See? I told you guys more random Borgias one-shots were going to happen. This one is, however, a bit different. For one, it features my very own Borgias OC, whom I will explain more about to anyone who wishes to know, and for two it is set in the modern time period, more than likely somewhere in America. Other than that, the basic warnings apply for anything Borgias related (near-complete bastardization of Catholicism, among other things) that has Micheletto in it (slash, mentions of BDSM, and probably just Micheletto himself). However, other warnings that apply are as follows: mentions of extreme homophobia on the part of parents; mentions of Personality Disorders (BPD and SPD in this case); mentions of depression; mentions of an eating disorder; mentions of under age drinking/drug usage; mentions of self-mutilation/self injuring; and finally a rather convoluted and almost senseless plot. Also, I never use anyone's names, so I leave it up to your imagination who Micheletto's boyfriend is, but just for clarity, my OC goes by the name of Samantha, most often called Sam or Red by friends and family (the latter being only Micheletto in this case). Now, as this horrendously long Author's Note comes to a close, I present the disclaimer.
Disclaimer: I do not own The Borgias; that is copyright to both Showtime and history itself, though I do wish I owned Micheletto at times. His OC younger sister, Sam, however, does belong to me, so no using her without my permission, yes?
Ah, something else I need to mention - the idea to make Micheletto a history teacher isn't mine, either; that belongs to the lovely authoress Queen of War. I sugges reading her writings; they are much better than my own, and good deal more comprehensive, too.
As of late, there seemed to be an overabundance of one sort of action, in a certain modest three-bedroom house. The house, as most in suburbia, was nondescript and unremarkable; the occupants, however, were not. After all, it wasn't everyday that one came across a seventeen-year-old girl living with her twenty-five-year-old brother. And yet, despite the odd circumstances – neither was very inclined to speak of how said circumstances had come about – they got on well; both were people of few words, so they cohabited amicably. Close as they were, as close as two siblings with an eight-year age gap could be, they often found they didn't need words to understand one another; they had, more-or-less, grown up together after all. Still, there was something different about their relationship… No, it wasn't anything incestuous, it was simply the fact that, fundamentally speaking, they were all the other had had for a very long time; he had been the only one not to react with disgust and hatred because of her personality disorder – both of them – while she had been the only one not to expect anything more of him than that he be her brother. (The fact that they had also bonded over their parentally-despised sexualities had helped, too, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.)
However, that wasn't all that there was to this once-peaceful cohabitation. The overabundance of certain actions previously noted, was that of pretending. Of course, there were the usual things one pretended not to notice or know about: She pretended not to hear him and his boyfriend nightly. He pretended she wasn't a complete bitch to everything that breathed during That Time of the Month. They both pretended that the oh-so-conspicuous line of pill containers/bottles didn't exist until they needed to take them or needed to refill the prescriptions. She pretended he didn't spend more time than was probably healthy on his lesson plans and other tasks which came with teaching a freshman history class. He pretended she didn't skip breakfast every day, only having a glass of milk for her medications, and probably lunch as well. They both pretended that holidays like Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years, and Easter didn't exist because neither wanted to have anything to do with those that should have been family to them, and then failed spectacularly, painfully. They both pretended the normal things, and perhaps one or two not quite so normal, but as of late, they had begun to pretend much more dire things, as well.
She pretended he didn't get more hurt by the one he both loved and called Master than by anyone else. (Lately more than ever, and it seemed that the intent had become to cause real pain, not just painful pleasure.)
He pretended she didn't skip school a few times every two weeks lately. (Her grades were still a high B average, but that was one letter grade less than she had been getting before.)
They both pretended that they took their medications on a regular basis, along with getting the prescribed refills when the time called for it. (She was suspended for a two weeks for putting a boy in the ER because he called her a dyke. His boyfriend had to bail him out of jail for trying to strangle the school nurse that had insinuated his sister had an eating disorder.)
She pretended that he cared more than he did about the things she did. (He gave her a lecture on the finer points of silent revenge, rather than on why she shouldn't have attacked the boy.)
He pretended she didn't come home at all hours from having spent the day skipping school with a shady crowd. (She came home at 3:00AM, relatively new ladder-rungs of scars climbing her forearms, smelling like alcohol and something sweet that, by the lookd of her hazy, dilated eyes, was no dessert.)
They both pretended that everything was fine. (She knew everything was wrong, but couldn't find the will to change it. He knew everything was wrong, but couldn't figure out a way to make things right again.)
And, though it hadn't happened yet, they both wondered if they would soon be pretending that they loved each other, too.