A/N: The translations to sentences are at the notes at the bottom! Expect Spanish from Spain haha haha ha. My grammar is shitty in both English and Spanish. I am so sorry. This hasn't being edited yet so please excuse it being horribly choppy in a few areas.
[Antonio's POV]
I had always believed in love. My parents told me that if there was nothing left in the world, I should have faith on love. They showed me the ways that love bonds two people. They gave me a caring home to go into. A home that was always warm and open. A slice of heaven in a country that once so rich and important but now had nothing but debts and poverty. A land full of richness expressed through our music, food and dances. I believe in love. Love binds people together like pages in a perfect book or syllables to a sentence. I believed in it more than anything and I was so in love with life that way.
There has only ever been one thing that I loved more than life and it was filming. From a young age I would watch endless marathons of movie classics. From silent films to the most recent ones, I had seen them all. Each of the stories in those films imprinted themselves onto my mind and making my world a cinema. Each day played by in my sleep as memories being played like a beautiful snippet of a great film that was still in the making. It went on and on until I got a camera from my parents when I was young. They had saved up for at least a month in order to get me that camera. I started filming little videos and then a hobby turned into what I am currently studying.
Studying film at university was something I couldn't do at home. I was studying abroad in America. I had been studying there for 2 solid years. Studying and working at a café and a restaurant in order to maintain myself there. I currently was doing my major. Our main assessment was to make a film completely from scratch. Scripts, panels, costumes and actors were for us to pick and sort and make. We had a semester to have this done. To make things difficult, they were sending us to different countries. I wasn't rich so I didn't really get a capital city like the others. I got a little town in the depths of Sicily, Italy. And to make things even more difficult, I was out of ideas.
I had 6 months to do this and to make it the best film I had ever made. I didn't have time to waste. I didn't have time to linger on possible ideas. I had no time to make something that wasn't perfect. There was absolutely no time for stopping half way. I had no inspiration and that put my whole title on the line. That risked my future and set me in a little frenzy inside.
"No no no no, escúchame Antonio. No te me vas a ir a Italia, y menos a Sicilia." My mother scolded at me through the phone. She was not pleased at all to see me go off to Sicily.
"Ya se mamí, pero necesito. Tengo que hacer lo para pasar." I begged in my first language. It was vital for my major.
"No. Ya te he dicho. No es no. Fin del cuento." My mother persisted on. She was always stubborn. She wept the day I moved to America.
"Amor, déjalo. Ya es suficientemente grande para cuidarse de si mismo." My father helped me out.
"¿Y si le pasa algo al avión? No señor santo. A mi niñito no." I rolled my eyes a bit with a smile growing on my face. She always said things like this. She worried so much for my safety. I called her everyday at least three times.
"Nada va a pasar. Siempre tengo mi cruz conmigo. Siempre rezo cuando voy a lugares nuevos y antes de dormir." I assured my mother that it would all be fine. She still didn't sound convinced regardless.
"No son los demonios que me preoccupan."
It's not the demons that worry me. I wonder what she meant by that
…
Upon arriving in Sicily, I was greeted by the organisers of the whole exchange program. The weather was much like at home. It made my nervousness fade away like water on a hot day. I felt so comfortable in this new environment. I had only been there for about 2 hours and yet it felt like I was back home with mum and dad.
"This is your apartment." The old organiser's voice croaked a bit with his thick Italian accent interrupting his pronunciation. He looked around 70. He had a tired expression and spoke irritated half the time.
"Ah, Grazie." I smiled at him. He looked a bit surprised. It was like he had been thanked before. Maybe he thought I didn't speak Italian. I mean, I don't but my Spanish helps me out with a few words, sort of. Or maybe he thought I was the stereotypical American. Whatever it was, he smiled back a bit.
"Just be careful at night, okay? Don't cause trouble, reggazo." He handed me the keys and left.
I roamed around the apartment. It was very rustic. The walls were brick and you could see them since there was no paint or wallpaper. Still, the bricks were a white sand colour. The doors were ivory white. There wasn't too much doors anyways as the apartment only had my room, the bathroom, laundry room, kitchen and living room. It was a bit smaller than the one I had back in California but, it felt so much better to be here.
The furniture pieces were all old and delicate looking but, as I started to unpack my things, I realised that my previous judgement was wrong. They all were the same ivory as the door and the handles were a rusty gold colour like the handle of the front door. It was all tied in together nicely. It was amazing that this place was rather cheap.
Jetlag began to hit me when I had finished doing all my unpacking. It must have been noon. Lazily, I took myself to my new bedroom. I realised that it had a balcony. My grin grew bigger. I pushed away my exhaustion. Opening the doors to the balcony, the breeze came in and greeted me with the lovely warmth. It held this lovely sea salt smell from the beach not too far. There was an arm chair out next to a matching table. Both made of a rusted gold metal. The chair had a cream colour cushion on it to sit. It was perfect.
"No son los demonios que me preocupan."
My eyes opened quickly as those words rang in my head. It was now around 8 at night. The shops were all opened still. You could hear the noise from the markets down the streets. The wind was biting my flesh with its cool ocean breeze. Inhaling that salty ocean breeze made a grin appear on my face. My little relaxation paused a bit as my phone began to ring. I quickly picked it up.
"Alo?" The voice on the other end of the line sighed heavily. I recognised it as my friend Francis' voice.
" Mon ami, I have been trying to contact you for the past three hours! Gilbert too!" I chuckled a bit sheepishly. They must have been super worried.
"Gilbert was about to call the Italian police!" Francis spoke like my mother a lot. He was always telling both Gilbert and I to eat healthy and to treat our bodies like temples. To be honest, he was gorgeous. He studied costume making and was top of his class. He got to do an exchange to London in England. He was a very caring person, despite seeming arrogant at first.
"I'm okay. I just fell asleep. Siesta time, you know." I grinned a bit. Francis sighed.
"Mon dieu, Aie pitié de moi." He muttered to himself. As you can tell, he is french. Born and raised there and brought to America when he was in high school. His English had become very good, still he had trouble with some phrases and pronunciation, like me and my lisp. "but, How had you settled in your little heaven?"
You could hear his tone change from a worried one to a relaxed and almost flirtatious one. "It's great here. I love it. It's like being back at home." My accent was still very prominent.
"Oooh, have you met someone yet?" His voice was teasing. It was always like this. Francis had always wanted me to find someone. My mother agreed with him there. However, I wanted to find someone that I would walk into love with. Falling is nice but you always get hurt at the end. That's why I wanted to walk into love, conscious of my decision and at the same time not be conscious at all. Sort of like walking and not knowing where you will end up. It was a journey that would probably be long and difficult to get through but, it made my heart beat faster just thinking that I would be able to do that some day.
"No, not yet. I only just got here." I laughed at the disappointed groan from the other end. I glanced at the market down the road, it's like it was calling for me.
"Mon ami, please. I beg you. Go out and find someone or I might have to start calling up people for blind dates again." He was probably pouting and sulking a bit. I cringed at remembering the many blind dates that he had set up for me. They were so awkward and I often didn't know what to say.
"No, no. I'm going out tonight and explore the town." I got off the comfy chair and went inside. I put my jacket on and grabbed my camera and keys.
"Good! Don't forget to call your parents. They are probably worried." I gasped remembering. I would definitely get yelled at. Francis chuckled.
"Okay! I will call you later, I'm gonna call them!" Francis laughed even more and bid me goodnight and reminded me to go eat something, as expected. I quickly called my parents and told them everything was fine. Mum thought that I had been kidnapped. As if that would happen nowadays, right?
The night air was so wonderful. I was in a small restaurant, eating the most delicious seafood pasta I have ever had. It was new and something that I've never had. The restaurant was small and near the ocean. It wasn't too far from my apartment. The walk gave me time to think about my assignment. It had occurred to me that I was still missing the flow of ideas. It's like I had been pulled out of the river of ideas in my mind. Like there was a drought of ideas in my head. Even if there was a new horizon and beautiful environment, my mind still lacked the flood of ideas I normally had.
My eyes began to wonder around. It was late at night, maybe 10 pm. It was much like at home. The streets were busy and lit nicely. Surely, my brain should have thought of something inspiring from a street that is so beautiful. From a city that is so beautiful. But it hasn't, not even a single thought. Frustration was beginning to invade my mind.
There must be something I can get inspiration from. After I paid for my meal, I walked out on the streets. I wasn't carrying my wallet. It's a trick I had learned from back home. I only every carried the money I needed for a meal and a bottle of water. Nothing more, nothing less. If I have change then I have money for an emergency phone call if I need to use a public phone. I'm carrying my phone so I don't need to have the spare change. It avoids being pick-pockets. What is there to pick if the pocket is empty?
Ocean breezes began to get colder. I went down the end of the market area. It was less bright since there were fewer lights. I wasn't looking; I was more concerned about my film until I walked into something I shouldn't have.
There, in what little light the moon could give, there was a man. He had a black suit and a wine red shirt. His eyes were hazel and were fixed on the moon. His face had a pained expression. He seemed so distant. He was muttering things that sounded like he was praying. I could tell he was Italian from the way the words were spoken out of his mouth. The way the foreign language sounded like a song sung right out of an angel's mouth. The man sat on a couple of wooden crates. His voice sounded so calm and still held a bit of aggravation to it, as if he was holding back a scream of anger. The moonlight only shined on his face, barely blessing the rest of him with any light. The more I looked at the scene, the more I became hypnotised.
I took out my camera and snapped a few photos before stepping on a bottle and those tiger-like eyes were on me.
Translations
"No no no no, escúchame Antonio. No te me vas a ir a Italia, y menos a Sicilia."
No no no no, listen to me Antonio. You are not going to Italy and even less to Sicily
"Ya se mamí, pero necesito. Tengo que hacer lo para pasar."
I know mum* but it's necessary. I have to do it to pass.
Okay so I know the correct translation would be mummy but I personally feel like it means more mum than mummy. Latinos, at least, always call their parents mami and papi. Regardless of the age you are, it is an unspoken rule to always use mami and papi. It's like a warm and respectful way to address parents. I use it a lot when I'm asking for something so that why Antonio is using it. Correct me if I am wrong XDD
"No. Ya te he dicho. No es no. Fin del cuento"
No. I have already told you. No is no. End of story.
"Amor, déjalo. Ya es suficientemente grande para cuidarse de si mismo."
Love, let him. He is old enough to take care of himself.
"¿Y si le pasa algo al avión? No señor santo. A mi niñito no"
And if something happens to the plane? No holy god. Not my little boy.
Religion is important here. Basically, the typical over protective mum not wanting to let her son go into dangerous places.
"Nada va a pasar. Siempre tengo mi cruz conmigo. Siempre rezo cuando voy a lugares nuevos y antes de dormir."
Nothing is going to happen. I always take my cross with me. I always pray when I go to new places and before I go to bed.
Like I said before, religion is important~
"Alo?"
Hello?
Its basically the spanish equivalent of moshi moshi in japanese. We say it all the time when we answer calls.
"Mon dieu, Aie pitié de moi."
Oh god have merci on me.
I hope you guys enjoyed it despite having the spanish sentences there to stuff it up a bit. I felt like writing it in English wouldn't make that much sense. It also felt odd. This is a first proper spamano fic that i have written that will be a long-ish series I think. It basically just popped into my head and wouldnt leave.
Anyways, thanks for making it this far into my ramblings. Hope you enjoyed~
||Ame