F I C : when in rome .

[solosection]

4.

They eat together at the same restaurant as always, the one that's been in the same location for twenty years or more, some things in Rome never change, whereas others do. Other things change too quickly to keep up from visit to visit.

As always, his father asks, "are you seeing someone at the moment?" It's while they're getting dressed to leave, Elio shrugging into his jacket, checking his back pocket for his wallet automatically.

"There's someone," Elio says instead of actually replying, yes or no. His father stops in his tracks, no doubt too used to Elio brushing him off with his don't worries and no one in particular, Papa's. He turns towards him slowly, a glimmer of hope in his eyes that both breaks Elio's heart and provokes him endlessly.

He remembers, of course, his father's well-meaning, if there is pain, nurse it, feel something. Well, Elio hasn't felt anything else since. Until quite recently.

"Oh," his father just says. "And who might this person be?"

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you," Elio assures him, smiling a little bit, but it's a hard-edged, bitter smile. He opens the door to the street and leads his father outside. His father quickly follows. He'll be at Elio's concert in the evening, his last while on the continent. It's been a remarkable tour, if not in terms of musical prowess, then in personal development. Maybe a little bit of both, his reviews have been generally good.

"Will you tell me anyway," his father asks. Outside, the heaviest of the afternoon heat has lifted and people are beginning to gather in the streets again. Elio follows a beautiful, black-haired girl with his eyes and she looks at him, in turn, pausing for a moment in her tracks before crossing the road.

"It doesn't matter who he is, Papa, except that he isn't Oliver and I'm so relieved," he tells him without looking at him, following it up with an even softer, "so, so relieved."

"But has he been good for you?"

"He's been good for me and he's got the potential to be even better," Elio says. They start down the at this point brimming side street towards Elio's hotel, his father will probably have wine in the bar while Elio warms up at the concert hall two streets over. He thinks about Lucifer who's taken him on so many journeys already, physical and otherwise and who doesn't even know for what he's saying you're welcome when he says it by text. Because Elio isn't there to show him what has changed. Without noticing, Elio's pacing picks up, enough that his father is struggling to catch up.

"Elio, wait up!"

He slows down, mutters sorry and shakes his head. "I've been in a coma for many, many years, Papa, but now I've woken up and I want to live my life freely. It's not about him, either I get to live my life with him or I don't, but I want to live, do you understand?"

"Yes," his father says, meeting his eyes directly, no avoidant sideway glances. Elio thinks about Miranda and little Oliver. He thinks about reaching his father's age before coming to the same conclusions. It dawns on him, maybe his father has been preparing him for this moment, too. In the hopes that he wouldn't repeat his mistakes.

Or maybe he's brought himself here, all on his own and he doesn't want to be all on his own anymore.

Walking over and embracing his father tightly, he sends him in the direction of the hotel with a muttered seven o'clock, Papa and then, he walks the rest of the way to the concert hall alone.

The last stretch, he decides. This is the last stretch.