A/N: here it is…the last chapter…enjoy!xD
My Porcelain Doll
Chapter Twenty-one
"It's like they're going on a honeymoon instead of going to the BBA Regulations Board to complain…" Oliver huffed as Robert and Johnny left for the airport, leaving he and Enrique without instruction in the Jurgen castle.
Enrique lounged on the couch and said nothing. The elder pair thought it was best to leave the two alone for two weeks…so that the blonde could get to the Frenchman once and for all.
The Majestics had basked in the glory of the World Cup for about three weeks. They had just gotten back from the capital and the euphoria of wins was still very fresh.
"What the hell are we going to do in a house that isn't ours?" the green-haired chef went on with his complaint. It Italian looked at him before standing up and going to his room.
"I don't know either…" he replied. "Want to go to my house?"
Oliver brightened. "Oh…of course!"
So they packed and left.
--
"Gustav!"
"Enrique!"
Oliver sighed and smiled; every time he went to the Giancarlo Palazzi, they greeted each other like that. It made him miss his own parents.
"How is my signorita?" the butler asked jovially; the blonde whacked him playfully and Oliver burst into laughter.
By now it was a known, accepted fact that Enrique was gay (well…so was Oliver) and neither info bothered the members of both parties. In fact, Gustav was even helping Enrique win the delicate French boy.
The trio moved into the living room, updating one another about happenings. Enrique and Oliver had much to say about the Barthez Battalion cheating.
…but of course the dominant conversation topic was the World Cup…
"…so Johnny and Robert left us so they could complain to the Regulations Board. They went alone…" Oliver was emphasizing, ending the statement with a mysterious air of gossip.
"As in only the two of them…" Enrique added, stressing the fact very much. "How are we going to make sure they even reached their destination?"
The old butler laughed. "You two are naughty…very naughty…" then he stood up. "Well young masters, I shan't hinder you any further from your purpose. Dinner shall be served in two hours." and Gustav went away, leaving Oliver and Enrique to themselves.
"Well…" said the lemon-haired boy, shrugging. "We have time to ourselves."
"I want to go to your mother's ballroom again…" Oliver smiled and dragged him to his old bedroom.
The small blue room was stifling hot; the only window it held was wide open, letting in the bright Roman sun, shining its hottest as it was soon to set.
Enrique stole a glance at him, sighing at his cowardice. He went to the window and ran his fingers over the dusty ledge…and laughed.
Oliver turned to look at him with a bemused expression on his face. "What?"
It Italian shook his head and smiled. "When I was four…I had a…er…childhood friend. She was the best and only friend I had till I was eight-ish. I had a closed life when I was young and my friend was my only stronghold."
Oliver stopped his search and listened to his best friend, whom in their years together had never heard him talk about his childhood before.
"Papa was perpetually away…" the blonde continued, staring out the window. "I got Amphilyon for my for my ninth birthday with a letter form papa telling me he made her exclusively for my use…by that time I had graduated from my home schooling. My friend and I now had the freedom denied to us for the better part of my childhood…Instead of making up for it, I devoted myself to beyblading and neglected communication with my friend. She knew what was happening, she wasn't ignorant too, that I know. Slowly she began to withdraw into herself and refused to speak to me. When I asked her what was her problem, she told me not to bother about her. I thought she was dealing with her problem on her own and obliged to her request about leaving her to it. It was the night I left for the Italian Regionals that I learned we were just waiting for a move from the other….we wasted so much time and I regret that now…After a year I returned to this villa with Rosette and Bianca. I was still waiting for my friend…a hello…her comforting hug…but I think she…left. Never knew where she went…" the boy sniffed quietly and turned to Oliver, who, frankly, was lost for words.
"She was very beautiful…kind…smart. I loved her…" Enrique stared at the dusty carpet. "She looked just like you…only whiter…" Summer blue eyes bashfully met shining lavender, awaiting any reaction. To his surprise, the pretty French boy was on the verge of tears.
"If you ever bothered to know her name…we wouldn't take this long…" he replied, voice dripping with emotion.
Enrique blinked. "What? I don't understand…"
The greenette took the blonde's hand and led him to his mother's room which he was shone to before, went inside and locked the door.
"Sit on the bed please, Enri…I want to show you something…" Oliver said before stripping down to his boxers in front of him.
No…I assure you Enrique wasn't used to that. With apparent surprise, he noted that the other boy had more prominent curves that Rosette, and that he looked very much like a girl from the back since Oli had his back turned to his as he chose some sort of garment from his mother's wardrobe.
The Italian watched his best friend frisk about the room in his skimpy underwear, unearthing shoes, accessories and other various items the blonde had no idea how Oliver knew were there.
"I'll just change…" the chef said. "Don't go anywhere…"
Enrique could only nod dumbly, he could hardly believe this was happening.
So far, he wasn't expecting this reaction from Oliver…he had made up his mind to profess love today. But then…
"Enri?" came the French boy's call. It blonde looked up and gasped audibly.
Oliver…looked like…a goddess.
There was no other way to describe it! He. Looked. Like. A. Girl!
Oliver's outfit was an elegant long gown made of sakura-pink, delicate, expensive Chinese silk. Embroidered satin shoes encased his delicate feet. His soft expression was one of love and pain. The delectable apple-red lips that stood out of his pale skin had traces of a smile, like one remembering a lost past.
"You don't remember?" he asked. Enrique couldn't answer, he was as red as a beet root.
Oli sighed. "One final touch…" he took off his beret and fixed his hair a bit before re-presenting himself to the blonde.
The latter mistrusted his sense of sight at that moment.
"P-porcelain doll?" Enrique came to and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"
Oliver pulled away. "Si'l vu plait, Enri. The past is past. I want you to love me as you love me, and not as you have loved the doll…"
The Italian nodded and placed the blue beret back on his now-boyfriend's head. "How long have you known?" he asked, happiness swelling inside him like an unstoppable balloon.
The grass-haired boy smiled. "Ever since we died of eating bread."
"Naughty…" the playboy replied huskily before devouring the other boy's mouth in a searing, long-awaited kiss.
END
A/N: do I need an epilouge? Review what you think…enjoy!xD and ciAo for now…