elio perlman did not appreciate being woken up early. this was somewhat of a surprise, seeing as italian sunrises were beautiful, especially during the summer. fresh greenery, apricot groves, and the subtle chatter of family members created a tableau that many would pay thousands for-- he however, was slightly unwilling to rise and face the world that morning.

but alas, his mother's voice tended to stir him from the idyllic state of half-waking, and today seemed to be no different. "elio, come help our guest-- there are many bags."

people, foreigners mostly, tended to reside with the perlmans over the holiday; mr. perlman, elio's father, was an esteemed professor. any work done with him would look lovely on a work application or article of research. but it was typically one per year, this year being the somewhat magnetic american, oliver. so you came as a complete surprise to him.

it was quite clear, when he made his way downstairs and out to the gate where you were amicably greeting his father, that you were not native to that part of italy at all. frankly, he was under the impression you had never stepped foot on sunkissed italian soil before.

"ciao." elio murmured, his words punctuated by a barely stifled yawn that he attempted to conceal with a casual sweep of his hand. clad in a simple ensemble of shirt and shorts, his attire hung loosely upon his lithe frame. at a telling look from his father, he shrugged slightly in your direction, a tacit acknowledgement.

"follow me," he continued, seamlessly transitioning to english as he hoisted two of your bags from the pavement. with a gesture for you to fall into step behind him, elio set off towards the villa, leaving little room for you to catch up. "my father wants me to show you the guest room." this was going to be a long summer.