Chapter Text
Numerous hordes of students slammed open the polished dark oak door, banging it against the ornate wall adjacent to it; the abrupt impact caused dust to expel from the aged fabric wallpaper. Exhausted students blitz across the pristine marbled tiles, their echoed scurry through the grand hallways to initiate their fruitful summer break remains as the last evidence of their existence in this prestigious academy.
As the storm of students remains a dwindling memory, the sturdy door lets out an alert creak, signaling that it’ll return to its original position with a frightening thud–; Instantaneously, ghostly-pale fingers wrap themselves on the side of the humongous door, halting it immediately.
Those exact fingers then pushed the door open and received an unprompted deafening groan from the senile hunk of oak. The figure that emerged was the culprit that interrupted the classroom door's ambitious endeavor of scaring anyone within its proximity. After briefly stepping outside the classroom, an albino man appears and adorning a stringent posture, his sculpted and broad frame exudes a suffocating atmosphere that engulfs the man, naturally demanding reverence from even his peers.
Hades labouredly released an exasperated sigh, carrying innumerable hours of academic perseverance along with it– finally released as the semester reaches its conclusion. He then deftly transferred his notebooks to his other hand and maneuvered his sore wrist to soothingly caress his disheveled argentine hair, ramming through the tangled strands; his point-assorted headpiece clutches pitifully against the jumbled mess in the back. Deciding to revel in opiate somberness, Hades gently shuts his eyes and an alleviating sourness spread from his heavy eyelids, drenching in a short-lived moment of rest.
After lamenting the egregious academic pressures of Valhalla, he swiftly returns to his dignified self, because he’s the eldest among his three other brothers, and forging the image of being constantly unyielding, infallible and reliable is embedded into his role as the foremost of the Olympus household right before their father, Cronus. Besides, he doesn’t feel obligated to shoulder this burdensome bravado, especially when Cronus’s eyes, filled with expectations are blaring above him. It’s perfectly understandable if he intends to inundate his focus into the vast jar of the ineluctable future that Cronus had meticulously arranged for him ever since he was born as the eldest.
Nevertheless, once his younger brothers: Adamas, Poseidon and Zeus entered the family, he’d vowed to nurture and care for them when Cronus was frequently absorbed in operating his enterprise or their mother Rhea had to priorities her housewife duties such as preparing dinner and wiping the house spotless, as Cronus always demanded.
If Hades were to be questioned: “Why do you have such a deep dedication to your brothers?”
He would simply answer–
“Because I love my brothers.”
Certainly, indubitably and inarguably.
Whilst internally doting on himself for his exceptional love for his brothers, Hades had started placidly strolling to the academy’s locker area. It’s in a separate section from the main building to every student’s dismay. Hades parsimoniously treads through the academy’s lavish garden; it acts as the established intersection to the locker area for the student body. Auburn sunlight glistens through the dome glass panes and onto the plethora of miscellaneous assortment of exotic florals resting in tranquility behind protective metal fences; boasting at the center is a gorgeous marble fountain. The flowers weren’t always restricted behind fences but apparently a peer of Hades by the name of ‘Loki’, nearly plucked every single flower to indulge in some floristry and create an elaborate bouquet to profess his fervid love for some girl in the junior years.
Hades doesn’t know what the outcome was, nor does he want to. Erratic antics should preferably stay far out of his concern– unless it involves his pesky brothers. Which unfortunately occurs quite often, specifically with Zeus or Adamas, leaving Hades to untangle them from whatever predicament they’d gotten themselves into as always. At least, Poseidon is more behaved and reserved, which Hades highly appreciates.
Also, wasn’t there a sophomore student who brought a genuine firearm, shot two or three rounds and wrecked the fountain?
Hades’s reminiscing was brought short as he fluidly weaved around a massive marble column and before long arrived at the facility, there are several students lumped together in various corners of the building. Such as two seniors, one silver-haired and the other blond; one devouring a gluttonous-sized bag of convenience store candy and the latter chattering exuberantly while gnawing on a lollipop, just substantially less edacious than the silver-haired. He’s also apparently not wearing the academy’s uniform, must be from a neighboring school then. The two will probably linger there until a staff member rushes them out.
Hades unceremoniously walks inside and gazes upon an array of rooms labelled with a number. He heads towards his designated room, passing by more students and mentally counts for his assigned number.
Five… six… seven– ah, there we go
After fluently twisting the doorknob, Hades strides into the room, the warm halo of the ceiling lamps impregnated across his ivory hair, bulbs reeking with antiquity. Making his way to his locker, he fiddles in his back pocket for the key, quickly unlocking the small door and placing his shoulder bag on the leathered-cushioned bench. The academy refuses to take any responsibility for the student's belongings during the summer break, so the student body has to empty out their lockers before heading off. Also, perhaps the reason that there's so many students huddled around. Fortunately, Hades doesn't hold much in there besides some old notes and extra stationaries for when Zeus snaps another pencil in half as if Hades has an abundance of them.
Putting the last sheet of paper into a navy plastic folder, Hades locks the small door, hoists his shoulder bag and goes to exit the room. Whipping open the door, a familiar figure appears unexpectedly; considerably dwarfed by Hades. Lilac irises descend upon an equally ghostly-toned man, with raven hair cascading down his blunt features, virtually obstructing his visage. He's also unsurprisingly dressed in stereotypical emo attire, a loose black fly-imprinted shirt, mid-length buckled boots and an alluding pair of striped arm warmers enshrouding his forearms; this entire get-up screams ‘approach and die’, but that doesn’t stop Hades from perking up upon seeing him.
“Oh, Beelzebub, you’re still here?” a piqued expression appears on Hades’s face.
“Of course, I still need to retrieve Hajun,” Beelzebub responds matter-of-factly, the slight tilt of his head reveals a window to his brown eyes... which still holds the same amount of gloom as the rest of him.
“That passion project of yours is still alive?” sparks of disbelief held in his words, arching an eyebrow upwards. “I must say I’m impressed.”
“I didn’t expect you of all people to doubt my skills, Hades.”
Hades gave a light chuckle, “I know, I know. I just find amusement in these frivolous things you do.”
"At least I'm not cooped up in a room tediously revising through textbooks.”
“That’s just simply untrue,” sure, he seldom leaves his room, he even goes as far to eat lunch and dinner there– but it’s only for the sake of his studies.
“Hm, right,” passing Hades an incredulous dead-panned look, “I have matters to attend to, so I’ll see you then, Hades.”
“Alright then,” Hades exhales defeatedly with a tired smile.
As Beelzebub brushes past Hades to enter the room, the albino suddenly calls out to the other man as if he remembers something, stalling him in an instant.
“Ah, right Beelzebub, have you seen my brothers?”
“No, I haven’t, but I'm sure they’ve taken the usual route home.”
“I hope so, they tend to get distracted even by the most trivial things such as stray animals, leaving Poseidon alone at times.”
“I don’t think your brothers require supervision at this age,” Beelzebub comments with emphasis.
“I know, but they’re still an aggravating bunch,” Hades smiles endearingly but a slight weariness tinges it.
“Well, I’ll set off now, have fun with your experiments, Beelzebub.”
Beelzebub gave a curt nod and vanished into the room before him.
Ambulating out of the locker room, Hades passes a large, bowed window and a meld of warm hues dawn over his tall figure like a wide curtain, igniting a slight glint in the corner of his sclera– causing him to slightly squint in his right eye. The soon-to-be descending sun signals to Hades that he should be heading home as soon as possible.
Hades quickens his pace, traversing through the lavish garden, lengthy hallways, numerous classrooms, the student lounges in a blur and finally arriving at the main entrance. It exhibits the same extravagance as the interior of the academy, thoroughly trimmed bushes planted linearly and unsullied pavements parading to a sturdy gate dazzling beneath the sun.
As Hades trails down the pavement, his phone suddenly vibrates in his back pocket. Taking the device out, it flickers open with a press of a button and a notification hovers into view.
It’s a message from Zeus.
‘Buy some Choco Buddha Bites on your way home!!’
Hades contemplated his younger brother's request shortly before replying,
‘Alright.’
Zeus apparently could only afford the courtesy of leaving the message on seen as gratitude.
The convenience store is just a few blocks before home, so a brisk detour wouldn’t be too time-consuming. Besides, it would be nice to pick up some favoured snacks of his own, such as anything mint or pomegranate flavoured.
Those around Hades give unwarranted judgement to his peculiar taste, but they’ve yet to discover his appetite for charred food.
Switching his phone off and returning it to his back pocket, Hades resumes with a new task set in mind. Stepping through the gate, Hades follows along his usual route, a fifteen-minute walk from the academy, yet somehow– him and his brothers are well-nigh late every day. Generally, due to Adamas and Zeus’s daily quarrels in the morning on who gets to use the bathroom first. (Adamas’s logic being that as the older between the two, he deserves the right to go first.)
As always, Hades manages to prepare them in uniforms and cram breakfast in their stomachs just before the ginormous bell at the summit of the academy tolls to start the day.
Upon reaching the crossroads, Hades deviates from the familiar route and heads off to the one leading to the local convenience store. This nearby section of the neighborhood serves as a miniature business district, consisting of small family-owned businesses, niche shops owned by entrepreneurs aspiring for wealthy success one day and food vendors which debatably sell more delectable food than the fine-dining restaurants in the city.
A combination of lush aromas wafts mesmerizingly throughout the air from different restaurants and food stalls of various cuisines. The flavours tingle in Hades’s nose, causing him to internally salivate, he isn’t the type to shy away from cultural appreciation after all.
Unfortunately, he has an objective that coincides and the urge to return home is more prominent than ever.
Maybe next time.
The door chime above accompanies Hades as he opens the scuffed glass door, echoing across the store when he enters. However, that barely earned a reaction from the cashier who lolled in a plastic chair engrossed in a magazine. That doesn’t bother Hades, obviously, and he wanders around the store gathering the necessities. Remembering what he jotted down in his mind earlier.
That chocolate snack Zeus enjoys, a pack of mints and nothing pomegranate-flavoured to his disappointment.
Heading to the cashier counter, Hades deftly places the items and the cashier before him swiftly scans, rings him up, shoves the food into a plastic bag and enunciates the price while giving Hades a jaded look; basically, imploring Hades to leave the store as soon as possible.
The thought: ‘Service jobs aren’t that exhausting.’ flashes in Hades’s mind as he wrings out his card to pay. Then to what the cashier intended, Hades leaves the store as swift as the performance the worker displayed earlier.
Hades props his forearm upwards to let the plastic bag slide to the middle of his arm as he puts the credit card back into his matt-black wallet; He fails to notice the hurried figure sprinting animatedly towards him– the last notable thing Hades could gaze before he was abruptly tumbled on his back was a burst of black hair that appeared in his line of sight in a heartbeat; Hades also swore he spotted a flare of red standing out in the sea of black like a sore thumb.
Speaking of sore body parts, a searing pain infests at the back of Hades’s head. He’s barely given a moment comprehend what happened before the latter gasped–
“Didn’t mean to!”
Soon enough, the flurry of black was now a distant memory, or it should’ve been, before Hades agonizingly rotates his head to the right to reach for his wallet that was flung somewhere during that unceremonious event and a small red pouch, which appeared to also be a wallet meets Hades in the eyes.