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@liambritpace
Moodboard 1/?; Relationships; Leone Messina & Liam Pace
“If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together... there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart... I'll always be with you.”
I may end up failing too | A Liam Pace Playlist
01. Under Pressure // David Bowie & Queen.
“Under pressure That brings a building down Splits a family in two, puts people on streets”
02. Numb // Linkin Park
“By becoming this all I want to do Is be more like me and be less like you”
03. Boulevard of Broken Dreams // Green Day
“ I walk this empty street On the boulevard of broken dreams Where the city sleeps And I'm the only one, and I walk alone”
04. Daylight // Matt & Kim
“And in the daylight I don't pick up my phone 'Cause in the daylight anywhere feels like home”
05. Eraser // Ed Sheeran
“I guess it's a stereotypical day for someone like me Without a nine-to-five job or an uni degree To be caught up in the trappings of the industry “
06. Play That Song // Train
“Hey, Mr. Guitar When you gonna strum it My girl just heard this song and you should play it 'cause she loves it Can you get me off the hook, get them fingers picking now I'll throw some money in your cup Mister, please don't let me down”
07. Peace Train // Cat Stevens
“Now I've been happy lately Thinking about the good things to come And I believe it could be Something good has begun”
08. Wonderwall // Oasis
“Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me And after all, you're my wonderwall”
…and that’s how the kitten became a wiggly chin rest
Boyce Avenue - Breakeven
Limitless (2011)
Feels weird to sleep alone. I'm not used to it. I don't know why. He used to go away all the time, but this time he's gone, and I know he's gone, and the bed feels lonely. It's like, I don't know how to sleep alone.
Meredith Grey (via b-zenn)
Express Yourself
Full Name: Liam Matthew Pace Age/Birthday: 34 | July 14th, 1981 Gender Identity: Male Sexuality: Bisexual Skin Tone: Fair Build: Slim Height: 6′1″ Weight: 139lbs Hair color: Dirty Blond Eye color: Piercing blue. Imperfections (beauty marks, birth marks, scars, blemishes, etc): A scar on the bridge of his nose (x), two scars along his back. Tattoos and Piercings: Tattoos; A hand drawn map of a small section of Roma extending from the crook of his elbow to the base of his wrist on his left arm. Piercings; none. Attire Style: Very casual. Aka; Whatever he happens to own at that time. Usually just jeans paired with any old shirt, and worn shoes, no matter the weather. Is more likely just to wear a long sleeve shirt in bad weather rather than a jacket or sweater. Hygiene (good or poor): As good as it can be, given whatever circumstances he’s in.
Scent: Because he spends a lot of time outside, typically picks up the predominant natural smells of wherever he happens to be staying. Has a natural underlying scent of apples. Languages Spoken: English and random bits of Italian. (Mostly just common mannered phrases; Mi dispiace, grazie, per favore, etc.) Accent: Manc/Manchester Bad Habits: Biting the inside of his cheek and rambling when he’s nervous or uncomfortable, fidgeting either with his body, or by randomly plucking strings of his guitar when he’s not paying attention, chewing on the nail of his thumb or his pencil/pen when writing, finger tapping, apologizing too much.
Addictions: Playing his guitar.
Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door
Messina kept an innocent expression–something that never looked quite right on his features–through each of Liam’s questions, quietly enjoying the look of horror on his face. “Hey Pace, that’s between you, Cara, and the left side of the bridge,” he replied with a shrug. However, when Liam decided to toss his generous gift back on him, Leo finally cracked up laughing, letting up the ruse fairly quickly. “Of course I’m laughing. Should have seen your fucking face,” he countered, still chuckling at he wiped the water out of his eyes. “Can’t believe you thought you had sex with Cara,” he continued, stealing the bottle back to take a sip himself. And to ensure the whole thing wasn’t dumped on his head in second. “I mean seriously, how do you mix up Cara with me. For Christ’s sake you woke up on me, English.”
There was the largest sigh of relief that left Liam’s lips when Leone finally let up, revealing that there was indeed a joke behind that insinuation. So he wasn’t a complete idiot then. Thank god. Pulling his hand back from his hair to rub at his temple, he couldn’t help but allow a short breath of a laugh from himself as well, finding the other’s own humor far too contagious despite the fact it originated from his own misfortune. Not at all offended by the loss of his drink, the guitarist’s shoulders went up in a rough shrug, an explanation on the tip of his tongue as he tried his best to level his companion with an unamused look. Though the attempt turned out to be completely useless as he couldn’t keep the smile from his expression. The explanation still managed to fall short though, as Leone chose to let himself be heard once again; voicing a fair bit of information that had his expression melting into one they had just evolved from. “Wait, ‘old on, that’s not..- You’re sayin’.. Cara ‘n I didn’t do nothin’ but.. we did?” Once again speaking as if he could put a hold on the world in general, Liam’s hands dropped from his forehead, raising a single one to point between the pair of them with a raised brow to further explain his words. Because suddenly that joke about him and Cara wasn’t the joke it was supposed to be anymore, but more so one that detailed something different entirely. Something so different. Because now it wasn’t ‘haha, you didn’t have sex with her, silly.’ but ‘haha, you didn’t have sex with her, silly’, and now it seemed like his headache couldn’t get any worse. “Were we..- I mean, did we...” Once again resorting to confused sputtering, rather than actual sentences, Liam’s brows furrowed deeply in concern, eyeing Leone carefully. A million different thoughts ran through his mind, causing his expression only to deepen as he fought not to apologize right in that second. “...You’re not jokin’?”
Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door
Leo had to feel some sense of pity for the man since he could empathize with him for once. Not to mention, Liam had a knack for looking truly pitiful when he was upset in a way which demanded some compassion. So grabbing the bottle which actually had water in it, the troublemaker made his way over to the sad lump that was his friend and sat next to him. “Aw come on, Will, you earned it,” he replied, quieter this time as he gave him a light nudge in the side. “And I really think you could use something to take the edge off,” he continued, offering the bottle out with a necessary declaimer. “It’s not whiskey, I promise.”
“It’s a shame you slept in so late though,” he mentioned casually, observing their little abode as if to look for evidence of their night. A night which Liam clearly didn’t remember very well. “You missed Cara,” he continued, “She wanted to wait up for you. No clue why. Say good morning or compliment you on the sex, who knows, but she said she’ll be around La Porta Rosa again tonight. If you’re still interested.” And then Leo just waited, trying his best not to smile at his own joke.
Cringing into his arms at the once again incorrect name, Liam released a huff of a breath that quickly turned into an indignant grunt as he felt the gentle shove to his side. Turning his head in an effort to see just what Leone was offering, Liam eyed the bottle critically for a moment before lazily untangling his arm to accept the actually useful substance. Unless of course it was really just vodka - because after all, that wasn’t whiskey, now was it? Shifting so that the man was sitting up with a slightly less pathetic posture, Liam slowly uncapped the bottle, taking a few small sips in an attempt to rid his mouth of the foul taste of what he’d just call regret for now. “Thanks, mate.”
His brows had merely furrowed as Leone tried to explain some downside to his late awakening, a thing Liam only found himself grateful for with another much larger sip of water. That is however, until that water was suddenly caught in his throat as some unexpected words reached his ears. “Excuse me.. - What?” He coughed, bringing a hand back to his mouth as his eyes immediately settled upon Leo’s with such underlying concern. Because what? “You’re absolutely full of shit!” He argued, though the evident lack of accusation in his tone suggested Liam wasn’t confident about that fact. Not in the slightest. “She d-.. We didn’t-” Chopped sentences fell from his lips as his brows furrowed even further in contemplation, a serious attempt to question if such a thing had actually occurred - god he hoped not. Watching Leone closely, Liam bit the inside of his cheek, moving his hand in one smooth gesture to sprinkle a generous coating of water upon the younger man with the still uncapped bottle in his possession. “Fuckin’ prat, best be ‘avin’ a laugh, or I swear down...” He muttered, running his free hand through his hair once again, as yet another wave of regret ran through him. Idiot. Idiot, idiot, idiot.
Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door
For once, Leone didn’t wake up with a hangover, no doubt the result of his new child-rearing responsibilities. Instead, he awoke to a very clear, and all too amusing image of Liam’s disgruntles features, watching as the reality of his morning regrets dawned on him. Letting him maintain the slim dignity of a private morning puke, Leo lazily pulled himself up to a sitting position, cracking his back as he tried not to laugh at his poor friend’s misery. After a short moment of silence, Mess finally called over an all too cheerful greeting. “Buongiorno William!” Balling up the blanket which Liam had been so intent to rid himself of, he checked his pockets to see what he had on him. “Need something to take the edge off?”
Wincing at the greeting that would have been so much more appreciated had it not been one he chose to use today, Liam wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, sparing Leone from the withering look he currently possessed by keeping his sights locked with the ground. Though just barely - because really, of all days to wake up so cheerfully? Then again, maybe there was a correlation. “M’name’s not William.” He countered quietly, all but ignoring the man’s question for the moment in favor of turning back around to seat himself in front of the slab of concrete. With his knees drawn to his chest, the guitarist simply crossed his arms over his legs and buried his head into his lap with a muttered statement that was probably just as unintelligible as the ones from the night before. Though in Liam’s defense, it only took a few minutes for him to clarify, uttering a muffled “No thank you.” through his arms in a very late response to his friend’s offer. After all, he had just barely started to get a grasp on the kinds of helpful ‘tools’ Leone always had to offer, and knew better than to ask for something.
Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door
Grateful that Liam was apparently more tired than nauseous, Leo still couldn’t resist poking fun at the man’s rather pitiful state in his arms. “That was two shots, you know that right?” he asked, realizing that any question would be a rhetorical one at this point. “And don’t even give me shit about the beer, I drank most of that for you,” he continued, careful of his footing as the ground sloped down towards the riverbank. He gave Matteo a short nod of acknowledgement as his thanks before moving to drop Liam off in his usual spot, now marked by a layer of old clothes and a thin blanket. This, however, was far less simple than he expected.
“Liam…Liam, I’m putting you down,” he explained, finding the guitarist’s grip had tightened rather than loosened when he tried to put the 30-year-old-going-on-3 to bed. “Liam.” The name was a sigh of defeat as the drunk mess redirected all his efforts into staying glued to Leo’s shoulder with an impressive last gasp of energy. Matteo offered a short snort of laughter which did nothing to help the situation, and once again Leone found himself caving to the ridiculous situation. Fuck it. “You know what Liam, we should make a bet,” he suggested as he tried to maneuver himself into a sitting position with Liam still hanging off of him. “See, I bet you’re already asleep,” he began, grabbing an old pair of jeans with his one free hand to toss behind his head. “And if I’m right, then you can’t complain about my bony ass shoulders in the morning,” he determined, noting how Liam had curled up against him in a position which surely couldn’t be comfortable. “Deal?” If the musician acknowledged the gamble in any way, it was not apparent as Leo tugged the blanket loosely over them. “Two fucking shots.” And that was as appropriate a goodnight as any.
It wasn’t as if hangovers were completely foreign to Liam, after all, with how little alcohol it actually takes to get the man drunk, a mild hangover here and there is to be expected. One of such intensity however, now that was something the Brit was completely unfamiliar with, and it only took about a second of being even slightly awake to realize why that had been such a blessing before. For one - he was sore. Like, just ran an entire marathon, fell down a mountain; landed in a cactus, and got bashed in the head kind of sore. Secondly, it was way too hot for a blanket. Swinging his arm out with an audible groan of complaint, Liam swatted the much too heavy blanket from his body, before using the same arm to further bury his head into the thing he happened to be laying on that morning.
... —or person rather. Reluctantly cracking his eyes open, the guitarist pulled his head from his hands to take a glance at the human pillow below him. Furrowing his brow with a wince, the Brit tried and failed multiple times to come up with an explanation as to why he was sleeping on top of his friend, only getting one spot of information in return; headache. Terrible, terrible, headache. Well that wasn’t helpful. Without a word to his companion, Liam gently shoved himself off of Messina, choosing to walk a fair distance over to the small corner under the bridge where no one ever really went; if only because that ever so glorious nauseating feeling was coming back with every second he was awake, and that corner looked like a lovely place for a good morning puke if that’s what it came down to. Sitting himself against a loose block of concrete, the Brit rubbed his hand along his temple, attempting to wave off his headache, but the man was quick to retract his movements with a small hiss, finally noticing the rough scrapes coating his palms. Christ. See, this was why he didn’t do shots, Liam quickly determined, still trying to piece together whatever destruction occurred the night before. There was the Italian’s insistence on taking him out for his birthday, Renzo, Mess-- Wait, Leone, his first name’s Leone, being introduced to Cara - Oh god, Cara. That had been—
Lurching to the side, Liam supported himself with a hand against the wall as he finally lost his ongoing battle with nausea, emptying what little contents of his stomach he had onto the dirt covered ground. An attempt to swallow back the foul tasting bile simply did more harm than good as another round forced itself from the Brit’s body, leaving the squatting man to groan at his actions as he swiped his free hand through his hair dejectedly.
Trust me, it’ll be fun. Like he said; those were always some famous last words...
Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door
“Uhuh,” Leo offered in response, not understanding a damn word the man was saying as they made it an impressive one meter before the guitarist’s feet stopped and his mouth continued, mumbling more incoherent gibberish. “Affascinante. Dovrete dirmi di più domani,” he replied, determining that translation was useless at this point since Liam probably couldn’t understand him anyways. As it turned out, Liam couldn’t even hear him, to busy wandering the streets of dreamland as Leo was left fruitlessly shifting the dead weight against his side to try and keep him from falling to the ground completely.
“Liam, Liam, wake up.” The effort earned him a sudden jolt from the guitarist who’s attempt to stand up debatably made it even more difficult to support him. “Come on, ten more steps. Just count ‘em and we’ll be there,” he insisted, trying to get the Brit to concentrate on something for two minutes, knowing full well that the bridge was at least ten dozen steps away. “Maybe there’s another Will across the street,” he suggested, repositioning his grip on Liam again as they made it one step forward and two lurching steps back. “Or some fancy new guitar shit for ya,” he continued, grabbing Liam’s other hand to pull it over his own neck to get more leverage. “Or better yet, maybe there’s some sappy, romantic date over there, just waiting for you to indulge in your fucking abstinence.” No amount of proposed rewards was making Liam any more coordinated though, and if anything, the graceless guitarist was losing the last of his balance as they made it only a few painfully slow meters forward.
“Fuck it,” Leo finally declared, unceremoniously scooping up the man’s legs under his knees and shrugging the rather light guitarist into an easier grip. “Lightweight,” he muttered, making his way across the street in half the time it had taken to walk three steps before.
“’m goin’, ‘m goin’,” The sleepy assurances were muttered lowly as time and time again the guitarist failed to go just about anywhere, more just caught in a slight limbo of steps in both directions. Truly, Liam was trying his damnedest to help his companion help him, but his body was having none of it, especially when mind over matter just ended up being nothing more than the blind leading the blind. So when even the most enticing of offers brought forth only more incoherent assurances and pathetic stumbles, it appeared that Leone simply took matters into his own hands. Quite literally, as well.
If the recently turned thirty year old man had any qualms about being so easily hefted into the arms of his eighteen year old companion, he certainly didn’t show it. Instead rather, another drawn out whine was the only complaint to the quick movements before Liam settled just as comfortably in the man’s arms as he had against his side. The Brit’s head was quick to fall against Leone’s shoulder as his hands stayed deadlocked in the grip the younger man had thrown them in around his neck. With fingers still tightly woven between loose fabric, it seemed the grip the man had wasn’t one that would soon be relinquished, despite the fact the guitarist held way too much faith in the fact Leone wouldn’t be dropping him anytime soon.
Thankfully finding the natural rhythm of Leone’s walking more soothing than nauseating, it didn’t take long for Liam to slip back into his mostly unconscious state from before, unaware of anything anyone around him might be saying or doing; with the only thing resonating in his mind being the gentle sway that accompanied the man’s footsteps. That is, however, until another particularly different shift had him tightening his grip around the man’s neck once more as he felt his body re-positioning in a way he wasn’t sure he wanted to go. A grip that might’ve given way in another few minutes when Liam finally slipped fully into sleep.
Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door
Turning the corner out of Fillipo’s sight, Leo finally gave into Liam’s request for a breather, pulling them both against the side of an apartment building as the younger concentrated on listening for footsteps. There were no longer any loud, angry shouts or the quick scrape of boots against pavement, and for several long seconds all he could hear was the sound of their collective breathing–particularly Liam’s erratic, desperate gulps for air. When Matteo finally wandered his way past the alley on his path back to the bridge, Leone determined that Fillipo was no longer a problem, and they would be fairly safe to follow the redhead back to their makeshift home. The relief came with another chuckle, the thief still blissfully high off adrenaline and alcohol.
“You’ve got some fucking balls, Pace, I’ll give you that,” he laughed, turning to see if Liam had enjoyed his night as much as he had, only to find the man drifting off against his side. “Christ–balls, but not a fucking liver,” he sighed, rolling his eyes at the sight before looping an arm under his shoulder to try to pull him back up to a proper standing position. “Come on then, English, you’re way too classy to sleep in an alley. Bridge is up this way,” he instructed, irony probably lost on the Brit as he attempted to guide the man forward a few steps.
A soft groan fell from the Brit’s lips as he was shifted from the spot he was just beginning to settle in at, a phrase of incoherent jumbled English following the strange sound with the same effect. Roughly, it probably translated to something like; he didn’t want to move. Besides, in Liam’s eyes they had just done plenty of moving, hadn’t they? Probably enough moving for the entire year, if the older man was being honest with himself. Unfortunately Leone obviously didn’t feel the way, still attempting the jostle the dead weight around and still giving the Brit a bit more credit than he probably deserved.
Once again taking to wrapping a hand into the fabric of the younger man’s shirt, Liam gave it his best effort to make it home that night. An irate huff of breath falling from his lips as he nearly tripped on the first step, Liam cemented himself against the other’s side once more. They’d be under the bridge soon enough, he determined, just have to make it across the street. The quicker the better too, most likely. So with that new found thought of inspiration in mind, the guitarist shot a glance to his companion, allowing his fingers to slip from the material of the man’s shirt as he stepped away from him, beckoning him forward a nod of his head as he started a swift and even gait towards their home. “D’you think that guy would ‘ave just given me ‘is name?” He asked with a smile, waiting for an answer as the man brushed unscathed hands along his pants while observing his just as blurry surroundings. It was only when what felt like forever passed and Leone didn’t answer that Liam furrowed his brow, stopping mid step to turn around, finding the street behind him empty. Odd. “Leone, where the —” A particularly sharp movement had the Brit’s eyes flying open as his own knees nearly gave out from under him, the Brit twitching against the Italian’s side as he fought to right himself in the waking moments of drowsiness. “Sonuvabitch.” He muttered, tightening his grip on Leo’s shirt with a pathetic attempt to figure out what had just happened. After all, he’d just been across the street, and now he was barely a foot from where he had started. Now, while Liam’s mind immediately chose solutions like time travel, and broken memory, a reasonably sober person might have just realized they simply drifted off again.
Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door
Leone only let go of the back of Liam’s shirt once they were through the bright red door of La Porta Rosa, shoving him forward with the hopes that the giggling idiot would get a head start. Vaguely aware that the guitarist had chosen to eat pavement instead, Leo proceeded with Plan A: block the front door. Unfortunately, Fillipo was much faster than he had hoped, and the shouting little Italian came bursting through the bar’s namesake before Leo could find a suitable doorstop.
“Merda, Liam come on,” he urged, the gravity of his tone completely undercut by the laugh that interrupted his words. All but picking the man up by the back of his shirt, Leo couldn’t decide what was more hilarious: Liam’s disastrous attempt at running or Fillipo’s stubborn pursuit of the two dumbasses that had tried to fight him for his name. All round, Messina would call it a successful birthday celebration, even as Liam gave himself yet another set of scrapes to regret in the morning and apologized for the millionth time. “Shut up, English,” he shot back, pulling him back up by his arm as he nearly tanked it in front of a bakery. The night would be slightly less hilarious if Fillipo did catch up to them which, given Liam’s impeccable coordination, was going to happen very, very soon unless–
“Matteo!” The perpetually disgruntled redhead looked up at the sound of his name, spotting Leo and Liam bolting towards the end of the block where he stood and looking not in the least bit surprised by it. As the duo ran by, he waited patiently for an explanation and Leo provided an easy one: “La polizia.” Poor Fillipo didn’t know what hit him, but suddenly he was flat on his back, cradling his very broken nose as the two drunkards skidded off around the corner and a new stranger glowered at him from above before walking off without comment. This, Fillipo decided, was why he should stop accepting drinks from strangers.
Finally locating Leone in his field of view, Liam not so easily twisted his arm from the man’s grip, latching his fingers into the fabric of the other’s shirt instead as to have a constant anchor on something that seemed a whole hell of a lot steadier than him. The Brit was hoping the man hot on their tail would have given up by now, considering Liam really wasn’t cut out for this kind of thing regardless of his current blood alcohol level, but it appeared the man was very much one for defending his honor. The older man’s sights were about to cut back over his shoulder to check if he’d gotten any closer when the familiar name came from Leone’s lips, and Liam was glancing back ahead in an attempt to identify their friend among the blurred shapes he was currently seeing. True to the Italian’s word, Matteo did eventually come into the musician's focus, and it only took Liam a second to react to him - seemingly forgetting about the guy directly behind him as he greeted their old friend with nothing less than the cheerfulness one would expect from Liam. “Evenin’ Matteo!” He chirped, raising the hand that wasn’t plastered to his lead’s back in a sloppy salute as they passed, more than ecstatic to have seen the man along the way. “oh ’e’s great, innit?” He commented to no one but himself with a breathy laugh as he nodded in agreement to...himself. Though almost instantly, Liam felt himself regretting the small action as a not so familiar feeling decided to creep up within him.
Resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut against a wave of nausea as he kept in line beside the younger man with uneven steps, Liam felt himself slowing down at a rather quick descent. Breathing heavily, the lanky man nearly took another header as his fingers tightened in the fabric of Leone’s shirt, a few chopped words falling between labored breaths. “Leone can we —Christ...I can’t. We need t’ stop, please.. can we stop...” He huffed, tilting his head just enough to catch the younger man’s gaze with a hopeful glint in his own. “Surely ‘e-...’e’s tired too, yeah?” All the running, glancing around, and falling over really hadn’t mixed well with his current state, leaving the man quite turned around as he fought to just not stop dead and lie in the middle of the street for the rest of his life. Though, now that the thought had crossed his mind... It did seem rather tempting. Then again, Leone’s side was particularly comfortable in that moment too -... though whenever he’d managed to press himself there, he wasn’t sure.
Perhaps the street could wait, though, that he was sure of.
Episode Two: One Shot, Two Shot, Red Door, Blue Door
Before he could attempt to, for once, be the voice of reason, Liam physically quieted him with a surprisingly well-placed hand, followed by a far more expected and poorly executed dismount. Once again helping Liam to right himself on his two feet, Leo struggled to pick out the meaning behind mumbled assurances about plans and something tiny. He couldn’t help but smile, however, at Liam’s sheer glee and excitement about whatever he was rambling about in an accent which seemed so thick it was nearly a new language to Leone.
Opting to let Liam have his adventure, Leo followed behind at a close distance. A bar fight was a right of passage, after all, and he had a terrible curiosity for what antics drunk-Liam could get up to. And for that, Leo was not disappointed. Watching the painfully polite Brit spit nearly incomprehensible curses at a complete stranger over the imagined theft of his name was the funniest shit he’d seen in weeks. He was laughing so hard that even he almost missed the very important flash of metal from Fillipo’s left hand.
“Oh no no no, Fillipo aspettare, aspettare,” he interrupted, trying to keep the occasional giggle from slipping into his voice as he stepped between the two. “È ubriaco,” he explained, trying and failing multiple times to get Liam to drop the pathetic fists he insisted on holding in front of him. Offering a good-hearted smile, Leo hoped the man would understand the joke and move on. As it turned out, Fillipo was an asshole. “Anch'io. Fiera probabilità,” the man replied, concealing the blade he’d retrieved underneath his left forearm with a smirk. Leo’s smile, on the other hand, dropped immediately at the words, finding nothing particularly amusing about the man’s interest in stabbing the guitarist. “Fiera?” Leo challenged, tossing a glance to his right to catch Renzo’s eye. “Messina,” he warned, recognizing his apologetic shrug of impending disaster and effectively distracting Fillipo long enough for the young thief to swipe the switchblade right out of his hand. “Ci siamo. Fiera,” he determined with the flash of his signature, cocky grin.
“Hey! Ladro di cazzo!” Fillipo shouted. The teen barely had time to inform Liam they were leaving now before the fuming man swung a fist at the air where Messina had once been standing. “Come on,” Leo urged, all but shoving Liam towards the exit as he explained, “He’s keeping the name. You don’t want it anyways.” Kicking a stool out behind them to offer a slight head start, he ignored Renzo’s usual farewell. “This is going on your tab!”
There wasn’t anything Liam had ever been more ready for than the moment he was going to take back his full name; his fists raised and poised to fight for the honor of being called a William, until suddenly his view of Will was replaced with Leone. “’ey!” An indignant little squeak broke though his lips as he fought a losing battle to keep his fighting stance, oblivious to the dire conversation taking place in Italian right in front of him. It was only when he heard the warning tone of Renzo that Liam finally frowned, realizing perhaps he shouldn’t be fighting someone in this guy’s bar. Finally allowing his hands to rest at his sides with a slightly apologetic look, the guitarist completely missed Leone’s quick movement, only taking note of the anger that seemed to triple in the stranger’s expression.
“Wait, what’re y’doin’ Le—” A rough shove cut the words off as the guitarist fought hard not to trip over his own feet at the sudden momentum pushing him forward. A quick glance was tossed over his shoulder at the raging name stealer just in time to catch him nearly trip as well over the sudden obstacle that had placed in front of him, bringing a wide smile to his lips at the sight. Once again facing forward with yet another childish giggle that covered the pout at learning he wouldn’t be becoming a William tonight, Liam miraculously managed to make it all the way out the door before the older man was suddenly taking note of the hard pavement that had appeared beneath his hands and knees. A habitual hiss came from the musician as he scrambled to right himself again, either too numb to actually register the pain of tripping, or too uncaring to notice. Regardless, the entire situation seemed a far bit less humorous when another glance over his shoulder caught a furious Will shoving the door open behind them, the guitarist’s laugh dying in his throat the second he caught the irate expression decorating the man’s features. “Uh oh...”
“Messina?!” The half uncertain, half slightly terrified plea for assistance came from Liam as he finally managed to push himself up from the ground, immediately taking off for the younger man despite the fact it seemed someone keep changing the direction in which the road was heading. Assholes. “Y’know, I changed m’mind!” The Brit quickly decided, dragging a hand along the ground as gravity nearly took the off balance man down once more. “I like bein’ a Liam.” Another glance over his shoulder. “‘m sorry!” Another unsteady righting of his center of gravity as he threatened to topple over once more. Since when was running so damn hard?
