Maneskin after hours - the life of a gang of Italian faggots

I

Point of view: Victoria.
Place: Rome, Italy.

    Another normal day started. I was woken up by the screams of Damiano and Thomas, who were arguing about something as usual. Before I went to the kitchen, I put on a T-shirt with the Nirvana logo that I once "borrowed" from Thomas and gray grunge pants. I looked at myself in the mirror and nodded slightly before heading down the stairs to the kitchen.

    The house we lived in together wasn't particularly big, but it wasn't a small clique either, because let's respect each other, we are a band that won Eurovision. In the living room, Ethan was sitting on the sofa, watching some Italian TV program, and in the white kitchen, Thomas and Damiano were arguing - the reason I woke up so early. I stood in the doorway and leaned my back against the doorframe, watching them. The singer was waving his hands in front of Thomas's face, shouting many insults in Italian. He was talking very loudly and faster than usual, so I watched them curiously. Thomas defended himself just as quickly and loudly. Finally I went into the kitchen to find out the reason for this argument.... When I stood in the middle of the white marble kitchen, I saw... Burnt pasta. Yeah, that means that Thomas tried to cook.

    Ignoring them, I went to the fridge and took out the salad that I had made with Damiano for dinner yesterday. With the salad, I went out onto the balcony, which had a view of Rome. I leaned on the railing, sniffing the fresh air. From the street, you could hear the sounds of cars and the shouts of vendors trying to sell something to tourists. There was a pack of cigarettes on the glass table on the balcony, so I pulled one out and lit it. I immediately inhaled, then slowly exhaled the smoke. I looked at the salad in my hand, which didn't look so appealing.... Oh well, I thought, Ethan will eat it, he likes salads. Once I finished smoking, I went inside and sat down with my salad next to Ethan. I looked at his long black hair and just handed him the box and he nodded.

- Damiano and Thomas are fighting because our friend tried to cook pasta again? - I asked Ethan. He nodded in response. I forgot that he rarely says anything.... I looked at the clock that hung above the TV and then at Ethan. The black-haired one returned the look and after a moment we started giggling without even knowing why. When we finally finished laughing, I realized the kitchen had gotten somehow quiet, so I said to Ethan.
- Can you hear it, too?
- Hear what? - He asked. We exchanged glances and both rushed towards the kitchen to see if our singer had accidentally killed the guitarist. When we looked into the room, we didn't see anyone inside... We didn't even know when the two of them left. Or maybe they each went their own way - also possible. I shrugged and I turned towards my friend.
- Do you think they killed each other? - Torchio asked. I shook my head no and went back to my room.
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Damn, I have no ducking idea what to write else so I think it's enough 💔 I think the next part will be out in about a week, if I can write it 🥲🥲.