LittleMissOddball

It was 8 in the evening when I stumbled through our front door in search for a place to lay a weary man’s head. The nearest couch was a few steps away from the side of the door, but my knees could barely carry my weight all the way there. Relief surged through my body when I felt the warm soft cushions slowly enveloping me. I didn’t even bother to hang my coat on the coat rack and just threw it on the floor next to me. My eyes were beginning to shut and I could feel myself succumb to the ghost of sleep when I felt a shadow loom over me. My eyes shot open revealing an unknown figure. I raised my hand to push against the body but it caught me by the wrist. I still couldn’t see his face but the familiar deep baritone voice and the way it addressed me made it all too easy to recognize who it was.

“Young master, you’ll catch a cold if you sleep here.”

My eyes were starting to make out who it was. “Nino?” I asked.

“Let me escort you to your room, sir. “ He spoke to me as if in a whisper, his hand still holding my wrist and supporting my weight. “Can you stand on your own, sir?”

I tried to stand but ended up back on the floor. Damn it, my legs felt like jelly. I wonder why I was so tired.

“Please excuse me, sir.” And with one fell swoop, I was off the floor, being carried bridal style by Nino. My ears turned red at the intrusion of privacy, and my heart was racing, I could literally hear the beats in the ears. I turned red even more when I realized Nino could probably feel it too.

“W-W-W-What are you doing, stupid attendant!?” I stammered as I managed to get the words out. “Put me down right now!”

“I can’t do that sir.”

“A-And why’s that?! Put me down, you little shit! That’s an order!” I was struggling, squirming to get away from this despite the knowledge of dropping to tiled floors.

“I can’t do that. Now please stop struggling.” He started walking towards the stairs, still carrying me, his arms supporting me and one of them carrying my briefcase

Shit, if he doesn’t put me down, my heart won’t be able to take much more.

My body went rigid and I calmed down and no longer squirmed. Apparently, Nino was surprised by my sudden change in attitude and stopped just before he could take the first step on the stairs.

“Young master?”

“Put me down.”

“Sir?”

“PUT. ME. DOWN.” I ordered, raising my voice to a minimum but enough to make him submit. “NOW.”

He looked at me in contemplation whether to listen to me or to disobey me. I remained my eyes on him, giving him that threatening look.

But he stubbornly goes for the latter. “That’s not going to work, young master.”

“You fucking idiot, are you even listening to me?!” With the entire ruckus I was making, I was sure to awaken any sleeping servant or at least my father. I’ve never been glad to know my father was somewhere overseas. When he didn’t reply to me, I started struggling again. “You’re always like this! You never EVER listen to me!”

I think I must’ve pressed the wrong button when his eyes suddenly turned into a dangerous kind of glare. I didn’t need to ask him, if he was mad at me.

His eyes were enough to tell me so.

Suddenly, we were striding past doors and hallways in great speed. I could tell we were heading for my bedroom. When the door of my chamber came into view, Nino opened the door with strength and threw me to the bed, the sound of foam sinking under my weight and the ruffling of my blanket was all I heard before he climbed onto my bed, slowly taking off his vest and undoing his tie. He was mad. He was furious. But why?

“Idiot! You could’ve broken my door!” Before I could retaliate any further his body loomed over me, his eyes still piercing and mad. One moment he was just on top of me, holding my wrists down with his hands and my body held down by his own. “The hell is wrong with you--?!”

“I’m sorry for not listening, YOUNG MASTER.” The tone with which he used to emphasize the last two words was a tone of someone who had his last nerves of steel ripped apart forcefully mixed with malice and an animalistic growl that uncannily reminded me of my dinner companion tonight. “Unfortunately for you, I will not be listening to your demands any time in the future.”

I tried kicking him but my legs had now way as he was still holding me down as he lowered himself on me and clashed our mouths together. “Not now. Not ever.”

I tried to struggle against him, but he bit my lower lip and I let out a sound much that of a moan. I felt his tongue meet mine and they were locked in a dance. He released me and glared at me. “It’s no use struggling, Sho. You know you’ve wanted this.” I shuddered as the name rang in my ears.

He called me by my name. He called me ‘Sho’.

As his hands starting to roam over me, undoing my tie and taking my buttons off, he moved his tongue away from me and started licking my ears. I squirmed underneath him, trying to keep his attention away from the obvious growing bulge down there. He moved his tongue lower and started licking and peppering my neck with kisses.

“Ow! Stop this...mmh...Nino....No...S-Stop it---ah!” He moved his attention to my nipples, erect from the continuous torture he was doing to my neck. One hand tweaked my right side and the other made its way down to the bulge in my pants, slowly caressing it. My eyes started to tear up as he continued his ministrations. My mind was now blank. Then I realized my hands were now freed and were gripping the sheets. I slowly lifted one up and gave him a good slap.

He stopped. We were both panting, sweat trickling down our skin. Now that he had let me go, my mind wandered to what he had said.

“You know you’ve wanted this.”

I did. I do.

But not like this.

He just stared at me and then shuffled off the bed to retrieve my coat. He draped it over my shoulder and then turned his back at me.

After he had nearly raped me, he just turned his back on me. I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I needed to be alone. Gripping the side of my coat, I scrambled off my bed and darted past him. I went for the door but stopped to give him my words of disgust.



How nostalgic. It was like I was reliving the night I nearly lost a friend. I was running this way, not caring where my feet would take me. I just ran and ran. The fatigue that took over my body felt as if it had dissipated completely. I was breathing heavily as I ran. I continued until I couldn’t anymore and stopped to take a breather. When I had completely recovered, I realized I had come to the labyrinth of plants I used to play in with Nino, barefoot and only with my coat draped over me.

I walked in through the maze as my mind wandered off back to the days of youth when I would play hide and seek with Nino and our servants. In the hot day, after playing too much with water guns, we would be greeted with a cheerful old Michael with scones and cold juices. And then we would play again, this time with the water hoses. I would recall the mess we made of Mrs. Dolby’s precious daisy patch after we stumbled into it while re enacting the historic Civil War we had just learned from class.

Those were such good times.

I looked to the ground and returned to the scene I left inside. Nino had such a sad look on his face. I know that face. He doesn’t shot it often, but I knew he was hurt, and regretting what he had done to me. And frankly, he was right. I had wanted that. I wanted him to take me away from that horrid place and bring me somewhere else where the Sakurai name had nothing to do with anyone.

We could live a normal life, toiling for our everyday food and working our hardest in normal jobs. It sounded a lot more pleasant than the supposedly comfortable life I had.

Maybe I should go back inside. Tell him what I really felt and then tonight, we could go sneak out the back door with a few cash in hand and all our necessary belongings.

I spun around, ready to run back to the mansion when suddenly from behind me, arms wrapped around my waist and a handkerchief was immediately on my mouth. It must’ve been something sprayed on the handkerchief because the moment I inhaled, my head started spinning and then darkness.

Nino remained at in the mansion and remained my attendant; he studied in the same school as I did until high school.

Being in the family of the Sakurai meant all male servants and attendants would be part of running our empire and thus, Nino was opted to study in the Business Management sister school of mine, Keio University: Hiyoshi Campus. As for me, my father decided I take up politics and put me up to study in Keio University: Mita Campus. If I were still the young me, I would’ve been crying in Nino’s arms and begging my father to let him study in the same school as me.

Now, for the first time in a long time, my father actually does me a favor.

Being in separate schools meant, I couldn’t have time to Nino. We wouldn’t be seeing each other except when really needed. The necessary times increased right after the death of Michael, though. But even with his death, nothing changed.

Our relationship had gone as stale as our long ago friendship.

However, as an effect to the cause, both of us left our college lives with flying colors. And while the hostility is there, I would be helping him out in running the businesses, and he would with my schedules, in spite of our heavy burdens.

I just wanted it to remain this way. True I was still bitter, I didn’t want this to go on, and I wanted so much to be friends with him again. But if I did that, I would be sacrificing the many years I’ve held myself back.

Yes this was fine.

I was fine.

“Sir, are you listening?”

“Ah, sorry, I had other things on my mind. Could you repeat that?”

Nino closed his notebook and sighed. “Sir, I’ve repeated it to you 3 times already. You must learn to remove such things from your mind during your briefings.”

“I get it. Nino.” I snapped. “Now repeat that. I’m listening already.”

Not that he’s changed though. The bratty tone in his voice still remained.

“Please listen this time. At 10:00 there’s a cocktail party at Matsumoto Manor, It’s to celebrate Mr. Matsumoto’s son’s engagement into the Satoshi Family. Remember that this will seal the business partnership between the Matsumoto Corp and the Satoshi Holdings. 11:00, you will be speaking at the opening of the new Bank and attending it’s Induction Ceremony. After which you will proceed to the main branch office, where your father would like to speak to you. “

“No doubt to ask for more ‘hands’”

“You’re hands are thoroughly appreciated. “

“Continue.”

“The rest of the day until 6:00pm will be a time of planning for your next campaign. The election period is right around the corner. I’ve already spoken to your campaign officers. They will be here at 12:30, therefore it will be a lunch meeting. That is all.”

“What’s going on at 6:00?”

“A dinner. With Mr. Masaki.”

“Oh shit. I forgot about that.”

Aiba Masaki is our family’s business partner and somewhat rival in the political world. You could say we have a love hate relationship.

Well, who can blame me? After they nearly bankrupted us thanks to the late Masaki, Aiba’s father, nearly running off with our business deal, it’s no wonder father has been wary of them. It took us months trying to track him, which meant putting all operations on hold. Glad to know Nino was around, or without him, no one would be left to take charge.

We found him off the coast of Sta. Monica his bankbook in hand and wallowing in the smell of women, booze and rotting flesh.

No liabilities but the Masaki Corp shut down temporarily.

That was two years ago, until suddenly a Masaki emerged from the dark and became my rival for the position of Mayor. I won by a landslide, but there was a rise of business partnership deals between ours and the Masaki’s. At first, father was reluctant to give in to the deal. But after a few more pushes, father agreed and now we have yet another business friendship.

I, for one, would rather not see the young man’s face. First of all because I can no longer trust him, and I felt bad for Nino taking care of me at the same time running the company, it wore him out greatly, and I worried for him. Second, he had this ridiculous smile that never seemed to leave his face, making it impossible for me to read his expression and what he was thinking.

Moreover, every time I looked at him, he reminded me of Nino’s smile, which I rarely saw nowadays.



I was in my room fitting my tuxedoes when Nino came in, his notebook still in hand. “Good work today, Sir. The car is ready for you anytime.”

“Thanks.” I grabbed my coat and strode past him and started walking towards the car, him walking behind me.

The ride to the restaurant was silent. We sat next to each other, but neither of us said a word. All the resounded was the sound of the roaring engine and the sound of cutting wind. I looked out the window, watching the city lights and passerby's blur.

We’re like kids.

“H-Hey. You’re coming along?”

“Am I needed?”

“Well if you want to.”

“That’s not for me to decide, young master.”

You sneak! You said that on purpose!

“Fine. Then you can stay here. “

“As you wish.”

I hate this about you. Nino. Don’t you know how to read the situation anymore?

Or are you just holding back?

I seriously wanted to scream the chauffer to drive faster. The ride was taking too long and when we did get there I thought I would heave a sigh of relief.

Nino stayed behind and I made my way to my upstairs where I was greeted by an obnoxious smiling idiot waving at me at the far end of the resto.

“Sho-chan!”

You’re too loud idiot.

As I made way to him, something nagged me at the back of my head.

I don’t know. Somehow, I felt something ominous fill the air.

“Have a seat~!”

And that tone didn’t make it any better either.

The night of the party, after my unsuccessful attempt to escape, I was escorted back to my room by Michael along with my new attendant at my beck and call, as quickly and as quietly as they could in hopes that the party going on at the other side of the wall would not be alarmed. I reluctantly agreed and put my plans of running away on temporary hold.



As a usual routine, Michael would come into my room to tuck me in like always, but when the door to my room opened I lifted my head from the I had in hand to see a young face wearing the same suit Mike wore, but fitted for his size.. He strode in carrying my usual comforter pillow.

“Time for bed, Young Master.”

“D-Don’t call me that.”

“Why?” He turned to me as he finished fiddling with my night lamp. “You are my master, are you not?”

He continued with what he was doing, my eyes following his every move. It was as if, as he strode to every corner of my room to prepare me for bed, he knew what he was doing and what was to come next. Like he had been in my room before?

That certainly wasn’t the case right.

“Moreover...” he turned to me again. “...It is a show of respect, is it not?”

In the dim glow from my lampshade, I stared at him, making contact with those same piercing dark eyes, still drawing me to him. I snapped out of my reverie as I felt him tap both my shoulders and gently pushed me down onto my pillows while simultaneously pulling my covers up.

“Good night, young master.”

He gave me one last look and turns to leave, but my voice stops him in him midway through the door.

“Sho.”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“C-Call me Sho.”

He smirked at me. “You told me the same thing not too long ago, young master.”

“Only when we’re alone. I mean...” I bury myself in my sheets. “Don’t you find it strange calling me ‘young master’ when we’re about the same age? Just Sho is fine. “I said my words barely audible under the thick blanket.

“Well...”

“That’s an order. “

I thought I was going to faint when I heard faint chuckling coming from his direction. It worsened when could feel for sure he was looking at me with that ridiculous grin on his face.

If I could bury myself even deeper than I was right now, I would.

“I understand.”

“If you do, then tell me properly.”

“As you wish, Sho.”

And with that the sound of doors drummed in ears and I was left to feel my heart pounding loudly in my chest.



The next morning, I was greeted with the usual sun and birds chirping from outside my window.

But instead of an old man coming in with my breakfast in bed, I was greeted by a Nino.

“I’ve brought your breakfast, Sho.”

As he set the miniature table before me, I could practically breathe the formality emanating from his being. I sighed in exasperation.

He turned to me with a worried look. “Is something wrong, Sho?”

“Drop the formalities when we’re alone, idiot. We’re the same age.”

“...”

“That’s an order.”

“O-kay. If you say so.”

“Wow. The change is so great.” I looked to him in mockery.

“And order IS an order.”

“Guess so. So what am I doing today?” I took a sip of my morning milkshake. “It’s a Saturday. I bet the old man’s making me go to his parties again. I have had enough of that.”

“On the contrary, I was told to tell you to stay home and play.” He hands me a letter and I cringe at the sight of it.

“He won’t even come into his own son’s room and delivers his greetings through a letter. The arse.” I pry the envelope open and hear chuckling again. I turn to Nino, literally holding the laughter in.

“What the hell’s so funny?” I snapped

“Aha, nothing. Just that ‘arse’ isn’t necessarily layman’s term.”

I beamed. “It makes me sound cool so butt out.”

“Yeah yeah.” He still wore the ridiculous grin on his face as he started to clean up.

“Well it says here I can stay at home and do whatever I want. No tutors. No parties. Nothing.” I put the letter back inside the envelope and toss it to the garbage can. I lie back down on the bed feeling the fluffiness of my pillows.

“So today is a normal Sho, huh?”

“What?”

“You’re not young master Sho today.”

“Hah, I guess so.”

“Then let’s go!”

He yanks the covers back and pulls me up to my feet picking out clothes while I stood there dumbfounded.

“What in fuck’s name are you doing, Nino?”

“Put on these clothes.” He shoves a set of clothes to my chest and pushes me to the bathroom.

“What the hell!?”

“Just do it! And hurry up.”

“Okay! Okay fine!”

Coming out of the bathroom, I am now wearing a tucked in white button down shirt and brown khaki pants. I look around for Nino, now nowhere to be found when sounds of feet kept coming closer to my room. In the doorway, there was Nino in blue and white striped casual shirt and brown shorts.

“Can you please explain what we’re doing?”

“We’re going out to be normal.” And just like that were out the door, dashing through the hallway and running out to the garden.



What he meant by being normal was playing in ponds, catching bugs and literally...having fun.

I’ve never had so much fun in my life. I didn’t expect I would be having this much fun getting myself into scrapes and getting scratched all over.

Yes we did get what we had to in the end.

But at the end of the day?

I was pretty much happy.

I would treasure that day. Until now it was sketched in my mind.

A fine Saturday morning. The weather was great, the flowers were all in bloom, the creek was bubbling and two young boys ran through a labyrinth garden, kites in hand.

Such a fine day that was.

It was.

Until it all went downhill.

It was just three weeks into the academic year. I lay on my bed, my notes with pens and highlighters beside me. I had been studying for the last 3 hours and decided to take a break. I put down all my notes and picked up my phone sitting atop my bedside table and positioned myself lying down on my side scanning for FB updates, twitter notifs or Tumblr ups when a buzz from my phone sent my whole arm vibrating. I looked at the darkened screen and saw the messenger notification box clear on the screen. Only three words appeared:

Antonio Carriedo: Yo.

I gazed at my iPhone screen and pressed the reply button.

Lovino: What, bastard?

Antonio: Ouch Lovi, I wanted to ask how you were doing. Thank you for helping me out during Jap. today. You really helped me out back there. I should sit beside you more often during that class.

Lovino: Sure.

Antonio: So what are you doing right now?

Lovino: Chatting with you,idiot.

Antonio: You’re not studying?

Lovino: Was. I’m taking a break.

Antonio: Oh. Then I can borrow you for a few minutes?

Lovino: Do whatever you want.

Antonio: Just wanted to talk about that series we were talking about during break time.

Lovino: What about?

Antonio: Well, see...



Antonio Fernandez Carriedo is one of my blockmates from my Communication Arts Course in the state university I go to. Before this, we barely said a word to each other. In fact, I was alone most of the time and he looked like he wanted to be alone as well as he never conversed with any of the other blockmates. That was during the first week. But then after another week or so, we had a chance to talk during break time while waiting for our next class.

I sat with the block, scanning through my phone an looking through pictures of the recent episode release of the drama series I’m following when I felt a presence creep behind me. I turned my body 180 degrees to the left and realized it was Antonio hovering over me, also looking at my phone. I quickly locked it and blushed. The drama series I was following was the sort of drama most people would be wary of. For a college student to be watching that sort of drama would probably turn people off. I tried to bring out the words. Something along the lines of, “Not a word of this bastard, or you’re dead.” But the words wouldn’t come out. I thought for sure he would shun me, but instead he took me by the shoulders and directed my body to him. Now that I was looking at him, I could literally see the glimmer present in his eyes.

“Was that what I think it was?”

“Wh-what was?”

“How To Get Away With Murder. “ What?

“It was in your phone. The pictures. Those were of the recent episodes right?”

“Y-yeah. What about it?”

“I finally found a friend!” He threw his arms out and took me into a tight hold from which I felt like I was about to die from air loss. He swung me around and landed me back down on my feet thankfully before the oxygen had completely left me.

“I thought I was the only one! I never thought you’d like the same series as well!”

“Yeah well, I do. And I like Oliver a lot. He’s hot.”

“I like him too!”

And just like that, I found myself in a lengthy discussion with him about the show and a lot more. He apparently liked nearly the same things I did, went to the same place I’ve been to. He’s Spanish and I’m Italian so we could pretty much speak the same language. In the few weeks we got acquainted we had somehow leveled up to becoming friends. Or so he claims.

After all, who would want to be friends with little ol’ Lovino Vargas. The Resident Bully. The Putty Mouthed Bad Tempered Unwanted Eldest son of the illustrious Vargas Family.

For someone to call me his or her friend could mean Grand Papa had used his connections to make me feel good about myself for a while then drop the bomb on me telling me he had only paid this kid to pretend to be my “friend”. Either that, or that person must be reckless and stupid and needs serious medical attention, preferably for the eyes and for the brain.

But this guy claimed he was different. He hardly knew what the Vargas family meant and thought it was just a fancy name for a tomato variety (For some odd reason, he’s into tomatoes. So much he thinks it’s a compliment to call him “Tomato Bastard”). Since that day, we would text each other or chat with each other. We were almost always together, joking around and horsing around. You’d see us either talking about stuff our other blockmates could hardly relate. In a sense, it felt comfortable being with him. And this was the first time any one was ever kind to me this way.

Since youth, I was always number two. My younger brother, Feliciano who I’m older by 10 seconds, was the cheerful adorable one. He was always number one. Everyone loved him. I loved him too, but there were times in which I wished he wasn’t the favorite. He was good at singing, painting. Everything I’m not. He was loved. I wasn’t. During our shared birthday, which is supposed to be for the two of us, I would be on the far end of the crowd, watching as Feli is showered by friends and family with gifts and compliments, while I was stuck to eat cake alone.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t always sadness in my life. For one, as nobody wouldn’t bother to ask for me, I would always be with my pen and paper, scribbling away on paper about life, romance, and adventure. I learned of my love for writing then and most of the time if I wasn’t in my room being lonely and drowning myself in hate, I would most certainly be under some tree in our giant labyrinth, writing the noon away. On rainy nights, while everyone would be asleep, I would sneak out the house and run to my favorite spot, a cliff overlooking the city of my beloved hometown, Italy. When the rain would stop, the skies would clear and the magical and mysterious beauty of the cosmos would light the sky. I would be there looking and mapping the stars. As a result to being alone most of the time, I would be buried in my books and therefore, excelled in school. It would be during school ceremonies where I would be known to the family as a pride. Although after that, it would be back to Feliciano. But I had grown accustomed to it. My lonesome became happiness. So when someone like Antonio had started talking to me, it felt so alien and I had begun to feel a strange attachment to him. The first days of college were vexing as I would again succumb to the loneliness and the fortitude of the library. Now, going to school meant I would get to see the person I now held dear. It was friendship blossoming slowly. I don’t dare tell him much about myself, but I always feel like I could tell him everything. He would tell me his secrets, therefore I felt special. We had a special connection. Even when our circle of friends grew, he would always stick to me.

Looking back on it now, it felt like it started somewhere from there. I had known it all along. I was different. I had a strong gut feeling and this feeling made me realize it a lot sooner. The friendship for me had grown to be something more than that. He became my reason to go to school. My reason for waking up in the morning. The knight in my poems. The hero of my plume. I had fallen in love with Toni. A lot faster than I thought I would.

So imagine the happiness suddenly collapsing inside of me when the entrance of an unexpected character came into the fray completely turning me upside down. Imagine seeing the one person you thought was the one. The one that finally made you feel number one suddenly make you number two.

I had been irritable all morning.

The moment I woke up, knowing it would be the fourth day of shooting for Kazoku Game, I felt a pang of anger suddenly rise up in my chest. I thought it was only morning sickness as I wasn’t naturally a morning person and that all I needed was a good cup of coffee.

But it didn’t help at all.

I was scowling. I couldn’t concentrate, and I saw even the slightest imperfection in the staff and my co actors.

Not surprisingly though, I did even better for this shoot.

My manager was no help either. He just reprimanded me, telling me I was back to being the jerk I was in my Jr. Days (Oh, those days were precious). He even went as far as to call Mr. Kitagawa, which, by the way, has no effect as he was the type to never mind what his idols did as long as his name would not be tarnished.

Okay, I have to admit, that made me laugh.

The rest of the day was literally the same.

I was relieved today was not a schedule for any of our variety shows or our usual song composition sessions. Otherwise, I could be the death of the group. I certainly didn’t want that to happen.

It was early dawn when I had managed to clear all my appointments. I drove back home to the apartment compound that Mr. Kitagawa had been so generous enough to lend to me for a couple of days for the duration of the shoot.
I manoeuvred my Montero to the parking lot expecting my usual spot to be vacant, when I saw an obnoxious car parked on my otherwise RESERVED space.

I stopped behind the said car and went out of mine to take a closer look at whose car it was.

Porsche Cayman.

Only one person I knew owned this car.

A figure popped out from the opposite side of the car wearing his usual sunny side smile. I stared at the man, waiting for his signature greeting.

“Sho-chan!”

“Aiba.”

“What’s up? Not looking the chipper, are you?”

“Just tired. Now please move your car. That space happens to be my space.”

“No way.”

“What?”

“First come...” Aiba pats the top of his car and looks at me as if teasingly. “...first serve.”

I finally snapped, my eyebrows now forming a ‘V’ on my forehead.

“Listen here, Masaki. Unlike you, I have had the worse days since my workload increased. I have movies and shoots and interviews not to mention News Zero to think about and you and the other three are just lazing around in your own homes doing whatever, while I bust my butt trying to get this world and mine to recognize me and this goddamn group. And as of now I don’t have the slightest mood to deal with you and your shenanigans. So move the fucking car or so help me I will bulldoze it away.”

I must have been really mad to not realize that Aiba had made his way towards me and was now standing inches away. “Scary
Sho-chan~”

I backed off just a bit, trying to look unaffected. “You’re darn right I am! Now move---“

And his lips were on mine. And it left, just as quickly as it came. Just like that kiss we shared on VS Arashi.

Remembering that time added to the scarlet already evident on my face.

“What the hell was that for?!”

“Aw, Sho-chan you look so cute right now~!”

“Sh-Shut up! Don’t try to change the subject here!”

“Wouldn’t think of it! This is part of the subject, Sho-chan!”

“The hell are you on about?!”

His expression changed as his voice now lowered from a cheerful tone to a soft and gentle one. “You had a rough day, huh?”

I was speechless the next when he put his hand on my head and started patting me. I looked to him, on his face a serene and knowing smile spread throughout his face. “Good job today, Sho-chan~!”

Once again, I blush. I look to the ground again to hide the curve now starting to form on my lips. “Don’t pat me.”

“Eh?”

“Don’t get so cocky! You’re only taller than me by a few inches.”

Aiba blinked a few times before putting on that sunny side smile again. “Aha~ Right~!”

“By the way...” Aiba leaned closer, his face now close to mine.

“Sho-chan.”

I thought for sure he was going to kiss me again.

“Wh-what?” I flustered.

“I’m hungry!”

I blinked.

“What did you just say?”

“See, I had been here for an hour and I didn’t go Drive Thru so...Ow! Sho-chan! It hurts! You stepped on me! Why?!”

“See if I care!” And I stomped away.

I didn’t even care about my car still improperly parked.

The rest of that day, I called in leave and stayed at home.

Reading the newspaper.

Watching television.

All while Aiba made me food fit for a king.

The melody of rain 　 The music of tears dropping 　 The hazy sky is peeking through

Stop time 　 Deep in a sleeping forest where you hid your memories 　 Search for the light.



When many colors overlap, blurring like a dream (Baby)

If possible, abandon yourself to the lingering wind, along with this voice that can't reach you.



1777: War of Independence



"I'm no longer your little brother, nor am I your colony."

A platoon of soldiers at his opponent's beck and call, guns at the ready, and a single man clad in red Victorian Clothing , and glaring at the figure across him who was pointing his gun at point blank was a sight to behold under the heavy torrent of the summer rain,



"England, give me my freedom!"



No reply.



"England!"

"Shoot you goddamn, ungrateful twat! Shoot!" England shouted, his voice quivering from the tears he so tried to keep back. "Finish this!"

The blond holding the musket quivered at the words thrown at him. Oh how much he wanted so much to pull the trigger. And there in front of him stood the man that could very much give him the freedom he wanted. All he had to do was pull the trigger.

He held it up, his guards following suit, pointing to the now unarmed man.

"Shoot! America!"

The name resounded throughout the battlefield and in the ears of the blond in blue. For a second, he forgot what he had been there for. All he remembered now was the gentle smile of the young bachelor, his kind words and actions. Flashes of laughs and giggles and days under the sun seemed to come one after the other in fast paces. And from out of nowhere, the horrid smell of "cooking" filled the air. Peaceful nights ensued.

For a second he forgot this wasn't just the man that bore the name of the British Empire. He wasn't the man that trampled on millions just to expand his fame and glory. And he certainly wasn't the man that held the destiny of the one called, America and was now standing unarmed, drenched in the rain with eyes glaring at the other and alone on the battlefield.

He was just the man that took him in and cared for him and loved him with all that he had.

He was England. Just England.

His head bowed along with his rifle, sending a ripple to the guards at the back. "Enough of this. Just give me my freedom. Please."





The light that touched the palm of your extended hand passes through

Water the flowers that forgot to wake up

It's as if that is a landscape I'd seen some time. I can go back

I continued to draw alone Into this quiet night





July 1, 20XX: Three days until 4th of July



England sits at the far end of the countries' meeting table. sipping on his afternoon tea and feeling the soft gush of wind coming from the small gap through the window. "America! Enough with these stupid 'hero' business! Take this meeting seriously!"

"Why do you always go against my suggestions, huh England? I don't hear YOU coming up with any ideas." America's palms hit the table hard, the sound bouncing off the walls. "All you do is sit there and sip your tasteless tea."

England cringes at the sound of 'tasteless tea' and stands, striding to the direction of the American. "How dare you insult my teatime, you ungrateful twat!"

"What'd you call me?!"

"UNGRATEFUL. TWAT." England takes his index finger and flicks the blonde’s forehead, which gives him a yelp. America strokes the flicked area, tears in his eyes.

Sparks of lightning ignites between the two as they begin another everyday route that leads the world meetings to nowhere. From the other side of the table, France and the other countries snicker at each other from the everyday sight.

"Aren't you gonna do anything today, France?" Spain scoots over to the bearded long haired blond friend and whispers to him. "It's rare for you and Germany not to butt in today."

France just sighs and looks to Spain with knowing eyes. "Let's leave them be, mon ami. Not today." He then looks back to the two still arguing, even from being held back by the other concerned countries. And probably not for the rest of the week.



The day ended with yet nothing being done and everyone was getting ready to be done when someone speaks the dreaded words.

"Ve~ America's birthday is in three days, right?"

All hands stop fumbling with their briefcases or stop in their tracks and looks to the ground, others to the direction of both America and England. Germany heads to Italy's side and takes him by the shoulders.



"Let's go, Italy." he says, shoving the unknowing Italian hurriedly out the door. The intervention may have gotten all the other countries' focus back and were now scurrying out the meeting room. France steps to England's side and taps him before leaving the door.

The room is silent with only America and England alone, the tension rising between both males, until England decides to be the reasonable gentleman.



"What are you doing this year?"

"The usual, I guess. Fireworks, and drinks and all that." he replies, his eyes glued to his meeting materials.

"I see."

America's hands stop fumbling and he tilts his head upwards just a little bit. "Hey England---" he begins but is cut off by England's voice echoing from the other side of the room.



"America."



America looks to the direction of the other, now looking out the window. "I never told you." England then faces him and America is struck by the expression England had on his face.

It was the same face he used to give him when he was little and would be expectantly waiting his beloved England's return. Except now, it was clouded with that of sadness and traces of that reminiscent summer rain.

"The view from this window looks exactly like the place where I found you."

America felt something inside him snap. He makes an angry sound and scrambles to get his stuff and himself out of the meeting room, leaving England behind, not wanting to see the face he had on right now.

Once out of earshot and alone in the hallway, America drops to his knees holding his body, trying to stifle the sounds that were beginning to be obvious.

"A hero shouldn't be like this." he muttered to himself as he remained on the ground, a sobbing mess.



Close your eyes Where did the flowing tears go? On this long sleepless night, I search for the stars



July 4, 20XX



The sound of boiling hot water and the smell of burning scones were all you could notice in England's otherwise silent House. No one seemed to be at home, but if you were to strain your ears enough, you would hear the grumbling sounds of 'twat' or 'asshat' in between the sniffing sounds and the flurry of blankets being thrown to the ground.

It was the 4th of July. America's birthday. It was the day he got his freedom. The day he left England. And like every year, there would be a huge party gathering at America's home and everyone would be invited. Even England.

But like every year, England would stay at home.

Rainy nights in London are an everyday sight. It gave Londoners a reason to sip hot tea and chat with steaming hot scones adorning every plate

But tonight's rain was a little too nostalgic. As if the date was enough to give him nightmares, the rain would only make it worse. It was like the clouds were pouring the tears that his eyes would refuse to let fall. Every year, he would try to watch the celebration from his television box, to scare away the pain and to finally be rid of that sadness, only to end up even more scared of the thunders and the loneliness he would start to feel. He would curl himself up in a blanket, and wouldn't leave his room until the week ended.



My fingertips trace the colors lightly, if only by the fading shapes (Baby)

The grief that melted away from my trembling heart flowed endlessly.



England sat in his dark bedroom alone with only the moon's shine to shed light on the desolate room. The sound of thunder clapping makes him jump from fright and he quickly moves his ears to block out the sounds. How he wished the night would end soon.

The thunders’ sounds die out yet the rain remains. England looks out to his window to see the million stars light up the sky. His eyes glow and forget the sadness he feels and goes back to the times when he and America would be out late at night, gazing up at the stars in green fields and talking the night away. A tear trickles down his cheek and England too finds himself in uncontrollable sobbing.



The fleeting dreams that I was chasing disappeared, shaking my heart. I was told goodbye and didn't say anything back

Someone's voice calling out to me still echoes now

Tired of standing on my own and staring into the distance.



The stars mesmerized him. He could no longer hear the sound of the thunder and he sat there just gazing upwards tracing every single constellation he could. Each time recalling a memory he and America had.

He continued to look to the heavens until the rain stopped. From his soliloquy he comes to a decision: He had to let go of the past.

America was no longer who he once was. He was now the United States of America. He had to face the facts. He was now stronger than anyone, even stronger than England. He's no longer that boy that called out to him so lovingly, and clung to him like he was his mother.

"England!"

Ah, his voice had always been the most beautiful. Hearing it now, brings a new set of tears in his eyes. This was right.

"England!" A sudden burst through his door revealed the American blonde panting and soaked from the rain. But England kept his eyes glued to the outside window.

"You've grown so much, America." The Englishman takes his eyes away from the view and points it to the direction of the figure at his door with tears in his eyes. "I am so proud of you. I'm sorry."



The moon reflects you White and shining

The rain, without ever stopping, engulfs me.



America had planned to hold a party just like every year, but the sudden downpour put all his plans on hold. In the end, he resorted to holding his own party, alone.



Besides, it's not as if England's coming.



Thinking of England now, he must have been stupid.

This is his fault. He had to say that during the meeting.

To put his mind off things he bounces to the kitchen to make himself a homemade burger when the sudden thunderclap makes him jump and drop his burger to the floor. He looks out the window and sees the heavy rain had become a storm.

Once, in his old days, he had always been scared of the storm and would always seek England's company. Sure England would fall asleep first, but it was just enough to make him feel like he was loved and not alone.



He truly loved England and leaving him was probably the biggest decision he had to make. It hurt him, but he had to.

Another thunderclap and he finds himself scouring for his coat and car keys and headed for the Englishman's house.

Once he got there, he noticed the stillness of the British home. He tried calling for him but no one replies. America starts to worry and goes through every corner of the room until he notices upstairs where a faint light was showing through a small gap. He hurriedly climbed the stairs, calling out England's name and barges in on the room where England sat alone staring out the window, clad in his blanket, the moon's light shining on him.

"England."

"I'm so proud of you. America, I'm sorry."

America strides to the other's bed and engulfs him in a warm embrace. England leans on his chest, crying while America strokes his back.

This continued throughout the night, until the morning when they woke up together in nothing but a blanket to cover them both.

Smiles of glee greeted each other and eyes full of love stared at one another. "Happy birthday, America."

America strokes his head and kisses his forehead, and pulls him closer. "I love you too, England."



The light that touched the palm of your extended hand passes through

Water the flowers that forgot to wake up

It's as if that is a landscape I'd seen some time. I can go back

I continued to draw alone Into this quiet night



The fleeting dreams that I was chasing disappeared, shaking my heart. I was told goodbye and didn't say anything back

Someone's voice calling out to me still echoes now

Tired of standing on my own and staring into the distance.

Prologue

I sat at the back of the car staring whist-fully out the window My earphones playing out on maximum to drown out the sounds of the outside world. Beside me, I could feel the leather move to the direction of two of my companions horsing around and making fun of the otherwise sweet and sappy scene playing before them. In the driver’s seat was Antonio Fernandez Carriedo busily tugging and playing with my Feliciano’s tiny hands while being busy with the maneuver. Even as I put my attention out the window, watching the houses and trees blur as we pass by or to the ridiculous duo of the Bad Touch Trio being themselves, I could literally feel one of Toni’s arms draped over my fratellino’s shoulders. Occasionally, I would jive in with Francis’s and Gil’s shenanigans. Teasing, making snide remarks and linking them together; I would do that with a huge grin of mischief plastered all over my face. I’d make weird gestures along with the other two, all the while avoiding the scene and keeping my eyes on something else.

I would do that. I did that every day like it was no big deal. And much to nobody’s surprise, everyone joins in as we have always hinted there was something more between them than being just friends. I’d have Matthew, my other close friend helping them get together per Toni’s request.

But, to be honest. It hurts. It fucking hurts. Seeing that sight made me realize one thing: I always have been and always will be number two.

“What’s this?” I turned to Nino who was now holding at a familiar miniature white car. I grinned.

“Oh that. How nostalgic.” I looked back to my previous task and continued rummaging through the piles of boxes and whiffs of dust. “Mom used to be a travel agent and she would always be out of the country because of it. But whenever she’d come how, there would always be at least one souvenir from the country she visited. Hmm, not this one either. “Pushing away the stacks of book on one side, I searched somewhere else as I continued. “That’s from Italy, if I remember correctly. Italians mostly owned Fiats if I remember correctly so she thought she’d get me one. Fuck, it’s not here either.”

“Yours was a great childhood. “My hands stopped moving and I felt myself smirk as Nino sat beside me. “Well... it was. In its own little ways.” I smiled as I leaned in for a kiss. It was slow and careful at first, but soon it became an intricate dance of tongues. The contact remained until we were both out of breath. We broke the kiss, both of us heavily panting.

“W-We should probably find that chest.”

“Impatient, aren’t we? Turned you on, didn’t I?”

“Shut up Nino.” He gave me another peck, and I blushed. “You know the answer to that.”

“I do. Hahaha. But seriously though...” He stood up and took in the sight of the attic. “This place is so musty it’ll take years to clean!”

He was right. After that night, I never went up here again. I thought of it, but I never found the courage. Only after waking up, feeling the sun’s heat on my face and the lingering warmth brought about by last night did I find it.

So after a hearty breakfast (and a steamy after-sex in the shower) we made our way to the attic.

In my youth, my mom would often come here whenever she wasn’t playing with me. I’d always wondered why. The reason, I found out that night. I thought I would always hear muttering up here. I realized that was her repeating those words to herself like a mantra.

I also remember reprimanding her internally for not keeping the place clean for when I first entered the attic for the first time, a flurry of dust bunnies landed on my face covering me completely. I was mortified looking at the disarray of the stuff that was there. You’d think it wasn’t the attic but an indoor dump. It was just like her to make a mess and not clean it up after wards.

Coming up here and seeing the attic the same way I left it made me laugh. The same scent of aging papers and the smell of varnish slowly fading.

“Fuck this shit. Where is that goddamned chest?!” As Nino ended his sentence and was starting to walk to the other side, his foot caught on a piece of red cloth sprawled on the floor.

“Watch out!” I bolted to him, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him back but my foot also caught on the cloth and the next thing I remember was falling back first to the floor. A loud thud echoed throughout the small room. I lay on my back and Nino lying on top of me while my hand still gripped his arm. Luckily, my body was able to cushion his fall. My back hurting like hell was a small price to pay for his safety.

It took a while for both of us to regain a hold of ourselves.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” Nino scrambled to get himself off me. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. No worries.” I sat up. “You’re a lot lighter than I thought you were.”

“Idiot, what’s that supposed to mean? Hmm?” He glanced up, a large casket that looked like it had been the thing covered by the red cloth catching his attention.

“Hey Aiba...”

“That’s it!” I exclaimed as I excitedly tore off the remaining cloth still on top of the casket and basked in the nostalgic feel and texture of the finely shaped chest. The smell of old papers pierced through my nostrils. My heart began to throb wildly in my chest as my eyes examined the large chest.

“Aiba? You’re shaking.”

“Aha~ Am I?” I guess I just don’t know what to do, now that I’m actually looking at the real thing. It’s overwhelming, I’ll be honest.”

Arms enveloped me from behind as I felt a body push itself on me. I let myself drown in the warmth it gave me. I didn’t look, but I could tell Nino’s looking like a tomato right now.

An adorable tomato.

“Nino?”

“We can open it together, if you’re that nervous.”

I stroked the hands that held me. “Great idea.”

With our hands clasped together, we reopened my past.



We stayed in there in what seemed like forever just going through the many treasures the, now seemingly little casket held. From time to time I would feel myself tear up, but Nino would wipe them away and give me his brightest smile and we would continue, sometimes laughing at my silly drawings, my mom and me’s picture together, sometimes crying at what my mom would write up until the day she died. Sometimes, were even in between. When we had finished, we closed the past once again and stared out the window and then to each other. And then, as if our minds were linked, we started laughing at each other, the sounds bouncing off the walls as we both come to realize that neither of us had noticed the sun coming up to greet the next morning.

I’ll admit. I never looked forward to Christmas, not after what happened. But the sight is something to behold.

Sidewalks covered in ice, ponds, lakes and rivers froze looked like an aquarium, frozen at the surface, but fish swam underneath it. Once or twice too many times, I’ve seen a professor of ours fishing. The chill isn’t altogether bad thanks to the warmth you could almost feel emanating from the houses that lined the streets. Colourful lights lit up at night and the cheery Christmas spirit spiralled through the air.

We got to my neighbourhood, starting to finally get the frostbite and relieved to see that oversized box of memories.

“Hey Aiba.”

I stopped. “Hm?”

Nino looked at me again, his mouth moving to say something, but at the last minute Nino thought twice and shook his head. “Nothing. Never mind. I wanted to say hurry up. I’m fucking freezing here. “

“Oh...kay. But you’re the one slowing me down.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Flashing each other a mischievous grin, we sprinted uphill.

----------------------

We arrived at the door panting, our lungs nearly collapsing and just downright cold.

“God dammit, we shouldn’t do that again.” He struggled to get out in between huffs and puffs.

“But it was fun...ah leave your things there. And come up to my room.”

“Can I use your kitchen for a bit? And shit. Turn on the heater!” Now that he mentioned it, it felt like Siberia in here. I sprinted to the basement and turned on the heater, coming out after a few seconds to watch Nino dressed in an apron get his hands busy around the pots and pans. I stood in the doorway, his back turned to me.

“Oh , you’re making dinner?”

“How does nikujaga sound?”

“Yahoo! I’ll grab the pot.”

“No.” He said, his eyes glued to the fridge and rummaging through it. “I’ll get it myself. Go get the console ready.” He mumbled something under his breath and closed the fridge. “Well don’t just stand there. Get up there and get the console ready.”

“R-right.” Did I just feel heat rush to my head just now? “Sure you don’t need any help.”

“I’d rather not have an airhead around my kitchen.”

I chuckled lightly. I know better than to argue with that.

With that thought in mind, I started up stairs, leaving creaking sounds behind me.



The hallway upstairs contained only 3 things: my room, the master and a ladder that stood in the middle of the hall, leading upwards to the attic door, respectively. Every time I would go up, the first thing that would greet me would be that, the ladder. Looking back, why did I never leave the house?

After the funeral, my uncle had come to pick me up but I had refused to go with him and insisted and begged to my family to let me keep the house. After a few pushing they finally let up, on the condition that all my finances would be covered by them. Whether it was out of pity or they truly want to look to look out for me, minded me not in the least. I was happy enough assured that I owned the house.

“Ah it’s on. “ I had just finished installing the console and the game, but I could tell Nino wasn’t done yet when the sound of chopping echoed downstairs. I glanced at the clock and estimated the time he would be done.

“I could use some shut eye.”

I plopped myself on my bed and connected me to my dreamscape.



It was a blank space. White as far as the eye could see. I was alone sitting in that white terrain, but not for long when a child, around the age of 6 or 7 rushed past me. Suddenly the scenery changed and I was inside a dim house with only the candles acting as a way of light. It was warm, and I realized I was standing by the door, the heat coming from the candles, reaching me.

“Happy Birthday Aiba!” A cheerful face came from beside me.

Mom.

“Is that cake!?”

“I baked it myself! Hah!”

This was...that night.

My birthday night. I remember everything vaguely. Food on the table, minimal presents and the hideous cake Mom baked. I remember it tasted as bad as it looked. Maybe even worse. But no matter how bad it was.

“I-It’s good...Mom...”

“It’s that good that it brings tears to your eyes? I must be getting good.”

“Actually it’s not.” Younger version of me sniffed, my mom in turn, looked shocked. “It’s seriously bad. Like what did you put in it?”

“But I did my best to follow the cook book!” she looked down, but I wasn’t done.

“But...” younger me sniffed again. “...it’s better than anything you’ve ever made!”

My mom had tears in her eyes as she hugged me and presented my presents. We were laughing and singing songs and playing jokes with each other. Just the two of us.



And then, I was outside. Heavy snow and traffic and a crowd of people were gathered at an intersection.

And in the midst of it all: a heavily beat up Cooper and a heavy truck turned to its side, blood flowing had stained the snow covered roads.

A woman lightly dressed sprawled on the ground.

My hands were immediately on my head. I got to my knees and the last thing I remember was screaming before my dreamscape collapsed.



My eyes flew open and there I was lying on my bed, tears trickling on the sides of my face, a figure loomed over me shouting my name.

“Aiba! Shit! What the hell!?”

It took me a few seconds before registering who it was when I smelled the faint scent of condiments and spices. “N-Nino?”

“I ran up here when I heard screaming. I thought there was a burglar, but you were sleep talking, squirming. My God, you’re sweating.” He touched my forehead and wiped off the beads of sweat forming in my brows before looking back to me again, his eyes full of concern and, genuine desire to know what had riled me up so much. “I’ll...get you some water.” He stood up, but I quickly grabbed him by the arm. He didn’t look back though.

“Is...” I gulped, letting go of him.“Is the nikujaga ready?”

“Come down when you’ve calmed down.” And then he left.