I'll Never Call You Maestro

I'll Never Call This Chapter 2

"Ignore it."

This is what Romano had said out loud to himself. For days this had been going on. And again and again, he would just reiterate to his council; "Ignore it." It was almost his own personal mantra, he'd say it in the morning, when he was hanging in the bathroom during hall passing, when he lay in bed at night and listened to the silence.

It was not an easy thing to turn his head from. The fact of the matter was, Romano had caught something. There were plenty of a variety of sicknesses in Castro Pretorio. Italy was not completely immune to the common cold. The district had an abundance of people from all over, there was bound to be some foreign floaters on a mission in the atmosphere.

Nevertheless, Romano was quite surprised at the fact that he had come down with something at all. His system had always been reluctant when it came to viruses. Even if he was sick, he usually toughed it out like always; he would not pull a "good for nothing I'm ill" like his brother naturally did.

But, the symptoms were an uncanny bunch:

Sweaty palms. Not something a person gets on a day to day basis unless they are working out all the time. Romano played soccer here and then, not as much as he used to when his grandpa was still alive. Having moist hands was an understatement to the scourge of this perplexing illness's effects.

Romano would feel listless in the evenings, when his brother would be calling him down for supper, and soon footsteps could be heard clopping up the stairs and lightly entering the way to his room, where Romano would be found staring mindlessly out the window, and sighing. He sighed all the time for no apparent reason. Like it hurt to breath in, that was also another of the symptoms. A warm, unsettling feeling in the hollows of his chest whenever he thought of-

No. Hell no. That son of a bitch was the bane of his existence. It was no rocket science that Romano would only feel that way when he imagined all of the perfect scenarios of the bastard's suffering. How he wished he could be there for every moment Antonio fell on his face. Every. single. one.

Concealing his excitement was hard to do when Feliciano's room was just next door. He stifled an evil laugh, but the devilish grin stayed put on his features. He had his tomato launcher skilfully camouflaged in the blue duffle bag beneath notebooks and folders of various studies, no one was going to suspect a thing.

Today was going to be great.

Romano quickly slung the bag over his shoulder, and took a gander at the mirror hung tightly by a nail on the doorframe. Jeans, socks and toms, and a red sweater. The sweater was an autumn shade of red, ripe for the season. On the front, the word Italia was stitched in orange thread to complete the look. It was casual, just as he needed to appear that day.

Romano nodded at his doppelganger in silent approval, then glanced back at his bedroom. Green walls, white comforters and an assortment of furniture were selectively placed in the spaces available. There were no family photos, they were all located in the hallway. A desk and swivel chair were useful and remained stationary at the back alongside his bunker. Romano was one of the only people his age to still own a bunk bed because he and his sibling used to share rooms, and then his brother was given Nonno Roma's room and Romano could choose to keep the shared one as his own. So that's what he did. It was not as nice a room as Nonno's, and Romano could remember feeling a twang of jealousy when Nonno pronounced Feliciano would get the room and not him. But no use crying over spilled milk.

Everything in place.The Italian was all set and exited his chamber. Shuffling down the Victorian stairwell, his feet met the edge of the carpet that belonged to the family room of the Vargas Villa.

The smell of spices and sauce wafted throughout the building and made Romano's nose tingle and his mouth water expectantly. He skipped past the family room and sauntered on over to his right where the kitchen was overflowing with the savory aroma of home spaghetti.