Gift for reconquista - Part 5
Title: The Romolo Vargas Theater
Author: Asriel27
Recipient: reconquista
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Spain/Romano, Germany/Italy, France/Jehanne, slight Germania/Rome, slight Russia/America, mentioned in passing and vague Fryingpangle, etc.
Word Count: 8,260
Rating: R
Warnings: Excessive cursing, Boys love (of course), character death mentioned in passing
Summary: Antonio is the head male dancer for Francis' ballet company, and Romano is the surly stage painter that watches him dance in secret.
Author notes: The works mentioned are as follows: Hamlet, Romeo and Juliet and Macbeth are movies using William Shakespeare’s revised scripts. Coppélia (L. Delibes), Cinderella (S. Prokofiev), Giselle (Adoplhe Adam), Sleeping Beauty (P. Tchaikovsky), Swan Lake (P. Tchaikovsky), and The Nutcracker (P. Tchaikovsky) are live ballet performances. The Marriage of Figaro (WA Mozart) and La Boheme (G. Puccini) are live opera performances. Wicked (Stephen Schwartz) is a Broadway show.
Additional notes: I am NOT a fan of ballet. Sorry if it doesn’t focus on ballet as much. OTL I’m more of an opera fan. Also, sorry if I use very stupid terms about stage management and stage design. Google can only go so far.
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12 Antonio said so!
“Romano? Who? Gilbert, I think they got the wrong person on the news…”
Francis settles himself close enough to Antonio in case he freaks out.
“It’s true. Don’t you notice how he bosses the artistic crew around? He screened each and every one of us. It’s part of our contract and honestly, we respect him enough to leave him alone,” Gilbert explains.
“So… Romano is actually Rovino?” Antonio asks. His face is void of emotion.
“Actually, Rovino is his pseudonym. He says he gets the best results when people are clueless about him,” Francis cuts in.
“B-but Rovino is Rovino-”
“They’re the same person! Don’t you get it yet Toni?!’ Gilbert nearly screams in frustration.
“But why would he lie? And Rovino… why would he use a name like that?” Antonio asks.
“We don’t know exactly why,” Francis said, “He doesn’t want to tell but we just respect him and his choices. I don’t know what the media thinks though.”
Francis and Gilbert both grimace.
“What? What happened?”
“He, uh,” Gilbert started, “He sorta took charge of the situation so things are a bit bad on his end.”
“You mean, he took the blame for the show?”
“He’ll be fine, Antonio. He’s a well-received figure out there, whether he likes it or not. He just needs to lie low for a while or something,” Francis mumbles back.
“But that’s just wrong! It’s an accident!”
“It’s not an accident if the rest of the season’s tickets are left unsold,” Francis replies.
“How much are we looking at?”
Francis gives an uncomfortable smile.
“Shit.”
=0=0=0=0=
Romano rushes into the hospital room with a bunch of flowers. And a grocery bag. Antonio looks at his direction before smiling a big grin.
“Hi Roma! I’ve been waiting for you to visit, you know?” He pouts, “People are saying weird stuff on the TV and my doctor says I should be okay by tomorrow and uh the police came to get a testimony from me. For a moment then I thought they’d arrest me for, I dunno, a parking ticket? Anyway, don’t believe what other people say about you, okay?”
“Wait, what?” Romano stares at him wide eyed.
“I realized the other day that I’m allergic to some wild flowers, so if you have wild flowers in there, I should probably not hug them right now,” Antonio chatters on.
“I swear, you speak just as fast as Feli,” Romano mutters before putting the flowers down on the bedside table. He sits on the ugly metal hospital chair with his groceries on his lap and gawks at Antonio.
“Uh… Roma? All that staring is weirding me out,” Antonio stutters.
“Why do you call me Roma?” Romano asks him.
“Well, your real name is Romano, right? I saw you on TV. I wish they taped you more than they taped my ambulance or at least played your interview a lot more than they did mine. You look really good on TV. And I hate your nickname. I think Roma works a lot better. It’s more cute. And… Roma?”
Romano abruptly stands up. His face is red and the tips of his ears as well. He dumps the groceries on Antonio’s lap (nearly squishing little Toni, but Antonio swerved in time) and runs for the door.
Antonio frowns at the door as it helped Romano get away. He looks down at the grocery bag and finds succulent round and red veggie/fruits. He bites into one and smiles. Romano is not angry at him at all. It’s a relief.
13 Romano Vargas stole the show
“The fucking nail cut through him like a knife, you son of a bitch!” Romano hisses at the Russian. His grip on the man nearly rips the costume.
Alfred and Lars in his Rothbart costume hold him back the next second. By then, he is trashing about spewing curses and threats at anyone and anybody.
“Come brother, you don’t need to explain anything to those fools,” the bitch beckons to Ivan from the opposite end of the hallway and the fucker actually moves to follow her?!
“It’s them. They did it. That fucking bitch planted the nail,” Romano whispers urgently at Lars and Alfred. He feels both of their arms tighten on his and he winces.
Francis runs into the hall and commands the siblings to stay in the fucking dressing rooms. No amount of word he speaks can quell the anger Romano feels.
“But, that’s impossible, Ro...vino. I checked the place before. It was clean!” Alfred denies.
“She planted the nail in between acts! There was no way you could have seen her. Even I didn’t. But I saw her push Antonio down, Alfred. That bitch. I want that bitch to burn.”
“Calm down Rovino,” Lars grinds his teeth, “We can’t do anything to her right now. Calm down first.”
Romano doesn’t calm down. But he stops struggling and rights his clothes after they let him. His jaw is stiff as he faces Alfred.
“I’m sorry, Al. I told you they can’t be trusted.”
He sees the guilt vanish in Alfred’s steel blue eyes, replaced by cold anger. Romano considers it a big triumph, to turn one lover against the other. He busies himself with checking Lar’s costume for any wreckage. He feels Alfred watching his every move. He feels the American’s agreement in the silence. He decides to stay by the wings instead and watch the party crash and burn.
=0=0=0=0=
“Alright. You fucking win,” Romano slurs as he drags his body into the basement of the theater. Antonio dances on and ignores Romano. He needs to learn to tell important people secrets. To tell important stuff to people that matter!
Romano trips on the CD player cord by mistake. The music stops and Antonio whirls around to glare at Romano. Except he doesn’t glare long enough. Romano’s eyes are half-closed and he slides down on the floor. He looks unhealthily flushed and sweating too.
“Are you alright, Roma?” Antonio panics and runs to where Romano slumps against the wall. Romano waves his hands away.
“I said you fucking win! Now get your prize,” Romano mumbles under his breath.
“I don’t understand you Romano. Why are you drunk? Did you go to a party? You challenged Gil on a drinking match again, did you? You know no one can beat him,” he nags at Romano.
“Stop talking. It hurts. Ah,” Romano grumbles as he closes his eyes and slides to lie on the floor.
“Up we go then!” Antonio grunts as he hauls Romano’s body across the room, out into the hallway, into the elevator, out into the hallway again and into the spare room Roma gave him the key to. All the while, Romano would swat his hands, or his arms, or his face.
“I’m alright!” Romano shouts as he lands on the bed. He attempts to lie on his back but Antonio pushes him so he lies on his side.
“You’re drunk, Romano. That’s bad. You shouldn’t be drinking that much if you’re alone,” Antonio murmurs to the room.
“I’m not alone. You’re with me, aren’t you? Don’t you fucking go anywhere,” Romano mumbles and slurs.
“Yeah, I won’t go,” Antonio whispers in his ear as he sits down on the floor next to the bed.
“Sydenham’s Chorea.”
“What?” Antonio turns to look at Romano’s closed eyes and reddish sweaty face.
“I had it for three years. It was hell.”
TBC