RomanoxImmortal!Reader: Until We Meet Again Part 6

Part 6: A Brief Respite

        I am terribly sorry I have been absent, dear reader, but many things in my life were preventing me from being here. You've had a long time to think about it reader, have you figured it out yet? No? Well, no worries, dearest child, for all will be revealed eventually. I am giving you the pieces, but I will show you the final picture in the end. Take pleasure in this escape from reality, reader, for respite can only be so brief.

~Romano's POV~

        Costa has been working on documents for a few weeks now, and I must say; he's pretty good at it. He translates them quickly, almost like he's a native speaker, and then can spot a simple code from a mile away. On top of that, he's been subtly asking his girlfriend about the American forces, and is getting some pretty decent information out of her. Overall, it's going better than planned. The information gathered hasn't been enough to dramatically help us, but little things – like where there are extra supplies and more documents – are still helpful too.
        I walk down the main hallway on my way outside to take a break. Doing paperwork is boring as fuck and I can only focus on it for so long. I pass by Costa's office. I don't know what prompts me to look in as I walk past, but I do. Giovanni is hunched over the desk, his disheveled (h/c) hair hanging over his face while he is rapidly scribbling on a piece of paper while looking at another. There's a messy pile of paper on the desk and the sheets are covered in his scribbles, probably notes and translations, and a large stack of papers are on his left that are the finished copies. Now that I think about it, he's been working his ass off ever since he's gotten the position. I don't know if it's because he's grateful for not heading to the battlefront like the others or if it's just his work ethic, but it's probably not healthy to be constantly working that hard. Now that I think about it, I don't remember the last time he's left that desk since he's gotten the job.

~(F/n)'s POV~

        “Hey.”
        I jump when I hear someone speak; it interrupts the concentration I had on the document I was translating. When I look up I see General Vargas leaning on the door-frame, staring at me with his intense peridot eyes and a small frown on his face. I stare back at him, confusion written on my features.
        “Yes? Did you need something sir?”
        “Follow me.” He turns and walks away, not even glancing behind him to see if I'm following. Quite frankly, the whole 'no talking' thing is getting irritating. He just expects me to follow him. And yet, following him is exactly what I do.
        We walk for a little while, going down many twisting corridors until we get to an area I don't recognize. Vargas pushes open a door, and a large gust of cold wind hits my face as he walks straight out into an empty courtyard area. It's pretty small, and only has a lone tree in the center, but it's by the fence that faces out into the wilderness. I shiver and pull my coat a little tighter around me as I follow him to the tree, wondering what on earth he's doing now. This man never ceases to surprise me. I can never figure out what he's doing or thinking behind that cold gaze of his.
        General Vargas plops himself down onto the frozen ground and runs a tan hand through his dark brown hair before leaning against the trunk of the tree. It looks like this area is in the back of the complex; somewhere out of the way and quiet. It's probably where he goes to get away from it all. I'm kinda surprised he's letting me come here with him; I get the feeling that not many have that privilege.
        “Sit down Costa, it's not that cold.” I do as he says, sitting next to him and staring beyond the fence in silence, waiting for him to speak. He seems to be gathering his thoughts. His green eyes are unfocused and clouded, and he seems to be focusing on something inside his head rather than what's in front of him.
        “When's the last time you took a break?” He doesn't sound upset, more curious than anything. He also doesn't look at me, still staring ahead. I shrug.
        “Um, last week? Maybe? Honestly, I don't know, sir.” I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, studying his profile. He has a strong jawline, set and determined. His dark hair is slightly messy, falling into his eyes a little bit while that one curl is defying gravity and stubbornly sticking up into the air.
        “Don't call me sir, please. It makes me feel old. At least don't call me it when we're on break, alright?” I turn and stare at him in surprise – he switched from Italian to English. Granted, his accent is still VERY prominent, but he's no longer speaking in his native tongue.
        “Y-you're speaking in English?” I remain with Italian, at least for the moment. He still doesn't look at me, instead choosing to answer my question while watching a lone bird fly across the sky above us.
        “Yeah. I don't really care for other people always knowing what I'm saying, alright? Everyone here is fucking nosy as hell and it gets on my nerves. So, I speak English. Those stupid fuckers don't know what the hell I'm saying.” His language is quite... colourful, but not surprising when I remember when he got upset at one of the officers. He has the mouth of a sailor and enjoys using it.
        “Alright, then what should I address you as if I can't use sir?” English feels clumsy on my tongue because I haven't spoken it in months. Probably better for me considering I'm supposed to be an Italian from Florence.
        He frowns a little when I speak, but goes back to a fairly neutral expression. “Just call me by my first name.”
        “And what's that?”
        “Lovino.”

~Romano's POV~

        I'm not entirely sure why I just told Giovanni my real name instead of just telling him 'Romano' like I tell everyone else, but then again, I'm not entirely sure why I brought him out here in the first place. I just kinda did. You know what? I blame Feli. Damn brother, making me try to make friends and shit. I usually fucking hate men, they're all just stupid. But, Giovanni isn't as stupid as the others. I guess I tolerate him.
        I shift a little, adjusting so I can look at Giovanni out of the corner of my eye. “So, what's your family like? Got any siblings or anything?”
        He widens his (e/c) eyes for a second before looking away from me and copying my motions form earlier. He looks out at the fence, seeming to focus on that instead. “Well, that's a little complicated.” I can't help but to smirk; if only he knew. I highly doubt it's as complicated as my family 'tree'.
        “Try me.”

~(F/n)'s POV~

        I don't know why he's wondering about my family life, but then again, he could just be lonely. I mean, we ARE in the middle of the war, and I'm sure that not many people want to casually talk to one of the highest-ranking people in the country. I figure that I should stay as close to the truth as possible; there's less of a chance of messing it up if I have to talk about it again.
        “Well, I kinda live on my own right now. I have been for a while. My parents loved me very much, and I (had ___ number of siblings / was an only child). Unfortunately, my family died when I was very young, due to, um, disease.” Not the truth, but I can't exactly say that I'm immortal, now can I?
        “Who took you in after that?” His voice is quiet, and I don't know if it's because he's blaming himself for bringing up a possibly sensitive subject or something else.
        “Well, I wandered around for a while, but then this nice elderly couple took me in because they couldn't have children and wanted a child.” That's not a lie – various people have taken me in over the years, but they were the first. They were also fugitives from the war in (home country), and adopted the poor little orphan girl who was all alone. “They died a few years ago though, but I'm able to take care of myself now.”
        A long silence stretches out between us before he speaks again.
        “You know, we really aren't that different.” I glance at him out of the corner of my (e/c) eye.
        “How so?”
        “Well, my grandpa raised me and my twin brother. We aren't sure who our parents are, he never talked about that. My grandpa was a very strong and powerful man. He was a war veteran. But, he died when me and Feliciano were very young. My older brother, Antonio, took me to Spain to live with him while my twin went to Austria to be raised by someone there. We actually didn't see each other for a very long time.” He remains looking up at the sky while speaking, and speaks slowly. The topic sounds like it pains him, but he most likely thinks it's only fair considering I just told him what happened to my family.
        “Feliciano is your twin then?” He nods.
        “I also have an older sister named Bella. She lives in Belgium right now.” That must be hard on him, considering Italy is at war with Belgium right now.




        They talk for a long time, and the two learn quite a bit about each other. Among these things was that Lovino learned that (F/n)'s favourite colour is (f/c), and she learned that he inherited an obsession of tomatoes from his brother. Also, he hates turtles with a passion. She also learned that he hates war just as much as she does, and that he and his brother never wanted to fight in the first place.
        The two eventually go back inside to finish their work, but they talk almost every day after that while sitting under the lone tree. They converse in English so their thoughts can remain unheard by others, and they ignore titles when they're with each other. Both are lost, lonely souls that managed to find each other in the midst of wartime. They become fast friends, all the while maintaining a slight air of professionalism and detachment because he is a high-ranking general and she is a lowly intelligence agent. She feels guilty in deceiving him, but what she doesn't know is that he knows full well that she's a spy for the Americans. He can tell in the way she speaks, and from the slight 'mistranslations' that cause the Americans to get the upper hand. He won't tell anyone though, mainly because even though he's forced to fight when he's told to fight, it doesn't mean that he'll tell anyone about someone trying to end the war as soon as possible. He knows that he's on the losing side, and the more the loss is prolonged, the more lives are lost.