Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, guys. I was slammed with assignments and exams. I wrote a super long chapter, so please enjoy. :)
"So there's going to be a… gala?"
"Yes, Nero, for the last time!"
"What… the fuck is a gala again?"
Kyrie let out an exasperated sigh at Nero's blatant ignorance, cocking her hip. She wasn't in her usual attire. It seemed she was much more… Nero squinted in suspicion. Well he didn't know how to put it, really.
Dolled up?
He gave her a more observant glance. He wondered who she was looking good for all of a sudden. So the rumor that she had feelings for him was baseless. Well, maybe it was good news after all as he could never see himself sucking face with Kyrie, much less any girl at the moment. The thought made his stomach flip on itself. It wasn't associated with good things; that was for certain.
Nero strode away with his arms tucked behind his head, Kyrie quickly grabbing at his leather jacket to keep him in place. "The Rose Gala, Nero! Are you going or not?" Kyrie asked urgently, and Nero sighed aloud while rolling his eyes, mustering the most boring gaze in teenage existence as he pivoted his head back.
"Why should I go to some stuffy-ass party? So we can hear that old windbag Sanctus glorify himself on his imaginary quest to worship some dude who didn't even exist? Uh—no thanks."
Kyrie pursed her lips, quiet for a moment. "Well," She began, turning on her heel to clasp her dainty hands together. "The members of the Order of the Rose will be there. His holiness will be there of course, then there's… brother. Oh, he's definitely going."
Nero dead panned at the new-found information. "He is?"
"Oh yes, I suppose he would have no choice but to go; being so close to his holiness and all."
Nero stood up straight, eying his buckled boots as he kicked the cobbled road. "How come he didn't say anything to me?" He had a niggling feeling at the pit of his stomach all day. This morning had left the youth with a dizzying, heart-sinking feeling. He wouldn't have believed that hours ago he'd been ankles up taking cock for the first time.
He wanted to believe that what he'd done was all part of some wildly intense wet dream. Except his ass hurt something fierce, and any type of sitting was out of the question. He had woke up to an empty room, and a note of apology during a time when he'd felt the most vulnerable. Credo must have regretted his decision, and maybe couldn't handle it after all.
He could always count on Credo to be a complete asshole.
A part of Nero burned at the withdrawal as he sat there naked and increasingly miserable, his mind racing angrily. He had taken his stake and driven it into his own heart. Credo had warned him, hadn't he? He had been an idiot to think anything had changed. But instead of being angry, he couldn't help but remember blurting out his love for him.
It had come out so naturally then, and Nero didn't think it wrong to say in the moment. But somehow it must have spooked the older man. A tinge of regret lingered in his heart at the thought. Caught in his emotions, Nero shook his head as if to ward off the bad thoughts. He didn't know anything for sure yet. It wasn't right to assume, but it didn't stop the heavy feeling in his heart from clinging on to him like wet rags.
Kyrie had watched him closely and he noticed, giving her a short pat on her shoulder. Stormy emotions roiled beneath the surface of his broad, boyish smile.
"So who's your date gonna be, huh?" He wrapped an arm around her shoulder, directing them forward as they took a turn down a cobblestoned street. Distracting Kyrie was the best way to help bury it, he decided.
"No one in p-particular!"
"Aw, c'mon Kyrie. You're like the cutest girl in this joint. Someone's takin' you to the damn gala, don't you lie now." Nero's tone rose in a comical fashion at stressing the word 'lie'.
She giggled nervously, her roundabout way of telling him his prying could kindly come to an end.
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"Is it absolutely necessary? I have so many matters to attend to. After all, your holiness—"
"I insist, Credo." Sanctus' wizened voice smoothed over the Captain like a heavy blanket. He was suspicious of the old man's intentions. This hadn't been the first time he'd been lured into one of Sanctus's little mind games. That was all the old man had left in him for entertainment these days. But every now and again he would surprise Credo in a way that still left the sour tang of uneasiness in his gut.
He quietly waited in his cowardice for the day Sanctus would die. He would shed no tears for him when he was gone.
"It'll be good for us, don't you think? My followers, they…" Sanctus began as he waved a wrinkled, vein-riddled hand. It looked fragile, and if grabbed the wrong way it would break to pieces. "…they need their symbol of strength. Their faith must be strong in times like these."
Credo wondered if Sanctus believed in his own words, but one look into those eyes and he knew in them belied plans so large it seemed there was no limit to his faith. Credo sat stiffly in the chair across from Sanctus, careful to focus on a point that kept those eyes from meeting his own. He heard a chuckle, and Credo looked at him in annoyance.
"You've always been so diligent, Credo. It's what I admire about you most."
"You're too kind your Holiness." Credo murmured without warmth in his voice.
"You never call me "Sanctus"." The old man replied, and at that Credo tightened his jaw, hoping silence would carry them away from this conversation. The old fox still had it in him somewhere to test the boundaries of profession. Credo had barely suppressed the curling of his upper lip, smoothing over the front of his crisp white uniform blazer instead.
"I suppose Agnus has spoken to you about what needs to be done?" Credo had been a tad relieved at the question, even though the dark possibility of the consequences should it fail quickly arose, and just like that dread had filled the pit of his stomach.
"Yes, I was made aware of the situation." Credo's voice miraculously hadn't wavered. It was something he had to come to terms with, or so he thought. Seeing Nero this morning in his arms had made it all frighteningly real somehow. The dawning realization came over him then: he was most likely never going to see him, touch him… hold him again.
Would Kyrie and Nero be fine without him? He hadn't been certain, but he'd come this far and backing down would mean everything he'd sacrificed would be for nothing.
He was never good at saying goodbye.
And so he had left him there, all alone to deal with the scary feeling of giving up a part of himself no one had ever taken—Credo knew it wasn't right. He also knew how terrible it had felt once upon a time. The boy would most likely run off and never forgive him for it. The perpetuating cycle of despicable behavior would live on.
In his own cowardice a part of him wished it to stay at that, to let this heated affair between them die down into nothing. But had it really been? Had it been when he was deep inside of Nero, taking him the way he had last night? He swore it would be a one-time thing… Credo realized he swore on a lot of things as of late.
At the clearing of a throat, Credo found himself staring off, finding the older man watching him much more closely than before. "Do not worry, my son."
Fear clung to his insides at Sanctus' searching gaze. For a moment he thought the old man could see right through him and what things that transpired the night prior.
"Worry about what?" Credo asked cautiously.
"Sparda has already chosen."
The declaration did very little to comfort the Captain.
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Through some act of God Nero and Credo had found themselves stuck at one of the boutiques in town. It was famous for its well-designed fabrics as well as tailored suits. Kyrie, to Credo's suspicion, had asked him to go on the premise that she would also be there.
But magically at the last minute she had mentioned she had to help a friend choose a dress, and it was life or death if she didn't go. And then she had gone to leave him alone with Nero. The older man rubbed his temple as they both stood out in front of the shop, silence looming over them like a heavy forecast.
"She runs off and doesn't even stop to consider I don't know shit about suits!" Nero cursed under his breath through gritted teeth, kicking into the pavement. Credo carefully stepped around Nero to open the door. "Luckily I know a thing or two about that. Get in."
Nero had watched Credo for a while before stepping inside.
Credo was well aware that the air between them had yet to resolve itself, but for the sake of continuity they both knew they needed to find something to wear for the gala coming up. Nero made a face at all the attire hanging from the golden racks. His fingers slapped at an extended sleeve from one of the racks, and Credo shook his head as he was greeted with a rather quick-footed employee.
"Good afternoon, sir. Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Yes, there's a suit I'll be picking up today, I would also like to get started on tailoring a suit for this… young man."Credo chose his words slowly. Nero stopped his inspection of the gaudy clothing in one section to peer at the older man like he'd heard something unbelievable. The woman nodded and was off to find samples of fabric to start with. Nero looked up as Credo drew near. "You don't have to make me a suit. It's just a stupid party."
"You need to look sharp. It's a bow and tie affair, Nero. You can't go in just anything. Besides, every young man needs at least one suit in his wardrobe." Credo murmured as their eyes met. With a tilt of his head to the side, Nero had taken a step closer, his words a bit clumsy on his tongue.
"There's something I want to t—"
He was cut off by the clacking of heels coming their way, the moment between them lost as there were swatches of fabric thrust into Credo's hand. "This way. We'll get his measurements."
However things had been before, Credo had found some enjoyment in seeing Nero squirm as needles were place to piece the fabric together. He had been pricked a few times in the process. And that served him right to move like that when he was warned not to move in the first place. Credo watched with interest as Nero stood obediently as the lady did her work.
When this was said and done he would look irresistible, Credo knew.
It was a while before Nero had stepped down from the stand, carefully heading to the dressing room where his jacket hung on a rack. It was a much more private area, mirrors encircling the viewer at every angle. Credo had watched Nero inspect himself in the mirror. The boy paused to look behind him, an unsure gaze held in those wide cerulean eyes.
"You look sharp."
It was a far cry from easing the tension between them, but Nero had nodded in silence, tucking hair behind his ear. The tips of them were red, Credo noted. He found himself taking a step closer, and he aborted the motion as quickly as he'd begun it.
"Mind helping me out of this death trap?" Nero asked, and Credo came behind him to gingerly pull the suit jacket off of his shoulders. When Nero turned to regard the older man again, he opened his mouth to say something, but then Credo was close as if waiting to hear him speak. They stood there without saying a word, Nero being the first to touch Credo's arm.
"Thanks…" Nero said slowly, and Credo's gaze lowered as he caught the youth licking his lips, a seemingly nervous reaction. He wondered what those lips were capable of doing if he willed it. Credo's eyes had focused on them, but the clacking of heels reminded him of where he was once again, edging away from Nero. He had had the wild thought of touching him here, of all places.
Nero gave an annoyed sound at the infuriatingly polite voice behind them, handing the woman the offending article of clothing as he passed. The moment was most certainly gone, and with it any hopes of regaining his need for control.
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The gala, to Nero's surprise had been much more extravagant than he'd ever thought to dream. People from all over were dressed in their finest clothes. The event was being held in a large ball room, with tables as far as the eye could see. Everything seemed to glitter and glow, from the rich red and gold trimmings on all objects and surfaces in the room, down to the cutlery was perfect.
Kyrie had been at his arm looking more beautiful than ever, her smiles warming everyone's hearts as they stepped out of the car that was a courtesy of the Order to make their way into the building. Kyrie wore a white dress that flowed like fine lace once it reached her ankles. Her hair was suspended in an array of tight curls with a matching white flower in it, a few tresses falling to frame her petite face and rosy cheeks, the most beautiful earrings adorning her ears.
She looked happy to be there, and Nero had no choice but to feel the very same way with her. The suit came out better than he thought it would. It had been a grey suit tailored to fit his lean frame, a double breasted vest made with a contrasting mauve that had his suit standing out, with black shoes to give it the perfect accent. A white flower was pinned delicately at the breast pocket.
Nero had fussed with Kyrie about his choice of hairstyle as he planned on going with his usual tousled look. But she wasn't having any of it, and had dutifully attacked his head with a comb and pomade. His hair slicked back had made him look and feel like such a dork, but one look in the direction of a group of girls had him prickling uncomfortably at their gazes.
"Don't worry about them. They're just jealous." Kyrie said softly with a mischievous grin.
"Jealous? What, of us?" Nero pointed to himself, incredulous. Kyrie laughed at him. He could always count on her to ease his anxiety with that infectious laugh of hers.
"Guess you and I are stars tonight." Nero took her hand in his, both of them sauntering up the stairs to join the massive crowd of people gathering at the entrance. The set up in the hallways were Romanesque in its quality, each side lined with marble busts leading out on either side into a garden.
Nero had stuck with Kyrie for the most part, looking around for any trace of a certain brunette in the crowd in distraction.
"Nero,"
"Huh?" The boy murmured, breaking away momentarily to watch Kyrie. "I've got to go and say hello to a few friends. You don't mind if I leave you to speak with them?"
"Ah, no… go ahead. Have fun." He murmured, and she hurried off.
He stood there with his hands in his pockets, wondering at how he would manage to not be completely bored out of his mind. Nero had wandered about in-between tables and people carrying on conversation, hoping by some miracle he would see Credo. Nero had promised himself he wouldn't go to that deep, dark place that wished to tell him how wrong he had been.
How wrong he had started to feel.
A waiter passed by with a tray that carried flute glasses of champagne and Nero grabbed one in passing, taking a long swig. There was no fucking way he was getting depressed over this. In a room full of men and women, Nero could find someone to connect with for one night. It was simple. He could do this.
Another waiter passed again, and this time Nero took two, giving the guy an intimidating glare at the disapproving frown. Didn't anyone get he was fucking eighteen now and could do whatever the hell he wanted? It seemed the grown-ups still had sticks stuck far up their—
"Nero, I take it?"
At the familiar voice, Nero's head rose to encounter the head of the Order smiling gracefully at him. Something made his skin crawl about Sanctus, and the feeling had increased in a span of seconds as Sanctus let his eyes wander over Nero. Maybe speaking with the elderly wasn't his forte.
"I have heard about your progress." Sanctus brought up vaguely, and Nero attempted to understand what he was getting at.
"Thank you? I, ah… yes, thanks." Nero replied dumbly. He took another swallow of champagne to ease the dryness in his throat at the way the older man observed him calmly.
"We hope to use your talents for the greater good in the future, Nero. Credo seems to have high hopes for your adjustment into the Order. What position do you intend on taking?"
Before Nero could answer however, a voice bellowed behind him.
"Nero hasn't thought that far down the road. He's still considering his future."
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The hand at Nero's elbow had almost sent the champagne spilling to the floor, but by some miracle Nero had caught it in time.
"Ah, Credo, there you are." Sanctus could fool many with his lovely smile, but Credo knew better than to underestimate the old fox. He was most assuredly up to something sinister. Sanctus approaching Nero may have very well been a warning to Credo. These days he kept both eyes open.
Credo was dressed from head to toe in a black uniform and golden buttons save for the white mantle draped elegantly over his back, flowing effortlessly over his broad shoulders. Elaborately embroidered golden tassels hung from the shoulders, some of them connecting to his uniform jacket. Decorations for ranks he'd obtained over the years adorned his chest.
Nero forgot his words for a moment as cerulean eyes caught the older man's moody glance, his elbow held firmly in Credo's leather-gloved hand.
"I was merely encouraging the boy towards his future with the Order." Sanctus said with a cragged smiled. "But, please enjoy yourselves tonight. "
Credo received kind words from passers-by, returning their pleasantries with a curt nod, an almost barely repressed expression of disdain creeping on his features. It occurred to the teen that Credo was just as terrible at being in public as he was. Nevertheless, Nero didn't know how many years Credo had been doing this, but the thought of it comforted him a little.
Nero didn't have much time to prod the older man about it as Credo began striding rather quickly towards the side entrance of the ballroom that led out to the labyrinth of trees and hedges beyond it. Rushing out onto the platform, Nero caught sight of Credo staring idly at the full moon. Even in the moonlight Nero could make out his tense form. It was silent between them for a little while, but for once Nero had no words to say. From here the youth could tell something was bothering the commander.
Nero stood beside him, shoulders hunched as he leaned against the masterfully carved marble. The event of this morning seemed so far away now, as if it had happened in another life-time.
"You sure know how to dress up for the occasion." Nero began awkwardly, and Credo wrenched his eyes away from whatever distant place they'd been focusing on, his eyes holding something unidentifiable in them. Nero almost balked at the look, but then it was gone underneath that impeccably controlled gaze of his.
"Had I not sent you to get tailored, you would have waltzed in with a shirt and shoes like an idiot."
"Ouch," Nero laughed softly, rubbing his neck.
"You look nice tonight… really." At that the youth lifted his head at the praise, unsure he'd heard things right. Then Credo's hand was at Nero's hair, brushing stray white locks away from his forehead. The moment was tender in a way that Nero hadn't been prepared to accept, edging his head back in teenage rebellion.
"It was wrong of me… what I did..." Credo began. His voice died away as Nero turned his face back to him, an expectant look held there. When nothing came, the tightly wrapped coil of emotion roiling in the youth's belly shifted at the indifference.
"Jesus Christ, you really are shit at this aren't you?" Nero scoffed as he glared up at the older man. Credo stiffened, turning away suddenly. Nero followed him without a hitch, grabbing at the older man's arm to force him back. "What's your deal? One minute you're apologizing and the next you're bailing on me? I mean after last night—"
Credo whipped his head nervously at the festivities lively happening in the ballroom not too far from them, glaring Nero down with narrowed eyes.
"Keep your voice down—"
"NO." Nero said through gritted teeth, breathing shakily through flaring nostrils. "We're going to talk about it. Right here, right now." Nero's eyes were an icy-blue in the moon's light, crystalline and pure with wild emotion.
"Something important—"
The words were there. Nero had practiced how calm he would be. In his mind's eye he had all the right words to say. In his mind he would shame the commander with his words; in his world he would be triumphant.
"You're an insensitive, selfish fucking prick for leaving me up there!" At the indifference in the commander's voice, the anger Nero had worked so hard to control had come flooding back in. With a swallow of surprise, the boy had found his vision going blurry.
And like that his words came spilling out without another thought. This was not at all how he imagined things would go. Jesus fuck, Nero thought in panic. He was most certainly going to cry in front of this man, a man who with a single word could crush him. Just when he felt the overwhelming urge to, his feet were suddenly moving. Nero looked down to see his hand caught up in Credo's as they hurried out into the garden maze.
Nero exclaimed surprise as he was thrust against a hedge wall, Credo's arms boxing him in on either side of his head.
"You're impossible, you know this?" Credo growled.
"Fuck you," Nero let out a watery sniff."I can't help—"
Nero fell silent as Credo tipped his chin up to kiss him thoroughly. At first he resisted, turning his face from Credo only to have his lips caught up in another rough kiss. Nero was caught up in the older man's embrace now, matching tongue to teeth, lips, everything suddenly lost in the tide of desire. They kissed like they were fighting about it, harsh pants escaping between the intimate space of their faces. Nero reached between them, his hand trailing over the evidence of Credo's arousal, watching with low-lidded eyes as he realized what the boy intended on doing.
"Nero—" The older man's breath caught as Nero squeezed his cock, relishing in the way it twitched with hardening interest beneath his merciless grip. Oh how he loved the way Credo said his name, sometimes.
He wouldn't let the man weasel out of this, not now when he was hard as diamonds at the way Credo looked at him from above. It was 'fuck the gala' as far as Nero was concerned.
As Nero slowly got to his knees, Credo held his shoulders with a firm grip to stop him.
"Not here," He rasped softly, nodding his head back towards the ballroom. "Home." Was all the man could muster, but Nero could see Credo struggling with his own arousal as he said it. Nero gave a slow smile that spoke volumes of mischief.
"I'll hold you to that," The youth murmured in passing as they exited the labyrinth and up the stone steps that led back to the ballroom. The gala was still a stupid idea no doubt, but the evening's conclusion had yet to come knowing what lay in store for him when this was all over. With a smug smile, Nero strutted back into the ballroom praying the night would end so their night would finally begin.