a Lashton one-shot based on Call Me By Your Name. I used some dialogue and scene situations from the actual novel, but 99% is my own style. I have changed things to fit my language and make it more Lashton-y. Enjoy! I could never do this masterpiece any justice, but I have attempted to at least make a good fanfic.
PART 1 (I can't make a whole novel into a single one-shot)
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Luke didn't like the way Ashton simply said, "Later." It was that one word, and then he was gone. It gave Luke a stirring feeling in his gut, but if he closed his eyes and listened to the word fall from the lips of the older man, he could remember Italy. The cobblestone pathways that called his name and the freshwater he spent a lot of his time in seemed all too vivid to him.
He could remember Ashton's billowy blue shirt, opened collar, sunglasses, and tanned skin everywhere. Luke hated touristy travelers, particularly American travelers. Perhaps, that was why he hadn't given Ashton the time of day. He was awfully rude to the older man when he first arrived. The young student seemed friendly enough. The student spoke to Luke frequently, even admired his intelligence. He properly addressed Luke's father as "Doctor" and "Sir." Luke figured it was merely due to the fact that Ashton was his father's student. That was the whole reason he was here in Italy. He would spend the summer studying various subjects, bothering Luke to the core with his "American behavior."
It was a conflict, this. Maybe because Ashton was so sculpted. He had a firm chest and sharp cheekbones. His lips were always so pouty, though he smiled frequently. Sometimes, that smile would be a smug little smirk, and Luke felt his stomach swirl at the thought. Ashton enjoyed running and sunbathing, and it showed. He was glorious. And maybe, just maybe, that was the real reason Luke was not too fond of the older man.
Luke tried not to let Ashton get in the way of his summer activities. He enjoyed the heat and showing off his musical capabilities to his adoring family. Luke could not let some twenty-four-year-old barbaricly handsome man stand in the way of his favorite season, but at the same time, the thought of someone knew inticed Luke. Excited him.
Summer brought fresh apricots and honeyed, golden skin. The trees lined the Hemmings' driveway. The sight alone made Luke sprout a smile. These trees were his childhood. He grew up beneath their branches, eating the ripened fruit, or simply basking in the cool shade they provided his feverish skin.
Now that he was older, he could appreciate the lingering fertility that came with the summer. It was an overwhelming spell, bound to make any memory a vivid one. Luke was not sure what about Ashton left such a remarkable stamp on him. Ashton seemed to like Luke's company, but just as easily, they would separate. Their conversations would cease to exist.
It could have been the evening Luke was playing guitar out beneath an apricot tree. The melody was sad and haunting, representing the feeling the young boy had only begun feeling when Ashton's conversations were no longer present. Luke had made a goal to stay away from the student. To punish him.
Ashton seemed to notice Luke's foul mood. As he tried to make it better by asking him questions about his guitar. Luke stammered for words. He was too much on guard to answer correctly.
"Don't try to explain it. Just play it again."
But Luke thought Ashton hated it.
"Just play it, will you?"
"The same one?"
"The same one."
Luke walked into the house, leaving the doors and windows open so that Ashton could hear him play a melody on the piano. Only, he changed it to a much more happy tune. The sandy-haired man leaned against the doorframe with a skeptical look.
