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Post by Brazil on Jul 10, 2013 13:37:00 GMT -5
April 16th, 1984
Praça da Sé — São Paulo, SP
Brazil The people were done with the dictatorship. After nearly twenty years of violence, censorship, crazy nationalism and a government killing his own people, controlling his every move, Luciano was done. He had had too much of it already, and as soon as he could find himself a way out, he'd certainly grab the opportunity — after all, he was the sole country in Latin America who still had a military government. Even Manuel, with his soft «Chile, ¡la alegría ya viene!» song, and Martín, bold as always when the result of the Malvinas war became the last drop, were free now. They weren't alright, but at least, one step ahead. And Luciano hated that feeling of being left behind. Of course, it started a bit different for him, but as soon as people decided to take the streets for their rights, there was the moreno, watching and shouting alike. It had begun the year before, 1983, when PM Dante de Oliveira, from PMDB, had proposed a Constitutional Amendment to anticipate the direct elections to 1985. The movement, taking up the name «Diretas Já!» soon was all over the place, so people would definitely get rid of Figueiredo, whom everyone was certain would be the last militar in power, and elect a civilian. A common man like them, without blood in his hands and a speech of returning to democracy "slowly and steadily" — people wanted it back now. The government didn't listen. His boss wouldn't talk to him about it, and come to think of it, Luciano couldn't remember the last time he had had a nice conversation with a boss. Words of advice sounded like orders, and being told that he didn't know better, but them, old men in green garb, did... It got tiresome. He wasn't a colony anymore, even Portugal was doing better than that, and his old man had had that viper... how the old Portuguese had deposed him with carnations was a mystery, and Luciano would die before admitting that, but he was proud of him. The Brazilians took the streets in response. The first manifestation, in Curitiba, was small, and the news barely paid it ears. Still, with Luciano in the backstage of things, the Brazilians had managed to articulate new protests around the country, under his boss' nose, until they got to Candelária, Rio de Janeiro. It had been their biggest archievement so far, one million Brazilians in the old streets of his previous capital shouting for elections, shouting for freedom once again. Now, they hoped for more, they wanted those dark years gone fast, and so, had settled for São Paulo, Praça da Sé. Not many people were gathered around the streets so far, still being early, but in the heart of the commotion was Luciano, sitting down on the pavement and watching everything with wide-open eyes. His people carried handmade banners, flags, water bottles, and he hoped — no, he prayed — nothing would go wrong. He wasn't a revolutionary, he wasn't anything like Martín, always protesting and getting what he wanted, but Luciano really, really knew that, this time, they would get it right, they would have the elections they wanted. |
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Post by Argentina on Jul 14, 2013 10:19:15 GMT -5
Martín was in a real bad shape, he lost weight because of that inglorious war he was trough together with a Military Dictatorship most like his neighbors, he sighed as his plane landed at the Congonhas International Airport, he arrived early because he always thought that São Paulo was a chaotic city and if he wasn't that early we would probably miss the whole point of visiting Luciano. Usually he would simply whine and complain and make the Brazilian meet him in Congonhas or maybe Galeão but today he was going to make a surprise, he felt like the Brazilian needed some help to endure what he was going through and since Martín was able to, at least, breath now he decided to visit his neighbor under cover.
He took a cab and asked to be left near a subway station, he couldn't make it obvious that he was planning to take part on the protests because in a situation like that you never knew who to trust and he knew that well enough for his subversive behavior. He barely spoke with the taxi driver feeling utterly nervous, he started to play with a coin looking around trying to understand that concrete jungle. Once there he paid the taxi driver not even caring for the change and runned to the station.
The subway was crowded, many people there showing some courage and starting to shout words of order even before getting into the protest itself, Martín smiled softly proud of that people that were standing up for themselves, he always thought Luciano's people would never do anything about that considering their history, specially his independence and republic proclamation. Once they arrived on the right place Martín's eyes widened to see such a crowd, he even felt his eyes getting watery. Dios mios, when did he got this sensitive?
This is probably a stupid thing to say but for God's sake Martín wouldn't have any other explanation for what happened right after he stepped on Sé. There were too many people, it would be nearly impossible to find Luciano but somehow he felt his presence clearly and followed his guts fighting the crowd to find the Brazilian sitting down on the pavement. At first he smiled widely to see the other just feel his expression fading, that wasn't a happy encounter, he wasn't making a surprise to make the other feel loved like he used to do (But he would never admit, of course), he was there to make sure the other would survive the pain and the suffering. He stepped forward to him, his hands shaking lightly due his stress and his terrible health condition and kneeled in front of him pulling him to a tight hug. He wanted to talk, to say to that boludo that he finally was doing something and he was proud of it but nothing came he just buried his face on the others shoulder sobbing lightly to finally manage to murmur something "Gracias Señor..."
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Post by Brazil on Jul 14, 2013 13:08:44 GMT -5
Martín showing up in front of him felt like a ghost he'd love to avoid.
Luciano was sitting down on the pavement, waiting for more people to join the crowd until they would have more of an impressive mass, when the other came into view. His people were shouting order, trying to archieve organization, and in between all of that was Martín — he looked well-dressed as always, and Luciano would have cursed him loudly for it, called him viado endlessly but... he didn't have the words for it. Martín looked like a walking corpse, all skin and bones in a pretty suit, and even his hair, usually silky and soft, looked lifeless. His green eyes, that Luciano loved losing himself in, had tears.
Maybe he didn't look too happy either, he guessed. Although he had kept his shape, pressured by his bosses, Luciano now had thick dark bags under his eyes, and sheer distrust on everyone was stamped on the Brazilian's face — distrust he'd pay for the disappearances he just kept blaming on himself, distrust because really, he could lie to himself so easily now... he hated it. It also didn't help he was basically going against orders right now, he wasn't wearing his garb but just some ripped jeans and a green shirt, messy hair. Come to think of it, it was a miracle he had shaved, but... he just had to look presentable. Orders.
Then, surprisingly, he was pulled into a hug, awkward and tight as Martín kneeled down on the pavement (more like fell down), and pulled him close. Luciano was a bit without knowing what to do, now used to the colder Martín facing the war and handling seven years of a strict government... he was so broken, and the moreno still had no idea what to even say, because really, what would he? Say that everything would be alright was too cheap for both of them, and he... his stomach was flipping at the visit, because maybe Argentina had always meant more to him than it should, and did he even deserve the attention? Well, bones and tears and all, the hug still felt like the most reassuring thing he could have right now.
"Tincho...?" The Brazilian tried, finally wrapping his arms tight around the blond and by God, he didn't remember feeling Martín's bones under his skin like that. "Ei, calma..." He murmured, not bothering to even attempt a portuñol — Christ, why would he? Luciano also wanted to pull back and have a good look at Martín's face, get a reasoning out of that maddening encounter but... instead? he kept holding the other tight, let the Argentinean cry on his shoulder as he tried, more or less, to kiss the other's blond hair and hand some security not even himself had.
Besides, it was too soon to ask why Martín had even bothered coming at all, and this would do anything but break the ice. It was strange and awful for himself not to know what to do, always used to talking and chatting Martín's ears off with a smile, but he felt like whatever he had to say would be just the wrong thing. He would let the Argentinean guide the conversation instead, something Martín loved anyway... The thought made him smile a bit, and hug him tighter.
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Post by Argentina on Jul 14, 2013 18:56:40 GMT -5
Martín looked up at him with a small smile, his face ruined by his tears, he backed away a bit and looked down looking shy to show his emotions so openly to the other, once again, when did he become so sensitive? He chuckled lightly like he didn't really want to do that but trying not to look so bad, it wasn't his idea, to look completely destroyed to the other and probably making him worry even more about everything that was happening "Ah, lo siento, Luciano... I'm fine, I know I'm looking thin and all, that was because that English bastard, hahaha, but I don't really want to talk about this." he chuckled again almost looking hysterical, he knew he was probably freaking the other out with his behavior.
He looked up to meet his eyes trying to find comfort and reassurance like he always did but the other seemed as lost as himself, and his dark circles were surely making him look even worse "I'm so happy you're here. I know I shouldn't be here, if anyone finds out I'll be in big trouble." he murmured looking to his sides as he was looking some undercover policeman "I wanted to know how you were, I was afraid your people would never do anything! I'm not trying to look superior or anything even because I'm still with this problem, kinda, not so worse than you but still... Dios mios what am I talking about? I'm always talking too much, I don't know if we should be here, it's dangerous." he frowned lightly and stood up trying to find some place he could consider safe, that was ridiculous, a safe place next to the protest, it surely was crowded by military force but even then he wanted to talk to the other in private.
He held the others hand not really considering just offering it and waiting him to hold his hand and forced him to stand up dragging him to the small alleys, not even sure of where he was taking the other to, he spotted a coffee shop that seemed deserted and stepped inside leaving Luciano on a couch and moving to the counter to take two cups of coffee, he returned to sit by him and handed one of the cups starting to sip his own, his hand still shaking lightly.
"I'm so happy for you, Luciano, I really am, when I heard about all the protests that were happening I was so excited, I knew it wasn't good for me to come but I simply couldn't let you have this moment and not being here to watch and support you, you know, I always make fun of you because of your lame Independence but really, nobody deserves to live this way, I know how you were suffering, maybe more than me and Manu, it looks like they killed all your spirit. I was also afraid they changed your mind, made you believe that what they're doing is right, I was afraid that I would still need to salute you like we did when, hm, I was in this situation as well and God, I really didn't want to! I want to know how you're feeling, if you think it's going to change the course of your history..." he murmured fast looking the surface of the coffee tremble as his hands were shaking.
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Post by Brazil on Jul 15, 2013 14:05:01 GMT -5
The truth is, Luciano took Martín's hand without knowing what to do. All the talk about being in trouble... Wasn't he free now? Luciano wanted to shush him, press his fingers against the other's thin lips and assure him that no, he was free, and soon so would be him, both wouldn't have to salute anymore or bother with garb... With nothing. So he took Martín's hand, felt the cold touch under his fingers and stood up, following him dully to a coffee. They passed by a police station, they passed by a street that would end in a house Luciano had seen torture. He didn't dare say a word.
Instead, the Brazilian collapsed on the couch, looked up and watched the blond with shaky fingers ask for coffee in the best of his broken Portuguese. He stood out like an elephant in the sea, it would be troublesome to explain later... No. Luciano shook his head, and tried to put into his head that, finally, he didn't have to hand out orders. He shouldn't have to, like that strange girl with the thick-rimmed glasses who had kidnapped an embassador told him so, in a firm voice tone. She had been tortured, he knew. He'd seen so.
"Tincho..." He tried to voice out at least something so he wouldn't look like a complete idiot staring up dully as his neighbour talked his ears off. He couldn't grasp the words, they came out blurry and he felt more dizzy than not. "Look, my... independence was— I fought for it." He couldn't even sound angry decently. "But why wouldn't I be alright anyway?" He sighed, thanking the other for his coffee and sipping it lightly. "I didn't change, yeah?" So easy how he could lie... Still, he wouldn't just rub in Martín's face that for someone so against the dictatorship he... Damn if he could even dare think about it.
"Just calm down, ok?" Luciano leaned a bit against Martín, waiting for the other to shut up before it was his turn to speak. The Brazilian had a small smile, but he was more of looking down at his own coffee than into the other's eyes — Luciano didn't know, but it would take him a couple years to look at people in the eye naturally again. "Thanks for coming, really. I wasn't expecting, I mean... You just have your own problems and I— but I'm glad you're here and today I'm sure we.. I will get what I want, you know? What all these people do. You know I owe them everything, you know I exiled them... I have to get this." The moreno licked his lips, and closed his eyes as he let out a heavy sigh.
Maybe he'd need a good cigarette or two after everything was over anyway, once people outside had to stop shouting. The radio at the café buzzed, before a small song began, something like Amanhã vai ser outro dia... He hoped so.
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Post by Argentina on Jul 16, 2013 6:34:14 GMT -5
Martín rested his head on his and kept sipping his coffee as he talked just nodding slowly from time to time, deep down he wanted to shake the other and yell to him that it wasn't the time to be lying like that, at least the Argentinean was letting his emotions flow, a pretty rare thing he should add. But no, he just nodded, he couldn't force the other to act any different, maybe it was his way to deal with all that horror and if it was going to make him, at least someday, be the older him, with that charming smile and those warm eyes Martín would never be allowed to complain.
"I'm glad you're fine." he frowned as he heard his own voice, was he going to play the game game the Brazilian was playing? That didn't sound right "I mean, it's fine not to be good right now, it's fine to have changed a bit, I changed a lot, you know? Before I was really enthusiastic about all that military stuff and now? Fuck them, I'm happy they're leaving my side." he deepened his frown even more, worse than playing his games was starting, once again to talk about himself in a visit that Luciano was the reason of everything, he started gulping the coffee to avoid himself to open his mouth again.
When the music started he couldn't help to not turn his eyes to watch him, knowing that the song with, apparently, innocent lyric about a love that was lost was much bigger. He knew Luciano's soul was being sang there, the hope, the guilt for the ones who were exiled, the pain of the death and torture his people was going through. He leaned forward to leave his cup over a small table and back to wrap an arm around the Brazilian's shoulder and raised his free hand to gently pat his arm "I would never leave you alone..." that seemed off of everything but he felt he needed to point that out again.
A waiter came to take the empty cup and asked if they wanted more coffee, Martín nodded asking for two, he always loved coffee, reason why Buenos Aires were filled with classy cafés but recently it was much more than a simply taste it was a necessity, the easiest way he found to manage to keep alert even being so thorn. And if Luciano didn't want his cup, even better, two for himself.
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Post by Brazil on Jul 19, 2013 16:17:18 GMT -5
The music was the worst part, Luciano guessed. Not because his soul was being sang when Buarque hummed 'my people now live looking down, yet if you say so, It's said and truth', but for as long as his boss asked, he just sang it for lost lovers, and that said, Martín resting his head on his wasn't a big help. It was strange to see the other not call him boludo, not try and add subtly how Argentina was Heaven on Earth, or even how he just let his emotions flow. Luciano had always liked that side of his, to see that the man was more than he let on, too bad for Martín to be honest with himself it took so much.
"É..." The moreno sighed, listening to the other again. Martín... He remembered how the blond had quite a few ideas that maybe weren't good to think about when he most enthusiastic about the militars, and Luciano just wouldn't dare say it, but he still got the shivers down his spine whenever Martín as much as smiled at Ludwig. His mind was also spinning so fast, he was slowly losing the track of time, because wasn't that so long ago? Damn. "I'm going to be better, anyway, alright? Look at the people outside, Martín, something will happen today and I know it." He smiled timidly, looking outside from the café's window. "Tomorrow will be another day..." The song ended as he recited it, looking as if he'd seen a distant dream.
Both their coffees arrived, and The Brazilian gladly took his. "Are you going to pay for all that?" He chuckled, looking over at the blond's bright green eyes, like the colour of the Plata river. "I mean, thanks for the coffee but... Don't distract me from the protets, you spy." And maybe he was joking with things he shouldn't again, he saw it in Martîn's face, but when the other patted his arm and...
Luciano didn't think much, he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss against the other's lips, trying to offer some minimal comfort. "We will all be fine! And honestly, I'm tired of sitting here, let's just go outside." The Brazilian was soon standing up, gently taking the Argentinean's hands. It was only then he noticed Martín had not come with his usual chimarrão, or mate as he insisted because clearly, chimarrão was not a valid name. That gave him a bad twist on his stomach, like a bad omen things wouldn't end up fine and friendly, but Luciano chose to ignore it. After all, how things could possibly go wrong?
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Post by Argentina on Jul 29, 2013 13:48:49 GMT -5
Martín knew that Luciano could feel a bit lost considering who he used to be, what changed? He was so proud of his military history, the Prussian influence it had to the point he sincerely considered supporting Ludwig years ago and probably the only thing that stopped him was Alfred's power throughout all the Latin America, that fucker, he couldn't expect no less from the son of all the evil in the world. In what point of the history he changed his point of view and started to reject almost everything he used to be, was it the pain, the torture he felt on his people? It doesn't matter now, he was a new man and he was willing to help the Brazilian change as well.
"Yes, you're right, believe in your people, they'll surely do something today I can feel it too." he nodded reassuring the Brazilian's faith that tomorrow would be another day. He looked away frowning when he the other mentioned that he could probably be a spy "Pero che, don't play with this, if anyone finds out I'm here it wouldn't be good for both of us, they could think I'm trying to make a move on your government or maybe my people would think I'm flirting with military dictatorship again. Of course I'm going to pay." he said simply, he would usually make a scene of that but it wasn't the time to joke around.
When he felt the other's lips pressing against his all he wanted was to embrace him, deepen that kiss, feel safe in his arms and maybe try to protect him from all the reality they were facing, but it wasn't that easy, before he could, at least, think properly after that moment of intimacy Luciano was already standing up and dragging him along. "W-Wait Luciano" he let go of one of his hands and left some money over the table, probably a little more than he really needed to pay, but Martín didn't feel like it would be a problem, that café turned into a very special place to him now.
The Argentinean followed him trough the crowd yelling words of order, he smiled brightly feeling all that energy, he raised his hand looking down at the Brazilian and tried to yell too, his Portuguese sounding weird like always, but mixed with all those voices it was fitting perfectly.
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Post by Brazil on Sept 20, 2013 22:08:40 GMT -5
Martín's portuguese was strange as always, but what did it matter? Luciano turned around and he wasn't aware of it now, but that would be a scene burned into his mind, the sun making his blond hair bright like a halo, holding his hand tight and shouting with the crowd. Later in the future, even when the situation became something Luciano would beg the wind to forget, Martín's smile would be just like a photograph. An angel in a crowd party he didn't belong to, and by the Heavens how Luciano would later wish he had not been there, how he had wished Martín had hated him and kept his distance and not see where that all landed. Yet, for now, it was all a celebration, a promise of something more.
It was a change, an opportunity to say 'no' and fight for it.
"Are you sure about even being here?" Luciano pulled his close, if only to shout in his ear as the noise increased. People were gathering together around them, some with banners as they all yelled 'diretas já' and some other slogans. Simple phrases to represent wishes, or complex banners bringing into attention things such as a demand for amnesty and punishment for the torturers. Luciano decided not to think of the blood on his own hands, he didn't dare look at Martín with such phrases around his very being, not when he too... The moreno shook his head, and patted the other in the back before he moved away, asking around at the Brazilians for what would be done, what streets would they follow.
He figured they'd eventually hit the core of Avenida Paulista, a good walk from Sé, but for a more than fair enough cause. It would take them the whole day, and it didn't matter because more people kept coming, and some were even wrapped in green and yellow flags, his flag, was Martín even seeing that? It clicked on his mind why the Argentinean was so patriotic sometimes... It felt great, even if he had been an absolute and complete shit to his people and he didn't doubt he would still carry on being as such for a long time — No, he was being pessimistic, that wouldn't do. He was there to enjoy the revolution, and make it count.
"Hey, Martín!" He called for the blond and at that moment a girl dropped a flag over his shoulders, and there was a man nearby helping with facepaint, while families gathered together. In the windows, some people, elders, children, single people leaned over to see what was going on, some trying black tissues over their varandas, some keeping white flags. Some ignored too, skeptical about the demands and what could possibly happen. "Do you think my boss is seeing all that?!" He pulled the other close to say that, not wishing to hint he worked for the government there out of all places. "I'll show him, Tincho.. It'll hurt, but I will make it. I'll make it!" He smiled, the same smile he used whenever Médici called for him in his office and he just knew there would be pain ahead, but he'd smile like a goddamn idiot and maybe that's all that he was.
Maybe he was just a dreamer, he and all that crowd.
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