[Location: Varynfall City – 09:57 p.m.]
Time had the strange habit of slipping away when nothing demanded attention. The day had gone by quickly — not because it was full, but because it was empty. Nero didn't mind that. He was good at doing nothing. He even liked it.
There were a few things in life that actually brought him joy: eating sweets, reading old novels, and, above all else, sleeping. The kind of sleep that stretched deep into the morning, uninterrupted.
But tonight offered no such comfort.
"You look fucking goofy," Nero muttered flatly, his voice dry.
It wasn't aimed at himself this time.
The insult was directed at his self-proclaimed best friend, Alexander.
Alexander, for his part, looked like the human embodiment of "average." Plain face, light brown hair slicked back with too much gel, and eyes so unremarkably brown they might as well have been sepia. His outfit didn't help either — a blue dress shirt, blazer tossed carelessly over it, slacks, and black dress shoes. The effort was visible, but the result was very questionable.
The two stood in line outside a tall, black-paneled building crammed between two larger ones. Pink neon letters flickered above the entrance: Angel's Den. The glow painted everyone in the queue with artificial color.
They were third in line now, inching forward toward the entrance. The music inside was muffled but still heard, the bass thudding like a heartbeat. And around them, people waited, chatted and stared — mostly at Nero.
("Great. Another night of being a walking spectacle.")
"What?" Alexander asked defensively, catching the edge in Nero's tone. "This is my best outfit!"
Nero looked him up and down with unimpressed eyes. "Goddamn, you really are poor," he said, tone flat.
Alexander's shoulders slumped immediately. "I know, bro. You don't have to say it out loud." He sighed. "Still, you could've at least tried. I mean, white shirt again? Really? You look like you're heading to an office job, not a club."
Nero glanced down at himself — white button-up shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, black trousers, scuffed boots. The same outfit he'd worn earlier that day. He shrugged.
"I look good in anything. That's the difference between us."
Alexander groaned. "Ugh, I hate that you're right."
"Don't be gay."
"I wasn't!"
The line inched forward again until they reached the front. The bouncer stood like a statue — a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark skin and a stare sharp enough to slice through anything. His black shirt stretched tightly across his chest, arms crossed as he surveyed the crowd.
Nero and Alexander both produced their IDs and a small, rectangular invitation card — matte black with pink angel wings embossed across the top. The bouncer took them without a word, gave them a glance, and then paused.
His eyes lingered — a fraction too long — on Nero.
Nero felt the weight of it and looked away. He'd gotten used to that look, the confusion that flickered behind people's eyes when they tried to fit his face into a category. He ignored it, stepping past the rope barrier as the bouncer finally nodded them through.
The moment they entered, the world exploded into noise.
The bass hit like a physical thing, vibrations crawling up through the floor. Colored lights spun in dizzying patterns — pinks, blues, and violets flashing across everything. The air was thick with perfume and alcohol.
The club was vast — two bars stretched across opposite sides, the center dominated by a packed dance floor. People moved erratically, some dancing close, others far too close. Booths lined the edges, dimly lit and half-hidden by the glow.
"Holy shit," Alexander breathed, eyes wide with genuine awe.
Nero winced as the volume hit his skull. "Ugh, I'm already getting a headache from this shit!" he shouted over the music.
Alexander clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, lighten up! This place is awesome!"
"I can feel my brain liquefying," Nero muttered.
"C'mon!" Alexander called, pointing toward the back. "I see Jason and the others!"
Nero sighed but followed, threading his way through the writhing crowd. The heat, the flashing lights, the smell of spilled drinks — it was sensory overload. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, doing his best not to look at the couples pressed up against each other in ways that should probably be illegal in public.
("Fucking lunatics,") he thought. ("Get a room.")
They reached a booth at last — a long velvet couch surrounding a low glass table, half-cluttered with empty bottles and cocktail glasses.
Jason was there, all clean angles and easy smiles. He was the kind of guy who you assumed was popular due to his looks — light blue eyes, strawberry-blond hair styled just right, tight blue shirt that showed off gym hours and jeans that fit too well.
Beside him sat Xander — older, built like someone who lifted for fun. Short-cropped hair, dark skin and a leather jacket that looked too warm for the club.
And the third face — one Nero hadn't expected — made him pause.
Silas.
Nero blinked, mildly surprised. Silas was a year older, known for his quiet manner and tendency to vanish from social plans. Short black hair, sharp gray eyes, expression unreadable. His outfit — button shirt, vest, string tie and slacks — looked more suited for a formal dinner than a night out.
("And here I thought Silas was more antisocial than me,") Nero mused.
He turned, catching a glint of gold in his peripheral vision.
"Holy shit! He's actually real!"
The voice was bright and high-pitched, brimming with the kind of enthusiasm Nero found physically painful.
He turned slowly.
A girl — tall, blonde, easily a year or two older — stood in front of him, staring with unfiltered excitement. Her hair was tied neatly in a ponytail, her eyes sparkled an unreal blue, and her dress — a sleek, form-fitting shade of azure — only accentuated an hourglass figure that turned heads without effort.
Especially Alexander's who gawked.
Nero blinked, unimpressed.
"What the fu—"
"Whoa, you're so freaking pretty!" she blurted out, cutting him off. She leaned forward, eyes wide. "And your hair! It's actually white! Are those contacts? Oh my god, your lashes — I'd kill for lashes like that. You're just so pretty!"
Nero's expression flattened. He briefly considered the moral implications of drop-kicking her.
Before he could speak, another voice cut in, it was smooth and filled with amusement.
"Calm down, Victoria. You're scaring the kid."
Nero turned to see another girl seated on the couch. She looked close to Victoria's age, but carried herself differently. Long black hair framed a pale face, and her violet eyes was sharp and strangely soft, regarding Nero with mild curiosity. Her outfit was far simpler: short skirt, boots and a black jacket .
She didn't need to dress up to stand out.
And unlike Victoria, she didn't look like she wanted to eat him alive.
Still, she was watching him too closely for his liking.
Nero exhaled through his nose, already feeling the weight of future regret settle on his shoulders.
("This is going to be fucking annoying,") he thought.
"Shit, Alexander, you actually got Nero to come?" Jason asked, his tone caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement. He leaned back in the velvet booth, one arm draped lazily across the backrest, grinning like a man who'd just seen something unnatural. "Did you sell your soul to Satan or something?"
"Yeah," Alexander deadpanned, slipping into the seat beside him. "And he gave me a two-for-one deal—your mom's next."
Jason barked out a laugh, while Xander nearly spilled his drink. The group's laughter briefly drowned out the muffled bass of the club's music before fading back into the ambient thrum. Alexander's eyes, however, drifted—not toward his friends—but to the two girls seated across the booth.
"So, Nero," Xander said, raising his glass in mock salute, "you've finally decided to grace us lowly mortals with your divine presence. We are humbled, truly."
"Fuck off."
Nero's voice came out flat and slightly tired—like he'd already regretted being there. Still, his lips curled into a small, crooked smirk as he dropped onto the couch. The plush seat absorbed his weight, and he sank slightly into it, half wishing he could disappear. Unfortunately, before he could even breathe, Victoria slid in right beside him.
"And already," Jason mused, "he's popular with the ladies."
"C'mon, don't blame me!" Victoria squealed, practically vibrating with excitement. "He's just so damn cute!" Nero blinked. She leaned in closer, eyes wide with wonder. "You're like a doll! Can I touch your face?"
"Only if you want your fingers broken,"
Victoria froze mid-reach. "So that's a no?"
"Pretty sure that's a no," Xander snorted, sipping his drink.
"He's feisty," came another voice. Nero turned just in time to see the dark-haired girl from earlier rise from her seat and settle on his other side. "I like him."
Now sandwiched between two girls—one loud and sugary, the other predatory, both hot—Nero looked less like a guy living a fantasy and more like someone trapped in one.
Jason grinned. "And he does it again."
"I'm so fucking jealous," Alexander muttered, deflating into his seat.
Xander raised his glass toward him. "Have a drink, bud. You'll feel better about your failures."
Silas hadn't said a word. He sat at the far end of the booth, staring into nothing—his gaze detached. Nero caught that and couldn't help envying it.
("Damn. I wish that were me.")
The dark-haired girl spoke again, her tone cutting through the heavy bass. "Alexander over there said your name was Nero." Her voice was calm but carried a strange sharpness, a kind of curiosity that made him uneasy. "That means 'black,' doesn't it?" She tilted her head, eyes glinting. "A contradictory name." Before he could react, she reached forward, brushing a pale strand of hair behind his ear. "White hair. Black name. Almost poetic."
Nero looked unimpressed. "Whoa, you're so smart," he said dryly, his tone dripping sarcasm. He started to add something else but was interrupted by a poke on his cheek. He turned. Victoria again.
"C'mon! You're stealing away his attention, Annabeth. That's not fair!" she whined, lower lip jutting out like a child's.
"He seems more interested in me anyway," Annabeth replied, smirking slightly.
"That's not true yet!" Victoria huffed. "We don't know that!"
Nero sighed internally. ("I will kill someone tonight.")
Before he could act on that blessed thought, Silas suddenly stood up.
Jason glanced up. "Huh? You already going, buddy?"
"Yeah. Got some stuff to take care of," Silas merely said. Without another word, he walked off, hands in pockets, slipping easily into the crowd. Nero watched him go with deep, aching envy.
("Lucky bastard.")
"Oh shoot, I gotta pee," Victoria announced abruptly. "Come with me, Annabeth?"
Annabeth groaned. "What are you, five?" Still, after a beat, she rose from her seat. "Fine, let's go."
Victoria beamed, already half-dragging her along. "I'll see you now-now, Nero~!" she sing-songed before disappearing into the chaos of the dance floor.
The moment they vanished, Nero turned to Alexander with the expression of a someone seconds away from homicide.
"Alexander, I'm going to fucking murder you."
Alexander raised both hands defensively. "C-come on, man, I didn't know they were gonna be that into you! I swear!"
Jason laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. "Nero, you're the only guy I know who'd complain about two hot chicks throwing themselves at him. Are you sure you're a guy?"
"I'm gonna kill you too, Jason."
"I'll help," Xander said, raising his glass with a lazy grin. Nero smirked and gave him a slow fist bump.
"But anyway," Xander continued, setting his glass down, "you've got orientation tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah," Nero muttered, leaning back, trying to tune out the pulsing music and lights. "At good ol' Novarch University. Cutting-edge place, apparently."
"Are you kidding?" Alexander blurted out. "That place is way more than cutting-edge! Nero, we're lucky we even got in with scholarships! People would kill to get there. They've got like, massive buildings for each department—labs, studios, libraries that look like they belong in sci-fi movies—hell, even the cafeteria's supposed to be fancy."
Jason turned, eyebrows raised. "You got a scholarship?" He jabbed a thumb at Alexander. "I can understand Nero, but you?"
"Oh, fuck off," Alexander groaned, waving him away.
Xander chuckled. "So what did you get a scholarship for?" he asked, looking at Nero.
"Eh. Science."
Jason leaned forward with a grin. "What, studying to be the next Einstein or something?"
Nero snorted. "Nah. I don't wanna be a theoretical physicist or anything. I'm just going with the flow." He shrugged, tone casual. "Since I'm so good-looking and all, things work out for me."
"Lucky bastard," Alexander muttered, taking a long sip from his glass. Then, lifting it high, he added, "Let's cheer—for me and Nero getting accepted into Novarch University!"
Xander and Jason followed suit, raising their glasses high.
"Cheers!"
Nero didn't join in immediately. He just watched them, the corners of his mouth twitching into something between amusement and contemplation.
He lifted an empty glass last—more out of habit than joy—and muttered under his breath, "Yeah. Cheers."