Twenty meters away from the docks was an inn, it was moderately large with ivy vines clawing down the left side of the inn's wall. Its walls were painted in orange, and the four windows in front of the inn were opened widely to invite the humid air of the Smeraldo sea. The sign on top of the inn reads "The Sparrow's Nest" which the locals were familiar with as "The Kim's inn". The inn was packed full and busy with the sailors active around this time of the year, the rowdy bunch of sailors was sitting on the bar stools where Fiorello's father attended the barrage of orders from Booze, Ale, and Gin.
The other half of the sailors were sprawled out around the inn, all the seats were taken and full, and some of the sailors who arrived late looked for a way to sit in, which was hilarious in Fiorello's eyes, as some of them sat on top of the tables, some were leaning on the walls of the inn, and some were sitting on the pool tables. It was common sight every summer, so Fiorello paid no heed to whatever the sailors were doing as long as no fights break out everything is fine.
Fiorello was on his way to deliver five pints of ale and 2 plates of baked potatoes when his mother bellowed at him.
"Fiorello! Make haste! Can you please clean this table here?" Fiorello's mother waved over him, she was on the second level of the inn leaning over the railings of the terrace. "Thank you, dear!"
"Yes, Mama! Just for a minute!" Fiorello bellowed back and quickly passed through an encirclement of sailors who were watching a heated poker game.
Fiorello arrived at the table and swiftly distributed the 5 pints of alcohol among the table's occupants. He then slide the plates of baked potatoes onto the table and looked up to see Mr.Park, Mr.Lee, Mr.Sim, and Old Man Bruce downing their pints of alcohol. He just stood there waiting for the occupants to finish drinking. Old Man Bruce was the first one to finish downing his alcohol he loudly slammed the glass pint on the wooden table.
Thunk.
"Yeh, wimps! I finished first! Yeh're all righ' aren't cha?" Old Man Bruce wiped the excess alcohol on his lips and beard with his sleeve.
Old Man Bruce, the only worker on the town's lighthouse, was already 80 years old but is still able and energetic as ever, he's even drinking booze every day either in Kim's inn or his metal canteen. He's always wearing polo shirts in a chequered pattern and a poncho (Weird in Fiorello's opinion, who wears a poncho in broad daylight?), and his white beard makes him look like Santa Claus. Fiorello isn't scared of him, he's amicable and minds his own business, just his black mutt scares him, it was bigger than the average mutt, and it barks at him every time.
"No one here can beat you, Bruce!" Mr.Sim replied, he burped quietly, his body shook slightly. "You're always drinking every day!"
"I bet my pinnace that his body is made of alcohol!" Mr.Lee laughed.
"We should open him up then, I'd want the pinnace by tomorrow" Mr.Park suggested, as he pointed at Old Man Bruce.
"Oh! Bellissimo! Yeh here!" Old Man Bruce called. Fiorello just gave him a small grin. "What Yeh wan'?"
"Oh." Fiorello dumbly replied. "Uhm, just wanna check if the order I've brought is correct?"
Mr.Sim looked over at the table and gave him a thumbs up. "Yes, perfectly correct!"
"Bellissimo." Mr.Lee called, and Fiorello turned to him. "You're perfect for my son-"
"You fucker!" Mr.Park slapped Mr.Lee behind his head. "You're making Bellissimo uncomfortable!"
Fiorello just stood there, dazed and dumbfounded. He can't process Mr.Lee's words, so he just gave a half-baked smile.
"I mean! Look!" Mr.Lee insisted "He's beautiful which fits with my son's looks! He's kind and wise, a perfect match! You have my blessed, boy!"
"Yeh lot is barmy." Old Man Bruce commented.
"Absolutely." Mr.Sim supplied. "I think the booze already sloshed him."
I can't tell this to Renjun that the man's papa he's fancying for already gave me a go sign. Fiorello thought, he gripped the tray he was holding and shivered. I don't even like Jeno, he's an oaf, clumsy to the fullest, and always smiles without any reason.
"Well, then enjoy your booze, sires." Fiorello bowed jokingly and hurried out before Mr.Lee add another ridiculous connotation. "Goddess. Bless me. I'd rather not talk to Jeno."
꧁✿꧂
It was already late at night, around past 8 o'clock, it was already late in the rural side of Italy. Fiorello was already wiping down empty tables, collecting empty and half-finished pints, and grabbing the cutleries and plates. Still, the inn was still lively and rowdy, most of the customers were either sober or drunk-out-of-their-minds; some of them were dancing on the second level with old music playing out on the radio, and some were betting on the pool table.
"Psst." Fiorello's father called him. "Are you doing good there, bud?"
Fiorello gave his father a warm smile. "Perfectly fine, Papa. I'm also enjoying, Old Man Bruce sure has one of a heck alcohol resistance."
"For sure." His father replied and chuckled. "You see? There? They'll absolutely regret betting on the pool table. The players are a lost cause."
Fiorello gazes at where his father was pointing and he was right the players weren't even hitting the white billiard ball and were thrusting the pool stick in the air beside the ball. It was a comical sight, so he laughed quite heartily.
"What are they betting on, papa?" Fiorello asked, eyes still watching the comical scene.
"Their week's catch, who knows." His father shrugged, hands busy wiping the pints. "One of them will surely regret it tomorrow. Their wives will throw them out when they'll hear this."
Fiorello chuckled, he just shake his head and didn't try to stop the sailors from their drunken inhibitions.
"I'm looking forward to you fixing sister's bike, Papa." Fiorello reminded his father, who gave him an affronted smile. "Papa, don't give me that look! Think of it as your payment for me covering up the shift."
His father playfully gave him an unamused gaze, but the corner of his lips was smiling upwards.
Fiorello then waved at his father teasingly and went over to the kitchen where his mother was washing the plates, cutleries, and pints. Both of them shared a smile then they danced around the kitchen his mother washed used ceramics and cutleries while he was drying them and placing them back on the racks and cabinets. The inn's cook, Mrs.Sim, was staying later than usual she was mostly out by five o'clock in the evening as another cook will switch with her shift, but today the cook excused himself as he was taking care of his sick wife. Mrs.Sim took the opportunity to have an overtime shift today. Their rhythm continued for the next thirty minutes or so until Fiorello's father went inside the kitchen.
"Fiorello." Fiorello's father beckoned him over. "Come here for a minute, I'm sorry to disturb you, bud."
Fiorello dried his hands and went over to his father. "Yes, Papa? Another set of sailors again? Which tables to set up? I'll go over there immediately."
"No, no, no." His father shook his head vehemently. "Not that, can I ask you to fetch Salvios? His father is already drunk out of wits, he's flopping there on the table already."
Fiorello gulped, he looked over to where Mr.Sim was, but he can't see him since the sailors were dancing. He inhaled silently, still fresh from his mind as Salvios looked at him in the morning.
I hope you choke on your pasta, Renjun. Fiorello cursed his friend in his mind, manifesting for it to happen.
"Yes," Fiorello replied dumbly and nodded like a bobblehead. "I'll see into it, Papa. Let me take off the apron first."
"My husband has been what?" Mrs.Sim's tinkle-like voice resounded behind the father and son pair. "He's been doing what, Gavino?"
"He's drunk, Cassiopeia." His father said, with a breathy voice. "Been dancing non-stop while drinking ale and gin at the same time. It knocked him out of his wits, poor, Cygnus."
"Good Riddance!" Mrs.Sim's voice raised a note. "I'll finally pluck . . . come ti pare!"
Fiorello's mother wrapped her arms around Mrs.Sim's shoulders. "Don't worry, Cassiopeia. Fiorello and Gavino will handle it, okay?"
Fiorello nodded with fervor—albeit, with reluctance, Mr.Sim must weigh a little heavier as he's buff.
Mrs.Sim smiled a little, "Oh no! I don't want to intrude. My shift's almost over anyway. I'll carry him."
"Ah, ah, ah!" Fiorello's father tutted. "We'll handle it okay? It's really fine Cassiopeia."
"But—"
"Fiorello, dear. Will you fetch Salvios, then? I bet he can use their carrier bike to escort Cygnus to their home, is it fine, dear?" His mother ordered, without any room for negotiations.
Fiorello immediately took off his apron and hung it on the rack and tucked the towel in his pocket. "On it, Mama."
He immediately went out of the kitchen and fought his way through the sea of sailors dancing right in front of the bar counter. As Fiorello went outside from the warmth of the inn, he took a deep breath outside and started to pace back and forth in front of the entrance. Fiorello knows he's in an awkward spot now in between calling Salvios in their house ( which is 100% awkward as they've never crossed the threshold of just saying polite greetings to one another) or staying in front of the inn and waiting until his mother will scalp him for not calling Salvios.
He chooses the former option, of course.
Fiorello stood there in the inn, dazed and in deep contemplation. How do I casually approach Salvios? Should I go, "Hey! Your father is slumped in our inn and we need you to escort him back here. Thank you bye!" or should he just go write down a note and pass it to Salvios and take off? Fiorello groaned dragging his palm on his face down to his chin. He can't seem to think of a way to approach Salvios without making it awkward, as it already is. Moreover, the incident that happened a while ago in the dock is still making his stomach churn and drop at the same time.
"Hi! Sorry about my friend, he was in heat and need some help. But hey! I'm here to ask for you to escort your drunk father back to your humble home!" Fiorello faces the inn's walk talking to it.
"No!" Fiorello screamed in frustration ruffling his hair and stomping his left foot down on the ground. "That's way too obvious! Merlin! How do I approach a guy that I haven't even talked to for five seconds?!"
Fiorello keeps on mulling it over for five minutes straight. At last, he gave up and just chose to embrace whatever he can say to Salvios and just move on with his life, he can't possibly be embarrassed over his friend's (horny) antics? Yes, as he should, he needs to finish his summer bucket list. He was about to walk up to 33rd street and go uphill when he heard a soft ding, ding, behind him, so he turned back to check where the sound originated from.
There he was, the boy he was (not) looking forward to talking to. He was riding a bicycle with a cage or some sort attached on the side, making it a three-wheel vehicle. Fiorello doesn't know the term of the bicycle Salvios is using and will never be curious about learning it.
"Hey!" Salvios called. "What are you doing there in the dark? Are you good? Still sober?" Salvios stopped three meters away from where Fiorello was standing.
He must not know it's me, I mean, everybody knows how my parents are! They don't want me to drink and I'm still a minor! Fiorello thought, he looked over in Salvios' direction, and noticed that Salvios was still wearing the same outfit a while ago although the heavy leather coat had been stripped off. Salvios was wearing a fitted long-sleeve white shirt, with a blazer on, and wearing his dixie cup on, he looked somewhat funny.
"Oh! I'm fine. Not drunk never tried drinking alcohol." Fiorello supplied, he moved out from the corner he was standing on and walked forward to where the inn's light was reflecting at.
Salvios' face morphed into recognition and he gave Fiorello an awkward grin and he cleared his throat. "Fiorello, good evening. I thought you were one of the sailors from the inn. Sorry!"
Fiorello should be offended as he was deemed to look like a drunken sailor, but well, he doesn't want to waste any more time, so he ignored the comment. "Really? It's fine, though. Just took a breather." He lied through his teeth.
"Ah. . ." Salvios nodded slowly, looking up to the sky. "Shouldn't you be inside? It's already late."
Damn. Does he intend to continue this conversation and why is he talking to me anyway? This is new, he never talks to me for more than five seconds! Fiorello thought, sneering in his mind, he's already about to shake in embarrassment here.
"Why are you talking to me anyway?" Fiorello spoke, he paused he didn't mean to speak it out loud. "For Goddess' sake! Intrusive thoughts be gone!" He cursed under his breath, his cheeks heating up as if minced chilis were growing in his cheeks, his throat felt like something was lodged on it, and his fingers trembled
"Oh." Salvios laughed, quite softly. "Sorry, just worried. Did I make you uncomfortable?" Salvios fixed his blazer.
"No!" Fiorello screamed. "I mean, no. I'm sorry I didn't really mean to speak it out loud."
"It's fine. I didn't take it to my heart." Salvios smiled at him.
"Good." Fiorello gave Salvios a thumbs up and he received a tinkle of a giggle from the guy. "Ah! Yes, we need help escorting your father, he's out and drunk, and your mother is still on her shift. Is it okay, Salvios?"
Fiorello did a little dance in his mind because he finally said what needed to be said without stuttering like a blithering fool.
Salvios' mouth formed into an oval shape and he nodded. "Of course, it's fine. Will you lead the way? It seems the inn is packed I need assistance if you would."
"Say less. Come on, follow me." Fiorello beckoned Salvios.
The two of them walked through the sea of sailors and finally reached where Mr.Sim was slumped. Fiorello asked Salvios if he can help him in any way and Salvios responded to him if he can open the cage on the bicycle in advance. Fiorello nodded and walked back outside of the inn and opened the gate on the cage, it was really not a cage it was like a fence but metal without any roof whatsoever.
Fiorello waited in front of the cage, he saw Salvios helping his father walk, one arm wrapped around his father's shoulder and one arm under his father's arm. Fiorello made way for the two and Salvios thanked him and carefully placed his father in the cage.
Fiorello tapped Salvios' shoulder. "Hey."
Salvios hummed, he turned his head and looked at Fiorello.
"I'm sorry about earlier, I really didn't mean to, you know. I was just shocked because we really haven't interacted in our entire lives. And also sorry for what my friend commented on your best pal, it was really rude for him and I promised it will never happen again. I'll strangle him if it comes to the worst." Fiorello rambled.
Salvios laughed quite loudly, he ran his fingers through his nape and rubbed it."What? What's funny? Do you find my apology funny? You nutjo—" Fiorello was about to curse, but Salvios interjected
"No, no, no, sorry. I wasn't laughing at your apology." Salvios declared, a wide grin still on his lips.
Fiorello rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Then what?"
"I was just laughing because you were rambling and you didn't really need to apologize, you know?" Salvio paused, leaned on his bicycle, and stared right into Fiorello's eyes. "Jeno already knows Renjun thirst over him for three years already, I didn't mean to look at you like that earlier, it was really nothing."
"Oh. Oh. Oh. I'm going barmy!" Fiorello groaned and Salvios burst into a fit of giggle once again. "But I insist! I really need to apologize for being snarky at you earlier!"
"You're already forgiven, though? Really, it's nothing Fiorello."
"I insist."
"It's really, okay."
"I. INSIST," Fiorello said firmly, his hands on his hips, staring down at Salvios.
Salvios was taken back, then he gave Fiorello a wolfish smile and fixed his shirt collar. He stretched back. "Well then, see you tomorrow then? As sort of payment for being "snarky" at me. At the docks 3:00 PM sharp. No, take backs! Goodbye then!"
Salvios immediately rode on his bike and pedaled faster. Fiorello didn't get to agree as he was still shocked at Salvios' condition. He stood there like a lone fool, staring at the air with a confused expression on his face.
I'm screwed. Fiorello murmured he stomped his feet like a child and ruffled his hair.
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TBC
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