Legato
A/N – Another chapter this soon? I must be crazy… Urgh, there's no way I'm going to be able to keep up this pacing… Anyway, everyone, thank you so much for the reviews/alerts/faves! They really mean a lot to me! =^_^= I'm not sure if I can really reply to the reviews without spoiling anything, but I will say this; don't assume too much. :P
Warnings: Apart from the fact that this story is moving really slowly and will probably continue to do so for a very long time, nothing I can think of in this chapter. Unlessany of my readers happen to have been traumatised by green tea at some point in their childhood. Whichis entirely possible, considering that green tea tastes like pureed fish.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, nor do I own the Korean drama "My Girlfriend is a Nine-Tailed Fox" that Yong Soo briefly mentions. And I'm not sure I'd admit to it if I did :P
Chapter II – Homecoming
Yong Soo always knew the exact moment when Yao got home.
It wasn't the soft hum of his guardian's car smoothly rolling through the driveway; he never noticed that happening. Nor was it the jingling of the keys in the front door, or the sudden draught of cold, late-night air that seeped through the door as it opened.
No, Yong Soo always knew when Yao was home, because the older man had his own special way of announcing it every time.
"AGAIN? YONG SOO, WHAT ARE THESE SHOES DOING IN THE DOORWAY?"
Yong Soo glanced from his laptop, which was perched on top of the coffee table he had dragged over to the couch that afternoon. In the doorway stood a short man, brown eyes shadowed with tiredness, dark ponytail flicking as he irritably kicked Yong Soo's discarded trainers out of the doorway. Yao Wang was twenty-nine, but could have passed for a boy in his late teens; the rather high-pitched tone of exasperation he tended to adopt around his ward really didn't help, either.
"Hey Yao!" called Yong Soo, bounding over to the doorway and enveloping the older man in a bone-crushing hug.
"Don't 'hey Yao' me, I tell you every time not to leave your shoes there," came the muffled reply. "Do you do this in your parents' house? Don't answer that." He brushed through the doorway, rolling his eyes a little as he saw the altered state of the living room furniture. "The number of times I've told you not to do that, either…" he muttered.
"Do you want any tea?" the teenager offered, heading towards the kitchen nearby. Yao's eyes softened a little.
"That would be nice," he admitted. "Thank you."
"No problem!" came the jovial reply from the next room. Yao smiled, and sunk onto the couch, glancing at his watch wearily.
The frown returned.
"Why are you still up?" he asked, a little disapprovingly. "It's one am. Don't you have school tomorrow?"
"I was waiting for you to get home," called Yong Soo, poking his head around the arch that joined the kitchen and living room.
"I've told you not to do that. You never get up in the morning as it is, and I'm always home late. Why do you always do this?"
"Well, I had study to do as well," replied Yong Soo a little too quickly. Yao slid across and glanced at the laptop screen.
"Ah, I see," he replied sarcastically. "Very important study for your assignment on…" he paused, reading the screen carefully. "'…My Girlfriend Is a Nine-Tailed Fox.' Fascinating."
"I was taking a short break!" Yong Soo protested as he walked out, a cup of green tea carefully balanced in his hands. He placed it on the coffee table.
"Thank you," Yao repeated wearily, picking up the cup and taking a sip. "Now, shut that computer down and go to sleep. Please."
"What, are you worried about me, then?" asked Yong Soo, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he leant over the laptop and logged off. Yao rolled his eyes.
"Don't get your hopes up," he replied, shooing the teenager away. "I just don't want your parents to kill me if you die of sleep deprivation in my house." Yong Soo left the room, and Yao sighed, staring into his cup of tea in the vague hope that it might tell him how to handle his impossible housemate. So far, there wasn't any reply. He decided to try again.
How can I make him respect me? Yao asked the teacup silently. The answer remained elusive, probably buried somewhere in the cloudy green liquid. Yao shook his head. He shouldn't have agreed to take care of Yong Soo, but the fact still remained that he had. Now the teenager was his responsibility, and he'd just have to deal with it.
With a resigned sigh, Yao took another sip of tea, smiling a little bit as he tasted the perfect balance of tea leaves and hot water.
He did have to admit, living with Yong Soo had a couple of advantages.
Lovino marched through the door of the small, cramped apartment he was supposedly meant to call home, ignoring the cheerful greetings of his grandfather as he moved towards the bedroom he shared with his brother.
Twenty years old and still living with his family. There was something sad about that, he supposed, but at least it was practical. It wasn't like either he or his brother had enough money to live separately.
"Loviiiiiiiiiiii!" called a voice from the next room. Lovino winced, bracing himself for impact as his younger twin barrelled straight for him. One begrudged hug and a light kiss on the cheek later, and Lovino managed to extract himself from his brother's welcome.
"Hi, Feliciano," he said resignedly, appraising his brother with an irritated eye. Feliciano was a fraction shorter than Lovino, his hair was a shade lighter, and he suffered from the unfortunate affliction of a dopey smile permanently attached to his face, but otherwise there really wasn't much to distinguish the two brothers. They both had the same light olive skin and brown eyes, slightly-curled hair and similar features; features that, in Feliciano's case, seemed to be currently splotched with paint.
My brother, the brilliant starving artist. Hooray.
"How was your day?" babbled Feliciano, as Lovino busily inspected his shirt for any signs of transferred paint. "I've nearly finished that painting for the exhibition," he continued, not bothering to wait for the reply that Lovino probably wouldn't have given him. "Grandpa says it's a masterpiece, but he always says that about my artwork. I want you to tell me what you think!"
"I'm not the talented one, you idiot," Lovino replied shortly. "I don't care about art; it's not any of my damn business." He pushed Feliciano out of the way and stepped into his room, slamming the door behind him. Feliciano blinked.
"Lovi, what's wroooooong?" he called in a sing-song voice, trying to peer through the keyhole.
"What are you- I'm getting changed, you little bastard! Stop looking through the keyhole!"
"Waah!" Quickly, Feliciano jumped away from the door. "I'm sorry! Don't hurt me!" A few moments later, Lovino walked out again, dressed in a clean T-shirt and jeans. Feliciano was still standing near the door.
"I still haven't showed you my painting," he informed his twin, pulling him over to the easel that stood by the window. "Come on! You have to see it!"
"I don't care about your damn painting! I've been working all day and I-" He stopped, staring at the canvas in front of him. It truly was a stunning sight; a pastoral scene, radiating warmth and serenity from what seemed to be every single drop of paint that went into it. Lovino nodded and turned away a little irritably. Trust Feliciano to create something like that without a second thought.
"It seems OK to me," he confirmed grudgingly. Feliciano beamed.
"Really? You think so? That's great!"
"I didn't say it was anything special," muttered Lovino, grabbing the remote control from the cluttered coffee table. "Can you shut up now? I want to watch TV."
"Don't pay any attention to your brother, Feliciano," called a voice from the corner of the room. Gaius Vargas looked up from the book he held in his hands, his warm, laugh-line-creased eyes fixed fondly on his favourite grandchild. The man was in his early sixties, and wore his age well. "He's just in a bad mood. He probably got rejected by some girl today or something." Lovino pointedly ignored his grandfather, throwing himself down onto the couch and idly shoving a stack of magazines off the coffee table with one sock-clad foot.
"Feet off the table, Lovino. You're an adult."
"And you're both overgrown babies," grumbled Lovino. "So what did you do all day, Grandpa? Flirted with high school girls? Got in a fight with one of the other fossils at bingo? Or did you just sit here doting on Squinty the Artist while I did all the work again?" He glared at Feliciano, who happened to be living up to Lovino's new nickname, eyes closed as he leaned back into a sunbeam that was filtering past one of the horrifically ugly leopard-print curtains Gaius insisted on keeping.
"You really are in a bad mood, aren't you?" he said, a little bit more gently than his usual boisterous tone. "Go on. What happened today?" Lovino fumed.
"What do you think happened? The same shit that always happens. I go to university half the day trying to make a life for myself because I didn't happen to be born with the sun shining out of my arse like some people-" he glared at his brother before continuing, "-I work my butt off the other half trying to keep all of us alive because you've decided to become decrepit, and then get stalked by a busker on my way home."
"You get stalked by buskers every day?" asked Feliciano curiously.
"No!" snapped Lovino.
"But you said-"
"Ignore that last part," Lovino said exasperatedly, as a warm hand clapped onto his shoulder.
"Don't worry about it too much," Gaius told him, grinning. "I'm sure the busker will leave you alone once he realises how cranky you are." Lovino got to his feet, silently debating the ethics of punching his own grandfather in the face before turning and stalking back into his bedroom with a door-slam that resounded across the entire apartment.
"He didn't inherit my sense of humour, at least," Gaius said, looking supremely unfazed as he watched Lovino leave the room.
Natalia carefully treaded up the sticky, carpeted stairs, her eyes fixed on the peeling wallpaper as she tried to ignore the way the covered-up wooden steps creaked under her feet. They hadn't caved in yet, but that was no guarantee of anything. Natalia was only a small scrap of a person, but even her miniscule weight might be enough to break the ancient staircase.
Fortunately, and more than a little surprisingly, she made it to the landing without causing any property damage. Her eyes skittered across the landing, automatically falling to rest on a thick door towards her left, the number "24" clinging to its surface in all its tarnished, cheap bronze glory. She moved over to the door and knocked cautiously, before taking a step back and speaking loudly and clearly.
"Ivan? Are you home? It's me…" The door swung open, and a voluptuous woman with short, pale blonde hair smiled at Natalia from the other side.
"Natasha!" she called, instantly reverting to the diminutive form of Natalia's name as she ushered the younger girl inside. "I'm sorry, my dear… Ivan isn't home yet, but I'm expecting him back any minute now. Sit down, sit down! Are you hungry?" Natalia shook her head, obediently stepping into the tiny living area and sitting down in a rickety old armchair.
"I'm fine, Katyusha," she told her cousin a little exasperatedly. Katyusha was the kindest person she knew, but she could be a little overbearing at times. "Here. I made a fair bit today; we should be able to pay the rent this week." She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her day's earnings; about one hundred and twenty dollars in cash. Katyusha nodded and accepted the money, dropping it into a bowl balanced on a nearby table, her mouth curling into a slightly disapproving grimace as she did so.
"Natasha-"
"I thought we agreed you weren't going to ask this any more," Natalia cut in sharply. "I earn enough to pay my keep, and you and Ivan do the same. We're even." Katyusha nodded sadly, glancing down at her battered shoes.
"…I'm sorry," she murmured. "I just wish you'd at least try to get a different sort of job." Natalia turned away.
"Where is Ivan, anyway?" she continued irritably. "Shouldn't he be back by now? I wanted to see him…"
"He works very hard," Katyusha replied softly, easing herself into the second of the room's three chairs. "I'm sure he'll be back any minute."
"He should be back now!" Natalia replied harshly. "He shouldn't be making me worry about him!"
"He'll be back soon," Katyusha repeated. "Don't be so impatient." Natalia shook her head, mouth set in a thin, hard line as she reached up and pulled the navy-blue bow from her hair.
"You just don't care about him the way I do," she accused. "He's your own brother and you're not even worried about him."
"It's not even five in the afternoon. You're being ridiculous," Katyusha said firmly. "I'm sure he's fine." She pushed a duster into Natalia's hands. "Here. Since you're home, you might as well help me do some cleaning." She paused. "…I'm sure Ivan will appreciate your hard work," she added/ Natalia instantly jumped to her feet.
"Of course," she replied, eyes blazing with determination as she got to work. Katyusha smiled. It was easy enough to get help from Natalia, if you knew what to say to the girl.
AAnother Note on the Names:
Yao Wang = China
Gaius Vargas = Rome
Feliciano Vargas =North Italy
Katyusha (surname Braginskaya) = Ukraine
Ivan (surname Braginsky) = Russia