It was snowing. As he walked his breath formed in front of him in little puffs of fog. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets to protect them from the cold wind. Nero shook his head, little tufts of snow falling downward. His silvery white locks of hair were blending with the snow that was falling on his head making it unnoticeable. He rubbed his freezing nose with the sleeve of his coat, and looked at his right hand. He pulled the sleeve down lower to hide the bright, blue Devil Bringer. The teen looked up at the now darkening sky and quickened his pace. He needed to get home before dark, or there was going to be trouble.
He stopped to get some food before continuing on his way home. He held the little bag of Chinese food in his left hand, and shoved his right hand deeper into his pocket. He was surprised he still had enough money to pay for the food, considering there hadn't been any odd jobs in a while, and he no longer had an actual job. He had been kicked out of The Order not long after the death of the Savior and Kyrie's brother, Credo. Kyrie protested, but they wouldn't listen to her. He was still allowed to live in the city of Fortuna, that is so long as he abided by strict rules. He was no longer allowed to have contact with Kyrie (for her safety), and if he was found out after dark anyone who saw him was freely allowed to attack and kill him. Nero knew he had nowhere else to go, so he'd been abiding by these rules for a while.
The only almost unbearable part about it was the fact that he was forced to wear a tracking collar. If he was anywhere near the areas he was ordered not to be near, it would go off alerting all of the soldiers in the area. The collar would also tighten leaving lacerations on the pale skin of his neck. This added to the abuse he faced from other citizens of Fortuna was horrible. He knew well that he could fight back, but that was the problem. He wasn't allowed to. If he was found defending himself against a citizen he could get into a lot of trouble. Just thinking of this made his cuts and bruises all start to ache at the same time, and his hand reached up to the metallic collar he was forced to wear. It was uncomfortable on his neck and the metal of it cold. It quickly reminded him of how dark it was getting, and how he needed to get home.
He made his way back to his small apartment building in one of the less savory areas of Fortuna. He climbed the stairs all the way up to one of the higher floors and made his way to his apartment. He brought the bag up to his mouth and held it between his teeth. He dug around for his key in his pocket and growled when he couldn't find it. He searched his other pocket, and suddenly realized that it was in his back pocket. He pulled it out with little haste and opened the door. It was completely dark, but that didn't bother the teen. He was half demon so his sense of sight was heightened allowing him to see well enough in the dark. He took the bag out of his mouth and threw his key on the counter. He flipped the switch to turn the light on and set the bag's warm contents on the counter.
He shrugged his coat off and hung it over the back of the couch. Then he turned and locked the door, deadbolt and all, as a precaution against any intrusion in the middle of the night. He looked at the food on the counter and found to his surprise that he wasn't hungry. The teen figured he would take a shower first and then make an effort to eat something. Before he did anything though, he figured he'd take a quick look around the apartment to make sure that everything was in order. He'd had a problem once or twice with people breaking in and taking things, or putting things in there that shouldn't be there.
All he did was a quick once over, starting with the classy but small kitchen. The cabinets were small, but they wrapped around the whole area. There was quite a bit of counter-space, and everything was made of sleek cherry wood. The appliances weren't high quality, but they were made of stainless material and were kept fairly clean for they weren't used very often. The next place he walked through was the living area. Right in the center there was a brown leather couch, and a small armchair situated to the left of it. It was pushed up against one of the kitchen counters, for the kitchen was open and sectioned off into the living area. Right between the couch and television there was a small wooden coffee table that sat on a small beige carpet.
The last places were the bedroom and bathroom which were both quite small. The bedroom had a modest bed in the middle with very little other than that. He didn't really have keepsakes…for he never really had a family. What little family he did have had shunned him, so he considered himself alone. He flicked on the bedroom light and took a quick peek. He found nothing abnormal, so he made his way to the bathroom. It was small, not much bigger than a closet. It was completely blue themed including some nice blue towels, though old, were soft.
He picked up one of the towels and held it to his face dreading having to take his clothes off. He knew looking at the cuts and bruises would make him nauseous as it always did. He didn't know where most of them came from actually. He would sleep one night and have dreadful nightmares of being a slave to torture, and he'd wake up with terrible throbbing cuts all over. It scared him considering the fact that they arrived out of nowhere. He was fearful of sleeping anymore. He shook off this train of thought and placed the towel down softly on the countertop. He began peeling off his clothes and dropping them to the floor. As he shed each garment he made sure to take it off with care. The fabric would rub against the still healing cuts sometimes causing them to bleed again.
He started with his shirt pulling it gently off of his slender muscular torso. He ran his fingers gently across the trail of blossoming purple down his ribcage shivering as he looked at the physical abuse his body was taking. Cuts littered his pallid skin along with purple patterns of bruises, each of these reminding him of the cruelty of both the people in town, and his dreams. He could escape the people by locking himself in all day, but he couldn't do anything about the dreams. He made sure that none of the cuts were still bleeding or infected, he then moved on to his pants and boxers.
After gently slipping out of his clothes he turned to the shower and slowly pulled the curtain back. He cranked it up to full heat and without a second thought jumped in. The water scorched his skin making him arch his body out of the water. He slowly pushed himself back into the unforgiving heated stream of water and clenched his teeth through the heat. He knew that if he hadn't set it this hot, it would be ice-cold in a matter of minutes. Eventually the heat returned to normal and he breathed a sigh of relief. Nero grabbed his favourite soap squirting a little into his hand and starting to clean off his body. As he was cleaning he took the wounds into greater detail, noticing just how raw and red they were.
Damn…, he thought, I haven't gotten this beat up since…since. The flashback hit him like cold ice as he thought of the one person who could abuse him like this and it would be completely welcomed. Dante. He blushed at that thought, thinking of him in that way and the fact that his abuse would be perfectly fine. He hadn't seen him in a long time, and wondered how he was, or even where he was. He could still clearly remember the last words Dante had said to him:
"Take care of yourself." And he smirked patting Nero on the back.
"Hey, wait, you forgot this." And the teen held Yamato out to the elder.
"Keep it," he said with no hesitation.
"Wait..what? I thought…this meant a lot to you…" the teen stuttered in shock.
"Well, that's the only kind of gift worth givin'," Dante chuckled, "I wanna' entrust it to you, so…I am. What you do from here, that's your call." At this the elder started to walk away.
"Hey, Dante!" Nero interrupted, "Will…we ever meet again?" The elder had no response, just a hand gesture as if saying "Adios, kid."…
Nero snapped out of his flashback and realized that he had been hesitating in the shower. He scrubbed out his cuts roughly and then worked some soap through his hair. After he was all done washing up, he turned the knobs of the shower with a grunt and abruptly stepped out. He wrapped the towel gently around his waist and walked out of the bathroom with another in his hand which he was using to dry his dripping locks. He wandered around the kitchen and looked at the food on the counter. He was sure that it was still warm and he figured he'd grab a plate now that he was actually hungry.
After he had eaten enough to sate his hunger he wandered off to his bedroom to dress himself. He pulled on boxers and a pair of soft, but old flannel pajama pants. After he had dressed the teen quickly cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and decided to check all of the locks once again. He unlocked and re-locked the front door and deadbolt, and he locked every window in the apartment closing the blinds afterward. He had become quite paranoid after the nightmares had finally started taking their toll on him. He realized that he was much stronger than a human and that a few simple hits shouldn't hurt him, but that was the problem; it clearly wasn't a few simple hits if they took this long to heal. Not to mention that after he woke up every morning he felt like his head was in space and he couldn't see straight.
He shook his head, pushing those thoughts away, and as he did this the collar around his neck jingled with the movement. He had noticed that he had been losing weight, so it became much less constricting. Though, unfortunately, he still couldn't get it off. It was, however, less uncomfortable for him to wear. He decided that he had put it off long enough, for it was nearing 12 o'clock midnight, and he started getting settled in for the night. He pulled the comforter off of his bed and dragged it out the comfortable leather couch. He plopped down, pulling the blanket over him, and turned on the TV for some background noise to keep him company. He was also hoping that it would keep him awake, but he knew it was useless to resist the temptation of lulling sleep. He soon drifted off, only to meet his worst nightmare…
He opened his eyes to the feel of fresh snow hitting his face. The teen sat up abruptly and looked around. The snowy dream-land was beautiful. Trees with hanging icicles stood strongly against the dark background, the snow falling in a zigzag pattern gently gracing the frozen ground. He stood up from his spot on the ground and looked down.
Oh, how cute, a snow angel, the half demon thought to himself. He walked forward a bit only to turn back and add horns to the angel. Feeling complete, he wandered on. The dream was amazingly realistic in every detail, including the detail of the handsome man clad in red standing suddenly before him. Nero had realized that he was in a park of some sort, for the older half devil was standing on a bench under a soft yellow light. As the teen walked forward, that was the only light that had stayed shining. The ones behind him shut down, leaving that area of the dream in pitch darkness. He stopped, feeling his heart thudding in his chest, but managed on addressing the man.
"Hey, you there, who are you?" he questioned. The man said nothing, just stood there as the snow drifted upon him making little piles on his shoulders and head. It was well disguised on his silvery locks, but shone as the pale yellow light danced upon him. In fact, he was really the only thing that was fully in color, Nero realized. He pushed that aside and tried again.
"Hey, I'm talking to you, old man. Who the hell are you, and why are you here?!" He raised his voice in question. Still no response. Nero began to walk towards the older man when he swooped down off the bench catching the teen in his arms. Nero was caught off guard. When the older man had leaped at him, all of the air exited his body. He gasped for breath and struggled to break free of the older man's grasp, but to no avail.
"Let…go…of...me!" the teen screamed.
"Aw, but kid, you're so damn cute when you struggle like that," at this he pushed himself closer to the teen. "You blush," he whispered in his ear. This sent shivers of heat down the younger's spine, settling between his hips. Nero continued struggling despite this.
"I-I don't even know who you are!" he screamed. This statement was answered by a look of hurt from the older man.
"Aw, don't' be hurtful kid," the elder emphasized. At that the teen knew exactly who this person was.
"D-dante…?" he questioned.
"Jackpot," the older demon hunter answered and pressed his lips to the teen's. Nero felt the heat surging from the older man and pulled himself close. He smelled amazing, the right combination of sweet and manly. Nero shivered again, more heat getting sent south. The elder pushed their hips together receiving a slight moan from the younger. Dante brushed his tongue lightly against the younger's lower lip, asking for entrance. Nero complied, and parted his heated lips. Dante shoved his tongue into the teen's mouth with little haste, exploring every surface and corner of the warm cavern. Nero shuddered and shifted, pushing himself even closer to the older man. This continued until the sound of a gun firing exploded through the air. This startled the younger, and he pulled away from the elder man only to watch him disappear into the darkness.
Nero panicked. His body went into shock and he found himself unable to move. He too was enveloped by the darkness, and jolted out of the sweet dream back into reality…
.