APH: RocketsThe chilly wind pinches Felicia's nose, and she rubs it to stay warm. Of course, this place was as hot as hell during the day, but an October night was colder than she anticipated. She kicks a leaf to the side and struggles to catch up with her friend, Alfred.
"Are we there yet?"
Alfred checks his watch, his blue eyes showing concern for a quick moment. Then he brightens, beaming at Felicia.
"Almost! We gotta be there in like, five minutes."
She nods numbly. Five minutes? She couldn't take five minutes in this wind, but Alfred seemed really excited and confident. He didn't tell her what they were going to see, but he kept checking his watch and glancing up at the sky. Alfred stops for a moment, and turns back to her.
"Y'know this thing can be scrubbed in a second, right?"
Felicia frowns. That didn't make any sense. Scrub? What was it, a cleaning demonstration?
"What do you mean?"
Alfred's eyes show disbelief for a moment, but then he nods in understanding. He keeps walking, though, and
Guardare le stelleIt should be here in a sec any second now
The glowing marbles of light illuminate the night sky, twinkling like millions of lanterns. The Milky Way, an indescribably beautiful pattern of thousands of sparkling colors, seems to streak across the sky like a paintbrush. Maybe it could be Feli's paintbrush. Alfred smiles to himself, remembering all of the pieces his Italian friend had painted, from a simple sketch of his cat to the realistic skyline of Florence or Rome. He checks his watch, glancing at the evening sky. Five minutes. It was already getting late, but Alfred didn't mind because it was a Friday, which meant party all night with no classes tomorrow. It was a very simple routine, almost a tradition. Every Friday, Alfred and Feli would hit the road and grab some gelato if the homework load was light and there was time to kill. Feli was going to an art class today, so Alfred spent the afternoon eating and playing video games. But it was the late night he a
APH PastaBurger OneshotFeliciano Vargas got constantly picked on through kindergarten onward. To the other kids, there was no better prey. He was small, skinny, and poor. His clothes were always ill-fitting, and then there was the funny-looking curl that stuck out the side of his head. Some of the others thought he was dumb, but he was smart enough to make C's and B's and the occasional A. He was a crybaby, too, and was afraid of the older ones who bullied him. It was like a routine every day. His lunch was stolen, he was constantly tripped, and sometimes, he was even so tormented that he was left outside on the playground, helplessly dangling from the monkey bars by his legs and a securely fastened jump rope.
Until Alfred came.
Whenever a new student came, it was like a lovely surprise. If they were weak, they would be bullied. If they were strong, they were immediately accepted into the gang. So when the new student hailing from America arrived, everyone watched him carefully.
He was tall and lanky, but we