Chapter Text
"Sea monster!"
Alberto Scorfano knew heartbreak. He was no stranger to it. Maybe he never really understood what it meant in turns of romantic feeling until that fateful moment on the shore, but he understood it well enough to know that was what he was feeling. He was twelve years old whenever his old man decided it would be best if he just up and left. Alberto was never easy to take care of; his overactive imagination and constant hunger for adventure left him a liability and a huge responsibility. Some people were just not cut out to be parents, and, unfortunately for Alberto, his father had realized that twelve years too late. Maybe if the young sea monster had been less rambunctious; maybe less excitable or talkative or obsessive over the things he held dear... maybe his Pops would've stayed. If only he didn't ruin everything.
The boy swallowed, agony tightening its grip around his throat. "Luca?"
Was that... regret in his friend's eyes? Was that hurt? Alberto only had a moment to try and decipher it before Ercole Visconti and his cronies were racing towards them, shouting and pointing and threatening him.
"Get back!" Giulia suddenly ordered, grabbing a nearby log and shoving it towards the monster. Alberto sank back, his heart shattering in his chest. He turned, still completely in shock, and began making his way under the waves that pushed against his body back towards the shore, as if trying to force him to face the situation being offered to him. He wouldn't; he refused, and the only time he looked back was whenever Luca let out a strangled:
"No!"
Alberto looked over his shoulders, his eyes shining with betrayal and pure, unfiltered anguish. Three harpoons plummeted into the waves by his body, none of them piercing his skin. With that, the sea monster made his leave, swimming as quickly as he could back towards the island he had finally been able to escape. His mind flashed with memories he would've once loved to recall, only now they teased him and mocked him; He was never yours. He never cared. It was all a ploy. You messed it all up. It's your fault, Alberto. It always was.
The young boy cried, although his tears were lost to the ocean, and he had halfheartedly dragged himself back to the island. His tears left tracks of light purple scales on his cheeks even after he'd dried off and returned to human form. His clothes felt tighter and colder as they clasped his skin, sticking to his form. The grass was itchy and prickly. The wind was howling and the sun was stuck in this weird awkward position between remaining above water and peering at the boy; seemingly to make fun of him. Alberto screwed his eyes shut, collapsing back to his knees before he even made it all the way up the hill and back to his home. His lungs felt smaller as his heart sped up, and seething rage overpowered all of the pain and hurt and insufferable depression he'd just been subjected to. He wrapped his hands around his center, trying to calm himself down as his breathing sped up and his eyes blurred. A few miserable sobs would escape the boy's lips as he hugged himself, attempting to steady his breathing and prevent himself from completely breaking down and having an anxiety attack. He hated this feeling; having his heart broken. He'd finally found someone; his person, and just when they were about to get away from this mess of a life he'd-
Alberto cried out loud, totally unashamed and totally unaware of the world around him. His limbs were trembling violently, and his muscles felt like jelly. The air around him was practically nonexistent, and he knew it wouldn't help if he went back underwater. It would probably make everything worse, in fact. His abdomen was still bruised over from the sickening alleyway mix-up he'd gotten into just a week before, and the thought made him feel sick. Oh, God, he'd been so selfish. Everything had to be what he wanted. Everything had to be how he saw it. No wonder Luca left. No wonder Luca did what he did.
You deserve it, you deserve all of it.
"I-I know, I kn-know..." Alberto sobbed to himself, clasping his ears with both hands. "I-I deserve th-this, I-I know I d-do-"
A hand was on his shoulder. The boy's eyes snapped open and he whirled around, wiping his eyes. Bruno stood there, absolutely still for only a moment before grabbing his son by the collar of his tank top and lifting him off the ground. This isn't real, Alberto reminded himself. He saw this a lot, especially when he was sleeping. The only times this memory hadn't flashed up was when he was sleeping right next to... Luca. When he was with Luca, everything had been okay. He had messed it all up. He'd ruined it.
"Get out, Alberto."
"But, Papa, per favore," the boy begged as his father shoved him back to the ground, "I could help! I'm good at making things-"
"You're no good at making things, Alberto. Now let me work, will you? Dio Mio..."
Alberto frowned, his heart thudding slightly slower than before. He was ten years old, here. He could remember that much. Bruno Scorfano was never much of an empathetic person. He worked on his own stuff and worried about nothing else. Half of the time when Alberto was out playing alone, he'd hear his father grunt or curse or growl and then a sudden crash that made him jolt. Hours would pass without either man saying anything to one another, and Alberto would often have to hunt for his own food in the dark waters that surrounded the island. He always made sure to find something extra for his father, because even though as a ten-year-old child who knew his father hated him, he couldn't bring himself to hate the older man back. That took up too much energy, and Alberto would rather push that energy towards something that he was passionate about; something that gave him joy.
He was twelve, now, he believed as the memories continued to swarm around his head.
"You're always gone!" the young boy snarled, throwing his hands up in the air as Bruno stepped towards the large opening in the broken lighthouse, looking down at the makeshift ladder. "You're never around, Papa! At least bring me with you, this time! I'm old enough to help you out. To take care of myself out there. You wouldn't have to worry about-"
"See, that's what you don't understand, Alberto!" Bruno roared, whipping around to face his son. Alberto shrank back, but his dad reached out, shoving him roughly against his handcrafted desk and causing his son to cut his arm against the jagged edge. Alberto yelped, reaching for the scratch that was bleeding before Bruno picked him up by the collar once again. "I always have to worry about you! I always have to make sure you're safe, or that you haven't hurt yourself, or that you aren't doing anything completely idiotic! I'm done, kid. I've been done for a long time. You stay here, you hear me, and don't even think of following me." He pressed his son against the brick wall, his bright green eyes churning with an animalistic rage that Alberto hadn't even seen in the most ferocious of sea monsters. "You are old enough to be on your own, you hear me? And if you wanna act like a fucking idiot all the time, always getting hurt, you do that! But I'll tell ya one thing, son, nobody's gonna want someone like you. Your mother didn't, and I sure as hell never did. You're always a monster, a little creatine no matter how you look." Breathing hard, Bruno dropped his son to the floor, and the shaking child gripped his arm tightly, staring up at his father in confusion and fear. "Because in the end, son, you always ruin everything."
Alberto jerked awake, coughing the saliva that had congregated in the back of his throat out of his system. He hadn't remembered any time passing, or even getting up to the top of the lighthouse, but here he was, an absolute mess, lying lonely under the fish. He sat up, looking around. Apparently, during his flashback he'd started a fire; its gentle crackling being the only thing to bring the boy comfort. He swallowed, standing to his feet and wobbling over to the stone stairs that led into the inside of the lighthouse. Horrified, he looked at the mess that lay below him. It seemed as though a tornado had trashed the entire place; nothing was in its place. That stupid Vespa poster was torn from the wall, lying limp on the ground and revealing Alberto's plethora of markings. He looked away, tears bridging his eyes. That was when he noticed his drawing in the middle of the floor, ripped clean in two, the light of the Big Fish illuminating its presence, making it seem bigger. Alberto huffed, sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest at the top of the stairs, wiping his eyes free of new tears and resting his head in the crevice created by his legs and arms. He could feel the warmth of the fire spread up his back, and he welcomed its comfort. That was all he had in that very moment, the fire. Nothing else. Nobody else.
"Alberto?" a quiet voice from below asked timidly. The boy's skin prickled with rage. Why was he here? After everything that had happened, why on earth was Luca here? He glanced down, noticing that Luca was kneeling over the ripped drawing of the two of them, gently pushing the pieces back together. Alberto huffed.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice cold and condescending. Luca perked up, standing to his feet in order to face his friend.
"I..." he started, suddenly unaware of what to say. "I'm sorry."
Alberto looked away, his eyes narrowed into slits.
"I never should've done that. I wish I could take it back."
"Yeah, whatever. You're sorry, now just go away." Alberto stood up, turning on his heel and storming back towards the fire, out of Luca's field of view. He sat huddled in front of the flames, holding his knees close once again. His muscles trembled and locked into place. Luca didn't appear from within the lighthouse until a few moments later, and the first words out of his mouth were:
"Alberto? What are those marks on the wall?"
Alberto didn't answer, his frown sinking even more and he shifted where he sat.
"Tell me what they mean."
Alberto considered this for a moment; at first, of course, he didn't want to say anything. He didn't want Luca here, his rage and sadness were getting in the way of him actually processing his emotions. Nothing that was happening was fair. Nothing had been fair. Then again, Luca sounded genuine. He sounded worried. Concerned. He sounded like he cared. Alberto sniffled, hating himself for the words he was about to say. "I started when my dad left."
Silence. For only a breath.
"You've been living here alone for... that many days?"
"I just stopped counting after a while." Alberto's heart clenched in his chest. "He said I was old enough to be on my own. I guess I just thought that... maybe he'd change his mind." He had to remind himself to breathe. "Honestly, though, I get it. He's better off without me. You are, too."
"That's not true." Luca's reply was instant.
"Yes, it is. You're not like me. You're the good kid." The tears were steadily returning to his eyes. "And I'm just the kid that... ruins everything."
"Silenzio, Bruno. That's just the dumb voice in your head. You taught me that. And getting a Vespa? Seeing the world?"
"Just let it go, okay? Look, you and I should've never been friends in the first place!"
"Don't say that. Alberto-"
The boy felt a hand on his shoulder and he gasped, attempting to fight it off himself before he was turned around. Luca was right there, staring at him with those big brown eyes. He looked absolutely devastated, and looking at Alberto's disheveled state, it was obvious that feeling only got worse. Alberto grabbed Luca's wrists with his hands, his heart thudding in his chest. He was going to make a move to push the boy away, but he didn't. Fresh tears slipped down his cheeks and he fought off a sob. Luca was perfect. He was the perfect kid. The perfect person. The perfect friend. The perfect-
With a trembling hand, Luca moved to rest his palm against Alberto's cheek, thumbing away the tears and smiling gently at the scale marks they left behind. "Please," he whispered carefully. "Don't say that. Never say that." Before Alberto could even attempt to answer, Luca leaned in, pressing their lips together in a hesitant way that showed his true innocence. Alberto nearly choked, his face growing red and his tears drying almost instantly. Luca brought his arms around the boy's neck, situating his form so that his legs were hugging Alberto's middle, and he was holding onto the older boy for dear life. Alberto couldn't bring himself to believe what was happening, but before he got the chance to react, Luca was already pulling away, resting his face in the crook of the older boy's neck. "I messed up. I did something I never should've done, and I won't ever be able to take it back. Alberto, you... you mean the world to me, and I'm s-so, so sorry that I caused this whole mess."
"You didn't," Alberto responded, finally resting his chin on Luca's shoulder and wrapping his arms around the boy's form. "I... was stupid, a-and jealous. I thought that... maybe Giulia was trying to... take you away. I thought you'd found someone better, and that you'd leave me. I guess I just thought... maybe... m-maybe if I c-could convince you we didn't need anyone e-else... you'd... you wouldn't... leave me..."
Luca sobbed, holding Alberto tighter (if that was even possible). The whole situation was completely fucked up. They were children. They'd found one another and developed their friendship into something completely unique and beautiful, and the world wanted to try and ruin it with stupid circumstances and volatile emotions. It wasn't fair, but Alberto already knew that. "I'd never leave you," the young boy whimpered, sniffling. "You matter to me."
Alberto's eyes widened. He couldn't believe it. He had never heard those words spoken so genuinely before. His father never verbally said it, and even if he had, it wouldn't have been true, so it didn't matter. His mother was gone before he even learned how to swim/walk, and for the rest of his life, he was practically alone. He kissed the side of Luca's face briefly before resting his head in its original position again, butterflies fluttering around in his stomach. "You matter to me, too."