Chapter Text
November,16th 1987
Oliver Christopher Evans knew himself.
He had always been interested in how one’s personality develops, whether it’s more a nature or a nurture thing and if knowing, if it‘s one or the other, had the potential of changing anything at all.
Thinking about thoughts, self reflection, as well as observing others were part of himself ever since he could remember. So it had been logical for him to explore his interests in philosophy and literature in order to make sense, not only of his own thoughts and feelings, but of the world at large.
Needless to say that neither of these intentions had come to fruition yet but studying ancient philosophers seemed to open up new doors in his inner realm nevertheless and he just enjoyed venturing further and further in hopes of putting everything together one day.
Thats why, whenever he knew something, without the shadow of a doubt, it gave him a sense of inner peace and self assurance, that he easily translated into a relaxed demeanor , a charismatic half smile and his poised way of carrying himself.
Four years after his trip to Italy, what he knew for sure was, that he would never get over Elio Perlman.
If he was being honest with himself, he knew that from the first time, he had touched him at midnight. Probably even before then.
Even though he usually didn’t allow himself to think about that time in his life, or about the boy who carried his heart; knowing that it was the truth, still gave him a sense of peace.
Because there weren’t any false expectations there, that could be crushed. After all, expectations were and always would be, the rude of all suffering.
Today was an exception though. Oliver would let himself indulge a little bit, like he did every year on Elio‘s Birthday…remembering, honoring and yes, suffering as a consequence but again, if he was being honest with himself, he even enjoyed the pain to a certain extend because it served as proof of his inner knowledge, that this had been IT for him and thus , would never truly get easier. The pain also reminded him, that it had been real and honest and innocent in its very core. Like Elio himself.
As Oliver sat on his chosen bench for the evening, looking down at his favorite litte water fountain at Central Park, he inhaled deeply as he put his freshly lit cigarette to his lips and with the other hand, got the postcard out of his teacher bag, that he had carefully placed in the front pocket. It usually had a well picked spot at his office, just on the opposite wall of his desk.
Today, just for a few minutes, he would allow his mind to wander and to go there again… to Elio‘s place..the Berm, where his, oh so courageous, Elio had almost completely shattered all the self restraint, Oliver had prided himself on having, up to that point.
He had to smile at the memory of that first and surprising lick of the lips and then that kiss… THAT KISS!…he knew he was lost right then and there but still determined to be good, which was at that point, mostly motivated by the all consuming fear he had felt, regarding his rapidly developing feelings for a 17 year old boy, that was the son of the man he stayed with and had come to respect and look up to…
But from the moment, he had let himself go a little bit, starting at midnight and then spiraling and spiraling in a whirlwind of passion, adoration, the most stimulating banter he had ever had with someone, insane chemistry on all levels… from that moment on, until one of the last moments in the streets of Rome, pressed against a wall, giving and receiving, all at once, the kiss of a lifetime, he had lived through the most intense and influential period of his adult life and could never go back fully, to the person he was before.
Elio, his Elio, with the face of an angel (although there was nothing angel like about the way he used his sinful lips, tongue, mouth on all of Oliver’s most intimate body parts), eyes and demeanor as playful and at times impish as a minx, Olivers minx that was, had turned everything upside down for him.
However, he tried not to dwell on the physical aspects of their relationship too much, when he allowed himself this time, to think about their summer, every year on Elio’s Birthday.
For once, because he felt, that would cheapen what they had, since it was so much more than lust. The lust (even though it had been ever present) had been only one of the ways, their connection in hearts and minds had translated itself to. Once given into it, Oliver had been utterly powerless to stop it, not that he had wanted to. But he was fairly sure, he couldn’t have, even if he did want to. The draw of Elio, had just been too strong.
He wasn’t proud of it but sometimes it still was. Especially if he had been drinking, and Micol was in the mood, their lovemaking would almost always entail a version of Oliver with his eyes closed and his mind deep imbedded in all things Elio.
Elio’s curls, Elio’s smile, Elio‘s mouth, Elio’s full lips (yes, he really liked his mouth, ok?), Elio’s ass, Elio’s perfect cock... But he wasn’t gonna go there now.
Again he smiled fondly as he imagined, sitting in the living room of the old villa , while Elio was playing Bach or Liszt on the piano, not even trying to hide his smugness, when he realized the effect that had on Oliver, the emotion in his face temporarily visible, not hidden behind that poker face of his.
They had the stars, the two of them together and he knew that was something, that was given to you only once.
In fact, he considered himself lucky, to be one of the few people, who got to experience something as powerful as that, in their lifetime.
Another reason why he valued the pain, that came with remembering.
He took another drag on his cigarette and without invitation, there came the images from his last Christmas time visit in Crema.
He hated that this happened almost every time, he let his thoughts wander to that summer. Inevitably, there would come the memories of the following winter and the shame and the hurt, these thoughts stirred in him, he didn’t hold as sacred. He bit his lip hard and by that physical sensation tried to pull himself out of the self hatred, these memories stirred . It didn’t help.
He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair, he really didn’t wanna think about that right now.
This was Elio’s day after all, not an opportunity for Oliver to indulge in some good old self loathing. He did that more than enough already.
Come to think of it, he felt kind of proud of himself, for letting Elio go. In his mind it had been one of the least selfish things he had ever done in his life.
The people that were closest to him now, Micol first of all, his siblings, his parents, even his best pal Danny, he felt like he was letting them all down in one way or another, mainly by compartmentalizing himself in a way that didn’t allow anybody to fully see him and get all of him.
He could never have put Elio through that. Elio, who had his whole life before him, who couldn’t possibly know for sure, what he wanted at 17, and that was exactly as it should be.
Elio could be anything he wanted to be. He had so much potential, was passionate, incredibly intelligent and gifted ..Oliver was sure, the world would be his oyster.
Especially if you paired all of his personality traits with these loving and financially as well as emotionaly supportive parents of his.
He himself could have only dreamed about having these kind of parents.
Oliver smiled again, because he truly only wished the best for Elio and from all he could fathom, chances stand great that he would have a wonderful life.
And in some way, that was enough for him, to be somewhat content himself.
He stood up from his chosen spot, grabbed his bag and threw the left over cigarette stem to the ground, where it met with the sole of his leather boot.
This would have to do for now. Back to reality and his New York Apartment on Amsterdam Ave, that he shared with his wife Micol and at the moment, with his friend Danny, who had to move out of his own flat hastily, due to a recent and quite dramatic break up.