“why are you so unkind to me?”
they’re fifteen when he first poses the question, huffy-faced and frazzled after his silver-haired opposite knocks him to the floor in what was meant to be a friendly sparring session. even without his dominant hand, squalo superbia is a force to be reckoned with, and dino cavallone, in the gratingly sympathetic manner that only he could muster, had decided before they’d even taken first steps that he’d go easy on his friend – for his injury’s sake. for his pride. his mistake. he’s on his back within seconds, and squalo stands above him, proud, grinning victoriously, practice blade still gripped tight in his right hand. dino protests, and squalo rolls his shoulder, indifferent. dino huffs, and squalo snickers in response. eventually, dino’s reaching up from his loser’s perch on the training ground, to drag squalo down with him – if one of them went down, then so did the other – and squalo dodges with the ease of a trained expert. “ why are you so unkind to me? “, the blond demands, hoisting himself up, dusting himself off. the would-be swordsman snickers again, and simply replies like so: “ it’s not my fault you’re so sensitive. “
twenty-two. the battle of the rain guardians. squalo is skilled, but his opponent is quick to learn. in a final flurry of an unfamiliar, newfound technique, the varia’s second is defeated and ( quite literally ) left to drown. he remembers the sound of water rushing in his ears and the sensation of choking quite well. what he doesn’t remember is how he ended up leaving the dilapidated building, the aquatic remains of his battleground, and finding his way into a hospital ward, into a bed, being taken care of. but he does end up there, and from the moment he wakes to the moment he rests, dino is there, making sure his health doesn’t deteriorate in his stay – as a result of his critical condition, yes, but also as what could be a result of some spurred rush of erratic behavior on the swordsman’s part. but he doesn’t fight. he doesn’t even speak. day in, day out; squalo superbia stares at the ceiling of the hospital room, ignores his guest despite his attempts to converse – no, reason with him. it’s tolerable for the first few days, but even a man as patient as dino has his breaking point, and by the end of the first week of squalo’s stay, it comes to light in a flurry of angry yet concerned remarks. “ you’re selfish, squalo. why are you so selfish? why are you so unkind? “
“ because you’re too goddamn soft. “ it’s the first words he’s spoken in a week. they’re razor-sharp. he hates him for it.
thirty-two. it’s an arduous process to recovery, and he gripes about it every step of the way, but squalo manages all the same, and follows the doctor’s orders. the transplant was a success, and it would remain as such so long as the second-in-command kept himself relaxed, and out of any immediate trouble. no missions until he was fully recovered. no fighting. just paperwork and, if he willed it, occasional trips into the city, but solely as a civilian. truth be told, it drives him crazy – and truth be told, dino picks up on it immediately. he decides it best to get squalo out of the work atmosphere for a day, so he does; with a nudge and a careful word or two, he snatches the swordsman up and out of the varia mansion, and takes him out into the city instead. food, the occasional shop, idle talk. it’s not good enough for squalo. he hems, he huffs, he complains every chance he gets. dino insists it’s good for him; squalo disagrees. dino says he should loosen up; squalo disagrees. dino punches his shoulder playfully, tells him to stop living up to his namesake so well – he’d scare off all the children on the streets, if he wasn’t careful! squalo, in turn, biffs the blond over the head ( with his left hand, note ), not-so playfully.
dino rubs the affected area, already tender from the hit, and shoots the other a steely glare that he seems to save for squalo only ( ‘course, squalo’s the only one that antagonizes him so ). “ why are you so unkind to me!? “ it reminds him of easier days, all of it; school days, campus grounds, the warm breeze that only the sicilian summer could stir up. two kids, playing at mafiosi. despite himself, and quite to dino’s surprise, he laughs.
“ – ’s not my fault you’re so damn soft. “ but thinking on it now, he’s come to the conclusion that he’d not have it any other way.
THE SUN AND HER FLOWERS / NO LONGER ACCEPTING !
