literature

you've got a friend in me. | romano vargas

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Published: Nov 13, 2014

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Literature Text

_{You groaned and turned your body to the side, covering your ears with two pillows. The banging just wouldn't stop. You, of course, were not in the mood to get your lazy ass up and open the door. It didn't matter who was knocking. It could be your parents, ex-boyfriend, or that guy you had a crush with during high school―it didn't matter. What mattered, however, was that you weren't getting your sleep. And no sleep means you were going to get tired easily. Considering that you have a job tomorrow, it won't be such a wise idea to sleep during it. (You were scared to get caught by your boss.)

But the loud banging against the door just wouldn't stop. Groaning once again, you sat up straight, your [h/c] disheveled, and rubbed your temples. You then looked up at your digital clock. 2:45 AM, it read. Irritation started rushing through your veins―who the hell visits someone at 2:45 AM? Where are there manners? Where is there common sense? Though, you doubt that they had one. Someone with common sense should know very well that 2:45 AM was not a good time to visit someone.

You got up from your bed, putting on your slippers, and lazily dragged yourself to exit the bedroom and walk towards your living room. The banging was still there. It surprised you, somewhat, that the person (whoever it was) is still hanging there. If you were to be them, you would have left right away, seeming as that you weren't necessarily the most patient person in the whole entire world. You twisted your doorknob and opened your door.

"[Name]―"

"Do you know what time it is?" You interrupted. "It's two something AM!"

"I stood here for fifteen minutes, banging on your door―I think my knuckles are starting to bleed―but whatever." The boy―no, he wasn't just any boy. He was your best friend. Romano Vargas. The bitchiest bitch of all, as you liked to call him. (Oddly enough, he didn't seem to be bothered by the nickname, and rather liked it.) His olive green eyes didn't shine as they always used to; they were puffy and red. His nose, too, was red. It kind of reminded you of that reindeer with a red nose. The one you'd always hear during the Christmas holidays. What was the reindeer's name again? Rolf? Ronald? Well, it didn't matter. "―So, anyways," He continued. "You better fucking pay attention to me."

"So demanding," You murmured. "Let me repeat what I said: It's two something AM!"

"I know." He emphasizes, clenching both of his fists. He was clenching it so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Romano looked like he was about to cry again, and you instantly regretted the words you just told him. That's what you get for being a bad friend, you supposed. "―I know, [Name]. I know it's late. And I know you probably want to punch me right now―" Well, he wasn't wrong about that. "―But I really need someone right now. Someone to comfort me. And no one can do that except you."

You looked at him, raising an eyebrow. Albeit the fact that you wanted to question him further, you only sighed and opened the door wider. "Come in, stupid," Romano does not need to be told twice. He rubs his eye with the sleeve of his jacket and steps inside of your flat, and then quietly closes your door with a click. Romano had always liked your flat―he loved the aura it gave. He loved the smell of lavender in your living room and the neatness of it (He couldn't say the same thing about your bedroom, though). It felt like home, and it made him feel better. He scurries off to the comfortable brown couch and takes a seat on it, grabbing the remote and turning on the TV.

"So," You began, your arms crossed. "Gin or wine?"

"Tequila," He weakly replies, his eyes fixated on the television. You doubt that he was paying attention the show, though. Romano was sitting on your couch, his legs crossed as he hugged a pillow tightly to him. You wondered what had happened, but you knew that there was no way he was telling you until the next morning. "Or vodka," The Italian suggests. "I don't know. Just give me something strong. I want to get myself so drunk so I can forget about everything that had happened," He looked like he was going to cry again. You frowned.

"I only have gin and wine," You said. "That's why I asked if you wanted gin or wine."

"Oh." He sounded really upset. "You suck ass, [Name]."

You snorted as you head for the kitchen, getting himself a glass of wine.

Romano, after all, always preferred wine.

*

It didn't take long to comfort Romano. All you had to do was give him alcohol, watch TV with him, talk for a little bit, and then he's all good. You had to admit, it was kind of annoying trying to baby him all the time. Since Romano gets so easily upset over the little things. Though, you had eventually grew used to it. Besides, you were his best friend. Your job was to take care of him no matter what. And that included taking him away from someone who was about to shag him while he was drunk. (The boy just had no tolerance for alcohol. What a loser.) You sat down on the couch beside him, sipping in your own glass of wine as he began to talk about his problems.

"Antonio," He muttered. "Called it off. We're over."

It was a good thing that you knew how to keep yourself composed. Otherwise you would have spat the red wine all over Romano's expensive designer shirt that was probably from Italy or something. You put down your glass of wine on the coffee table in front and―awkwardly―gave him a tight hug. Romano did not complain, and was quite happy when you gave him a hug. You weren't the type to give hugs. Normally, you would just talk things out. But this―this was nice. He liked getting (rare) hugs from you.

"I'm sorry," You then told him, your voice soft and mellow. You didn't really know much about Antonio other than the fact he was dating your best friend. You weren't necessarily interested in Romano's love life and you tended to avoid it as much as you can. But, whenever they would break Romano's fragile glass heart; it was then that you became involved in it. You hated seeing Romano so upset―you hated how he would always throw non-stopping sobs and chokes, mumbling about he wasn't good enough for his partner. You hated all of it.

"You'll find someone else," You continued, rubbing his back reassuringly. "Someone better."

"Am I?" His voice was croaky, barely understandable to you. "Am I really?"

"Sure you are!" You let go from the embrace, much to his disappointment. But you were throwing him one of those rare and goofy grins at him. Your teeth pearly white, and smiling brightly at him. He, too, couldn't help but smile. "Do you know how many people inhabit this Earth, my friend?" Romano knew, but he shook his head. "There are lots of them! Lots and lots of them! And one―one special person will catch your eyes and you'll be head over heels for them. And they'll feel the same thing, too. They're treat you like you're the best gift they'd ever had. And they would murmur sweet nothings into your ears everyday, telling how thankful they are to have just met you," You brushed the auburn hair strands from his face and kissed his cheek. "You'll just have to wait."

Romano couldn't help but laugh―

What would he ever do if he hadn't met a friend like you?

He captures you into one of his tight hugs yet again, but this time, you were the one that hugged him back. He nuzzled close to your neck, smelling the sweet honey scent of your perfume. "Thank you," He murmurs quietly, his voice slightly muffled. "Thank you. Thank you for making me feel better, [Name]. I love you, you know that?" He squeezes your body tighter. "I'm.. just really, really, lucky to have met you. I'm so glad we met on that day during High School and became friends," So, so, glad.

You scoffed. "Well, who wouldn't want to be friends with me?"

"Don't ruin the mood, [Name]."

"Right. Sorry."}