This is very syfy-y because of all the movies and books I've been reading. So, I'm apologizing in advance if this turns out to be terrible.

Unlike Dante, Nero didn't grow up with twisted memories.

He was a normal kid, with normal parents and normal friends. He got fairly good grades and most of his high school days were spent relaxing with his friends under the summer sun that was that was Limbo City. He liked art and writing—anything that involved creativity—and had gone off to Fortuna University to major in English, live on his own, and maybe go to a party or two. And, really, things were going just as smoothly as he thought they would.

That is, until he was nearly run down by some guy on a motercycle at nine o clock in the morning.

"Watch out!" Nero's eyes darted up from the book he was reading, just barely having enough time to jump to the side, pivot, and land into the nearby bushes.

"Fuck." He groaned, listening as the rouge bike crashed as well. Honestly, Nero thought by walking through a nice peaceful neighborhood, he could avoid incidents like this. Sure, ever since he'd started college he'd learned to adjust to the hectic students, running around campus, balancing a text book in one hand and a coffee in another.

He'd be lying if he said this was the first time he'd been run down. By trampling students or other wise. Everybody out here were always in a hurry; cars were constantly honking viciously at each other, crossing pedestrians jay walking, flipping anybody off that dare threaten to not let them pass. It was all very stressful and Nero opted to avoid dealing with it. Instead, he'd walk to campus, have a book in one hand and stroll through residential areas that were always peaceful this time of day. And yet, he still manages to have a near death experience.

"Hey!" The bicyclist yelled, rushing over to the bush, limping slightly. "Hey, are you okay?"

Nero groaned once again, resisting the urge to say something snarky, because, fuck, what did this guy think? Yeah, it's just everyday that he falls back into a prickly pack of bushes. "Yeah," He grunted, pushing himself up, trying not to stagger and fall back again. "Yeah, I just—" He had to pause, because, whoa, he had turned to the guy and noticed that he was staring at him, like really staring at him. He looked petrified, like he was gonna puke or pass out or maybe a combination of both. His gray-blue eyes swept over Nero from head to toe, looking wider than saucers. Nero nearly thought his expression was cartoon comical.

"It's you," He whispered, taking a step forward, in turn Nero took a step back. "It's really you." The guy laughed, running a hand through his black and white hair as some sort of nervous tick. "I never thought…I…I mean, I hoped, but, well, it's a big fucking world and yet—here you are."

"Um…"

"I knew it, though. I felt that familiar feeling inside of me like something was coming and then I saw you walking and I thought I was fucking hallucinating. That's why I kinda freaked out and almost hit you," Another shaky laugh. "Sorry about that, by the way."

"Um…it's okay…"

"I didn't hurt you did I? Fuck, you know much I hated when you got hurt." The dark haired boy with gray-blue eyes reached forward as if to run his finger along the small cut that had formed on Nero's left cheek.

Said boy jerked back quickly. "Did you…did you hit your head or something?"

"…What?"

"I mean…are you okay…I don't—I don't really…"

Gray-blue eyes widened, looking slightly frantic. "I'm Dante. We…we knew each other. You and me…we were partners. You know…"

"Um…" Again he started to walk back hastily, trying to be ready if this guy decided to start saying he was a fairy and then mug him for all he was worth. Oh fuck, he thought, I'm gonna be robbed by a guy that rides a motercycle. "…I'm sorry; I don't think we've ever met. Maybe you're mistaking me with someone else?"

The guy—Dante—shook his head, even more frantic than before. "Of course not! You…you're hard to forget. C'mon, you gotta remember something. Lady? Virgil? Trish? Chancellor Mundas? The freedom fighters? Any of this ringing any bells?"

"Uh…" Dante threw his hands to the air, groaning in desperation. If Nero wasn't fearing for his life at the moment, he'd probably feel sorry for the guy.

"You…you really don't remember?"

Nero shook his head. "I'm sorry; I hope you find who you're looking for, though." In response, Dante merely scowled.

For a moment, the two of them simply looked at each other. And, for a millisecond, Nero thought that maybe he felt something flicker inside him, something unknown, but it was gone before he could even blink. And after another minute of awkward silence and a…weird staring contest, Dante simply flipped him the bird and stalked off.

Nero, not really used to having somebody hate him so openly, couldn't help the words that spilled out of his mouth. "Are…are you alright?"

Cold gray-blue eyes regarded him with annoyance, hopping onto his scratched bike. "Yeah, just—I think god hates me. That and life's a bitch." And before Nero could be thoroughly confused by his words, the bike was already speeding off into the distance.

That night was the first night that he dreamt of his past life. The first night he dreamed of stormy blue eyes and a blinding white smile.