Fourth in the 50 sentences challenge I'm taking on with The Goliath Beetle.
Human and nation names are used interchangeably here. Mostly because using "Veneziano" seems weird to me.
Air
The air in Rome smells of half-smoked cigarettes and lunchtime espressos and hidden mysteries waiting behind ancient alleyways.
Apples
"They look like tomatoes," Romano says, "but they taste disgusting, and they're little heathens."
Beginning
Feliciano still remembers the warmth of his grandfather's arms and the scratchiness of his beard as he rocked and sang him to sleep thousands of years ago.
Bugs
"The bedbugs are gonna bite your ass if you don't stop talking about those pretty girls—I gotta sleep here, Veneziano."
Coffee
But the next morning, his brother's eyes are so bright as he sips his morning espresso and smiles at all the people walking by that Romano thinks his heart might burst.
Dark
He's a child, but Feli's fierce: he snaps his fingers and ships are sailing out of the Adriatic, sails bloated with desire for more, more, more at any cost.
Despair
And then the plague hits, and Veneziano is dragging himself through infested waters turning his glorious city, the diadem of the world, into a murky swamp.
Doors
And the distance between them and the divergence of their paths—Feli's toward power and wealth, Romano's into Spain's house—slams the door to running to help his brother in Romano's face.
Drink
"Watch me, Lovi," Feliciano calls from the gondola as he stands and holds his arms out, balanced on the prow of the delicate craft; Romano takes another sip of his aperol spritz and makes a face that is supposed to look grumpy but doesn't quite hide his smile.
Duty
Veneziano doesn't like the sound of traveling across the continent to go pick a fight with Russia, but he sees his brother's scars and bruises and the blood trickling out of his nose below his black eye, and so, never more scared in his life, he takes Mussolini's hand.
Earth
The lightning flickers like holy fire through the windows of St. Peter's during the Easter Vigil, and Romano swears he's never felt further away from earth in his life.
End
"It's over, Romano," Feliciano says, shaking a little as he watches the British and American and Canadian troops set foot into Monte Cassino and a small drop of blood trickles down from his temple into his mouth, but nothing he does can make his broken brother get up from the ground.
Fall
The grapes swell on the vine in the summer; by the autumn, Romano's picking up the phone to call his brother to invite him to press them into wine at his home.
Fire
Lovi's sick on their grandfather's birthday this year, but, just for Veneziano, he agrees to sit up on the stone wall lining the streets of Due Santi and watch the fireworks exploding purple and blue in the heart of the city out into the highways of Lazio.
Flexible
Romano sees no need to arrive anywhere on time, even when Feli tugs on his shirt sleeve and announces that they're going to be late again—a habit his brother just knows he picked up from Germany.
Flying
He doesn't want to concede the point to his brother, but Romano is very aware that both of his city's airports are, well, not exactly in the city.
Food
Attendance at world meetings skyrockets when Veneziano volunteers himself and his brother to make food.
Foot
"We are not a boot, America—and Sicily is not a fucking football."
Grave
When his brother argues with him over whether or not eating pasta with a fork and spoon makes you a brute and whether or not chaos is the lifeblood of civilization, Feli smiles and reminds himself: these arguments prove that his brother remains very much alive and his own distinct person.
Green
The grass starts growing back around Rome, and with it the hope in Lovino's heart.
Head
Lovino watches the crowds screaming insults at Berlusconi outside the Palazzaccio as the former president's conviction is finally finalized, and he shakes his head: do he and his brother always have to remain under the heels of idiots and power-hungry politicians?
Hollow
He and his brother surrender to the Allies, but the rush of relief rings hollow for Veneziano: Germany and Japan are still out there fighting, and he has no idea what they'll do to him now that he's shaking hands with England.
Honor
Feli slouches on a bench in the Venetian Ghetto opposite the Holocaust memorial plaque and wonders how he could have been persuaded—no, how he could have chosen to do such a thing.
Hope
Veneziano steps off his train in Termini station straight into the crowd and labyrinthine pathways, and he sighs to himself, knowing there's no hope left for his brother when it comes to organization.
Light
When he goes to Assisi for an escape for the too-hectic world, Romano spends hours staring at the foggy glow encircling the old fort towering over the city like a shrouded guardian angel.
Lost
"You're losing your mind," Romano says when Veneziano tells him he's been catching himself praying to Benito as he falls asleep.
Metal
Most people think of Feliciano as a wine-loving, pasta-scarfing sweetie, but Romano and at least half the East remember the days when he was cold and ruthless as sharp, warped metal.
New
Veneziano throws his arms around Romano (to the latter's embarrassment) and cries of joy at their unification.
Old
Lovino's been having lots of bad days lately; whenever he gets especially down, he takes a walk through the old cracks and corners of his heart, past the Colosseum and through the Forum, illuminated with pale blue lights once the sun sets.
Peace
Romano sits on a column just inside St. Peter's Square with his cinnamongelato melting down his knuckles and a sack of one-Euro pastries he bought Feliciano at the 24-hour bakery down Via Ottaviano, and finds his heart settling into the peace of six-a.m. sunshine peeking past the sculptures and around the corners of the colonnade.
Poison
Veneziano tries to be diplomatic about other nations's pasta, but Romano always coughs loudly and says something in a thick Southern dialect in which his brother can only understand two words: "fucking," and "sucks."
Pretty
"Romano, look at all the pretty girls in the piazza: I wanna go talk to them all—wait, why is your face getting so red?"
Rain
Lovino likes watching the tourists struggle past San Giovanni as the rain pelts down; he's a little less amused when they all start throwing down their broken umbrella in front of the church and into overflowing garbage cans.
Regret
Feliciano never says, "I wish I were stronger," to a battered Lovino in the years following World War II, but his older brother knows Feli did all he could to protect him.
Roses
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Romano says when Veneziano presents him with an armful of roses on their birthday; what he doesn't say is that he already has a vase ready on his kitchen table with enough water to nurture the flowers for months.
Secret
Veneziano keeps the silence of Zattere and its religious houses a secret for himself: he loves the sparkling water of the Grand Canal and the glittering glory of San Marco, but even he needs quiet sometimes.
Snakes
Romano says he hates snakes to hide his deathly fear of the slithering creatures; Feli, on the other hand, thinks they're sorta cute.
Snow
The light dusting of snow over the Duomo of Florence and the carousel in the main piazza is sublime in a way that even Feliciano can't quite describe.
Solid
Veneziano likes watching his brother try to hide the way he practically melts when he sees young families walking through Circo Massimo together.
Spring
Warm breezes blow through Piazza Navona in Rome when March comes, swirling past red heart balloons drifting into the sky and fountains burbling their spring songs.
Stable
Despite their differences, they're always there to hold each other up when things get rough.
Strange
"What do you mean, it's okay not to go to Mass every day of Holy Week?" Romano asks, folding his arms and staring until Veneziano caves, even though he thinks his brother is just being as superstitious as ever.
Summer
Romano rolls up the cuffs of his black jeans and walks along the seashore in Nettuno, unearthing gritty seashells with his toes and, hands in his pockets, watching the students play beach volleyball.
Taboo
Even Veneziano can't hide his frown when the stupid tourists think it's okay to eat on the Roman metro.
Ugly
Romano pretends he doesn't care that everyone considers his brother more beautiful, but the words still sting.
War
Romano tries to forget that he and his brother were coerced into fighting wars with each other, even though he can't cover up the scars Veneziano and the other European countries left across his torso.
Water
Veneziano gets far too much delight out of splashing his brother when they go swimming together.
Welcome
No matter how grumpy Romano is, he still crams half the food in his house into his visitors and bends over backwards to make sure they have more than they could ever want.
Winter
They go skiing in the Alps together every Christmas.
Wood
In their mountains and their plains, in their hills and their forests, in their shores and their cities, they are one; in their hopes and loves, in their language and people, they are one.
I miss Italy. Can you tell I miss Italy? I want another semester in Rome.
Historical notes/glossary:
Mussolini got the Italians involved in the Eastern Front in WWII. It wasn't a very popular move (the Italians didn't think this was their fight but Germany's).
Termini is a circle of the Inferno.
Having been to Venice, I can say that the island of Zattere and the Venetian Ghetto are two of the quietest and most peaceful parts of the city. You can actually find reasonably priced food in the latter at little Jewish cafes off the main piazza with the synagogues and Holocaust memorial plaque (unlike the 15 Euro cappuccinos at San Marco… just sayin').
I've mentioned this in my other Italy bros fic, "Still Lifes," but there are a number of cultural differences between the South and the North that I had fun with here. Supposedly, one half of the country eats their pasta with a spoon and fork, whereas the other only uses a fork. Another thing is that the North is much more Germanic; people believe much more in organization, being on time, dressing in particular styles (think Milanese high fashion), and the like. In the South, people are much more hospitable and outgoing (as in they will stop you on the street even when you look incredibly busy) and a bit more like what we would think of as stereotypical Italians. Attitudes toward religion differ as well. I've heard a variety of things, but the general idea is that while Northern Italians are less religious in general, the ones who are religious are, well, very religious. Italians in the South tend to practice a more "superstitious" form of Catholicism—they'll follow the devotions for good luck, or for protection, or the like (or sometimes just because that's what their families do). My headcanon for the Italy bros is that Romano is much more religious than Veneziano (even if there's some superstition mixed in there). I mean, his heart is the cradle of Catholicism with 9,000 or so churches…
Eating on the Roman metro will get you killed. Well, not really, but my friends did it once and the looks they got, man. Don't do it. It's almost worse than ordering a cappuccino after lunch.