Feliciano stared forlornly down at his math test. At least a sixty two out of a hundred was better than a forty five, right? Forty five wasn’t even half. Unless the test was out of forty five in which case it’d be a perfect, but if it were out of forty five he probably would have gotten a ten.
“What’s up Feli, fail again?” A bulky kid leered over him and when Feliciano looked up, he could see his friends lurking behind him.
So he did what he did best, and smiled. “Not today, Martino! I got better than fifty percent! Ve~” He held up the paper proudly, red sharpie and all.
The mousy-haired kid rolled a pair of beady black eyes. “Dude, I think you’ve eaten so much spaghetti it’s eaten your brain.” Feliciano looked down at his plate of spaghetti. “Yeah man, and that’s not helping. I’ll bet if I squished all your brains out, the pasta would leak out your ears.”
“Squish his brains out!” One of his cronies called through cupped hands, and another came around behind him and rattled his head.
Feliciano closed his eyes and curled into a ball as his head was thrown from side to side and given a sharp thwack to the back. “Any pasta from his ears?” Someone shouted, but the words were dizzy through his screaming ears. His eyes stayed clenched shut, his arms pulled tight to his chest.
“No? None? Then I guess we’ll just have to try again, won’t we?” A hand grabbed the back of his collar. Feliciano moved to run away, because there was no shame in running like the wind from Martino and his friends, but one of them jerked his arms behind his back and held him down-
“Hey, hey! You fucking shit-faced tomato bastards, you leave my fratello alone!”
Feliciano hadn’t noticed he was crying until he cracked his eyes open and found his vision watery, and through the watery haze saw a trembling figure on the other end of the table.
“L-Lovino!”
Martino laughed hoarsely, and his friends echoed behind him. “Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do to us? Please, not the moustache again!” His friends crowed with mirth, the hands tight around Feliciano’s wrists.
“Y-yeah, you’d better be afraid, I’ll beat your stupid fat faces into a table and you’ll cry! Cry a lot, you fucking shitfaces, you deserve to fucking cry!” Lovino wasn’t moving forward but his fists were curled at his sides, and Feliciano wasn’t sure whether he wanted to scream at him to move or scream at him to run or to just scream.
The beady-eyed bully made the decision for him. “C’mon guys, this is getting lame.” The hands around Feliciano’s wrists fell away, and he quickly pulled his trembling hands back into his chest. “Have fun running home to mama, pasta brains!”
The four older kids strutted away, laughing gleefully to themselves. As soon as they turned the corner Feliciano flung himself at his brother, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest.
“Lovi! Thank you for coming, you saved me and I thought I was going to die!”
“Sh-shut up, Feli.” The older brother pushed him off, his hands stolidly on his fists. “It was nothing, I can take on fuckers like those any day.”
“Ve, you’re so brave.” His hands clung tightly to the fabric of his brother’s school vest. “And look, you even saved my pasta!”
And he smiled again, because that’s how Feliciano Vargas managed to make it through.
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Electrical Impulse (1a/?)
(Anonymous) 2012-02-06 07:59 pm (UTC)(link)“What’s up Feli, fail again?” A bulky kid leered over him and when Feliciano looked up, he could see his friends lurking behind him.
So he did what he did best, and smiled. “Not today, Martino! I got better than fifty percent! Ve~” He held up the paper proudly, red sharpie and all.
The mousy-haired kid rolled a pair of beady black eyes. “Dude, I think you’ve eaten so much spaghetti it’s eaten your brain.” Feliciano looked down at his plate of spaghetti. “Yeah man, and that’s not helping. I’ll bet if I squished all your brains out, the pasta would leak out your ears.”
“Squish his brains out!” One of his cronies called through cupped hands, and another came around behind him and rattled his head.
Feliciano closed his eyes and curled into a ball as his head was thrown from side to side and given a sharp thwack to the back. “Any pasta from his ears?” Someone shouted, but the words were dizzy through his screaming ears. His eyes stayed clenched shut, his arms pulled tight to his chest.
“No? None? Then I guess we’ll just have to try again, won’t we?” A hand grabbed the back of his collar. Feliciano moved to run away, because there was no shame in running like the wind from Martino and his friends, but one of them jerked his arms behind his back and held him down-
“Hey, hey! You fucking shit-faced tomato bastards, you leave my fratello alone!”
Feliciano hadn’t noticed he was crying until he cracked his eyes open and found his vision watery, and through the watery haze saw a trembling figure on the other end of the table.
“L-Lovino!”
Martino laughed hoarsely, and his friends echoed behind him. “Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do to us? Please, not the moustache again!” His friends crowed with mirth, the hands tight around Feliciano’s wrists.
“Y-yeah, you’d better be afraid, I’ll beat your stupid fat faces into a table and you’ll cry! Cry a lot, you fucking shitfaces, you deserve to fucking cry!” Lovino wasn’t moving forward but his fists were curled at his sides, and Feliciano wasn’t sure whether he wanted to scream at him to move or scream at him to run or to just scream.
The beady-eyed bully made the decision for him. “C’mon guys, this is getting lame.” The hands around Feliciano’s wrists fell away, and he quickly pulled his trembling hands back into his chest. “Have fun running home to mama, pasta brains!”
The four older kids strutted away, laughing gleefully to themselves. As soon as they turned the corner Feliciano flung himself at his brother, wrapping his arms tightly around his chest.
“Lovi! Thank you for coming, you saved me and I thought I was going to die!”
“Sh-shut up, Feli.” The older brother pushed him off, his hands stolidly on his fists. “It was nothing, I can take on fuckers like those any day.”
“Ve, you’re so brave.” His hands clung tightly to the fabric of his brother’s school vest. “And look, you even saved my pasta!”
And he smiled again, because that’s how Feliciano Vargas managed to make it through.