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chien_rouge525{New Year’s Eve}
Like any other year, the city was brightly decorated with tons of paraphernalia. Over the air hung the feeling of beginning and the end of something everyone would one day look back to and laugh at the days of folly. For others, it was the start of adulthood. Drinks are out, disco music blasting in speakers. Christmas lights still remained in the plaza and along with the sounds of clanking glasses and cheery laughs echoed the sounds of the church bells signaling the start of the first Eucharistic celebration of the year. Fireplaces were a lot warmer as family members gathered around it to hear of stories from the wise grandma from just across the street all while they sit in wait for the colorful flashes of chemicals to light up the sky. For the apartment, New Year meant the rest of the day were spent actively planning for the night of the celebration of the coming of the new year. Most of those that had left on Christmas for vacation had returned just to witness the spectacular display of fireworks which was to be released on the exact hour of 12 midnight from the city hall. It was an annual tradition those in the building for them to have a sort of party of their own while the rest of the city were out on the streets having their own disco.
In the midst of this, Lovino sat by his room window, alone and just gazing at the stars above. From below his window, outside of the apartment building, he sees the cheery bunch from his apartment, laughing and lolly-gagging on jokes and having a good time. Lovino looked away and continued staring aimlessly toward the skies. Whether he’d admit it or not, he had been looking forward to tonight as it would be his first together with all of them not to mention he hadn’t been that alone as he was before. And at least for once, since that time, he would feel that he wasn’t genuinely alone. He would go down there if there was nothing to stop him, for among the group chattering outside was the tomato bastard being his usual bastardly sunshine shit self. He had neither the courage nor the mood to talk to him let alone make eye contact with him. He was frustrated at having the capacity to get mad over something so petty. Heck, it wasn’t even something to be mad about. His eyebrows scrunched to form a V-shape as the questions flow. Why was he really affected by the whole thing? Normally, you’d just shrug it off and wait for the other to open to you right? Why was it bothering him so much to the point that he actually broke his promise to Liz to go to this party? It was ruining all his plans to actually mingle with people, not that he really wanted to, but it was just that he made the same promise to Liz at some point to at least make some friends. He shouldn’t be up here sulking. He should be down there drinking the night away then waking up the next morning, naked and wasted by the side of the road along with the others who occupied the building. He stood up and strode toward his bedroom and grabbed the nearest trousers he could find and starting dressing in it. He combed his hair, made himself look attractive and took out from the fridge the meal he had made for himself to eat during the fireworks display. After making sure he had unplugged everything, he grabbed his keys and strode towards the door. Little did he know of the surprise that awaited him at the foot of his door.
Toni’s POV
Hi there~! It’s me, Toni! As of the moment, I’m with friends from the building I’m living in. I forgot the name of out apartment, but I still would like you to know something about it. First off, it’s here in Italy. And although I’m Spanish for some reason, I could understand what everyone was saying here. Plus they’re all nice and they make good pizza and spaghetti with lots and lots of tomatoes~. Oh. How I love tomatoes. They’re red and delicious and juicy and healthy. AND RED! The same color as one of the colors on my country’s flag. Oh back to the apartment. Sorry, I chatter a lot and usually tend to stray from the topic. I actually have this very close friend of mine who lives in the same building. His name is Gilbert. He’s German. Actually, he says he’s Prussian but I still don’t understand the difference between German and Prussian as they are one and the same country. Or are they. He lives on the fifth floor. Or is it the fourth floor? I don’t really know what floor since it’s technically the fourth floor but for some reason the floors skipped from 3rd to 5th floor. Kiku, a Japanese who lives on the second floor, same as me, told me that the number 4 was an unlucky number along with 3, and 13, but I really don’t know. Wait, I’m talking about other things again. The apartment has 4 floors with all the occupants. The fifth floor is the home of the owners, an Austro-Hungarian couple. A weird bunch they are. The husband, an Austrian named Roderich Edelstein has that air of nobility and he plays the piano very well too while his wife, Elizabeth Hedevary, or what we call her as Liz or Eliza is a Hungarian with an iron fist to match that of any male’s own. Unbeknownst to everyone, this apartment was created for a certain reason. But that’s not for me to tell now is it? The rest of the rooms are for the occupants. One thing about it is that the occupants are all from different countries. What are the odds, si? There is one from France, my friend Francis the cook with his boyfriend from Great Britain, Arthur Kirkland and their kids Alfred and Matthew who were both adopted from different countries as well. The way those two got together is really interesting and quite the drama. Even I had to admit, their romance was a lot more dramatic than all the Spanish soaps I used to watch back at home, and that was a lot, I tell you. Oh! And there is this very VERY good friend of mine, Lovino!
Ayayay Lovinito~ mi corazon. He is a blessing in disguise.
It was a funny scene how the two of us met thought I’ve known he’s been living here since...well since he got here. I know what time he comes home from work and what he does in his free time (which was mostly staring out his balcony window). I’d always wonder about him whenever he’d come out the balcony, I would secretly stare at him from inside my bedroom. He’d always look so beautiful with the hot Italian sun draped all over him in the early mornings as he sipped from his cup and when the moon shone on him, he looked like something out of a painting. Like an angel that had been mistaken for a mere human. He looked so pure and innocent, his eyes shone brighter than the stars. Sabo, sabo. I sound like a stalker and that the words I have used to describe him may sound overused and cliche. But the loss of words is only normal of a man who could not use mere words to express his profound beauty. Before I knew it, he was more than just a neighbor. He was my unattainable dream, so close yet so far away. I tried many times to capture his attention. Timing his arrival in the apartment with my guitar playing, I even went so far as to deliberately hide in his room when Arthur came running to me when I could run to just about anyone else’s room. But I had no other option as I was tired of merely watching from my window. Oh, how I recall the time I finally saw him face to face. I lost the words I’ve always wanted to say. He was even more beautiful up close. I’ve heard him talking to Eliza before and I noted how pretty his voice sounded. So manly and yet so gentle with a sort of sadness. When I sat shaking at one corner of his room, I listened to the sweet tone of his English mixed with a touch of Italian. It was like a song of the early morning birds in sweet Sta. Anna. I could’ve sworn I could see the land from where I was born. It was that beautiful. So when we were alone, I could hardly contain myself and jumped from behind. In the many days that were to come, I become fondly attached to him. “I want to hear him talk more.” was what I thought was the reason I remained so close. But my feelings were not so easily deceived as I found myself falling for the young hot-blooded South Italian. He charmed me without even realizing it. His occasional lapses and stutters whenever I called him ‘cute’ and how he’d blow a fuse and turn completely red whenever I called him ‘Lovi.’ Every morning, during work days, I would lie in wait in front of my door to happily greet him with a hug even if I knew he was there to criticize me for the bottle of tomato juice I made for him to bring to the office. I also knew how every time I’d hug him, I’d leave a bit of my fresh-farm scent so he had this bottle of perfume ready if anyone asked him what perfume he was wearing. Sometimes I wish he’d say he was hugged for me, though. Ao that everyone from his workplace knew how much I treasured him and that he wasn’t the distant person everyone thought he was. I noticed this long before that he’d come home alone. Isn’t it normal for a person to be brought home by friends? I thought it was because they had parted somewhere along the way, but when Liz told me the story of how he felt left out by his family, I began to understand what he really wanted. Thus, I had put it upon myself to make him feel that the rest of the world may have rejected him, but I happen to be here ready to be his shoulder. I was there for the friendship. Who knew I would be asking for more?
So when he started to distance himself from me, I thought I had done something wrong. Once, I tried to talk to him, but he quickly turned around and dashed for his bedroom door. Then this other time, I bumped into him coincidentally while talking to Eliza.My face literally lit up with joy. But that quickly fell when he kept talking to Liz but paid absolutely no attention to me. It’s been haunting me for a while and the one person I was sure knew why wouldn’t even tell me. It’s always been this way. Always me being the last one to know, being given the “it’s for your own good” reason. Well, I was done with it.
I’m sick and tired of it. For once, I don’t want to be the Antonio everyone thought I was.
“Hey, Toni! Drink up, man! It’s the eve of the new year and you’re celebrating it with the awesome ME!” Strong arms were around me and the smell of root beer pierced my nostrils. Gilbert the ‘Awesome’ Prussian or so he calls himself, readily handed over to me a full glass of sparkling, bubbling root beer as he laughed at the gags that the other apartment dwellers were doing. He turns to me half panting from all the laughing. “Jeez Toni, what’s with all the gloom? You know I can’t stand gloom.”
“Lo siento, amigo.” I took glass he had offered me and chugged all the contents in one shot. Once I was done, the others clapped and cheered at my “manly” act. “Hand me the next batch, Gil~! It’s the season to be wasted!”
“Yeah! That’s the spirit! Here have some of this bad boy. This comes all the way from my motherland. Drink up, my friend.” he offers me another glass, and I take it, chugging down more root beer until all I could see was swirling and darkness.
Like any other year, the city was brightly decorated with tons of paraphernalia. Over the air hung the feeling of beginning and the end of something everyone would one day look back to and laugh at the days of folly. For others, it was the start of adulthood. Drinks are out, disco music blasting in speakers. Christmas lights still remained in the plaza and along with the sounds of clanking glasses and cheery laughs echoed the sounds of the church bells signaling the start of the first Eucharistic celebration of the year. Fireplaces were a lot warmer as family members gathered around it to hear of stories from the wise grandma from just across the street all while they sit in wait for the colorful flashes of chemicals to light up the sky. For the apartment, New Year meant the rest of the day were spent actively planning for the night of the celebration of the coming of the new year. Most of those that had left on Christmas for vacation had returned just to witness the spectacular display of fireworks which was to be released on the exact hour of 12 midnight from the city hall. It was an annual tradition those in the building for them to have a sort of party of their own while the rest of the city were out on the streets having their own disco.
In the midst of this, Lovino sat by his room window, alone and just gazing at the stars above. From below his window, outside of the apartment building, he sees the cheery bunch from his apartment, laughing and lolly-gagging on jokes and having a good time. Lovino looked away and continued staring aimlessly toward the skies. Whether he’d admit it or not, he had been looking forward to tonight as it would be his first together with all of them not to mention he hadn’t been that alone as he was before. And at least for once, since that time, he would feel that he wasn’t genuinely alone. He would go down there if there was nothing to stop him, for among the group chattering outside was the tomato bastard being his usual bastardly sunshine shit self. He had neither the courage nor the mood to talk to him let alone make eye contact with him. He was frustrated at having the capacity to get mad over something so petty. Heck, it wasn’t even something to be mad about. His eyebrows scrunched to form a V-shape as the questions flow. Why was he really affected by the whole thing? Normally, you’d just shrug it off and wait for the other to open to you right? Why was it bothering him so much to the point that he actually broke his promise to Liz to go to this party? It was ruining all his plans to actually mingle with people, not that he really wanted to, but it was just that he made the same promise to Liz at some point to at least make some friends. He shouldn’t be up here sulking. He should be down there drinking the night away then waking up the next morning, naked and wasted by the side of the road along with the others who occupied the building. He stood up and strode toward his bedroom and grabbed the nearest trousers he could find and starting dressing in it. He combed his hair, made himself look attractive and took out from the fridge the meal he had made for himself to eat during the fireworks display. After making sure he had unplugged everything, he grabbed his keys and strode towards the door. Little did he know of the surprise that awaited him at the foot of his door.
Toni’s POV
Hi there~! It’s me, Toni! As of the moment, I’m with friends from the building I’m living in. I forgot the name of out apartment, but I still would like you to know something about it. First off, it’s here in Italy. And although I’m Spanish for some reason, I could understand what everyone was saying here. Plus they’re all nice and they make good pizza and spaghetti with lots and lots of tomatoes~. Oh. How I love tomatoes. They’re red and delicious and juicy and healthy. AND RED! The same color as one of the colors on my country’s flag. Oh back to the apartment. Sorry, I chatter a lot and usually tend to stray from the topic. I actually have this very close friend of mine who lives in the same building. His name is Gilbert. He’s German. Actually, he says he’s Prussian but I still don’t understand the difference between German and Prussian as they are one and the same country. Or are they. He lives on the fifth floor. Or is it the fourth floor? I don’t really know what floor since it’s technically the fourth floor but for some reason the floors skipped from 3rd to 5th floor. Kiku, a Japanese who lives on the second floor, same as me, told me that the number 4 was an unlucky number along with 3, and 13, but I really don’t know. Wait, I’m talking about other things again. The apartment has 4 floors with all the occupants. The fifth floor is the home of the owners, an Austro-Hungarian couple. A weird bunch they are. The husband, an Austrian named Roderich Edelstein has that air of nobility and he plays the piano very well too while his wife, Elizabeth Hedevary, or what we call her as Liz or Eliza is a Hungarian with an iron fist to match that of any male’s own. Unbeknownst to everyone, this apartment was created for a certain reason. But that’s not for me to tell now is it? The rest of the rooms are for the occupants. One thing about it is that the occupants are all from different countries. What are the odds, si? There is one from France, my friend Francis the cook with his boyfriend from Great Britain, Arthur Kirkland and their kids Alfred and Matthew who were both adopted from different countries as well. The way those two got together is really interesting and quite the drama. Even I had to admit, their romance was a lot more dramatic than all the Spanish soaps I used to watch back at home, and that was a lot, I tell you. Oh! And there is this very VERY good friend of mine, Lovino!
Ayayay Lovinito~ mi corazon. He is a blessing in disguise.
It was a funny scene how the two of us met thought I’ve known he’s been living here since...well since he got here. I know what time he comes home from work and what he does in his free time (which was mostly staring out his balcony window). I’d always wonder about him whenever he’d come out the balcony, I would secretly stare at him from inside my bedroom. He’d always look so beautiful with the hot Italian sun draped all over him in the early mornings as he sipped from his cup and when the moon shone on him, he looked like something out of a painting. Like an angel that had been mistaken for a mere human. He looked so pure and innocent, his eyes shone brighter than the stars. Sabo, sabo. I sound like a stalker and that the words I have used to describe him may sound overused and cliche. But the loss of words is only normal of a man who could not use mere words to express his profound beauty. Before I knew it, he was more than just a neighbor. He was my unattainable dream, so close yet so far away. I tried many times to capture his attention. Timing his arrival in the apartment with my guitar playing, I even went so far as to deliberately hide in his room when Arthur came running to me when I could run to just about anyone else’s room. But I had no other option as I was tired of merely watching from my window. Oh, how I recall the time I finally saw him face to face. I lost the words I’ve always wanted to say. He was even more beautiful up close. I’ve heard him talking to Eliza before and I noted how pretty his voice sounded. So manly and yet so gentle with a sort of sadness. When I sat shaking at one corner of his room, I listened to the sweet tone of his English mixed with a touch of Italian. It was like a song of the early morning birds in sweet Sta. Anna. I could’ve sworn I could see the land from where I was born. It was that beautiful. So when we were alone, I could hardly contain myself and jumped from behind. In the many days that were to come, I become fondly attached to him. “I want to hear him talk more.” was what I thought was the reason I remained so close. But my feelings were not so easily deceived as I found myself falling for the young hot-blooded South Italian. He charmed me without even realizing it. His occasional lapses and stutters whenever I called him ‘cute’ and how he’d blow a fuse and turn completely red whenever I called him ‘Lovi.’ Every morning, during work days, I would lie in wait in front of my door to happily greet him with a hug even if I knew he was there to criticize me for the bottle of tomato juice I made for him to bring to the office. I also knew how every time I’d hug him, I’d leave a bit of my fresh-farm scent so he had this bottle of perfume ready if anyone asked him what perfume he was wearing. Sometimes I wish he’d say he was hugged for me, though. Ao that everyone from his workplace knew how much I treasured him and that he wasn’t the distant person everyone thought he was. I noticed this long before that he’d come home alone. Isn’t it normal for a person to be brought home by friends? I thought it was because they had parted somewhere along the way, but when Liz told me the story of how he felt left out by his family, I began to understand what he really wanted. Thus, I had put it upon myself to make him feel that the rest of the world may have rejected him, but I happen to be here ready to be his shoulder. I was there for the friendship. Who knew I would be asking for more?
So when he started to distance himself from me, I thought I had done something wrong. Once, I tried to talk to him, but he quickly turned around and dashed for his bedroom door. Then this other time, I bumped into him coincidentally while talking to Eliza.My face literally lit up with joy. But that quickly fell when he kept talking to Liz but paid absolutely no attention to me. It’s been haunting me for a while and the one person I was sure knew why wouldn’t even tell me. It’s always been this way. Always me being the last one to know, being given the “it’s for your own good” reason. Well, I was done with it.
I’m sick and tired of it. For once, I don’t want to be the Antonio everyone thought I was.
“Hey, Toni! Drink up, man! It’s the eve of the new year and you’re celebrating it with the awesome ME!” Strong arms were around me and the smell of root beer pierced my nostrils. Gilbert the ‘Awesome’ Prussian or so he calls himself, readily handed over to me a full glass of sparkling, bubbling root beer as he laughed at the gags that the other apartment dwellers were doing. He turns to me half panting from all the laughing. “Jeez Toni, what’s with all the gloom? You know I can’t stand gloom.”
“Lo siento, amigo.” I took glass he had offered me and chugged all the contents in one shot. Once I was done, the others clapped and cheered at my “manly” act. “Hand me the next batch, Gil~! It’s the season to be wasted!”
“Yeah! That’s the spirit! Here have some of this bad boy. This comes all the way from my motherland. Drink up, my friend.” he offers me another glass, and I take it, chugging down more root beer until all I could see was swirling and darkness.
