"Deo-chan! How do I look?"
Amadeo sighed, looking up over the top of his laptop's screen. Two gigantic, innocent blue eyes peered back at him. "Didn't I tell you less than five minutes ago to leave me alone?" he demanded, "As I said, I'm writing a poem for Rachel. I've ended every single one of my relationships on good terms and I don't want it to stop now. And for the last time, Cye, stop calling me 'Deo-chan'!"
"Buh... but I..." Cye drew back away from Amadeo, lower lip quivering. His eyes shone with tears and he clutched his heart as if stabbed. "I only wanted your expert opinion on how I look! I didn't mean to make you mad, honest. It's just that I don't go out nearly as often as you do, and I was hoping that you, my only father figure, would help me out!" Cye stepped backward a few times before turning around and putting his arms against the wall, his head resting on them. His shoulders shook and Amadeo could hear faint sniffs and sobs.
"Oh, give me a break. I've seen all of that before."
Cye turned his head to peer at Amadeo from underneath his arm. "You give me a break. You, ending all of your relationships on good terms? That's impossible! You've probably slept with over one thousand women," Cye lowered his voice, "And God knows how many men. How could they all have ended well?"
Amadeo scraped his chair back and stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. True, Cye was only fifteen-years-old, and Amadeo, being the oldest of the three men living in the building at twenty-two, was supposed to be the wise and supportive "Dad", but dammit, how could he be expected to put up with that?
"Cye," he clucked his tongue, "Poor, poor little Cye. I thought you were smarter than that." Amadeo took slow steps toward Cye, who was now facing him with his back from his heels to his scalp pressed up against the wall.
"No... Please, Amadeo, sir, Daddy, stop!"
Bending down to compensate for the half foot difference in height, Amadeo looked at Cye's closed eyes, inches from his own. "Last words?"
"I love you!"
Before he could blink, Cye had his arms and legs latched for all he was worth around Amadeo's waist in a pathetic attempt to make himself too cute to kill. The impact sent them both flying to the hardwood floor in a flash of limbs and glitter drenched clothes. When Amadeo finally found which way was up and managed to get back to his feet, Cye was still insistintly wrapped around him.
"Stop it, Cye! Get off of me!" Amadeo pushed roughly at the top of Cye's head and pulled small fingers from digging into his kidney.
Cye clutched and cried for a few more moments before giving up and dropping ass first onto the floor. His shaggy wheat blonde hair was disheaveled and his clothes were sittingly oddly on his deceptively small frame.
"You're not going to kill me. . . are you?"
Amadeo sighed, "No, as long as you promise to never do that again."
Cye suddenly popped up, a bright smile on his face. He smoothed his hair down with his palm and pulled his clothes in order. "Great! So, as I was saying, how do I look?"
"Horrible."
"What!"
Laughing, Amadeo walked back to his desk and sat down in his chair. He closed his laptop to rid himself of the maddening blink of his cursor and his hiddeous poetry to a girl that ultimately didn't matter to him and finally looked at Cye's choice of clothes for the night.
Knowing that Amadeo was actually looking to answer his question, Cye posed to best show himself off. He was wearing a blue pleather vest zipped only half way up his chest and black leather pants too tight for someone his age. Both of which were coated with a thick layer of multi-colored glitter. A silver studded dog collar was wrapped around his neck, a golden coin hanging from it with "Cye" etched in the center. The only thing he was missing was a pair of bitch boots, which Amadeo assumed were sitting by the front door as per their roommate Yuki's no-shoes-in-the-house rule.
"Where do you think you're going in that get-up?"
"Out?" Cye's answer was raised into a question, asking if Amadeo would let him leave it at that.
He raised his eyebrows. "Well, thankfully you look fifteen so nobody would let you into any of the bars around here, so you're probably going to a house party." Amadeo paused until he got a nod from Cye. "Where did you get those clothes, anyway?"
Cye's smile was so wide it forced his eyes closed. "I got them from you, silly!"
"In that case, you look great. You're missing something, though."
Cye stood still while Amadeo dug through the depths of his closet. A few pained exclamations and an "Aha!" later Amadeo reappeared with his hands behind his back.
"Close your eyes, Cye."
He did, then opened them twice as wide as eyes should open when he heard a tearing noise coming from Amadeo. He had gotten a roll of duct tape and managed to wrap it around Cye's stomache and hips before Cye was able to elbow him in the cheek and steal the tape.
"Why in the hell did you do that!" Cye demanded, trying and failing to get the duct tape off of his new pleather outfit.
Rubbing his already swolen cheek, Amadeo curled his lips into an evil little smile. "I know what goes on at high school student's house parties. You obviously do too dressing like that. It's beer and girls and sex. You don't need to be getting into all of that! You're a good kid with good grades and stuff like that is going to corrupt you. Believe me, that's exactly what happened to me!"
"Beer and girls and sex, hmm? I'm not stupid enough to sleep around," Cye narrowed his eyes at Amadeo as if to say unlike you, "I don't like beer, and you know that because you're the one who let me try it in the first place. As for girls, I don't even like girls anyway!"
Amadeo watched stunned as Cye stormed out the door. He sat down on his bed in the corner of his room, gingerly touching the forming bruise on his left cheek, feeling guilty for being so mean to a kid whose only family consisted of his two roommates and fellow assassins.
Amadeo sighed, looking up over the top of his laptop's screen. Two gigantic, innocent blue eyes peered back at him. "Didn't I tell you less than five minutes ago to leave me alone?" he demanded, "As I said, I'm writing a poem for Rachel. I've ended every single one of my relationships on good terms and I don't want it to stop now. And for the last time, Cye, stop calling me 'Deo-chan'!"
"Buh... but I..." Cye drew back away from Amadeo, lower lip quivering. His eyes shone with tears and he clutched his heart as if stabbed. "I only wanted your expert opinion on how I look! I didn't mean to make you mad, honest. It's just that I don't go out nearly as often as you do, and I was hoping that you, my only father figure, would help me out!" Cye stepped backward a few times before turning around and putting his arms against the wall, his head resting on them. His shoulders shook and Amadeo could hear faint sniffs and sobs.
"Oh, give me a break. I've seen all of that before."
Cye turned his head to peer at Amadeo from underneath his arm. "You give me a break. You, ending all of your relationships on good terms? That's impossible! You've probably slept with over one thousand women," Cye lowered his voice, "And God knows how many men. How could they all have ended well?"
Amadeo scraped his chair back and stood up, crossing his arms over his chest. True, Cye was only fifteen-years-old, and Amadeo, being the oldest of the three men living in the building at twenty-two, was supposed to be the wise and supportive "Dad", but dammit, how could he be expected to put up with that?
"Cye," he clucked his tongue, "Poor, poor little Cye. I thought you were smarter than that." Amadeo took slow steps toward Cye, who was now facing him with his back from his heels to his scalp pressed up against the wall.
"No... Please, Amadeo, sir, Daddy, stop!"
Bending down to compensate for the half foot difference in height, Amadeo looked at Cye's closed eyes, inches from his own. "Last words?"
"I love you!"
Before he could blink, Cye had his arms and legs latched for all he was worth around Amadeo's waist in a pathetic attempt to make himself too cute to kill. The impact sent them both flying to the hardwood floor in a flash of limbs and glitter drenched clothes. When Amadeo finally found which way was up and managed to get back to his feet, Cye was still insistintly wrapped around him.
"Stop it, Cye! Get off of me!" Amadeo pushed roughly at the top of Cye's head and pulled small fingers from digging into his kidney.
Cye clutched and cried for a few more moments before giving up and dropping ass first onto the floor. His shaggy wheat blonde hair was disheaveled and his clothes were sittingly oddly on his deceptively small frame.
"You're not going to kill me. . . are you?"
Amadeo sighed, "No, as long as you promise to never do that again."
Cye suddenly popped up, a bright smile on his face. He smoothed his hair down with his palm and pulled his clothes in order. "Great! So, as I was saying, how do I look?"
"Horrible."
"What!"
Laughing, Amadeo walked back to his desk and sat down in his chair. He closed his laptop to rid himself of the maddening blink of his cursor and his hiddeous poetry to a girl that ultimately didn't matter to him and finally looked at Cye's choice of clothes for the night.
Knowing that Amadeo was actually looking to answer his question, Cye posed to best show himself off. He was wearing a blue pleather vest zipped only half way up his chest and black leather pants too tight for someone his age. Both of which were coated with a thick layer of multi-colored glitter. A silver studded dog collar was wrapped around his neck, a golden coin hanging from it with "Cye" etched in the center. The only thing he was missing was a pair of bitch boots, which Amadeo assumed were sitting by the front door as per their roommate Yuki's no-shoes-in-the-house rule.
"Where do you think you're going in that get-up?"
"Out?" Cye's answer was raised into a question, asking if Amadeo would let him leave it at that.
He raised his eyebrows. "Well, thankfully you look fifteen so nobody would let you into any of the bars around here, so you're probably going to a house party." Amadeo paused until he got a nod from Cye. "Where did you get those clothes, anyway?"
Cye's smile was so wide it forced his eyes closed. "I got them from you, silly!"
"In that case, you look great. You're missing something, though."
Cye stood still while Amadeo dug through the depths of his closet. A few pained exclamations and an "Aha!" later Amadeo reappeared with his hands behind his back.
"Close your eyes, Cye."
He did, then opened them twice as wide as eyes should open when he heard a tearing noise coming from Amadeo. He had gotten a roll of duct tape and managed to wrap it around Cye's stomache and hips before Cye was able to elbow him in the cheek and steal the tape.
"Why in the hell did you do that!" Cye demanded, trying and failing to get the duct tape off of his new pleather outfit.
Rubbing his already swolen cheek, Amadeo curled his lips into an evil little smile. "I know what goes on at high school student's house parties. You obviously do too dressing like that. It's beer and girls and sex. You don't need to be getting into all of that! You're a good kid with good grades and stuff like that is going to corrupt you. Believe me, that's exactly what happened to me!"
"Beer and girls and sex, hmm? I'm not stupid enough to sleep around," Cye narrowed his eyes at Amadeo as if to say unlike you, "I don't like beer, and you know that because you're the one who let me try it in the first place. As for girls, I don't even like girls anyway!"
Amadeo watched stunned as Cye stormed out the door. He sat down on his bed in the corner of his room, gingerly touching the forming bruise on his left cheek, feeling guilty for being so mean to a kid whose only family consisted of his two roommates and fellow assassins.