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14 January 2011 @ 06:35 pm
[rpf] Madrid (eng)  
Title: Madrid
Author: lamechante
Betareader: (sanzina89 in Italian, curvasud in English)
Characters: Jon Alonso/Luca Leite
Pairing: Jon/Luca
Word-counting: 863
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: not true.
Italian version: here
Notes: dedicated to my awesome beta-reader curvasud , the one who suggested me to translate it in English and helped me a lot, more than you ever imagine. THANK YOU VY ♥

“Every time I go back to Brazil I miss the taste of Madrid,” sighs Luca, stretched on a bench in El Retiro and kissed by the first spring sun.

A bitter wind blows, but people have started to enliven the park, to camp on the grass, to relax on the walls next to the royal palace or simply to walk along the tree-lined streets that connect the various monuments. Luca thinks that this place is magical at any time of the day and sometimes, in the morning, disregarding his reputation of model student, he takes refuge in the quiet shade of El Bosque de los Ausentes, a series of well-trimmed flower-beds, small conifers and a stream that frames it regularly.

“Every time you come here, spare a thought for those people,” his father said the first time they were there together. Ricardo explained him to what extent men’s cruelty could get and when Ricardo’s eyes became shiny, Luca changed the conversation’s topic. He suggested that it was time to go back home, considering the threatening weather.

Every time Luca came back to the park since then, all alone, just the thought of approaching this memorial hurt, and it hurt him even more to see people stopping there and gazing at the memorial for a long time in complete silence.

Luca kept this secret to himself for a long time: that he simply needed a place of sadness to remember the value of life — a thought of a rare maturity for a fifteen-year-old boy who seemed carefree, surrounded by every comfort and affection.

Then Jon came — “the son of my good friend Xabi” — and Luca understood immediately that Jon was the one with whom he wanted to share that secret, inaccessible to anyone else.

They needed time to become familiar with each other, but after awkward silences and reddened cheeks, Luca took heart and invited Jon to “spend some time together.” It was his way to avoid asking, “Do you want to go out with me?” — a phrase that seemed overly sweet and would have put Jon into a difficult position.

They were in that park — Luca had carefully planned that afternoon together and, after much thought, he had realized that there was no other place on earth better than El Retiro. They walked a long time, until Jon felt a sharp pain in his knee and had had to stop. Luca took the opportunity to joke, “Oh, another one with that problem: I'm surrounded by rodillas malas*!” But when he realized they were near the memorial, he became serious all of a sudden.

“There’s always a scent of cinnamon here,” Jon whispered, turning his eyes towards the hill. “Probably some people never die.”

“Are you afraid to die?” Luca pressed, opening his black and curious eyes wide, thinking about getting the reply that would have decided whether Jon was the friend he really wanted or not.

“No,” replied Jon dryly, and they had spent a few minutes peering each other into their eyes without saying a word.

It wasn't the “Nobody truly dies; we go to heaven” of his father, or the “we must not fear death; there is Jesus,” of his mother, or the “Luca, don’t stress us out” of his mates: it was the firm reply of his best friend — Luca had decided that at that time.

From then on, there were a series of "Mommy, I’m going out with friends” (and Jon was waiting for him just around the corner), of phone calls at night with his pillow pushed over his head, of smiles each time he received a text message from Jon while he was with his parents, and of warning his sister, “Try to tell them and I’ll cut your hair during the night.”

Now Luca is relaxing on the bench with his head resting on Jon’s knees.

“Why do you miss the taste of Madrid?” asks Jon, running his hands through his friend's hair.

“Why do you think?”

“I don’t know, maybe because it is your mother tongue.”

Luca’s face twisted into an expression of annoyance, and he murmurs, "Try again — and be less intellectual.”

“The sea,” Jon guesses, and Luca is reminded of the place where his parents had met the first time and had forced him and his sister to spend all of their childhood summers.

I wonder what Jon would say, seeing that enchanted place. One day I will take him there with me, imagines Luca, satisfied.

“Try again,” he says enigmatically.

Jon rolls his eyes impatiently. “I don't know, maybe — ”

“You fool,” Luca interrupts him. “I miss you and your intellectual air, your lies so well-designed, your rucksack full of books that you carry and promptly forget. Your chapped lips and the uneven hair that are growing on your chin. I miss the time we spend together, our silences…”

“You don’t miss Madrid, then,” mumbles Jon.

“You are my Madrid,” smiles Luca, holding his waist tight and closing his eyes.






*rodillas malas, dodgy knees (someone calls Kakà so!)
 
 
 
sad peachpippopippo on January 14th, 2011 10:25 pm (UTC)
ooaishdfoiashf SO LOVELY to read this again. :D
M.: sport > calcio > rickylamechante on January 15th, 2011 01:20 pm (UTC)
I really don't know how to thank you properly because you spent your time reading this, correcting, rereading, re-correcting: please tell me how can I return you the favor! Maybe one day, if you wish to translate something in Italian... (totally useless, I know!) :D

s.pendules on January 15th, 2011 12:00 am (UTC)
Oh, this is so absolutely gorgeous! I'm so glad that Vy was so eager to share this - and I can definitely see why - and so grateful for you for writing it. ♥ The thought of people appreciating Jon/Luca always pleases me, but this just makes me indescribably happy. Your imagery is stunning, and you describe how their lives become woven together so beautifully. It's difficult to choose a favourite part (your interactions are all so great - I love Luca's with his father and his family too!), but the end. And Your chapped lips and the uneven hair that are growing on your chin. I miss the time we spend together, our silences… And just all of it.

Thank you for writing this. :)
M.: sport > calcio > milanlamechante on January 15th, 2011 01:36 pm (UTC)
I'm astonished to read your and darkblue comments and I feel embarrassed because this is my first Jon/Luca and my reference points where the amazing fics written by you and Vy. So I'm really glad you liked it and I thank you so much for commenting too!
As I said to Vy, if my Jon is still psychologically 'under construction' (Luca is a way easier to picture, for me, I don't know what you think about it), physically I definitely imagine him like the copy of adolescent Xabi.

Thank you again, I really really appreciate it!
baby, we're invincible.: afc ; the boys are too refineddarkblue on January 15th, 2011 12:41 am (UTC)
asdfgunbchvgfsdfbvtxg
THIS IS SO AMAZING. I'm so glad that Vy asked to translate this into English because this is all kinds of perfection. You got them so right, it just asdftvdrfgfvfht, it makes my heart so glad.

Luca understood immediately that Jon was the one with whom he wanted to share that secret, inaccessible to anyone else.
I FLAILED SO MUCH. ♥___♥

And. That. Last. Part. Perfect perfect perfect. All of this. It makes me so happy to see more people writing J/L, and even happier that you've done it so well. :D THANK YOU FOR THIS. I hope you write more. ♥
M.: sport > calcio > wengerlamechante on January 15th, 2011 01:43 pm (UTC)
OMG, thank you so much! I'm really moved by your comment cos I didn't know if in English it would have had the same impact: I mean, while translating, I found it hard to transmit the very same meaning and shade but Vy, also under this aspect, helped me a lot!
So thank you again for reading and writing to me this amazing comment. I wish I was better in English to write in this language more often. But I'll try ;)