Many years earlier

THIRD PERSON

"Cugino, hai 22 anni, Vito, viviti un po'," [Cousin, you're 22, Vito, live a little], Alessandro said, his voice light and teasing, a burst of laughter escaping."Fatti una bevuta, fai festa, scopati qualcuno. Il mondo non finirà se ti prendi una serata di pausa." [Get drunk, make a party, get laid. The world won't end if you take a night off.]

Vito hesitated, his fingers tightening around the phone as if trying to hold onto something solid. The noise of the street outside his window seemed to fade as he focused on Alessandro's words. "I know, but someone has to keep things together at home."

Alessandro's laughter quickly died down, his tone turning more serious, yet still laced with understanding. "Non devi portarti tutto sulle spalle, Vito. Sono sicuro che ce la faranno per una sera." [You don't have to carry everything on your own, Vito. I'm sure they can handle it for one night.]

Vito sighed, the weight of responsibility heavy in his chest. The sound of distant car horns and people talking from the street below seeped in, but it felt far away, like it didn't belong to him. "How? Matteo and Riccardo are only 9 and 10 years old, Valentino is 15, and there is no way—" His phone suddenly buzzed, cutting him off. "Wait a second, someone's calling me." It was a call from Principal Storm. Vito glanced at the screen, a knot forming in his stomach. He rubbed his forehead quickly muttering, "I'm sorry, its important, we have to continue our call another time. Greetings to the rest."

"Glielo dirò," [I'll tell them,] Alessandro replied, his voice filled with reluctant amusement before he hung up.

Vito didn't hesitate. He immediately answered the incoming call, his mind already racing. "What did he do?" he asked, the tension clear in his voice.

Principal Storm's voice came through sharp and urgent, cutting straight to the point. "Vito, such a pleasure to talk to you again. I hope you had a lovely weekend."

Vito's stomach twisted. "What happened this time?" he asked, his grip tightening on the phone once more.

"He thought it would be nice to bring a living object for his biology class, and as much as we encourage new creative ways of improving our lessons, this one we can't encourage..."

Vito felt his blood beginning to boil. "What exactly did you say he brought?"

"A dog."

Vito's heart sank as the words registered. A dog, so either Medusa or Xerberius. His mind raced, picturing the chaos that would ensue, trying to make sense of how on earth Valentino could have thought it was a good idea. "Are you telling me that Valentino brought a dog to class?" Vito's voice was tight with disbelief, his knuckles white from gripping the phone, and he already knew what kind of dog that must have been.

"Yes," Principal Storm replied, her tone somehow amused, but clearly trying to keep the situation under control. "It was a large dog, Vito. Not just a little pup either—this was a full-grown, seemingly trained animal, but still very much out of place in a school setting. And that's the main reason why I called, the teacher is highly afraid of dogs and accuses Valentino of doing it intentionally." So Medusa.

Vito was silent for a moment, trying to process what he was hearing. Of course it was intentional; it was his brother they were talking about. "I'll be there right away. I'll talk to him. Thank you for telling me." Vito ended the call, his mind reeling. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He grabbed his jacket, his heart pounding with anger. Why on earth did it have to be always Valentino? Couldn't someone else be the troublemaker?

Vito arrived at the school with his mind racing, his thoughts a jumbled mess of disbelief and frustration. It was silent as he walked through the halls, the students still in class. He reached the principal's office, where Principal Storm and the teacher who had been involved were waiting and saw his brother sitting outside, chatting with the secretary. His smile faded when he looked at Vito and his face went pale, but before he could say something, Vito held up his hand. "Don't say a word," he said, and Valentino froze. Next to him, Medusa looked up and wagged her tail at the sight of Vito. "Seduto." [Sit.]

Vito didn't wait for Valentino to respond. He turned and walked into the office without another glance, leaving Valentino alone with a growing unease, the leash in his hand, and Medusa at his feet. Maybe this time, he had overstepped the line.

Time seemed to stretch on forever, and when the door finally opened, Valentino froze. He couldn't even meet Vito's eyes properly. His brother stood in the doorway, his posture rigid, his expression unreadable.

"You're coming with me," Vito said, his voice calm but with an edge of authority. It wasn't a suggestion. It was an order. Valentino stood up slowly, his legs unsteady as he followed his brother down the hallway, Medusa by his side. Each step felt like it took an eternity. They didn't say anything to each other. The air between them felt thick, like everything that needed to be said was hanging in the balance.

When they reached the car, Vito stopped and turned to face him. His eyes were hard, but Valentino could see the hurt underneath, and that hurt made his stomach turn. This wasn't the brother who always had his back. This wasn't the Vito who told him everything would be okay. This was someone else—someone who was struggling with what his brother had done.

"You are suspended for two weeks and you cannot attend the parents' ball," Vito said, his voice low, his jaw clenched. His gaze remained fixed on him, cold and distant, but Valentino could feel the emotion beneath it. There was anger, disappointment, and a depth of hurt that made it hard to breathe. It was like a silent accusation hanging in the air, and Valentino couldn't escape it.

"I know you're angry," Valentino started. He didn't want to fight with Vito, because there was no way he would win. "But—"

But Vito shook his head, cutting him off before he could say more. "Angry doesn't even begin to cover it," he said, his voice tight, almost a growl. "You're lucky it's just this. You crossed a line, Valentino. A serious one."

Valentino crossed his arms "I didn't mean for it to go this far, Vito. I was just trying to have a little fun. I didn't think it would get this out of control."

Vito's jaw clenched even harder, his eyes narrowing. "Fun? That's what you call this?" he asked, voice rising with each word. "You humiliated someone. Someone who deserved your respect. You messed with someone's fear. And all for what? Attention? A stupid thrill? You don't even realize how serious this is, do you? What could've happened?"

Valentino looked down, guilt flooding his chest. "I... I didn't realize," he admitted quietly. "I thought it was just a harmless joke, but I... I messed up."

Vito let out a sharp breath, clearly frustrated, and rubbed his face with one hand. "You think 'messing up' is just a small thing? What about the teacher you hurt? What about the people who have to clean up your mess?"

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Valentino's heart was beating in his throat, and he felt a deep ache inside him, a hollow feeling that came from knowing he had betrayed his brother's trust. "I never wanted to disappoint you, Vito," Valentino whispered. "I just... I don't know what happened. I don't know why I did it."

Vito's gaze softened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a steely expression. "I'm not saying this because I hate you, Valentino. I'm saying it because you need to learn. And you need to learn that actions have consequences. This isn't just some game you can play. You have to take responsibility for what you did."

Valentino nodded slowly, the weight of the situation sinking further in. He knew Vito was right. He couldn't keep making excuses or hiding behind his mistakes. He had to own up to what he had done—and the consequences that came with it.

"The teacher wanted to expel you. Two weeks suspension is nothing compared to what you could've lost," Vito added, his voice finally softening. "But you need to learn from this. Understand what you've done, and make it right."

Valentino's heart skipped a beat. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he felt a wave of panic wash over him. "They can't throw me out! It was just a bit of fun!" His voice cracked, betraying the fear rising within him.

Vito's eyes darkened, and he leaned in slightly, his gaze unwavering. "You are not untouchable." His words were sharp. Valentino flinched at the intensity in Vito's voice. The weight of his brother's stare, coupled with the gravity of his words, made him feel small. For a split second, the defiant edge he usually held in his posture faltered.

"I didn't mean for it to get this bad, Vito. I swear," Valentino said, his voice low, almost pleading.

Vito's expression softened slightly, but the hurt in his eyes didn't disappear. "I know you didn't mean for it to get this bad, you never do, but that's the problem, Valentino. You never think about the consequences. You think about the thrill, about the fun, and forget about the mess you leave behind." His voice wavered between anger and concern. "You might think you're just playing around, but not everyone can just laugh it off like you do."

Valentino remained quiet, his mind scrambling for a way to explain himself. But he knew deep down that there was nothing he could say to make this okay. He couldn't take back what had happened. He had crossed a line, and now he had to face the fallout. "I'm sorry," Valentino whispered, his voice barely audible. "I didn't mean to mess everything up. I just—I didn't think about it."

Vito let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. He looked at his younger brother, his gaze shifting between frustration and a deep, undeniable sadness. "You need to take responsibility for your actions, Valentino. You're not a kid anymore. You can't keep doing this and thinking you'll get away with it. You've got to grow up." He shook his head, not able to fully mask the disappointment in his voice. "You have two weeks now to think about it."

"Nothing from you?"

"From me? No." Vito smiled a bit. "You will only have to call Domenico and tell him what you did with Medusa."

Valentino's heart sank. "Can't I do anything else? I really would prefer that. I could clean the windows, I could make dinner for a year, I could even drive Riccardo and Matteo to all of their soccer games! Imagine that, you could sleep in on weekends. Doesn't that sound good?"

"Valentino, you ain't even 16."

_____________

"And he really has to stay home for two weeks?" Domenico looked skeptically at his brother, taking a drag from his cigarette. "That's way too long for my liking. Can we send him to Italy? Nonna would be delighted."

"Well, they had to punish him." Vito's voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, a hint of frustration that he was trying to keep in check. He leaned back against the balcony, his eyes fixed on the moon above, clearly not wanting to explain further. He did, nevertheless. "And two weeks will be manageable. Remember when he was suspended for a month?"

"The guinea pig thing?" Domenico watched Vito for a moment, the smoke from his cigarette curling lazily into the cool night air. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "He's really something, isn't he? And a creative one."

Vito's lips twitched, but he didn't smile. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his posture tense as if every word from Domenico was another weight on his shoulders. "Let's just hope the other two won't follow his example," he muttered, the words thick with concern.

Domenico chuckled darkly, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "They surely will be little angels."

Vito's eyes narrowed, his fingers clenching against the railing. "I won't let them go down that road. Not if I can help it."

Domenico snorted, stepping closer. "Yeah, good luck with that." He heard the door creak and turned around. "Speaking of the devil's little friend..."

Vito quickly hid the cigarette behind his back, his expression shifting to a softer one. "Matteo, everything okay?"

Matteo hesitated in the doorway, his eyes flicking nervously between the two brothers. His posture was rigid, like he was trying to appear nonchalant, but there was an unmistakable tension in his features. "Yeah, everything's fine," he said quickly, too quickly. "Just... wanted to see if you two are home."

"Sure we are," Vito said, his voice warm but with an edge of suspicion creeping into his tone. "What's going on?" He studied his younger brother closely, noting the way his hands fidgeted at his sides, how his eyes refused to meet his gaze.

Matteo bit his lip, looking down at the floor for a long moment, and then back up at his older brothers. His voice dropped to a whisper, as if unsure if he wanted to say it out loud. "I... had a nightmare," he admitted, almost too quietly for them to hear. "I just wanted to see if you are still here." Vito sighed at Matteo's words, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to press in on him. He stepped forward slowly, his eyes softening with concern. His brother looked so small in that moment.

"You thought I would leave?" Vito's voice was gentle, yet filled with quiet disbelief. He reached out, placing a hand on Matteo's shoulder, grounding him. "Matteo, I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, always. For you. For all of you." Matteo looked up at him then, his eyes wide and glossy, as though he were fighting to hold back tears. The facade of the tough boy he usually put on was slipping, and Vito could see the fear and hurt that he was trying so hard to hide. "Come on," Vito said, his tone shifting to one of gentle authority. "Let's get you back to bed. You need rest. Shall I read you something?"

Matteos eyes lighted up. "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Chapter 23?"

"Again?" Vito inhaled and exhaled deeply, while Domenico chuckled. "Sure, why not."