Act One

Part I

March 17, 2010, dawned with the sleepy-eyed satisfaction of complete normality. The smog-tinted sunrise brought along with it no extraordinary sense of importance, no… excitement. While individual lives all hid different stories, for the most part everything seemed to be business as usual.

Shopkeepers and vendors dragged themselves out of bed before dawn and were open for business not long after that… businessmen, students, teachers, bums, Buddhists, artists, fathers, sons, mothers and daughters settled into their daily routines as the City That Never Sleeps dragged itself out of the electricity of the night to the waking coma of early morning.

Even Feliciano Vargas, who was always bursting at the (conveniently loose) seams with enthusiasm by the time his birthday finally rolled around, woke with a sense of calm, sitting warm and mellow in his chest.

That didn't last long, of course. With Feliciano, nothing lasted long: not pasta, or relationships, or fashionable, $200 haircuts. Books of music were worn out in a week, instruments succumbed within years. But what always seemed to flee him the fastest were those rare senses of overwhelming calm. That morning, he shook off the feeling like a spider on his arm (even though he liked spiders), rose with the sun and tore through his morning routine as quickly as possible once he realized with a loud squeal that it was his birthday.

There wasn't even any time to make breakfast, but he didn't have enough macaroni noodles for that and lunch and dinner anyway, so he would get some after class; it'd be nice to see the girl at the corner market again! Feliciano barely even stopped long enough to make sure his socks matched his pants before skittering out the door and down the cramped apartment hallway.

When he banged on his sister's door (a few minutes after seven in the morning), what he saw on her face after she opened it was not the excitement he had wholly expected: she looked, in fact, quite the opposite.

No matter how much time he spent at her side, Feliciano was constantly surprised by his sister's constant negativity. All his life he had been waiting (somewhat) patiently for her to run up and hug him, for her to laugh and say that everything else was just a joke, that she really loved him and nonno and forgave mama; that she liked all the things that normal people did, rather than hate anything that dared smile or feel any significant amount of joy.

But as she glanced him over, Lovina's expression was more of the same: obviously unhappy, and very annoyed. No change. His hopes, his pure, loving hopes, were dashed once again - but that didn't stop him from lunging forward into a short-lived hug of greeting anyway.

Once he was pushed away and colorfully cursed at in two languages, Feliciano pushed past Lovina and practically dashed into her apartment, without nearly tripping on an instrument case or stepping on a stray piece of sheet music as he did so. His sister's place was right down the hall from his own and very similar in its bones, but the décor and impeccable order of hers set them worlds apart.

Both were teeny-tiny. Two bedrooms (more like glorified closets, seeing as they were barely big enough to stuff in a bed and still have room to walk), a moldy, drippy bathroom, and a combined living room/kitchen. That was all. It was a home IKEA would dream of, if large international Swedish flat-folding furniture warehouses could have dreams.

In Lovina's, however, the pink-and-green overstuffed couch (stolen straight from 1986) and their wall-mounted TV practically took up half the place, while Feliciano's was crammed full with all the evidence of his infatuation with music. One was tastefully decorated and very efficient; the other was a recipe for disaster and true mirror of its single occupant.

Of course, Miss Vargas could never keep a place clean. IKEA was absolutely below her and she, unlike some people, had a demanding social lifeto attend to! All of that (manual labor) was taken care of by her reclusive roommate, Kiku Honda - even though it seemed a miracle that the Japanese girl could spare the time to breathe, much less keep their home tidy and impeccably organized every single day.

Her life was consumed with getting her degree in Medical Assisting (online, of course- it was a lot less stressful that way, or at least it was for Kiku), attending dance classes and singing lessons, learning Greek through some obscenely expensive program and working at the local bookstore. That wasn't even to mention her internet (read: porn and trolling) time.

Kiku's distinct lack of a social life should have been some indication of just how she managed to do all that. But seeing how Lovina treated her more as an object to rant and complain at, it came as no surprise that the little details tended to fall through the cracks. That, and Lovina was never one for keen observations anyway. On the outside she was a lot quicker, but really, apples to apples, she was just as thick as her little brother.

Feliciano, of course, had managed to make friends with Kiku within an hour of knowing her. He quickly grew attached, too, somehow, but however close he felt he was to Kiku, it was nothing compared to his friendship with Louise Beilschmidt. How he and the German exchange student had met and become friends was beyond anyone's comprehension, really, but all of those who knew them were rooting for them to finally "get together".

Lovina happened to hate Louise, though, and no, it wasn't because of her magnificent breasts or anything. She was an awkward, irritating, stern, smelly old fart of a woman trapped in a pretty girl's body and she just rubbed Lovina the wrong way, okay? So, even Feliciano knew that she wouldn't be anywhere near Lovina's apartment if either of them could help it. Really, if Louise could help it, she wouldn't be anywhere near the building.

"Where's Kiku?" he asked instead, drawing out the u in a way that irritated his sister ten times more than it normally did. It was early, much too early for any level of Feliciano Tolerance...

"She went to the gym. Now shoo, bird-brain." Lovina answered, yawning as she padded into the kitchen to pour herself some milk before going back to bed.

She didn't have a class until later, at 11:30, and that was just dance. Jazz, probably. She could definitely skip it. Today was her birthday: she was turning 20! The big 2-0! Such a momentous occasion called for her to take some time off and relax, and relaxation meant no classes, no work, and especially no outstanding annoyances, like the one fidgeting in what spare space there was to do so in the living room/kitchen… area.

Feliciano didn't obey his sister's command. Why would he? Whenever he managed to slip inside her home, he stayed there as long as humanly possible. It was their 'bonding time'. So instead of leaving, he parked himself on the couch and grinned at her back, so brightly that he could have bored a hole in the loose pink fabric of her t-shirt. It was an expectant smile, the look of someone anticipating a gift, or some really great news.

He waited in silence, about to play his favorite game (aside from 'rhyme', 'why?' and 'let's make a pretty song about Louise's breasts!'), 'guess what!', when Lovina suddenly turned and glared at him from what they called the kitchen.

"Well?" she demanded after a brief, could-have-been-tense pause, slowly turning back to open one of the outdated cupboard doors when he didn't answer. She grabbed a mug – a mug. Lovina tried to make that as obvious a statement as possible, but of course her stupid little brother didn't get the hint.

When Feliciano asked for some orange juice instead of saying anything at all useful, she snapped something about 'not being your goddamned housewife!' and used that as an excuse to hustle him up and shove him back out the door.

"No, no! I have some very important news! Please, Lovi! O-other than that it's our birthday!" Feliciano whined, stumbling over his words as he desperately switched to Italian in a bid to get back inside.

Lovina faltered. Whenever the siblings used their native tongue with one another, it meant some serious business was going down. Neither Lovina nor Feliciano were particularly good at speaking the language anymore, but they managed to communicate somewhat efficiently anyway.

She sighed as he kept waiting for her to invite him back in. He never did what she wanted (or expected) him to do.

"Okay… fine, I'll bite. What is it?"

Her brother's instant grin should have told her. She should have shut the door because then she could have refused him without having to look at his face and his poor, pathetic pout.

She should have slept until noon and gone out to dinner with Kiku, maybe even Marie and Sey. It would have been easy. Easy and safe. What was good news to her brother was an impending annoyance, at best, to Lovina, and he was using his 'good news' voice.

"Grandpa's coming to visit! We're going out for dinner and after class I'm meeting him! You should come too!"

She was a smart girl. She should have known. Dinner with the relatives was never fated to end well… especially those with her family.

And so begins my next adventure. I've got a few more chapters ready, I'd just like to see if there's much interest before I go on. Anon reviews are on so please drop me a comment if you want to see more, it'd be very much appreciated!