Title: Amore
By: Lily and Jane
Notes: Lily come up with this ideas a while ago, but by the time I get around to put it in words, most of the original plots was forgotten. I decided to just wing it and ended up with this version.
Warning: This story will made no sense if you don't know the song 'That's Amore' by Dean Martin, googling the lyric will really help.
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Back when Lockon was just Lockon, the pilots were just the pilots, the crews were just the crews, and Veda was all that matter; there was a common consensus that Tieria never really live, that his was merely an existence and not a life. And Lockon, being the person that he was, thought that maybe, he can teach Tieria 'life'.
It started simple, a tap on the shoulder, a smile in the morning, a series of yes and no, of new favorites and even newer dislikes.
Then there was the first time he drink, the first time he attempted 'social life'. And the drink was bitter, and the establishment they were in was too loud, and he was hungry, and didn't like it, so Lockon ruffled his hair and made him dislike it even more. But they did left, leaving behind the girls that Tieria thought wasn't much appealing which Lockon had insist he spoke to.
And as they were making their way down the alleyway with all but one lit street light, somewhere off side there was music playing.
And Tieria's steps were swaying as if he was walking on cloud.
And he wanted the pasta Lockons insist they had last weekend, but this time he want them shaped like the stars over-head.
And the moon was round, and now he wanted pizza.
And they reached the one lit light and the whole world shine.
And Lockon laugh.
And somewhere, someone said 'that's amore'.
And bigger than when Columbus discovered America, Tieria discovered first love, and it was Lockon, and he was going to goes straight back to the Ptolemaios and hang himself, but then Lockon swung an arm over his shoulder just as he turned around and bodily dragged him to their next destination. And Lockon's arm was heavy on his shoulder, and Lockon's hairs was tickling his nose and Lockon's laugh was ringing next to his ear, and so maybe, just maybe, hanging himself can wait 'til tomorrow.
