The Fashion Freak

He was…a bit different. Then again, to him, what exactly would be the definition of normal? Apparently, not him. Out of this world full of unfashion, useless slobs, the Italian man found himself thrusted right into the middle, the group of men he was with were terrible to say the least.

 

He hated how much of a slob the German was, how he could just sleep within his own filth like a pig and still be unfazed when flies covered his eyes. He hated how the Japanese man wouldn’t clean blood stains out of his uniform, leaving the ‘well-trained’ Italian to do the job. He even hated how his own brother would walk around with those filthy, blood stained boots, not caring whether or not he was leaving tracks.

 

It was enough to drive the poor elder brother insane.

 

He truly acted more like his little brother’s original than any other second player he ever knew. He wasn’t extremely bubbly like the Englishman, nor was he absolutely silent like the Russian. He, somehow, found the perfect medium.

 

Now, that didn’t mean he wasn’t an every-now-and-then murder like the rest. That was the common trait they all shared. He just enjoyed killing…cleanly. Unlike everyone else, he didn’t need to feel the blood upon his skin, or the warmth upon his body. When he needed to get the job done, he did so. Cleanly and efficiently.

 

But there was something else that he wanted, more than any designer could give him. It’s just…he just couldn’t put his finger on it. He would shake it off as if it nothing…but there was something his first player called….that just peaked his curiosity.

 

Amore?

 

That’s what it was. He was more than positive none of the scum bags he was forced to live with have ever felt something similar to that word. He was positive that no one in this dark world had ever felt it, and never would.

 

And he wasn’t going to be the first to change it.

 

 

 

He sighed as he sat upon the couch. There was nothing that this blonde haired Italian could do. He had already tried going shopping today, that ended up with a brawl within the mall parking lot. Tried cleaning, but when his brother and his friends were out, it was spotless before lunch. There was simply nothing that he could possibly do.

 

Which was exactly why he was listening to his brother’s infernal death metal music instead of his sweet, homemade Italian music. Why he had his phone resting on his stomach instead of in the back pocket of his designer jeans. Why he had a sketchbook and pencil in his hands as he tried to draw what his mind saw.

 

He was just simply bored.

 

He sighed in disappointment as another page was wasted, the scribbles upon the page nothing to what the man was dreaming up. Instead of trying again and ruining another perfectly good page within his book, he threw it aside and stared up at the ceiling, as if the details upon it could drag him away from the thing that captured everyone.

 

Luckily, his phone went off, drawing him a few steps out of the boredom and into reality.

 

He flipped his phone open to reveal a small message from his brother. He sighed, it was probably saying that he had another little broad who’s body needed dumping in an area only the blonde knew about. As his eyes scanned the message further, they only grew wider.

 

He wanted his elder brother to go where?!

 

Hey Fratello,

 

The guys and I are heading out to a club Friday.

They talked me into taking you with.

Be ready.

 

Great…a club. Loud music, alcohol, and everything that an Italian like him would just simply hate. He sighed as he ran a hand through his hair. Well, at least this would give him something to do Friday instead of being bored like he was right now.

 

‘Guess I do have no choice, I’m just going to have to figure out an outfit’ he thought sitting up as he heard the door open. He turned his head, only for his jaw to drop in horror.

 

“WHAT ARE YOU THREE DOING,” he cried loudly, the three bloody beings jumped slightly, “GET OUT BEFORE YOU STAIN THE CARPET!!!”

 

The Italian groaned as he sipped his drink, the music giving him a pounding headache. Having to wear his stiff suit while out of the house was bad enough, but the music here was just making his night worse. Every single girl had also tried hitting on him and, not that he didn’t mind, it was getting annoying. All he wanted was a bit of silence before he had to go back to his mess of a house.

 

But destiny had other plans…

 

“Big brother I wanna go home,” he heared a woman’s voice whine, discomfort deep within her voice.

 

“Oh come on, lil’ sis, it’s not every day you turn 23,” a male voice called, “I also wanted to get you out of the house. Enjoy it while it lasts, for it’s not gonna last long.” The woman’s first response was a sigh.

 

“Yeah, but being the designated driver isn’t much fun,” she mumbled, before Flavio felt an unknown weight appear on his left of the bar. He couldn’t help but turn his head slightly to see who it was.

 

Only to be shocked speechless.

 

Her hair was such a dirty blond, it almost looked brown. Her darkly tanned face was resting upon her right hand, pressing her skinny cheek and forcing it to clump close to her eye. Her body was dressed with an unhooked straight jacket, black paints covering her legs.

 

Her eyes is what caught his attention. Instead of one color or two, which happened to be a norm within this crazy town, they were that of a rainbow. Another sigh escaped her as she replied to the bartender only a water. Flavio only shook his head.

 

“Nah,” he spoke, getting both the girls and bartenders attention, “Get her a bloody marry, with a vodka shot on the side.” The bartend nodded while the woman shook her head with a negative look.

 

“I’m not supposed to drink,” she explained to him, a slight English accent filling a few vowels while not fully looking at him. The Italian only scoffed.

 

“Any woman, like any man, is allowed a drink,” he nodded a thanks when the bartender gave her the drinks.

 

“No, I mean I’m not supposed to drink at all,” she said angrily, turning her head to face him, “I am mentally unstable. Doing something like this with unforeseen consequences could cause deaths of innocent people.”

 

“Well,” the Italian smirked as he raised his glass, “A toast to being reckless.” The woman let out a slight chuckle.

 

“What’s your name stranger,” she called, her fingers wrapping around the red concoction as she brought it close, but not to, her lips.

 

“Name’s Flavio,” the blonde Italian bowed softly, “Flavio Vargas. May I ask what’s the name to the most beautiful woman I’ve seen?” He watched as the woman chuckled even more before using a finger to tilt his head up.

 

“Names Sara Jones there you little lover boy,” she cooed before taking a sip from her drink, “but if you really think that I’m an easy catch, well, you’re in for a rough night.”

“That’s just the way I like it,” he called back before turning to his drink.

 

Let's just say...after a bit of time and a couple of drinks, that night was restless.

 

 

 

Life isn’t always a fairy tale, isn’t that what they all say?

 

It’s been two years since he had ever even laid eyes on her, yet her figure was still burned into his skull. His fingers wanted desperately to touch even a small inch of her skin. His ears desperately wanted to hear that laughter in which replayed in his head as if it were his favorite song.

 

He couldn’t help but curse himself. If he wasn’t such a coward he would’ve asked the woman to run away from her brother and with him, instead of him running out on her. Even his younger brother was surprised at his actions…most of all his reactions.

 

That was the reason why he had appeared at the doorstep. Why his younger brother searched her out, and why he was staring at the beast of an older brother right now. It wasn’t Al, thank God, for that annoying man would just get on his nerves. Instead, he was met with the crazy British man and he could tell by his face that he already wasn’t wanted.

 

“What do you want,” Oliver called, his bright blue eyes swirling slightly pink, “If you’re here for my sister, forget it!”

 

“I just want to talk to her,” Flavio explained softly. Oliver simply growled.

 

“I suppose what happened between the both of you two years ago ‘just wanting to talk’,” the brother growled.

 

“What are you talking about,” the Italian tried denying. No one could’ve known about that…Unless.

 

As if to cause his delusional ideas to turn into nightmares, a small boy came from behind the strawberry blond haired man’s legs and glared up at Flavio. His hair was a bright blond and shaped like the elder Italian’s but his eyes were multi-colored like the woman’s he met so long ago.

 

“Uncle Oliver, who’s that,” the small body spoke, a growl softly in his throat. The English man sighed before he stooped down to pick the child up.

 

“No one,” he stated before he turned, beginning to shut the door until another little being came dashing past the blue and pink man’s legs. He looked similar to the one in the ‘Uncle’s’ hands, except his hair was a dark dirty blond and his eyes were blood red. This just had to be a nightmare.

 

Just then, a being came diving through the English man’s legs to grab ahold of the little boy himself.

 

“Are you kidding me Piz,” the figure screamed as a growl escaped its throat, “I told you no running around the h-,” when the gaze broke from the kid and up towards the adult, all hell seemed to break lose.

 

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE,” she screamed, scooting past Oliver and onto her feet, one arm holding the kid steady while the other was pointed at the man’s chest. Her eyes were crazily colored.

 

“I c-came…to…talk,” Flavio’s voice faded away as his gaze broke from her to each of the two beings. The one in her arms had a small smirk and an empty look to him while the other had a frown and anger written everywhere. The clearing of two throats broke him from the gazes of the children to those of two enraged adults.

 

“Talk?! TALK?!?!” screamed the woman, Oliver taking the child away and taking them upstairs “You left me alone at a club!!! If you wanted to talk you should’ve stayed!!!”

 

“I know,” Flavio said calmly, tears accumulating around his eyes, “B-but, damn it, bella you don’t understand what it is I’ve been going through for two years!”

 

“Like I don’t,” she screamed back, “I’ve been raising twins these past two years with my elder brothers! I’ve killed more people in the course of two years than I ever had my whole life! And it’s All Your FAULT!!”

 

“No, Sara please,” he begged, the tears streaming down his face.

 

“Just leave, Flavio,” she stated, much calmer than her last statement, “Leave before my brother gets his knife collection.” With a single hand she started closing the door, but the Italian wouldn’t have it.

 

“No,” he whispered softly, hoping it was enough to stop her from shutting him out forever.

 

“What,” she called, opening the door once more.

 

“I said NO!” With that he barged inside, grabbed ahold of the unbound straps and held them within his hand, preventing her from hitting him. He watched with patient eyes as she struggled to get out of his grasp.

 

“Flavio let me go,” she hissed, arching her back, wriggling, doing anything to get away from him.

 

“No,” he said softly, his freehand running against her cheek and through her hair before stopping at the crook where her skull met her neck. He felt as she stiffened slightly, almost knowing what he was planning on doing. A smirk was painted smoothly across his lips before he used only a wee bit of force to pull her close enough to seal the deal.

 

A kiss.

 

This one simple thing is what started this nightmare and, he hoped, it was a kiss that would end it. To negatives though, it didn’t. As soon as his hand had disappeared from the binding strips, the woman reached them up and pushed him away. Flavio’s eyes widened as they looked at each other for the first time in years.

 

“I’m not the woman you used to know Flavio,” she hissed, “If you think you can reel me in that easily, so you could just run away again, you’ve got another thing coming.” The Italian nodded softly as he shuffled his feet.

 

“You’re right, I can’t expect you to be the same,” he agreed, his hand reaching towards the knob, “I was just hoping that a woman actually…loved me like I did her.” He slowly opened the door and started leaving, only to freeze when he felt something wrap around his wrist.

 

“You know,” Sara said softly, “you were the first person ever to offer me a drink. I also believe that you are the only person who could’ve stolen my heart.” A sigh escaped her chest, as she looked up at him, tears threatening her eyes. “Plus, it would be good for the boys to finally get to spend time with their father.”

 

Flavio smiled softly, only to have it falter when he saw her crying. His heart started aching as her hands covered her face. It hurt him so much to see her like this, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. Her tears spilled over her cheeks and started staining his jacked with the salt, but he didn’t seem to care.

 

“Just…don’t ever leave me,” she whispered, her voice wavering from the sobbing. Flavio sighed, gently placing a kiss onto her forhead.

 

“I don’t plan to.”

 

“Mommy,” a small voice snapped the two from their moment and down to the dirty blonde red eyed boy at their feet, “Who’s this guy?” Flavio turned to Sara as she put on a small smile before stooping down to the little man’s level.

 

“Piz,” she said calmly before the other little boy ran up to them, “Guta, this is your father.” She turned to smile at the taller man as he felt his heart grow higher.

 

For once, he was glad he wanted to clean whatever messes there was, for if he didn’t, he would’ve missed this amazing opportunity. He found Amore, or love.

 

And it was all because he was being himself.

 

The insane

 

 

Clean

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fashion freak