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It was early morning, the sun hardly having even kissed the sky yet. A few lone stars still twinkled above, pushing their limits and blurring the boundary between night and day.
The Basilica loomed dark and imposing against the slowly lightening sky. But all was quiet, and when Ryker blinked, its form didn’t shift or warp. They let out a relieved breath they hadn’t realized they’d been holding.
When they trekked through the history hall and stepped out into the courtyard, they could hear the chorusing song of birds as they awoke to the sun, the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Their footsteps crunched softly against the eroding brickwork underfoot, muted in some places where grass and moss had started to overtake the stone completely.
They had searched the main church fairly thoroughly at this point, but they felt inclined to return to it anyway, to walk down the carpeted nave up to the foot of the sanctuary. Their eyes slowly travelled upwards, flicking between the painting of Diana and Endymion and the one of Christ in the center. The light of dawn was starting to shine through the grand stained glass windows, casting colourful abstractions upon them as they stood upon the carpeted transept.
They looked back the way they’d come, down the rows of pews. It was a mess, certainly, but beneath the piles of garbage and clutter, everything still looked to be in fairly decent shape. It was easy to imagine what this place might have looked like when it was still in operation, with the nave cleared of aged and rotting books and the pews full of people rather than cardboard boxes. They turned back to the sanctuary once more. The choir would have likely been situated before them, to the right. They could almost hear their soaring voices filling the room, echoing hauntingly into the high ceilings.
It had been so long since they’d attended a proper church service, now that they thought about it. They hadn’t really felt the urge since…
Well.
The pain that accompanied every memory, every flash of his face in their mind’s eye, seemed just as fresh now as it did the day they’d held his limp and lifeless body in their arms. And it was getting harder and harder to fend off the thoughts of him. They seemed intent to crowd in as soon as they had a single moment of quiet to themself.
Leon’s presence was left in traces all over the Basilica. Ryker couldn’t so easily forget that photo of him with a group of priests and nuns in that strange underground graveyard. Then there was the framed photograph of him that Ryker had found after escaping the hell of the catacombs. The polaroids that had mysteriously appeared scattered about the upper corridors.
He hadn’t simply been a resident of this Basilica, if the evidence Ryker had found was believed to be legitimate; he seemed imprinted upon it, written into the stonework of its foundation.
Why hadn’t he ever said anything about it?
Ryker could feel their chest tightening with emotion, their face flushed and hot, and their eyes prickling with the threat of unshed tears. They slowly sank onto the steps leading to the sanctuary. They felt unwilling to step up inside, even though it’s not as if anyone would chastise them for it.
For some reason they thought of what Vittorino had said to them.
That they were shrouded in sin. That they didn’t deserve sanctuary.
Ryker sniffed indignantly at the memory, the ache in their gums coming into focus as the priest’s maniacal laughter echoed in their head. Who gave a damn what that psycho priest thought of them? He was a lunatic, who had admitted to not even believing in God himself. What good was his word?
But they remained seated on the steps.
They gave a huff of a sigh, pulling their bag into their lap and absentmindedly looking through it, taking silent inventory of the items they’d collected since they’d arrived in Rosso Cadere. Leon’s Bible was still there — thank God — and Ryker couldn’t help lingering on it for a moment, their fingers grazing over the aged leather cover and stroking idly up the spine. Their vision grew blurry as a tear formed in their right eye, falling onto the book’s cover as they blinked. They wiped at their eyes impatiently, feeling their ears burn from embarrassment — hadn’t they cried over Leon enough at this point?
They pushed the Bible aside, mentally taking note of everything else. The papers, the letters, the polaroids, the rosary…
There was a large box underneath the Bible that Ryker didn’t immediately recognize.
Oh– it was the music box that the blue key had been taped to. They pulled it out curiously, turning it in their hands. It really was a beautiful little thing; painted the deepest ocean blue and trimmed in gold. Unlike most of the items they’d picked up in the Basilica, it didn’t show any signs of age — no rust or grime, no peeling paint. Perhaps someone else visiting the Basilica had lost it here — there’s no way it could have sat under that bed for twelve years without any sort of disintegration.
Unless…
They pushed the beginning of that thought aside. They didn’t want to think about him.
They pried open the lid of the music box. It was rather simple inside, a little figurine posed in the middle, and a mirror built into the inside of the lid. Someone had filled some of the empty spaces inside with rocks; they didn’t seem special in any sort of way — small and smooth but otherwise unremarkable.
They turned the key on the side a few times, holding the music box in their hands as the figurine in the middle started to spin. The first few notes were a little slow to start, a little distorted as the gears shifted into motion. But the tune quickly hit its tempo, and a sweet chiming song filled the silence of the room. For the first few moments, the melody sang out by itself, but as the primary motif began to repeat, a gentle harmony joined it. The two voices intertwined and weaved together, creating a beautiful tapestry of nostalgia as their paths overlapped. The sound was bittersweet, and Ryker couldn’t help but think of Leon again.
He would have loved to hear it. He would have played it the moment Ryker had first found it, would have made them stop their searching to listen to it with him. He would have sat them both down on the floor as it played, his eyes closed and listening intently in silence until it had concluded. Leon had always savoured music like that, had always said he liked to feel it soaking into his body, feel it moving his spirit. Ryker could feel themself doing the same unconsciously, shutting out the world around them so that they could focus solely on the song.
Tears were forming in Ryker’s eyes again, and this time they didn’t try to stop them from falling, squeezing their eyes so that they ran in gentle rivers down their cheeks.
God, they missed him. God, it was so fucking hard being surrounded by ghosts of him here in the Basilica. Despite the beautiful music filling their ears, the darkness before their eyes was only filled with images of the gory mess that had once been his face, and the weight of the music box suddenly seemed to grow heavier, the imprinted weight of his corpse lying in their arms.
They let out a soft sob at the memory, their fingers tightening around the box in their hands. Their eyes opened slowly, met with the pleasantly spinning figurine in the music box. The sight of it was only a momentary relief however, as a flicker of movement beyond it caught their attention. They started in shock as they raised their head, their eyes widening.
Before them stood Vittorino.
He looked like shit, but that shouldn’t have been surprising considering the damage he’d incurred from Leon’s Bible. Old blood stained the front of his cassock from when it had been pouring from his eye sockets, but his face had since been cleaned of it. His eyes were shockingly still intact, though his pupils had faded to a ghostly white. He wasn’t looking at Ryker or even at the music box, but somewhere behind them, unable to focus on the source of the sound.
Ryker stumbled back against the steps, clumsily getting to their feet. They weren’t sure whether Vittorino was a threat in his current state, but after all the shit he’d put them through, they weren’t about to be caught off guard.
“H-hey! Back off! I told you, I can’t leave yet, I still—”
“Shut it!” Vittorino’s voice carried eerily through the church, ringing in Ryker’s ears. “You’re ruining it.”
Ryker froze in place, half-kneeling, half-standing with one hand planted on the top step and their legs straddling two more. The music box’s tune continued to play out into the silence that fell between them. Ryker eyed Vittorino warily as Vittorino swayed slightly in place, unseeing eyes flicking about uncertainly. Ryker found themself thankful that at least he wouldn’t be able to see their discoloured and tear-stained face — they’d let this freakish priest see enough of their tears, as far as they were concerned.
Their standoff continued until the music box slowly ground to a stop, its last few dragging notes ugly and distorted, only adding to the growing tension in the room.
A beat passed.
Vittorino spoke again, his voice low and rough. “Play it again.”
Ryker’s brows furrowed, and they remained posed in their awkward half-stance. They didn’t know what the hell Vittorino was playing at, but he at least didn’t seem aggressive. For now — there was a chance that defying him would get him riled up, and Ryker certainly didn’t want to find themself on the receiving end of his fury again. If there was any way they could placate him, it was probably worth a try.
They lowered themself back down onto the steps, moving slowly and cautiously, as though they were faced with a wild animal. They turned the key on the music box, and the song started again.
Vittorino seemed to visibly relax, the tension leaving his shoulders and the crease in between his eyebrows smoothing out. He stood there for the first loop of the song, simply swaying back and forth in time with the beat, his expression serenely blank. When the tune faded, only to surge back to life a moment later, the priest took a step forward.
Ryker tensed at his movement, biting at the inside of their lip and watching intently as he slowly made his way closer, his footsteps small and shuffling, careful and uncertain. The toe of one shoe hit the bottom step and Vittorino stopped, only mere feet away from them to their left.
Ryker unconsciously held their breath, unsure of what to expect — it’s not as if this priest seemed to operate within the realm of reason. Should they be ready for a fight? Ready to flee?
The song continued ringing out between them, jarringly out of time with the jack-hammering pace of their heart in their chest. And still, they stubbornly held their breath, afraid that even the faintest whisper of their lungs might alert him to their exact location.
Vittorino collapsed — or at least he appeared to, seating himself upon the steps beside them so suddenly and clumsily that it made Ryker jump and instinctively inch back a bit. He was a couple steps below the one Ryker was seated on, but he was certainly close enough that if he reached out, he would be able to touch their leg, maybe even their waist.
But Vittorino made no such move, simply sprawling out along the steps in a manner that hardly looked comfortable, his head resting on the step below the one Ryker was seated upon. This close up, Ryker could smell the distinct reek of weed on him, see that his unseeing eyes were bloodshot and that his breathing was a little uneven.
Of course he was wandering around not only blind, but high as a kite.
“Again,” he said suddenly.
Ryker hadn’t noticed that the music box had stopped.
They turned the key, tipping their head curiously to watch Vittorino’s face as they did. His expression remained stoic and unchanging, evidently concentrating hard on the tune playing out around them.
“I knew someone who liked music boxes,” Vittorino said suddenly.
For a moment, Ryker didn’t even know how to respond. The statement was so out of the blue, and so… mundane. Was Vittorino just spouting off the first inane thought that entered his head, or was he actually trying to start a conversation?
The idea was so ridiculous that Ryker couldn’t help but to let out a reflexive laugh, managing to muffle it into a rough scoff on its way out.
Vittorino’s expression changed at the sound, his brows furrowing indignantly. He turned his head upwards to the direction of the music box, clearly trying to pin Ryker in a glare, but the effect was weakened by the fact that he was glaring somewhere over their right shoulder.
“Sorry,” Ryker said softly, a little amused at Vittorino’s rather put-out reaction. “I didn’t think I’d ever have something in common with you.”
Vittorino snorted through his nose irritably, clearly not convinced by Ryker’s apology.
“You think I don’t know you stole that?” Vittorino said instead, his expression still hardened and his tone laced with annoyance.
Ryker stiffened a bit at that, pursing their lips uncertainly. But Vittorino didn’t move to grab at them or the music box, and after a tense few moments, Ryker felt themself start to relax. Whether it was the drugs or the persisting melody of the music box, Vittorino seemed docile enough that they could at least allow themself to breathe a little more easily.
When Ryker didn’t respond, Vittorino let out a gusty sigh. “Whatever. I don’t want it.”
Silence fell over them once more as they listened to the bittersweet tune reach its conclusion. Vittorino’s eyes had fluttered closed, his breathing evening out a bit. Ryker hesitated for a moment, then restarted the song again.
They found their gaze falling back to Vittorino as the harmony rejoined the melody once more. This was the closest they’d been to him without it being some sort of struggle; once to attempt to escape him ripping out their goddamn teeth, and once to force Vittorino’s eye under their mouth so that they could spit into it. Neither of them pleasant experiences to say the least, and neither of them granting them the opportunity to actually… look at him.
He looked oddly frail like this, sprawled out across the steps like a wounded animal. Stripped of his impressive height and his intimidating presence, what stood out most was the deep dark circles painted under his eyes, and the way his cheekbones cut roughly through his pale, sallow skin.
Ryker leaned forward a bit, peering a little closer. He almost looked… ill. And they supposed that only made sense, living in a hellish place like this, presumably alone.
Twelve years? Had he said it had been twelve years since it had closed?
What a terrifying thought. Ryker had only been on their own for a year now — a year that felt like centuries and mere moments all at once — and they had often felt they were at their wit’s end. Waking suddenly in the middle of the night, only to be met with the sight of an empty closet of a hostel room instead of the familiar nylon walls of Leon’s tent. A unfamiliar and cold cage compared to the comforting fortress Leon had built for them, separating them from whatever unknown lay outside its walls.
Those were the moments they felt the loneliness the most — when they awoke with their heart in their throat and their chest wound up so tight they could hardly breathe. The absence of him — his body warming theirs as he pulled them close, his hand stroking their head and his whispered prayer grounding them back into reality — stabbed like a knife into them, tears pouring like blood from the wound it carved into them.
They had prayed to God reflexively, taking up Leon’s habit in his place. But God never seemed to answer; not in any way that mattered.
They remembered what Vittorino had said, about being abandoned by God.
Did he ever feel lonely, too?
Their hand rested lightly upon Vittorino’s head, gently stroking through fine strands of blonde hair. It was greasy at the roots, but otherwise softer than it appeared. They absentmindedly moved their hand in time with the music, preoccupied with their thoughts.
It was only when they happened to look back down at Vittorino’s face that they saw his eyes had snapped open, staring blankly into space.
Their hand froze.
And at some point, the music had stopped.
Shit—
Ryker snatched their hand back to their side like it had been burned, their body flooded with a wave of cold adrenaline. They gripped the sides of the music box like it was a lifeline, their breath shallow and their body tensed, waiting in horror for Vittorino to react.
It felt like ages before the priest’s eyelids fell closed once more. Ryker, however, did not relax.
“Play it again.”
Ryker had been afraid he would be angry at their thoughtless gesture. Offended, even.
Instead, he simply sounded exhausted.
“And by the time it ends, you had better be gone.”
There was no arguing with that. Ryker had pushed their luck long enough as it was. They had been lucky that Vittorino had appeared in such a vulnerable state — it likely wouldn’t happen again. They gathered their legs under them, rising slowly to their feet and holding the music box awkwardly to their chest, looking down at the man lying before them and trying desperately not to feel a pang of pity for him.
They bent down once more to rest the music box near one of his hands, pushing it up against one of his fingers so that he would— oh. Right, he didn’t have nerves in his fingers. He wouldn’t know it was there.
But it was the best Ryker could do. They obediently turned the key and the song played again. They straightened up, and saw Vittorino give a sigh that flattened his chest and made his shoulders fall, expelling all the breath from his body. A sigh of relief, or one of defeat — Ryker wasn’t sure.
But it wasn’t their problem either. Vittorino had been clear with his request, and Ryker had unfinished business of their own. Without another look back, Ryker made their way down the nave, their footsteps cushioned by faded red and gold carpet. As they made their way back into the narthex, the chiming tune of the music box sang out behind them, slowly fading with each step.