Work Text:
Ma il mio mistero è chiuso in me
Il nome mio nessun saprà.
No, no, sulla tua bocca lo dirò
Quando la luce splenderà.
Ed il mio bacio scioglierà
Il silenzio che ti fa mi[o]
But my secret is hidden within me,
My name no one shall know,
No... no...
On your mouth, I will tell it,
When the light shines.
And my kiss will dissolve the silence that makes you mine
A thousand realizations washed over me. But the one that lingered as dawn broke over the balcony and filtered into the French windows of Elio’s bedroom was, I’ll never be able to fall asleep next to him.
I could lie next to him. His skin possessed that soft, flawless texture that made contact with him an incontrovertible pleasure. And his hair. The fragrance of Elio’s thick curls made impossible dreams swim behind my eyes until thought became incoherence and I was reduced to staring at him in that way that always made him turn away. Praecoquum, pre-coquere , ripened, sweet man fruit. Precocious Elio, with his long, slender limbs and fingers who, before last night, had never gripped anything more unwieldy than a pen or, last night, my cock.
I hissed involuntarily, swallowing the sound lest I wake him. I could lie next to him, under him, on top of him - how I loved to be on top of him - but I wouldn’t be here long enough to learn to sleep next to him. I was too aware, my thirst far too unslaked to do something as banal as losing consciousness next to him.
There was the body, of course, with its coarse demands and animal needs and sleep, I suppose, was one of them. I could succumb, just close my eyes for a bit. It was conceivable.
But sleep - deep, profound, indifferent, while his existence pressed against mine - would elude me. Elio demanded my attention the way the strains of his guitar demanded to be heard and felt. Insisted that I open myself to his music and let it enter me. Respond and be wooed by it and become one with it. Elio and Oliver. Oliver and Elio.
I couldn’t deny Elio here, with me. He would wake soon and I’d have to reckon with this night, with his name still in my ear whispered, hesitant at first, then playfully, and finally with such ardor, I could have climbed up to the sky and plucked the moon down from it had he asked me with the same inflection. I would have to reckon with his obscenities, and the way he’d begged me you’ll kill me if you stop, you’ll kill me if you stop, over and over. I’d never erase the words from my memory.
There wouldn’t be enough time for me to learn to fall asleep next to him. Just please, let him not hate me for it. I’ll become stone and never sleep again. I could do this. But don’t let him hate me for any of it.