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“Mitsa”
A wave from the crowd.
“Stell, meet my partner. I wanted to surprise you about her.”
“...”
“Stell..?”
“Ah, yes? Oh. Congratulations! I am so happy for both of you!!” Stell held her hands, gripping them a little too tightly. ”I can’t believe you actually found someone who could endure your perfectionism!?” Stell lightly slapped Pablo 's shoulder. Both chuckling, both used to each other’s insults.
“Why haven't you told me?” A crack in his voice, he hasn't heard that in a while. Not when Pablo 's listening.
Hearing it, Pablo asked him to rest and drink the tea he always recommended, the one Stell has always drunk ever since. The one that calms the pounding in his chest.
But right now, his stomach dares to gag.
Stell excused himself.
And like a tunnel, his vision becomes narrower and narrower, blurry, swaying.
Huff
Said the soft fabric.
Eleven years ago
“Raise your chin, chest out, louder your voice, don't forget to smile!” Mavid, Stell’s mother.
Her slim fingers gracefully slid towards her son’s chin, raised it enough to deem him confident. His eyes stared sharply at the mirror in front of him; he stared down at himself, watching the way his mouth opened and closed, the way his Adam's apple bobbed, and the way his expression changed with practiced emotion, polished to please the eye.
A thought knocked to the threshold of his mind. The same time a man in his mid 20s walked in.
He must be an important person Stell wondered, staring through the mirror towards the man.
Mom even greeted him first.
The man smiled, flustered even.
Then, the man landed his eyes towards the young adult in front of the mirror, big enough to reflect the whole room.
The mirror stared back.
Stell stared back.
There wasn't much to look at from the man, a decent suit, though the jacket is off. The waistcoat hugged his body just right, though the mossy green tie looked off for Stell.
A darker color would suit him.
He wasn't paying much attention to his mom, not even realizing he's been called by his last name two times.
Flustered, he turned around to face the two.
“It's a pleasure to finally meet you Mr. Vester. Pablo, from the Nase family.” The man greeted.
Ahh, it's that man, the one mom has been recommending me to be coached by, Stell only nodded–
“Where are your manners, child?” Mavid’s voice was sharp, the same way her heels scraped the floor.
(“...Vester. It's a pleasure meet you too, Mr. Nase”) “...Vester. It's a piacere to meet anche tu, Mr. Nase” Mavid only hummed.
“Done with the greetings..should the both of you get along.” She clapped her hands. And whispered to Pablo.
“He likes to mix English and Italian between his sentences.” She slowly backed off and gestured to one of the maids to aid her.
Clack, clack, clack.
The sound of heels hitting the porcelain floor echoed throughout the room.
“Moms are always so scary.” Pablo started. He didn't even realize that the young adult was gone from beside him.
Already walking towards the door outside.
“I-..hoy, you cant just leave me here.” His tone was steady, not to warn, just a reminder.
(“This is my home.”)“Questo is my casa.” Stell tried to speak with authority, but was met with a flick on the forehead.
“I'm your coach na, ha. I should be the one speaking with authority.” Stell had his mouth agape, brows crunching down. Hands raised to cover his forehead.
“Your annoyance is plastered on your face, “ Pablo chuckled.
Stell continued walking in the garden, while Pablo followed along, deciding to look at his notes from the meeting he had with Mavid.
A possibility to reach highnotes, huh. And from just a young one? Pablo shook his head left and right, skeptical of the young he is following.
With a mischievous smile, he tackled the young adult. “
UAAAAAAAHHH–!?!?!!” He screamed at a high pitched tone. The young adult clutched his chest, shallow fast breath, chasing away the sudden adrenaline.
(“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?”) “CHE DIAVOLO ERA QUELLO!?” He yelled at the man at front, chuckling and nodding to himself, as if to confirm a theory of his.
“Right, right, pietoso, pietoso..” Pablo apologized, coughing in on his fist. But a snort came out seeing the embarrassed young adult in front of him.
“Okay. Let's start the class tomorrow by.. late morning?” Pablo spoke, looking at the watch he had on his wrist. Stell still stared at him, anger boiling within.
Pablo noticed the heat.
“Sounds good, goodbye then! Let me excuse myself.”
Bowing, Pablo finally left, not wanting to deal with the boiling teapot.
While the warm welcoming of these two humans shared.
A huff came out from the dried lips of a mid teen, shivering because of the cold seeping through the cracks of his home. Writing down answers for his homework.
Pitch black hair, mirroring the color of his grandfather's hair, sitting across the table sipping cheap, but hot, coffee. A thick dark jumpsuit covered his body, and the old, veiny hands held the cup gently.
The old man huffed.
“Alright, mag trabaho na ‘ko. Hoy, pumasok ka, ha. Baka kung anong sideline nanaman ang gawin mo.” His grandfather warned before leaving the house, though his voice wasn't sharp, he walked out the door, boots crunching the thin layer of snow, and his body covered in thick layers of jackets.
The teen peaked past the paper. He shoved his long finished homework in his leathered bag, running to his sleeping grandmother, a peck on the forehead.
“Pasok na po ako.” He mumbled. Then rushing to his boots, and leaving.
On his way to his school, he accidentally bumps onto a kid, maybe 2 years younger than him.
“Ah–sorry!” He pressed both his palms together to apologize, then ran in a hurry. The child looked back at the teen running.
(“Mr. De Dios, don't mind such a filthy child, let me clean your shoulder.”) “Signor De Dios, non si preoccupi di un bambino così sporco, lasci che le pulisca le spalle.” The butler spoke.
“No, it's okay.” The child waved, denying the service.
They continued walking to their luxury vehicle, black and slick.
Now sat on a warm chair, a quiet music from the radio played. He thought about the teen.
Why was he in such dirty clothes, does he not know of laundry?
But the thought flew away, the warmth in the car and the soft music, lulled him to sleep.
The night would have been calming if it weren't for the eerie buzzing of radios and mumbles from across the room.
Laying on top of the bunk bed, a kid in his mid teen, laid still. The snoring of other teens around the room kept him awake and tired.
Putek, ayoko na dito.
A confession to himself, a future building for himself.
He wished for luck to hide him from the torches.
A TEASER OF
“Voice Incompiuta”