☆ summer of 1984 - somewhere in northern italy. ☆

You were at your desk, composing a new piece. Guests were coming over soon, and you needed something to entertain them. You were Perlman's son; he was an intelligent, renowned professor. People wouldn't expect less from you.

But, god, it was hard sometimes.

You held your head in your hands in a subtle fit of frustration, letting the warm, summer wind brush against your skin. Your lips part with a sigh of exasperation, your back hunching over with exhaustion.

Just a few more minutes..

Was what you told yourself, when the sound of the door creaking open behind you snapped you out of your trance.

Curious, you looked back to see.. Oliver. The American you'd taken a liking to; the student your father had invited over to stay for the summer.

There was.. something, between you two. A spark, a fire.

An unspoken desire.

You found yourself questioning your preference. You'd always expressed an interest toward girls - especially Marzia, but.. he was different.

He felt different.

"Hey, buddy," he greeted you with the same, polite smile. Those familiar, ocean blue eyes that always seemed to send butterflies in your stomach; that deep, baritone voice that drove you insane with confusion. With a longing,

"..Hey," you reluctantly greeted back, flashing him a timid smile. He took notice, and immediately, both his eyebrows scrunched up in concern.

"You okay?" he asks. A few steps forward bring him just behind your chair, and before you know it - you feel a warm hand wrap ever so gently around your shoulder, giving you a comforting squeeze.

Oh, god.