Part 2 – chibiromano
Lightning lit up the sky, illuminating the world in flashes of blue. The child stood on a chair at the window, staring out at the sky. He jumped at each flash, telling himself furiously that it was nothing to be scared of. His hands were bunched into fists though, and he clenched them tighter and tighter on the window's ledge each time thunder boomed overhead. Shakily, he reached out and placed a small hand on the cool glass, feeling it rattle with the ferocity of the wind, rain lashing the pane relentlessly.
A sudden particularly fierce gust caught the latch, swinging the window wide open. The boy jumped back in shock, but not fast enough to escape being drenched. The wind, having found a new outlet, rushed into the room, making the boy shiver at the sudden cold despite the heat of the night. Rain poured into the room, soaking into the chair he was standing on and running off the sides, forming a puddle on the wooden floor.
Standing on tiptoe, the boy reached out of the window precariously, struggling to find the edge of the wood. He blinked furiously, trying to see through the water lashing his face. His hair was slicked back on his head, the curl that normally wouldn't lie flat now sticking to his face, water running down his back and making him shiver. Nevertheless, he tried to ignore it and continued to reach out for the window. His fingertips strained to reach it, his hand grasping on air. He stood on one leg, leaning out as far as he dared. It still wasn't enough. He stood on the top of the chair, then knelt on the window ledge, keeping one hand clutched tightly to the window frame. Just as his fingers brushed against the wooden edge of the pane, a man's voice cut through the wind, shouting to be heard over the storm.
"Romano! What on earth are you doing?!"
The boy, Romano, turned suddenly at hearing the voice. As he did so, his knee slipped on the wet ledge of the window. He fell forward, the air driving out of his lungs as he collided painfully with the ledge. His hands flew out in front of him, one catching on the window as it swung back in the wind, the other waving frantically, scrabbling for purchase in the air.
"ROMANO!" The man's voice was full of worry and fear. He pushed the chair out of the way, then grabbed hold of the boy's legs and drew him back through. Romano collapsed onto the man, shaking uncontrollably. The man fell backward with the force, and they both landed on the floor, panting in shock. The man hugged him fiercely, then took hold of his shoulders and shook him roughly. His voice was full of panic as he asked
"What the hell were you doing, huh? What were you thinking?"
Romano frowned, suddenly angry at the man's intrusion. He looked away, refusing to meet the man's worried gaze. After a moment of silence, he let go of the boy.
"You stupid little fool. Do you realise how dangerous that was? Do you? Answer me, Romano!" Romano couldn't find any words, however, his body shaking in fear and cold. The window banged against the wall again, making the two of them jump.
The man let go of Romano and reached out to shut the latch, locking the window and putting the shutter down. With the storm shut out, the room was plunged into a dark, warm silence. Romano stood where he was, dripping water onto the floor. His whole body ached from hitting the ledge, his wrist throbbing from hitting the window.
The man set the chair upright again, cursing softly under his breath when he saw the water soaked into the leather. He busied himself with pulling open a drawer, then lighting a lamp, illuminating the room with a gentle glow. Romano stood watching him, shivering slightly as he felt his damp shirt sticking to his clammy skin. He ran his hands along his arms, trying to warm himself up. His wet hair was still dripping down his back in cold rivulets, adding to the discomfort. He shivered again and sneezed, making the man turn to look at him in surprise.
Seeing the boy's wet clothes, the man strode over to him, picking a blanket off the bed and drawing it around him. Romano sniffed, wiping his nose with one hand, but accepted the blanket, clutching it around his thin shoulders. Satisfied, the man began wiping up the water around the chair, making sure the wood wouldn't warp.
"A-antonio?"
The man looked up from where he knelt.
"Yes, Romano?"
The boy looked away in embarrassment. A long moment passed, then he sighed and muttered.
"I'm sorry."
Antonio smiled in relief at the boy and stood up, walking over to him. He ruffled the boy's hair, then sighed as he felt the wet strands.
"I forgive you. But come, sit down. You're soaked through. You'll catch a cold if you stay like this." He drew Romano over to the bed and made him sit down.
"Wait here." He walked over to the small wardrobe in the corner of the room, taking out a fresh shirt and pants for the boy.
Romano looked around at his room, lit with the soft glow of the lamp. His bed was big, too big for just him, and covered in a mess of sheets and blankets. The wooden floor was covered by a large rug, scattered with toys. In the corner nearest the door was the wardrobe where Antonio stood, a large dresser next to it, with a gilt mirror above. A fireplace stood in the middle, unlit. A low table stood underneath the window, covered in quills, ink, papers and an expensive-looking leather-bound book. A telescope lay on top of some of the papers, along with a fleet of toy ships and a dozen or so little wooden soldiers. A chest stood at the end of the bed, painted a rich red and gold. Altogether, the room was a strange mix of opulence and plain. It was clear that he was a rather messy child, however, as clothes and toys scattered around attested to. Antonio cursed as he almost fell over something, and Romano looked away, not wanting to show his embarrassment.
Antonio stood in front of him, clothes folded over his arm.
"Come on."
Romano looked up in surprise. "What?" Antonio held out a hand to him. "You're soaked through. You need a bath to warm you up or you're gonna catch a cold." The boy looked at him doubtfully. "But it's the middle of the night. The servants are all asleep."
Antonio sighed. "I'll draw you one. Come on." When Romano still didn't move, he sighed and picked the boy up, taking him into his arms. Romano struggled, kicking his legs, then gasped as the movement made his wrist hit into Antonio's back, the joint flaring in pain. Antonio stopped walking, his gaze worried. "Romano? What's wrong?"
The boy didn't answer, but moaned in pain again. Antonio turned around and set the boy back on the bed. Romano sucked in a breath through his teeth, his hand automatically cradling his wrist. Antonio's eyes widened in realisation.
"Let me see." Romano shook his head, clutching his injured wrist. "Romano." At the sting in the man's voice, he reluctantly moved his hands away, allowing Antonio to see the joint.
The boy's wrist was red and swollen, looking bruised and angry. Antonio frowned. "Why didn't you say anything before?! This is bad!"
Romano looked away, shrugging. Antonio cursed again, in Spanish this time so the boy wouldn't understand him.
"I'm going to go and get something for this, alright? You stay put." He walked over to the door, then turned back as a thought occurred to him. "And change your shirt. Dry yourself off with the towel and put a new one on. I've left one on the bed. I'll only be a few minutes. With that, he hurried down the corridor outside, his footsteps receding into the distance.
For once, Romano did as he was told, glad to finally be out of his wet clothes. He dried himself off as best he could with the soft towel, gingerly rubbing his hair one-handed to try and get the moisture out. He gasped as he accidentally brushed against his sensitive curl, a shudder running through his body. He tried to put the new shirt on, then gave up when the movement aggravated his wrist, and sat back to wait for Antonio's return.
With his guardian gone, the sound of the storm was much louder. Although the window was now closed, the rain still lashed against the window, making the glass rattle. He stared at the lamp to try and calm his racing heartbeat, taking comfort from the soft flicker of the flame.
Hurry up, Antonio. Romano would never say the words out loud, but he wished his guardian would hurry up and return. The minutes passed, each one made longer by the sound of the storm still raging outside.
His wish was evidently granted, as the sound of footsteps outside the door signalled Antonio's return. The man entered with a large bowl and pitcher held in his arms, a small towel slung over one shoulder. He walked over to Romano, setting the bowl down in front of him. It was full of a number of little bottles, which he took out and placed on the bed next to the boy.
"Alright. Hold your arm out, Romano."
The boy debated arguing, then gave up and did as he was told, shuffling until he was sat on the end of the bed. He watched as Antonio poured the contents of the pitcher into the bowl, then added sweet-smelling herbs from one of the little pots. The water steamed slightly, the scent of the herbs rising along with the steam to fill the room.
Antonio balanced the bowl on the chest at the bottom of the bed, then gently took hold of Romano's injured wrist and lowered it into the water. The boy cried out as the water stung his swollen flesh, then relaxed as the heat began to soothe the pain. Antonio took the cloth and smeared some kind of ointment over it, making Romano wrinkle his nose at the pungent smell. Antonio looked up and raised an eyebrow.
"Don't complain. This wouldn't have happened if you had been more careful."
Romano scowled. "It wasn't my fault. You scared me, that's all. I wouldn't have fallen out of the window. And it wasn't my fault I hit into the stupid wall."
"Romano."
Hearing the anger in Antonio's voice, Romano looked down at his hands, biting his lip. Tears pricked at his eyes. In a small voice, he stuttered "I-I'm sorry."
Antonio's face softened. He reached up and gripped Romano's shoulders. As if a spell broke, the boy began to sob, tears falling down his face. He started choking out words between sobs.
"I-I didn't mean to. I just wanted to watch the storm. T-then the window flew open and I-I couldn't shut it, so I t-thought if I j-just climbed up I c-could. Then you came in a-and you yelled at me and it s-scared me a-and I fell and I hit my wrist a-and i-it h-h-hurts" his voice dissolved into incoherent sobs. He hiccupped, gasping for breath.
Antonio lifted Romano's hand out of the water, then dried it carefully and wrapped the poultice-covered cloth around it. He drew the sobbing boy into his arms, shushing him and murmuring senseless words of comfort. Romano's sobs calmed down after a while, allowing Antonio to lift him up and into his arms. He was carried carefully down the hallway, then set down on a chair in the bathroom. Slowly, Antonio undressed Romano, then lifted him again and lowered him into the steaming bath. The boy stiffened when his body hit the water, then relaxed, allowing the heat to soak into his sore body.
Antonio frowned, seeing the bruises already developing on the boy's stomach from where he had fallen. He took a soft cloth from the side of the bath, gently wiping his stomach and back, careful to keep the bandaged arm out of the water. Romano was calm now, his eyes drooping as the warmth of the water took away the pain. Seeing that he was beginning to doze off, Antonio lifted him out again and wrapped him in a huge white towel. Romano woke slightly as Antonio dried him, hissing slightly as he caught the sensitive curl on the side of his head when he ruffled his hair.
Once dry and dressed in a long white nightshirt, Antonio lifted the sleepy boy in his arms once again. He carried him through the house, stopping not at the boy's room, but taking him to his own. He lay the boy down, then walked over to his own, rather large, wardrobe and took out his own nightclothes. he stopped with his shirt halfway over his head when he heard a voice.
"This isn't my room." Romano muttered sleepily. He looked around, rubbing his eye, then blushed as he saw Antonio stood in the corner of the room almost shirtless.
Antonio looked over at the boy and smiled. "No, I thought you wouldn't want to stay there. Was I wrong?"
Romano looked away, giving Antonio all the answer he needed. He huffed and rolled over, then stopped as the movement jarred his wrist. He rolled back to lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling. He felt his body sink into the soft bed, tiredness washing over him again. He allowed himself to relax, his eyes drifting closed again.
Antonio smiled to himself as he saw the boy almost asleep, his small hands clutching the fabric of the sheets. He leaned over to press a kiss to the boy's forehead.
"Sleep now, little Lovi."
The boy, on the edge of sleep, frowned at hearing his other name, but didn't wake. Antonio slid into the bed next to him, then drew the covers over them both. He reached out to draw Romano close to him. For once, the boy didn't struggle, and snuggled closer to Antonio, his uninjured hand clutching the man's shirt. Outside, the sounds of the storm lessened, dying down until the only sounds were that of Romano's soft breathing and the gentle patter of rain against the window. A hush fell over the room, and Antonio let it lull him to sleep, too.
