Chapter Text
~Luciano~
I slip stealthily out of the walk-in food pantry, bag slung on my shoulders. But this time, the room isn’t empty. There’s another boy, a new boy with blonde hair and violet eyes and scars on his face and arms. He scoops up some snack foods out of the food pantry, then zips it into his bag and slips out. He’s wearing a dark green cap on his head, a military jacket and pants, a white tank top, and dark grey military boots. A large cross is slung lazily on a dark chain around his neck.
I slip out of the room and head for the doors to the outside world. But the boy has other plans. He reaches out and catches me by my shoulder, tugging me back around to face him.
I backpedal a couple steps and drop my eyes. He’s an upperclassman, probably a senior. He’s strong—strong enough he could easily bully me if he decides to just like everyone else.
“Hallo,” he says. He has a thick German accent; he must be new to the area. I would remember an accent like that. Maybe he’s even new to the country.
He takes a step forward. I take a step back, towards the door.
He tilts his head slightly, then reaches out a hand as if to touch me. I flinch back and he drops the hand.
Silence fills the tension between us. My instincts scream at me to run, but my mind wonders just what he’ll do. He doesn’t seem like the others.
I peek at him, then drop my eyes again. It can’t hurt to say hi, right? “…Ciao.”
“You’re very shy,” he says curiously.
I twitch a little, keeping my eyes on my shoes. If I ignore him long enough, maybe he’ll go away. That’s safer, anyway. I don’t need to drag anyone else through the mud that permeates my life.
He sort of laughs. It’s a curious laugh, a gentle laugh. His arms fold across his chest almost defensively, then he jerks his head towards the pantry. “You use it, too?”
I blink a little, then shrug. “Sometimes.”
He sort of smiles. “You always give one-word answers?”
“Usually.”
He tilts his head, his eyes wondering and gentle. “Are you afraid?”
I blink a little and my eyes widen slightly. “N-no. I just—people don’t usually talk to me.”
“Why not?” He seems a little amused by that. “It’s not like you’ll bite.”
I smile for half a millisecond. “I’ve bitten someone. Once. They bled.”
He chuckles. “They probably deserved it, then.”
I shift uneasily. Again, my body tells me to run while my brain tells me to stay. “My older brother has a knife fetish,” I tell him quietly. “They call me knife boy. I think they’re scared of me. I don’t know.”
Again, he sort of smiles. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re adorable.”
I blink a bit, taken aback. No one’s ever said that before.
I shift a little more upright, a little less tense. “My brother likes to threaten to stab people. He’d never do it but it’s a little put-offish. Once they get close, though, he’ll never let them go. I think only Andrés has realized that. Most people scare off easily.”
He rolls his eyes. “A little knife never scared me.” He holds up his right arm with the three long scars on it, crooking an eyebrow. “Knives.”
My eyes widen just a little. “Why?”
He shrugs and drops the arm. “Because I’m bi and my brother’s gay. Our family didn’t like that. He’s got a cross cut into his face. This was also them.”
He runs his finger along the scar trailing diagonally across his cheek. “They like knives. All they did was desensitize me to violence. They were trying to convert me.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s never gonna work.”
I shift a little in surprise. I’ve never spoken so easily with such a total stranger.
He holds out his hand in offering. A black cloth glove encases his hand, as well. “I’m Lutz.”
I hesitate a moment, then very briefly allow him to shake my hand. “Luciano.”
“Ha ha ha, yeah,” the voice comes from up the hall.
Just like that, all the tension I had—and more—returns. I take a couple steps back until my back is pressed against the closed door, ready to run.
Lutz looks that direction, then back at me. “You’re bullied,” he says questioningly.
“Maybe,” I dismiss it quietly. “Maybe I just don’t like people.”
“Or maybe you’ve met a lot of assholes and haven’t caught a break,” Lutz declares boldly. He shakes his head. “There’s seven billion forty-eight million people on this planet and growing, Luciano. You can’t tell me all of them are bad.”
“Not all of them are bad, I want to help the good people,” I shake my head. “But there’s also a lot of assholes and I’ve met all of them around here. Especially Hayden.”
“Him?” Lutz asks, jerking his head towards the laughter.
I nod mutely. He rolls his eyes. “He’s just an immature ass. Let it go.”
I shake my head quickly back and forth. “He’s not just verbally teasing me.”
“You mean he hits you,” Lutz says flatly.
I flinch back. “Maybe.”
“Does your brother know?”
“God, no.” I shiver a little. “That’s a terrible idea. He’d call Sebastiano, our older brother. And he really isn’t afraid to use knives. He’d cut him open.”
“Has he put you in the hospital?”
I hesitate. “…Maybe.”
Lutz mutters a curse, then clenches and unclenches his fists. “My dad works at the hospital. I’ve heard a lot of stories of the people who end up there.”
He sighs. “How many times?”
I shrug. “I stopped keeping track. He’s been pushing me around since freshman year.”
“And you’re…a junior, right?”
I shift a little, then nod. Lutz sighs. “Two years.”
His voice keeps getting closer. My hands begin to tremble, my eyes shifting to the hall he’s coming from.
Hayden and two of his friends come out of the hall into the lunch room nearby, then he looks over and laughs, coming my way. “Oh look,” he says. “It’s knife boy.”
I shift upright again. Hayden’s one of the few people to ever have seen me actually scared; but now Lutz and Hayden’s buddies see it, too. I haven’t eaten in three days and I haven’t slept in a week. It’s wearing me down. I need a break. I hate admitting to weakness, but I’m scared. Very scared.
Hayden laughs. “Look,” he says, pointing to my hands where they tremble in little fists. “Knife boy’s scared . Ha ha.”
His buddies laugh. I press further away from him. “Leave me alone.”
My voice is soft and shaky, not loud and firm like it usually is. That’s enough to tell Hayden I’m wearing down, and he just laughs again. “And why should I?”
“I have enough going on without you pushing me around,” I tell him boldly.
He grabs me by my collar and pulls my body against his, forcing his mouth on mine. I try to shove him off, but like everyone he’s stronger than me. He doesn’t budge.
Lutz seems to have had enough, and he pulls Hayden off of me and shoves him a couple steps back. “Leave him alone, jackass.”
I cough a couple times and drag my sleeve across my mouth. I can’t even suppress a tiny shudder. I usually can hide how I’m feeling, at least in front of other people. But I’m too tired and hungry to focus on what look is on my face.
Hayden laughs. “Get outta my way, new boy, or you’re next.”
One of Hayden’s henchmen tries to shove Lutz out of the way. But rather than budging, he barks a laugh and grabs the guy’s arm. He lifts him up like he weighs nothing, then flips him over his shoulder drops him on his back on the floor. His other buddy takes offense at that and tries to punch him, and he does the same thing; he flips him up over his shoulder and right onto his friend.
Hayden looks mildly unnerved by that, but he cracks his knuckles and clenches his fists. “Outta my way.”
“No.” His voice is quiet, but so firm even I flinch.
Hayden tries to go around him, and he catches him by his right arm. It seems like he’s about to do the same thing, then he twists Hayden’s arm around until he begins to squirm and lifts him up, chucking him onto one of the tables across the room. His friends scramble to their feet and take off running. Hayden rolls back to his feet, and, with one frightened look at Lutz, takes off after them.
Lutz dusts his hands off like that was nothing and turns back to me. “Are you okay?”
My mouth is now slightly open, and I blink blankly at him. He’s even stronger than Hayden, yet he decided to take my side. If he really wanted to, he could hospitalize me or even kill me. I’m damn lucky he decided not to turn on me.
I shake my head a little, trying to come back to my senses. Lutz smirks. “Never seen that before?”
I cough a little. “N-no. No one ever stands up to Hayden. Hell, no one stands up for me in general. I just—I—”
“Well, that’s gonna change,” he says confidently. “He’s going to jail, where he belongs.”
I reach back and push the door open, turning and slipping outside seconds before the bell rings. He follows, falling into step with me as if we do this every day. Not even a full month into the school year, and I may have accidentally made a friend. Completely accidentally. Maybe my family was wrong.
For most of the walk, he just talks. About himself, about his brother Gilen (who apparently has a sword-and-armor fetish), about his family, about his life. He keeps bringing up something called Christmas, something called Thanksgiving, and something called a birthday party.
Finally he notices my blank look. “What?”
I look away. “Nothing.”
“Don’t you celebrate your birthday?” he asks curiously.
I shift a little. “What do you mean?”
He blinks a little. “Uh…well, usually you have cake or ice cream or pie or whatever, you usually choose what to eat for dinner, and people buy you gifts. Y’know, ‘ hurray, you survived another year ’. It’s all about you and things you like. Sometimes you get to pick a place to go, like if you wanna go ice skating or roller skating or to a park or something. It’s also how you keep track of how old you are.”
“We keep track because our brother reminds us,” I shrug. “He calls on our birthday. But no, I haven’t. We’re barely getting by as is, we don’t have enough money to spare to do that.”
“What about Christmas?”
I bite my lip for a second, then admit quietly, “I don’t know what that is.”
He slows. “Thanksgiving?”
“I’ve heard of it but we never have enough money.”
He releases a slow breath. “Christmas is about gift-giving and being with family. Y’know, you, your brothers, your parents, all together for one day. And you buy eachother things. It could be as small as new socks or shoes or clothing, or as big as a remote-control car or even, if you have enough, a car of your own. And you get a stocking full of small treats like chocolate Santas and Hot Wheels cars. And a lot of people wish for snow because it’s December and it’s cold. Christmas Eve is the twenty-fourth and Christmas Day is the twenty-fifth.”
I give him a blank look. He sighs. “Christmas is important.”
I drop my eyes. “Not enough money. Dad’s not home enough; Mom’s still in Italy; my older brother Seb’s a lawyer so he’s still working that time of year; and Flavio’s usually out with friends all the time.”
He blinks a bit. “Your mom’s still in Italy?”
I shrug. “Tickets are expensive. And she just recently came around.”
He gives me a blank look. I look away. “She’s a bit homophobic like everyone else.”
He grumbles a little in irritation. I shift a bit. “One of my aunts and one of my uncles isn’t. My uncle Elario never was homophobic, and my aunt Allegria decided she didn’t want to be. My grandfather—my namesake—was the only one that just never judged. He was always telling people to ‘ find someone that knocks your socks off and makes you the happiest you can possibly be ’ and not to focus on what gender that person is. He told a few of my cousins that. He told his kids—my mom and her two sisters—that. Not that they all listened, obviously, but he tried.”
He frowns. “He was ? Why do you speak of him in past tense?”
I shift my eyes away. “He died when I was thirteen.”
“How old are you?” he asks curiously.
“Fifteen.”
“Oh.”
For awhile, we’re quiet. But right at the poor edge of the middle class neighborhood next to mine—I’m right smack in the middle of the poor neighborhood—he comes to a stop, rocking back and forth on his feet. He seems a little uneasy.
Finally he speaks. “Your life is shit.”
I cough and flash a quick smile. “You’re just now realizing that? My life is literally the highway to hell, but covered in shit. Every turn there’s another mound of it. My uncle Angelo tried to hit me when I came out and my dad and brothers had to stop him. My uncle Ennio literally tried to rip out my collarbone when I was eight and it scarred.”
I loosen my jacket of my military uniform and pull my clothes away from the scar, just enough he can see it, then I release it again. “My aunt Elnora was constantly threatening to throw me under the bus and tell the church Seb and I were gay. She also did this.”
I pull my gloves off. Scars criss-cross over the fragile skin. I slide them back on. “My grandfather, the first person to actually accept me, died when I was thirteen. I got uprooted from the only home I’d ever known and moved here because of who and what I am. But here, people bully me because I’m Italian, and apparently Italians ‘ can’t drive and are usually drunk ’. They bully me because I’m gay. They bully me because of who my brother is. Then there’s Hayden. I mean, you can guess what he’s doing just from what you saw today. He likes to hit me if I fight back.”
I shrug. “My life is literally just shit, and lots of it. I can’t catch a break. I’m covered in scars from both Hayden and my family. I haven’t eaten in three days because we’re low on money and I haven’t slept in a week. I would’ve slept but Hayden’s getting worse and he knows where I live. I’m always alone because no one likes me so I don’t have anywhere to turn when things get bad. I don’t want to talk to my brothers because they’ll get violent. My dad came here because of my brothers and doesn’t care about me. How much does it take for you to realize why I don’t like people?”
For several minutes, he stands still. He stays silent. It’s almost a thoughtful silence, but an extremely tense and uncomfortable one that neither of us want to break.
Finally he breaks the silence. “I kind of want to kill your family.”
I flash a quick smile and shift a bit. “Mafia. You don’t wanna mess with them.”
“What?”
I roll my eyes. “He’d never admit it, but my uncle Ennio is part of the Mafia. It’s like a gang, but worse. You’d die if you fucked with anyone back home.”
He grits his teeth, then he turns to face me directly again. “Luci.”
“Lucca,” I correct automatically. “If you’re gonna shorten it do it right.”
He closes his eyes for a second. “Lucca.”
For a moment, he doesn’t speak. Then he says quietly, “You deserve better. Hell, you’re fucking gorgeous. Anyone who says otherwise is jealous or selling something. You deserve better.”
I shift a bit. “Deserve is a strange word to use.”
He sighs and opens his eyes. “Lucca, you deserve better. Just because your life’s been hell up to this point doesn’t mean it can’t get better. You can get out of the car on the highway to hell and climb the stairway to Heaven. You’re not screwed. Not yet.”
“I don’t—”
He holds up a hand. “Let me finish.”
My mouth is still open a little, but I fall silent. He sighs. “Lucca…maybe you and your brothers need a little therapy. And I don’t mean conversion therapy, I mean real therapy. But that doesn’t mean you’re too far gone. That doesn’t mean you can never be happy just because you’ve met a lot of assholes. And it certainly doesn’t mean you’re incapable of making friends or having anyone care about you.”
I drop my eyes. He reaches out and takes my hand, this time without permission. “You deserve better. And I mean that—speaking as the son of a doctor and a therapist. Hayden can be taken care of— legally . That’s already gone on for too long. And you’re not alone. Not anymore. Literally nothing you say is gonna convince me to leave. I’m sticking around. So get used to it.”
He squeezes my hand, then drops it. “Seriously, you’re drop-dead gorgeous. Even my brother, as picky as he is about guys, would say the same. Own it.”
I hide my face in my hands. I’ve never been good with compliments, but this is a whole new level. He’s flirting with me and he’s saying he’s gonna stick around because he actually likes me. Even with me being nearly impossible and with all my fucking issues, he wants to stay. That’s a new thing for me.
After a long silence, Flavio’s voice draws me out of my own head. “Lucca?”
I take a deep breath and look up. But I’m too out of it to manage words. He smiles at me and tilts his head to the side, his eyes only flicking to Lutz for a moment. “Are you okay?”
I cough a couple times. “I don’t know. He said we deserve better.”
I nod to Lutz. Lutz smirks. “And that you’re gorgeous.”
I duck my head again. Flavio goes still, similarly affected by the idea of deserving better.
Flavio glances at Lutz. “You hurt my fratello, I hurt you.”
“Fair enough,” Lutz shrugs it off.
“Deserve is a funny word to use,” Flavio says quietly.
“He said the same thing,” Lutz shrugs casually. “But speaking as the son of a doctor and a therapist, and the brother of someone who’s very mentally unstable, I can say that and mean it. Your life’s already been shit. You deserve better. It’s as simple as that.”
“Mentally unstable?” Flavio asks.
Lutz rolls his eyes. “He likes to wear swords and armor and pretend he’s a knight. He uses real swords, too, with sharp blades. He’s cut some of his friends before. It’s not that he doesn’t care, he’s just unstable and unpredictable. His name’s Gilen.”
“You’re new around here, aren’t you?” Flavio asks curiously.
Lutz grins. “We just moved here from Germany a little bit ago, ja. I’m Lutz.”
Flavio blinks, then answers. “Flavio.”
“So you’re his brother,” Lutz says.
Flavio glances at me, then nods. “Sí. Why?”
“They call him knife boy because of you,” Lutz shrugs. “They seem to think he’s scary. I think he’s adorable, but that’s just me. My family desensitized me to most things.”
He runs his fingers over the scars on his arms. “Particularly knives.”
Flavio scoffs and a brief laugh falls from his lips. “I’m not that crazy. I’ve never actually used them. I just carry them with me. He’s just an adorable small child.”
“I’m not small,” I protest, scowling at my brother.
“That’s right, pout your rage out,” Flavio teases, then he smirks at me, ruffles my hair, and slides past us before I can think of a comeback.
“Jerk,” I mutter.
Lutz rolls his eyes. “Yeah, so crazy. They’re just freaking wimpy if they think he’s bad.”
I giggle a little. “Yeah.”
“Hey, that’s better,” he praises, reaching out and ruffling my hair.
I shift just a little so he won’t touch the curl, but I allow the contact. Even just one day, and I already trust him, at least a little. Normally I’d shove people away if they tried to touch me.
He drops his hand back at his side. I leave my hair ruffled, not really awake enough to care.
“You’re fucking a dorable ,” he declares, crossing his arms over his chest.
I glare at him, but I don’t answer. He’s alright, I guess.
He dances his way up the driveway towards the nice-ish house. I sigh, shake my head, and turn for home. At least…if Hayden shows up again tonight…I have somewhere to run. Lutz would never let him do this again. Not again.