My hands traced carefully across the pad on my lap, my concentration hadn't been broken in hours and my eyes, though tired from staring so hard, only moved from the paper to blink. The pencil sketched across the paper and the eraser soon followed. I growled in frustration at my disproportionate portrait and threw the pencil across the room.
"Nico!" my dad called up the stairs of our two floor apartment. "Venite al piano di sotto per la cena!"
"Venuta!" I called back. I stared longingly out the window of my studio, watching the colorful buildings, the long rivers and the motorcycles as they passed by. Sighing, I made my way downstairs.
"Nico, I have news." My dad spoke in his very broken English. We lived in Italy, but I knew it would come in handy so I had been learning English myself. I was much more fluent than my father.
"Si?"
"We are going to be moving to America."
"What?!"
"I knew you would be taking it non così bene, so I got you a piccolo something." He gestured out the window and motioned for me to go down and see for myself. I ran down and burst outside, relieved to be in the open again. A tarp caught my eye. It was covering something, the word "NICO" scrawled over it. I pulled it off in curiosity and gasped. At last!! My very own motorcycle! I laughed out loud, which was strange, and looked up the building into my window. My father shooed me away as if to say, take it for a spin! This was new to me. My father was never this nice. He knew I had been wanting one of these for years. I jumped onto it and revved the engine before taking off around the neighborhood.
HEY GUYS THIS IS ONLY MY SECOND FANFIC SO I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!! IT'S ABOUT SOLANGELO, OBVIOUSLY, SO KEEP READING AND I'LL TRY TO UPDATE SOON!! ALSO, IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY, READ MY FIRST FANFIC!! IT'S CALLED See My Shadows, I'll Be Your Light AND IT'S ALSO SOLANGELO!!! LOVE YALL,
XXSAM
YOU ARE READING
When the Artist Touched the Sun
FanfictionBlack as night, his hair. Deep eyes, dusted cocoa. Narrowed, concentrated. His hands, frail, holding the pencil precisely. His walls, up, his head, down. Nico. His hair, yellow as the sun. His eyes held the sky. His hands, holding nothing b...
