Chapter Text
It’s night by the time Nero arrives at his new home.
It’s probably for the best; he isn’t in the mood to explore a new city after the tense drive on the way here.
He picks up the last box of his with a huff, dreading the long trek up the flights of stairs to the apartment he’s moving into.
His new guardian, Luca, had driven him from the airport straight to his home in Red Grave City, but had put his foot down at helping him carry his stuff. “You’re going to have to pull your weight around here,” he had said, like an utter bozo. “My house, my rules.”
Nero wanted to roll his eyes at that. Like Luca would be any stricter than the matron at his orphanage, or some of the foster parents he’s been with throughout the past decade or so.
Nero is sixteen and never knew his birth parents, and he’s done this whole “new home” thing dozens of times before. He’s a rough kid, and he’s been told he has a particularly unpleasant personality, so he never sticks around in one place long.
Look, it’s not Nero’s fault he’s bad with authority, they just gotta stop telling him what to do and what to think all the damn time. He may or may not have punched his last foster father in the face during a heated argument about Nero being allowed out of the house.
Yeah. It’s no wonder no one wants to keep him around.
And that’s not even getting into his white hair, which was treated as a sign of religious impurity by practically everyone on the island of Fortuna. The matron suspected it was the way it is because he was born out of wedlock, but Nero stopped taking her seriously a long time ago.
Before coming here, the matron pulled him aside and told him to behave. Luca was very well his last chance of having a family, she said. But he’s sick of being treated like an object to be passed around, so he had just shoved her hand off of his shoulder and left.
He doesn’t need to hear about last chances and false promises about family. It’s never worked out before, so why would it start now?
But, he’s always been fostered back in Fortuna. He’s never left the island until now.
Luca is a special case. Apparently, he’s a distant cousin of his mother’s, only found recently. Nero doesn’t know what Luca’s reasons are for taking him in, but he can’t say he’s not resentful for being torn away suddenly from everything he’s ever known.
You can’t get any more different from Fortuna than Red Grave. Where Fortuna is sunny and bright and full of the soothing aroma of the sea, Red Grave is cloudy and dark and smells like a depressed sewer. And that’s not even getting into the fact that they’re in two different countries with different languages and cultures.
Nero doesn’t love Fortuna, how can he with the way he was treated as a pariah for his hair and background, but it was familiar. He never thought he’d miss the island, but look at him now.
He’s just glad that he paid attention to his English classes back at his old religious school, otherwise this experience would be so much more annoying than it already is.
A drop of rain interrupts his thoughts. He looks up and sees the cloudy skies rumbling, and hurries inside the apartment complex. He does not need his things soaked on top of all the other bullshit, thank you very much.
Luca’s already lounging in front of the TV by the time Nero makes it up the three flights of stairs to their unit. Nero eyes him for a second while he’s distracted, taking him in for the first time since he met him.
Luca has dark hair, a stocky build, and a thick mustache, contrasting Nero’s paleness, leanness, and annoyingly baby-faced appearance. Luca looks like anyone else in Fortuna, unlike Nero. How can they possibly be related?
He doesn’t even know what his mother looked like, though. Maybe she resembled Luca more than she resembled Nero. The idea stings a little bit.
Nero’s always suspected he looks more like his father than his mother, considering his father was a foreigner and Nero’s own unusual looks, but the thought doesn’t give him much comfort. Whoever his father was abandoned him a long time ago, so why would Nero want to look like him?
On the long ride to the city, Nero had taken a jab and asked Luca if he knew his mother, but Luca just glared at him and changed the subject. Nero, however, saw the way his hands trembled at the steering wheel, the way his eyes shifted across the road like he was waiting for something to come out of the corner of his vision, and knew that there is more to the story than what he’s being told.
But now isn't the time to grill him. He needs to observe him some more first before getting the information he needs. “I’m all done bringing in my stuff,” he tells Luca, only with some lingering bitterness from the lack of help.
Luca grunts in affirmation, but doesn’t glance at him.
Nero’s noticed that Luca avoids looking at him whenever he can. Nero wonders if he’s getting money for taking him in, because it sure seems that he doesn’t like him enough to be doing it out of the goodness of his own heart.
Nero moves across the cramped apartment and into his new room. It’s only furnished with an unmade bed and a small desk next to it, but it’s more than Nero usually gets on such short notice. It’s a tiny space, but he didn’t have much stuff to bring with him anyway. He doesn’t have a dresser, so he dumps his clothes into a basket and calls it good.
He doesn’t bother with the rest of his meager amount of stuff. He’s too antsy to fully move in, so he just throws some blankets on the mattress and lies on it, staring up at the dusty ceiling. He counts the spiderwebs like they’re sheep, hoping to sleep early to prepare for the school day tomorrow.
It kind of sucks that he’s starting school immediately after arriving, but it is what it is considering it’s right smack dab in the middle of the school year.
His stomach grumbles in protest, not having eaten since the plane, but Nero doesn’t want to go out and talk with Luca again. He’s had enough awkward and stilted conversations with his so-called relative to last a lifetime and then some.
It’s all happening so fast. He didn’t even get to talk with Luca over the phone before being shuttled off to a city he hadn’t even heard of before. Did everyone seriously expect him to be ok with this?
All of this sucks so fucking much.
His sleep is rough and interrupted. He tosses and turns in his sheets, shivering from Red Grave’s too cold weather. Luca’s apartment doesn’t have any heating, so Nero makes a mental note to get another blanket when he has the chance in between the winks of sleep he does get.
So he wakes up on his first day of school more tired than when he went to bed. He rubs at the bags under his eyes as he gets ready, willing them to leave, but they stubbornly stick on like ink on skin.
Luca is already out of the apartment by the time he gathers himself up to leave his room, off to work or whatever he does during the day, and Nero takes the opportunity to raid the cabinets looking for something to eat. Cereal. Perfect.
After eating, he doesn’t have much to do besides mindlessly scrolling his phone, so he packs his bag and heads out early. Might as well explore the city while he has the time.
He wraps his jacket tighter around himself in the chill air. The sky is still dark in the early morning, and it makes the city look grey and lifeless. As he makes his way through the streets, he doesn’t see a lot of people. It strikes him as odd, especially when the few people out seem wary, constantly looking over their shoulders.
They give him weird looks when they pass by, and for once Nero thinks it’s not because of his white hair.
To be honest, it freaks him out a little bit. What are the people here so afraid of? They look like they’re about to jump out of their skin at the slightest sound. He probably should have looked up crime statistics before deciding to take a stroll around.
Well, he has to walk to school everyday anyway, so he better suck it up. He heads towards the local high school that he’s been enrolled in, and when he arrives he’s awed by the size of the building. It’s more than double the size of his school back in Fortuna, and he stands dumbly looking up at it, even as the wind makes him shiver.
“Are you new here?” a soft voice asks behind him. Nero turns around and sees a girl around his age, with a sweet face and soft brown hair.
She seems like the opposite kind of person that would usually come up to him; that is to say, bullies and delinquents. Instead, she looks like an honors student, with her tucked in shirt and ironed skirt and slicked back ponytail. But her smile is warm and inviting, and Nero feels relaxed despite himself.
“Yeah, I am,” Nero says, somewhat awkwardly. He can count on one hand how many times he’s interacted with a girl his age, and isn’t that embarrassing to admit. He looks around, but it’s only him and her on the front lawn of the school.
The girl brightens up at his answer for some reason. Her brown eyes sparkle with interest. “I heard we were getting a new student today,” she explains, “so I’m glad I caught you early. I’m Kyrie. I’m a part of the student council.”
Nero nods, trying not to be overwhelmed by her positivity. “Nero.”
“Nice to meet you, Nero.” She then gives him a considering look. Nero is entranced by the way her bangs fall softly on her forehead. “Sorry for asking, but where are you from? Your accent sounds familiar to me.”
Ah. It shouldn’t surprise him that he has an accent, but he thought he practiced his English enough to iron it out. To his own ears, he sounds just like her, but he guesses that’s just how accents work. “Fortuna.”
“Oh! My parents are from there,” Kyrie says, bouncing on her feet. Nero blinks in surprise at her enthusiasm. “I’ve always wanted to learn more about Fortuna, but they don’t talk much about it.”
Nero scoffs. “No wonder. There’s not much to talk about.” If there’s one thing to know about Fortuna, it’s that nothing exciting happens. Everything happens according to design over there. It’s almost cult-like, if he’s being honest.
Kyrie, however, actually giggles at that, covering her mouth with a hand. “My mom says the same thing.” She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Nero’s eyes follow the movement. “Can you tell me more?”
And Nero does. Maybe she represents a piece of home to him, or maybe she’s just that kind, but he feels almost at peace with her. He talks about the sea, the salty air, the fresh produce, and after a bit, the people, both the little good and the numerous bad.
It’s a bit odd, talking about all he’s ever known to someone who is practically a stranger, but Kyrie is an attentive listener and asks all the right questions to get him to keep talking.
In return, she talks a bit about Red Grave. It’s an old city, one of the oldest around. “The people here can be a bit rude to each other,” she says, as she shows him around the school before classes start, “but it’s my home. I’m sure you’ll grow to love it, too.”
Nero doubts that, but he holds his tongue. He likes her so far, so he shouldn’t accidentally offend her. But something tells him she’s a strong one, considering that she’s weathering his blunt personality pretty well.
But he soon finds out that Kyrie’s kind demeanor is the exception, not the norm. Nero is placed in the same form as Kyrie, and when he’s brought up to the front to be introduced to the class, he can hear snickers throughout the room. They whisper about his accent, his hair, the way he slouches, everything and anything.
”Who’s he trying to impress with that look?”
”What, does he think he’s better than us?”
”What’s up with that accent? It sounds fake.”
Besides the comments about his accent (which, seriously, haven’t they heard an Italian accent before?), it’s not something he isn’t used to, unfortunately.
He glares at the loudest offenders and finds a seat near the back, which is conveniently near Kyrie. She gives him a sympathetic smile and mouths ignore them.
Usually, sympathy directed at him is either fake or full of pity, but he can tell her look is genuine. He takes her advice.
He sticks close to Kyrie whenever he can for the rest of the day. She doesn’t seem to mind, actually she repeatedly assures him that she enjoys his company, but no one else approaches her.
“Don’t you have any friends?” Nero asks rather bluntly during their lunch block. He wonders if he’s warding them off with his presence.
They’re sitting alone in the courtyard, under one of the trees. The rest of the student body gives them a wide berth, though Nero can feel the stares anyway. Cowards, the lot of them.
“Well, I have you, of course,” she says. She can’t quite look him in the eye.
Hm. It’s hard to imagine someone like her having no friends, but Nero of all people knows that he shouldn’t make assumptions.
Nero leans back into the tree, looking up at the dark sky. He’s surprised that they haven’t been rained on yet. “Yeah, I guess you have me.”
Might as well keep her company. It’s not like anyone else wants to hang out with him around here, and she deserves someone by her side. Maybe not him, but he’s fine with fulfilling the role for her in exchange for the help she’s shown him.
School isn’t as bad as he thought it would be, with her by his side.
By the end of classes, Nero is comfortable enough to share a little bit about himself with her. He mentions that he’s an orphan, and that he only moved here because they found a distant relative of his.
Kyrie gives him an odd look at that. “Really? They sent you here? That’s…” She trails off.
“What is it?” Nero asks. She isn’t telling him something.
She looks uncomfortable, shifting her weight between her feet and looking away. “It’s just…this isn’t exactly the safest place to send someone.”
“You just said earlier that I’ll grow to love this city.”
“I know! But…well, my brother will explain it better than me.” She casts her eyes towards the front of the school, lighting up when she finds who she wants. “There he is. Let’s go.”
She grabs his hand and drags him over to a beat up minivan parked a little ways off the front gate.
A man stands leaning against the car. This must be Kyrie’s brother; his hair is the same shade of brown as hers, slicked back into perfection. He’s wearing an ironed button-up shirt, pressed pants, and has a horrible goatee marring his face.
“Credo,” Kyrie says, smiling brightly up at him. But Credo barely looks at her, instead looking Nero up and down with suspicion. Nero tenses up reflexively, eyeing him back.
Kyrie steps in between them, slightly shielding Nero from view. “Come on, don’t be like that. This is my friend, Nero. He’s new here.”
Credo looks down at him like he’s gum at the bottom of his shoe. Nero glares up at him with the same vigor.
“Friend, huh,” Credo says, disbelieving. His voice is deep and smooth, full of contempt.
Kyrie just sighs, some annoyance peeking through her voice. “Why do you treat everyone I introduce you to like this, Credo.” She turns to him, poking a finger at his chest. “Don’t you dare do this again.”
Credo finally looks at her, seeming slightly guilty now. “I just worry for you,” he says.
Kyrie crosses her arms. “Worry about yourself more. I can take care of myself if you would just let me.”
Nero feels like he’s intruding in a private moment. This looks like an argument they’ve had a thousand times over, neither of them budging. He’s starting to understand why Kyrie doesn’t appear to have any other friends now.
The siblings devolve into a whispered heated argument that Nero chooses not to overhear, but afterwards Credo straightens up again and looks at Nero with a little less disgust, so Kyrie’s words must’ve counted for something.
“Apologies for earlier. My name is Credo,” he says, bringing out a hand. Nero doesn’t shake it, and Credo drops it without much fanfare. “Kyrie says you have some questions about the city?”
But Nero doesn’t exactly want to ask this guy anything. “Not really,” he lies, putting his hands in his pockets.
Credo eyebrows furrow, and Kyrie frowns, but they don’t push him. Good. “Well,” Credo says. “Just be careful out there. The city can be dangerous, especially at night.” He’s giving this advice absentmindedly, like he’s just going through the motions.
“Yeah, yeah,” Nero says. “See you later, Kyrie.”
He waves goodbye to Kyrie, and completely ignores Credo because fuck that guy. He quickly makes his way down the street before either of them can stop him. His social battery for the day is drained. Hopefully he won’t have to deal with this Credo guy again.
He’ll just have to get his answers elsewhere. Luca is as good a place as any to start.
He just has to catch him in an actual conversation first.
Nero enters the apartment utterly exhausted, and throws his bag onto the ground near the door. He’ll move it to his room later. Luca is once again in front of the TV, lounging with a can of beer.
It’s now or never. “Hey,” Nero starts. “What’s up with this city?”
Luca gives him a side-eye, but doesn’t tell him to shut up. He mutes the TV and turns to look at him. “You’re gonna have to be more specific.”
Wow, ok. He’s actually doing this. “The people here seem scared. Is there something I should know about?”
Luca is quiet for a few seconds. He seems tired, Nero realizes suddenly. There are bags under his eyes to match Nero’s own, and the wrinkles in his forehead look deep.
Luca sighs. “Look, just don’t go out at night and don’t fall into the wrong crowd, and you’ll be fine.” He turns back to the TV. “Now stop bothering me,” he says, with an air of finality.
Nero stares at Luca for a few seconds. He just can’t understand the guy. One second he seems like he cares, and the next he’s ignoring his existence. Nero huffs and goes to his room. He already has a shit ton of homework to catch up on because of transferring in the middle of the school year, so might as well get started on that.
The next few weeks follow the same pattern. Luca is off to work before dawn, Nero goes to school and meets with Kyrie, he ignores Credo, he goes home, Luca ignores him, rinse and repeat. If it weren’t for Kyrie’s company, he would go crazy with boredom.
Credo, for his part, has been making more of an effort to be nice to him, whatever that entails. He’s a bit of a defrosting ice prince, and Nero suspects he’s even started to warm up to him little by little. The feeling isn’t mutual.
Once, Credo even offered to give him a ride home. “It’s safer this way,” he had said. “Gangs roam the city, and they like going after people that are alone.”
Nero had rolled his eyes and refused. Kyrie laid an arm on his shoulder and told him to consider it, but Nero hadn't given it much thought since.
That is, until he started being followed.
Nero glances behind him as he walks the streets after school, and sees a flash of red and white at the corner of his vision ducking into a nearby alley. It could be a trick of the light, but Nero’s always been in tune with this sort of thing, and he knows someone’s been following him for a while now.
He decides that enough is enough, and goes into the same alley he saw his stalker go in. Of course, no one is down there by the time he finally turns the corner, like every other time Nero tries to catch them.
Nero goes down it anyway, double checking behind the dumpsters and planks of wood to make sure they’re really gone. However, that turns out to be a mistake.
“Well, well. Look who we have here. Are you lost, little boy?”
Nero turns around and sees the entrance of the alley blocked by two burly guys, both in leather jackets. A gang, Nero thinks, just like Credo warned him about. Ah, shit.
But Nero isn’t one to be cowed, especially by a bunch of thugs. “Get out of my way. I’m leaving.”
The guy in front laughs. His voice is rough and mocking. “How about showing us some cash first, huh?”
They step closer to him. Nero sees one of them slip a hand into a pocket, most likely gripping a weapon hidden from view. He suspects that they would hurt him even if they got the money.
Nero turns to run the other direction, but a third guy had come in from over the fence at the end of the alley. He’s trapped.
The fight is ugly.
Nero ducks and weaves through the blows, giving rough hits of his own. He gets struck a few times, and even nicked by a hidden knife at his arm, but he manages to hold his own for the most part.
But it’s still three against one, and while Nero is a good fighter, these thugs are used to shaking people down and they have a weapon to boot. Soon, he’s being held against a wall by two of them, who deal with his thrashing with grunts and growls.
The third one stands in front of him, glaring. He wipes blood from under his nose, where Nero had punched him earlier. “You’re going to pay for that, you little shit.”
Nero spits in his face, because he’s never had a lick of self-preservation, and gets slapped in the face for it. It stings, especially when the guy’s ring catches on his cheek, leaving a sharp cut.
They guy goes to grab at Nero’s pockets, and Nero thinks fast. He drops his whole body weight suddenly, and the two guys scramble to hold him up in confusion. He takes the chance to knee the thug in front of him in the crotch and grab the knife in his other hand, slipping under their arms and flipping it towards them.
There. That should even the playing field a little bit. A wicked smile grows on Nero’s face.
“Oi!” A deep voice calls out from the entrance of the alley. “What’s going on down there?”
The thugs pale, looking at the person behind Nero. “Shit, it’s Dante,” one of them says, and they all scramble over the fence at the end of the alley. It’s almost comedic, how scared they got at the sight of this man.
Nero turns to find a man in a garish red coat and stark white hair. Wait. White hair. Not the grey of aging, or the bleached white of dye, but a natural pure white just like his own. Nero gapes at him.
The man—Dante—saunters down the alley towards him. Even though his body language is casual, his eyes are cold and suspicious. Nero belatedly realizes that he’s still holding the knife, which probably doesn’t look good.
Dante pulls out his wallet to show a badge. “I’m a detective. You and I are gonna have a talk, so how about you put the knife away, kid.”
Fuck.