I'll Never Call You Maestro

I'll Never Call This Chapter 7

Romano rested on the toilet seat in the men's restroom. His face looked utterly bored and his eyes drooped sleepily. Tapping his foot against the tile, he anxiously waited for the end of the period.

"Watching paint dry would be more fun than this!" He exclaimed. Then, as if the universe heard him, the bell rang. With a "Fuck ya!" he jumps up and throws the stall away from him, bursts open the bathroom door and struts out of the school. Bigger teens and younger kids surround him on all sides, blocking his way to the exit. "Graagh! Move it, bastardos!" He spits and stands on his tiptoes over clusters of heads and torsos. All these bitches are in the way and they need to move.

A large senior rushes into him on their way to the gym and knocks his duffle bag out of his hands; it fell to the floor with a crunch. "Noo!" Romano wailed and dropped to the ground pulling his bag inward toward his chest. Teens sidestepped Romano and two lines were formed around him. He frantically ripped open the carrier and smacked a hand to his lips. His tomato launcher that he had spent hours of rewinding YouTube tutorials to build the weapon was cracked all along the handle to the neck. "Rest in peace." He lamented, zipping the duffle bag up and slinging it over his shoulder once again. His head whipped around to glare in the direction of the dipshit who ruined his chance at double vengeance. The student was long gone.

"Fuck!" Was all he could say.

And if his day could get any better, the albino potato strolled up to him, even offering to give him a hand. The Italian smacked his hand away, hoping that it burned. "I don't need your fucking help!" Romano barked at Gilbert. Gilbert made a face of hurt and disappointment.

"I saw what happened. That douche ran you over and didn't even bother to say sorry. How not awesome." Gilbert said, shaking his head. Is he seriously trying to converse with Romano? He didn't bother to say sorry when he assaulted Nonno's Renault Clio! Pretentious little shit!

Romano shot blades at him with his olive eyes and made a hmph sound as he got up off of the floor and dusted his jeans with his palms. He decided he didn't even want to share a few more words with the creep, and so turned the other cheek and found a short path through the sea of highschoolers. But he couldn't help but turn back when a familiar voice sounded from his previous spot. It was his brother, Feliciano. God fucking dammit.

"Fratello, come back! let's walk home together! Pleeease?" Romano smacked a hand to his face and pulled on the skin with his fingernails, drawing them down his cheek like he was clawing his own face. He muttered a "fine!" much louder and more exasperated than a normal person would have mumbled, and with an irked expression turned back around to see a most frightful sight.

What. The. Fuck.

"What the fuck?!?" Romano burst aloud and stomped forward with a face drained of all the blood in his head. What had him furious was the impossible display before him of a haughty smug ass bastardo with his arm wrapped around FELICIANO! And Feliciano burying his head into the asswipe's CHEST! WHAT THE FUUUCK FRATELLO?

Romano, being the overprotective big brother that he was, stormed straight over to Gilbert and kneed him in the groin. Gilbert buckled over and clomped his hands on his dick shouting, "My vital regions!" over and over again and wallowing in pain. Feliciano gasped and gave Romano a disapproving look, but the elder Vargas disregarded it and grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward.

Feliciano whined, "Ow! You're pulling too hard. We have to go back and see if he's alright. Romano! Are you listening? Why did you do that? Why do you always do that?" Romano just kept dragging his brother to the exit, lips sealed. How dare he try and make a move on Feliciano! Fratello is so stupid and innocent, if he didn't have me around to watch after him who knows what might have happened? That German could have kidnapped him and held him prisoner at his house with the other potato bastard's help! I'll find one of my guys and have them sic the mafia on that son of a bitch. He'll pay! Romano's head grew full with angry thoughts and pandemonium, Feliciano's sounds of distress were blocked out entirely.

"Lovino!" His first name was called and that really got his attention. Feliciano had ripped himself out of his brother's grip, catching Romano by surprise. The Italian stared at his brother in disbelief. Feliciano's hair was messy and his curl cocked low to the side, sagging. His face was flushed and he looked out of breath. But his eyes... the honey dew color was toned to a dark and dolor river. Romano could hardly bare it.

"What..." Romano lipped.

"Attention students to the intercom. Attention. Romano Vargas, please report to the principal's office. Romano Vargas, please report to the principal's office. Thank you." The intercom clicked and the old woman's voice was drowned out by a hundred other youths. The Vargas twins looked to the intercom and then back at each other, uncertain. Romano turned away as he cursed. Che palle! What the hell did I even do to be called over to the principal? Wh-what if they know I have a weapon with me in the school? Chigi!

Lost in his thoughts, he forgot Feliciano was even there. "Alright, let's go idiota." Romano stuck out his hand and felt nothing but thin air. Feliciano had bolted the second he turned away, and Romano, with a groan, could see his back disappearing into the crowd and returning to Gilbert. Well fuck you too.

Obviously today was not going to end the way he wanted it too, with Feliciano and him driving home and eating a shit ton of pasta, then falling asleep on the couch after watching hours of Disney movies dubbed in Italian. No, today was going to end terribly; and the principal's office was only the beggining.

A\N
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