Chapter Text
Chapter Three: Palermo
March 20th, 2027
Klavier has never been this happy to go to Italy. He loved the country and everything about its food, culture, history and art. He spent a semester in Milan while he was in college and fell in love.
While it was true that he came back a handful of times after that during his tours, it was always in passing, and he never had his fill of this wonderful country that he adored.
He was feeling much better now than he was the month before. While waiting for his plane to Palermo in the Monaco airport, he decided that he had finally made peace with the tiny country. He didn’t get the feeling that urged him to come back to it, at least not in the near future. He felt, however, that spending enough time in it allowed him to see its wonders without the layer of prejudice he had in the beginning of his stay.
That and the fact that he was proud of his first song on the project, even though it touched a very deep and personal subject. Maybe that was the reason that amplified his pride.
By the end of his month in Monaco, his anxiety turned into excitement and unease into happiness.
When the plane landed in the Palermo airport just a few hours later, Klavier was feeling surprisingly energized. While he did his fair share of exploring the country when he was younger, almost on every free weekend he had between exams and courses, he actually had never been to Sicily.
All he knew about the island is that it was definitely warmer than Milan, had the best desserts and pastries in the entire country, and that one of his closest friends from when he was abroad was born and raised there.
That was another reason why his excitement was through the roof. He hadn't met his friend in years and when he reached out a few months ago, informing her that he would be in Palermo soon, she was ecstatic.
He met Bella when they were both in university in Milan. When Klavier was on his exchange semester for his international law module, Bella was studying Fine Arts in the same campus.
As soon as he texted her his hotel address, she appeared in her iconic red Vespa (the reason why they became friends in the first place), with a matching red helmet with a similar one in white strapped to the handle.
They both couldn’t believe their eyes when they finally spotted one another. Tears were shed, he might have accidentally picked her off the ground when they hugged, but they wouldn’t have it any other way. She still looked the same as he left her, if only a lot healthier. She still wore her long brown hair in a loose braid, and her smile still radiated the same warmth Klavier was used to. Her clothes always had a paint stain on them; she always looked so colorful, anyway.
After hearing that Klavier was only fed hotel food for his first few nights in Palermo, she was outraged. Thus, fulfilling her duty as a good, responsible Italian, she insisted he come have dinner in the restaurant she owned with her girlfriend. It was a tiny little place not too far from his hotel, situated in a narrow street where the balconies on opposing buildings almost kissed, given the proximity. And if these lovers couldn’t get too close to each other, they were always connected by the red string of laundry; attaching almost every window to its fated soulmate on the opposite building.
The restaurant had a few tables inside, but it was obvious that the majority of people liked to sit on the ones put outside on the cobblestone street. Those who sat outside never got to see the beauty and detail of the hundreds of Bella’s illustrations that were decorating the walls inside. They ranged from watercolors to oil and acrylic paintings, depicting thousands of angles of the city of Palermo, and what seemed to be millions of sketches of Laurina, the restaurant’s chef and Bella’s beloved.
“Amuri! Sunnu arrivata!” Bella shouted, as soon as they stepped foot inside.
He could see Laurina’s face peeking through the serving hatch. She smiled and disappeared for a few seconds only to reappear from under the curtain that was separating the kitchen entrance from the main area. She looked over at Klavier and immediately came over to hug him. He sometimes forgets that people could be overly affectionate here.
He hugged her back, and shyly introduced himself with the best he could remember from the rusty drawer in his memory labeled “Italiano”: “Buonasera Laurina, mi chiamo Klavier e sono un amico di Bella. Piacere di conoscerti.”
She smiled widely and answered him in her loud, imposing voice: “é 'n piacìri ri finalmente incontrarti, Klavier. Bìedda mi avi assái parratu ri te.”
Ah. His mind went blank. It seemed like it was a language he never heard before. He cluelessly looked over at Bella, who was currently talking to kitchen staff from behind the curtain. He looked back at Laurina and muttered a confused “… Grazie?”
The chef smiled and gestured for him to sit down at the table closest to the kitchen. He guessed the chef understood his confusion and didn’t press any further. When Bella came back and joined him at the table, she muttered something about how it was going to be the best food he’s had in Italy so far.
“Bella, please don’t tell me your girlfriend just answered me in Italian and I simply lost my mind and forgot everything I ever learned.” He pleaded, sincerely hoping he was wrong.
Bella’s loud laugh echoed through the tiny restaurant. She regained her composure almost immediately: “Ah, rest assured, your brain and memory are still intact! You’re going to be just fine.” She smiled at him. “Laurina just spoke to you in Sicilian. While some might say that it’s just an accent or a dialect of Italian, we down here speak it as its own separate language. After all, it is our mother tongue.”
Klavier felt even more confused.
“If Sicilian is your mother tongue, then how come I have never heard you speak it before?” He asked.
Bella gave him a sad smile as she replied: “The Bella you met in Milan years ago was not very proud of her origins and would have done anything to fit in. Had she not met a stubborn, kind hearted, stupid German boy who never hid his accent, she might have forgotten the Sicilian language altogether.”
Klavier felt the tears threaten to come out for the second time today, only to be interrupted by Laurina coming out of the kitchen with their food.
And it looked amazing.
“If I start crying, can I blame it on how great the food is?”
“Yes you can, amicu mo.”
Later that same night, Klavier was telling Apollo all about the eggplant and ricotta pasta dish he had for dinner.
“-and it was so good! You wouldn’t imagine the explosion of flavors that was possible with such simple ingredients!”
Apollo chuckled amusedly at his friend’s excitement: “I never took you in as a foodie, Klavier. Is the palate finally evolving?”
He could hear a muffled “yes” through the speakers, as Klavier was doing his nightly routine of skin and hair care. They both got used to this, just chilling on the phone, updating each other of their daily shenanigans while each doing their own thing. It was nice, mundane.
“You know, I learned something new today. Well, it might have broken my ego but it’s still super interesting.” Klavier said.
“Oh, no, please tell me about your shattered ego, I’d love to hear about it.” Apollo replied, the usual sarcasm dripping from his voice.
And so, Apollo learned thanks to Klavier that Sicilian and Italian were two separate languages and that Klavier never managed to show off his Italian skills to anyone on his trip. Got it.
Hell, he struggled to even master one and a half, let alone two (or three if you count German?) Why on earth would Klavier want to learn a fourth one? He knew that his friend was too smart for his own good anyways.
“Well, why don’t you learn it? I mean yeah they’re different but you have the advantage of having a native speaker that’s willing to help you, plus all the baggage you already acquired from Italian. To me, it feels like a wasted chance.” He taunted, trying to spark a challenge in his friend.
“Are you challenging me, Herr Forehead?” Exactly the answer he was looking for.
“I bet you wouldn’t be able to remember any Sicilian word by the end of your stay.” He bluffed.
“I bet you I can write an entire song in Sicilian as my project!”
Apollo smirked. He wished Klavier could see his face right now, he was so proud of him.
“It’s a deal, then.”
And so, Klavier began learning Sicilian with the help of Bella and occasionally Laurina. He came to their restaurant almost daily, and they always welcomed him with open arms.
The other members in the alley of clowns took notice of the restaurant, having already met Bella a bunch of times whenever she came to their hotel. Soon enough, it was their new favorite spot, and Klavier couldn’t be happier.
One night, after closing, Bella invited him to relax in the restaurant and do some art over a bottle of Zibibbo wine. He brought his notebook and guitar and went without hesitation.
They had already spent the day in the bustling markets of Palermo together, on a mission to buy spices and vegetables for Laurina. After haggling with a dozen vendors in beginner level Sicilian and almost getting a heatstroke in the middle of March, Klavier spotted a little gelato shop in between the curtains of dried peppers and baskets of spice. He indulged himself in some otherworldly lemon gelato, as he described it to Apollo later on. Bella even managed to sneak a picture of him devouring it, planning on sending it to this Apollo she hears so often being mentioned yet knows so little about.
So she asks. They were in the middle of their little art session, the bottle of wine already halfway empty. Klavier was softly strumming on his guitar, mindlessly adjusting old melodies and creating new ones.
Bella was almost done with painting a little watercolor card of today’s market scenery.
She hesitantly looks at her friend. “So, who’s this Apollo I keep hearing about?”
Klavier smiles just at the mention of his name.
“He’s my best friend, back home. I miss him a lot and I always try to talk to him everyday. He’s amazing.” He looks at the ceiling, wistful. “He’s currently collecting postcards, and I’m helping by sending him something from my travels. I wonder what to send him from Palermo.”
Bella had spent enough time with Klavier during their teenage years to know what the look that was adorning his face at the moment meant exactly. It almost felt like he was dreaming, his eyes looked brighter than normal, and you could faintly see a rosy tint on his cheeks. She witnessed it countless times, she was certain.
Even the tone of his voice shifted to a much softer hue when he started talking about Apollo.
Bella knew that her friend had so much love to give, and that he deserved only the best. She looked at the painting she just made, now mostly dry, and handed it to him, without hesitation.
“Here.” She said, putting the card in front of him. “Send him this.”
Klavier’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you sure? Bella, at least let me pay for-”
“Oh, zìttiti.” She smiled at him.
He put his guitar down and went over to hug her very tight. He whispered “Grazzi milli Bìedda. Ti vogghiu beni.”
April 2nd, 2027
Apollo comes home a bit later than usual that night. Having spent the day between the courtroom, the crime scene and the forensics lab. He was feeling the exhaustion crawl up to him when he fumbled for his apartment keys.
The first sight that greeted him as he opened the door was an envelope laying on the floor. He didn’t even think twice before picking it up, already feeling a lot more energized than two seconds ago.
He sat on his desk as he carefully opened it, not wanting to ruin the gorgeous little stamp labeled “ITALIA” on the corner. His heart was melting as he saw the wonderful little watercolor postcard and the picture of a silly, cute and happy Klavier eating gelato attached to it.
He sighed, looking at the picture time and time again, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush. Soon enough, he put the picture and the postcard into an old ornate box he had, so they could join the other pieces in his collection.