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The summer sun in Italy is always blazing, even somewhat scorching. But when it merges with the sea wind – it’s a new kind of happiness. It weaves through your hair, and the hair, in turn, soaks up the salty moisture. This warm wind sneaks under t-shirts, gently skimming over tanned skin. And the leaves on the olive trees whisper something, almost maternally. The green grass pleasantly tickles bare ankles, shod in old, rather worn-out sneakers. The very same ones that Kimi’s older brother wore when he was a teenager.
Kimi loved summer with all his heart, cherished every moment. It was as if he was afraid of missing something important, so he clung to every second or even every millisecond. And now, lying on a soft green blanket of grass, he was quietly humming another silly Taylor Swift’s song under his breath. It seemed to be ‘Style’. The light, unobtrusive melody was catchy, it had wormed its way into his brain. A banal text about an equally banal and silly love.
He couldn’t remember when listening to her songs had become a habit. Perhaps it started with one silly smile. Perhaps with one ride on an old red bicycle. Perhaps with one set of scraped knees, covered with equally bright and funny children’s dinosaur band-aids. Perhaps after night-time escapades to look at the clear, starry sky. Or that’s because of stupid playlist, split between two people, when wired headphones were connected to an old MP3 player.
Maybe.
Kimi cherished every such memory because… it was all Ollie. His best friend, a wonderful person, and probably a little (just a tiny bit) the love of his life. And it was absurdly stupid.
Stupid to laugh out loud at completely unfunny jokes. Stupid to want to bury his palm in someone else’s fluffy hair. To watch Ollie smile, revealing his rabbit-like teeth. Or how he scrunches his nose when trying to hide his displeasure, though deep down he’s more amused than anything by everything that’s happening. Ollie always has blades of grass stuck in his hair when they lie down and get their clothes dirty on the ground.
And so what if their moms scold boys when they hang the re-washed laundry back on the clotheslines stretched between poles. Moms exchange glances over the fence, sometimes even discussing their hopeless sons. The wind carries the smell of laundry detergent across the yards, that characteristic cotton scent. It mixes with the salty air, making your head spin with a certain pleasure.
And while the parents are busy complaining, Kimi and Ollie will roam the province on their old bicycles and later steal neighbours’ lemons. Only God knows why they need them in such quantities, but for these two, there was a magic in the citrus smell emanating from the fruit. After all, so many things can be made from lemons! Be it a tart or lemonade, or you could just add it to still-hot tea.
“They look like little suns, only they grow on trees,” Bearman would declare, plucking another lemon from a branch.
And Kimi, as usual, would nod, smile slightly, and stuff the offered fruit into his backpack.
And “yes,” Oliver loved Taylor Swift’s songs to distraction. He awaited every album impatiently, eagerly telling all the facts about the singer. And it didn’t matter to Antonelli that he’d heard it all, like, a hundred times already. If needed, he would listen for the hundred and first time.
“Aha!” A figure loomed over him, shielding Kimi’s face from the direct sunlight. “Knew I’d find you here.”
“You’re blocking my sun,” Kimi opened his eyes to look at Ollie, who was beaming with happiness. As if he himself were the sun.
“Are you at least using SPF?”
"No, I want to die of melanoma," said Kimi, then grinned slyly at his friend's disapproving face. "Kidding, kidding. Of course I used it."
"You're impossible."
"I know. But you like it."
Ollie rolled his eyes in jest and then lay down beside him anyway. He slid a pair of sunglasses onto his nose—ones that were far too big and ridiculously funny. Kimi smiled at the sight, and the butterflies in his stomach fluttered back to life. All because Ollie's lightly tanned arm was touching his. Because Kimi could smell that subtle, familiar cologne. Simply because Ollie was right there next to him.
It was impossible not to fall for the British boy. It had been impossible from the moment the Bearman’s family arrived in their province many years ago. Back when the grass seemed even greener and the trees even taller. His mom had announced she wanted to welcome the new neighbors and had dragged Kimi along with her. She'd thrust a basket of fruit into his hands, so heavy it nearly outweighed the boy himself.
And then came the fateful knock on the gate. A boy's laughter echoed from behind the fence as he rushed to open it. He was a little taller than Kimi, with a radiant smile and eyes shining with genuine happiness.
"Hello, my name is Ollie," the boy announced in broken Italian.
"Hello, we're your neighbors. We brought you a small housewarming gift. Can we speak to your parents?"
The boy nodded and ushered the guests in, yelling, "Mum! Mum! The neighbors are here!" The only thought in Kimi's head was that this Ollie must have a motor installed in his back. The heavy fruit basket was pulling him down, and finally, it slipped from his weakening grip. He waited for his mom to scold him, to say that the gift for their new neighbors was now scattered on the ground, some of the fruit bruised. But it didn't happen, because that same Ollie was already rushing over to Kimi.
"It's okay! I'm sure they're still good. We'll wash them, and they'll be fine!" he said, before hurrying to help a distraught Antonelli, who was on the verge of tears.
And, truth be told, he was crying. Sobbing uncontrollably, just like a little girl.
"Why are you crying?" Ollie asked, blinking his eyes in surprise. In that moment, to Kimi, this new neighbor boy looked like Bambi. Oliver patted his head, his fingers almost getting tangled in the Italian's curls. "We'll pick it all up. It's no big deal."
Kimi wiped his tears and his runny nose on the sleeve of his sweater, then lifted his tear-filled eyes to Ollie. The other boy was still smiling, revealing his front teeth, which had apparently only recently changed from baby teeth to adult ones.
"Want me to show you my remote-control car collection later? Oh! Or maybe you wanna see my super-cool bike? We found it in the shed; I think it's super old," the boy chattered away in that same broken Italian, occasionally mixing in words from his native English.
And even though Kimi didn't understand everything this hyperactive kid was saying, he smiled anyway. Oliver was strange, perhaps laughably strange. But on that day, seven-year-old Kimi realized one thing: this neighbor boy was never going to leave him alone.
Ollie, of course, showed him his entire car collection and his old, ancient-dust-covered red bicycle. Even a couple of years later, he'd be tearing through the streets of their little province with Kimi on the handlebars. On that very bicycle, they would go to steal those famous lemons.
And somewhere around the age of twelve, the Italian boy would realize that tiny white flowers of his first adolescent love were blossoming in his chest. It happened when Ollie's eyes reflected the starry sky, when they looked like milk chocolate. Maybe Kimi was that chocolate, melting under the scorching sunlight that seemed to radiate from Ollie himself.
Even now, lying on the grass with only the sound of the sea and the rustle of leaves around them—Kimi was melting from Oliver's mere presence beside him. And Ollie, without a word, silently offered him an earbud. You didn't need to be Sherlock Holmes to guess what music Bearman would play.
"Taylor Swift again? Do you realize that because of your obsession, my playlist is slowly turning into a collection of her songs too?" Kimi turned his head to look at Ollie, who, it turned out, had been watching his friend's profile the whole time.
And again... Again, he was smiling like a maniac.
"Of course I know. You were singing 'Style' when you thought you were alone," Oliver said, his voice calm and sending shivers under Kimi's skin. "And you said you didn't like that song."
"Oh, shut up!" Kimi flushed, shoving his friend and rolling away slightly. Otherwise, he'd burn up from shame and embarrassment. That bastard!
He was laughing! Laughing so loud the entire province could probably hear him. Berman scooted closer and pulled Kimi into a hug. Kimi squirmed, terrified that if Ollie was this close, he'd hear just how fast his heart was beating.
"Qu'est-ce que tu me fais, Kimi?" Ollie whispered as Antonelli finally stopped struggling.
"Is that French?"
"Yeah, felt like learning another language. Why? Worried I'll say something dirty and you won't even know?" The guy's breath was hot on Kimi's neck as he still held him from behind.
'I'm afraid my heart can't handle another cardiac arrest from the sound of that language on your lips.'
"Sei uno stronzo, Oliver. Solo un idiota assoluto," Kimi cursed under his breath. "Attento a come parli!"
"Well, what should I do then?" Ollie almost forcefully turned Kimi to face him. He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head and looked straight at the Italian. "Maybe this?"
And God, Kimi could have sworn his little Italian heart was going to give out. Ollie's face was too close to his. His lips were too close to Kimi's. And maybe they would have kissed if Kimi hadn't put his palm over Ollie's mouth, creating a barrier.
Then he ran for it, while Oliver howled with laughter, watching Kimi, red as a tomato, sprint away.
Back home, Antonelli was having another full-blown crisis. He stood under a cold shower, trying to wash the heat from his body. He screamed into his pillow, fully aware of the utter stupidity of his actions.
They had almost kissed...
He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. To just disappear from this miserable life for a while. At least until Ollie forgot this ever happened. Kimi wanted to believe his best friend felt something too, but common sense screamed that it was all just a joke. There was no way someone like Ollie could ever like someone like Kimi. Not in this lifetime.
He locked himself in his room, only occasionally venturing into the yard to soak up the summer sun. He’d pet the big ginger cat that stretched out across his lap, occupying all of Kimi's attention. But one day, the moment he spotted a familiar head of fluffy hair over the fence, he immediately bolted.
Again.
And Oliver, with a mixture of surprise and amusement, just smiled and yelled "Tesoro!" at Kimi's retreating back. Kimi froze instantly, trying to process what he'd just heard. He was afraid to turn and face Oliver. Afraid to look into those chocolate-brown eyes again. His ears instantly flushed red, and his fingers nervously picked at the hem of his already stretched-out t-shirt.
"Stay right there!" Ollie shouted from his yard before suddenly running off somewhere.
He practically burst into the Antonelli family's yard, slightly out of breath from the sudden sprint. And now Bearman was standing in front of Kimi again, wearing the goofiest smile. Did it ever actually leave his face? Antonelli kept his head down, focusing on his trembling fingers, biting his lower lip.
"Why are you avoiding me?" Oliver's voice was almost a whisper, tinged with sadness. "Kimi, why?"
Why?
"Look at me, please," and when Kimi didn't react, lost in a cocoon of his own tangled thoughts, Berman gently lifted Kimi's chin with his fingertips. Kimi still refused to meet his gaze. "Did I say something wrong? Did I do something wrong?"
No. Maybe everything was wrong. Maybe Kimi was just a coward. And what was he supposed to say? That he'd been in love with his best friend for years? That the slightest touch or the low rumble of Ollie's voice made him lose his mind? That he had, God forgive him, very indecent dreams (damn this puberty) featuring Oliver? What?
"Kimi, look me in the eyes."
That commanding tone finally snapped him out of his trance. Ollie's gaze was still warm, though his nose was scrunched up in that familiar way it did when he was unhappy with how things were going.
"You're gonna get wrinkles on your nose if you keep doing th—"
He didn't get to finish the word, because Ollie grabbed him by the collar of his t-shirt, pulled him closer, and kissed him. Gently, sensually, as if Kimi were made of glass. As if one wrong move would break him. Kimi let out a flustered, muffled sound, staring at Ollie's relaxed face. His eyes were closed, his long lashes barely fluttering, and Kimi could finally make out the faint freckles scattered across Olli’s nose. Berman pulled back, looked at Kimi, and suddenly seemed to feel like a fool. His expression was sad, dimmed. Until... Until Kimi kissed Oliver back.
He allowed himself to cup Ollie's face in both his hands. Ollie, in turn, draped his arms over Kimi's shoulders with a practiced ease. And no, it wasn't like people describe in their books. There were no stereotypical fireworks or butterflies in stomach. Just a warm feeling spreading through his chest. It was like the lemon tea they loved to drink every day, even on the hottest day of the year. Or like a homemade pie, fresh from the oven. Maybe this is what home feels like.
It doesn't have a fixed location. It's just a place, a feeling. Somewhere you're always welcome, somewhere you'll always be loved.
"Kimi," Ollie whispered, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against Kimi's.
"Let me just enjoy this," Kimi murmured, pressing his index finger gently against Ollie's lips.
"You're impossible."
"Yeah, I know."
"But even so... I never stopped loving you. Not for a single moment in all these ten years," Berman added softly. Kimi's eyes widened in sheer disbelief.
"Ten years?!"
"Yes," Ollie replied with a tender smile, his slightly prominent front teeth on full display. "From the very moment you walked into our yard with your mom... and you were crying like a little girl."
"And I'm the impossible one?! Oliver James Bearman! Ten years!" Kimi covered his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "And here I was, thinking I was the lovesick fool."
Ollie threw his head back and laughed wholeheartedly, pulling Kimi even closer into a tight, crushing embrace.
"I think we're both a pair of lovesick idiots."