COUNTERCULTURE

A SYMPHONIC METAL OPERA

CHAPTER NINE

INTERLUDE

Several years earlier…

It was a grey, gloomy day as Romano walked along the grey, gloomy street. His shoes thumped their staccato rhythm against the cold concrete, shoulders sagging and hunched, dark clothes blending in with the muted tones and subdued colour scheme of the surroundings. It was the fifth time he had walked down this street this week, but so far, nothing had changed; the pedestrians still hurried along with cold, unfriendly eyes and the ever-present, ever-swinging briefcases, eerie in their uniform grey suits. Looming grey buildings stretched and blurred with a grey, overcast sky; nature and humanity blended together.

Romano stepped aside to avoid a straggling line of dead-eyed, pale-faced teenagers, and continued walking, lips settling into their customary frown as the crowds ebbed around him. He quietly thanked the fact his apartment was only a short distance away from the mailroom where he worked, so this gloomy, early morning walk did not take long.

It was a good business opportunity, they had said. A promotion to a big business in Germany. All Romano had to do was pack up the dregs of his dreary, tasteless life and move halfway across Europe, abandoning his home in South Italy. Romano had never been very good at confrontation – his struggling career had left him subsequentially penniless – so he forced a smile, said thank you, and set off armed with only a map and a German phrasebook to help assimilate himself into the latest conglomerate. He said nothing untoward, he did nothing out of the ordinary – he simply woke up, got ready, went to work, kept his head down, and came home again. Over and over again.

Romano's grumbling stomach forced his eyes to scan the buildings around him for some sort of café, no matter how his mind protested. Amidst the colourless, featureless grey buildings slumping against each other like soldiers after a war came a burst of colour and life – a cheerful looking ice cream parlour. Variously shaped and coloured ice-creams sat proudly on tables and tiers like an elaborate art exhibition; vanilla ones delicately whipped into the most fragile of spiral shapes, little ones with what looked like caramel chunks, elegantly whipped meringues, chocolate of every colour and variety.

His stomach clawed at him so viciously his composure was shattered by a grimace, and it was only a Herculean sense of pride that stopped him from streaking into the shop with his mouth wide open. Technically, ice cream didn't make a balanced breakfast, but Romano had never been one for technicalities.

The cheerful tinkling of the bell announced his arrival to the entire shop with unnecessary loudness as Romano stepped inside. The interior of the shop enveloped him in a wash of warmth and light. Music was playing softly; some sort of pop song, bouncing happily through the room in a billowing dress of raw notes and swooping crescendos.

"Hallo!" Romano started at the unfamiliar voice. A man was standing behind the long glass-paned counter stretching along the back of the room, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, and for a second, all Romano could do was openly gape.

"Hallo!" the man said again, with a beaming smile and a wave. He had short blonde hair with a slight curl, and was dressed in a pair of faded denim jeans and a pale salmon cardigan. Twin diamonds glittered in his ears. There was something about his palpable excitement, the way he beamed so effulgently, the way his handsome blue eyes eagerly drank in Romano's face, that made him feel slightly embarrassed without knowing why.

"Wilkommen! Was willst du? Willst du einen trinken? Essen? Was würden Sie gerne essen?"

Romano didn't know how to respond. True, he'd been taking languages courses, but this rapid-fire German was beginning to make him feel slightly dizzy.

"Umm, voglio… sorry, I mean, ich möchst ein..."

The blonde man grinned, merriment dancing in his bright eyes. "Your accent is very good, liebchen, but perhaps we should do this in Italian?" the man smiled even wider at Romano's surprised expression, leaning casually against the counter. "Si? Ja? Don't worry, I learned Italian from my ex-boyfriend."

Ah. So that was it. Romano tried to arrange his expression into one of polite indifference, yet something in the way the man's lips quirked upwards in amusement told him he'd seen right through it.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Romano looked down at himself, his shoes scuffing the polished wood floorboards, and felt his face burn unpleasantly with embarrassment. "I was meaning to get something, but… I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. I'll leave."

"No, no, no!" quicker than Romano's eyes could properly follow, the man had darted out from behind the counter and latched onto his arm. "No," the man repeated, softer now, and so sincere it made Romano stop. "Please, stay for a minute. You are my guest, si?"

Romano paused. "Thank you."

"Pfft!" the man waved the comment aside. "Think nothing of it. You were on your way to work? Don't tell me…" the man took several steps backwards. A grin quirked his mouth upwards. "You're… some sort of musician?"

He spoke Italian flawlessly, with the faint hint of a Slavic-sounding accent. Romano found himself relaxing at the sound of the familiar words. "A mailroom clerk, actually. But it is part of a bank."

The man wrinkled his nose in mock horror. "Dio, it's the attack of the stereotypes!" Romano felt himself smile. "But where are my manners, my name is Feliks!" he embellished his name with a dramatic flourish, spinning in a short circle before coming back to grin at Romano again. "What's yours?"

"My name is Romano. Romano Vargas." Romano quickly found himself once again becoming distracted by those bright eyes. Just what was going on? Feliks' manner seemed a bit too… eager. Didn't he already have a boyfriend? But maybe Feliks introduced himself to all his customers like this. "The parlour looks very good. Do you make all of these yourself?" at the mention of the ice cream, Romano felt his stomach growl quietly in response.

Feliks nodded eagerly, his expression delighted and proud. "Each and every one, mio bello."

"They look amazing," Romano murmured, eyes falling on an exquisitely crafted chocolate ice cream, complete with veins of white chocolate threading delicately through. "I can't believe I've never seen this place before, I walk past it nearly every day…" Then he realized Feliks had called him beautiful, and fell silent, feeling awkward.

Feliks didn't seem to care. "So, whereabouts have you dropped in from?" he tipped a wink over his shoulder as he walked behind the counter, turning with an elegant pivot of one heel – the word 'dancer' came to Romano's mind – and leaning languidly against the counter.

Romano felt as though his brain had jammed. Was this flirting? No, that couldn't be. He wasn't the kind of person people flirted with, much less complete strangers. He considered leaving, but something – maybe it was the way Feliks looked at him – made him linger. "I live a few minutes away…" What was he doing?

"Ah, yes?" Feliks smiled a smile that made Romano feel strangely warm. "So do I, although it is nothing compared to Warsaw."

Romano paused. "So, you're from Poland?" He asked, finally pinpointing the unusual accent.

"Yes." Feliks paused, and the sound of his voice stopped Romano in his tracks. Then he broke the moment by glancing down at his watch. His beautiful eyes grew wide. "Oh! Look at the time! What was it you wanted?"

At the mention of the time, Romano yelped, head whipping to his own watch. "I'm late!"

Feliks glanced out of the window. "And what timing, too – it's started to rain." He smiled at him with such a hopeful expression it made Romano's heart feel odd. Aching, almost. "Will I see you again tomorrow?"

Romano bit his lip. "Umm… I'll try."

"Wait!" Feliks ducked behind the counter and reappeared moments later with a blue umbrella. "There!" he beamed, handing it over to him. "Now you'll have to come back." He looked faintly malicious.

Romano smiled across the elegant shop. "See you."

"Arrividerci!"

Romano stepped outside the café, marvelling how, in just a short period of time, the dull grey world seemed brighter. The houses didn't seem to lean against each other quite so much; the scenery was just a tiny bit livelier. And Romano realised he was finally looking forward to something for the first time in weeks.

oOoOoOoOoOo

All in all, Romano supposed the Jade Dragon was a rather nice restaurant. Tucked away in one of the city's unobtrusive back alleys, the restaurant remained decadent and understated, boasting a smattering of red lanterns at its eaves and two proud stone dragons snarling at the door. The interior was cheerfully lit with bright light-bulbs, and circular tables were scattered around the creamy tiled floor. When it came to the décor itself, Romano rather liked the Jade Dragon.

What he didn't like was the man at the counter.

Romano surreptitiously glanced upwards in the direction of the bar, and was rewarded by a flash of movement as the owner ducked his head down. Yao Wang hadn't stopped staring at them since they'd arrived, despite the fact the restaurant was crowded with at least a dozen other customers.

"What is it?" Feliks asked, noticing Romano's incessant glances at the bar.

Romano blinked and turned away. "Mr Wang hasn't stopped staring at us since we've arrived." He grumbled, taking a sip of his drink. Feliks had insisted on having him try the Jade Dragon's apparently famous green tea – so far, Romano couldn't see what all the fuss was about. It was tea, and it was green.

Feliks glanced at the bar, and pointedly waved. Yao Wang started, and ducked his head down, suddenly focused on washing glasses with an intensity Romano hadn't known existed.

"I wonder why," Feliks mused, turning his head back.

Romano looked at him, taking in the bright blue lipstick and spangled black dress, and felt a rush of bemused affection. "Don't worry about it." He touched his hand.

The door blew open with a cheerful tinkle of the bell and a rush of cold air. Romano looked up in surprise to see a tall brunette man dressed in a bright pastel green jumper sidle in. His eyes briefly scanned the seated customers, before settling on Romano and Feliks. His face split into a smile, and he hurried over.

"Tolys!" Feliks beamed, pulling out a chair for him. He let go of Romano's hand; Romano retracted it, and watched as the Lithuanian man seated himself.

"Hi," Romano ventured, after Feliks and Tolys had made their introductions.

Tolys smiled warmly at him, and Romano felt a bit of his nervousness lessen. "Hi." His grin broadened. "You're the one needing money, are you?"

Romano shrank down in his chair. He wished Tolys hadn't phrased it like that – it made him sound like some sort of destitute. Then his mind wandered back to his shabby flat and the pile of bills growing at the back of his mind, and mentally corrected himself. Yes, he was destitute. Practically.

"He's shy," Feliks grinned and reached over to ruffle Romano's hair.

Romano jerked away. "I am not!" But his heart had lightened, and he joined in with their laughter.

"So," Tolys said once their laughter had abated, settling back. His eyes focused on the black—clad Italian. "From what Feliks tells me, you need money to see a new band?"

Romano nodded. "Yeah…" The whole situation struck him as slightly weird – who in their right mind would give up money just for tickets to a band? Romano had heard of charity, but surely this was bordering on ridiculous. "Um…" he faltered as Tolys retrieved his wallet from his pocket. "Sorry, but, why are you doing this?"

"Oh…" Tolys paused, and shrugged. Feliks was watching him like a hawk; he looked at him with a smile. "I felt guilty, since you don't… well…" he shrugged again, an awkward shake of his shoulders.

"Don't have much," Feliks finished.

Tolys winced. "Yeah. Anyway, so, I thought I might as well get tickets, since you love the band so much. And I'm always looking for different bands to listen to, so I thought, well, I might as well."

Romano nodded. "That makes sense." He couldn't help smiling. "Thanks so much, for everything."

Tolys smiled back. "You're welcome."

Feliks smiled.

Notes:

… I feel I have given myself fluff-induced diabetes *chokes* Insulin! I need insulin! :P

This is probably one of the last chapters, readers. By my count, there'll be around either 4 to 6 chapters to go of Counterculture before it ends. Thank you for all those who've come along for the ride so far; I couldn't have made it this far without you.