He had everything perfectly timed: he would wake up and go running at five thirty and be finished with the shower by the time Chiara got home from work, that is if she came home instead of staying at Isabel's. In that case the rest of the morning would be skipped and he'd drag his ass to the university to assist some professor in compiling their research into something readable, like the totally unawesome pretentious loudmouth over in Social Sciences.
In the case that Chiara made it home, they'd share breakfast and kisses until he caught a bus and she rearranged the blankets on their bed into something more like a nest to sleep until noon. They both knew she should sleep more and he should stop ghost writing research essays so he could eventually see the name 'Gilbert Bielschmidt' emblazoned across hardcover books everywhere. Maybe even news stands if everyone found out about who he was born as. Especially Elizabeta, that's a trip to the Emergency Room waiting to happen.
Then he'd come home around five o'clock and watch her finish dinner. More kisses would follow as would her medications until he went to sleep around eleven and she'd go to work.
Then they'd start again the next morning.