Chapter Text
Off the western coast of Italy was an island that made for an ideal summer getaway of picturesque pastel buildings sprouting from cliffside foundations, gorgeously blue water that gleamed beneath the Italian sun, freshly squeezed limoncello that brought clamoring tourists and day trippers in pants that stopped right at their calves.
Capri.
Amongst the luxurious mansions and quaint little homes, the welcoming locally owned souvenir shops and restaurants, just a 15 minute walk away from Piazza Umberto I, there was a boutique hotel. In contrast to the bright and vibrant blues and yellows of neighboring buildings, the facade to this family-owned hotel was colored in a weepy shade of violet.
Despite its dreary appearance outside, the indoor furnishings and aesthetic were welcoming and warmer by comparison. A step out to the adjacent pool and garden area would make one believe they walked into the humble home of a Disney princess.
While the price to stay was fair, the hotel was often passed over for cheaper accommodations. However, after being famously used as inspiration for the setting of the last major Pink Dark Boy arc, more travelers were steadily making their reservations.
Villa Amore non Corrisposto.
For such a hopelessly lovestricken name, the service and hospitality couldn't be better. This was famously attributed to why the hotel was featured in Pink Dark Boy in the first place. A friend of the manga's creator was traveling to Italy from Japan, encountered a great deal of mishaps upon arrival and ended up at Capri by the reservation of another acquaintance.
There he was treated to what he felt was the best hotel stay, mainly due to the young hotel proprietor. Having heard of his troubles, Villa Amore non Corrisposto's owner did whatever it took to amend his trip with personal tours around Capri, showcasing the absolute hidden gems in the local restaurant scene and the chance to create his own limoncello.
It was the least you could do for that guest, for any one who wished to stay at the hotel. Villa Amore non Corriposto was a treasured family heirloom, passed down throughout the span of your lineage. No matter who was staying the night at the hotel, you did your absolute best to serve. The Japanese tourist who you served a couple years back was treated with the same excellent quality of service as his mangaka friend, who was much haughtier and demanding by comparison.
However, even you were prone to pulling some strings here and there on the behalf of guests.
A guest.
His stays were every now and then across the year, but he was definitely a regular in your eyes. From what you could gather by conversations and from shy peeks sent his way whenever he was wandering around to use the hotel amenities, he was a virtuous individual who carried an air of confidence and passion. A kind gentleman without a doubt, but one who looked like he could carry himself well in a brawl.
He was no slouch when it came to fashion, always strolling through the entrance as if he was returning from a shopping trip to Milan. And by god--that handsome and chiseled face, that looming athletic physique, and that deep velvet voice.
This guest was well worth the flustered scurry to Chiesa di Santo Stefano with the lovestricken daydreams and depraved fantasies that plagued you.
Greeting him 'hello' filled your heart with as much joy as bidding him 'goodbye' tore it with sorrow.
But now, as the warmth of spring had intensified into the scorching heat of summer, you were ready to give him his room key once again.
And have the chance to be his host for two weeks.
Here you stood, fussing over your appearance at the front desk, checking over your hair, smoothing out your skirt.
With every minute closer to check-in, your nerves unraveled further and further. You had a plan in mind, one that seemed impossible, but one that your yearning heart simply needed approval or rejection from.
Somehow within the span of these next 14 days, you were going to seduce Bruno Buccellati.