.oo6 Traveling Abroad.


They met while she was traveling abroad, more like back packing across Europe like the majority of students say they do during college. In Italy of all the places, a place of love on many levels. The heart, the eyes and stomach. He was the prince of the streets, a regular mafia boy. Only the fact was he wasn't a low brow on that totem pole, the boy was a leader. She really didn't know how she caught his interest or his eye first of all. Maybe it was the crazy hair color she was born with or the fact she was a pitiful tourist with shitty Italian skills. But every day he'd show up with a thing of flowers or some Italian pastry, grinning like a sly man would. Poorly the man spoke English as she did his mother tongue. But still he tried every time to convey how beautiful she was, or how nice the day was going to be in the broken English he learned. Truly she was flattered but not interested in having a foreign relationship when she went back home. Because it would be a long distance endeavor and a slew of problems would crop up because of it. And Sakura didn't want to be one of those girls that got bogged by a relationship and its trivial issues such as 'when are you going to come see me?' or the ever patrolled fear of a man cheating on you when he lives else where or in a different country.

The pinkette had nothing against the nameless swooner, so she played along with him casually in hopes she wouldn't become attached then obsessed. Though she found her self-staying more in the country shaped like a boot than the others that she had traveled to. Maybe it was the appeal of the dark haired and eyed man of pale skin crooning to her or the delicious food that was everywhere. Soon enough the girl would have to think of moving on to another country and away from the budding 'love' she had for the country to places along the sea. Her feet paced along the old streets bustling with foot traffic of other tourists, regulars and cars. Pale jade stones traced the carvings upon the ancient cathedrals and buildings surrounding the area, slowly loosing her self to the beauty of art. All the while from a small café the man whom swooned her watched like a cat does a mouse.

His lips were crooked against the porcelain lip of the coffee cup. Rich hues glinted in the burgeoning afternoon light; never loosing track of the woman the man was so interested in. Madara thought he had her in the palm of his hand that the girl was to be his like his intentions planned. With all those gifts of fragrance and sweetening pastries, any other woman would be all over him, draping like loose pearls on his arm til he threw them away. Ahh but she, this little pink flower of crappy Italian vocalizations and wide eye admiration was different from the majority of native and foreign women he has wooed. Though she has accepted his gifts with quiet ease, she didn't hang on him or coo at how sweet he was. Simply a thank you was administered, before she asked him how he was that day and went on her way with gift in arm. This partially frustrated him because he wanted a fling and it was very obvious she wasn't interested in him no matter how swanky he looked or how many gifts she received. The girl would treat him with partial indifference though each time a small almost unnoticeable blush would rise to the apples of her pale cheeks.

His cousins noticed his frustrations, and the some times violent outbursts that strained through perfect teeth. Once or twice they followed him with Madara's consent to see what was wrong and knew once they saw the goings of the pink haired girl and their machismo cousin. It was agreed through out the rings of their crime family that it was his time to settle down and prove himself to the current don that he was respectable and stable. But no one would exactly rein his interest long enough to be that, until the American came along. Thick hair was cut short, almost messily about his almost almond eyes and 'perfect' pretty boy face that was oft the targeting of women. Those eagled eyes were ignoring the stares of many pretty gals, focusing on the one that ignored him and treated him as if her were naught. Female cousins and even his mother talked to the almost there leader on how to woo this girl.

Up until now all their methods failed, and his sincerity fell through as her pale leg was caught sliding through the thick doors of an art museum. It was unsettling that the pinkette was not in clear view and up he went stalking in to the building.

She was staring up at the large pieces of work, canvas with oils painted upon once creamy surface and framed by cheap gold leaf crown molding. Ballet flat covered feet traced the marble flooring, in careful admiration with hands snapping photos for friends and family of the sights she has seen. With a disposable camera of course, so far she had about 20 of those things in a large bag and those were used. A simple breath was drawn and the girl skirted about ancient prints, and other collectibles that were national 'treasures'. Sakura was completely unaware of the Italian mob boy stalking her through the halls of the almost emptied area. Maybe it was her fault, that she had selective sight and hearing but it was in full swing now and blatantly ignoring the quick pace of the boy.

In a emptied gallery surrounded by sculpture Madara's hands connected with her soft arms. Shock was preceded and the cheap camera dropped and skidding across the floor. She was spun around and before she could slap the assaulter, his lips crashed on hers bending them both like a pair of crooked trees. A soft melting taste of café au lait upon his lips as eyes widened to see that boy from every morning, kissing her! But of course neither could stop themselves, his arms drawing her quiet close and her own hands pinning his head in place. It was all very natural as if they had been lovers for a very long time. But like swimmers they went for air, parting ways and looking off and away as if something delightfully sinful happened. He when striking was angry, frustrated almost raw and she innocent and unaware. Her fingers touching her lips and eyes drawn to the floor mysteriously and he staring at vaulted ceilings and rubbing the back of his head casually. Then the outburst came.

"WHAT THE FUCK."

It was a surprising moment when a tiny thing of five foot two curses as badly as a sailor. Soon she was on him like an angry old lady who specifically asked for no help crossing the street. Finger jabbing his muscular chest spouting English phrases that he had no knowledge of. Her pink brows were daggered down, and mouth curled in an angry whisper. Quickly to nullify the poking his large hands grabbed her wrists and best as he could in the broken English that was taught in school.

"I am…in love with you mi amore."

Slowly those words thickly spewed as her own eyes widened at this. Lips were pursed in thoughts that could have been dangerous before. A couple of moments of silence she decided to speak back to him in a mixture of English and bad Italian.

"How can you be in love with me?! You barely know who I am, you don't even know my name"

That was the crux; he was a nameless lover who knew nothing about her. Besides the fact she preferred carnations with roses, sweetened coffee and treats that were a delicacy in America. But knew naught of her name, heritage, or interests that could actually link them together. Eyes narrowed before his face got close to her own, easily giving her an arguable statement.

" You girls do it all the time! Why can we men? Fall in love with a nameless stranger with barely any knowledge besides flowers and sweets.? Is that wrong?"

For a moment she almost felt sorry for him but took in to account that girls did actually pursue relationships with men they barely knew. Hell even she has done it in high school and it was quite embarrassing when the bastard she stalked turned her down. So her head nodded in agreement with this swiftly garbled speech that they both barely understood. A blush was staining her cheeks as the local security guards stared momentarily at the small ruckus before going on their own rounds. Both 'teens' stood staring at each other carefully before she finally verbalized her agreement.

"Yes it is true we do. I guess guys deserve to do the same."

Looking away was she, a slight blush tainting her face, as brows were quite crooked in their down wards slope. It was a mixture of faint anger and embarrassment. That day her long and awkwardly colored hair was loosely braided wither bangs falling around her face, clinging here and there to her flushed flesh. Slowly his rustic hand of calluses and work smoothed away from of those strands, allowing his eyes to be concerned; a rare treat for any woman. Slowly their bodies seemed to attract to each other like magnets in an 'abandoned' (almost) hall of statues and important pieces. Madara's arms were lightly around her upper body/ shoulder area and his clean-shaven chin atop of her head. Her warms draped about his waist in a lackadaisical manner and cheek smashed upon cologne-scented chest. Their legs began to rock to the faint music trickling down the hall, unconsciously going to the beat. If her logical side was thinking right now she'd throw a tantrum much like she did with Naruto back home or storm out of them instead of enjoying a quiet moment with a boy (ahem) man she grew fond of slowly.

Maybe she should learn to enjoy her time here then denying the attentions of a suave boy who couldn't obviously hurt her when she moved back home or to another country. A fling so to speak as a soft smile coiled at the though sending him wrong messages to the dark haired lad cupping her so gently. As just like her two parts warred about the conditions of being seen cuddling some girl that he didn't know to well by mafia members and her feelings for him. The man knew very damn well she could consider this all to be a 'spring' fling as most of his friends were often duped by pretty girls and their practiced words. It wouldn't happen, he wouldn't let it happen if any one to be fooled and broken it was her if she deserved it. Carefully she parted from him walking over to her discarded camera and picking it up and stowing it in her bag. Those pale hues stared at him momentarily, lips parting to start another conversation.

"Ok, I accept a date from you, ONE date. To see how you cope and act so please be realistic and no swooning."

Her finger pointing at him and eyes narrowed as Sakura was completely serious about the whole being realistic/ being your self-dealio. Both swallowed slowly and his black haired head nodded slowly agreeing to what she said; slowly comprehending.

"Good"

That was the final word in and she seemed to prance off like some well bred pony. Leaving him to follow her carefully as her mind trailed on the thought 'I love traveling abroad"