Saturday mornings in Colland even in March in Italy were cold, cold enough for jogging and a great deal of sweaty exercises. Since the change, he began doing a lot of exercises than he usually did. Coming to this new town for his first year, he already had his routine planned out for the rest of the session. He would jog from his apartment to the saint Lucy’s cathedral 300 meters away from his apartment, quite close to his college, for peace and hope to begin the new coming week; then he would jog to the D’oleivre bridge from where you could see the neighboring towns and villages in the distance, for a quiet moment with his thoughts and his soul and then he would jog back to his apartment and be who he wanted to be. Domenico Pietro de Cerintti.
He fitted in the keys to the door of the second floor apartment he shared with his part friend, part enemy, Bernard Marino. The door opened smoothly without the slightest noise and he stepped in, locking the door. The small cozy living room greeted him, the familiar scent of vanilla enticing his nose. Marino never really cared for orderliness; it was he who had to enforce the rule so it was no surprise that Marino’s shirt hung carelessly over one of the only two sofas in the living room, his game console on the glass centre table that stood between the two sofas and his foot palms littered on the expensive Persian chobi rug that was the main attraction of the living room. The rug had been entrusted to his older sister in their late parents will and it had been a great struggle to get her to give it to him. In her words, “something so special should be in a home not some rogue school apartment.” She had ended up giving him anyway after extracting thousands of promises from him to keep it safe.
On the right were two doors, one that led to a bedroom he and Marino shared and the other, the visitor’s toilet. On the left was the kitchen and a door that led to the verandah. White washed walls with olive accents, marble floors, paneled ceilings, huge windows on both sides of the TV and a good quantity of space were the order of the day.
He journeyed to the bedroom. It was past 7 am, Marino would definitely still be snoring to Mars. He was wrong. Marino was just walking out of the bathroom half dressed when he entered.
“Aha!” Marino exclaimed in his smooth deepset voice, his grey eyes twinkling, “I was just beginning to wonder if you got stolen.”
He shut the door, pulling off his jogging shoes. He walked past Marino without replying, heading for the shoe rack beside the wardrobe where they kept shoes.
“I know.” Marino continued, regardless of his silence, “Morning moodiness, not my concern. What’s for breakfast?"
“Where are you going?" He asked instead as he dropped unto his bed opposite Marino’s, “I’ve never seen you wake up this early on a Saturday.”
Marino smiled, his full mesmerizing cheeky smile without showing teeth, almost a smirk that charmed the pants off the population of Colland females, regardless of class.
“I have a surprise." He beamed, throwing his muscled arms out for effect, his italian heritage creeping into his voice. “But that’s not it for now, I’ll tell you later. “Fritata, coffee, milk?”
“Si." He responded, watching with curiosity hooded eyes.
“Va bene. Alla cucina! “
He shook his head, watching Marino prance out of their bedroom. Marino wasn’t always that bubbly, something was surely making him happy. And that something Domenico was sure, will definitely involve him.
Benard Marino, son of Kizito Marino, the worst and bearable friend on earth. He, Domenico, had met him while in Canada, on the short stay he had there. Marino, although had lived the most part of his 22 years in the USA and so behaved like them, still retained his Italian characteristics.
He blew out a breath, looking to his study table on the right directly in front of the tall windows that overlooked the street their building situated on. His engineering books he had been studying the night before were still there, opened. He hadn’t read much the night before and he had not also slept well. The anxiety in him was rising as each day passed and the seconds ticked. It was like a heavy rock in his chest that weighed him down when he walked. He knew the reason but he’ d never admit it to anyone, his new him would never admit weakness not even if they held a knife up to his neck.
The smell of warm freshly brewed coffee wafted into his nostrils and he breathed in deeply, shutting his eyes, allowing the aroma to sink in deep and calm his hungry soul. He wasn’t hungry for food or for anything material, he was hungry for something much deeper and dangerous and he yearned for it, his body, soul and spirit and he would not rest until he got it. He got up and headed for the huge wardrobe with white doors he also shared with Marino. He wondered how he had not killed Marino a long time ago, the new him detested intrusion of privacy. Grabbing a clean short and T-shirt, he journeyed to the bathroom to shower so he could join Marino for breakfast .
******* ******* ****** ****** ********* ********** *****
“What’s on your mind?" Marino asked him as they sat at the island in the kitchen, finishing their breakfast of coffee and exquisitely prepared Fritata. Marino was a master.
He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee as he scrolled through his messages, mostly from his sister and his flings in new York and a few from the school.
“You are acting weird. First you disappear for 7 months and when you finally return, you still don’t go to school for about two weeks and now you’ve finally decided to attend, you’re acting really weird and strange.” Marino explained.
He glanced at him and chuckled. There was something swirling in the brown depths of Marino’s eyes… concern.
“What’s funny?" Marino questioned, his tone evident of his displeasure. He shrugged again, his gaze already back to his phone. Concern….. an emotion he would never be deceived by. His phone was suddenly snatched from his hand.
“Try me and I’ll smash this phone of yours.” Marino threatened holding up his phone, his look challenging. He paused, retracting his hands only because he knew Marino would carry out his threat.
“You tell me your reason now for being weird in the next 30 seconds or I smash this phone.”
He glared at him. How the hell did you show concern by threatening to break someone’s phone?
“Hand me back my phone, Bernard." He spat, his hands outstretched
“25.” Marino counted, glaring at him equal ferocity.
“Benard.” He growled.
“23, and its Marino.” Marino growled back, his brown eyes becoming a shade darker, they ventured into a glaring contest, both of their chest rising and falling in anger.
“1.” Marino said and the phone went down on the marble tiles, the heavy sound piercing the silence.
Silence.
Then…
The dining table was overturned in a jiffy, plates and frittata, mug and coffee all spilling unto the floor. Grunts and growls, punches and hits for the next five minutes and they didn’t stop. He hit Marino harder with each punch, that heavy rock in his chest was suddenly pressing harder, needing release and he swung his fist harder, his breathing becoming heavier, his eyes glazing over with rage.
It was until Marino sent a stinging punch to his stomach and a heavy push to his shoulders that threw him off did he realize himself.
“What's wrong with you, Domenico! Were you planning on killing me!?” Marino shouted, up on his feet holding his bleeding nose as he stared down at him who was still on the floor.
He picked up his now damaged phone from the kitchen floor. The screen was badly cracked and the phone was not switching on. He swallowed down his anger. At least, he thought, he gave Marino a pretty good beating as revenge. Revenge… the word sounded sweet, familiar and foreign to him. Revenge… He rose, eyeing the shattered plate and spilled food on the floor. He walked out of the kitchen. Marino would clean it up. • A broken nose, a split on the lip and a swelling under the right eye were the injuries Marino suffered. Marino kept muttering incoherent complaint the whole minutes he spent cleaning up his minor injuries. “Of all days for you to destroy my face, its today! Today!” “What’s happening today?” he asked, crossing one leg over the other and swinging his damaged phone in his hands. “A freaking party! Fernando D’oseliotti’s freaking partito! And you dare destroy my face!” “Stop making a whole lot of noise. I could have done more, you deserve it. You smashed my phone.” H
They could already hear the italian sensation playing a good distance away from the magnificent villa Fernando D’osellioti owned. Fernando was the handsome, rich senior that hosted the best parties. His parties were popular and a rave. He threw it three times a year, spring, summer and winter. He had everything right, the large house, the unlimited alcohol, the music and what not but funnily enough, Fernando never attended his own parties or any other party; he had girls flocking around him but there had never been any news of him being promiscuous, rumors had sprang up but they were quickly debunked. Fernando was always with his friends or at some school gathering or meeting or any other clean social gathering but he always scored the highest at the end of each semester. Fernando was mysterious. That was the story his ears were filled with by Marino as they drove to the party venue. The wide double doors to the villa were wide open and one could see the inside from the outside clearl
She stood there, her mouth slightly open, her lashes fluttering. It really was him. He looked much different from the Domenico she remembered, the Domenico she attended highschool with. That Domenico did not catch her fancy, that Domenico definitely did not look half this alluring, that Domenico definitely wasn’t this confident or dominant. That Domenico had been anything short of badass. Calm Domenico, always smiling and swallowing down the harsh bullying from Leonardo and his crew with his head held high until… “You might end up breaking that glass if you keep holding it that way.” “Leonardo.” She sighed, relaxing her hold on her glass. “Domenico, huh?” She glanced at him to see him looking in the same direction. “He’s different.” She stated, bringing her glass to her lips then dropping it with a scowl when she discovered it was empty. “He sure is.” Leonardo drawled, a mocking look on his face, “disappears for what? 7 months? Comes back a whole new man. What’s he up to?” “I
He wasn't smug or triumphant or pleased. He wasn't angry or mad or furious. He was hurt. After his dance with Rosetta, he had endured another thirty minutes of nonsense conversations with prowling women and pride filled disdainful comments from jealous high school mates. After the thirty minutes, he had gotten fed up and he sent a quick text to Marino with the new phone he acquired earlier that day, 'I'm heading home. Find another ride or die trying." And he left for his car. He was still sitted in his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly with white knuckles. He was hurt. All his swagger and act and pride didn't chase away the vulnerable boy in him seeking acceptance. He was accepted alright but for all the wrong reasons. The women were only after him for looks and for money and the men either didn't even spare him a second look or spat pride all over him What was he expecting anyway? Warm hugs and friendly kisses? Friendly conversations and people actually concerned about his
Domenico ran a hand through his hair. First day of college or rather his first day of college after 6 months away from school. He wouldn't deny he was a bit nervous but at the same time, there was the thrill of excitement of the unknown. He stepped into the first lecture of the day. ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ "Hey, Fratello!" He turned back to see who the owner of the unfamiliar voice was. He just took the last stairs off the civil engineering department building. He was hungry, he wanted to visit the bar Marino had told him about that was somewhere in the school. He had checked it on the map and it was a trekkable distance. He adjusted his bag over his shoulders, tapping his sneaker clad foot on the ground impatiently. "Scusa." The boy, his agemate but with softer features that made him look younger, panted out when he reached him after practically flying down the stairs. They shook hands. "I'm Clemente." The grey eyed boy with hair that fell all over his face offered. "Do.... "Domenico de
"Hurry, Aryanna, we need to get to the mall as soon as possible." Rosetta ordered finishing her bottle of moretti. She caught the fleeting look of protest in Aryanna's face before it dissappeared. She was being overbearing, she knew but she was too far gone to care about anyone's feelings at the moment. What she wanted, she must get. Milena looked between the both of them. "Why do you need to go to a mall when you..." Milena paused staring at something behind her in surprise, "Is that Domen?" Her head whipped back since she was backing the entrance to the bar. Domen? Domenico? "Who?" She asked, her eyes still prowling around. "Domenico de Cerintti, he's heading for the terrazzo." Milena informed just as her eyes zoomed in on his broad back. "Domenico." His back view was exquisite. He exuded power and coolness at the same time. Why was he so cool? So her type of man? Where was he all these years? She had spent the last fourty eight hours wondering about him. If she had suspecte
Domenico glanced at the clock on his desk, it was past 2am and then noticed his phone screen had lit up. He cracked his knuckles and picked up the phone. Five hours of reading. He was getting better. Andrea was calling. He sighed, he didn't feel like talking to her and he also hated being disturbed when studying. He had put the phone on silent for a reason. The call ended and he was about to put down the phone when his eyes caught the call notification. 20 missed calls, all from his sister. He called her back in a flash, she picked up immediately. "Sister, are you okay? Is everything alright?" He asked hurriedly, his forehead creased in worry. Her sobs was what he heard. "Sorella? What happened?" "Talk to me, Andrea!" He raised his voice when she still didn't say anything. "Marco." She cried in-between choked sobs. "What happened to Marco? Talk to me." Her cries increased. He swallowed down his impatience, running his hand through his hair. Something was obviously very wrong.
Rosetta tapped her car keys against her palm, tapping her foot impatiently. She wanted to get home and rid herself of the suffocating clothes she had on and have a good long bath. However did Aryanna survive? “Finally.” She sighed when she sighted Marino walking towards her. “You do know I’m a busy woman, right? I don’t like being kept waiting.” She said when he was stood in front of her. He eyed her down and she eyed him feeling invaded. “Eyes up here, Mr.” she snapped her fingers in his face. He chuckled, finally looking her in the eye. “Domenico is one lucky man.” He said amusedly. She glared at him, why were the men she related with animals? Domenico would never ogle her so boldly. “Result?” she demanded. “A big no.” he told her, coming to lean against her car. Her heart dropped. “I thought you said he needed a cook? Why…” “Isn’t it obvious?” Marino cut in mischievously, “Because it’s you.”