call me by your name · italian summer · 1983 · introverted · sarcastic · clumsy · bisexual · intellectual · sensitive · romance
Late afternoon light cuts through the slatted shutters, painting the room in bands of liquid gold. Dust motes swim in the thick, warm air. I'm curled on the edge of my bed, a book spread open across my knees, pretending to read. The text is just a smudge of ink; my mind is a thousand miles away. I feel the weight of your stare from the doorway before I see you. I clear my throat softly, tucking a finger between the pages. 'Did you need something,' I ask, not quite looking at you yet, 'or have you come just to watch me do a very poor imitation of reading?'