Chapter Text
There was a tug at the corner of his mind, a meager whisper suggesting its presence within his dreamless state. Soft as it always was, beckoning for him to follow, it was barely audible. The diction was hazy, and there was no proof of it ever existing–still, the mere idea attracted him like a moth to the flame. No matter where or how he spoke, Luca had to hurry to his side.
There was no question about it.
Like an orbit in search of its center, Luca had found his home.
There was no doubt about it.
And who was he to deny his call? Their separation was cruel enough, but the loss beneath ash and rubble was brutal. A roaring fire that fed upon the luxury of a manor shrouded by fog. If Luca had known that it, too, would engulf his future, he might’ve never lit it. Yet, to see the relief dawn on him, to witness the fragor whilst its aftermath reflected its spark upon his dark eyes, it was almost euphoric. It was only then that Luca knew he would never kneel and pray for forgiveness for a false idol again, for he had already found a heaven worth yearning for.
So, when heaven called, Luca knew he was no better than a sinner searching for solace in the arms of his divine. He gently stirred in the dark of his room and mentally sought for the thread that pulled him to wakefulness. Logically, Luca understood the heavy absence by his side, but naively–hopefully—craned his neck to steal a glance; if not to find him there, then to fantasize. It wasn’t difficult to visualize what it must’ve been like to listen to his slowed heartbeat, or to feel the tingle of hot breath grazing his neck. Only in these little hours did Luca experience a glimpse of reason. Day by day, it was becoming more difficult to seize any true meaning behind his plans, but Luca rose just as the sun crowned her sky.
He rose with the same fiery conviction of her majesty and traversed through the empty cans, beer bottles, and dirtied clothes sprawled across his little home. Luca trudged his way into a mirror hazed by grime and neglect, and soaked a towel with warm water and wiped the soot from the night before. He combed through matted hair until he deemed it passable to keep in a short ponytail, collected a handful of the water from the bucket to gurgle and spit, and then fixed the bandages he wrapped around his neck. He didn’t feel any shame about his taut skin, the way it shot up through his arm’s length and into his hollowed face, but it helped in making him feel approachable. Aside from the eye patch, Luca ensured that all his clothes — the ones he stole or barely afforded–were long. A simple dark vest sat atop a white shirt and gray pants.
With a quick breakfast of milk and Honeyed Grains–a far-too-sweet cereal that cost him far more than he liked to admit–Luca stepped out of his hut, with his ascot and bag in hand, and into the rough streets. In this corner of the city, the houses stuck together to make room for another poor fellow. Here, space was a luxury, stolen away as new huts rose to accommodate for the alarmingly growing rate of men and women down on their luck. It was a neighborhood run in many illicit affairs. From thieves that snuck to the upper echelons of this city, looking for a bounty to take home, to mothers and daughters succumbing to selling the only thing they had left to their name.
It was a desperate place filled with desperate people who would do desperate things if only to escape survival and learn, for perhaps the first time, what it meant to live. This buried corner, veiled in the shadows of skyscrapers and their blasphemous attempt at towering to Eden, was a far cry from the comfortable living Luca used to live.
He recalled the golden glow of his fireplace crackling during winter nights. When his father, Herman, would invite his then-mentor–Professor Lorenz–to family dinners, and discuss intricate projects that Luca simply couldn’t wrap his head around. The ways he attempted to recover his ego and tried to keep up with them the day after another, tossing and turning ideas within his mind. At least, until it all clicked one day, and Professor Lorenz took him aside for a chance to direct his energy to source his designs.
Back then, there was a comfort in the future he knew he was born into, and a job that awaited him just after his graduation. Before they orphaned him, back before he killed.
Now, he slogged through the muck of various fluids and cigarette butts the city barely cared to clean. He walked all the way uphill until the cracked cement faded into tended, wide roads. The sort that ensured space for cars to tear through the city, and little trees that sprouted to decorate their homes. Still, Luca paid it no mind. It was troublesome to envy the unattainable, and frankly, he had other matters to attend–especially with the prospect of a new job waiting for him a few blocks away.
Luca hiked past titans, made of skeletal iron and fleshed out with marble, until it felt like his calves burnt, and suddenly, he understood why anyone with spare coin had tossed it into car expenses. Regardless, as he composed himself and gathered his breath, he flashed a smile to some of the construction workers that toiled over wires and blueprints. He worked his usual charm and recognized a few faces from past sites–workers moved according to their higher-ups’ whims–but he kept his usual distance.
Over the past two years, Luca had gained a reputation amidst this crowd. He was constantly in search of a new worksite, scouting for the same man; to Luca’s coworkers, the man remained a mystery for many of them. Sometimes he struck gold, but often, it was recounting of times they glimpsed him at a bar. If they were around the scene for a while, they recalled him partnered with another who’d met his fate far too early–much to Luca’s chagrin.
Eventually, Luca’s scouting came to a sudden halt when his attention split to a larger man. He kept a hard hat on, a rarity to the other workers, it seemed, and took a long glance at the man before him. If Luca didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn it reminded him of the way his warden used to dissect him before his designated breaks.
“Markovic?” a gruff voice barked out with a clipboard in hand, but Luca’s eyes drifted past his shoulder, unfocused. “ Wild card, eh? I’d been told you’d been quittin’ at any convenience. Tell me why’d I keep a scrawny one like you ‘ere? Plenty of hard workin’ boys I’d rather hire than you.” He squinted his eyes downwards, and to that, Luca softly exhaled behind a patient smile.
“Not quite a wild card, just thinking ahead,” he began, and then hummed himself a teasing tune. “Plenty of men must be clamoring for your interviews, I take it?”
Truthfully, they’d both known that his answer wouldn’t matter. Luca was an onsite hire, as had the other construction workers been. As long as higher and more impressive skyscrapers kept being on demand, it didn’t matter who they contracted. Most of them, if not all by now, had died within three years of their employment.
“You don’t need trainin’?”
“No, sir.”
“Get in there, then.”
With that, Luca had worked his first day full day at Evergreen Complex. It was just as he said: he barely needed guidance, and often, he helped much of the newer hires. Young, starry-eyed men with blistered hands and dazzling smiles. He pitied them, but it was the same, just as always: you did what you could for survival.
For hours, the team labored and grunted whilst sweat trickled, and the sun made its mark. For hours, Luca had kept his eyes peeled on every passerby, but by dawn’s time, he had given up. By the time they were all called to leave for the night, Luca retrieved a notebook and quickly scratched a mark, completing the third set of tallies.
For the next month, he earned his keep before quitting.
Now, he sat on a bench a good distance away from a new construction site, acquiring whatever he could about it. Although it proved far more difficult as he swung back another swig of poison from a wrinkled brown bag. Two gulps, and then Luca clumsily rose from his bench to journey back to his little corner of the slums.
Swaying side-to-side, he stumbled home and sagged upon his rickety door to open up. He tiredly removed every article of clothing until stripped down to his small clothes. Flinging his eye patch into a corner, Luca lurched onto his wooden chair and sent spilled liquor across soiled floorboards. A groan erupted when he’d realized that half of his liquor had gone down the drain, but that some of it stained his day clothes. Slowly, Luca pushed himself away from the table and leaned down to pick up anything he could save. At least, until something else caught his eyes.
Stained in burgundy, a neatly folded letter with bright red wax rested upon his floor. And it was as though his world had lightened up.
Lunging for the cursed thing, Luca picked it up and twirled around. He fetched a pocket knife and sloppily ripped the letter from within. There was an unfathomable glee in his eyes as they hastily skimmed over its contents, and once Luca had gotten his confirmation, he calmed and read through the better half of it once more.
At last, he picked up his nearest pen and drafted his response. By the time the moon hung high in the sky, Luca had submitted his letter to the nearest post office. (Granted, it was a trek some place by the more comfortable side of town.)
Soon, he would see them again.
Soon, a lone sinner could crawl closer to salvation.