Archive of Our Own

After New York

 a sequel to

The Other Road

 Part 3 of the

Call Me By Your Name Trilogy

 Written by Aus Elysium

Based on the novel by

Andre Aciman

And film by

Luca Guadagnino

I claim no rights to the book, movie, actors, director etc. etc.

This is purely a work of love and adoration of Elio and Oliver, the world created by Aciman, brought to life by Guadagnino and portrayed by Timothee and Armie.

OPENING CREDITS

Credits play over the following scene.

INT. BERLIN PHILHARMONIE - BACKSTAGE - EVENING

A STAGEHAND , large headset over her ears with a mic attached, knocks of a dressing room door.   MAESTRO SASCHA BECKMANN, is printed in dark letters on a fancy gold plack next to the door.

She knocks on the door politely.  From behind, a curt “Ja?” comes. She opens the door.  SASCHA , early 40’s, is already collecting his things, checking the straightness of his white bow-tie in the large, well-lit mirror in his dressing room.  The STAGEHAND indicates they are ready for him.

SASCHA is incredibly handsome. One might even call him dashing. He’s the type who knows exactly how to use his looks and his position to his advantage and the STAGEHAND smiles at him sweetly, a bit starstruck, susceptible to his charms.  But that ego is exactly what every Maestro needs. A bit of arrogance. Some suave authority.

He wears custom tails, fitted and trim.  His dark hair with a hint of grey is styled back, elegant and timeless.  He chats amicably, in German, with the STAGE HAND as they work their way through the backstage hallways to stage right.

The backstage area adjacent to the stage is darkened but light spills through the doorway from the stage beyond.  Small black and white monitors line the walls. The concertmaster tunes the orchestra, a single A440 followed by the sounds of a nearly 100 person orchestra tuning: first unified on the single pitch before branching off.  

Silence settles again and the STAGEHAND gestures towards the door.  It is SASCHA’s cue.

Full of showmanship and bravura, SASCHA takes the stage, winding his way through the orchestra.  The audience applauds and the orchestra stands in respect for their dirigent .   

As SASCHA passes the piano, we see the back of a young man standing with his hands clasped behind his back.  Delicate wrists peek from tails sleeves, soft brown curls fall at the elegant nape of his neck.

ELIO PERLMAN, 26, turns and smiles in profile as SASCHA walks past.  Their eyes catch for the shortest moment and SASCHA nods, giving ELIO a bolstering look as he continues his way to the podium.

The orchestra settles back in their seats, instruments ready.  SASCHA collects their attention (and that of the audience) with his baton.  With a precise and energized upbeat, the piece begins.

INT. BERLIN PHILHARMONIE - STAGE - EVENING

MUSIC CUE: Petrushka - Stravinsky

 Cut to middle of the piece.  The piccolo trails away, two notes - playful, almost birdlike.  Then crashing in with thick chords in both hands ELIO takes over the piece from the piano.    

There is pure concentration on his face as he plays several bars alone. SASCHA continues his beat pattern up front, watching ELIO intently.  It’s the way any conductor might, but there is something else too. A desire for ELIO to succeed that goes beyond the professional.

ELIO winces, displeased by something he has done but it’s a minute mistake.  Something not even the musicians all around him take note of but as the orchestra comes back in, taking over the melody he just introduced, ELIO sits back, clearly unhappy with how he played.

INT. BERLIN PHILHARMONIE - BACKSTAGE - EVENING

There is an upbeat tone to the musicians and staff backstage.  Clearly, it was a solid performance. A job well-done.

ELIO walks backstage towards the musicians exit.  His white bow tie hangs undone around his neck, the top few buttons of his tux shirt are open at the collar.  He slings a well-worn and familiar shoulder bag over his body.

He graciously accepts the “Herzlichen gluckwunsch,” and “Bravo, Elio,” that are tossed his way by fellow musicians as he walks past.  The piano part of Petrushka, perhaps the most challenging in all the orchestral piano repertoire, is no small feat and his colleagues are glad to celebrate his success, even if he feels unsatisfied.

As ELIO passes SASCHA’s dressing room, the Maestro takes note.  He quickly excuses himself from some important, donor-looking types that hover at his doorway.

SASCHA

Elio, ein moment?

ELIO smiles politely as the concert-goers move past him, tittering a bit as he slips into the dressing room.  He closes the door behind him.

SASCHA’s tails and tie are gone, replaced by a soft cardigan on over his ruffled tux shirt.  His hair is finger tousled, having lost its glossy edge. He looks gentler, more human, than before, especially when he looks at ELIO.  

It should come as no surprise when SASCHA leans in, kissing ELIO with a familiarity of long time lovers.

SASCHA begins packing away his scores, tidying his space.  ELIO watches, propped against the wall.

SASCHA

You’re in a mood.

ELIO remains silent, biting at his nails.  

SASCHA

All the higher ups are very pleased with how things went tonight.  Are you really so unhappy with how you played?

ELIO

There was that one spot.  

SASCHA

Which only I noticed.  And that is because I only ever listen for you.

SASCHA gives him an indulgent grin over his shoulder and ELIO rolls his eyes, a bit placated by SASCHA’s flirting.  

ELIO

I’m just glad we get another stab at it tomorrow, I guess.

SASCHA stops and turns towards ELIO.  He places his hands on either side of ELIO’s face.  ELIO looks up at the older man as if seeking guidance, a bit of tenderness perhaps.  Some understanding. Whatever it is is, it’s something that he’s always wanted but never gotten before from this man.

SASCHA

My Elio.  Perpetually discontent with life.

ELIO pushes SASCHA’s hands away.  This is not what he was hoping for.  Not from his Maestro or his boyfriend.

ELIO

I’m not discontent...I just have high expectations, that’s all.

SASCHA

Which is why you’ll never be totally happy with what you have.

Something about this statements touches them both on a deeper level.  Illuminating, in an idle comment, an inner dischord in their relationship.  SASCHA steps away, trying to brush the moment aside with his next question.

SASCHA

Shall we go for a drink?

ELIO considers.  A drink is never just a drink with SASCHA.

ELIO

Not tonight.  

SASCHA

I’ll see you at home then?

ELIO

I was actually thinking I might go stay at my place.  It’s been a while.

He trails off before offering any further explanation.  For the first time, a valid hint of concern over ELIO’s disposition flashes across SASCHA’s face.

SASCHA

(tentative)

If you’re sure.

ELIO

Yeah, I’m sorry.  I’m just...

He gestures at himself - his head, his soul, who knows that is to blame for this funk.

ELIO

I’ll call in the morning, yeah?  We can meet for breakfast.

SASCHA nods, watching with delicate concern as ELIO slings his bag back over his shoulder.  He kisses SASCHA quickly on the cheek. “Nacht. Schlaf gut,” ELIO says, just before reaching the door.

SASCHA stops him with a touch to his elbow.  He settles his hands on ELIO’s waist and pulls him in for another kiss.  It’s more intent this time, prolonged. As if this kiss is meant to prove something which it doesn’t quite.

SASCHA

Ich liebe dich.

ELIO

(with a heaviness that

Such a profession should lack)

Ich dich auch.

EXT. BERLIN CITY STREETS - NIGHT

MUSIC CUE: U2 - Who’s Going to Ride Your Wild Horses

ELIO rides in the back of a taxi.  Around him, Berlin is alive. Nightlife, traffic, noise.  Much as he had been in New York, he is at home in this city.  Fluent in the language and the lay out. The Berlin wall, separating East from West, is several years gone by now, the country reunified but there is still a sense of the city being amidst the throes of history.        

The car drives by Brandenburg Bridge into the former Eastern part of the city.  ELIO is home.

INT. ELIO’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

His apartment is small, but elegant in the Altbau style with narrow rooms but ridiculously fresh, white walls and clean European style furniture.  

A tabby cat comes to greet him, curling around his feet.  ELIO scratches him behind the ears, greeting him sweetly.

INT. ELIO’S APARTMENT - LATE NIGHT

ELIO’s sleeps soundly in the blue silence of his bedroom, his cat curned next to him by his hip.

The cat jumps away at the sound of a shrill phone ring and ELIO startles awake.  He reaches for the phone by his bed, pulling the cordless handset next to his ear, burying himself back under his federdecke.  Perhaps it is just SASCHA calling, drunk and bored.

ELIO

(groggy, then immediately alert)

Perlman.  Mom?

He sits, pushing his sheets away, with a sudden dread in his heart and on his face.  There is only one reason his mother would call him this deep in the night.

We can only hear the outline of ANNELLA PERLMAN’S words. The hysterterical volume to her voice.

ELIO (CONT’D)

No, shh, mama.  Slow down.

(then in French) Attend, attend.  

ELIO’S face crumples, falling into his hand.

ELIO

What?  Non, maman, non...

INT. ELIO’S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - NIGHT

ELIO sits on the edge of his bed, his breath unsteady.  In the darkness of his room, we can see the tears glint off his wide, disbelieving eyes.

This is the worst possible news.

His father is dead.  Heart attack just hours ago.  While he’d sat on stage in the concert hall, his father’s life had simply stopped.  He’s never felt so useless and alone as he does in this very moment.

He looks at the phone, still held loosely in his hands.   

His breath begins to catch faster and harder as the emotions overtake him, the reality of the moment finally sinking in.

He should call someone, he knows that much at least.

He looks at the clock.  It’s past 3am. Even SASCHA feels unreachable at this hour.

Trembling, he begins to dial a number.

EXT. SUBURBAN BOSTON - NIGHT

A soft spring rain falls on a modest New England suburb.  The rain reflects off the street lamps and the Boston skyline visible just over the crest of a the hill.

Warm light fills the windows of a cedar shingle house save for the two front rooms upstairs which are dark with sleep.  There is a single car parked in the driveway, a kids tricycle thrown haphazardly on the grass.

A woman moves through the house inside, bending down to pick things up and collecting them in her arms.  The TV in the background plays an episode of “Doctor Quinn: Medicine Woman”.

She clutches a handful of toy trucks and squishy nerf footballs as a phone rings on the wall of the kitchen and she hurries around the corner to answer, trying to cut off the sound as quickly as possible so as to not wake the sleeping owners of said toys. The woman, CINDY, early 30’s, is in casual, time to wind-down for the day clothes.  Loose elastic waist pants and a sweatshirt. Her auburn hair is thrown carelessly in a high ponytail, making her look younger than she actually is. She answers the with an easy “Hello?”

INT. SUBURBAN HOME - NIGHT

MUSIC CUE: BACH - Goldberg Variations, Aria

The soft scratch of a pencil on paper accompanies the delicate strains of Bach’s Goldberg Variations in a home office.  At a desk, we watch words form on a college ruled page as a man writes, slowly, almost to the tempo of the movement. They are notes for a lecture on Plato’s Republic.

Over the corner of the notebook, near a dark Microsoft computer screen, is a framed postcard of the Gulf of Spezia.

There is a knock on the door, but it’s only a courtesy. CINDY opens the door right away.

CINDY

Phone’s for you.

OLIVER, 33, sits back in his office chair.  He takes off a pair of reading glasses and looks at his wife.

CINDY

It’s Elio.

She watches OLIVER pick up the phone, the lingering glance of one who is perpetually in the dark about a situation.  She closes the door behind her slowly, as if hoping to catch a snippet of their conversation.

OLIVER

(in a way that suggests phone calls from ELIO are not totally unheard of, though still a special treat)

Elio, hey.  What time is it there?

The pleasant look on OLIVER’s face dissolves as he listens to ELIO’s muted voice on the other end of the line.  

OLIVER (CONT’D)

(voice breaking)

Oh...God.  When?

INT. SYNAGOGUE, YONKERS, NY - DAY

Mourners gather for a memorial service. The space is modern.  The afternoon sun shines through colored glass in a windowed wall.

The people are mostly older, folks from the neighborhood.  Names ELIO may have heard of, but faces he does not know.

This is why he sits especially close to his mother, almost clinging to her calm elegance in hopes it will rub off on him.  But the truth is, he’s struggling to keep things together. It’s not the grief that has him uneasy, persey, just an eagerness for this whole experience to be over with sooner rather than later.    

They sit in the front row with an elderly woman, who we will later discover is GRANDMOTHER PERLMAN. ANNELLA, dressed all in black, tends to her late husband’s mother.

Behind him are a cadre of friends who have made the trip from the city in support.  This includes a much healthier, though still thin around the edges, JOSH WINTER, 26.  He’s dressed as modestly as he can muster, which still includes a vibrantly colored cravate and is miles more flamboyant than ELIO’s simple black suit and long black tie.  

Knowing the service will start soon, ELIO turns to look for any late arrivals just as OLIVER enters through the back door.

They exchange a look, filled with sadness and empathy, yes, but also gladness.  Relief. It says more than any words possibly could.

INT. - PRIVATE HOME, YONKERS, NY - AFTERNOON

OLIVER stands away from the rest of the Shiva guests who have gathered in ELIO’s grandmother’s home.  It is a small place, very grandmotherly, full of doilies, bowls of potpourri and ceramic figurines but warm and inviting too.  He drinks coffee from a small cup, the handle looking overly delicate in his large hands.

JOSH

When do you head back to Boston?

OLIVER

Tomorrow.

A well-manicured eyebrow arches in OLIVER’S direction. OLIVER smiles, gleaning JOSH’S insinuation.

OLIVER (CONT’D)

I’m staying in Westchester. Old Harvard buddy.

JOSH hums, unconvinced.

They both watch as ELIO brings his grandmother a plate of food.  He kneels down, letting her pat his face, squeeze his cheek. ANNELLA, duty bound, sits with her on the couch, gently amused to see her grown son submitting himself to this kind attention.

JOSH

He’s really happy you’re here.  Even if the scenario is complete shit.

OLIVER snickers, covering it up with a hand before quickly and smoothing his expression.

OLIVER

I wouldn’t have missed this. Sammy was...

(the tense throws him)

Was a great man.  And a good friend.

ELIO shoots them both a desperate look as his Grandmother continues to fawn over him.

JOSH

Time to play the charming homosexual.  Grandmothers love me.

He gestures dramatically to his chest, an actor about to take the stage, before stepping into a quick hug with OLIVER.  He kisses him quickly on the cheek, shameless.

JOSH

(against OLIVER’S ear)

Don’t be a stranger.

Once JOSH takes over with ELIO’s grandmother, enchanting and overly sweet, ELIO kisses his mother’s cheek and excuses himself.

He looks so very weary as he walks over to OLIVER.

ELIO

Hey.

Without another word, they embrace, long, stepping fully in each other’s arms.  It’s an act of grief but also a different, more ancient emotion as OLIVER tucks his head, pressing his cheek to the top of ELIO’s curls.  ELIO visibly relaxes, the tension in his shoulders melting into OLIVER’S sturdy frame.

After longer than is perhaps appropriate for two men, ELIO steps away, looking around to see if the nature of their greeting has raised any eyebrows.  They’re safe. OLIVER slips his hands into his pockets.

ELIO 

I wasn’t sure you’d make it.

OLIVER

I found someone to cover my exam this morning.  My chair isn’t thrilled, but as long as I’m back for the faculty meeting tomorrow afternoon, he can’t really complain too much.

ELIO moves to stand next to OLIVER, leaning against the same length of wall.  JOSH is in his element; ELIO’s Grandmother totally captivated by his storytelling.  It is such a relief to see him in good health.

OLIVER

I’m glad you did this, by the way, a state-side memorial.

ELIO

Oh, this was all mom. Dad wanted to get cremated, which some people...

(he nods pointedly at his grandmother)

were really not ok with.  This was the compromise.

He takes a deep breath.

ELIO (CONT’D)

Sitting shiva, nearly a month after the fact, in Yonkers, New York surrounded by family and friends from my dad’s childhood I’ve never met or even heard of.  Yeah, great.

ELIO looks over at his mother now talking to some other relative ELIO has zero context for.  He missed out on so much, an entire half of his family, an entire culture, by being raised overseas.

OLIVER

It’s the right thing to do, though.

ELIO

(quickly, then with an unexpected rawness)

I know. It just...it keeps prolonging things.

 A silence falls between them.  OLIVER knows he should fill the space with platitudes like “It was a lovely service,” or “How is your mother doing?” but they are past that kind of pre-programmed chit-chat.  Luckily, ELIO saves him. Interjecting something much more direct, much more them .

ELIO

You want to get out of here?  I’m part German now and need beer to get through moments like this.

OLIVER laughs softly, good-natured and fond.

OLIVER

Just let me say bye to your mom.

INT. LOCAL BAR, YONKERS - EARLY EVENING

ELIO drinks something much stronger than beer, shooting back several shots of a light brown liquid in short order.

They pair of them look rather out of place in their formal wear amongst the glowing Bud Light ads with pictures of Spuds Mackenzie on them and New York Giants pennants.  But the regulars, there for some afternoon drinking, leave them alone at the bar.

ELIO orders two more shots.

ELIO

(pointing at OLIVER’s only half empty glass)

He’ll take another too.

OLIVER attempts to deny the order, but accepts the freshly poured pint when it comes.

OLIVER

I thought I might ask one of those cliche questions, like “How are you holding up?” but the answers pretty evident.  So how about another cliche like, “Drinking won’t solve anything.”

ELIO pauses with the next shot halfway to his mouth.  He sets the glass back down at OLIVER’s words.

ELIO

Sorry.  It’s just a lot right now.  

OLIVER

(completely sympathetic)

I know.

ELIO

I just feel like my mom is handling it way better than me, which feels completely backwards.

OLIVER

Look, losing a parent...that’s a unique kind of grief.  You’re entitled to feel it, however than manifests. Trust me.  

ELIO

How long’s it been for you again?

OLIVER

Two and a half, nearly three years?  Though, I wouldn’t exactly call what I felt ‘grief’ when my dad passed on from this mortal plane. More like...retribution.

He lifts his glass in mock salute, a hardened smile on his lips.

ELIO

(delicate)

I don’t know if I should envy you that or not.

OLIVER

No, you definitely shouldn’t. Your dad was a better father figure to me these past years than my old man ever was.  You are the luckiest kid in the world, Elio. At least in the parent department.  

They both turn somber, thoughts turning inward.  OLIVER thinks of the destructive relationship with his own father.  ELIO pondering that he’ll never again have the chance to speak with his own, the man who was always available to ELIO’s shifting moods.  

ELIO

It’s still just totally surreal.

OLIVER

I’d spoken to him earlier in the week.  It was just a quick chat - something about a publisher he’d worked with and I was considering.   You just never know, I guess.

But ELIO has stopped listening.

ELIO

You talked to him the week he died?

OLIVER nods.

ELIO (CONT’D)

(beginning to break down, filled with a renewed regret)

I didn’t.   Fuck .

OLIVER is quick to comfort him, rubbing his back as ELIO buries his face in his elbows atop the bar.  

He signals to the bartender for another round of drinks.

EXT. YONKERS STREET - EVENING

MUSIC CUE: RESPIGHI - Pines of Rome III. - I pini del Gianicolo

ELIO and OLIVER stroll down the street.  The night is young, pleasant, and they are comfortably inebriated. They walk close, staggering against each other occasionally on the narrow suburban sidewalks.  It’s all very amiable.

ELIO

So we’ve finally reached that point where a drink really is just a drink, huh?

OLIVER

Guess so.  

ELIO

Look at us, all well adjusted.

OLIVER

Respecting boundaries.

(good natured)

Unless, are you offering?

ELIO

(in a way that makes it obvious he’s really not)

Sure.  

Then leaning on OLIVER in an overly dramatic, pronounced way that is still secretive and acceptable for public consumption:

ELIO

Take me, Oliver.

They both laugh, though the undercurrent of “what if” and “we could”  and “would it still be like we remember” shivers uncomfortably between them.

ELIO (CONT’D)

Can’t tell you the number of times I laid in my bed that first summer and thought about forcing my way into room to say just that.

OLIVER

Why didn’t you? Could have saved us a lot of confusion.

A lot of wasted days, too.

ELIO

You serious?  You could barely bring yourself

to look at me the first month.

OLIVER

Nah, I wanted you from the beginning, I just hid it better.

They speak like two people who are still very close, with a joint fondness for their past.  There is an ease to it as well, a lack of bitterness. As if through the distance of time - this shift in their relationship, their continued contact across continents - they can find an openness they haven’t had before.  It buoys both their spirits to have such a friend in their lives.

OLIVER (CONT’D)

Besides, even if you were offering, I’m afraid I’d have to turn you down.

ELIO

Not into pity fucks, huh?

OLIVER laughs sharply.

OLIVER

That, yes.  And Cindy and I are trying right now.

ELIO

(eyes wide)

For another kid?

OLIVER

No! No, just to not... fucking fall apart.  Turns out the statute of limitations for sleeping with someone else while you’re away on conference in New York is pretty long.

ELIO (wincing)

Let me guess, about 4 years?

OLIVER

At least.  Probably longer.  Maybe forever.

ELIO

I still can’t believe you told her.

OLIVER

It’s not like I went into details , but like I said, we’re trying.

There is something resolute but also fruitless in the way he says that.  Like for all their efforts, he already know they are destined to fail. Some things cannot be forgiven.  Especially when OLIVER doesn’t regret them one bit.

Changing tack, OLIVER looks over at ELIO.

OLIVER

Too bad Sascha couldn’t be here.

ELIO groans.  A “don’t-start” kind of eye roll that takes over his whole body.

ELIO

He has rehearsals for Seigfried this week.

OLIVER

His partner’s father dies and he can’t miss rehearsals to attend his memorial service?

ELIO

(like OLIVER couldn’t possibly understand)

It’s his first time with the Staatsoper.  It’s a big deal.

OLIVER

(clipped)

Clearly.

ELIO stops walking, now legitimately annoyed.  OLIVER notices and turns back.

ELIO

Look, we’re both where we are.  I thought we had agreed to be ok with that?

There is silence for a moment, filled with the memory of past, probably very difficult, discussions.

Finally OLIVER concedes.

OLIVER

We did.  Doesn’t mean I’m not going to point out when I think you’re being treated badly.

ELIO

(calming, in no mood to fight)

I’m not, ok?  

OLIVER gives him one of those “I know you, Elio.  This is me you’re talking to here.” looks and ELIO looks away frustrated by being such an open book to him.

ELIO

Anyone who claims their love life is perfect is lying.

Then, as if to bring them back to the easy camaraderie of before, ELIO playfully tugs at OLIVER’S shirt cuff, shoving him with his shoulder.

ELIO

Besides, who needs him when I’ve got you here, eh?

It’s perhaps too revealing - crossing a line that they’re pretending no longer exists - but neither seem to them mind much if it does.  They’re both drunk on tequila, cheap beer and their proximity, after all.

OLIVER slings his arm over ELIO’s narrow shoulders; almost fraternal.

OLIVER

You have time to meet for breakfast

tomorrow morning before I head back?

ELIO

I could, yeah.

They walk down the street, together, easy companions.

INT. BERLIN PHILHARMONIE - STAGE - Day

MUSIC CUE continues from previous scene

As the street scene of New York fades, SASCHA’S orchestra takes over the piece in rehearsal.  He conducts broad beats, his shirt sleeves rolled up and his score open across his stand.

The music is beautiful, lush harmonies and epic, until SASCHA halts his beat pattern and the orchestra comes to a halt.  He hits the stand with a frustraed rap of his baton.

SASCHA

Klavier! Das war spaet.

(That was late.)

From the back of the orchestra ELIO agonizes at his mistake. He and SASCHA share a look, during which ELIO puts up placating hands, pleading for a bit of understanding, not from his conductor but the man who claims to love him.

He relents, speaking next in a more gentle tone.

SASCHA

Noch einmal.  Von Probennummer acht, bitte.

INT - SASCHA’S APARTMENT - NIGHT

SASCHA’S home is a brilliantly modern loft space: all whites and cool greys, cement and steel, oversized light fixtures that, when ELIO flicks them on, do little to actually brighten the room.

ELIO immediately goes to SACHA’S fridge and pulls out a bottle of white wine.  

ELIO

Don’t.

SASCHA

(innocent)

I have said nothing.

ELIO

But you’re thinking it.  I can feel your disappointment rolling off you in waves.  It’s not helping.

ELIO grabs a wine glass from a nearby cabinet, filling it tall.

SASCHA

(patient)

I think this is all in your head, my love.  

ELIO scoffs, taking a long drink.

SASCHA

You’ve played that solo a thousand times, beautifully.  And you will at the concert tomorrow, I have no doubt.  

SASCHA reaches for him, hesitant. Even with the careful approach, ELIO flinches away.

SASCHA (CONT’D)

Just tell me where you were today, Elio?  Because it was most certainly not in my rehearsal.

 ELIO

How could I be? When...

(he trails off, then as if deciding in that very moment)

I have to go home, Sash. To Crema.

SASCHA pauses before steeling his expression again as if already knowing this trip will be the final act of their dissolution.  

SASCHA

When?

EXT. OLIVER’S HOME - FRONT YARD - DAY

Spring has turned a corner in New England from its early tentative buds and cool mornings to full on bloom.  OLIVER mows his lawn, the pitchless buzz a harbinger of summer. His two boys play nearby, rowdy and young. OLIVER wears a raggedy old Columbia shirt.  There is sweat on his brow above his dark sunglasses.

He yells to his sons: “Stay in the front where I can see you!” as he stops the mower, fetching the mail from the mailbox as the postman drives by.

He goes through the mail, stopping when one of the letters in a large brown envelope bears Italian postage.

Tucking the other letters under his arm, he rips this one open quickly.  Pulling out a stack of formal looking papers.

“From the estate of Samuel Perlman,” it begins.

OLIVER nearly cannot believe it as he reads.

MONTAGE -VARIOUS

Outside Logan airport in Boston, OLIVER says goodbye to CINDY.  It is not a fond farewell. Almost forced. A tepid hug, laced with bitterness and resentment. OLIVER carries those feelings throughout the airport.  Every noise and interaction of the busy terminal, is an annoyance.  It is only as he gets onto the plane that his mood begins to shift.

We hear a conversation in voice over as the plane begins to taxi.  

OLIVER (VO)

It’s too much Annella.

ANNELLA (VO)

And yet, it’s exactly what he wanted for you to have.  You were always his favorite.  The fact that you remained so close since meant a great deal to him.  

OLIVER (VO)

For me as well but...all his papers?  His entire library? His manuscripts ?

He sighs, audibly overwhelmed.

ANNELLA (VO)

I know it’s a lot.  To be completely honest, I don’t have it into me to go through it myself. I can only imagine what that man has squirreled away in all those drawers and shelves of his, perhaps even things he did not wish for me to see, which is why he left them to you. I’ve hired movers to pack up everything in his office here and bring it to Crema this summer.  You’d be doing me a favor while honoring his wishes as well if you came.

OLIVER (VO)

I wouldn’t want to be in the way.  

ANNELLA (VO)

You know you’ve always been welcome here.

OLIVER (VO)

I’ll have to talk to Cindy.

ANNELLA (VO)

Please do.  You’ll be our first repeat summer guest.

There is such affection in her voice, as if it is already a foregone conclusion. Then, after a beat:

OLIVER (VO)

Will Elio be there?

EXT. ITALIAN COUNTRYSIDE - DAY

MUSIC CUE: The Cure - High

A cab makes its way through the Italian countryside. In the backseat, with the windows rolled down, OLIVER sits, a blissfully contented look on his face.  The wind catches his hair. We can almost smell the tall grass growing along the side of the paved road.

The tiny car pulls into the driveway of the Perlman Villa.  

ELIO is waiting this time.  His cat curls around his legs, tail high and purring.  A small smile plays across ELIO’S lips. OLIVER gets out of the car as the cab driver helps ANCHISE, the frizzled old groundskeeper/gardner/repairman, with his things.

ELIO

You again.

OLIVER smiles broadly, loving ELIO’s jibe.  They hug, a one armed thing, quick step in and out.  No need for excessive displays now.

ELIO

Old room?

OLIVER

Old room.

ELIO takes his briefcase from his hand and begins heading into the house.

ELIO

Old room it is.

INT PERLMAN VILLA - OLIVER’S BEDROOM - LATER THE SAME DAY

OLIVER unpacks.  Toiletries into the bathroom.  Shirts on to hangers. He’s freshly showered, in a change of clothes.  From the rumpled sheets, he’s probably had a nap too.

He can hear ELIO practicing downstairs - excerpts from Saint-Saens Symphony no. 3, mvt. - starting and restarting phrases, slowing down as needed.

OLIVER smiles.

INT - PERLMAN VILLA - OFFICE - EARLY EVENING

OLIVER enters Mr. Perlman’s old office.  The old space brings a wry lift to the corner of his mouth.  The only real difference is the computer that takes up most of the desk now, black floppy discs painfully unorganized.

The entirety of Mr. Perlman’s things are packed in boxes, file folders stacked everywhere, carousels of slides, piles of books.  OLIVER rubs his faces with his palms and sighs heavily as the realization of just what a massive job this is going to be sinks in.

He grabs a box at random and begins his work.

EXT - PERLMAN VILLA - THE SAME DAY - NIGHT

ELIO and OLIVER sit a the table in the arboretum under a linden tree as ANNELLA watches on from a distance. Dinner is over, their wine glasses filled tall.  The two men speak of nothing important, an undercurrent of conversation, making each other laugh occasionally.

She smokes a cigarette, idly petting ELIO’s cat who sits on an empty chair and thinks of Sammy.  He would have loved this moment, both for their son and for the young man who he’d grown to love as a son.  

She blinks back tears, not wanting her emotions to distract from ELIO and OLIVER’s reunion.

INT - PERLMAN VILLA - THE SAME DAY - NIGHT

ANNELLA helps MAFALDA, the aging cook, finish tidying up after their late Italian dinner.  ELIO comes in, a half finished glass of wine lose in his hands. He watches these women, fixtures in his life since birth as they chat sweetly in Italian with each other.  He drops the glass into the sink turning the faucet on so he can wash it, before MAFALDA immediately shoos him away. She’d only end up doing it again herself anyway, she explains in Italian.   

ELIO kisses her quickly as she soaps up a sponge.  He then hugs his mother soundly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.  They bid each other goodnight in French.

ELIO goes up the familiar steps to his room, two at a time.  As he arrives on the top landing, he sees OLIVER out on the balcony.  Their balcony.

He is a statuesque silhouette against the night sky.  ELIO pauses, flush with memories of a different year. A different midnight.

ELIO knocks his fingers soundly on the glass pane of the door to signal his presence.

OLIVER looks over his shoulder, wiping at his cheek with the back of his forefinger.

ELIO

You ok?

He’s clearly not.

OLIVER

Yeah, I just...I forgot how much I love it here.

They are silent.  Nothing around them but the wind in the trees.  The song of the cicadas. The ease of the other’s company.

ELIO

(almost baffled by his realization)

I think I did too.

INT - PERLMAN VILLA - HALLWAY THE FOLLOWING DAY, MORNING

OLIVER sits in the hallway by the telephone.  The long table that stretches next to him has a bouquet of yellow flowers in a tall vase.  It’s an updated phone, one of those with so many buttons no one really has any idea what they all do.  He rests his head on tented fingers, every part of his body language exuding frustration.

OLIVER (CONT’D)

It’s more than I expected.  I might need longer than a few weeks to get through it all.  

ELIO walks past wearing a bathing suit and tee-shirt, tossing an orange in his hand.  He’s clearly just come in from having a swim. It lands with a heavy smack in his palm.  He has a towel slung over one shoulder and some sunscreen in the other hand.

OLIVER

You know how important this is to me, Cind.  Yeah, I’ll keep you posted.

He sits back, catching ELIO’s eye and gesturing at the phone with an eye roll, like “Can you believe this?” as his wife continues to berate him on the other end of the line.

OLIVER (CONT’D)

(voice rising, after she says something else)

Well, then I’ll change the ticket.

ELIO leans against the nearby doorway, crossing his arms across his chest, inviting himself to listen to their conversation.  He’s pleased when this makes OLIVER just a bit uncomfortable.

OLIVER

Look, I’ll call again soon to talk to the boys, ok?  

(He turns towards ELIO, erasing any of his supposed advantage with the look on his face)

Yes, I will be sure to give Elio your best.

ELIO’s eyes go wide.  He touches his chest with his fingertips and mouths “Me?”

OLIVER

Yep, ok…

(he averts his eyes as she must say ‘I love you’ or something of that ilk)

You too.  Bye.

OLIVER takes his time hanging up the phone while ELIO watches on.

ELIO

She has no idea about me does she?

OLIVER looks to him, encouraging him to consider the absurdity of what ELIO has just said.

OLIVER

She’s furious enough as it is that I came here.  Telling her my 17 year old lover, who also just happens to by the guy, yes dear, guy , I slept with in New York that time would have just added lighter fluid to the fire.

ELIO tosses his orange up in the air, higher this time, as he considers all the ways he could respond to that statement.  It lands with another satisfying smack.

ELIO

I’m not 17 anymore.

As he walks off, OLIVER leans forward, watching him go for as long as he can.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - OFFICE - DAY

OLIVER begins the arduous task of sorting through Samuel’s things.  He’s started with books, making stacks. Sorting by subject or author; duplicates getting their own piles.  

ANNELLA comes in with a cappuccino for him.  They both survey the minimal progress OLIVER has made.  She rubs his back before leaving him to it, encouraging, grateful and sweet.

With a smile and a sip of his coffee, OLIVER beings working again.

EXT. PERLMAN VILLA - PATIO - LUNCH TIME

ANNELLA’S friends ISAAC and MOUNIR, the gay couple from Chicago, have come for a visit. Their visit has a very different tone than the last time we’ve seen the pair of them, even down to the clothing they’ve chosen to wear.  They, along with ELIO and ANNELLA, sit around the lunch table, a bit somber, sharing memories of Samuel. ELIO is finding this trip down memory lane a difficult one, and only listens half heartedly, picking at his food.

From the house, OLIVER and ANCHISE emerge, each carrying several filled trash bags.  “Lasciami,” ANCHISE says, already hefting the bags, his aging bones still up for any task, even as OLIVER asks, in English if he’s sure.  “Si, si,” ANCHISE insists. “Grazie,” OLIVER says.

As ANCHISE wanders away, ELIO catches OLIVER stretch, cracking his back with his hands on his waist.  Their eyes meet and he waves casually.

Through a series of hand signals and looks, ELIO encourages OLIVER to join them for lunch.   Is he sure? OLIVER seems of ask.   Of course , ELIO nods.  

As OLIVER makes his way over, ELIO stands, pulling a chair out for him.  ELIO provides introductions. “I’m sure you got to meet him the first time he was here.  He’s here to go through my father’s things. Oliver is in the classics department at Tufts.”

MOUNIR and ISAAC immediately take a shine to this young professor and ELIO sits back, pleased to have brought OLIVER into the fold.

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - ROAD - LATE AFTERNOON INTO EVENING

MUSIC CUE: Faure - Pelléas et Mélisande - II. La Fileuse

ELIO and OLIVER walk down the street into Crema on a beautiful day.  

EXT. - CREMA PIAZZA - CAFE TABLE

ELIO and OLIVER sit opposite each other as the sun begins to set behind the Crema townsquare skyline.  They sit in comfortable silence, watching cars rolls past, other couples stroll through the waning evening.

OLIVER

Does Sascha know?

ELIO

Huh?

OLIVER

Does he know about me?  That I’m here.

ELIO finally gets that OLIVER is references their conversation from earlier in the day.  He sits forward, moving his beer glass out of the way so they can speak privately.

ELIO

Yeah, he knows you’re here.  

OLIVER

And?

ELIO scoffs, old annoyances resurfacing.  

ELIO

Well, a normal boyfriend would get jealous, right?

OLIVER

And...Sascha’s not a normal boyfriend?

ELIO

(Feeling slightly uncomfortable)

We haven't really talked since I got here.  He’s in Japan, conducting for the summer and evidently...

(a deep inhale)

I was more upset about him not coming to New York that I thought.  

OLIVER holds his tongue, which ELIO appreciates.

ELIO (CONT’D)

We had a huge fight before I left.  

OLIVER

Sounds familiar.

ELIO

I honestly don’t know if we’re even together anymore.

OLIVER

How can you not know that?

ELIO

It was never super defined.  Like, we’re a couple, everyone knows that but there were never titles or talk of the future.  We were never...exclusive.

OLIVER sits back, genuinely surprised.

ELIO (CONT’D)

Don’t look at me like that.

OLIVER

Like what?

ELIO

Like you’re judging.  Just because my relationship doesn’t look or act like yours, doesn’t make it less valid.

OLIVER

I’m not judging.  Look, as long as you’re ok with that then I’m happy for you.

(then when ELIO remains silent, his eyes averted)

You are ok with it, aren’t you?

ELIO

It’s not like it’s not fun sometimes.

He smiles salaciously.  He’s a young, handsome, hot blooded male.  Who could blame him? To be honest, OLIVER is a little jealous of his liberty.

ELIO (CONT’D)

But...the idea of being something shareable? I hate that.  I like what my parents had.  What Isaac and Mounir have.  Hell, even what you and Cindy have.

OLIVER

No, no, no.  I wouldn't wish our struggles on my worst enemy.  And the saddest part is, I like the idea of marriage too.  I like the thought of having a best friend for your whole life.  I suppose that’s why I proposed to her in the first place.

ELIO takes a long drink of his beer.

ELIO

You don’t need to sign a piece of paper to have that.

ELIO turns back towards the piazza as OLIVER tries to take stock of their whole conversation.  Eventually, he sits back in his seat, enjoying the evening.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - MR. PERLMAN’S STUDY - DAY

ELIO and OLIVER work together.

OLIVER sits at his desk, trying to make sense of a stack of papers littered with red ink, edits.  

ELIO goes through an unlabeled box.  He pulls out a file, realizes what they are then dives back into the box, looking for and eventually finding what he’d hoped he might.

He goes through the papers, smiling, then drops them in front of OLIVER.

ELIO

Look.

OLIVER sifts through the papers, realizing that these are the applications for the year he applied to come stay with the Perlman’s back in ‘83.  He comes across his file. They both share a laugh at his old photo, still attached to the corner with a paperclip. OLIVER holds onto it.

OLIVER

My competition, huh?  I recognize some of these names.

ELIO

(pointing to one as OLIVER goes through)

The guy who stayed with us the year before you, Pyotr.  No, Pavel.

(he corrects himself, remembering)

He really wanted us to pick this guy, a friend of his from school, I guess.  But in the end it was you.  

ELIO looks at OLIVER, sincere.

ELIO (CONT’D)

I wanted it to be you.

After one last wistful look, OLIVER takes the whole stack of them and dumps them in the trash.  Then from off screen, ELIO reaches into the bin and pulls OLIVER’s file out.

In the background, OLIVER chuckles, appreciating ELIO’s sentimentality.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Outside it rains.  That kind of steady summer rain that seems to sap the warmth from the air but which the gardens appreciate.

Inside, ANNELLA and ELIO sit next to each other on the couch.  On the television, “Home Alone” plays overdubbed in Italian. They seem to enjoy it, even for though ridiculousness and better suited the for a different season.  

To ELIO’s left, OLIVER has fallen asleep on a different couch, his head slumped to the side, his feet still on the floor.  He’s begun to snore, softly.

ELIO stands up and places a blanket over him, tucking it in with perhaps more care than necessary.

His mother gives him a pointed look as he sits back down.  

ELIO

Shut up.

He crosses his arms petulantly across his chest and stifles a smile as she pulls him close to her.

EXT. PERLMAN VILLA - DAY

MUSIC CUE: Copland - Appalachian Spring, Part 2. Allegro

MAFALDA picks fruit from the fruits trees.

ELIO and OLIVER walk past with their bikes.  MAFALDA asks if they will be home in time for dinner, to while ELIO replies, “Sì, naturalmente!” shouting it over his shoulders as they get on their bikes and speed away.

She watches them, mutters something about “men acting like boys”, but no one is there to listen so does not begrudge them.

EXT. ELIO’S SPRING - DAY

ELIO and OLIVER appear at the top of the hill, looking down the the familiar, icy pool of water.  

OLIVER

It feels dangerous coming back here.  Like returning to the scene of a…

ELIO

(cutting him off, laughing)

Don’t you even say it.

OLIVER laughs too and they both amble down the hill, testing out the water.  OLIVER grabs ELIO for support when he finds it just as freezing as it had been before.

EXT. ELIO’S PRIVATE SPRING - DAY, CONT'D

They sit side by side, feet kicking in the water.  The sun is warm even if their toes are not.

ELIO

I didn’t plan it, you know.  That day when I brought you here.  

(when OLIVER looks confused)

I just...wanted you to know this place.  I’d never brought anyone here before.  It’s not like lured you here to try and make my move.  

OLIVER

(playful)

Suuure.

(then thoughtful)

 It doesn’t really feel that long ago.  Or maybe it feels like forever. It’s hard to tell.

ELIO

(after a beat)

I fucked Marzia for the first time that night.

OLIVER

(with a grin)

Well, lucky Marzia.

ELIO

You got yours in the end.

OLIVER

(steamy, as if remembering how good it was)
I most certainly did.  

ELIO watches how their feet look, side by side, under the rippling, crystal water.

ELIO

When did you know about me?

OLIVER

When you blushed.

ELIO can’t help it.  He does the very same thing now.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - OFFICE

OLIVER works in Mr. Perlman’s office at his desk.  Going through drawers. It feels a bit obtrusive but then again this is why he’s here.  He goes through a disc storage case finding a series of discs labeled “Manuscript - Final” in Mr. P’s handwriting and a date very near to when he died.

OLIVER turns the computer on, waits for it to warm up and inserts the disc.  He pulls out the stack of heavily edited papers he’d been looking at the day before and begins to match what he sees on the screen to printed paper.

In the background, he hears ELIO begin to play the piano.  

MUSIC CUE: Schubert Impromptu - #3 in G-flat Major

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - LIVING ROOM - DAY

ELIO continues to play in the other room.  There is no music in front of him. He is just embodying a melody, so beloved and so ingrained into his technique that he can play almost without thinking.  Only feeling. Letting his mind go.

As he plays, he senses more than sees OLIVER come into the room.  OLIVER listens for a moment, distant and thoughtful, then walking slowly so as not to disturb, he comes to stand behind ELIO, close at his back, the way he had in New York.

ELIO nearly shivers at his proximity, realizing how desperately he wants OLIVER to reach out across that tangible electricity between them and touch.

This time together, holding onto their supposed buddy-buddy, camaraderie, it’s too much keep up any longer.

ELIO wants . He wants what they had been.  What they always have the potential to be.

He changes, beginning a performance for OLIVER instead of just playing for himself.  He puts his heart and body into the notes, hoping OLIVER will hear.

As the piece ends, the phrase falling away he turns to see OLIVER’S response.  Has ELIO’S performance moved him? Can they now, finally, admit why they are both really here?

But OLIVER is already gone.

INT. - PERLMAN VILLA - HALLWAY  

ELIO sits with the phone to his ear, waiting for the other end to answer.

He sits up taller when someone does.  He speaks carefully, like one might with someone who does not speak English as their first language.

ELIO

Hello, I’m trying to reach Sascha Beckmann.  I believe he is in room 758.

ELIO waits again, he picks at the sole of his foot.  

Outside, there are sounds of a car arriving on the gravel drive, his mother greeting this evening’s guests, friends or relations with teenage children.  The two youngsters, really not that much younger than ELIO had been OLIVER’S first summer in Crema, rush down the hall, casting ELIO some breezy greetings as they hurry to stow their things in their room, get dressed in bathing suits and enjoy the remainder of the day.

ELIO is snapped back to the phone conversation.

ELIO

Yes? Oh, ok, thank you. What? No, no I don’t need to leave a message.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

It has been another night of dinner drudgery.  More lengthy chats about his father and the tragedy of his passing, more sympathy that while a sign of his father’s legacy, only reopened fresh scabs that had, without ELIO noticing, started to knit themselves back together.

ELIO finds his coping mechanism at the bottom of a red wine bottle.

He comes into the living room from the kitchen with a fresh bottle, getting some dirty looks from the teenaged guests as he passes in front of the TV.  He sits, making room for himself, directly next to OLIVER on the couch.

OLIVER eyes him wearily, though accepts a glass of wine when ELIO offers.

All the dinner guests, ANNELLA, OLIVER and even MAFALDA have gathered around the television to watch “Silence of the Lambs” in Italian subtitles.  

MAFALDA seems unimpressed by the plot, tutting and grimacing as Jodi Foster and Anthony Hopkins share the iconic scene.  “Oh, no, no.” She mutters, gesturing dispassionately at the screen.

ELIO however, is focused only on OLIVER. His profile, his proximity. The way his shirt is unbuttoned at his chest, exposing that once treasured skin, that same Star of David.

The room is dark and the two of them sit off to the side on their own, outside the pool of light cast by the TV. Had OLIVER planned it that way? Had he?

He remembers the way he had shivered earlier as OLIVER watched him play.  In this remember feeling, he finds some boldness and just a bit of desperation.

Without looking at OLIVER, ELIO places his hand on OLIVER’s thigh, just north of his knee.  OLIVER turns to him, surprised, but ELIO keeps his face blank, his eyes on the movie. OLIVER adjusts himself on the sofa, trying to find some space to put between them, but not finding any.  It is only after OLIVER settles, seemingly having accepted the feel on ELIO’S palm, warm and heavy on his leg, that ELIO trails his fingers, inward and up, along the inseam of OLIVER’S jeans, showing no signs of stopping until he finds his cock.

OLIVER jumps up and stares down at ELIO for a moment before leaving the room.

MAFALDA

Alora. Anche lui pensa che sia troppo spaventoso.

(Even he thinks it’s too scary.)

ELIO finishes his drink before slamming the glass down on the coffee table in front of him and following OLIVER.

EXT. PERLMAN VILLA - OUTSIDE - IMMEDIATELY AFTER - NIGHT

ELIO finds OLIVER outside.  He walks straight up to him and kisses him with no preamble.  The kiss is so rough, and OLIVER so unprepared, they must grab onto each other, shoulders and hips, so as to not fall over.  

For all it’s brusqueness, neither man hold back, giving into the moment under the stars.  Their feet shuffle in the gravel. Their breaths, heated and eager, are loud in the night.

It is, as should be no surprise, OLIVER that pulls away first.  ELIO sways at the lack of contact.

ELIO

(in an edgy whisper hand still possessively on the back of OLIVER’s neck)

Don’t say you can’t because you fucking have.  If not in act than at least here.

He rests a finger at OLIVER’S temple.  

ELIO (CONT’D)

And here.

The same hand falls to OLIVER’S chest.  OLIVER covers his hand with his, his fingers sliding between ELIO’s.  It is a moment of tenderness and exposure. A moment where it would be all to easy to tilt his head forward and kiss ELIO again.

Instead, he removes ELIO’s hand from his body and steps away.

OLIVER

You’re drunk.  

ELIO

But I’m right.

OLIVER

(snapping)

We can’t just do this because we’re both grieving and we’re here again.

ELIO

(bitter)

That’s not why it would happen and you know it.  

ELIO staggers off, leaving OLIVER to watch on, wondering why he always chooses to push ELIO away, when that is the last thing he wants to do.

EXT. PERLMAN VILLA - PATIO - BREAKFAST, FOLLOWING DAY

ELIO sits with his fellow diners, his mother and the adults from the night before.  He looks a bit rough around the edges. Slunk low in his chair behind the morning paper, dark shakes to hide his eyes.

OLIVER comes outside, greeting everyone politely.  He takes the only seat left, the one directly next to ELIO.

OLIVER

(softly to ELIO)

Morning.

ELIO replies curtly with a grunt, but only because he’s not a child anymore.  He does little, however, to hide his continued irritation, quickly returning to his paper.

ANNELLA watches the interaction with a mother’s eye.

OLIVER

Annella, I’ve been meaning to mention.  I’ve been piecing together Sammy’s edits for his manuscript, between what he has printed out and what he’s saved to discs.  He was a lot further along than I think I had realized before.  I’d be honored if you’d let me finish what is left and get it to his publisher.

ANNELLA

Could you do that?

OLIVER

It would mean staying on here a while longer, a few more weeks maybe.

ELIO, wordlessly, gets up and walks away.  OLIVER and ANNELLA both watch him go, feeling uneasy and helpless.

ANNELLA

(with a broad smile)

This sounds like doubly good news, then.

She pats OLIVER’S hand in sympathy before he tucks into his breakfast .

EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - ROAD - DAY

ELIO rides his bike fast, breathing heavy, sweat stains the fabric of his shirt across his back.  He rides to distract himself, to get as far away from OLIVER, from everything as possible.

It’s not really working, so he pumps his legs harder.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - HALLWAY - DAY

OLIVER

I know, buddy, I miss you too.  No, it’s going to be a little while longer before Daddy comes home.

It’s such a simple statement, but OLIVER’s voice comes close to breaking.  Already sensing the lie he’s perpetuating for his son’s sake.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to keep his emotions in check as his says, “I love you, too.”

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

ELIO walks through the room, he’s sweaty and still breathless after his day away on his bike.  

ANNELLA

We missed you at dinner.

ELIO

I ate in town.

She mouths an "Ah", understanding more that ELIO would like.

ELIO slumps down on the couch next to her.  She has an old photo album open and almost looks apologetic, embarrassed by this moment of sentimentality as ELIO sees the picture.

It’s his parents wedding day.  His father, thin and beardless, wears classic black, a yarmulke on his head.  His mother is radiant in a long sleeved, satin dress, a bouquet of yellow-hearted daisies in her hand.

ELIO

(gushing)

You look so beautiful.  And dad...my god.

ANNELLA

He looks so much like you.

ELIO nods, eagerly.

ANNELLA

It was a happy day.  But then again weddings always are.

ELIO

Even if life after isn’t always.

ANNELLA

Do you mean what is happening with Oliver and his wife?

ELIO nods again.

ANNELLA 

He has spoken to me about their struggles.

ELIO

Are you sad for him?

ANNELLA

All I hope is that he finds resolution and eventual joy.  Are you sad for him?

ELIO

(opening up)

If only it were that simple.

ANNELLA

It has helped me, having you both here this summer.  It’s heartening to see that you two still have such a beautiful friendship even after all this time.  

ELIO

He is the best person I’ve ever known in my entire life.

ANNELLA

Then you have chosen him well.

ELIO laughs to himself.  ANNELLA knows. Of course she knows.  Just like she must have known the first time.  

But just like the first time, “friendship” is not all he feels.  And also  like the first time, OLIVER is not meant to be his for long.

ELIO

(whispering)

Why does this keep happening to me?  

ANNELLA cups his face tenderly.

ANNELLA

Mon pettite amour.  Tu sais pourquoi.

ELIO nods meekly, exhaling softly through his mouth.  His  breath is unsteady as he blinks away tears.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - OLIVER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The night is painfully still. Sweltering July heat. Not a bit of breeze to help quell the heat.  Even so, OLIVER has kept his window open in hope. He’s on top of his sheets, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts.  It’s too hot for anything else.

From where rests on his bed, a reading light on for the book he’s not really paying much attention to, he hears the sound the easy slap of ELIO’s bare feet on the steps up to their rooms.

He hears movement through the door to ELIO’S room, then the bathroom light switches on, glowing under the doorframe, then the shower begin to run.  With a heavy sigh, OLIVER turns his light off, resigning himself to ELIO’s continued cold shoulder.

INT. OLIVER’s ROOM - NIGHT

A short time later.

With only a quick pair of knocks as a warning, ELIO opens the door to the OLIVER’s room.   

There is enough moonlight filtering in through his open window that OLIVER can see ELIO standing just inside the doorway, wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms, his hair slicked back and wet from the shower.

OLIVER sits, crossing his legs in the middle of his bed.

ELIO

I can’t sleep.

OLIVER knows he hasn’t had time to try between the end of shower and now but who's counting?

OLIVER

Does this mean we’re talking again?

There is an exasperated edge to his voice.  The question sounding more like “Are you done making a scene yet?” than the one he voices.

ELIO nods, looking contrite, almost sheepish, as he comes to sit on the edge of OLIVER’s bed.  

Even though they’ve agreed to talk, the silence stretches.  Sometimes words come up empty in the face of feelings so complex and elemental.

So instead, OLIVER acts.  

He trails trembling brush against ELIO’S cheek, his hand coming to rest at the base of ELIO’S skull within his curls.  

OLIVER

(tender whisper)

I’m never not going to want this.  You know that.

ELIO

I don’t mean to make things difficult for you.  I’m sorry.

OLIVER

(sincere)

I’m not.

OLIVER kisses his neck, his jaw, reverent and delicate, taking the same to taste his freshly cleaned skin.  ELIO curls into the touch, face lifting towards OLIVER, pleading and yearning. When their lips finally meet, ELIO melts, falling against OLIVER’s frame.

OLIVER slides back towards the headboard and ELIO follows, kissing and disrobing what little clothing they have left as they go.  They kiss deep and pure, desperate to reforge that which is unique unto themselves.

ELIO finds himself on top of OLIVER, his hips cradled in the space between OLIVER’S thighs.  He pulls back momentarily to take in the beauty of this view.

Something about his look inspires OLIVER.  He leans up on one arm to whisper against ELIO’s ear, barely audible but for the pristine quiet of the night.

OLIVER

(heated and breathy)

Take me.

(then almost after as an afterthought)

Oliver .

The look they share is unfettered.  The most raw. The most lustful. But also full of purest form of trust.  Trust with their bodies, with their hearts, their lives.

There is not a possible secret left between them - because this, this unending need to be together, to give and to take and to know - was the only secret they had left.  As OLIVER nods, almost imperceptibly, solidifying his point to a wonderstruck ELIO by rolling to his stomach beneath him, a safety net is unveiled with with they will always catch each other.

ELIO presses a trail of kisses down the length of OLIVER spine, his skin already pricking with sweat.  OLIVER lets out a shuddering breath against the pillows.

EXT. PERLMAN VILLA - MORNING

MUSIC CUE: GRIEG - WEDDING DAY AT TROLDHAUGEN

Jump cut to another brilliant summer morning.  ELIO’s cat bathes himself in a pool of sunshine in the chair next to ANNELLA.

ELIO and OLIVER arrive at breakfast together, spirits high.  ANNELLA takes note, but says nothing.

There is the usual Mafalda spread.  Thick cuts of toast, fresh better, whole fruits, carafes of coffee.  OLIVER of course, goes straight for a soft boiled egg, which even after all this time, he still cannot crack open properly.

ELIO teases him.

ELIO

All this time.  Americano, eh? You’re useless.

OLIVER

If anyone ever went to the effort to show me how...

ELIO

Ok, ok.  Allow me.

ELIO rises dramatically from his seat, coming to stand behind him.  With his own arms on top of OLIVER’S, he taps the egg gently, not letting a single fleck of shell land in the egg.  

ELIO

Einfach so.

(Just like that)

It is done with such affection, such shameless flirtation, that if his mother didn’t already know, he’d just left her with no doubt know.  

As he takes his seat, he looks at his mother as if daring her to say something.  She only looks back, proudly.

EXT. ELIO’S SPRING - DAY

ELIO and OLIVER share a picnic, hidden away from the world in the tall grass.  They lay side by side on a blanket, tempting and close, but when ELIO tries to kiss OLIVER he pulls away.

OLIVER

Ah, ah, ah.  Remember the rules.  No kissing, no touching.

ELIO

(whining)

This game is twisted.  4 years, Oliver...

OLIVER

(ghosting over ELIO’s lip)

I promise I’ll make it worth your while when we get home.

ELIO flops back against the blanket with a dramatic groan.

MUSIC CUE: COCTEAU TWINS - HEAVEN OR LAS VEGAS

MONTAGE - VARIOUS

• The boys get off bikes and walk into the open door by the kitchen.  In an instant, OLIVER presses ELIO up against the wall. ELIO’s leg comes around OLIVER’S hip and he trails his large palm up the length of ELIO’s thigh, kissing him deeply.  Then they run, like boys, to their room for afternoon lovemaking.

• They fuck in OLIVER'S bed, their naked bodies moving together, faces grimaced with exertion and ecstasy.

• They walk through the piazza at night, not touching, but still lost to themselves.

• OLIVER works at the computer, Mr. Perlman’s manuscript files scattered around him in the much more organized office.

• They lay in the sunshine on towels, naked chested as other guests lounge in the pool.

• They ride bikes down empty roads on a cloudy day.

• OLIVER speaks to his sons on the phone, upbeat and smiling.

• They sleep together in ELIO’s small bed, curled around each other, their bodies long and beautiful together.

• ELIO works at the piano, pencil tucked behind his ear and metronome close at hand.

• They sit at lunch while the latest guests talk.  Under the table, OLIVER slides his foot across the pavement, covering ELIO’S foot with his own.  They lock eyes, then pretend to continue listening to the conversation.

• ELIO kisses OLIVER in water of the pool, not caring who sees.

• Oliver types the title page for Mr. Perlman’s manuscript.  The letters appear on the screen. “‘On Praxiteles: Art and Desire’ by Samuel Perlman, PhD.  Posthumously edited by Oliver Stern, PhD.”

• MAFALDA lets OLIVER into her kitchen, teaching him how to roll out pasta.  ELIO watches on, amused by MAFALDA’S unusual patience and OLIVER’s concentration.  ANNELLA’s eyes go wide as she walks past, “C’est l’amour,” she says. And ELIO nods.  Yes, it is.

• OLIVER watches ELIO as he sleeps, tracing the outline of his lips, coming to terms with so much about himself and his life.

EXT. PERLMAN VILLA - FRUIT GROVE - DAY

ANCHISE has dug a new hole for a young tree, its root bud still wrapped in burlap, rests off to the side.

ANNELLA comes forward with a decorative urn, simple yet tasteful in design.  She opens the lid, tipping forward a portion of its ashen contents into the hole.  

As she steps back, ANCHISE places the tree into the hole and begins filling it in.

ELIO and OLIVER stand nearby, OLIVER’s arm around ELIO’s shoulders.  MAFALDA watches too. They do nothing to hide the fact they are together this time around, at least not in front of family.

ANNELLA

(with her back still turned from ELIO and OLIVER)

I think he would have wanted something like this to happen.  Especially on such a perfect summer day.

She turns to her boys.  For the first time, we see ANNELLA openly cry, quiet and refined, but very much heartbroken.

ANNELLA

He wants the rest scattered all over.  The Aegean, the Dead Sea, the Hudson. Will you do this for him?  For me?

She means the both of them.  ELIO is too choked up to speak so OLIVER speaks on their behalf.

OLIVER

Of course.  It would be an honor.

ELIO moves to hold his mother, finally able to be that pillar of support he’d wanted to be for her all along.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - OFFICE - SAME DAY, LATER

MUSIC CUE: WAGNER - Liebestod from Tristan und Isolde

ELIO sits sideways on the faded red velvet couch, a red hoodie on, his knees tucked up by his chest.  He listens to the apex of the music, strings, winds and brass swelling and aching at deafening levels.

OLIVER enters the room, turning the music down to more bearable volumes as the nature of the piece becomes more reserved and still too.  He joins ELIO on the couch, lifting ELIO’s long legs out of the way so he can sit under them.

OLIVER

Well, this is dramatic.

ELIO

The first time I ever listened to this piece was with you.  You'd found a recording on cassette of Wagner overtures from a shop in town and brought it back one afternoon.

OLIVER

(fondly)
I remember.

ELIO  

(letting his head fall back)

I love this opera, now.  Sascha and I saw the production in Bayreuth one summer when we first got together.

They listen as the piece ends.

ELIO

Do you have a will?

OLIVER

(with a shrug)

I have kids.

That seems like sufficient answer enough to him.  

OLIVER (CONT’D)

I left something for you, you know. Just on the chance I never got the chance to return it to you myself.

ELIO

What?

OLIVER

The postcard.

ELIO

My postcard?  The one you stole from me?

OLIVER

(snickering)

Stole .

ELIO  

Though I suppose it’s more yours than mine now, you’ve owned it longer.  Why would you want to give it back?

OLIVER

I wrote my own inscription on the back.  After New York.

ELIO needs a moment to process the meaning of this.  He sits forward.

ELIO

What does it say?

OLIVER

It’s a surprise.  

ELIO

For after you’ve died?  Then it’s cruelest surprise I can imagine.

OLIVER

Fine.  But you have to guess.  2 words.

ELIO  

(rolls his eyes)  

Ummm...If not later, when?

OLIVER

Now, that would just be cruel. Besides I said two words.

ELIO

(giving up quickly)

I have no idea.

OLIVER

Cor cordium, heart of hearts.  I’ve never said anything truer in my life.

Shelly.  From their talk that day in New York.  ELIO is nearly overwhelmed by it all.

With an unexpected urgency he speaks.

ELIO

You’re the only person I think I need to say goodbye to before I die.  That’s the only way any of this makes sense to me. And I can’t stand the thought that someday I might wake up to hear “He died last night” from one your sons or, even worse, your wife.  So promise me.

ELIO is highly worked up by the time he ends but OLIVER remains patient and calm.

OLIVER

Promise you what?

ELIO realizes he’s not making any sense but doesn’t care.  He just needs some sort of certainty. Any pledge will do.

ELIO

Just promise me.

OLIVER

(soft)

Ok. I promise.

OLIVER threads his fingers tenderly through ELIO’s hair, watching the way his curls wrap around his fingers.

OLIVER

Who knows.  Maybe if I’m lucky, you’ll be there holding my hand in the end.

ELIO whimpers, a balm applied to his ragged soul, even if it is just a hypothetical dream.  He falls against OLIVER’S chest, turning his head to press his ear so he can listen to OLIVER’S heartbeat while he still can.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - ANNELLA’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

The Villa master bedroom is as one would expect.  High ceilings that match the rest of the first floor.  A stately high bed, with rich, red linens.

There is a fireplace, the obviously only gets used in the winter months with a beautiful white marble mantle.

ANELLA enters, dressed for bed. She carries the urn with Samuel’s ashes.  She places it carefully on the mantle.

ANNELLA

Beaux rêves, mon amour.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - OLIVER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

OLIVER sits up against the headboard of his bed, reading, his glasses perched on his nose. ELIO enters the room, pulling on a shirt.

OLIVER sets his aside his book and glasses.

OLIVER

I heard you in your room.  I was worried you weren’t coming.

ELIO shakes his head “no” and falls next to him on the bed.  He tucks himself against OLIVER like a child might, finding every possible nook and cranny to fold into.  

ELIO

After tonight, we’ll have officially been together, like this

(he gestures between them

for two whole weeks.  14 days, 14 nights.

OLIVER

That’s pretty momentous landmark.

ELIO

For us, yes.  What I wouldn’t have given for those 4 extra days our first time around.

OLIVER pulls him closer, appreciating ELIO’S simple honesty.  ELIO props himself up on one elbow.

ELIO

Our lives have scarcely touched.  

OLIVER acknowledges the statement.

ELIO (CONT’D)

But it feels like you’ve always been there. I mean, in my childhood. You were there right?

OLIVER

I think I was.  You have always been and will always be my friend, Elio.  My brother.

ELIO

My father.

OLIVER is confused, but only momentarily until he grasps the all consuming, multi-faceted love ELIO is expressing to him in this very moment.  It’s beautiful.

He returns in kind.

OLIVER

My son.

After a heated gasp, that turns the mood.

ELIO

(clasping OLIVER’s chin in his fingers)

My lover.

 OLIVER

(each syllable pronounced and hushed)

My husband.

ELIO crawls on top of OLIVER kissing him fiercely.  He pulls back only long enough to rasp against OLIVER’S lips.

ELIO

Me.

They kiss again, whimpering and moaning, giving over to the urgency of their bodies and the profundity of this profession.

They seal this covenant, more precious and sacred than any vows either man has spoken before or since.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - OLIVER’S BEDROOM - NIGHT

ELIO and OLIVER sleep naked, only half covered in rumpled sheets.

The shutters over the window bang loudly with a gust of wind. It wakes ELIO and he hurries to the window to shut them.  

He looks out the window before shutting it.  Rain falls in heavy, cool sheets. ELIO lets the breeze blow across his face. In the distance there is lighting in the sky, the grumble of thunder.  

He knows what this storm means: fall is coming.

OLIVER (O.S.)

I love you.

ELIO turns to see OLIVER has awoken too.  He's seated on the edge of the bed. He looks down at where his feet hit the floor, bashful but only for a moment.   Then he lets his eyes find ELIO'S, confident in his statement. 

ELIO

(if a little sadly)

I know that.  I’ve always know that.

OLIVER smiles wryly.

OLIVER

Good.  I just figured after 9 years one of us should say it.

OLIVER grabs a shirt from the floor and hands it to ELIO which he puts on to ward against the cold.  OLIVER drags a blanket off the top of the bed and slings it over his shoulders.

They stand on either side of the window, watching the storm move closer.  

ELIO

You really want to do this thing for my father?

OLIVER

Why not?

ELIO
(shrugging)

It just means not going home for a while longer.

OLIVER

Yep

That is not a reason not to do it.

ELIO nods, contemplative.  He reaches his hand out the window, catching some of the water spilling out from the overworked gutters in his palm.

ELIO

But you would eventually right?  We'd both just go back to our lives after another perfect summer together?

(he gestures between the two of them as he speaks)

Boston, Berlin.  Cindy, Sascha. Kids, Career.  Wait another 4, 15 or 20 years until we fall into each other’s beds again?

OLIVER shakes his head.

OLIVER

I know I can’t...come back here in another nine years time to mourn another death of someone who has begun to feel like family.  My wife in tow, our marriage still hobbling along on life support with our now teen-aged sons hating us for it.  I can’t come meet some new lover of yours who will never give you what you truly deserve all the while knowing that you and I could have had so much more.  

He looks at ELIO, ardent and emotionally exposed.  In their unspoken language, OLIVER is left with no doubt that ELIO can’t bear the thought of that future either.

ELIO

But did we miss it?  

OLIVER

Miss what?

ELIO

That fork in the road where we could’ve...veered off together?  Seems like now there's too much in the way.  Was it that day in New York?  Or that day at the train station where you got on and I didn’t?

OLIVER

Maybe it’s right now.  Because I won‘t leave you this time, Elio.  I can‘t.

It is easy to trust in such earnest promises.  To believe in a destination even though you know the path there will be fraught with ugly, grueling dangers.  

Hearts will be broken, sacrifices will need to be made on both sides.

But as they stand together, watching lightning shoot across the sky in each other’s arms, there is no doubt that the ends will justify the means.

For under this Lombardi sky, starting in that summer 9 years ago and lasting onwards into infinity, heaven had reached down to earth and given them that ration of what is from birth divinely theirs.

And this is given once only.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - HALLWAY - DAWN

OLIVER sits pressing a long series of numbers into the phone.  He has them memorized by now. ELIO stands nearby, his hip resting on the side table, nervously chewing on his thumb nail.  

OLIVER puts the handset to his ear and nods when it starts ringing.  This is ELIO’S cue to make himself scarce.

Just as he walks past, OLIVER grasps his hand, a needed, bolstering touch of support.

OLIVER

(as the call goes through)

Cind. Hi.

His voice sounds hollow.  ELIO kisses the back of his hand once and leaves him.

OLIVER

Yeah, no it’s really early here.  Or really late, depending.

ELIO walks slowly through all the familiar corners of his home but sees them in a different light as this new day breaks.  OLIVER’S voice fades as ELIO starts up the stairs.

OLIVER (O.S)

I just wanted to catch you when I knew the boys would be asleep.

The mounting pain in OLIVER’s voice is reflected on ELIO’s face.

OLIVER (O.S.)

We need to talk.  

EXT. PERLMAN VILLA - BALCONY - DAYBREAK

The storm has left in its wake a brilliant blue morning.  A perfect, unblemished sky, a delicate wind to rustle the trees.

ELIO leans on the railing on the balcony by their bedrooms and waits.

INT. PERLMAN VILLA - HALL - MORNING

OLIVER cries openly.  His face hidden from view, forehead propped up on his hands.  His quiet sobs echoing in his solitude.

But when he lifts his face, looking towards the ceiling, there - mixed with the anguish and the guilt - is radiant, hopeful, sublime relief.

His tears continue to fall, complicated and beautiful.

EXT. PERLMAN VILLA - BALCONY - MORNING

When OLIVER finally joins ELIO on their balcony, ELIO doesn’t ask how he is, or how things went.  The answer is evident on his face.

Instead, he offers what small physical comforts he can, a brief kiss to his temple, a steady hand passing across his back as OLIVER comes to stand next to him, shoulder to shoulder at the railing.

They turn their faces towards the sunshine.

ELIO

So, I was thinking we could start in Greece.  We’ll have to fly to Athens but then we can take the train to the coast from there.  We can look for flights later today.

OLIVER nods along, still too numb to speak.

ELIO

From there, it’s a short flight to Jerusalem.  Then we can head to New York.  I’ll get in touch with Josh, see if we can stay with him.  I know he’d be happy to see you again.

MUSIC CUE: Sufjan Stevens - Out of Egypt, into the Great Laugh of Mankind

OLIVER grins bashfully as ELIO bumps him with his shoulder.

OLIVER

And then?

This is the crux of it, isn’t it?  ELIO takes a deep breath.

ELIO

Then you head back to Boston and start sorting things out.  

OLIVER

And you?

ELIO

I guess I go to Berlin and start doing the same.  I hear Boston is lovely in the fall.

It’s trite, perhaps, and overly simplistic but maybe they need a little simplicity.  ELIO acknowledges this fact with a droll look. But it’s all OLIVER needs to grasp onto.  ELIO’s sacrifices will be as earth moving as his own. But so will their gains.

He leans in closer to ELIO.

OLIVER

(his voice quivering)

That sounds like a good plan.

ELIO brushes a lock of OLIVER’S hair off his haggard face, tender, unconditional affection.  

ELIO

Yeah?

OLIVER

Yeah.

ELIO kisses his hair.  OLIVER’S eyes close.

As the camera pans back, revealing first the entirety of the balcony, than the villa, then the property as a whole, their conversation fades and the music takes over.

ELIO

You ever been to Israel?

OLIVER

I haven’t.

ELIO

You’ll love it.  Dad took me there when I was 13.  Saw it as some rite of passage.  Mom was totally freaked out about it...

Before the boys finally slip out of our view, flying over the treeline, we are given one final glimpse of ELIO and OLIVER, sharing a kiss that feels as brand new as it does ancient, standing in the sunshine on that balcony making plans for the rest of their lives.

ROLL CREDITS

(As the credits roll on black scene, images of photographs appear: Elio and Oliver in posing in Athens, Jerusalem, a pic of Josh and Oliver drunk together in NYC bar, ELIO and OLIVER kissing on his old apartment fire escape, the day Elio moves into Oliver’s new apartment in Boston, Elio playing with Oliver’s sons in the snow, a picture after Elio’s first Boston solo recital and on and on and on… a life lived.)