My name is Elio and I'm Italian. I live with my dear parents in a big house in Italy, we have peach forests surrounding our garden so I grew up used to them and feel very comfortable around peaches. Its 1975 and I'm 17 this year. I like peaches, they're fluffy like a baby's head. My parents, who I'm VERY FUCKING CLOSE WITH, are professors and every summer they invite smart people over to our big house to help them write papers or something. We are jewish by the way so I'm circumcised. Okay, enough introduction, I'll start with the story of this summer. 

It was summer and, once again, my parents were waiting for this random person to come to our peaceful home and disturb my daily routine of masturbating for twelve hours straight. They called me down to introduce me to him. I slid down the stairs, not really feeling it, and there he was, standing between mummy and daddy on the entrance. 

"Oh hi there, my name is Oliver and I'm 30, I study biology and I have to write some papers to get my phD", the attractive old man said reaching to shake my hand. He wasn't wearing a shirt.

"Aren't you feeling a bit cold?", I said as I stared as his muscular hairy chest. It made me feel weird. He chuckled.

"I had to take it off because I got some peach juice all over it", I knew what he meant, which made me feel really uncumfortable. "A shower would be nice, can you show me where the bathroom is?".

I walked back upstairs, Oliver and my parents followed behind me as they talked about smart people stuff like politics and white blood cells, I didn't join on the conversation because I'm quite shy and awkward, also I don't know much about white blood cells because I'm more into music. My parents led Oliver to his room as I dragged myself into mine. 

"Later!", said Oliver. I had never heard anyone say that word but I couldn't be bothered to ask.

It's kind of weird that the only thing between my room and the room that these smart students use is only separated by the bathroom we are supposed to share, but oh well, my parents know what's best for me. If they think it's fine for their teenage son to share a bathroom with these old men then sure, I won't complain.