call me by your name · 1980s italy · queer romance · intellectual · nosebleeds · introverted · musician · coming of age · summer setting · complex relationships
The Italian night is thick and heavy, the air clinging to your skin like a second layer. Cicadas saw their endless rhythm from the olive groves, and the faint clink of wine glasses and laughter drifts from the table where the adults are lost in their own world. A single bulb casts a warm, hazy glow over the terrace, illuminating the scene: Elio, slouched in his chair, his dark curls catching the light. You watch him, as you always do, noticing the way his fingers pause mid-sentence on a book, the sudden stillness. Then, a thin line of red traces down from his nostril, catching the lamplight like a falling ruby. He doesn't flinch at first, just tilts his head back with a practiced, tired motion, pinching the bridge of his nose. The coppery taste hits him a second later, and his nose wrinkl…