Chapter Text
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Everyone was staring. Rightly so, they should stare. She'd been on the news only a few days ago, so surely people recognized her and were curious about her family.
"Man on motorcycle struck by drunk driver in broad daylight", the news anchor said. "Thankfully, he now recovers in his own home after spending nearly a month in Hospital San Gennaro, accompanied by his wife and niece." When the news team came to Aunt Olivia and Uncle Pedro's house, the cameraman was kind enough to ask if Y/N wanted to be filmed. She said she didn't mind, but now, having to walk through the halls on the first day of her final year in high school, nearly a month after the original start date and with her face all over the news, a part of her regretted being seen on TV. But on the other hand, she was proud to stand by her uncle and proud to be recognized as a family girl.
Brushing past students who followed her with their gaze, Y/N heard mumbles echo throughout the school's wide, ancient hallways. "Will the family press charges?" One said. "I heard she's from Canada, can she speak Italian?" whispered another.
Y/N, although staring at her feet and marching forward, wanted to stop and calm everyone's curiosity. As eager as they were to ask her questions, she was twice as eager to give them answers. The thought of people making so many assumptions about her and her family sent a nervous chill down her back. She feared that cliques and inner circles of tightly knit friends would start making up stories about her before she got the chance to even introduce herself. It always happened in the movies. She didn't want this to be like the movies.
"I feel so bad," someone said to her left. "What if her uncle dies because of his injuries?"
The girl, a tall brunette with ribbons in her hair, wore brows that strung together with worry and a school uniform that was two sizes too big for her slender frame. Y/N turned her body to speak to the brunette and caught her attention just as the bell rang, marking the beginning of the final class of the day. They both looked at the speakers and then back at each other. With flushed cheeks and eyes that said, whoops I didn't know you could hear me say that, the girl mumbled a quick "sorry", before swinging her bag over her shoulder and moving into the crowd with her friends.
"It's ok!" Y/N said over the bustle of the hallway. "He'll be fine!" She swore she saw the girl smile back at her, but couldn't lock eyes before the crowd of students swallowed her whole.
If her mom and dad weren't so busy with work back home, they would've come in Y/N's place to look after Pedro and spare their daughter from the flood of questions she'd receive at her new school. It was only her first day and Y/N had already overheard three different students ask if they'd have to speak English so she could understand. The answer was no, but she wouldn't be opposed to talking in her first language. And yet the only words she'd spoken at all that day were asking for directions to the bathroom and reassuring strangers that her uncle wasn't dead.
Y/N snaked her way through the crowd of students, her school uniform—particularly her skirt—catching itself in a zipper every now and then, but that didn't stop her from tugging the material free and making her way to room 301 for Italian History. After a brief walk down the old halls, she pushed out of the jumble of students and through the open door of room 301, but not before triple-checking that she was in the right place. Surprisingly, the room was already bustling with students. With only a few seats left, Y/N moved to the back of the classroom and took up a chair beside a boy whose head was buried in his phone. She dropped her bag at the desk's side as her own phone buzzed in her skirt pocket. She fished out the cool, metal device and flipped open its face to reveal a string of unread texts.
Echo: (3 new messages)
She opened the messages and scanned the text that sat on the screen.
(1:34 pm)
Echo: How's the fast day goin'?
Echo: **first
Echo: Made any friends :)
From the corner of her eye, Y/N watched as the teacher entered the room and began sorting papers on his desk. Class was about to start, but she hadn't texted Echo all day. Her fingers moved quickly as she sent back a message, hoping that the teacher wouldn't mind a quick text or two before class began.
(1:36 pm)
Me: No new friends yet :(
Me: But everyone seems nice! Maybe just worried about my uncle
Y/N planned to set her phone down, but another string of texts came through.
(1:37 pm)
Echo: I heard you were on the news but I musta missed yuh bc I haven't seen anything about ur uncle or family...
Echo: Maybe cuz I'm up north in Milan :(
Echo: Good that people are being nice
Echo: I'll fight them for you if you need me to... >:)
Y/N giggled to herself just as the teacher began to speak. Her head shot up and then back down to her phone as Mr. Russo introduced himself to the class. She typed quickly, jamming her fingers into the keys before tucking the phone back into her pocket.
(1:38 pm)
Me: Ur the best ;)
Me: Class is starting, gtg
Me: ttyl :D
Y/N felt her phone buzz against her thigh but ignored it. She would have all the time in the world after school to text Echo. The boy to her left also put his phone away, practically tossing it into the opening of his pants pocket. He sighed grandly, yawning loudly enough for Mr. Russo to stop talking. Everyone waited as he then made a show of throwing his arms up into the air and letting them fall behind his head. Class had just begun and he already fit the part of exhausted perfectly.
"Are you done, Marcello?" Mr. Russo asked the boy.
Without saying a word, the boy nodded once and Mr. Russo began to speak again.
Y/N glanced to her side, trying to catch of glimpse of this kid, and as she did, she felt her eyes go wide as she took in the ink that she hadn't noticed before. Only trying to see what the boy's face looked like, Y/N found that he, a lean and slender thing, had tattoos that crept up his arm and disappeared into the sleeve of his dress shirt. He wore the school uniform lazily, with his tie in a messy clump and collar partially flipped up, almost like he didn't know how to dress himself. The epitome of rebellion in every high school movie ever sat at her side. She'd always thought the stereotype to be stupid. Nobody actually dressed and looked like the "school rebel". But this boy did. Not in the way that he'd start a fight, but in the way that he'd have no problem spray painting the bathroom and debating the teacher on the most mundane of things. And just as Y/N began to turn her eyes elsewhere, afraid that he might catch her staring, his head turned to face hers.
The boy's greyish eyes locked with Y/N's and he smiled. "I'm Marcello," he said.
"I heard. I'm Y/N," she replied cautiously, trying to be quiet to not disturb the class she was supposed to be paying attention to.
"I know," Marcello replied. "I saw you on the news."
Y/N smiled a silent end to their short conversation and faced the front of the room. But from the corner of her eye, she felt Marcelo's gaze stationed on the side of her face. He didn't look away, even as the class stretched on and Y/N did her best to ignore his curious eyes.
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Class ended much faster than Y/N imagined. History was supposed to be boring but Italian History was quite interesting. Shoving her notebook and pens into her bag, Y/N stood the moment that the bell rang to dismiss her.
"Have you spoken to Mr. Russo about the assignment," Marcello said as he stood, packing his untouched notebook and pencils into his bag.
"Assignment?" Y/N repeated. Mr. Russo hadn't talked about an assignment all period, but she figured since she was so late coming into the school year, there definitely must be some work she's missed out on completing.
Marcello must've read the confusion on her face because he quickly clarified, "Yeah, in pairs or groups of three we have to create a poster outlining a specific year in Italian history. I'm guessing you haven't talked to Russo about it so you can be in my group."
Before she could react, Y/N watched Marcello march to the front of the class and say something to Mr. Russo. From behind his round glasses, the stout teacher glanced to Y/N who stood frozen in place—slightly confused and mostly surprised—and gave her a thumbs up before sending Marcello back to his desk to pack up for the day.
"You're in my group now." He announced. "My buddy and I are working on research after school at the park for this project. Better to get it done now than later because I don't wanna be stuck working on this crap next week. Wanna join us?"
Y/N stood silently for a moment baffled at how she'd just been plopped in Marcelo's group without her own approval and signed up for work she might've not even had to do. But after the dark-haired boy cleared his throat and shook Y/N out of her thoughts, she scooped up her bag and said, "I'm sorry, Marcello. I'm quite busy tonight."
"Oh yeah. Sorry about that. I hope your uncle feels better." His head tipped down as he made his way around the desk by Y/N quickly corrected him.
"Oh no, no. I'm not busy because I'm taking care of my uncle! He's quite alright, and my aunt helps him in the evenings. So don't worry. I just promised a friend I'd hang out with him."
Marcello's frown seemed to deepen when Y/N mentioned that her friend was a he and she promptly regretted telling him the truth. Maybe Marcello was just upset because he'd just given her a spot on his team only for her to promptly reject his offer to hang out and study. He gave her a small wave and turned toward the door, ending their second all-too-short conversation.
Y/N gave him a wave when his back was to her and watched as he sauntered out of the room. Well now I can't leave, she thought. If we see each other in the hall it'll be awkward!
Fishing her phone from her pocket, Y/N decided to text Echo while she waited a solid five minutes before leaving the room. Five minutes was enough time for a guy as tall as Marcello to at least make it to the first floor. Long legs travel fast. With only herself and the company of Echo's messages left in the class, Y/N sat on her newly claimed desk and opened her phone.
Echo: (5 new messages)
(1:40 pm)
Echo: You know it shortcake ;)
Echo: Lemme know how it goes
(2:15 pm)
Echo: Hey loser, so sry but I have to cancel tonight's meet-up
Echo: Got called into work :(
Echo: Same time tomorrow tho???
Y/N typed as she ran, sliding off her desk and hustling into the hallway to catch up with Marcello. With perfect timing, it seemed that she had a chance at making a friend—albeit a strange friend—on the first day of school. Echo teased that it would take at least a week of warming up to people before she made a solid friend with how quiet she can be at times, but now that her night was free, she could rub her new friendship in his face when they called next.
(2:33 pm)
Me: All good! Hope work goes well :D
Me: We'll have to play twice as long to make up for missing out today hehe ~
Y/N marched out the door and turned into the hallway to see the boy with ink-covered arms still lingering in the hallway. I guess long legs don't travel fast, she thought. "Marcello!" Y/N called a little louder than she intended. The boy flipped his long hair out from his face and turned, still frowning as he peered down at her. Man, he really is tall, she thought before saying, "I'm free tonight if you still wanna work on the project. Plans got canceled."
Marcello smirked and waved for Y/N to follow as he began sauntering further down the hall.
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Blue (2 new messages)
(2:33 pm)
Blue: All good! Hope work goes well :D
Blue: We'll have to play twice as long to make up for missing out today hehe ~
Echo closed his phone and slid the cold metal into his back pocket. He was rightfully pissed that he had to cancel the campaign he and Blue had been planning for the past week. But duties called and he simply couldn't say no to work.
"How many more do we have?" He grumbled to the boy sitting to his left.
"You always get mega pissed when you can't hang out with your girlfriend, dude," the boy said, outright ignoring his question.
"She's not my girlfriend. She's just a friend. And I'm not pissed at that, I'm pissed that you couldn't handle such a simple mission by yourself." He huffed a sigh and leaned deeper into the seat. The car rumbled as they drove further out of the city.
"Don't be a dick," said a voice from the driver's seat. The strawberry blonde clenched the wheel as he stared back at Echo from the rearview mirror. Echo merely glared at the purple-blue eyes that looked back at him, too salty to admit that he was in fact upset that he couldn't spend his only free night this week destroying dungeons with Blue_V1per. He didn't know how to tell her that he couldn't join for a game tomorrow night either. He didn't even know why he offered to play with her when he was so busy with work.
"Plus," said the boy beside him, knees resting against the back of the driver's seat, "we all know that this is a three-man job. No way one of us could clear that drug house on our own." The boy's freckled face lit up with triumph when Echo's shoulders slumped.
After a moment of silence, the car began to slow. The freckle-faced boy opened the door before the car could even pull to a stop, rolling into a dirt driveway that led to a seemingly abandoned house just outside of Naples. The smallest and most eager was halfway up the driveway when Echo stepped out of the car along with the strawberry-haired driver.
"Four more of these," said the driver looking to Echo. "Four drug houses and then Bucciarati wants us back for dinner."
Echo rolled his eyes. Not at his boss wanting them back for dinner, or at the fact that he and his team had to clear out a drug house, but at the number.
"Get your gun ready dude!" The freckled boy yelled from far ahead, clearly giving away their position. "I can smell a lot of dumb ass over here! It seems like we've got plenty of target practice," he exclaimed brightly.
Echo sighed, loading six bullets into the chamber of his gun— a purple pistol that always sat against his belt and in the crook of his pants. The blonde began walking onwards, not waiting for the gunslinger to prepare his rounds. A lil’ target practice never hurts, he thought sarcastically.
He tapped his back pocket to make sure his phone was still on him before stalking down the baren driveway.
“This’ll be fun.”
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To be continued...
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