Alexio's Perspective
I owe everything in my life to my father. He wasn't the happiest man, especially not since Mom died, but he tried. I wish I had taken our time together more seriously, but I would have never guessed I'd be so young when he died. I went from living a comfortable life with a dad who loves me and a stable homelife to watching my relatives plot my death.
At my father's funeral I watched them gossip amongst each other, arguing flagrantly about how to divide up the remaining assets– the ones that hadn't been absorbed into Killer Media. They hush their conversation as I walk past them, but don't hesitate to return to bickering once they find me close enough to being out of ear shot. I wait outside the building as a line of people say their goodbyes to his portrait, his casket closed. Bruiser is in there, and if I see his face I might do something I regret.
It's there on the steps of the church that I found a tall man, perhaps a few years older than me, who was sitting with his legs spread open and arms resting on his knees. His sharp, pointed shark tail was waving slowly, catching the light like diamonds.
He must have sensed my presence, as he peeked back at me from over his shoulder and patted the ground beside him. Perhaps I was too desperate for some sort of consolation, for someone to tell me that everything was going to be okay, but I went along with him. I sat there and accepted the cigarette he held out for me, and I leaned in close to him when he held out his lighter.
He was so beautiful. Dark blue hair like silk, bright blue eyes like the ocean. He shared his flask with me, allowing me to keep a hold on it to this day.
"That your dad?" He asked me, exhaling a plume of smoke into the gray Winter sky.
I didn't say anything in response, just took another large gulp of whatever disgusting liquid he had given me. The burning in my throat was a welcome distraction.
"He was a cool guy. We never talked much but I respected his vision," he added. "Leave it to Bruiser to shut down anything that isn't his fuckin' idea."
This caught my attention, and this stranger was well aware of my curious gaze. I had fallen for his bait without realizing how such a tiny seed could grow into a forest of future torment.
"Who are you?" I asked sternly, readjusting to face him better.
His long slender fingers reached out to me in a handshake, which I naturally accepted when he answered me: "Ledger White."
Before I knew it, Ledger and I were out at a bar, laughing and spilling our drinks on ourselves. For hours we complained about work, about how venomous people are, about how much it hurt to lose your father.
"How can… how can it fffuckin'... how can Bruiser…." I stumbled over my words groggily. "Bruiser fucking killed him over… over nothing…." I broke down into a sob, slamming my head into the bar. "Over NOTHING! Why…?" The tears poured forth for the fifth time that day. I wanted so desperately to understand how Bruiser could rob my father, of me, of another day in this world.
"That's just what Bruiser does," Ledger sighed and rubbed my back.
I looked up at him, unable to see more than a blur through my tears. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped away my tears carefully. His hands were so cold, but I reached up and held them tightly before breaking down into sobs again.
"Don't cry, Alexio," he said, then squeezed my hands. "Stand up for yourself. Are you going to take over your father's position? Are you going to let Bruiser fuckin' Blackwater make a mockery of your dad?"
He leaned in close, lifting my head up by the chin. He gently gripped the cigarette between his fingers, blowing a steady stream of smoke into my face. I coughed and rubbed the pain from my eyes, cursing at him. When I opened my eyes, he pulled his cigarette from his lips and slipped it between my lips.
"Steel yourself. Bruiser's next target is going to be you." His words pierce me like a knife.
I stared at him wide-eyed, desperately wanting answers on what to do next. I was in no state to start plotting revenge, I couldn't fathom a future managing the leftover assets from my father. I had been prepared for this my entire life, but that didn't make it feel anymore real.
"I don't know what to do…" I cried.
I fumbled forward, clinging to the shark before me and pressing my face into his chest. He held me tightly, suggesting everything would be okay. He held me up, standing me up on two feet and dragging me to the jukebox.
"Put on a song," he said smoothly as he dropped a coin into the machine.
In my drunken state I picked at random something I recognized. He held me up when the tune came on and I collapsed against him. When I reached up and put my arms over his shoulders, he pulled me tight against him, our funeral clothes colliding in slippery friction.
We collided again, his lips meeting mine roughly and his tongue slipping into my mouth. The heat between us rose all the way up to his apartment, spilling into his bed. Despair faded into pleasure, he molded my fears into a sensual pastime. For a few days I lived with him, allowing him to tackle me down onto any furniture that could hold us. When the neighbors complained about the noise he'd make a show of defending me, of telling them to fuck off and promising to skin them.
To my surprise he moved in with me. What was once an empty mansion was filled with life, briefly. Ledger introduced me to people who would keep me company, who worked for his own. Whenever pain found its way back into my heart he'd ease it before I could really notice. He'd suppress my emotions with his body, leaving proof of his shark ancestry all over my body.
Then, as quickly as they started, things changed.