For The Sword

Nero couldn’t bring himself to return home straight away; he had too much to think about. It didn’t bother him that he found the two men attractive, or that they seemed to share an intimacy that didn’t really belong in a family situation, but the two were so much older than he was, would they see him as an equal, or would he forever be just a kid to them? Not to mention the fact that he was still meant to be seeing Kyrie.

Kyrie…Nero flopped back on the roof he was sat on, only a few hundred meters from Dante’s place. He stared up at the clear night sky, stars sparkling brightly, moon illuminating the earth below with its eerie glow. An image of the girl he was in love with seemed to flash across the face of the moon and Nero frowned; they’d been seeing each other, officially, for the past two years. Everything had seemed to be fine until recently, when Kyrie had decided that she wanted to take their relationship one step further. They’d had sex. It wasn’t great sex, as it was a first for both of them; Kyrie was still a virgin, and Nero had only ever done it with one person before, and that person had been male.

After that night, she had become distant, almost cold. He couldn’t get close to her, she just didn’t want to be touched by him, and had even taken up residence in a separate room. Nero had no idea what he’d done wrong, and he was too proud to ask, but it was more than likely his fault he reasoned.

She had started going out alone a lot more after that. Where before they would go everywhere together, almost joined at the hip some would say, she did everything she could to spend as little time as possible with him. It hurt, and he did still love her, but he accepted that their relationship was coming to an end; he was just waiting for her to tell him that it was over.

Sitting up, Nero rubbed at his eyes, willing away the tears he knew were starting to gather there. What hurt most, he mused, more than anything else was that she had never told him that she loved him. He had told her, many times, but she would just smile, kiss him and leave it at that. And he did love her, he really did, he just didn’t know whether he was IN love with her any more. He suspected that she had found herself a new lover anyway; the smell of aftershave on her clothing and a large bouquet of roses in the living room were proof enough for him.

It was beginning to get light; a soft orange glow had appeared on the horizon. Had he been feeling more up beat, Nero might have stayed to watch the sun rise, as it was he was tired and wanted his bed. He hadn’t meant to stay out all night, but doubted that anyone would care what time he got to bed.

It didn’t take him long to make his way home; Nero was tired, and he knew that the longer he stayed out the worse it would get. He managed the hour and a half trip in less than an hour, his breathing slightly laboured by the time he reached his front door.

Entering his small house, he could see Kyrie sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. At first Nero believed her to be asleep, but as he drew closer she sat up, and he could see the tear tracks down her pretty face. His heart wrenched at the sight, and he made to embrace her, only to be pushed away. She motioned for him to sit in the chair opposite her, so he did, never taking his eyes off her, concern written all over his features.

“Nero…you’ll find out sooner or later anyway, so I’ll tell you now; I’ve been seeing someone else. I’m pregnant. It’s his baby.” She steepled her fingers in front of her face, before letting her delicate hands drop to the table, obviously slightly nervous.

“Kyrie, I…” Nero didn’t get chance to finish before Kyrie cut him off, refusing to make eye contact in much the same way as he had earlier, though for entirely different reasons.

“Please, Nero, let me finish. I’ve been meaning to finish with you for some time now, but I just couldn’t do it. Please understand, I just couldn’t break your heart, not like that!” She looked at him then, fresh tears in her eyes, and his heart did break; he was the reason she was upset, why she was crying. “You’re like a brother to me…you ARE a brother to me, the only one I have left. That’s why I…after we…” She closed her eyes, brown hair covering her face as she struggled to compose herself.

“Why you were so cold after we had sex, you mean?” Nero finished quietly. Kyrie merely nodded, ashamed. Neither looked at the other, soft sniffling sounds the only break in the painful silence.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I should have said earlier, but I thought that maybe one day I could love you in the way that you love me. But it looks like I’ve just ended up hurting you.” She couldn’t control it then, the tears streaming down her face. Leaning in, Nero took both of her hands in his, clasping them tightly. Their eyes met, hers wet with tears, his threatening to spill over.

“Kyrie…it’s alright, I forgive you.” He stood then, releasing her hands and moving to leave the kitchen. In the doorway he stopped, without turning, not wanting his now ex-girlfriend to see the agonised tears rolling down his face. “I’ll pack my things. You’ll want the spare room for the baby.”

“I…thank you, Nero…you’re still my brother. You always will be, and I love you.” She smiled at his retreating back, wiping the tears from her face, happy that he seemed to take it so well.

Nero all but ran up to his room, collapsing on the double bed they had shared up until five months ago, sobbing quietly into the comforter. He couldn’t believe how much it hurt, the truth spilling from her mouth and worming around in his gut, making its way up to his heart and devouring it. He knew it was for the best; they were living a lie, and neither one was happy. She had a new lover now, and a baby on the way, he needed to stay strong for her.

Packing wasn’t difficult; Nero didn’t own many possessions, he didn’t need to, he was happy with his gun, his sword and his music. He managed to fit everything he thought he would need in a reasonable sized duffle bag and was ready to go by noon. He still hadn’t slept, and his eyes were red and sore from crying. Exhaustion rolled over him in waves, but he couldn’t sleep, not yet. Not here. He needed to leave, and soon.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Nero cradled Yamato in his arms. No doubt he’d have to give the sword back, now that Vergil had returned. It was strange, since the incident at the lab he’d felt nothing from it, the surge of power he was so used to feeling whenever he handled the blade was just gone.

He had every intention of leaving without seeing Kyrie; he didn’t want to see her upset again, as she inevitably would be. Unfortunately for Nero, it was not to be, as the girl was waiting in the kitchen for him, a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of her. She stood to embrace him, not speaking for fear of the tears returning. He held her, just held her, for the longest time not wanting to let go. This would be the last time they would stand like this, together. Whether siblings or lovers, their feelings for each other had been irreparably changed.

Their embrace ended too soon, and he was gone, the door shutting behind him with a dull click. The sound seemed to make everything just seem so much more final. Nero couldn’t help it; the misery seemed to consume his very soul. He could feel the tears begin to trickle down his face again, but did nothing to stop them; he didn’t care who saw him or what they thought. The streets were quiet around where he lived – or used to live at least. It wasn’t a busy part of town, and there were no shops to draw people out. Those who did take to the street mostly kept to themselves, the odd one or two glancing at the teen before hurrying off. Nobody around there seemed to want to help anyone else if they could keep out of it.

Nero noticed none of this. The streets could have been completely packed and he wouldn’t have cared any more than he did at that point. He didn’t even take note of where he was going, simply walking wherever his feet took him. His tears eventually dried up, but the tracks down his cheeks, slumped shoulders and dejected look remained.

He barely took heed as the light of day turned to night, didn’t notice that he was in a bad part of town, or the drunks that were beginning to line the streets. Prostitutes beckoned him from street corners and dealers tried to coax him into alleyways. One man even tried to persuade him to join his brothel, but Nero saw none of this. He didn’t see the tall, well-built drunk stagger up to him, or the fist that flew at his face. He registered a jolt of pain as it impacted with his jaw, throwing him backwards into a wall. Dead eyes stared up at the bigger man, not moving, not even flinching as a group of them started on him, kicking at his body, his legs, his head.

The pain actually felt good, almost like a physical rendition of the agony he was feeling inside. He deserved it, Nero finally decided, for hurting Kyrie so badly. He hurt everyone he came into contact with, and of the two people who had ever cared for him, one of them was dead. It was best that this had happened now before the same thing happened to Kyrie.

A series of gunshots rang out across the street and the men scattered, leaving Nero bloody and bruised, aching all over. He was pretty sure that a couple of his ribs were broken from the sharp pains he was rewarded with for every breath he took.

“Shit, kid, what the hell you doing out here?” Dante’s familiar voice rang out, piercing through Nero’s self-destructive haze. Had he been thinking straight he would have been mortified at Dante seeing him like this, but in his current state of mind the older man was exactly who he wanted to see.

Kneeling down to check the extent of the injuries that might as well have been self-inflicted, Dante didn’t expect the boy to wrap his arms around his neck, pulling the demon hunter close and burying his head in the others strong neck. Nor did he expect the strangled, heart-broken sobs that he could hear coming from his young friend.

“C’mon kid, hey!” Reflexively Dante wrapped his arms around the boy, pulling him up from the hard ground. “You listening to me, Nero?” There was no response, so Dante lifted the boy with ease, carrying him somewhat awkwardly back to Devil May Cry, the only place Dante called home. After a couple of comments, another group of drunks trying to pick a fight and a woman offering to pay good money for Nero, Dante decided to take to the rooftops with his young charge.

It was fortunate for Nero that Dante didn’t take his bike out when he was going drinking; he’d lost it a few too many times and didn’t want to risk it happening again. Unfortunately though, it took twice as long for them to get back home. Nero didn’t seem to mind though; his dry sobs had long since stopped and he’d fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep, not bothered in the slightest by the jostling he was getting.

-----

Vergil looked up from his place on the couch when Dante practically kicked the door down. He didn’t even flinch when it flew back and hit the wall with a loud crunch, taking out some of the plaster work as it did. He did, however, raise an eyebrow at the sight of the bedraggled, bloody mess in Dante’s arms.

“Do I even need to ask?” He stated quietly, a slight hint of jealousy evident in his voice.

“You can ask the kid when he wakes up, and no, it’s not what you’re thinking. Where’s Trish?” Dante was hardly in the mood to banter with his brother, but did notice the twin’s face relax at that.

“She’s gone home. Did you expect her to wait here for you to get back?” There was that sarcastic humour again. Dante felt like punching his brother, and probably would have done if his hands hadn’t been full of Nero. He’d been back one day and he was already getting under Dante’s skin.

“Fuck you, Verge. The kid needs patching up, and I sure as hell don’t know how to do it.” Dante glared at his brother, who simply rolled his eyes in exasperation before heading to the kitchen where he had seen a first aid kit earlier.

“Maybe later. I’ll do it; you know I used to do the same for you when we were younger, or had you forgotten?” Truth be told, Dante had forgotten, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

“Is that a promise?” Dante smirked, raising one of his eyebrows in a motion so similar to his brothers it was almost unnerving.

“Is what a promise, Dante?” Vergil responded smoothly, returning with the large box that contained the first aid kit and a bowl of clean water. Unpacking several bandages, disinfectant and healing salve, along with some painkillers for later, he set to work putting Nero back together. It didn’t take long, and soon the boy was a mess of bandages and plasters. Vergil hadn’t been able to get at all of the wounds, so he’d had to undress the younger male, secretly admiring the boy’s body as he did.

“He’s the one I was inside, wasn’t he?” Vergil finally asked, causing Dante to snort hot coffee out of his nose and choke on the steaming liquid simultaneously. “Not like that! You can be such a pervert at times.” Vergil flushed, and Dante would have enjoyed the sight had he not been choking on his coffee still.

Vergil turned away from Dante, shaking his head at his brother. He looked over the young man sat on the sofa, checking for any wounds he might have missed. The other was really quite handsome, he decided. It was then that Vergil realised that he didn’t even know the boy’s name! That was something he would have to rectify.

Noting that Dante was still choking slightly behind him, Vergil carried the now bloodied and dirty water back into the kitchen, tipping it down the sink and running some fresh water. As an after thought, he grabbed a glass and filled that too, carrying both back and handing the glass to his brother. Dante nodded his thanks before gulping the lot down.

Vergil began to dab at the tear tracks on Nero’s cheeks, moving to tenderly bathe his puffy, swollen eyes. A low groan erupted from his throat, which had remained miraculously unscathed. He pushed into the wonderfully cool sensation on his face, loving how it felt against his sweaty, abused skin.

Partially opening his eyes, Nero could only just make out Vergil’s face floating not too far from his own. Groaning in pain he allowed his eyes to slide shut once more, wishing he could fall into oblivion and never come back.

“Shit, kid, you gave us quite a scare. Welcome back to the land of the living.” Dante leaned in, studying Nero’s face, much as he had done two nights previous. It didn’t have the desired effect though, as those blue eyes refused to open again. “I think you owe us an explanation, right Verge?” Getting no response from his brother or the boy, Dante began to grow impatient, as he was known to do. “Kid, hey!” He reached out to tap Nero on the cheek, but a black-clad arm stopped him before he could.

“Leave it, Dante. The boy needs rest, he’s clearly exhausted, we’ll get our answers tomorrow. For now, help me get him upstairs to bed.” Vergil’s tone left no room for argument. Lifting Nero from his seat, he wrapped one limp arm over his broad shoulders and headed towards the stairs, not bothering to wait for his twin.

“Hey, he’s not having my bed!” Dante sulked, not moving from his spot by the desk, his bottom lip sticking out in what would have been a cute pout if it weren’t on the face of a grown man.

“He can have my bed, then.” Vergil responded, trying to figure out how he was going to get the boy upstairs by himself without jostling his wounds too much, as Dante was obviously not going to help.

“Where are you gonna sleep then?” Dante asked, pushing off from his desk and heading over to help his brother, happier now that he knew he would not have to give up his bed.

“With you. Obviously.” He didn’t even bother looking at his brother, who easily plucked Nero from his grasp and lifted him in much the same manner as he’d used to carry him home. Nero’s arms once again wrapped around Dante’s shoulders as he began the ascent.

It took a moment for Vergil’s last statement to register in Dante’s alcohol-clouded mind. He couldn’t help the large grin the spread across his face, effectively splitting his face in two. Tonight was going to be fun, better than a night on the tiles anyway, he thought.