#jazzlover

the soft purr of the ventilator fills the room; caressing every creek and nook of the room.

i watch it on its journey.

from its creator to the paintings adorning the walls.

from there on to the lampshade after which its path turns below to the carpet - before it makes its way back up.

ending its journey by curling snugly around his biceps.

his arms tense as he puts the dried dishes away.

"soo..."

my eyes follow him as he walks back to the old record player, pulling out the box with the records from underneath the side table.

i add the herbs to the pot but my eyes don't leave him.

"what are you playing?"

no response as he puts the record in its place.

then.

the scratch of the needle followed by a gentle hum, signaling the overture of the recording, permeates the air.

it takes only a second to recognize the melody.

his hand holding mine tightly.

the heat of the evening sun.

walking together through rome without a single thing to worry about.

-i could get used to this.

i hope we will be able to.

no responsibilities, no war, just us.

we run through the streets without looking back, only stopping when we find an interesting store, or a sight so beautiful and warm that the only right reaction would be to kiss.

there's always something new to discover in rome.

"wait! let's go there"

i drag him after me inside the record store.

inside, we show each other records with funky designs that we laugh about, with cool rock that we put back down and warm jazz that we cherish.

"ohh, we have to get this one"

i look down from his smile to the record he's holding and laugh.

"yeah, definitely."

he moves back towards me, spinning and something that could only be described as... grooving? which sounds ridiculous - because it is.

i laugh a little as i turn back around stirring the tea so that the milk i'm adding won't burn.

"... and i want you"

his arms find my waist and his chin my shoulder as he starts to sway us, singing in my ear.

"... but i want you to want me too"

his body pressing against mine only intensifies the heat of the roman summer; but i wouldn't change it for the world.

"if you keep doing that the tea will burn."

but he doesn't care - and i can't put into words how happy that makes me. hs entire life he had to follow orders, only ever doing what he was told. this, just dancing and not worrying, is something he couldn't even have dared to do in his dreams just a few years ago when i first met him.

so i let him.

"... but i'm gonna change your mind"

jason spins me around, leading us away from the hearth to the couch.

we dance together all around the room. laughing and singing without a care in the world.

the shyrdak below our feet offers a pleasant coolness in the unwavering heat presented by rome's summer.

"... to share is precious, pure and fair"

the smell of the sitting homemade tiramisu calling our names, cinnamon chai, fresh flower bouquet sitting next to the record player and the intimacy of dancing with your lover at midnight to old jazz. it's prefect; we've finally found home. and know that he feels it too.

"gotta gotta gotta

love me sugar"

with a giggle we lean in; and as much as i wish to only focus on jason i can't help but pray to the gods, thanking them for granting us moments like this and for them to never take it away again.

one last lingering kiss before we lean with our foreheads against each other.