ooc// fic "antes que cases, vê o que fazes"
title, literally; before you marry, watch what you do.
When I wrote this fic, I listened to this song , particularly the first four minutes. The lyrics also fit the situation pretty well. Author's notes at the bottom. Enjoy~
"Gabriel."
Afonso hated that name. It was his second name (from Afonso Gabriel de João Silva, a name he was more than proud of, that he'd repeated proudly for his father when he was barely two and Martín had hit him for it--) . Afonso was Portuguese, after all, and his father refused to acknowledge that fact. He'd prefer the angel's name, the one he picked, of course--it was a name that meant punishment in Afonso's ears
.
So much for heaven sent.
They hadn't talked in a month. Not since Afonso had told him. He was getting married, to a man he loved with every ounce of his soul, a person he loved so much it resonated in every fiber of his very being. Martín had simply hung up on him. And it wasn't like Afonso had any second thoughts about telling him. He'd always been "the bad one" in his father's eyes, but he had tried to be civil, this time. He'd tried to tell him kindly, as a favor, because he at least deserved to know, right? And of course, he was shot down. God, he tried. He did nothing but try.
The voice in his ear this time was not strong. It was not forceful. It was weak, almost trembling, and Afonso had to start upon hearing it. Because that wasn't his father figure. That was someone else. His voice came through the phone tinny and hollow, but clipped.
"I have cancer."
Afonso dropped the phone.
--
The day Martín Carriedo was buried was bright and sunny. Afonso would never forget that. He'd never forget the way his business associates and such came to pay their respects, one at a time. It was a typical Mafia funeral, but there was one thing missing. There was not a single person crying. Even Afonso and Antonio, brothers, the legacy of the capo, were silent. Antonio wiped his eyes and sniffled, but never shed a tear, and Afonso? He just stared as they lowered the casket in the ground.
After everyone left, he was the only one standing there. Just him, and a gray tombstone marked with his father's name. He'd always been a man of his words, Afonso had, someone who liked to write until he couldn't even think anymore; and as he stood in front of the grave of the one person he had hated his entire life, he felt that little feeling bubbling up once more.
"So, you finally kicked the bucket."
Not the most eloquent way to start, but that was how it went. Afonso put his hands in his pockets and stared at the tombstone, almost expecting it to start talking back. Telling him how much of a failure he was. "I...guess I wasn't expecting it to go like this. I thought you'd die in a fight, not...of cancer. Even Mama was surprised. She's not here, but--well, she'll be here later. She can't just let you lay here in the dirt. That's what I should be doing, right? I should be dancing right now. I'm free."
Afonso swallowed thickly and knelt down, crouching on the freshly turned earth to rest his fingertips on the cold granite of the tombstones. "You were never a dad to me. You were Martín, and that was it. A bastard who probably cared as much about me as I cared about you but I--damn it, when I needed a father figure, you were never there-!" There, never, and his hand hit the tombstone in a fist, teeth clenched, head down, on the brink of tears--
Abruptly, he stopped. This was silly. Certainly, cursing someone's name on their grave was bad luck. No matter how horrible they were. And Martín was definitely horrible. He sighed and unclenched his fingers, whispering, "I hated you. I hated you so much. I still do--! I--when you told me you had this damn...disease, I somehow thought it was my fault! I"ve been feeling so damn guilty since I told you I was getting married, and now you just...I..."
"Afonso?"
The elder sibling looked up, startled. He turned his head to be met with the visage of Arthur Kirkland, his fiance, a downright worried expression in his green eyes--Afonso couldn't help but feel a little tingle in his chest at the very face. He stood, slowly, and faced him, expression unreadable in the now shadows of dusk, then pressed his hand gently into Arthur's. "Let's...get out of here. "
"But--"
"Please." he mumbled, looking up at the other with shiny, tear wet eyes--the Brit's heart jolted and he nodded, squeezing his hand. He'd never seen his fiancee look so...bitter, before. There was something heartwrenching in his expression--something that made Arthur decide to wait on the papers he had in his pocket.
"Give these to Afonso, with my love." Adalia had said, tucking them into his hand when he went looking for him at the funeral home, "He'll want to see them."
Arthur knew what they were. Paternity papers. And he knew the result.
But that could wait for another day. Squeezing his fiancee's hand, the two of them started to walk off, turning their backs on Martín's grave.
--
author's notes;; umm. so for those of you that don't know (and that's everyone but Romano-mun), the Carriedo family wasn't exactly the picture perfect happy family. They weren't at all. At first, Adalia and Martin were a couple in love; they were sweet and romantic, and well..a couple. However, Martin began to get more and more obsessed with the mafia; he started not coming home, even when his infant son Afonso was born. Adalia raised him, but Martin never seemed to be all that interested in Afonso. When the teen came out around the age of 13 or so, it was just like the final brick in the wall--the two barely got along as he grew up, and that was the final straw. The head of the family position was immediately shifted to Antonio, and Afonso and Martin didn't speak for years. When they did again, it was Afonso trying to reconcile the relationship, but to no avail. He's been loaded down with some intense guilt since Martin's death; it was one of the things I wanted to at least mention in this fic.
ALSO I FUCKING LOVE IGGYPORT. THE END. BT and it feels really weird to write that in one of my Spain journals. ;; I'll write some more fic exploring the iberian bromance sooner or later ;u;' for now it's two thirty am and I need to get up early to go see a movie tomorrow /o/ later~ ♥
ohyeah. the paternity papers? Martin isn't Afonso's real father. :'>
When I wrote this fic, I listened to this song , particularly the first four minutes. The lyrics also fit the situation pretty well. Author's notes at the bottom. Enjoy~
"Gabriel."
Afonso hated that name. It was his second name (from Afonso Gabriel de João Silva, a name he was more than proud of, that he'd repeated proudly for his father when he was barely two and Martín had hit him for it--) . Afonso was Portuguese, after all, and his father refused to acknowledge that fact. He'd prefer the angel's name, the one he picked, of course--it was a name that meant punishment in Afonso's ears
.
So much for heaven sent.
They hadn't talked in a month. Not since Afonso had told him. He was getting married, to a man he loved with every ounce of his soul, a person he loved so much it resonated in every fiber of his very being. Martín had simply hung up on him. And it wasn't like Afonso had any second thoughts about telling him. He'd always been "the bad one" in his father's eyes, but he had tried to be civil, this time. He'd tried to tell him kindly, as a favor, because he at least deserved to know, right? And of course, he was shot down. God, he tried. He did nothing but try.
The voice in his ear this time was not strong. It was not forceful. It was weak, almost trembling, and Afonso had to start upon hearing it. Because that wasn't his father figure. That was someone else. His voice came through the phone tinny and hollow, but clipped.
"I have cancer."
Afonso dropped the phone.
--
The day Martín Carriedo was buried was bright and sunny. Afonso would never forget that. He'd never forget the way his business associates and such came to pay their respects, one at a time. It was a typical Mafia funeral, but there was one thing missing. There was not a single person crying. Even Afonso and Antonio, brothers, the legacy of the capo, were silent. Antonio wiped his eyes and sniffled, but never shed a tear, and Afonso? He just stared as they lowered the casket in the ground.
After everyone left, he was the only one standing there. Just him, and a gray tombstone marked with his father's name. He'd always been a man of his words, Afonso had, someone who liked to write until he couldn't even think anymore; and as he stood in front of the grave of the one person he had hated his entire life, he felt that little feeling bubbling up once more.
"So, you finally kicked the bucket."
Not the most eloquent way to start, but that was how it went. Afonso put his hands in his pockets and stared at the tombstone, almost expecting it to start talking back. Telling him how much of a failure he was. "I...guess I wasn't expecting it to go like this. I thought you'd die in a fight, not...of cancer. Even Mama was surprised. She's not here, but--well, she'll be here later. She can't just let you lay here in the dirt. That's what I should be doing, right? I should be dancing right now. I'm free."
Afonso swallowed thickly and knelt down, crouching on the freshly turned earth to rest his fingertips on the cold granite of the tombstones. "You were never a dad to me. You were Martín, and that was it. A bastard who probably cared as much about me as I cared about you but I--damn it, when I needed a father figure, you were never there-!" There, never, and his hand hit the tombstone in a fist, teeth clenched, head down, on the brink of tears--
Abruptly, he stopped. This was silly. Certainly, cursing someone's name on their grave was bad luck. No matter how horrible they were. And Martín was definitely horrible. He sighed and unclenched his fingers, whispering, "I hated you. I hated you so much. I still do--! I--when you told me you had this damn...disease, I somehow thought it was my fault! I"ve been feeling so damn guilty since I told you I was getting married, and now you just...I..."
"Afonso?"
The elder sibling looked up, startled. He turned his head to be met with the visage of Arthur Kirkland, his fiance, a downright worried expression in his green eyes--Afonso couldn't help but feel a little tingle in his chest at the very face. He stood, slowly, and faced him, expression unreadable in the now shadows of dusk, then pressed his hand gently into Arthur's. "Let's...get out of here. "
"But--"
"Please." he mumbled, looking up at the other with shiny, tear wet eyes--the Brit's heart jolted and he nodded, squeezing his hand. He'd never seen his fiancee look so...bitter, before. There was something heartwrenching in his expression--something that made Arthur decide to wait on the papers he had in his pocket.
"Give these to Afonso, with my love." Adalia had said, tucking them into his hand when he went looking for him at the funeral home, "He'll want to see them."
Arthur knew what they were. Paternity papers. And he knew the result.
But that could wait for another day. Squeezing his fiancee's hand, the two of them started to walk off, turning their backs on Martín's grave.
--
author's notes;; umm. so for those of you that don't know (and that's everyone but Romano-mun), the Carriedo family wasn't exactly the picture perfect happy family. They weren't at all. At first, Adalia and Martin were a couple in love; they were sweet and romantic, and well..a couple. However, Martin began to get more and more obsessed with the mafia; he started not coming home, even when his infant son Afonso was born. Adalia raised him, but Martin never seemed to be all that interested in Afonso. When the teen came out around the age of 13 or so, it was just like the final brick in the wall--the two barely got along as he grew up, and that was the final straw. The head of the family position was immediately shifted to Antonio, and Afonso and Martin didn't speak for years. When they did again, it was Afonso trying to reconcile the relationship, but to no avail. He's been loaded down with some intense guilt since Martin's death; it was one of the things I wanted to at least mention in this fic.
ALSO I FUCKING LOVE IGGYPORT. THE END. BT and it feels really weird to write that in one of my Spain journals. ;; I'll write some more fic exploring the iberian bromance sooner or later ;u;' for now it's two thirty am and I need to get up early to go see a movie tomorrow /o/ later~ ♥
ohyeah. the paternity papers? Martin isn't Afonso's real father. :'>