Galaxies
Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and its characters = © Capcom. I don't make any profit from this story.
Unless otherwise stated, the lyrics that appear in this story are written by me, specifically for this fic and are story-relevant.
Main pairings: Vergil x Lady, implied Nero x Kyrie, implied Dante x Trish, implied Dante x Nevan, eventual Dante x Nero
Warnings in general: Contains uncomfortable topics like anorexia and bulimia, abuse, domestic violence, depression, self harm, drug abuse and sex.
Warnings for this chapter: language mostly. Also implied Dante x Kyrie. Yes, Dante x Kyrie.
A/N: This is a human AU so Nero doesn't have his bringer here.
Track #01: Conceptions/Misconceptions
Devil May Cry. A name that depicted success, a name that sounded promising.
Vergil Sparda was aware of that, as were the majority of the other members of their band: Mary, the bassist – or Lady as she preferred to be called – and Trish, the lead guitarist. All of them knew their key to success was their talent, their inclination of breaking genre boundaries and of course, their looks.
Vergil didn't try to deceive himself – he knew that their looks were one of the main reasons record labels were so interested in them. Having talent was one thing but nowadays that wasn't enough. People want something nice to look at and fame was about a the perfect mix of talent, uniqueness and commercialization.
And getting the attention of an audience wasn't easy. Lady, for example, called it a sacrifice. "I'm objectifying myself", she said once. "Both Trish and I are objectifying ourselves for music. Short skirts, fishnet stockings, leather and lots of bare skin – it's ridiculous. But sex sells... unfortunately."
Dante – Vergil's younger twin brother and the lead singer of Devil May Cry – laughed once during one of Lady's flashes of anger and received a black eye for that. "I'M A WOMAN, NOT A THING, THAT'S NOT FUCKING FUNNY, YOU INSENSITIVE JERK!"
Still, she would always change into one of her short pleated mini-skirts and a ripped t-shirt for their gigs, pulling off a punk-like look, ignoring the hungry stares and wolf whistles of the men in the crowd. Trish always said they were artists, that Lady should view her outfits as costumes. Lady never ceased to work hard for the band's success – both girls worked their asses off, determined to reach their goal – rocking the big concert halls, maybe making a change in the world with their brutally honest lyrics, getting people to listen and think.
And of course, there was Dante, the singer and second guitarist of Devil May Cry, who didn't seem to be aware of all these facts and goals. While all of the other members of the band were always disciplined, Dante was ruthless, selfish and had no morals.
Vergil let out an exasperated sigh while he assembled his drums. Dante … He didn't even know how lucky they were that their parents allowed them to sign a contract with a record label. Their condition was that both of them graduated and that Vergil would start studying – which he was going to do when the semester started in fall. Distance learning on the road, taking the first steps to "plan b", as it was called. Vergil knew it would be exhausting but he didn't want to give up music, convinced that the band would make it far. Their parents were convinced otherwise though, thought that Dante and Vergil couldn't make music for a living and made sure Vergil followed in his father's footsteps and became a lawyer.
Again, Vergil sighed quietly. Occupation: lawyer. Well, rock star every now and then. This had to be a joke. But it had been their parents' condition – otherwise neither him, nor Dante would have been able to follow their dream.
Devil May Cry was a special and extraordinary band. They didn't really stick to one thing and just did what they felt like, experimented a lot with their instruments, rhythms and techniques but that strangeness had peaked the interest of many record labels. They were a ragtag group – Vergil himself, for example was always quiet, rarely spoke a word. But when he was on stage, he let go of everything, hitting the drums with crude force. He forgot of the world surrounding him, forgot about the elegance he usually moved with, lost himself in the music.
Then, there was Trish. None of them knew much about her, in fact. She was an elusive beauty, always calm and elegant. Trish wore black for all their shows but her look had nothing of the gothic style – Trish was classy, simple as that. When she was on stage though, she turned into a wild animal, her long blonde hair flying around while she banged her head to the beat and her fingers slid over the neck of the guitar as she played one sequence of notes after another.
Lady was the complete opposite of both Vergil and Trish. Normally, Lady was a hot-blooded girl that couldn't sit still. The twins knew her for about ten years by now and knew that Lady had had a tough life and came from a complicated family. She had many scars that covered her body but she wasn't ashamed about them, wearing them like a warrior. Vergil knew that the scar on the bridge of her nose had been inflicted by her own father. He knew that she had been abused but they didn't talk about it much, partly because Lady didn't want to talk about it and partly because Vergil didn't even know what to say.
Lady used the music to deal with what happened to her, occasionally joining Dante with her vocals. When she played her bass, she was eerily calm, silently picking the strings. When she sang, her voice was light, often combined with harsh screams or growls from Dante. They worked with those contrasts a lot. And while Vergil and Trish used music to vent their frustration, Lady used it to cope with things.
And Dante … well, he was their stage hog. Dante lived for the spotlight, needed the praise and applause of the audience like air and constantly tried to find new ways to make the audience scream. His main feat was his voice – Dante had a strong and clear singing voice and was able to switch from powerful and clean singing to deep, rumbling growls or grunts and high-pitched, shrieking screams. He also played the rhythm guitar – chords to give Trish a base for her melodies.
But Dante wasn't used to work for success. Everything just fell into his lap. He didn't think that his unique voice or singing abilities were a gift or that the fact they just acquired a label was a huge success. No, he took it for granted. He took everything in life for granted.
Vergil remembered how many sleepless nights both of them had spent in Dante's room where he tried to drum fact after fact into his brother's thick skull so that Dante wouldn't fail his finals. In the end, he made it and graduated – just barely, but he made it.
Did Vergil receive a "thank you" for that? No, of course he didn't. Dante was convinced he passed because he was supposed to pass, not because his older brother had worked his ass off so that both of them could live their dream after school. It made Vergil furious how Dante could do whatever he wanted and always got away with it without having to face the consequences. In the end, Vergil was the one who was left to clean up the mess Dante made, was the one who had to stand tall for what Dante did and despite everything always found himself defending his younger brother even though he knew Dante didn't deserve it.
All the gigs they played had been in small venues – tonight wasn't an exception – but their label promised them that they would gain fame soon. But that plan was teetering on a knife's edge at the moment – Dante was missing and they had to play in about thirty minutes.
They weren't even famous yet but Dante acted as if he was a rock star. Since they started making music seriously, the number of girls Dante took backstage had increased more and more. He was an arrogant prick, thinking he could take everything just because he had musical talent.
Vergil sighed once more, adjusting the ride cymbal before sinking down onto the small stool. Lady was currently testing the sound – both her and Dante's microphones and monitors, huffing impatiently every minute. "Where's that asshole?", she mumbled, unfortunately amplified by the two mics in front of her, making Vergil snigger quietly when the technician glared at Lady.
Trish entered the stage from the backstage area, shaking her head in anger. "I just called him", she said, referring to Dante. "He says he'll be there in twenty."
"Great", Vergil commented, rolling his eyes. Dante would arrive too late, just like fucking always.
Usually, it wasn't even that much of a problem – there was no rock band in the world that started their shows on time. Tonight was special though. The whole event was organized by their label, meant to introduce their newest catch to the community, to see whether they were really worth investing in or not. And now, their lead singer was missing. Fucking great.
A sharp snap cut off Vergil's train of thoughts. There went his drum sticks.
"Everything okay?", Trish asked him with raised brows, staring at his hands where he twirled the broken pieces of wood around. It was rare that Vergil showed any emotion, let alone something as strong as anger.
"Yes", was Vergil's cold answer.
"You're nervous."
"I'm not." Damn, she was right. He was nervous. Where was Dante? He knew exactly how important tonight was!
Vergil got up from the drum stool, fetching a new pair of sticks. This was getting ridiculous. Dante knew no boundaries. Although Vergil knew he had no right to order his brother around, he knew he had to do something before the whole situation would escalate. If Dante was already acting this way now, he didn't want to know how things would turn out once they actually gained some fame.
Trish followed Vergil backstage, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, everything's gonna be alright."
Vergil nodded curtly, not convincing either of them. Both of them knew this couldn't continue like that. Trish left just as discreetly as she came – always the elusive beauty. Vergil chuckled lowly. For some reason, she reminded him a little of his mother – a strange thought, considering the way Trish's behavior changed completely once she was playing her guitar. Must be the long blonde hair and her calm nature. And the fact that she was the eldest of them with twenty three years.
Vergil remembered the casting they had set up to find their guitarist about six years ago – they were close to giving up and blowing the whole thing off when Trish had entered the room.
Dante had stared at her hungrily, captivated by her beauty, not really paying attention to the black guitar strapped to her back and the additional small instrument case she was carrying with her.
The guitar looked rather unimpressive, the design simple and plain, void of any wings or decorations.
Trish didn't even introduce herself, simply plugging her guitar in and immediately starting to play a mind-numbing solo. Her fingers were a blur on the neck of the instrument and all of them had stared at her in awe, mouth agape. Even Dante had lacked words. When she was finished, she simply turned a little on the tuning heads, saying cockily: "Name's Trish, so am I in?"
All of them had nodded in response, welcoming her in the band. Lady had asked her about the mysterious instrument case then and Trish had opened it a little reluctantly, revealing a five-stringed violin. At least it had a high resemblance to a violin: the design was minimalistic, didn't have the classical shape. The curves a normal violin had were cut out, making the instrument look quite flat and futuristic.
"What's that?"
"An electric violin slash viola hybrid", Trish had answered, stunning them all. She showed them how she played the instrument then – thanks to the amp and her sound effect pedal, she was able to either create a classical sound or to distort it so much that it sounded like a very high electric guitar. Then, she told them she started her musical career with playing the violin, and every now and then, she would swap her beloved guitar with her "violan", as she called it. It was a highlight in their music. Not every band was able to brag about having such a unique instrument in their line up.
Now that they had all their members, they started writing songs and practicing. Vergil and Lady wrote lyrics – they mostly dealt with society problems, ethical dilemmas, and every now and then also with personal experiences. Sometimes though, Dante and Vergil would fight over the lyrics.
"Stop writing complicated shit like that!", Dante always demanded, "I can't even pronounce half of the words, let alone sing them. I mean – 'epiphenomenalism'? Seriously, Verge?!"
Most of the times, Vergil found himself giving in and changing whatever he wrote – Trish and Dante had to set up the instrumentation after the lyrics, after all.
One year passed and they had had several gigs in small venues. It was quite hard to even get gigs in bars in the first place since both Dante and Vergil had only been seventeen years old at that point and none of them could recall by now how exactly they even managed to get that far. But their strategy worked and so, after another couple of years that had passed in a blur in which they were constantly practicing, setting up new songs, recording demos, entering local contests, calling and writing to record labels… they actually signed a contract.
Vergil was able to cherish all of this, loved performing, loved making music. Those were the moments he lived for – even if he would never admit it out loud.
The curtain next to him started to shake, someone seemed to search for a way to get backstage. Vergil raised a brow, reaching out to hold the curtain aside when Dante stumbled inside, breathing hard as if he just ran a mile. Their eyes met and Dante chewed on his lip nervously. "I'm not too late."
Vergil rolled his eyes, returning to his usual cold attitude. "Whatever. Get ready."
In the far end of the club, in a dark corner that shielded from prying eyes, a couple was seated. She was straddling his lap and they were entwined in each other, their lips meeting hungrily. Her delicate fingers tugged on his fair strands, directing the kiss. He was completely enraptured by her, amazed that she was so adventurous. Her exterior looked so innocent and pure – she was dressed in a short white blouse and a pair of ripped jeans shorts, her chestnut colored hair tied into a ponytail. Her brown eyes were closed now, her long (and obviously fake) eyelashes pressed against her cheeks that were adorned with a rosy blush.
A loud clatter made them break apart in the next moment.
"Seriously, Kyrie?", a disgruntled voice asked. "I'm away for five minutes and you already found someone to hook up with?" Nero took a seat next to Kyrie and she slipped out of the lap of the guy she just made out with … who took this as his cue to get going. Kyrie didn't call him back.
"Are you mad?", she asked cockily and reached out for the drinks Nero just bought.
"This is supposed to be our evening", Nero said with a huff, "You promised. Seriously, what's wrong with you?"
He didn't even want to be here. Kyrie dragged him into clubs on a regular basis where he was supposed to act like her supervisor. Nero was getting tired of that game but didn't know what to do and was aware that Kyrie was slowly spiraling down the road to rock bottom. Kyrie hadn't always been this way... She was only acting like this on the weekends. During the week, she was a modest girl – she never missed a day of school, went to church on Sundays and sang in the choir. On the weekends though, she turned into some kind of horny animal that devoured every man in her reach. Somehow, Nero felt reminded of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide. It was actually kind of scary to see his childhood friend slowly mutate into a slut. But he didn't know how to help her.
Kyrie was living with her older brother Credo in a small apartment. Their parents died several years ago. Car accident. Maybe this was the reason why Kyrie had broken down. Credo did his best to support her – he had two jobs to provide her a normal life. But he knew what she was doing on her weekends and tried his hardest to lead her the right way. Both Nero and Credo ran out of ideas though.
"I'm sorry, Nero", Kyrie said soothingly and patted his hand. "This was the last time, I swear."
Nero rolled his eyes. He heard that line before, several times in fact. It made him angry, sad, and – most of all – helpless.
Kyrie made a face then, frowning at the glass. "That's coke."
"Yup."
"Where's the booze? I wanted coke with rum."
"We're underage", Nero reminded her.
"Moralizer."
"Says the girl who sings at the church."
"Only during the week, Nero."
"Am I talking to your alter ego now?"
A staring match began and they scowled at each other, both of their glares ice cold. Kyrie was the first one to retreat with a silent scoff, setting her glass back down and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse. She lit one of them up, taking a long drag, exhaling the smoke with a huff. Kyrie didn't offer Nero one – she knew he disapproved of her smoking, be it cigarettes or pot. It was like having two older brothers who watched after her – both Credo and Nero always felt the need to protect her. But she was getting tired of being pressed into the role of the innocent girl. She was eighteen years old, for fuck's sake. She wasn't innocent anymore and it was time for everyone around her to realize that.
They sat there in silence for a while, the venue getting more crowded by the minute. It was a run-down club, located in one of the more obscure corners of the city Fortuna. While the very center of the city was pure and clean with white buildings with ominous facades, the rest looked rather beaten. The closer you got to the outskirts of the city, the more decaying and crumbling buildings you came across.
In this club, the dark walls were plastered with posters of bands that had played there. A big "no smoking" sign was attached to a wall but everyone ignored it anyway. There was a small bar on the far right side of the venue, next to it the control panel for the stage. Currently, the staff was busy with getting the show started.
Kyrie stubbed out her cigarette on the ash tray of the table. "Come on Nero, let's get closer to the stage. They'll start playing soon."
Nero hummed in response and let himself be tagged along, ignoring the feeling nagging in his stomach that chided him for letting Kyrie always get her way.
Devil May Cry. He didn't even know that band, was here because Kyrie dragged him there. She said they were playing something between rock and metal – music she usually didn't listen to herself. Nero was still skeptical and wondered why the gig was starting so late and why there was no support band.
The band had just stepped on stage. Nero heard Kyrie gasp beside him. "God, he's hot." She pointed at the front singer. Again, Nero rolled his eyes. "Poser", he huffed disapprovingly, regarding the singer with raised brows.
He wore pair of loose brown leather pants that were tucked into black combat boots and a long, red leather coat with silver studs on the left side. Currently, he was busy with plugging in his guitar – a purple Flying V with sharp edges. It seemed to be custom-made, the purple wood lined with silver parts that shimmered in the light coming from the spotlights above the stage. The neck of the guitar was silver as well, making it look as if it was made out of metal while the purple parts were skillfully carved, giving the guitar a strangely fantasy-like look – almost reminding Nero of bat wings.
The singer grabbed the microphone in the next second, smirking widely. "Hello everyone", he said in a deep and seductive voice, making Nero's frown deepen. That guy reeked of arrogance. Kyrie meanwhile squirmed in delight. Typical – women always fall for assholes.
"I hope you will enjoy our performance tonight", the singer on stage continued, "I'm Dante and this" – he gestured to the blonde next to him – "is our guitarist Trish."
Trish was dressed in a fitted corset with a deep cleavage and tight black leather pants. She played some chords in response to Dante's introduction, and raised her hand afterwards – her middle and ring finger were placed in her palm, her thumb above them while the other fingers were kept straight.
The devil's horns, Nero recognized. The sign of everything related to rock.
Trish stuck out her tongue and threw her head back, sending her long hair flying.
Dante laughed heartily and continued to introduce the other band members. Now, he was pointing at the brunette woman. "Lady, our bassist."
Lady played a sequence of notes on her bass, much slower than Trish, only her head slightly bobbing to the rhythm. Nero noticed all the scars on her arms and the part of her legs that wasn't covered by clothing, briefly wondering how she got them. Lady's fingers picked the thick strings of the bass, its white lacquered finish shining brightly in the stage light, the dark red pickguard sparkling whenever she shifted.
She stopped playing after some seconds, now showing the same sign as Trish, a small smirk adorning her lips.
"And last but not least, our drummer – and my brother – Vergil", Dante announced and Vergil shot him an annoyed look that Nero interpreted as "don't tell them we're related". They seemed to be twins, both of their features looking the same. But their clothing and hair style were as different as day and night. While Dante's main color was red, Vergil sharply contrasted to it by wearing blue.
Nero grunted in surprise – Vergil looked almost aristocratic, seemed to be misplaced at the drums with his brushed back hair that was bringing out his beautifully sculptured features and his outfit that consisted of a blue silk shirt and leather pants with snake pattern.
Vergil banged against the bass drums a little harder than necessary, twirling the drum sticks in both hands afterwards – completely destroying his aristocratic look with that.
Then, the lights dimmed and it was quiet for a moment. Well, the stage was quiet. The people around Nero and Kyrie were already yelling in excitement.
There was a faint clicking sound – Vergil setting the rhythm with his sticks – and suddenly, the music blasted through the speakers and amplifiers, making Nero feel deaf.
The band started a powerful and fast rhythm, both of the guitars screeching, the bass thumping beneath it while the drums mercilessly banged against everyone's ear drums. Dante stepped to the microphone, opening his mouth to sing.
"Your body is an armor of flesh,
Forged for a reason all of us still struggle to find.
It's yours to keep, to love or hate,
To take care of it or break it,
For the entire time."
He continued to play chords on his guitar while Trish let her fingers run freely over hers. Vergil meanwhile clashed onto the ride cymbal, the loud clatters harmonizing with the wailing of the guitars.
"Learn your lessons,
Pay attention in your full-time informal school called 'life'.
Experiment, try, fail and grow,
Repeat, repeat until you die."
Dante opened his mouth wider, now screaming out the chorus with all his heart:
"Whatever you decide to do is your call,
And just like me you will live for yourself.
Because the main rule of humanity
Seems to be forgetting everyone around you!"
Heavy chords followed that and Nero admitted that he was impressed. They obviously have mastered their instruments and Dante's voice was powerful – he was able to alter between strong, clean singing and distorted growls and screams effortlessly, perfectly fitting into the loose style of the band.
By now, Dante had retreated to deep growls instead of high-pitched screams.
"Don't think about cause and effect,
Ignorance is bliss!
Don't think about tomorrow,
Tomorrow does not exist!"
The people around Nero and Kyrie were screaming and jumping around, hair flying everywhere as everyone banged their heads. Red light was coming off the stage, tinting the scene in its intense glow.
Dante was now singing in his clean voice again, just like the first verse.
"Your mind is like a golden cage,
Have your own opinion
And make sure to keep it in your head!
Your soul will be the only thing left to sell
And your heart will be the first thing
To grow cold as stone!"
Nero noticed that Dante seemed to lose himself in the song. He was not simply reciting the words, he meant what he sang. His face was clenched in concentration, filled with emotion. He was angry, furious even.
Lady now joined Dante on the vocals, her light voice breaking through the sharp chords that both of the guitarists were playing.
"But I refuse to sink,
I refuse to drown."
Dante pitched in again:
"You can hear the cogs roll,
The gears clanking."
And both sang the next line together – Lady in her siren-like voice while Dante deeply rumbled the words out.
"The machine we call society."
Dante retreated to play a sequence of notes together with Trish. They built up tension, playing on different ranges while Lady continued to sing.
"Discouragement is its weapon,
Oppression its addictive drug."
Dante butted into the next line, the dark growls contrasting to Lady's high voice.
"Dependence its golden light we're forced to follow!"
Lady continued singing alone then:
"But our paths end in darkness,
Our paths end in sadness,
'Cause none of us knows how to escape."
The melody took a turn after that, getting a little slower. Nero could feel his heart pound wildly with every thump Lady and Vergil made with the bass and the drums, finding himself responding to the music. The people around him screamed louder, the sound level in the venue and the song now reaching their climax and Dante was screaming in his highest pitch now.
"I am merely a mirror of you,
I am a reflection of what you see in yourself!"
He drew the last word out as long as he could, and the music abruptly stopped, only his screechy voice could be heard for a moment. And all of the sudden, the band retreated to the heavy instrumentation of the beginning.
"We judge people for judging people,
Because judging anyone is wrong!
We mind our own business,
But minding one's business is ignorant!
We're the copy of a copy of a copy,
We've murdered originality!
Does it matter who you are or where you're from
When people will always find a way to label you?"
Dante switched to clean vocals then, repeating the chorus of the song one last time.
"Don't think about cause and effect,
Ignorance is bliss!
Don't think about tomorrow,
Tomorrow does not exist!
Whatever you decide to do is your call,
And just like me you will live for yourself.
Because the main rule of humanity
Seems to be forgetting everyone around you."
The song ended with a wailing scream on the guitar and again, the lights of the stage went out, plunging the audience into darkness for some seconds. People screamed and clapped their hands, begged for more. Nero had meanwhile fallen out of his trance.
Kyrie stared at the stage. "Nero, help me get backstage later", she demanded, making him stare at her wide-eyed. "What?"
"I want Dante and hell knows how long he's going to stay in this town."
"You … you what?" Nero didn't get what she was talking about.
She stared at him with a 'duh'-look on her pretty face. "Isn't it obvious?"
Don't tell me she wants to sleep with him, Nero thought. "You're acting like a groupie", he said with a frown and she laughed in response, ignoring his concern. Just like always.
"I'm not the only one in this room who wants a piece of him", she said and Nero knew it was true. Other girls in the venue were screaming hysterically by now.
"Kyrie, you're crazy", he sighed, "I'm not helping you. This Dante seems like a reckless asshole, he will use you and throw you away."
"Maybe I want to be used", she retorted, staring at the stage where Dante currently was taking off his coat, continuing the gig shirtless. "Hell, look at him. He can use me in any way he wants to."
"You're drooling", Nero said dryly and Kyrie blushed in response, smacking him on the arm.
"Shut up." She stared at Dante again, succeeding in making eye-contact. He eyed her from top to toe, looking quite pleased with what he saw. Both of them smirked widely then.
"I'm so gonna fuck with him."
Was this really the same girl Nero had known for about eighteen years? She wasn't acting like that.
"It's enough, Kyrie", Nero said firmly, cringing on the inside. He sounded like Credo. "I'm going home after the show ends. You can stay but don't drag me into this." It was enough. Nero didn't know where to go from here.
"Sure", she said automatically, not even listening to him. Once again, Nero rolled his eyes.
The concert continued for a while and Nero found himself enjoying Devil May Cry's music even though he was still worried about Kyrie. They've known each other for an eternity. Before Kyrie's parents died, they had been neighbors who saw each other every day. They went to the same school, spent all of their free time together, knew everything about the other.
But Kyrie changed drastically during the last year and none of it was for the better. Nero constantly found himself taking her home either drunk or high. He had to deal with Credo then who would vent his anger on him. Nero didn't blame him, endured Credo shouting at him. He would apologize afterwards anyway. Nero knew Credo was getting desperate because of his sister but just as him he couldn't think about a way to get her out of that phase. Kyrie didn't want to talk about it, always found ways to escape conversations.
But Nero doubted that Kyrie would have any luck with her plans tonight, considering all the other girls there that wanted Dante just as badly. He left the venue after the concert, saying goodbye to her and walked to the bus station with a sinking feeling in his stomach.
How did things turn out like this? And why?
Nero hated to ask himself the same questions over and over again. But still … he couldn't recall when exactly things had changed or what triggered Kyrie's sudden metamorphosis. When she started acting like this, her parents had already been dead for about a year. Was it the shock? The sudden realization that they would never come back?
Nero sighed silently. He was repeating things over and over again, searched for answers he would never get.
By now, he had arrived at home and pulled out his keys from the pocket of his jeans. It was a nice house with a small garden – the house of his foster parents.
James and Diana were good parents – loving, understanding and caring. They loved Nero as if he was their biological son. Still, they didn't like that Nero spent so much time with Kyrie – at least when she started to get Nero into trouble.
Diana constantly reminded Nero that she wanted him to be happy and that she could clearly see that he wasn't. She knew Kyrie pretty well because she had lived close to them some years ago but things have changed. They had grown up and Nero had to think about what he was going to do with his life. And Nero had no clue what to do with it. For some reason, his parents seemed to be convinced that he already had a plan, that he knew what he was going to do when he was done with school – but to Nero, his future was a black hole.
But who could he talk to? Kyrie didn't listen to him, had enough problems on her own. Credo wasn't much of a help either and Nero avoided talking to him whenever possible. He didn't have other close friends. Sure, there were some people he hung out with at school but he kept them at a safe distance, only thought of them as school friends.
Nero slumped onto his bed, not bothering to take off his clothes – which proved to be the right choice as he discovered some minutes later. His cell phone went off and he huffed at the familiar ring tone. Credo.
"She didn't return, right?", Nero greeted him directly. Credo had no other reason to call him – they usually didn't get along, only agreed on things that involved Kyrie.
Credo huffed out a breath – to yell afterwards. "Why did you leave her alone there?!"
"What am I supposed to do, Credo?", Nero asked back, feeling anger bubbling up inside him. "Technically, she's an adult. None of us can tell her what to do, it's her life."
"Don't tell me you can just sit back and watch as she destroys it."
"What am I supposed to do?", Nero asked again, hissing through gritted teeth. "I'm sure she comes home soon."
Credo hung up without another word, making Nero even angrier. Damn him, both of them. As if on cue, his cellphone went off yet again.
"Kyrie?"
A sob came from the other end of the line.
"Kyrie?", Nero asked again, more urgently this time.
"Nero...", she said weakly, "Please come and pick me up."
"He's such an asshole."
Nero bit his tongue at that statement, desperately trying to keep the "I told you so" to himself.
Kyrie was still sobbing on his shoulder, her eyes bloodshot and red.
"What did he do?", Nero asked and gently stroked her hair.
"Was an asshole."
Of course.
Nero sighed, holding Kyrie's hand and waiting for her to calm down. At the moment, they were seated in a bus, close to their destination – Kyrie's apartment complex. Nero's stomach churned. Credo would be waiting there. Great – he was directly walking into a blow-up.
Kyrie composed herself just in time. They got off the bus and she wiped off the make-up that covered her face in bold black streaks.
"I hate that guy", she choked out, making Nero feel suspicious.
"What did he do to you?", he asked, a little afraid of the answer. If Dante had molested Kyrie, he would make sure to show him the consequences.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?", Nero repeated unconvinced, "Why are you crying then?"
"Don't wanna to talk about it." She fumbled with her keys now, trembling lightly from the tears.
Nero decided to let it slip for now – he didn't want to traumatize Kyrie further.
"Will you stay tonight?", she asked then, seeming hopeful.
"No."
"Why not?", she asked with a frown.
Because I really don't want to face Credo now, Nero thought. It was selfish but he was growing tired of having to deal with this drama every single weekend. It was time Kyrie stood up for her own, took responsibility for the things she did.
"My parents will worry", he said instead and turned to leave. "See you tomorrow."
He waved at Kyrie and went back the way he just came, back to the bus stop. He was tired. Tired of Kyrie's games, tired of trying to keep up with her. There had been times where Nero was convinced he was in love with that girl but seeing her now, acting like this, he knew it wouldn't work out between them.
There were the other girls at school, of course. But Nero couldn't imagine himself being with any of them either. They were either drama queens that acted like Kyrie or too shy or simply weird. Maybe his expectations were set too high.
Nero went into the same direction he just came from, running the last few meters to catch the bus that would bring him back to the venue where he had to change into another line to get home. He pulled out his cellphone – it was around 2 AM. Great. And two missed calls from his mother.
He pondered whether he should call her back – it was quite late anyway. His parents knew about Kyrie, knew what Nero is going through to help her out of her dark phase but still... They were afraid that their son would be dragged down by her, too; feared that Nero would choose the same road as Kyrie.
By now, Nero had arrived at the venue again, waiting for the next bus when loud shouting snapped him out of his thoughts. Nero's head turned into the direction of the sound and felt anger well up inside him again.
There he was – Dante. He was laughing and shouting, apparently drunk. The girl he had grabbed around her waist slapped him and teetered away on her high heels, stopping several feet away to pull down her skirt. Dante yelled something at her and she gave him the finger in response, screaming something back that Nero couldn't really make out.
Dante turned around then, facing Nero. A smirk appeared on his face. It was enough to make Nero's anger flare up. What did this disrespecting asshole think? What did he do to Kyrie?
Nero remembered one of the lines Dante had sung just several hours before: "And just like me you will live for yourself. Because the main rule of humanity seems to be forgetting everyone around you."
He hadn't been lying when he sung that he lived for himself. It drove Nero crazy with rage how Dante could still stand there and be proud of his behavior.
"Hey you", Dante called on him suddenly, still smirking cockily, "I've seen you at the gig. That Kyrie girl's been your girlfriend, huh?" He scoffed. "Did you dump her or what? She wanted me to –"
Without a second thought, Nero dashed forward, drop-kicking Dante straight into the face, effectively silencing him. In a flash, both were fighting furiously, the blows getting harder with every passing second. Dante caught Nero's wrist, pinning him to the wall of the venue.
"What, didn't get some from her?", Dante asked mockingly, staring right into Nero's eyes. Both of them were bleeding – Nero's lip was split and Dante had a scratch right beneath his left eye. Nero didn't answer, pushing against Dante, trying to kick him – anything to get the guy off him.
Dante started laughing then. "It's true, isn't it? Heh, you really didn't get –"
Nero broke his grip, kicked him into the stomach and making Dante fall back ungracefully. Then, he grabbed Dante by the collar, slamming him into the wall.
"What did you do to her?", he growled and Dante blinked in surprise before bursting out laughing again.
He's crazy, Nero thought helplessly, Absolutely insane...
In the distance, the other band members of Devil May Cry stood at their tour bus, watching them fight.
"Don't you want to help him?", Trish asked Vergil who shook his head in response.
"No. I'm done helping him", he replied and both of the girls frowned. "See, he finally has to grow up." Tonight had been the last straw for Vergil. He was done with giving out second chances – Dante would never learn otherwise.
A minute later, all of them regretted not stepping into their fight – the police had arrived now and took both boys with them.
Vergil leaped up, running after the police men who now dragged the boys into their car. The officer raised his baton at seeing him stepping closer and Vergil raised his hands in defeat.
"Is there a problem, officer?", he asked innocently, making the police man roll his eyes.
"They're coming with us." He climbed into the car without a second glance, speeding away.
Vergil slapped his forehead. "Fuck."
Lady and Trish stared at him – Vergil never lost his calm demeanor and none of them had ever heard him swear like that.
"Think about how much the bail will cost", Lady whispered quietly and Vergil hit their bus in anger.
"All of our earnings for this evening."
Musicians like them didn't have much income – the life on the road wasn't easy and they were constantly struggling to keep up with the bills: the cost for the studio whenever they recorded songs, their equipment, gas for their bus, merchandise... Dante and Vergil had asked their parents for money in the past but they refused to pay for anything even when their father made good money – Vergil knew that their parents secretly wished they would just give up trying to make music for a living. Fortunately, the twins were stubborn and wanted to prove them wrong, trying even harder to succeed in the music business.
Lady couldn't ask anyone for money – her parents were quite poor and the first thing she did when she turned eighteen was moving out. She could barely afford the rent for the apartment, let alone food and lived from rice for about three months before Vergil found out about her condition and invited her to live with them for some months.
Eva – Dante and Vergil's mother – had been thrilled and nursed Lady back to health, complaining that she was all skin and bones.
Lady and Vergil never discussed that incident though. Although Lady made clear that she was thankful for it, she was still wondering what made Vergil act this way. And Vergil … again just didn't know what to say or how to express how much he actually cared for her.
And Trish … Even though all of them knew her for six years by now, nobody knew anything about her past or her parents. She didn't want to talk about it, never invited them home, never introduced any family members. Maybe she even was an orphan. None of them knew but Trish seemed to be okay with being some kind of outsider.
She was the only one of them who really got along with Dante. It was quite funny, Vergil thought, how their friendship started with Dante trying to get into Trish's pants. By now, they were really close friends who mostly just sat there and played their instruments. They seriously communicated through music – through notes, minor and major scales and chords.
Vergil frowned. He wasn't jealous, was he? Not because of Trish – it was because Dante once again possessed something he would never be able to achieve. Being the drummer of the band, Vergil only gave each of them the frame to work with – this was his only task.
"What now?", Lady asked into the silence.
"We have to get him out of there", Vergil replied.
Just as always, all of them thought.
"So she's not your girlfriend?"
"Will you shut up now?"
They were seated in a small cell and Nero was getting more and more pissed with every passing second. Pissed at Kyrie for whatever she did, at Dante for not shutting up, at himself for always giving in and saying 'yes' to whatever Kyrie wanted and getting into situations like these. Just how did he always end up staying tall for everyone else around him?
"This is all your fault", Nero said bitterly, his shoulders slumping down. If only he had dragged Kyrie back home after the concert, if only he had stayed with her and let Credo shout at him … If only, if only.
"My fault", Dante repeated, his voice empty, without any emotion. Nero looked up curiously. Dante stared at the floor, his face hidden by his long bangs. Now that Nero could see him beneath the harsh artificial light of the lamps in jail, he paid more attention to how Dante actually looked like. His hair was snow white, just like Nero's. Nero had always thought his hair color was unique, had never met anyone with natural white hair. But both Dante and his twin brother had the same hair color as him.
Dante noticed him staring, looking into Nero's eyes again. Dante's eyes were light blue – lighter than Nero's own, almost ice blue. They stared at each other for a moment before looking into different directions abruptly.
Okay … that was weird, Nero thought.
"It's always my fault", Dante said then and Nero's gaze snapped back to him.
Dante looked quite sad, was still staring at the ground. "I don't even want to know what will happen once the others show up here." Nero guessed he meant the other members of Devil May Cry.
Dante sighed. "My brother always blames me for everything, says I'm selfish and an ignorant idiot."
Nero was tempted to agree to that statement but he bit his tongue for a second time this evening, keeping his opinion to himself. He was tired as hell, wished he was in his room, in his bed. Just one moment of peace, was that to much to ask?
Both of them were already told that they were allowed to make a call. Up to now, none of them made one. Nero didn't know what he was supposed to tell his parents – "Mom, Dad, I'm in jail because I got into a fight with the front singer of a rock band, pick me up and pay my bail, okay?"
It would only make matters worse, would show them they had been right about him hanging out with Kyrie.
Dante, on the other hand, was convinced that Vergil would show up – as always. "Seems like we're stuck in here for a while", Dante said and Nero grunted in response.
Then, Dante stepped forward, holding out his hand. Nero just stared at it. "Well, we're in the same boat, aren't we?"
Nero reluctantly shook his hand. "I guess we are."
"You never told me your name." Dante looked at him expectantly and Nero frowned when he realized they were almost the same age, Dante was maybe two or three years older.
"Nero", he finally said and let go of Dante's hand. "You're Dante, right? Not a bad name..."
"Neither is yours."
Nero simply raised a brow at that, not sure how to reply to it. Unsurprisingly, Dante just continued talking. "So, did you like our gig?" He sounded almost hopeful, making Nero want to snigger.
"Yeah, I did", he said truthfully. "You have style."
"Thanks man", Dante said, sounding relieved and let out a breath. "The music business is quite hard, you know."
Nero hummed in response and again, awkward silence lingered between them for a moment.
"People think living on the road is glamorous but believe me – it's not."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, it's hard to live your dream", Dante replied with a smile. "We've only made a small tour up to now, only going to actually hit the road in fall after all the festivals are over. Touring is fun but exhausting – you don't really have a home, you're always surrounded by strangers. Still, it's just … I don't really know how to explain what's so great about it. Just performing, being on stage… it makes up for it, I guess..." He trailed off and Nero found himself frowning again. Why was Dante telling him this?
Dante chuckled quietly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pour my heart out to you. I guess I just … I don't know. I just need some sleep." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
Nero nodded slowly instead of replying. Sleep sounded so nice at the moment …
"You know, usually I don't talk so much", Dante continued, making Nero growl lightly in annoyance.
Then stop talking, dammit. He found Dante weird, didn't know how to characterize him. Several hours ago, he seemed like the typical rock star asshole but now he appeared almost nice. Nero brushed the impression off, deciding that he was having visions because of his lack of sleep.
"You're a good listener."
"Thanks", Nero said sarcastically but Dante didn't seem to notice and just kept on talking.
"It's strange, actually but I think that –"
"You idiot!"
Both Dante's and Nero's gaze snapped to Vergil who had just entered the jail, fuming in rage.
"Dante...", Vergil huffed angrily, pointing at him, eyes blazing with anger. "What the fuck did you think?"
Dante just gaped at his brother. He had never really seen Vergil angry – or emotional. And he had never heard Vergil using swear words. Sure, he used them in their lyrics but it was Dante who screamed them out.
"You knew how important that evening was for us, you fucking knew it!", Vergil continued, "But no, first you arrive late, then you bring a bunch of girls backstage and now, to cap it all off, you managed to get arrested. I'm glad that your bail costs only half of our earnings –"
He was cut off by a tired looking police man that opened the cell and gestured to Dante to get out. Dante left the cell rather reluctantly, not wanting to put up with Vergil.
Nero felt miserable out of a sudden. He still didn't know how he should explain this to his parents … The thought alone made him feel sick. He would disappoint them, show them that Kyrie's crash had also influenced him. Where would that lead to?
Keep calm. Don't have a panic attack now.
Vergil continued to yell at Dante, reminding Nero of Credo. Dante wasn't listening to his brother though, staring at Nero. "My bail costs only half of our earnings?", he interrupted Vergil who huffed like a bull in response.
"Yes, why do you –"
"We should also get Nero out of here – it's my fault he's in there anyway."
Nero stared at him, not understanding what he was saying. Vergil completely lost his composure at that. "You – what? Dante?" It was almost amusing to see him so perplexed.
Dante grabbed the wad of money Vergil had been grasping tightly and waved to the officer. "That should suffice. He's coming with us."
And Nero couldn't believe how lucky he was when the cell door was opened.
"Thanks", he said awkwardly, rubbing his nose. Several minutes ago, he thought Dante was an asshole but now? Damn, this guy was confusing.
"Don't mention it." Dante cautiously looked at Vergil who gave him a cold stare before turning around, leaving the building quickly.
"I guess I gotta get going."
Nero nodded shortly and both of them moved into the direction of the exit.
"I thought the main rule of humanity is to live for yourself?", Nero asked cockily, making Dante chuckle.
"Maybe I had a misconception about that."
They were outside the police station now, the tour bus of Devil May Cry was parked in the distance, Trish standing outside and waving at Dante who turned to leave.
"Dante...", Nero said quietly and he turned around again. "Will we meet again?" Nero didn't really understand himself why he was asking that. He found Dante absolutely weird but still... he was kinda interesting, wasn't he?
Dante simply smiled in response. "Who knows? We'll stay here in Fortuna for a while before we move on to another city. It was nice to meet you, Nero."
With that, he was gone, leaving a confused Nero behind.
