Chapter Text
The new kid arrived at Vestal High School in late January of Oliver’s senior year. The boy was only a junior, but in a town as small as theirs, anyone different stood out immediately. It was rare to get any new students at their tiny school in rural upstate New York, especially in the middle of the year.
By the end of the first day everyone knew his name. Elio Perlman, who had moved to their town from a small village in Italy. His father had just started as a Classics professor at the large state university in the next city over. Elio was standoffish and studious. Oliver suspected he was actually shy and overwhelmed by his new situation, but the other students immediately labeled him as pretentious, dismissed him, and proceeded to ignore him.
As far as Oliver could see, Elio didn’t care that the other students were not interested in befriending him. He went through the day with his nose in a book, unless he was in the music room practicing his piano. Oliver had walked by the room several times in the few days since Elio had started at their school, drawn in by the flawless notes of Mozart and Bach. But he always stayed outside the door, never entering or letting himself be seen by Elio.
Oliver had one class with Elio, Advanced Placement English, and on his first day Oliver had tried to offer the boy a friendly smile. But Elio never allowed even a glance in his direction, instead intent on raising his hand to answer the teacher’s questions with an inevitably insightful (sometimes bordering on brilliant) answer. Eventually Oliver gave up trying. If the boy wanted to plod through the next year-and-a-half at their high school, friendless and alone, why should Oliver care?
But Oliver thought that he would sometimes catch a glimpse behind Elio’s façade, even if the other ignoramuses at his school could (or would) not. There were times when Elio was sitting by himself at the back of the classroom, alone with whatever tome he was currently reading, and Oliver could see the sadness in his eyes. He wanted to reach out to him in some way, but he always stopped himself. Oliver had worked hard in the last four years to fit in and be popular--playing soccer and basketball, and always donning a cheerful smile. He wasn’t going to put that all on the line for some aloof new kid that he didn’t even know. So he would continue to try and ignore Elio’s existence, even when he was always aware when Elio was in the room. Even when Elio was increasingly on his mind.
So it came as quite a shock when Oliver boarded the bus to his Friday night basketball game, very late due to the emergency of his uniform not being clean, to find Elio in the only empty seat on the bus at the very back. Oliver had made his way down the aisle, finding seat after seat already filled with his fellow players and a few spectators. Just as he was starting to think that he would have to get off and board the second bus that the cheerleaders rode in, he reached the very back and saw an opening in the very last seat. He went to slide in, only then noticing that it was Elio taking up the other half of the seat. He was staring out the window and didn’t even turn when all 6 feet 5 of Oliver was standing at the end.
“Is, uh… anyone sitting here?” Oliver had no idea why he was nervous. No one ever made Oliver Weiss nervous.
Elio finally turned, his green eyes looking up at Oliver, his delicate features contorted with annoyance. He shrugged. “Of course not,” he mumbled.
Oliver slid into the seat as the bus started with a loud rumble. The chatter in the bus grew louder as people talked over the noise of the ancient engine, but Oliver and Elio remained silent. Finally Oliver gathered his courage to speak.
“I’m surprised to see you here. Do you like basketball?”
“Not at all. My parents decided it was time for me to….” he held up his hands to make finger quotes, “be social.”
Elio reached down and pulled a book out from between legs, and then a flashlight. Without another word to Oliver, he turned it on and started to read. Oliver squinted at the book--The Subterraneans by Jack Kerouac.
“I love that one. Most people think that On the Road is the only book he’s written. They’re missing out on some of his best works.”
Elio set down the book on his lap and for the first time, really looked at Oliver. “You read Kerouac?”
Oliver smirked. “Yeah, just because I play basketball doesn’t mean I can’t also love literature. I’m in your AP English class, you know.”
Elio flushed at that. “I know.” He turned back to his book, apparently deciding that the conversation was over.
Oliver decided to try again. “So… you’re from Italy? Do you miss it?”
It was hard to see in the dark, but Oliver thought that he saw Elio’s jaw clench, as if he was trying to hold back his emotions. “Sometimes,” he replied curtly. He didn’t say anything more, but he also didn’t look down at his book again. He took a quick breath and then, without turning to look at Oliver, asked, “What other authors do you like?”
Oliver grinned. Books were one of his favorite topics of conversation, and one that he rarely got to indulge in unless he stayed after English class to chat with his teacher.
“Oh, there are so many. Hemingway, Jack London, James Baldwin. I also, um, like the classics. You know… Aristotle, Plato, Euripides.”
That pronouncement really got Elio’s attention. He sat up straight and turned to face Oliver. “My dad is a Classics professor, at SUNY Binghamton. I’ve never met anyone in high school who is into that stuff. I’m not even into that stuff.”
Oliver couldn’t stop his proud grin that he had succeeded in impressing Elio. “Well, now you have.”
Elio narrowed his eyes, staring at Oliver, seeming to drink in his entire existence. But then he turned back to his book without another word. Oliver sighed. So close, he thought. But then he caught himself. Close to what exactly? Striking up a friendship with the weird new kid? Just because he seemed smart and interesting and really talented. And nice to look at…
“Hey Weiss! You been practicing your free throws? We’re gonna need you making ‘em tonight against Endicott!”
Oliver stood up to yell back to Howard, his point guard. “Yeah, yeah, it’s in the bag. Don’t you worry about it.”
Howard crumpled up a flyer he’d been holding and launched it at Oliver over four rows of seats. Oliver caught it with one hand despite the darkness of the bus.
Oliver pointed at him, pretending to be threatening. “Watch it buddy. You’re not too big for me to put you over my knee.”
Howard guffawed and the boy next to him shouted, “He wishes!”
A female voice from somewhere in the darkness laughed. “You can put me over your knee, Oliver.”
Oliver flushed at the insinuation, as he often did whenever he found himself the center of female attention, and fell back into his seat.
“Aren’t you popular?” Elio muttered, almost under his breath but not quite.
“Actually I am,” Oliver answered matter-of-factly. “Not that I care, " he lied. "Anyway, tell me about Italy. I’ve never been and I’ve always wanted to go. What part of Italy are you from? Rome?”
Elio closed his book again and paused. “Do you really care? Or are you just being nice?”
Oliver sighed. Why was this kid so exhausting? He made his voice gentle. “Elio, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care. Tell me about it. Please. Don’t make me beg.”
Elio glanced over at Oliver and seemed to decide that Oliver was actually sincerely interested. “We aren’t from Rome. We have a villa in the village of Crema, in Northern Italy. It’s beautiful. It’s lush and green and it smells like apricots. My mother has an orchard, and there is a river nearby where we go swimming. It’s….” He stopped talking, and turned to look out the bus window.
Oliver realized that he was tearing up, and gave him a moment to gather himself.
The bus pulled into a school parking lot; they had arrived. The bus was brighter under the parking lot lights, and Oliver could see Elio’s face reflected in the bus window, vulnerable and sad. His heart lurched a bit at the sight, and he had a sudden urge to protect the boy.
“It sounds amazing,” he said softly. “I bet you miss it a lot.”
Elio nodded but said nothing. Oliver stood, gathering his bag. “I gotta go. You know, get changed and warm up.” He paused. “I really enjoyed talking to you, Elio. I’ll… see you inside?”
Elio looked down at his lap. “I’m just going to stay on the bus and read, I think.”
Oliver’s mouth fell open in alarm. “What? No, you can’t do that! You have to come in and watch. If you’re worried about where to sit, I’ll save a place for you on the bench behind the players. They always let us save a few of those seats for our friends and family.”
Elio’s face wrinkled with confusion. ”You’d do that for me?” You barely know me was the unsaid thought.
“Yeah. I don’t want you sitting by yourself on the bus, freezing to death. It’s not a big deal,” he added quickly. “Anyway, I need to get in there. I’ll see you soon.”
Oliver gave Elio one last smile, then made his way down the aisle. It was time to focus on the game and not get distracted by Elio Perlman.
*****
Oliver got changed in the locker room, then went with his team to the gym for warm-ups. He looked over to the bleachers and was relieved to see Elio sitting behind the team bench and was actually chatting with one of the player’s girlfriends. Oliver turned back to the court, happily taking a shot from the 3-point line and sinking it.
“Save it for the game, Weiss!” Gary, the center, called to him.
Oliver glanced over at Elio to see if he happened to see the shot, but he had taken out his book again and his head was bent over the pages. Oliver rolled his eyes and sighed.
The team returned to the bench right before the game started for water and to listen to a pep talk from the coach. Oliver took the seat right in front of Elio, turning to get his attention.
“Hey, Elio.” Elio reluctantly tore his eyes from the book. “You have to watch at least some of the game. If we win this one, we are guaranteed a spot at the regional semi-finals!”
Elio’s brows furrowed. “And that’s… good.”
Oliver rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s good. So please root for us, at least a little. Okay?”
Elio nodded. “So… go Bronze Beavers?”
Oliver laughed heartily at that, his head tipping back. “The Golden Bears! I think the Bronze Beaver is the strip club on route 81.”
That made Elio snort, and Oliver turned around to listen to his coach, pleased that he had made Elio laugh for the first time.
*****
It was a close game and Oliver, who was the power forward, played well. Whenever he made a shot, he would check to see if Elio was watching. He was surprised to see that, as the game progressed, Elio seemed to be paying closer and closer attention to what was happening on the court. By the last quarter, when Endicott had taken the lead by four points, Elio even cheered for Vestal a few times. The game came down to a buzzer beater jump shot by Oliver. He missed, and the game was lost.
Oliver went to the locker room, dejected. He felt the full weight of the loss on his shoulders, despite his teammates assurances that he had played well and that it was a team loss. It was his senior year, and he did not want his season cut short, especially due to his own mistakes.
He showered and changed quickly, as if he were in a hurry. As he pulled on his jeans, he realized that he wasn’t in a hurry to be somewhere, he was in a hurry to see someone. He grabbed his duffel bag and headed out into the dark parking lot to where the two school busses were parked. A group of cheerleaders spotted Oliver and yelled to him.
“Oliver, come on our bus! We smuggled in a few beers!”
Oliver waved but didn’t respond, pretending like he didn’t quite hear them. He boarded the first bus, where he hoped that Elio would be again. He walked down the aisle, as he had earlier, but this time there were plenty of empty seats. A few of his friends and some of the other players called to him to sit with them. Oliver pointed to the back of the bus and said, “I’m sitting back there,” and left it at that. He hoped none of his friends would press the issue.
He finally got to the back of the dark bus, and there was Elio, his book and flashlight balanced on his lap.
“Is this seat taken?” Oliver asked.
Elio looked up, a little startled. “Oliver. You don’t have to sit here again, you know.”
Oliver shrugged and slid in. “I want to. I want to hear what you thought of your first basketball game.”
Elio shocked Oliver with an honest-to-goodness grin. “I actually really enjoyed it. It was fast-paced and exciting. I could follow what was happening. And it was fun watching you make so many baskets. But I’m sorry you lost. Are you upset?”
Elio’s brow furrowed with concern, and the fact that he cared was enough to cheer up Oliver, just a bit. “I was, but I’m feeling better now,” he replied with a small smile.
The bus started up, the force lurching Oliver into his seat. He let his head fall back, and he turned to gaze at Elio. Once the bus pulled out of the parking lot, the bus got darker and Oliver could only see the outline of Elio’s strong jawline and a few of his errant curls. “I want to hear more about Italy. And what other books you’ve read. And your favorite movies.”
There was silence between them for a moment, then Elio asked quietly, “Why are you so interested in me?”
Oliver had been asking himself that question all night. Actually, since Elio had arrived the week before, if he were honest with himself. The fact was… Elio was more than interesting to Oliver. He was, in fact, fascinating. But Oliver couldn’t bring himself to admit that out-loud.
“You're well-read and intelligent, Elio. You’re just... different. I guess I should ask you why you’re bothering talking to me? I’m just some small town jock.”
Elio turned his body to face Oliver, so Oliver could just make out the green of his eyes. “I think that you’re smart and interesting, too. And more than that, you’ve been nice to me.”
Suddenly, Elio shivered. It was a cold January night, and the heat hadn’t reached the back of the bus yet. Oliver looked at the jacket that Elio was wearing and fingered the thin material. “This isn’t a warm enough jacket for a New York winter, Elio. It can’t be more than 30 degrees outside.”
Oliver shrugged off his thick letterman jacket. He had on a warm sweatshirt, plus he always ran hot. Elio needed it more than he did.
“Here. Put this on. I don’t want you freezing to death under my watch.”
“Oliver, I can’t take your…”
“Elio, TAKE IT. I’m not putting it back on, so if you don’t put it on, it’s just going to sit here between us.”
Elio smiled then, hesitantly taking the huge coat. It had Oliver’s name on the front, and their mascot on the back. He leaned forward and pushed his arms through the sleeves, then pulled it around him snug to keep him warm. Oliver watched him, and his heart skipped in a strange way seeing Elio wearing his jacket.
“You look… I don’t know. Cute?”
Elio gave a small smile and Oliver thought he saw Elio duck his face down to sniff the collar. Both boys leaned back on their seat as the bus rumbled through the country roads. Oliver’s thigh was touching Elio’s but neither of them pulled away.
“So… favorite movies," Oliver started. "Mine are The Godfather, Chinatown, and The Shining. I love Jack Nicholson. How about you?”
Elio thought for a moment, then replied, “Cinema Paradiso, Metropolis, and 8 1/2.”
Oliver’s eyebrows raised, impressed. “See? This is why you’re interesting. I haven’t seen any of those.”
Elio bumped his shoulder against Oliver’s. “Guess you need to expand your cultural horizons, Mister ‘I-read-Euripides.’”
Oliver gasped in mock indignation. “I do read Euripides! I just haven’t seen many foreign films. But I want to. You’ll have to tell me more movies to see.”
Elio nodded with a smile. “I can do that. I suppose.”
Oliver chuckled. “I suppose,” he repeated with a laugh.
They were quiet for a moment, and the silence made Oliver more aware of the way his leg was pressing against Elio’s. He still didn’t pull away, and instead enjoyed the warmth coming from their two limbs touching. He turned to Elio and tugged his jacket tighter around Elio’s chest, as a father might do for his small child.
“Are you warm enough?”
Elio nodded, and Oliver was overwhelmed by his proximity to Elio’s face. The shocking thought that he wanted to kiss Elio suddenly appeared in his mind. He quickly sat back again, his heart racing in his chest, and Elio turned to look out the window. They bus was pulling into their school’s parking lot.
“Thank you again for being so kind to me, Oliver,” Elio said without turning from the window.
The bus parked at the curb of the school and the players and spectators all started filing slowly off the bus. Elio and Oliver stayed put, enjoying each other's company a few minutes longer, waiting until the last person was off. Oliver stood up, scooted out of the seat, then held his hand out to help Elio up. After Elio was standing, Oliver kept his warm hand enveloped around Elio’s for a second longer than he needed. He let Elio lead the way down the aisle.
They descended the short staircase off the bus into the crisp, dark January night. The air smelled sharp and fresh, as if it were going to start snowing at any moment. Elio began to pull off Oliver’s jacket, but Oliver stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Keep it. It’s too cold for you to wear just that light jacket home. Do you… need a ride?”
Elio’s face fell. “No, I see my dad’s car over there. Thank you again for letting me wear your jacket. I’ll bring it to school tomorrow for you?”
Oliver shrugged. He really liked Elio in his jacket. But did that have to mean something? Did he want it to mean something? Was he ready for that?
“Why don’t you keep it until you buy something warmer. It looks better on you than me anyway.”
Elio face broke into the biggest smile he’d had all night.
“Alright. See you in English tomorrow.”
“Save me a seat?”
Elio nodded. “I’ll save you a seat. Bye, Oliver.”
“Bye, Elio.”
Oliver watched Elio walk to a green Volvo wearing his letterman jacket, and he felt happier than he had in months. Just as he was crawling into the small car, Elio turned to give Oliver one last wave. Oliver waved back, and suddenly he couldn’t wait for tomorrow to arrive.