Luca should have gone home. After the long day at school where Matteo wouldn't shut up, where teachers barely looked at him and where he felt like a ghost in his own life, he should have gone home.
But instead, his feet carried him back to the alley. Back to Santi. The older artist was already there, leaning against a crumbling brick wall and smoking a cigarette. His latest mural stretched behind him, a golden phoenix rising from the ashes with its wings splashed with streaks of blue.
Santi glanced up, smirking. "Took you long enough, ragazzo." Luca shoved his hands in his pockets. "I wasn't sure if I should come."
Santi exhaled a slow stream of smoke. "But you did." Luca didn't respond. Because deep down, he knew the truth. He couldn't stay away.
As soon as he picked up the spray can, something clicked inside him. The weight of the day and of the past few weeks of a lifetime of being a disappointment, all disappeared.
He wasn't Luca Varela anymore. He was Scarlet.
The world blurred around him as he worked. His movements were fast and confident like his hands already knew what they wanted to create before his mind caught up.
Tonight, it was a wolf standing at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the dark void below but not stepping back.
Santi watched from the side, nodding approvingly. "You're getting faster." Luca didn't answer. Because for the first time in his life, he wasn't thinking. He was just painting.
Then, a voice cut through the alley. Sharp. Cold. Familiar. "Lucian?" Luca's blood froze.
He turned slowly, his heart slamming against his ribs. His mother stood at the mouth of the alley.
Valentina Rossi-Varela; always perfectly dressed, always poised and always in control stood on the filthy pavement, her icy stare locked onto him.
And beside her, his father. Dr. Alessandro Varela, expression blank but eyes filled with disgust. Luca's breath caught in his throat. They had found him. They had seen him. And they looked at him like he was trash.
For a moment, no one spoke. Santi, sensing trouble, took a slow drag of his cigarette and stepped back, raising his hands. "I think this is my cue to leave."
He flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushed it under his heel and disappeared into the night. Luca was alone. Alone with them.
His mother's eyes swept over the alley with the broken walls, the graffiti-covered dumpsters, the smell of old rain and cigarettes. Her lip curled in disgust.
"Is this where you've been sneaking off to?" she said, voice sharp as glass. Luca couldn't speak.
His father stepped closer, arms crossed. "Do you have any idea what you look like right now?" Luca didn't answer. Because he already knew.
To them, he looked like a failure. A disgrace. A street rat covered in paint, lowering himself to something beneath their perfect family.
His mother's eyes flicked to the mural of the wolf at the edge of the cliff. Her expression hardened. "You've embarrassed us, Lucian." Luca felt his stomach drop.
Embarrassed them. That's what this was about. Not him. Not what made him feel alive. Just their reputation. Luca's fingers curled into fists.
He had spent his whole life trying to make them proud. But it had never been enough. No matter how hard he tried at school, he failed. No matter how invisible he made himself at home, they still looked at him like a disappointment.
And now, the one thing he was good at, the one thing that made him feel like he mattered. They wanted to take that away too. His breath came sharp, unsteady.
He met his father's gaze and for the first time in his life, he asked the question that had haunted him forever. "Do you even care if I'm happy?" Silence.
His father's jaw tightened. "This isn't about happiness, Lucian. It's about your future."
Luca let out a sharp laugh. "You mean the future you want. The one where I pretend to be something I'm not just so I don't embarrass you." His mother's nostrils flared. "You don't understand what you're throwing away."
"No," Luca shot back, voice rising. "You don't understand. You don't see me. You never have." His heartbeat was out of control now, his emotions rushing to the surface.
He had spent his whole life trying to fit into the world they wanted for him. And it had nearly destroyed him. No more.
He had never raised his voice to his parents before. Never talked back. Never fought back.
But something inside him had snapped. His mother scoffed, crossing her arms. "Don't be dramatic, Lucian. This is a phase. A childish rebellion. You're not an artist. You're…." I'm not you."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them. His mother froze. His father's face darkened. Luca didn't stop.
"I'll never be like you. I'll never be a doctor. I'll never be some perfect, obedient son who follows every rule just to make you look good."
His chest heaved, the weight of years of disappointment crushing him.
"I fail at everything you care about," he said bitterly. "And you know why? Because I hate it. I hate all of it. But this…."
He turned, pointing at the wolf on the wall, the vibrant strokes of red and black standing out against the city's decay.
"This is the only thing that's ever made me feel like I exist." His mother's jaw clenched. "You exist because we raised you. We gave you a life, an opportunity to be something more than…"
She gestured vaguely at the alley, at the paint staining his hands, her expression full of disgust. "This."
Luca's stomach twisted. They weren't listening. They never had. His father let out a slow, measured breath and rubbed his temples. "You're throwing your life away," he said, voice dangerous.
His mother nodded, voice cutting like a blade. "You have no future in this." Luca's heart pounded.
He had spent his whole life failing in their world; a world of exams, medical careers and perfection.
But here? Here, he wasn't a failure. Here, he was Scarlet. And they were telling him that it wasn't enough. That he wasn't enough. His hands curled into fists.
His whole life, he had stayed silent. Let them talk for him. Let them decide who he should be. No more.
"I'd rather throw away the life you want for me," he said, voice raw, "than spend the rest of it being miserable."
His mother's lips pressed into a thin line. His father's stare was ice-cold. Luca didn't look away. For the first time, he wasn't afraid of them.
The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. Finally, his father let out a slow breath and straightened his tie.
"We've done everything for you," he said quietly. Luca let out a bitter laugh. "No. You did everything for yourselves."
His mother's expression flickered just for a second like she wanted to say something more. But she didn't. She just turned away. Her heels clicked sharply against the pavement as she walked back toward the car.
His father followed. Not another glance. Not another word. Like he wasn't even worth arguing with.
Luca's throat tightened but he forced himself to stay still, to not care. They weren't going to change. And he wasn't going to stop.
When they were gone, Luca stood there for a long time. The alley was silent. He should have felt relieved. Freed. But instead, there was a small and sharp ache in his chest.
He had known this would happen eventually. He had known they would never accept him. But somehow, it still hurt.
A hand landed on his shoulder. Luca flinched, spinning around. Santi stood there, watching him with an unreadable expression.
"Didn't leave with them," he said. "Guess that means you made a choice." Luca let out a slow breath, staring at his mural. The wolf standing at the edge of the cliff, staring down but never backing away.
Maybe it had been a choice. Or maybe…It was never a choice at all. This was who he was. And now, the whole world would know it.