Chapter Text
”Try to get some sleep, Nero.”, his father suggested, “I will be fine in the morning.” But he wasn’t. In fact, he was worse than the day before and the nine-year-old boy knew because his father wasn’t awake by the crack of dawn as he usually was. He wasn’t outside, practicing with his sword nor was he making breakfast. No, he was still in bed by the time the sun started coming through the curtains, barely even moving save for rattling breaths. Nero slipped out from under his blanket and walked over to where his father was resting. He carefully tried to shake him awake but only got a muttering response and a shoulder turning away from the tiny hand placed on it.
Unsure of what he was supposed to do next, the boy simply pushed a chair next to the bed and sat on it, waiting. Waiting and waiting, waiting for his father to wake up and be fine. By late noon that still hadn’t happened. Nero had noticed the pearls of sweat on his father’s forehead and had gotten up from his watch a few times to get a cold rag from the bathroom. The sun was beginning to set and there was no sign that his father was going to wake up soon. Nero really didn’t know what to do now. The night passed in almost complete silence.
The following day, nothing had changed. His father didn’t wake up for sword practice or the breakfast Nero had managed to make him, he didn’t move whenever a new cold rag was placed on his face or his son tried to wake him. Another day passed like this, and another and another and another.
By the time, his father had been asleep for a whole week, Nero was scared that he was never going to wake up again. He didn’t want that, he didn’t want that at all! He wanted his father back! The boy scrambled from his chair to the backpack where they always stored their important stuff, his toys and his father’s books. Nero rummaged through their possessions until he got a hold of a small black notebook and flipped it open. There on the first page, in neat handwriting, was an address. His father had told him – made him promise – that if anything ever happened to him, if he could no longer be there for him, Nero was supposed to go to this address and explain to the owner that he was Nero, son of Vergil, and he would get all the help he needed. And that was what he needed right now, help. He quietly put his coat on and stored the notebook inside. Nero took one last look at his father, still sleeping, before he slipped out of the door and into the rain.