while they often ran into each other, it usually wasn’t literal, but all the same. at least everyone was okay. ‘wait, he’s here too?’ luca cracked a grin once the other had said jesus. ‘oh shush, you want them! they’re so fresh, so delicious. well eat faster, you’re both so small! i’m just trying to fatten you two up.’
“what...?” tate starts before he catches onto the little joke and rolls his eyes dramatically. it’s an affectionate gesture, though. he enjoys luca’s company, if he’s being honest. “it’s not about wanting them, luca! it’s about needing them. i’m sure they’re superb but -- uh.” he knows fede would be delighted if he brought home some more sweets and, really, he could put on a few pounds himself quite happily. “maybe just a few.”
there’s an honest wholehearted laugh coming out of fede’s lips as he hears tate’s attempt at a joke. he can’t help the way it makes his heart swell to know that his boyfriend goes around saying those things about him out loud. it reminds him that this is not a dream he conjured up. it’s one of the little things that remind him that this, now, this is their reality. his hand is now cupping tate’s chin as he is resting his head against his ever so slightly. damn, once again he needs to remind himself that he is not dreaming. “missed you too, so.fucking.much,” he murmurs back, closing the space between their lips once again, this time more eager to taste, and lick, and breath in his boy.
tate nudges his forehead against fede’s, brushing their noses together sweetly. it’s like being in a new place, a new country, has allowed them to be the ridiculously sappy boyfriends they’d always wanted to be back home in new york. family pressures had stifled them, as had being in such close proximity to dramatic exes and friends that may have judged them for rushing back into things. tate nips at fede’s lower lip with a playful smile blooming on his features. “how lame are we,” he coos affectionately, “acting like it’s been days when it’s hardly a few hours.” of course, he doesn’t mind it. especially not when it means he gets deepened kisses that make his head spin. “how ever will you handle my double lecture on monday?” he teases, barely pulling back enough to whisper against fede’s mouth.
after trying to communicate to the old local for five minutes straight that she didn’t know a lick of italian, mare finally gave up. there seemed to be no way to as the lady rambled on with expressive hand gestures and excited tones, nudging mare every now and then to provoke a reaction. of which, mare now gave her. a laugh, a smile, a roll of her eyes, and she was in the clear. all she wanted was to buy some fruit from the cute food market, but it seemed she had bought a grand tale with her oranges. when a seemingly new customer came up, mare offered them a quick look that read: help me, please.
he had been lingering around the stall for a while -- or what seems like a while when he just wants to hurry home. he’s able to gather what the hold up is as soon as he peeks around towards the vendor and sees her mid-story gesticulating. tate smiles, endeared by the local’s antics, but steps in to do his best to help. “ah, scusa,” he starts, italian poorly accented but relatively confident. “potresti aiutarmi a raccogliere un po 'di frutta per il mio ragazzo?” he looks to the woman as the sweet vendor bustles away to complete his request. “if you give ilaria an inch, she’ll take a mile,” he advises playfully.
❝ hold on — just, stay RIGHT THERE. ❞ she instructed to the person in front of her, tone just ever so slightly demanding but with an underlying softness, camera already raised to snap the photo. for much of the day she’d been busy finishing a painting that needed to be sent out to a buyer ASAP. and though skye had cleaned herself up before heading out, for the most part, there was still some evidence as to what she’d been up to, in the form of vibrantly colored flowers painted across her left hand. setting sun had currently been casting a dancing glow through the city, and because she was the type to see beauty in everything, the scenery that preceded her was too good of a moment not to capture. even if it meant catching the other off guard in the process, which hey, sometimes made for the BEST photos. ❝ sorry, the lighting was just too perfect, but you can move now if you like. ❞ said with a light chuckle.
tate’s far more accustomed to being the creator of the art, rather than its subject so he feels immediately out of his element being asked to ‘pose’. he still indulges her request -- he’s not about to deny a fellow artist their inspiration, even if it’s taken his form for unknown reasons. “i’ll remember this moment if that singular photo leads to my discovery as italy’s next top model,” tate teases, tousling his hands through his hair with a light chuckle. “i mean, bit offended that you’re more impressed with the lighting than with my looks but my ego will take the hit. somehow, i’ll survive.”
“nope, it’s all good,” he tells tate, giving him a small smile and squeezing his hand. “ci vediamo lunedì,” he tells his new friend, waving his free hand in his direction as he starts making his way home. this is what his life looks like now, dropping of his boyfriend at school in the mornings, picking him up in the evenings, cooking the most delicious dinners for him every night. if he thinks about it, his life now pretty much consists on making sure tate is happy. and fede can’t think of a better way of spending his days. “what awesome new thing did you learn today, honey?” he asks, genuinely interested. fede is addicted to the way his boyfriend’s eyes light up every time he talks about art. “but first,” he stops in his tracks, bringing his free hand to tate’s chin, pulling him towards him and kissing him on the lips.
even if it had been pouring rain, tate would think his life idyllic. he’s walking through the beautiful italian streets with his beautiful italian boyfriend after a day full of classes he actually enjoys. sure, he feels a little bad about not bringing in any income to support their humble living arrangements nor fede’s business venture but he’s been assured that this is the way fede wants it too. “we’ve moved onto the romanticism movement in my history course -- made an awful joke about knowing all about the romantics since i have one living at home and all.” his thumb swipes across fede’s knuckles at the light tease and he allows the other to draw him to a stop. the kiss makes his toes curl as if it’d been their first, happy little goosebumps breaking out on his skin. he leans up into it, barely breaking apart to murmur against the line of fede’s lips, “missed you.”
“prendi una.” fede is currently offering the school’s guard a cigarette as he readies to light up his own. this has become part of his evening routine. after spending all day in meetings for his trattoria, federico makes sure to arrive ten minutes before tate’s classes are over, just for the sake of sharing a cigarette with the school’s guard. it’s an unlikely bond, but one that reminds fede of italy’s delightful hospitality and one of the reasons why he decided to stay. he’s almost done telling lazzaro about this revolutionary pasta machine when he spots tate making his way over and a smile immediately brights up his face.
living in italy with fede has changed tate’s entire demeanor. gone is the grumpy, lovelost boy who barely begrudged a smile after a grueling day of business school. instead, he’s been replaced by a radiant, happier version of himself who is quick with a grin and a way, one who walks with a pep in his step as he crosses the courtyard to his boyfriend. fede’s always brought out the best in tate, he thinks. only now, it’s being allowed to flourish and grow without any boundaries. “tesoro!” he calls out sweetly before hurrying over the last few steps to press a kiss to fede’s cheek. “hope you haven’t been waiting long?” tate flashes a smile between his fede to the guard, all while tangling his fingers with fede’s, giving his hand a squeeze.
some would argue it’s not biking weather, but it wasn’t raining and with a jacket, he could make do. luca parked his bike against a storefront, gazing inside and wondering if his bike would be safe here. he still thought about it as he turned on his heel to head inside, smashing fronts with someone almost as quickly as he’d turned. ‘cazzo! mi dispiace, i’m sorry! i wasn’t looking. are you alright? i have.. uh,’ he rummaged through his bag, pulling out a pair of mini éclairs, ‘i can offer my newest éclairs? they’re vanilla bean with a dark chocolate top. some of my best, i really am sorry.’
to be fair to luca, tate had been thoroughly distracted by his phone. texting fede tended to take up his fullest attentions, leaving little for his surroundings. the collision is just as much his fault as it is the others so he very nearly apologizes in sync. “jesus,” he whispers under his breath, rubbing his knocked shoulder and blinking at his school acquaintance who was quickly graduating to the title of friend. “why are you always trying to feed me?” tate teases once he’s recovered from the sudden impact, flashing a quick smile. “i don’t think fede and i have finished your last batch of sweets!”
it is i, your friendly neighborhood admin, here to bring you a trash intro for my trash son. below the cut, you’ll find a little more about tate but the main point is that he’s literally migrating from a completely diff rp so if you scroll back far enough to find posts, that’s why! he’ll be starting fresh here at firenze and i’m, honestly, really excited about it! without further ado...
〚 timotheé chalamet, cismale, he/him, nineteen 〛🌹 TATUM VAN BUREN has found themselves in florence, italy since FEBRUARY of 2019 and are currently AN ART STUDENT. people close to them would describe them as LAIDBACK but also UNCOUTH. maybe that’s why they’re known as the DIRTBAG. a rumor is going around that HE RAN AWAY FROM HOME WITH HIS BOYFRIEND. – celia, 24, she/her, cst
PAST
tatum van buren was born into a life of luxury and privilege in the upper east side, new york. he was the youngest of SIX children, having five older sisters to compete with for parental attention that, frankly, none of them won in the end
tate, as the only van buren son under a bullshit patriarchal family head, was kinda lowkey expected to take over the family business
he never loved the idea -- he was a creative soul and would much rather be doodling than doing anything productive or academic related
his love of art would be made to flourish in secret. his sisters were allowed to pursue their interests but he was forced into a business mindset practically from birth.
it put a resentment in him towards his family which would be left to fester into this dangerous apathy that very much gave him the label of the dirtbag
alternate titles he’d take on over the years: the black sheep, the family disappointment, the skater boy, the troublemaker
basically as soon as he knew how, tate was acting out but in very subtle ways. like, he stated to smoke (first cigarettes, then he developed a love of weed) or stay out all night at a local skatepark nowhere near the upper crust neighborhood
he’d hideout at family functions or, if he couldn’t hide, he’d get absolutely wasted on expensive wine
he love love LOVES graffiti and tagging -- art AND rebellion? sign him up
he started dating early high school to try and get away from his family and the pressure they put on him. but after a pretty big misstep that almost put him off the idea of love altogether, he found his now-current boyfriend
the brief summary of their past is that they dated first as an act of rebellion -- tate was expected to have some prissy little ues girlfriend and so bringing a boy around was a shocker. however, tate fell fast and hard in love so what started as a joke became real very very quickly. his boyfriend has ties to italy so they’d run away to a villa in northern italy, just to be alone together. it was very impassioned.
they’d go through a hard spell in the middle where tate’s fear of love broke them up and his ex moved on fast enough to make tate very insecure about his importance as a lover. there’s a whole complicated timeframe where they’re apart but this is already getting long. so!
basically, his ex’s relationship fell through and tate took it as a sign. he needed to make things right again and, frankly, he believed them to be soulmates. there’s no one else that made him feel as much as this boy and so he made his amends.
they got back together on valentine’s day and its been like they never were apart. if you ask tate, his heart’s belonged to his boyfriend since they FIRST started dating -- the breakup in the middle forgotten.
sometime last month they took off on another of their italian vacations, happy to escape from their family and the judgement that was going along with them getting back together so suddenly.
they just... never went home. they’re in kind of a honeymoon stage but have picked out a crummy apartment type place to live together (both being cut off by their families once they realized they weren’t coming back)
PERSONALITY & PASSIONS
curses a lot, always high, causes mayhem just for fun
missing his siblings but is also known for being a bit reckless and spontaneous so this departure isn’t necessarily surprising
the only thing he cares about more than blood is.... art
like underneath the haze of smoke is a little slave to the aesthetics
mostly loves sketching, watercolor and digital art but has a passion for really any medium
he’s also really fcking good at it. his current boyfriend always was super supportive of it and has agreed to do most of the work keeping a roof above their heads to allow tate to enroll in art school.
tate was already working on an art degree in secret in ny so he’s transferring credits and will be enrolled by now.
very chill & laidback. he used to be really grumpy and moody but italy brings out the best in him. plus he’s in love so he’s kind of a dumb sappy kid
uncouth because of the aforementioned potty mouth but he’s also just a little... rough and tumble, always covered in paints and dirt / scrapes from skateboarding. also never adopted that pristine rich person’s livelihood.
MISC
5′9 and very scrawny
can play piano because he had full on lessons but also guitar bc he got a kid in high school to teach him
fede lets himself be guided by tate. his heart feels like it’s beating its way out of his chest, and not in a good way. anguish is starting to engulf him as he waits for the worst to happen. his head is already rushing with images of tate laughing at him, laughing at how stupid he’s being for falling for it again, and then walking out of the arboretum like nothing happened. he’s now sitting on the exact same spot where he watched tate walk out of his life and his brain is sending all kinds of red flags, urging him to walk out first. but his heart is telling him to stay, to see this through. just in case this is not some sick joke. in case this is the fresh start they both so irremediably need. after all, he’d still trust him with his life.
fede looks up, his gaze fixed intently on his boy. right now, tate has his full undivided attention. the world might be ending outside and fede wouldn’t even notice. he’s listening earnestly and there’s bits and pieces of tate’s speech staying with him: i never planned on hurting you and i’ve regretted it every single day since. fede gives him a soft smile, he doesn’t need to think about it too much. he knows it’s all true. in a way, fede has always known. as tate’s words keep filling up the room, images of a condo in brooklyn and a vintage ring buried deep in his closet come to mind. fede feels the knot in his throat getting tighter and tighter and it only makes it harder to look at tate. he is slowly crouching down, hiding his head in his hands. it’s almost eerie how he’s standing in the exact same position than last time. but now his heart is not broken. maybe overwhelmed would be a better word to describe it. overwhelmed as he reflects on back then, on how he was ready to jump into a future with tate. he was ready to face every single obstacle thrown their way, as long as he had his boy by his side. that still hasn’t changed, he realizes now.
for a moment, fede lets the silence fill up the room. his eyes are filled with tears now and he knows there’s no way of hiding them from tate. slowly, he’s getting up from his seat by the fountain and closing the space between them, his hands on both sides of tate’s face, caressing soft skin. “you know you broke my heart when you decided to leave me, i don’t need to tell you that,” he starts. his voice is raspy as he’s willing it to come out through the knots in his throat. “but i knew that in another place in the universe, we were together. for eternity. and that thought would get me through every time your absence felt like too much. i was always sure that somewhere, there was a tate and a fede, living together in a spacious apartment with big white walls and lots of natural light. and they were happy. so fucking happy.” a small laugh escapes from fede’s lips as he wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’s being too specific. too late now. “if i’m honest, i had already lost hope that that could actually be our reality one day. and now, i don’t wanna scare you off talking about the future, i don’t need that anymore. we can take it day by day, and if one day we find ourselves gray and old together, then so be it.” resting his forehead against tate’s, fede takes one deep breath before whispering: “sei l'uomo della mia vita. and i have never stopped loving you. not even when you made it so fucking hard, you dumbshit.”
there’s a very brief, but very real, moment of panic where tate thinks he’s messed up again. fede looks teary and its hard for him to discern if it’s for good reasons or for bad. it doesn’t help that he’s a living recreation of that day, head in his hands and eyes misting over. tate’s breath hitches and he doesn’t dare let it out until fede’s gaze is raised back onto him. tate’s careful not to let his heart break; he’s already gone through that agony the day he walked out and he’s scared -- terrified, even -- that it’s going to happen again. but then fede’s hands are on him and all the tension leaves his body.
his own hands find fede’s neck, resting lightly on either side. touching for the sake of touching. they’re connected, him and this beautiful boy in front of him. he thinks they always have been. he gives fede’s words a nod of acknowledgement; he knows he did him wrong the first time they broke up. he won’t be making that mistake ever again. he can’t let go. “i want to be together in this universe,” tate agrees in a voice that’s thick with emotion. fede’s painting a picture for him of a domesticity he’s never even allowed himself to consider. before fede, tate didn’t want a forever. now it’s the only thing that would make him this happy.
“maybe i need it now,” tate whispers, finally allowing himself to smile as he realizes fede’s tears aren’t born of sadness but, rather, relief. sweet, beautiful, well deserved relief. “hope it doesn’t scare you off but i’m in this now, fede greco. i’ll be in this today and tomorrow and the days after that.” he nudges their noses together softly, trying not to get too greedy with fede’s touch now that he’s got it again. the little phrases of italian he knows are all thanks to their time together, both here in new york and at the greco’s italian villa. he knows some to whisper in return and curls in closer to fede to do so.
“mio angelo,” he hums, a tender edge to his voice. “will you have me then? as yours, officially?” his eyes half close, taking in the sounds and smells of the garden paradise around them, even in the middle of winter. “i want to pick up where we left off. i want to do this right, please.”
