(Dramatic "I've just come back from the dead" gasp I LIIIIIVE! It only took me over a month, sorry about that 😅)
Frenchie couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Dracula? Are you for real? You're Italian and your favorite book is Dracula, which is about a vampire when it's common knowledge that garlic keeps vampires away. I'm sorry, I can't help but find that just a tad bit ironic." She puffed out between giggles. When she finally managed to catch her breath, she just looked up at him.
"Regardless of how hilariously ironic the choice is, it's still a choice that you made. So why? Why's that one your favorite? Although if you say for the characters, I cannot guarantee that I will be able to take the rest of your answer seriously. In fact I can assure you that I won't take the rest of your answer seriously."
(Lmao, it's all good! I have school so my responses are going to be spotty.)
At first, he did not really have much of a reaction. She did ask for a favorite book of his, and he really did not want to list four or five more. Adone only laughed after thinking about what she said. It is kind of ironic at how an old vampire novel is his favorite book. He gave a simple, yet prideful, nod. "At least if vampires do exist, I will be safe in that case," He mused.
He wondered, why is Dracula his favorite book? Resting his index on his bottom lip, he reclined back into the chair. It creaked even as he adjusted himself for a second. When he had a rough idea as to why, his gaze flickered back to Frenchie.
"It wasn't a choice I made, that's just how it came to be. The book was given to me as a present from someone special, and when I was a kid, it was my escape from reality and all of its troubles, " He shrugged. "I don't know, it's just a book like all the others. It's a puzzle of words that is always fun to figure out together no matter how times I have read it."
"Really? Huh, interesting." Her reaction was surprisingly short for Frenchie's usual theatrics. But she almost seemed to be contemplating something. She never liked to read since she was a visual learner. It was hard to turn words in a book into an image she could actually understand. So she had never considered reading from the perspective that Adone had described.
What if she did? Would that change her interest in books? Could that make it easier for her to read? "Could you read to me one day?" The question popped out of her mouth before she even realized she'd been thinking about it, causing her to go bright red. "Sorry, sorry, you don't have to answer that. I was just thinking about how to described books and how maybe that would help me like reading more but I have a hard time turning words into pictures and thought, hey maybe hearing it aloud would help and I'm gonna stop talking now-"
All he could do was nod. It is interesting especially when having a Catholic mother who isn't particularly fond of monsters and all books dealing with them. Then again, he has skipped Sunday school a thousand times; half of those times he was reading Dracula by himself. Or he would run to his room whenever there was shouting and pull the book out from his bag. He has it in English thanks to an English exchange student he still writes to. He doesn't know why, it's just a book. Same as any other.
"Scusa?" He tilted his head down to the right. The first reaction coming from him was confusion, but after Adone listened to Frenchie, the puzzlement fizzled into endearment. He moved his chair as close to Frenchie as possible.
At first he was going to say something, but then he came up with another plan. Adone stood up a little just so he could kiss her on the forehead. "I will," He answered, "I will read to you whenever you'd like to, okay?" Gently, he lifted his hand to cup her cheek. "Don't be sorry. It's better to ask questions than to be silent. Besides, if you stop talking, then what are my ears useful for other than hearing you? Hm?"
(Okay so I know that I'm literally the worst but I refuse to go over a month so hi again, I'm alive)
Frenchie leaned into his touch, an embarrassed smile crossing her lips. "That's true. Can't have you wandering around without a purpose, now can I? Not in good conscious, no sir." She looked up at him, her expression a little softer. "Are you really okay with that? You don't think it's childish? Most people wouldn't be so willing to read to a teenager, especially one out of high school."
But the thought was super sweet. Frenchie could already imagine it. Her, snuggled up in a chair with some fluffy blanket and Adone, sitting across from her and reading in that soft voice that she'd come to cherish so dearly. It was only a daydream but it just felt so…right. Who was to say it couldn't be real?
(HI! It's okay, I appreciate your response.)
Adone laughed, "It's true. Wouldn't be fun." He let his thumb brush her cheek. His eyes grew wide just looking down at Frenchie. Without hesitation, he nodded. "Yes, why would it be childish anyways?" He asked before adding on, "I am not most people, I am Adone, your Adone. You are not just a teenager, you are Frenchie, my farfallina Frenchie."
One more time did he kiss her on the forehead before starting to put things away. He knew that if he dragged it out, then he'd forget and then his mom would give him an earful. "I could read to you now after I clean up," He offered. "I'm sure I have some books lying around in my bedroom."
Frenchie brightened at the idea, her eyes lighting up in excitement. "Really? Oh that'd be awesome." She may not have been excited about reading but this was Adone, why wouldn't she be excited?
She hopped to her feet. "Well, I'll go pick one then. No guarantees that it'll be anything interesting, I just like pretty covers." She admitted with a laugh before going to explore and find a book for them to read.
"Yes! Awesome!" Adone laughed a little as he neatly placed leftovers into containers. Picking up the glasses of lemonade, he poured the remainder down the sink. Cleaning up after a meal was oddly something he enjoyed. It was routine for him, yet he sped up to process; doesn't really take him long to finish anyways.
He shook his head. "Most of them don't have pretty covers!" He called out. The ones that are in English just have some solid faded color then the title in gold or silver. Once he had wiped down the table, he followed after Frenchie.
"Don't make fun of me, ragazzo maleducato." She huffed with an exaggerated pout before turning back to the books to pick one out. She glanced around the shelves, deeply intrigued by the selection before suddenly plucking one off the shelf. It seemed old, bound in flaking deep red leather with an embossed gold title in Italian.
"Hm, this one. I like this one." She turned and handed Adone the book, eyes sparkling with wonder and curiosity. The scrawling cursive made it hard to read so she didn't fully understand the title, but that didn't stop her from wanting to know what it was.
"Oh, Farfallina, I would never dare to." He said so despite having to cover his mouth in order to hide any laughter. Adone turned to look around his room. Books are cluttered everywhere. Perhaps he should have woken up earlier this morning in order to clean everything. Oh well. Most of the books are at least thirty years old. Whatever books Nonno had from when he was younger ended up in his possession.
He wasn't sure what the book was that Frenchie had picked. The red cover looked faded from age. Adone held the book up to his face. "I promessi sposi. Alessandro Manzoni," He read. The gears in his mind turned, trying to figure out the English translation. Biting on his bottom lip, he stared up at the ceiling. "I think it means 'The Betrothed.' And this particular book was made…1864," He hummed while opening to the first page. Then he handed it back to Frenchie so she could see.
"Really?" She took a closer look at the page, squinting to try and make out the cursive writing and mumbling under her breath to figure out the translation. It took her a couple of minutes before she pulled back from the book with an excited smile. "Yeah, this one. If the title is anything to go by, I'm expecting good things."
She dropped onto Adone's bed, tucking her legs up under her and getting comfortable. "Come on, sit down. I don't bite. Much. I wanna hear this story up close and personal."
For him, reading the text was slightly difficult. The book is old. It's only a few years younger than when Italy first became a country. Adone shift his gaze from the book to Frenchie, seeing her grin with eagerness. "Exciting?" He shook his head. Rubbing the back of his neck, he added, "I would not get your hopes up about it."
He turned around, strolling over to the bed. "What is there that you want to hear about it?" He asked while sitting on the edge. "I'm not sure if I have much to say about it. I only read it once." His feet were planted on the floor. Two bookshelves stood across from the bed. Some of them with old spines like Manzoni's whereas there were more modern ones that looked starkly different. Resting his chin on Frenchie's shoulder, he wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Well, I'm hoping you'll read it. Then we can figure it out together. Let me be excited about reading, Adone. It doesn't happen all that often." She rolled her eyes with a slight chuckle. "I can't sit still long enough to read by myself. I'm an athlete, it's not in my nature. So I'm hoping if you read it to me, I'll actually be able to make it more than three pages. Sound like a plan?"
Frenchie only wished she was kidding when it came to her short attention span for reading. It was true, she couldn't sit still for the life of her. All those days of running around outside and doing everything under the sun that wasn't staying in the same place for longer than five minutes made her restless and hard to control. The only reason she kept her grades up was so she wouldn't get in trouble with her coaches.
Adone smiled, mused by the difference between them. Clearly, he was not made to be an athlete, but he can sit for hours on end with a book in his hands. Of course there is more than that when it comes to the two of them, but he cannot help but think of the contrast; he likes it for it is a little sweet detail.
"Of course, my Farfallina," He sighed. "I will read this to you. We will see how many pages in this old Italian we can go through. Stop me if you do get bored, okay?" There is no way he will be able to read all of it to her in one sitting. The book has to be around seven hundred pages. They could watch a film adaptation of it quickly than he could reading it.
Nevertheless, he used his one hand to open the book to the first page. His eyes stared at the page while the gears in his head turned so he could process what he was going to read aloud. Going from talking in English to having to speak in Italian is difficult, but he tried. So, he began to read the story in a low volume to Frenchie.
