Chapter Text
DRING
The school bell rings, marking the beginning of the school day or what, for Damiano, is the equivalent of hell.
First day of high school.
New school, new teachers, new neighborhood... but the same faces. It was obvious. In a small town like this, where there were very few choices when it came to schools unless you wanted to go far from home, it was only natural that kids of the same age would attend the same elementary, middle, and high schools. Most students were happy about that. It meant friendships wouldn't be lost, and no one had to worry about constantly finding a new group of friends every time they changed schools.
However, it also meant something else: for someone like Damiano, the possibility of a fresh start was impossible.
As soon as the bell rings, all the students begin entering the building, greeting old friends and chatting about what they had done during the summer while heading toward their respective classrooms.
Damiano enters the classroom alone, head lowered as he immediately walks toward the back and sits at the desk in the corner against the wall, trying his best to ignore the looks and whispered comments from his classmates.
"Fuck, he's in our class. What rotten luck."
"Don't look at him, you might catch something."
"I heard he has another disease besides liking men. Apparently even his body is rotten."
Damiano says nothing. He doesn't respond. He simply remains silent. What's the point of arguing back? Every year it would be the same story. He sighs, crosses his arms on the desk, then rests his head on them and closes his eyes, trying to muffle the sound of the whispers as if he weren't sitting right there within earshot.
He only hopes these five years pass quickly.
At that moment, however, he feels a hand rest on his shoulder. There it was. The moment had come. He was about to receive his first beating of the year. Usually they waited until at least the first week had passed. Apparently this year they had decided to get a head start.
However, no insults or pain followed the touch—only a curious and lively voice trying to get his attention.
"Hey, are you okay? Are you feeling sick?"
Damiano looks up and is greeted by something completely unexpected: A new face.
He had heard that a new family from southern Italy had moved into town and that they had a boy his age, but he hadn't known they would be in the same class. The boy's brown eyes shine almost as brightly as his huge smile when Damiano meets his gaze. "Hi! I thought you were sleeping," the boy says cheerfully. "Can I sit here?" he asks, pointing at the empty seat beside Damiano—the one that usually stayed empty until a teacher forced someone to sit there.
Damiano truly doesn't know what to say. He's almost tempted to pinch himself just to make sure this is real and not some dream. But the boy is there, staring at him with that radiant smile and those eyes that seemed to hold sunlight itself because of how warm they were.
Without saying anything, Damiano nods, and the boy sits beside him. "By the way, I'm Massimo," the boy says, extending a hand toward his classmate. Damiano stares at it as if it were some alien object. Nobody wanted to touch him. He was infected. Slowly, Damiano reaches out and shakes his hand. "I... I'm Damiano," he says timidly.
The boy's smile somehow grows even wider.
Massimo opens his mouth to say something else, but at that moment their Italian teacher enters the classroom and immediately walks to her desk before starting roll call.
When class begins, Damiano, who had been busy taking notes until then, is distracted by a piece of paper being slid onto his desk.
He stares at it for a few seconds, expecting to find some insult written inside. Instead, the message says: "Do you want to go get ice cream together after school?"
Immediately his gaze lifts and lands on the boy sitting beside him. Massimo was looking at him with that same smile and without even realizing it, Damiano finds himself smiling back.
Maybe these next five years won't be so bad after all.
—Eight years later—
"Shit, shit, shit!" Damiano hisses as he rushes out of his apartment door and practically flies down the apartment building stairs, nearly tripping and falling flat on his face from how frantic he is.
"How is it possible that I'm always late?! My boss is going to kill me this time!" he curses under his breath as he exits the building and starts running through the narrow streets of the historic center.
To be fair, the worst he would probably get from his boss was a stern lecture. The man was far too kind to actually fire him. Still, Damiano felt guilty, especially after everything the man had done for him. As he runs, every now and then he notices posters plastered onto walls and storefronts. The same posters that had been there for three days now.
They would get taken down every day, but mysteriously, by the next morning they would reappear in twice the numbers: "The Freak Circus of Horrors."
Yeah, people weren't happy that they were here.
This was a small town where everyone knew everyone and where nothing particularly unusual ever happened. But ever since that circus had arrived, strange things had started occurring. Two people had disappeared. Quite a lot considering that, before their arrival, there had probably been fewer than five missing person cases in twenty years.
The connection had been obvious and almost immediate.
Damiano wasn't sure if he actually believed it.
He had seen the circus workers around town handing out flyers and, although he had to admit that the way they moved and spoke was... bizarre, he doubted they were responsible for so many disappearances. They were simply performers doing their jobs and bringing their art around the world.
Damiano respected that.
Apparently, though, not everyone shared his opinion.
"Hey! Get out of the way, freak!"
Those words immediately catch Damiano's attention, and he stops at once to see what was happening.
He wasn't surprised when he saw an old acquaintance of his: Luca Torinesi.
Standing in an intimidating posture over one of the circus workers, who was on the ground with flyers scattered all across the stone pavement of the pedestrian street. Damiano knew Luca very well. After all, he had been one of his most loyal bullies.
Luca had tormented him from elementary school all the way until around sophomore year of high school, the point where Damiano had finally started fighting back.
Years had passed, but Luca had remained a bully.
That didn't surprise him in the slightest.
"Ever since you people got here, people have started disappearing! Crawl back into whatever disgusting hole in hell you came from!" the young man continues shouting at the clown dressed in red, yellow, and black, still lying on the ground.
Oh hell no.
There was no way Damiano was letting him get away with this.
With quick strides, nearly running, he approaches the scene and steps between the two.
"A leopard never changes its spots, huh, Luca?" he says, crossing his arms and glaring at his former classmate.
Once upon a time, Damiano had been terrified of Luca. Back when he had been a scrawny little kid and the bully had looked as wide as a wardrobe. But now, at twenty-two years old, their roles had reversed.
This time, Damiano was the muscular one.
Luca takes a step back when he sees who had stepped between him and his victim, seemingly surprised to see his former classmate, before letting out a small growl. "Mind your own damn business, Visentin. Those things don't need your protection," the bully hisses, throwing a nasty glare toward the clown behind Damiano. "They show up and suddenly people start disappearing. Kinda suspicious, don't you think?"
"These "things" are people just trying to do their jobs, something you wouldn't understand since your daddy still pays for everything," Damiano shoots back.
That clearly strikes a nerve because Luca steps forward as if ready to punch him, only stopping when he notices that several people, drawn by the shouting, had stopped to watch. Luca scoffs before glaring at Damiano again. "To hell with you. I hope they take you next time." That's all he says before storming off angrily.
Some things never change, Damiano thinks as he watches his former bully leave with his tail between his legs.
Only when he hears movement behind him does he remember why he had started this whole scene in the first place.
Immediately he turns around and gets a better look at the clown on the ground.
The first thing that catches his attention is the mask he was wearing: White, with black markings shaped like vertical slits above the eyes. Beneath the left eye there was a black teardrop-shaped mark. The second thing that strikes him are his eyes, a deep amber color that almost seemed capable of staring directly into his soul. His clothes, colored red, black, and yellow, reminded Damiano more of a jester's outfit than that of a classic clown.Long strands of white hair framed his face, while the rest was probably hidden beneath that extravagant jester hat with bells hanging from its points.
Without hesitation, Damiano extends a hand toward the performer.
"Hey, are you okay?" he asks with concern.
The clown remains silent, staring at the offered hand for a few seconds before finally extending his own hand, covered by a black glove, and using Damiano's help to stand. Once the man is back on his feet, Damiano can't help but take a small step backward. He hadn't expected him to be so tall.
"Don't pay attention to that idiot. He's always been like that ever since I knew him. He's a lost cause," Damiano says, offering the taller man a small smile. However, still without speaking.
'Is he mute?' he wonders, slightly puzzled by the complete lack of response.
Then he notices something else. The stranger had an injury on his face. Luca had probably punched him. "Oh, you're hurt!" he says urgently. Immediately Damiano removes the backpack from his shoulders and starts digging through it, searching for something. A small victorious sound escapes him when he finally finds what he was looking for: A bandage.
"I always carry bandages with me because I tend to get hurt a lot," he says, a little embarrassed as he rises onto his tiptoes to place it over the wound. As he does, his fingers brush against the porcelain surface of the mask.
He doesn't notice the way the stranger's body suddenly stiffens at the contact. Nor the way his eyes seem to grow more intense.
"There we go. This should do for now, but if it gets worse, you'd better have a doctor look at it," the young man says as he puts his backpack back on. The clown, still silent and still wearing that enormous smile painted on his mask, tilts his head slightly to the side and nods.
Damiano nods back.
"Good." Then, as if struck by sudden realization, he remembers why he had been in such a hurry in the first place. "Shit! Sorry, but I have to go. Take care of yourself!" he says before running off toward his workplace, where he was already incredibly late.
Completely unaware of the pair of amber eyes following his every movement with predatory focus.
And unaware of the presence that, from now on, would become a constant in his life.
Unaware that perhaps...he had caught the attention of something, or someone, dangerous.