AN: Bet some of you thought you'd never see me again, right? Well, I never give up on my stories, except that one on hiatus (check it out- I'm stuck for ideas!). Erm… Anyways. Over the break I really tidied up my thoughts and the story plan and I must let you know that though this story has a slow ascent, everything goes downhill very quickly.
Stay with me, dear readers, and you will be rewarded.
-o-
If the apartment seemed small from the outside, then it wasn't lying. The whole place consisted of two medium sized bedrooms, an open plan living space/kitchen and a bathroom with a tub that had suspicious fungi growing inside it.
Years of hoarding and lack of thorough cleaning meant that the whole place was packed with dirty clothes, newspapers, and old food containers. Hazel was also sure that there was a family of mice somewhere in the equation. Yet, despite the terrible state of the apartment, it was the closest thing to a home that she had.
Gran was an old woman who spent more time watching TV than doing anything else. She wasn't really a blood relation, but she had been nicer to Hazel than any family members had ever been, not counting her own mother. And even her mum had to work several jobs and allow paying men to have their way with her to afford their bills and put food on the table. And then there was her drug habit. In the end, that was what had killed her.
Which was why she could taste the bitter irony that her father was a criminal who made his fortune shipping all kinds of illicit substances. She didn't know if her mother's death was a punishment from fate for her father or for her. Fate was no one's friend, after all.
Gran had been a resident in their neighboring apartment complex and she had assumed custody of Hazel when the police officers came looking. Because they were basically in the slums, the officers didn't bother asking for proof of relation. They were probably just glad to be rid of another kid who was be thrown into the foster system. When her mum was alive, Gran was a smaller, but still vital part of their life. When callers came to her mum, often in the late evenings, she would grab her schoolbag and run the whole way to Gran's place.
She was lucky to have Gran.
Best of all, Gran never asked questions. If she wanted to sleep here that was fine. If she wanted to spend the night alone in the old property that used to belong to her mum but was now empty, that was fine. And if Hazel decided to turn up randomly with some posh looking white guy- that was fine too.
When she came to the door with her usually toothless grin, she gave Hazel a tight hug and gave both a glance over, as if checking they still had all their limbs and let them in without a word.
Hazel was tired and hungry, now that the adrenaline had worn off. She glanced around at the familiar surroundings, breathed in that seemingly ever-present moldy smell that made the apartment distinct and felt a sense of safety wash over her. Nico was looking around too, but with an unreadable expression on his face.
"This is where you live?" He said cautiously. "It's not what I expected."
Hazel nodded. Suddenly it felt awkward just standing there on that dirty doormat that might have once said WELCOME. "It's not much, but it's home." She said the cliched words aloud.
Her half-brother nodded, deep in thought, "I quite agree."
"With which part?"
"Both."
Hazel beckoned him into her bedroom, which consisted of a small single bed, a simple wooden desk and a swirl chair that she had found by the side of the road a few years back. Suddenly, she was embarrassed. Nico had come from a life that was so far above this, so cushioned by wealth and convenience that this must have looked like a dog kennel to him.
But, Nico was surprisingly respectful. "May I sit down?"
Hazel shoved a bunch of clothes off the bed, feeling her cheeks heat as a bralette slipped out of the pile and landed on Nico's shoe. "Err… Sure." She grabbed the lingerie and threw it into a far corner of the room.
Her brother sat down cautiously and glanced around. He cleared his throat. "I'm really sorry. I don't know if I should be the one expressing this sentiment, but I really am. Our father could have easily raised you out of this environment, but he didn't. I don't know why, but I'm ashamed."
Hazel sat down next to him, touched by his words, but also a little bit indignant. "I appreciate it. But I think my mum told him that she wanted to be kept out of the spotlight."
"But he could have easily given you something to help," Nico glanced at the peeling wallpaper, "He didn't have to raise you to celebrity status, but a few hundred grands wouldn't have gone amiss."
Hazel nodded, "My mum was a proud and determined woman. If she wanted something, she would have gotten it. And she wanted me to have a normal life, so she made sure it happened."
"This isn't a normal life, Hazel. You can talk all you want about the all-encompassing power of love, but love doesn't buy you food, it doesn't buy you the bare necessities. I'm not saying that I had a better or more satisfying life- gods forbid, my family life was and still is nonexistent. But at least I knew that I wouldn't ever go hungry."
Hazel didn't know what to say. All these emotional words seemed foreign coming from Nico, even if she had only known him for a few days. She hid her surprise well though. "Let's look at that scratch on your back. Strip down whilst I go see if I can find a first aid pack somewhere."
Nico looked at her, as if he was seeing her for the first time. He smiled uncertainly. "Alright then."
-o-
Gran was in the kitchen, picking through the fridge. Evidently, she thought that they needed feeding.
"Don't worry about it, Gran. We'll just order some pizza in."
Gran stopped rummaging through the fridge and fixed Hazel with a toothless smile. "I'll just go watch the box then. Do ya need anything else?"
"Do you have a first aid kit anywhere? And a spare change of clothes for my friend?" Hazel wasn't sure why she didn't disclose Nico's actual identity. It wasn't that she didn't trust Gran, but an uncomfortable feeling wormed its way through her stomach whenever she thought about telling anyone who her real father was. And Gran, as trustworthy as she was, was bound to ask questions. Questions that she didn't want to answer.
Not to mention what Poseidon had said about that lottery win.
Gran stood on tiptoes and rummaged on the top of the fridge. She handed over a grimy dull-red bag, "Here's something. Clothes are on the couch." Hazel thanked her, then smiled quickly and left.
-o-
Nico was standing up again when she returned, examining her wall of photos. He was fixated on a photo of Hazel and Reyna, in school uniforms, both blissfully unaware of the future. Or, at least she was. Nico had taken his shirt off, and Hazel took in his pale back and wondered again whether they were really related. Such smooth skin, except for a short weeping scratch below his right shoulder.
"Hey?"
Her brother turned around. Hazel almost gasped in shock but caught herself before she could, for most of his lower left side was marred with purplish bruises. "What happened to you?"
Nico brushed her off, "Ribs take a long time to heal apparently. It's fine." He sat back down on the bed, "Are you going to just stand there and wait for me to die of infection?"
Hazel rolled her eyes. She sat down beside him and examined the contents of the first aid pack. The antiseptic bottle was already half empty and covered in grime, but Hazel figured it was better than nothing. Could antiseptic expire? Pushing away the guilt, she poured some out onto a makeup pad and approached Nico. She edged closer to him, praying that Gran didn't choose the burst in that time. Especially since she hadn't explained that Nico was family.
Nico hissed in pain when she pressed the antiseptic-soaked cotton against his shoulder but didn't say anything else. She repeated the action a few more times, then took a large adhesive bandage and sealed the cut with it. "There, you'll be fine now. Put this on, I found it on the couch- pretty sure it's clean-ish." She handed over a rolled up black t-shirt to Nico.
Nico did so, and she couldn't help but let out a laugh at the sight of him dressed in a black t-shirt with a dancing skeleton on it. "Dude. You look great."
Her brother frowned, "Do you have any food?"
"It depends on whether you got a credit card." She grinned, "and an open mind?"
And that's how they ended up eating greasy pizzas from the Pizza Hut a few streets over. Hazel was munching down the doughy food, trying her best to not let too much juice drip down her chin. Nico, on the other hand, interwove every mouthful with a complaint.
"This is like fifty percent oil!"
"Stop complaining. It's not that bad. Don't tell me you've never had a pizza before."
Nico swallowed another mouthful and frowned, "Of course I have. But when I think pizza, I mean things like Pizzeria Bianco, not a lump of half cooked dough with some mushrooms on it. I think I might get food poisoning from this."
Hazel rolled her eyes. She would always be surprised by how childish Nico could be, and how quickly that stubborn young man in the library only two days ago could open to someone so quickly.
"You'll be fine. Just focus on something else."
Nico paused and shot a look over his shoulder, "So you've lived here all these years? With your mother and grandmother?"
She paused, the pizza suddenly tasting like sawdust in her mouth. "She's not really my grandmother. We used to live next door, and one day when I came home there was an ambulance and two police cars outside my house." Her voice caught slightly, but she pushed on, "I've been living here ever since. No one ever bothered to ask whether she was my relation or not. Gran's been here for me these last few years, ever since mum died."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't pity me. That's what I've gotten all these years from everyone and anyone that had the power to help me. I don't want that from you."
And suddenly it was true. She didn't want Nico to just pity her. She wanted him to know the real her. Not just the unfortunate girl that grew up in what was basically a slum, but the person that she was inside, with interests and passions. It was interesting how quickly money could change one's mind. Now that she would never need to worry about where her next meal was coming from, she was more focused on fostering relationships with the people around her.
And Nico? The half-brother that she'd have never voluntarily talked to a few days ago had somehow become a close confidant. When people escape death together, they normally put aside their differences and became friends.
Nico raised an eyebrow, "I just meant that our father should have been there to help you guys out. At least in terms of the financial side of things."
"Is that all you think in terms of? Money?"
Nico grimaced, "That's not what I mean. I know that people with too much money can look unidimensional, but every individual is worth getting to know. I believe that, and I'd like to think that you believe it too."
It was as if her mind had been read. Hazel suddenly felt ashamed. She decided to let him off the hook and move onto another topic. Absentmindedly, she noticed that they had finished off the pizza.
"Should you call Frank and Reyna to let them know we're still alive?"
Nico chuckled, "They'll know because we're not on the news." Then, at a glare from Hazel, he relented, "Fine. Where's the phone?"
"In the lounge room, right next to the couch where you're sleeping."
-o-
Hazel woke up to the sound of harsh coughing. Her groggy mind pondered this for a moment or so, but in the time that it took her to wake up the coughs had turned into retching sounds and her keen ears picked up the unwelcome sound of stomach contents splashing into the toilet bowl.
She pushed the blankets off and shivered in the cold night air for a moment. But then sighed and got up, cursing her kindness and the thinness of the walls. She picked up a stray jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
When Hazel approached the bathroom, she found that the source of all the commotion was Nico vomiting into the toilet bowl. She huffed in annoyance, but still placed a hand on his back.
"Are you alright?"
Nico flinched at her sudden appearance, but the alarm wore off as he groaned and leaned forwards to throw up again.
When he finished, he glared at her, "This is all your fault. I told you that pizza wasn't edible. Now I think I've got food poisoning."
Hazel couldn't be mad at someone that in the process of coughing their innards out. She rubbed his back reassuringly. "Don't be silly, you don't have food poisoning. You're just not used to the oily food. The food of us peasants have to eat is hard to digest."
Nico made to reply but had to lurch back to use the toilet bowl.
Hazel gagged at the smell hit her. He was throwing up quite violently. Maybe he did get some food poisoning? But then she shook her heard. She wasn't going to play his game.
"You really do have a sensitive stomach, don't you?"
Her brother leaned against the wall and wiped his mouth with a piece of toilet paper. "I didn't used to, I think. Ah, how the mighty have fallen."
Indeed, in the pale light of the bathroom, Nico didn't look well. From clammy skin to shallow breathes and a decent amount of shivering, Hazel figured he was either dying or being very dramatic. Probably the latter.
When the spewing stopped completely, Hazel helped him lie back down on the couch and pressed a hand to his forehead.
"Well, you don't have a fever. So…"
"Are you sure?" Nico pressed.
Hazel flicked his head with a finger, "You just want to die and blame me for it, right?"
For some reason, it just seemed right to make a joke at this time.
Her brother sank into the couch, "It'd be ironic if a bunch of assassins failed and I died from eating pizza, eh?"
That got a laugh out of them both.
Hazel glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, "It's past three. Get some sleep, you'll feel better in the morning."
Nico suddenly smiled at her. A genuine smile that seemed to brighten up the whole room. For a moment he looked younger and kinder. It was amazing how much something so small could change a person.
"Thanks, Hazel."
-o-
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