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Music was his life and spending basically all his waking hours either perched over the piano, with a guitar in hand or in class learning about the deeper secrets of music history and composing – it was worth saying that being a university student was making Elio’s dreams come true. His professors praised him for his dedication and how he approached every new challenge they put in his way almost effortlessly. Of course, being basically addicted to his work came with one downside: Even though Elio was not a stranger to long practicing hours, his workload at university had begun to take a toll on his muscles, and now he was suffering from terrible increasing pain in his back and shoulders due to the intense rehearsals.
What had started as a dull ache every time he pulled off his shirt to get into the shower had gradually turned into not being able to sleep on his left side, then his right side, then not on his back at all – and lying on his stomach had never been his favourite sleeping position for longer than maybe a nap. Well, now he was at a point when he was lucky the pain let him sleep in any position longer than a couple of hours at all.
It was simply no longer acceptable – or bearable – so he went to see his doctor who sent him straight to a physiotherapist who first worked him through the worst pain with equally painful massages, then bluntly told him he needed to exercise regularly or try yoga courses at the gym, anything to keep his sore muscles active and strong.
Thus, with a defeated sigh, Elio grudgingly signed a membership with the campus gym that at least offered special prices for students and teachers.
However, and to his great surprise, he learned that he did not actually hate working out as much as he had feared. It was alright, sometimes even fun, and he also recognised some of his fellow music students and some staff members, sometimes the odd teacher or researcher. And then there was him…
It must have been into his second or third week of membership when Elio’s eyes fell on a tall frame in the weightlifting section, his sweaty t-shirt stretching over broad shoulders, the muscles visibly working under the strain. Elio tilted his head, hiding behind another machine to appreciate the rest of Mr Workout as secretly as possible. That man certainly did not skip leg day! And the muscular back? Well, hello!
When the man turned around to wipe some sweat off his face using the lower half of his t-shirt, Elio felt his mouth go dry at the sight of a very nice sixpack. …but then almost fell off the bench of the workout device he was currently sitting on when he let his eyes wander back up and recognised the handsome face. He had seen him on campus before, usually on his way to or from the library, had thought him attractive but hadn’t pursued this general interest further (he looked a little bit older than himself, maybe a grad-student or teaching assistant, probably out of his league anyway). Well, not until now.
Elio decided that weightlifting was totally on his program for today and walked over to where the man was working out, flashing him a quick smile to test the waters. The man nodded in a friendly way, maybe even held the eye contact a little longer than necessary, then went back to his routine. It wasn’t much, but at least a first step was made, Elio decided. He would find out about the guy’s gym time to adjust his own schedule.
His plan had proven to be surprisingly easy as the other man always seemed to be there when Elio was, too, and over the course of the next week they resumed their occasional silent greetings (sometimes Elio’s smile was reciprocated, other times not), one time even engaging in some random small-talk about training plans, and, to Elio’s joy and dread had booked the same yoga class one evening. And yes, it was totally nice to watch the man’s behind on the yoga mat in front of him, but Elio also learned that sporting a semi was certainly not convenient in yoga class, and definitely not relaxing! Not to speak of the time he had to retreat to the restrooms to splash cold water on his face because he had watched said buttocks doing squats in tight gym shorts…
Another week passed, and Elio found himself sometimes speaking briefly, maybe even flirting a little with the object of his desire…and then the next time nothing again. No acknowledgment. Nada. Elio’s feelings began to boarder on confused hurt; why would the guy sometimes be so nice, then totally ignore him the next time they saw each other? And then the same all over again? It didn’t make any sense. If he wasn’t interested, then why talk to Elio at all? Or if he simply wanted to be polite, then why was he so cold to Elio on some days, then downright checking him out on others?
Elio was ready to give up and try to defeat his infatuation for good, when fate or the random luck of the universe decided to throw them together in a different context...
One day after his workout routine (again being totally ignored by Mr Sex on Legs) Elio entered the empty locker room, ready for a hot shower and then some well-deserved take-away food on his way home. He heard a soft curse, and to his dismay, when Elio turned around, he realised that HE had come out of the showers, with only a towel wrapped around his hips, drops of water glistering on his defined muscles. Elio blinked and swallowed hard. Whatever he had done to raise the wrath of all the Gods of the universe, he didn’t deserve this punishment any longer.
The clearing of a throat pulled Elio back.
“Uhm, sorry, this might sound absolutely ridiculous, but could you please help me locate my glasses? I swear I placed them on the bench next to the showers, but I’ve been looking for them right there and cannot find them. I’m…well…extremely shortsighted.” He blushed and scratched his neck, looking a little embarrassed.
And then it began to dawn on Elio.
“Sure, absolutely. On the bench you said? Wait here, let me check.” It took Elio exactly one minute to find the glasses not on top but next to where the man had been looking for.
“They must have fallen down. Here you go.” Elio carefully placed the glasses in the man’s outstretched hand, seeing the relieve on his beautiful features.
“Thanks, man, you literally saved my life here.” He put the glasses on, his eyes focussing on Elio, then blushed even harder. “It’s you,” he finally said, surprise in his voice, and something else that Elio couldn’t name.
“Uhm, hi, I’m Elio? We’ve met a couple of times around here?” Elio offered.
“Elio,” the name rolled of his’s tongue more sensually than it should have, leaving Elio slightly breathless. “I’m Oliver. I’m sorry that I didn’t recognise you. I sometimes work out without my contact lenses. My eyes get so dry when I spend too much time in front of the computer or reading, but I also don’t like exercising with my glasses on. Soo….” He trailed of, holding up his hands in an apologetic gesture.
“Wait, are you telling me that you are so blind you cannot find your own glasses, yet walk around the gym, actually working out, without managing to harm yourself?” Elio furrowed his brows.
Oliver snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s actually easy as long as nobody moves any of the equipment. What also helps is that the trainers here all wear the same colours, so I can identify them, and some of the long-term members I recognise by the way they move, and their voices. And again, I only sometimes choose not to wear contacts.”
“Huh.” Elio tilted his head in thought. “So every time I greeted you with a smile or a nod, chances were fifty-fifty you didn’t even see me. Because this happened, you know, and got me really confused.” He crossed his arms over his chest in a challenging move. He had nothing to lose anyway, Elio decided, so why not be honest and confront Oliver about his behaviour?
The blush was back, accompanied by down-cast eyes.
“I’m really sorry. I’m not impolite or anything and didn’t mean to offend you. Especially not…,” Oliver stopped himself. “Anyway. Now you know. Uhm, I guess I should get dressed.” He pointed to a locker somewhere in the back, then turned around and walked away, leaving a puzzled Elio behind.
“…especially not what?” Elio murmured to himself, then shook his head, grabbed his towel, and headed for the showers. When he returned to the locker room, other men were roaming around, talking about this and that, but he couldn’t spot Oliver among them. With a sigh he quickly got dressed and headed outside. It was windy and Elio pulled the hood of his jumper over his still damp curls, debating with himself to skip his take-away plans and directly head home instead. …if only he had gone grocery shopping yesterday… He gave a displeased grunt and turned to his right - and ran straight into someone tall, almost falling back. An arm held on to his wrist to steady his step.
“Jeez, I’m so sorry.” Oliver’s voice flooded over him in pleasant waves.
“Whoa, where did you come from? I didn’t see you,” Elio blinked, legs feeling a bit wobbly, if from the impact of running into Oliver’s muscular chest or the fact that he still had Elio’s wrist in his hand, thumb unconsciously stroking over the pulse on the inside.
“I…uhm…was standing next to the door?”
“Okay.” Elio nodded, his head not yet cooperating enough to even attempt to formulate a coherent answer.
“Are you okay?” Oliver asked and searched Elio’s face with his eyes.
“Yeah, sorry. I was trying to make up my mind over dinner options.”
“And what’s it gonna be?”
“Indian.”
The silence stretched between them, with Oliver still holding on to Elio, Elio staring at Oliver’s face, both obviously wracking their brains for something sensible to say or do, while the close proximity of their bodies and the simple contact of fingers on soft skin seemed to have short-circuited the essential parts for processing languages.
“You cook Indian food?” Oliver finally croaked.
“No. But Mr and Mrs Singh do, and they happen to live opposite my apartment building. And sell food?” Elio stuttered, wanting to smack himself in his face for the utter nonsense that was coming out of his mouth.
“Ah.”
“Yes.”
Suddenly Oliver let go of Elio’s hand and stepped to the side.
“Well, enjoy your dinner then,” Oliver smiled and nodded, then started to walk into the opposite direction. Elio swallowed and shook his head. This simply wouldn’t do.
“Would you like to join me?” Elio called after him. Oliver stopped in his tracks and turned around, pulling the lapels of his coat up against the wind.
“Are you sure?”
Elio nodded, took a deep breath in, and out, and in, and out. “Wait. You did see me nodding, yes?” The wind had picked up speed and was now tugging at his coat, and Elio really wished to get to his food, then home.
Oliver nodded. “I did.” A wide grin appeared on his face, and Elio couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity.
“Well, then, come on! I hate the cold and I’m starving. Andiamo, Americano!”
The sound of Oliver’s laughter warmed Elio from the inside - just like only a short time later his favourite butter chicken dish did, as well as their easily flowing conversation (Elio learned that Oliver was working on his PHD thesis) and playful banter (“You should wear a sign that says, ‘Sorry if I seem to ignore you, I forgot my glasses.’” - “Who said I didn’t simply choose to ignore you?”– “Pff! Why didn’t you give me a sign??” – “I did! I booked the same yoga class and aligned my workout-schedule with yours!”) …and Oliver’s goodbye-hug in front of Elio’s building. Naturally topped off by Elio brushing his lips against Oliver’s cheek to provide him with some extra-warmth on his way home, and a ‘sleep well’-text sent to his phone.