(𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨) you've been to italy twice, one to milan and the other to portofino. never to rome. yet you got yourself a roman boyfriend, kinda ironic.

so here you are, your very first time in the italian capital, but it was different to any other tourist's first experience– your tour guide was extra especial and a local, nothing better. since you stepped out of the airport, he's taken you to nowhere but the best places, those ones that are filled by only local people since aren't as known as the touristic spots yet are hundred times better.

walking through the stone streets, holding hands with damiano, you think you're heading to dinner in a famous trattoria. bope. he turns down another alley, leads you to a tiny hole-in-the-wall pasta shop where a grumpy old man makes cacio e pepe like it’s a religion. you eat at a rickety table outside.

damiano wipes sauce off your lip with his thumb and smirks. "now you’re italian."

you stare at him, chuckling softly, letting him wipe your mouth. "i guess so..."