"Very funny, asshole, what's the real change?" I snapped, dropping the dollar bills back onto the counter. I couldn't even get a fucking pizza delivered without having problems. Fuck my life.
Feliciano and I used to come here all the time with our mother. So I came here today after Feliciano and the potato bastard went back to work, wanting to actually do something nice for a change, (and that in itself is a miracle, let me tell you) surprise my fratellino, but no, there's this new fucking employee who decides to give me change with a fuckton of bills, probably single dollar bills. So I only had a fucking fifty on me! Fuck you! Daan didn't exactly pay me in ones and fives!
"Sir, that's the right change," the cashier insisted half-heartedly, but I could still hear that dickish grin plastered to his face, so I knew he was lying.
My face flushed with heat as I closed my fist around the bills again, seeing no other path but retreat. I froze in place as the shop door opened with the same tinkle of bells that had greeted me as I entered. Great. Another customer.
"Have a nice day," the clerk snorted, and I heard a soft thud, probably signifying him leaning his elbow on the counter, utterly carefree. The fucker.
"Go fuck yourself," I muttered darkly, and turned to go, pulling Whiskey probably a little harder than I actually had to in order to get her to turn away from the tantalizing scents drifting from the kitchen. They had been pulling me in, too, (Oregano, basil, tomato, baked bread, fuck yes I love that shit.) until I realized my mistake in trying to pay with a fifty while alone in a shop. At which point I stopped sniffing and started internally panicking.
"Is there a problem here?" A new voice asked, from just in front of me. The new customer. But I could almost swear... His voice came from above me; he was tall. He sounded slightly childish, perhaps a young adult still. Distinctly American accent, like most who lived in America. And yet... I knew this voice... "Oh! Lovino?"
"Shit!" I cursed, as I realized just who this was. "Alfred?"
"Yeah!" He laughed loudly, and clapped me on the shoulder gently. (Good, the bastard finally learned.) "It's good ta see ya!"
I knew Alfred from this stupid gathering Feliciano brought me to several years ago, some annual hike for people like me. A lot of them came with partners, romantic partners, like Alfred. Arthur, his partner's name was. This crotchety (though barely older than me) dickish British asshole. We got along instantly, of course. I just had Feliciano, and he grew friendly with Alfred quickly after they bonded over the artisan pizza at one of the food stalls along the way. We kept in contact, met up a few times, did shit you didn't need to see to enjoy. Brought Feliciano and Alfred to movies, and we'd sit up in the back and narrate what we thought was happening based on just the sounds of the movie. It was a good time, I won't lie. We're real close to these two bastards, now. They live pretty close too, actually.
"Yeah, if I could see you I'd say touché, bastard," I replied, good-naturedly. As close to good-natured as I ever get, at least. Then I paused.
Anyone else... a stranger, or an acquaintance even, I wouldn't have asked for help. My pride is too strong for that shit. But Alfred? He knows how it is dealing with people who are assholes to blind people. He'll help me out...
"Hey, Al..." I said, tilting my head towards the cashier, who I could hear swallow nervously. Good. The dick. He could see how big Alfred was. Didn't want trouble NOW, did he? That asshole... "Is this twenty-one dollars and fifty cents? I only had a fifty on me, and I can't..."
"I'll count!" He said cheerfully, but I could hear the threat underlying his words.
"Oh, um, s-sir, you forgot some bills here! I-I'll get them! They must have... fallen!" The clerk stammered.
"Oh, look at that. There ya go, Lovino, that klutz just dropped your change. This was five and a half bucks," Alfred told me, handing all the bills back to me, and then cracking his knuckles loudly. "Make sure ya don't DROP anyone else's money, ya fuckhead," Alfred threatened the cashier cheerfully, "Or me an' you are gonna have a little chat. Kay?"
"O-Okay, alright, fuck, sorry!" He hissed.
"Good! Glad we understand each other~" Alfred said, wrapping his arm around my shoulders gently and turning us both to head back outside. "Oh, but I'll be takin' my business an' all my friends' business elsewhere until I call yer boss later tonight ta tell him about this... little mix-up. Ya might wanna start lookin' for a new job.
I heard the cashier cuss loudly as the bells tinkled again, and Alfred pulled me out into the warm afternoon sunlight.
"Sorry," I frowned, pocketing the change and shifting Whiskey's harness to my other hand as we began walking away from the small pizzeria together. "I know you don't like threatening people, even though you're really fucking good at it, but-"
"Don't apologize, Lovino, ya didn't do anythin' wrong. I'd threaten a million people if they were all bein' dicks ta you or Artie. Seriously. An' I could see ya weren't gonna do anythin' about that, either, when I walked in. Please jus' call me when ya think shit like that is goin' down, I'd be glad ta come an' help out, really. You know I know how it is..."
"Speaking of which," I cut in, trying to stop him before my fragile pride took any more damage. "Where's Arthur? Aren't you two normally together like... absolutely fucking everywhere? And fucking everywhere, too, for that matter. Don't do that in my apartment ever again, by the way."
"Oh, yeah! I jus' came out ta get some pizza for Artie while he was gettin' used ta Scone!"
I didn't fail to notice how he conveniently avoided my observation. But... Scone? "Scone? Who or what the fuck is Scone?" I asked, not sure what he was referring to. "Is that a person or a baked good or...?"
"Oh! Yeah, Artie got a seein' eye dog! Jus' like Whiskey!" Alfred said, sounding pleased with himself.
"You bitched him into getting a seeing eye dog?" I asked, incredulous. Arthur liked being even more independent than I did. And that was saying something. But for Arthur, it was more because he had been born with his sight, and lost it when he was a teenager (during a bad time in his life) than because he wanted to prove he could. Arthur just wanted to be the way he was before. "That stubborn old asshole shut up long enough for you to get him a dog? Really?"
"Yeah, I finally talked him into it, seein' as he's always bitchin' about me not lettin' him go out alone since that incident on the beach. He named him Scone! Like the ones he tried ta cook and turned out all black an' shitty! Cuz Scone's a black lab."
Ignoring the irrelevant dialogue, I pressed on. "So he's acclimatizing to it, him, whatever the fuck it is now?"
"Yep! It's jus' the two of them~ And Scone's trainer. Artie's gotta show him where everything is with the trainer, an' let the trainer get Scone ta pick up on commands that Artie wants ta use."
That sounded similar to what I did with Whiskey when I got her, maybe... a month ago now? "I wouldn't mind meeting him later, but I don't think he'd take well to Whiskey showing up when he's still getting used to that shithole you call an apartment."
"Hey, our apartment is nice," Alfred pouted. "Just because it's not in the Italian section of the city doesn't make it any shitter than yours!"
He knew I was kidding though, and within seconds was back to telling me crappy jokes and talking about any number of useless things he did in video games or with his other weird friends. I might have liked hearing the stories, so maybe I didn't stop him until he'd walked me back to my apartment building, and maybe I invited him in. MAYBE. As in, there was about a 1% chance any of this had happened. And a 99% chance I left him on the street. Too bad I've never been good at dealing with probabilities...
"Want to stay for dinner, bastard?" I asked, as I hung my fleece up on the coat rack, and dropped Whiskey's harness, letting her walk around freely.
"I'd love to any other day, but that's what I was out for, gettin' dinner for Artie as a surprise... so I prolly shouldn't stay too too long. Sorry, Lovino..."
"It's alright," I said quickly, masking the little falter my heart gave when he said he couldn't stay. "Can't have you eating us out of house and home anyway, idiota. And I don't know if Feliciano wanted to have those clowns from next door over or what-the-fuck-ever."
Well. Actually I did know. I knew Roderich taught some little brats piano tonight, and Elizaveta had girls' night out with her friends. But... Alfred didn't need to know I knew that.
"Haha, who, Roddy and Lizzy? But they're great! They always come over our place, and Lizzy must really do well in that photography class of hers, she takes pictures all the time!"
"Elizaveta isn't in any photography class, Alfred." I deadpanned.
"What?" He laughed nervously. "Of course she is. Right?"
"No. She's fucking not. She's a lying skank, so next time ask to see what's on that camera, sì? I can tell you right now there are pictures of gays, gays, and more gays. Including the potato bastard and my brother."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"I'll just..." I could hear him beginning to edge out of the room, probably off to get food quickly and warn his lover what was really going on with that lying Hungarian skank-bag.
"Yeah. Ciao, Alfred."
"Bye, Lovino!"
"Bye," I murmured, as I shut the door behind him, and then slumped against it.
There was probably nothing worse than being stuck in this cramped-as-fuck apartment all alone with writer's block. But with a sigh, I stood straight and headed for the computer to type up today's events, in case they should come in handy once I actually began writing my second book.
XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO
"He's cute, you know?" I mused, stirring my latte with a stirring stick, before tapping it on the edge of the cup to get that last stubborn drop of caramel mocchiato goodness to fall back into the cup with the rest.
"No, I don't know. He sounds like an arschloch to me," Gilbert deadpanned, taking a large sip of his own coffee, black, with no milk or sugar. (I just have to cringe every time I think about how bitter that must taste. Gil swears it's an acquired taste though, and that he loves it.)
"Oui, mon ami... I know we experimented with it in college, but you were the sadist, not the masochist... I advise you not to meet up with this man again," Francis added his two cents, sipping delicately at his espresso. "L'amour is one thing, but l'abus..."
"It's not abuse, though!" I protested, struggling to explain it correctly in my mind before speaking what I thought. "It's... he's probably had to deal with a lot of crap from people! People are mean to blind people. If people were mean to me all the time, I'd close up too!"
"But nobody's mean to you because you're not a dick!" Gil insisted. "I don't care. If you want to get your heart all fucked up over this guy, whatever, Tonio. Just don't let it affect my fucking movie."
"Oui, no tear tracks ruining my gorgeous makeup job~" Francis hummed. "Or Big Brother Francis will have to get you fixed~"
I gulped and clutched at my lap weakly. "T-That's not necessary, amigo~ Please d-don't do that..."
"I won't have to if you don't mess around with this strange man~ I want to see him, by the way. What does he look like?" Francis asked, placing his chin in his hands and looking at me eagerly.
Gil finished off his coffee with a large gulp, and stood, after sighing, sounding refreshed. "Got to use the little albinos' room, ladies, I'll be back in a few," he announced, before slipping to the back of the small cafe, and sticking his tongue out at a gaping child on the way.
"Um... well his hair is like... mahogany, I guess, with this strange curl," I mused, thinking hard to bring up his image and describe it accurately. "He dresses well. You'd like his clothes... All really expensive brands. Mostly Italian, I think. He wears sunglasses, so I don't know what his eyes look like... But he has this cute face that gets really flushed all the time, and looks kinda like a tomato~"
Francis frowned, then said slowly, "That sounds awfully familiar, but I can't think of why..."
I opened his mouth to tell him it was Gilbert's brother's boyfriend's brother, but just then Gil returned, speaking on his cell phone, and I waited respectfully for him to finish.
"Ja... ja. We'll be right there, of course." He slipped his phone back into his pocket and rolled his eyes. "That new camera boy fucked up with yesterday's film, so everyone's needed back on set so we can do it over. It's time sensitive because of waves or some shit, so let's go, before we're too late..."
"Oh," I blinked. "That's unexpected. Gracias a Dios, para el café~"
"Oui, coffee does wonders, non? But anon, let's go. I do not want to have to wait a year for another tide of the right size."
"You don't even know anything about the tides," I accused, as I drained the rest of my latte in a few gulps and followed the other two towards the door. "It probably won't be a year, either Francis..."
"Non, but with all those fangirls stalking you for the extra month it might take to finish, it will feel like it for you, ami~" Francis taunted, flipping his hair over his shoulder.
"Not nice," I pouted, but followed my two best friends out of the cafe and into a cab anyway, still feeling content and light-hearted.
A/N: Um... hahaha so some lovely reviewer just reminded me it'd been over a year...~ I know this one is probably short and awkward but I've just kind of had it on my phone for the last... well... year... haha, so...~ I love you all...~ Promise I'll try and update soon~ I have like three quarters of the next chapter written~!