#Occhi grigi di Fulminacci feat Giovanni Truppi
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somethingsomethingwords · 11 months ago
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Ok so, here is another one. This is a little bit different from what I usually write or even like reading, but alas, sometimes an idea just enters your brain and just doesn't leave. Also this one has a title ig. So here it is. I hope you'll like it. Enjoy 💜
Of course I wanted you to stay
(but you didn't, no you didn't, no you didn't)
Lance was so full of adrenaline he almost dropped the mic. He was shaking from head to toe, but there was a huge grin on his face.
There was no sadness, because even if this was the last concert of the tour, it had been one of his best ones like, ever.
Also he was home, so he knew that after all the crazy partying he would do tonight, tomorrow he'd meet his sister, he'd go to that bakery that sells the best cupcakes, and he'd be able to roam the streets with his thick glasses and ugly beanie and scarf combos, and no one would recognise him.
But still, that's tomorrow. In that moment, there was the encore.
It was always different, so it was always special, but that day even more so. It was composed of three of his older songs, about pain and heartache and moving on despite the past, maybe in spite of it. He loved it very much. Because he was home, singing his first hits and he was ending one of the happiest and saddest tours of his life.
It had started great, new album, in love and energetic. Then he was left behind, alone and with nothing to show for it. Because it had to stay a secret. He had to keep his love secret. He had had no one to complain to, because the only people who knew would have been put in an uncomfortable situation, and he didn't want that. So he hid his hurt and did what he always did. He put it in his music. He sang his pain until the only hurt he could feel was the one in his throat.
It really had been a rollercoaster. But now it was the end, everything was better, and he wanted to send a last fuck you. He may have matured, but nothing would make him lose his pettiness.
So he sang.
Are you sorry like you weren't at the time?
Loving you was easy,
that's why it hurts now
The worst way to love somebody
is to watch them love somebody else
and it works out now
And sang.
Cause someone loved me,
someone fucking loved me
Someone fucking loved me,
I loved him too
Goddamn it, I was worth something,
I fuckin' earned something
I have a right to die, a right to live,
a right to choose, too. And God, no!
Of course I don't wanna feel better!
Can you fucking imagine?!
And sang.
Because, in the end,
you can see how much I loved you
from the fact that I'm fine now
It's a lie, but I say it anyhow
He put every single emotion into these songs, and finally let them go.
When the crowd roared, it all exploded.
He felt a solitary tear wet his face, but nothing could have stolen his smile. He waited for his band, then bowed and left the stage.
The night was young and he was feeling free and wild. And quite hungry, actually.
So he took his band to his favourite pub. They ate, and drank, and ate some more.
On the taxi towards his house, Lance realised that, no matter how much it had hurt, he didn't regret having what he had with Fernando.
Even the tears, even the heartbreak, they all shaped the person he was today.
He liked to think he was loyal, and dependable and kind. But most importantly, he liked to think he was better than the person he was yesterday.
His house appeared, and after paying and tipping the taxi driver, he opened the door.
Yeah, it was big and a little bit empty and a little bit cold. A little bit like his heart. But it was something to be proud of, because it was his, and he was working on it.
---
The next day he really started to rethink all of this rock star thing.
His head pounded with his heartbeat and his mouth tasted rancid.
He got up and drank some water, downing a couple of aspirins for his headache.
After the shower he felt somewhat normal, and decided to go out for breakfast.
He reached his favourite bakery and ordered two pastries to go. He wanted to retreat and lay warmly in front of the fireplace.
Lance noticed him as soon as he stepped out, but he decided to ignore him. His house wasn't that far, he could reach it quickly and without having to talk to him. For once, he wanted to thank whoever made him with long legs.
But even if he could go fast without running, so could the other.
They walked in silence, side by side, for a few minutes.
When the silence and the presence were getting to him, he abruptly stopped and turned towards the other man.
"What do you want?"
Fernando didn't deserve kindness nor gentleness. He forfeited those when he left Lance. Via text. Without explanation and blocking him immediately after.
Lance had spent too many days crying; now he wanted nothing to do with the man.
"Hello Lance. Was just around" he said, as if it explained why he was in Canada and not in England, in Monaco, hell even at home in Spain.
Lance huffed and started moving again, having had more than enough, but stopped when he felt a firm grip on his wrist.
He stared at the hand on his arm with wide eyes, before raising them to Nando's face.
"You have three seconds to either take your hand off or have it broken" he said shakily.
There must have been something in his voice that made the threat a real one, because suddenly he was free again.
"Lance, am sor..." Nando started.
"Shut up before I make you. We can't discuss here, someone could recognise you. Come to my house" surely not his finest moment, but all Lance could feel was fury. Still, he wasn't raising his voice, so he could consider it a win.
you are still protecting him, Este's voice said in his mind.
shut up, of course I am, but what else could he do?
They arrived at his house. He quickly opened the door and closed it when Fernando got in.
"You have no right to come here with your flimsy excuse and expect me to be ok with it. Now, tell me what you want and get the hell out of my house" there, simple and direct.
For a moment, Fernando seemed seriously sorry. But Lance didn't care. He was the one left behind, the one who had to pick up his pieces when he fell apart. He healed as best as he could, and he would not apologise for building up his defences.
"Lance, I am really sorry, for what's worth. I want to explain"
"You are a few months too late. At this point, I don't even know if I care. I only ever asked one thing, Alonso. One. I was ok with being kept a secret, and avoiding being seen together, and the distance. I only asked you to openly communicate and shit like that. You just left without a word" now that he had started, he couldn't seem to stop.
"You knew, I told you why I wanted that. Why I needed you to be honest and open, yet you just disappeared. I had to ask Este, who had to ask Mick. And for what. To be told that you had a new model girlfriend? So no, Alonso, I don't care anymore. It would just reopen old wounds. Now go, I'm sure you have somewhere else to be"
and someone else to be with, it wasn't said but both could hear it.
"That's not right. I have nowhere to go. Am alone, Lance" he said, something hurt and teary in his voice.
Lance was about to replicate, sharp words already on the tip of his tongue, when something in Nando's expression made him stop. His eyes showed how open he was being, how vulnerable.
Lance sighed, and led the man into the living room, making him sit on the couch, while he went into the kitchen and brought back two glasses of water. He would have preferred something stronger, but this felt too important of a moment to have it tainted by alcohol and not being in the right mind.
He sat on the opposite side of the couch, and waited for the other to start talking.
"First of all, am sorry, really. I knew it would hurt you, how I left you, but I did it anyway. And I know you have no reason to believe me or care. Am here because I believe you deserve the truth about everything"
He seemed honest, but Lance wouldn't trust him so easily, not again.
"What are you hoping for with your confession months later, mh? I'm not going to obediently come back to you, waiting to be heartbroken again. You're not gonna fuck me and leave, either. So, what do you want?" he was probably being unfair to the other man, but anger and confusion had never been a good mix of emotions for him.
"Lance, I would never..."
"Like you would never leave, Alonso? Don't make promises you can't keep and don't say things you don't mean" he interrupted, harsh and stubborn.
"You are right. I made promises and then I broke them and betrayed your trust. But I need you to know I had reasons. Not perfect, not good, but I had them" and goddamnit, Lance could feel himself beginning to soften.
just listen to him, said his conscience, suspiciously sounding like Mick.
"Would you care to explain them?" Was he being sarcastic or curious? He himself didn't know.
"Of course. Someone was starting to notice some...changes in me. I was happier, nicer, smiled more. Someone I don't like said something in a way I didn't like. Made me understand that he knew something was up, and would ruin me. So I decided that I needed to protect myself, to protect you. Left you because I couldn't see you. I knew I'm not strong enough to leave you if I saw you"
It all sounded logical, from a certain point of view, but Lance knew there was more, so he waited for the other to continue.
After a few seconds, Fernando raised his eyes, looking at Lance, before turning them down again.
"I didn't like the weakness. All the time, I was thinking about you, wanted you near. It was too much. So I thought I could just stay away, and forget about it"
about you, was left unsaid.
"And can you? Forget about it?" Lance not only wanted to know. He needed to, before going on with the conversation. He could feel his hands beginning to shake and his eyes starting to water, but he had to be sure.
Fernando immediately raised his eyes, and spoke with a tone determined and something like hope in his eyes.
"Of course I can't. I'm here right now, begging for a second chance" he said pleadingly.
"Then beg" Lance said, not meanly, but he also wasn't feeling particularly charitable, and it was better to make some things clear from the beginning: he wasn't going to repeat the same mistakes. He wasn't the young man staring at his teen crush, starry eyed and in love and grateful for every scrap of attention and affection. He was older, maybe a little bit more bitter, a little bit wiser. Fernando left some marks onto his heart, and he wasn't going to refresh them for nothing less than certainty.
"Lance, please give me another chance. I know I fucked up, was so wrong. I'm begging you, let me fix this. However long it takes, is ok. Just, tell me you'll think about forgiving me, and starting again" he was being so earnest, how could Lance resist?
"Even if I forgive you, and it's a big if, I'm not going to forget anytime soon, ok? I'll need time and space and for you to make an effort" he really was weak for this man, but who could blame him, he spent half his childhood idolizing him and then he met him and fell in love.
"Will do whatever it takes. But let me, please"
Realising all the air stuck in his lungs, Lance sighed.
"Ok"
He didn't even finish the word that Fernando picked him up and spun Lance around, making him laugh despite himself.
Fernando finally put him down, and took his hand to kiss it, maintaining the eye contact for a few seconds.
Lance could feel himself blushing, and quickly shook his head, still smiling.
After a few seconds of just getting reacquainted with one another, Fernando broke the silence.
"I liked the show yesterday. Especially the encore"
And now Lance was definitely blushing. His encore had been designed as a way of finally letting go, one last screw you to the man now in front of him. But he couldn't say that to him, even if it was pretty clear.
It would have been childish to throw shades at Fernando in one of his concerts, no?
"Yeah, I was inspired, I guess" his smile smaller but still there.
"Fuck the guy who made you suffer, the bastard" and in his jokingly way, Nando was telling him that he wasn't angry, and that they would be ok.
"Yeah, fuck him"
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soledad-montoya · 8 months ago
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Perché alla fine quanto ti ho voluto bene
Lo vedi proprio da quanto sto bene adesso
Lo so, è l'inverso di quello che diresti
Cioè, io più sto bene ora più vuol dire che
Sono stato bene con te
Perché alla fine quanto ti ho voluto bene
Lo vedi proprio da quanto sto bene adesso
Se non ci credi lo dico lo stesso
Io più sto bene ora più vuol dire che
Sono stato bene con te
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