A/N: I'm sorry if the Omake had too much crack. I'm pretty sure Francis was proud of Pierre, though. I just changed his name to François because it sounds more French. Now for the long awaited chapter where France's plan comes in... This is also my early V-day special. I'll put the translations next to the word to make your lives easier.
Warning: This is the most poetic chapter.
I do not own the song "Forbidden Games," the version of "Spanish Romance" (the song) with lyrics.
Chigi! Don't tell me that I'm hearing things again!
The window. The music. The tomato-bastard playing that song outside my house.
The tomato-bastard?
Chigi! Don't tell me that I'm seeing things now!
The hallucination. The wall. The calendar.
The calendar.
Merda. [Crap.]
It's today.
Romance Anónimo
-Anonymous Romance-
Act 1/ la Serenata
-Serenade-
Antonio made sure he was well hidden in the shadow of the vine covered walls. His friends hid behind a bush, only a glimpse of yellow feathers revealing their position. Antonio didn't see the point of trying to conceal himself. He just made sure that his actions would go according to François' plan.
"Play for him, Antoine," he said, "Win his heart the way you did the first time."
Antonio plucked one string after another, increasing the volume as he noticed the silhouette behind the upstairs window. Lovino.
"Serenade him, mon ami," François insisted, "Show him your passion by-"
"I swear, one more poetic comment and I will pelt you with tomatoes!"
"You don't seem yourself today, Antoine. Nervous?"
"I'll just go with your plan," Antonio grumbled, then he smiled.
"Good," François grabbed Gilbert's elbow and pulled themselves lower behind the bushes.
The sounds resonated with every bit of passion Antonio put into each pluck of a string. François observed, his hand pressed down Gilbert's head into the mud and leaves.
"Sing, Antonio! Sing!" he whispered as Gilbert kicked, punched, and squirmed.
"Me? Sing?"
"Do it for Lovino!"
"Normally, I let the strings do the talking, but I'll give it a shot,"
Antonio placed his hand over the six strings, leaving the song at an abrupt pause, then he started playing it from the beginning.
Though it's forbidden for my arms to hold you
And though it's forbidden, my tears must have told you
"Il est un bon chanteur. I'm shocked," [He is a good singer.] François commented.
"Oi! I'm eating dirt here!" Gilbert pointed out.
"Be quiet, Gilbert. Can't you see this sweet moment?"
That I hold you secretly each time we meet
In these forbidden games that I play
"That's it! I'm going out there! There's no way I can be hearing things. Is he singing?" Lovino thought as he peeked out the window, only to see a glint of light reflected on one of the strings of Antonio's guitar.
"Run, mon ami! Run and hide! You cannot let him see you!" François commanded.
"Then what was the point of-"
"Run!"
Antonio got off his knees and on his feet. He fled the lot as the other two followed. Lovino saw nothing behind the bushes.
Act 2/ la Carta
-Letter-
It was wide open. Both the bathroom door and the shower curtain revealed Gilbert's mud covered figure. The water danced off his skin and splashed everywhere in the bathroom. Neither of his friends minded that he left them open, whether he forgot or if it was done deliberately. They accepted the fact that Gilbert was Gilbert. François took a short glance, chuckled, and went back to his work.
Antonio pierced the words on the paper with careful eyes.
"I am not sending that letter to him," Antonio pouted.
"Pourquoi?" [Why?]
"I don't want Lovino to think I'm a pervert! And if you wrote it, then it means nada!" [nothing.]
"Let me see you try writing him a letter," François challenged.
Antonio snatched the pen from François' hand, then he wrote on the notepad beside the phone on the nightstand.
Dear Lovino,
How are you?
Short, but sweet.
Act 3/ las Rosas
-Roses-
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I hate this day
I hate the bouquet of roses sitting on my porch
I hate how they're the color of fresh blood
I hate how they're the color of tomatoes
I hate how that François always had a rose with him
I hate how that François might be the one who left them there
I hate how they disappeared at six at night when I came back home
I hate how they were replaced by lilies the next morning
I hate how I actually took those lilies in my house
I hate how I put them in a vase next to my bed
I hate how they say
Dear Lovino,
How are you?
I hate how the sender is anonymous
I hate how my brother teases me about it
I hate how the song got etched in my mind
I hate how the tomato-bastard is clinging to my mind
I hate how I know that his name is Antonio
I hate how Antonio is suffocating my brain in a tight hug
I hate how I wish that Antonio was the one who sent the lilies
Io odio... [I hate...]
Act 4/ el Corazón de Piedra
-Heart of Stone-
Io odio...
Lovino slammed his hand against his face on the mirror.
What the crapola?
Act 5/ el Corazón de Chocolate
-Heart of Chocolate-
Ho mai ricevuto alcuna.
[I didn't receive any.]
Act 6/ el Corazón de Oro
-Heart of Gold-
"Alright, Francisco, what is your plan?" Antonio questioned.
"Mon plan is to say hi to him," François simply put it in.
"Say 'hi'?"
"Oui,"
That is the most complicated plan you ever suggested.