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Stray Kids au (italian boy version)

Bang Chan as Riccardo Martini

Born and raised in the bustling outskirts of Rome, Riccardo Martini grew up in a tight-knit, working-class neighborhood where the smell of laundry soap and Sunday ragù filled the stairwells, and neighbors still shouted across balconies like family. There was a particular stillness to the early mornings in the outskirts of Rome, just before the city opened its mouth and roared. A fragile pause, where the burnt scent of espresso drifted from open windows, and the echo of a distant Vespa hummed like a lullaby. Riccardo Martini had grown up in that quiet — that narrow margin of calm between obligation and noise.

He was the eldest of three in a household that spun on the axis of his mother’s resilience, a strong willed single mother. A woman with strong hands, calloused from hospital double shifts as a nurse and late-night ironing, who never raised her voice but never had to. She ruled the small apartment like a conductor — timing meals with bus schedules, budgets with rent, and still managing to hum along to Eros Ramazzotti as she folded laundry. Riccardo watched her with a reverence he never spoke aloud. She was his first rhythm — patient, consistent, unyielding.

From a young age, Riccardo had an ear — not just for notes, but for rhythm, tone, silence. At six, he dismantled his cousin’s broken stereo and rebuilt it using scrap parts. At eight, he was borrowing his uncle’s dusty guitar. By twelve, he was writing rough instrumental compositions in a tattered notebook his mother kept tucked in a drawer like it was something sacred. And though he’d never admit it, the only reason he survived the gray haze of adolescence — the loneliness of being the “responsible one,” the pressure of holding things together — was because of those melodies no one else heard.

He was a quiet kid. Observant. Mature. Not shy. Just… tuned differently. While other boys played calcio in the courtyard until sunset, Riccardo was on the balcony with headphones on, scribbling lyrics, watching the sky change color over the rooftops of the city he both loved and felt trapped in. He listened to the world in layers: the creak of old elevators, the hush of wind through alleyways, the tinny laughter of neighbors on balconies. To him, everything was a kind of song — waiting to be caught.

Rome was beautiful, but heavy. Like a place that remembered too much. Riccardo loved it fiercely — the food, the voices, the city that never shut up — but he also longed to breathe differently. To exist outside of the corners people kept pushing him into: the good son, the helpful brother, the one who didn’t make trouble. Music wasn’t rebellion. It was salvation.

In high school, Riccardo stood out without ever trying to. He wasn’t the loudest or the most confident — but people gravitated toward him. He had a calm that drew others in. He defended the quieter kids, helped classmates with group projects even if he did most of the work himself. He listened more than he spoke, but when he did speak — it mattered.

Music became not just a passion but a survival tool. Between the pressure to help at home, keep his grades high, and be the “man of the house,” composing was the one space he could fully breathe in. He played small gigs in local bars by the time he was seventeen. His dream wasn’t fame — it was freedom. To create without limits. To finally be somewhere where people understood that music wasn’t a hobby, it was oxygen.

He applied to Milan’s conservatorio with hands shaking. He didn’t tell anyone when he submitted the form. When the acceptance letter came, his mother cried like she’d been holding her breath for years. He left for Milan two months later with one suitcase, two notebooks, and a promise to never forget where he came from.

He arrived in Milan with one suitcase and two notebooks: one filled with lyrics, the other with lists. Rent to pay. Studio contacts to email. Shifts to take. While the other students wandered wide-eyed through Corso Buenos Aires or queued for aperitivo in Brera, Riccardo mapped out a budget and found a shared flat with creaky floors and questionable heating. He didn’t come here to play. He came to work.

Milan was a shock. Faster. Colder. More polished. Where Rome was loud and chaotic and warm, Milan was steel and angles and tempo. But Riccardo adjusted — not by changing who he was, but by adapting. He picked up part-time work in recording studios, helped edit tracks for film students, did mixing for small indie artists. He became known in his faculty as the guy who could quietly save your project last-minute without asking for credit. And People started noticing — not because he demanded attention, but because he earned it. Professors respected his precision. Classmates came to him when deadlines loomed. He never bragged. He just fixed things. That was Riccardo. The quiet fixer.

In Milan, he met people who were nothing like him — and it fascinated him. He formed friendships slowly, cautiously, but when he let someone in, he meant it. He’s the one you call at 3 AM. The one who carries someone else’s weight without complaint. The one who reads the room before he speaks. Not because he’s shy — but because he cares enough to listen first.

His room became a sanctuary of tangled cords, warm lighting, half-drunk coffees, and hours of composition that blurred into dawn. He wasn’t chasing fame. He was building something else — something cleaner. Something that mattered.

And somewhere along the way, he met people who cracked through his solitude. Federico with his chaos and color. Giulio with his unfiltered thoughts and endless poetry. Edoardo, who saw beauty where Riccardo saw blueprint. They were different — scattered, brilliant, intense. But Riccardo needed them. And they, perhaps without realizing, needed him too.

Riccardo Martini doesn’t arrive with a bang. He doesn’t announce himself. He settles into a space like a melody you didn’t know was missing until it’s there — steady, warm, grounding. He doesn’t command attention, but he holds it. Quietly. Unshakably. There’s something about him — not obvious, not loud — that makes people pause, even if they don’t understand why.

He’s the kind of person who notices things most people miss. The way someone’s voice trembles before bad news. The scratch on a vinyl cover. The shift in light through a curtain as afternoon slides into dusk. He remembers details. How you take your coffee. What song you were humming under your breath. That one book you mentioned once but never finished.

Riccardo was never one to chase the spotlight. Praise doesn’t feed him. Purpose does. He works late, often until the city has gone silent, tinkering with melodies or lost in layers of sound — building tracks that speak more than words could. He thrives in that space between discipline and passion, where art becomes structure, and structure becomes freedom. For him, music isn’t just creation. It’s control in a world that too often spins beyond it.

He wears things until they soften. His leather jacket smells of espresso and rain, dark jeans, soft cotton shirts. His notebooks are worn at the edges, ink bleeding through pages he refuses to tear out. Always has a pen on him, but never lends it — not out of selfishness, but principle. Some things, like ideas and boundaries, are sacred. You don’t hand them over lightly.

His likes are subtle, textured. Mornings before the world wakes, the ritual of making coffee, the hiss of vinyl, overcast skies, the way Milan softens under snow, intimate concerts, studio sessions that run till dawn, black licorice, long walks when the city empties. On the other end, he dislikes performance without depth, like people who talk to be heard, superficial ambition, dishonesty wrapped in politeness, big egos in small rooms, over production in music, thee sound of chewing, disrespect, especially when subtle and definitely wasting time — his or anyone else’s.

He has his faults. Of course, he does. He holds things in too long. Doesn’t always know how to ask for help. Struggles with stillness when it isn’t chosen. He’s terrible at small talk, sometimes distant when he’s too deep in his own thoughts. There’s a restlessness to him — a need to move forward, even if no one’s chasing him. Sleep, for him, is not rest. It’s interruption.

There are nights he can’t shut his mind down. When music isn’t enough to drown out the noise of expectation — of memory. He smokes sometimes, when the pressure coils too tight, leaning out his window with a hand in his hair and a jaw set too hard. Not a chain smoker. Not proud of it either. Just moments. Little rebellions. Quiet escapes.

His addiction, if anything, is perfection. The need to get it right — the mix, the timing, the tone. He’ll play the same sequence twenty, thirty times. Not out of obsession, but hunger. For clarity. For that clean, undeniable moment when a song finally breathes on its own.

He’s a protector by nature — not in the overt, chest-puffed way, but in quiet gestures. He listens. He stays. He remembers. He never walks away when it matters. He’s the one you call at 3:00 a.m. when things fall apart — not because he’ll fix it all, but because he won’t flinch when you show him the wreckage.

He keeps few people close. Not out of arrogance, but care. He believes in slow trust. In building something brick by brick. Once you’re in, you’re in. And Riccardo loves fiercely, though he rarely uses the word. For him, loyalty is louder than affection. And he has a softness, buried deep — the kind of softness that comes from carrying too much, for too long, without complaint.

His hobbies are quiet, almost monk-like: collecting rare records from old markets, reworking classic Italian ballads into modern compositions, watching vintage films — Tornatore, Pasolini, sometimes even Kurosawa, reading interviews with musicians rather than biographies and taking midnight bike rides when the streets are empty and the world feels gentle again. He’s not trying to impress. He’s trying to create something real. Something that outlasts him. A sound. A feeling. A moment frozen in time.

Riccardo Martini is the silence that comes after a beautiful song — the kind you don’t want to break. He’s the anchor, the rhythm beneath the chaos. The one who stays. Who listens. Who makes you believe, even for a moment, that something sacred still exists in this world.

And when he plays — when he really lets go — the world stops spinning. Just long enough to remind you what it means to feel.

Family Background

Riccardo’s family wasn’t the kind of family you brought to TV shows. But it was the kind you’d fight for. Every time. No questions asked. The kind of place where the dinner table was too small, the fridge was too loud, and love showed up in practical ways: a plate kept warm, a text at midnight, a folded hoodie left on the bed before an early shift. There was no shouting. No chaos. Just the slow, heavy rhythm of survival. Coffee at 6:00 a.m., dishes stacked by 8:00 p.m., a kiss on the forehead that meant more than a hundred “I love you”s. They didn’t always talk, but they understood each other.

Monica, mother (ER Nurse, 55) — worked double shifts for most of Riccardo’s childhood. Quiet strength, no-nonsense love, the kind of woman who held her own grief behind gritted teeth and coffee cups. Their bond is steel-threaded. Riccardo respects her like no one else. He rarely says “I love you,” but calls her before every gig, every exam, every breakdown. She taught him how to survive, but more importantly — how to stay kind. He still calls her “Ma’.” She still tells him to eat more.

Marco, father (age unknown, estranged) — left when Riccardo was 8. Scattered contact for a few years, then nothing. Said he had dreams. Said he’d send money. Didn’t. Their bond is none. Riccardo doesn’t talk about him. If you bring him up, Riccardo changes the subject. The only trace of his father is Riccardo’s quiet fear of becoming unreliable himself. He once saw his name on a contact form and scratched it out.

Davide, younger brother (studying computer science in Rome, 19) — smart, withdrawn, a bit anxious. Always the “quiet one.” Thinks in code, not feelings. Grew up watching Riccardo leave for the North — admires him but doesn’t know how to say it. Their bond is based on wires and awkward texts. Riccardo makes an effort — sends music links, checks in before exams, helps him with rent. They don’t say much on calls, but the silence feels safe. Davide wears Riccardo’s old headphones like armor.

Annalisa, younger sister (high school senior, dreams of studying sociology or political science, 17) — fiery, opinionated, always in trouble for correcting teachers. She’s the one who challenges Riccardo the most — calls out his hypocrisy, teases him relentlessly. But she’s also the first to defend him if anyone speaks ill. Their bond is volcanic but unbreakable. She sends him voice notes when she’s upset, and he always listens. He sometimes overprotects her — she hates it. But she knows he’d drop everything if she asked. She calls him “il saggio scemo” — the wise idiot. Only she’s allowed.

Friends

Antonello (from Rome) — actor, part-time bartender, full-time chaos. Met Riccardo during a summer trip home. They knew each other vaguely from high school — Antonello was that loud-mouth kid always cracking jokes in religion class. They reconnected at a dive bar in Trastevere, where Antonello jumped behind the counter mid-shift and started mixing drinks for free. Riccardo just shook his head. Antonello’s the wildcard. The storyteller. The guy who brings drama, flirts with everything that breathes, and cries watching La Vita è Bella. He and Riccardo argue constantly — about loyalty, art, masculinity, ethics — but they always leave the table with a clink of glasses and some vulgar joke only Romans could get away with.

Marcella (from Rome) — philosophy student, radical, sharp-tongued, impossibly patient. They met during a protest outside a university building. Marcella had a megaphone and a black eye from the night before — refused to explain it. Riccardo handed her a bottle of water. She called him “borghesuccio” (bourgeois boy). He smirked and said: “You sound like Pasolini with a hangover.” Now they meet for espresso and argue about Sartre vs. Arendt. She critiques his lyrics. He edits her essays. She never lies, never flatters, and Riccardo needs that — someone who sees through performance and loves you anyway.

Gianni (from Milan) — sociology grad student, knows everyone, DJs for fun, ex-skater. He met Gianni at a rooftop jam session in Lambrate. Gianni wore ripped cargos, had half a mullet, and handed Riccardo a spliff like they were old friends. “You’re the Roman, right? Thought you’d be taller.” Gianni’s the glue. He doesn’t judge, doesn’t push. Just holds space. He brings people together: Giulio, Cesare, Federico — half of them met through him. His apartment is where they crash after long nights, talk politics over spaghetti at 3AM, cry when shit gets too heavy. Everyone owes Gianni something — and he never cashes in.

Claudia (from Milan) — film student, shoots everything on Super 8, smokes like a chimney. He met Claudia at an open mic when she was filming a short about loneliness in urban spaces. He thought she was pretentious — until he saw her footage. It made him cry. She shrugged and said, “It’s not about being sad. It’s about not lying.” Now she documents their lives in fragments. Smoking in alleyways, Giulio reciting poetry in an abandoned stairwell, Cesare pacing in silence. Claudia doesn’t speak much — just captures. But when she does talk, it’s like cutting glass. Riccardo calls her “la lente” — the lens.

Leonardo (Lee Know) — disciplined, focused, cool exterior, loyal to the bone. They met at a small contemporary dance workshop in Isola, Milan — Riccardo had signed up to explore rhythm through movement for a production class, and Leonardo was there fine-tuning footwork for an upcoming piece. Riccardo noticed him instantly — precise, unreadable, nearly clinical in execution. Not a wasted motion. Not a single glance at the mirror unless it was necessary. They partnered for an exercise on syncopation. Riccardo was stiff. Leonardo didn’t sugarcoat it. “You think too much with your head. Let your chest decide.” It wasn’t rude — it was true. And Riccardo respected it. Their bond is built on mutual rigor — two perfectionists, quietly understanding the pressure of always needing to be a little better than yesterday. Riccardo sees in Leonardo someone who demands excellence not out of ego, but love for the craft. He often makes sure Leonardo eats, stretches, breathes. In time, Leonardo begins to trust Riccardo with the parts of himself he keeps hidden: the bruises behind his knees, the anxiety of being overlooked, the way he freezes before performances. Riccardo doesn’t try to fix it — just stands behind him, steady as stone.

Cesare (Changbin) — straightforward, loud, tough appearance with an heart that melts like an ice-cream in the sun. They met at an underground music showcase in Milan. Riccardo had just moved for university and was networking at a local music collective where Cesare occasionally freestyled or worked beats with people from the hip-hop circuit. Riccardo clocked Cesare immediately — the brooding guy in the corner with headphones on, nodding to beats but not speaking. Riccardo approached him, asked what he thought of the mix. Cesare just looked up and said: “Troppo pulito. Manca il sudore.” (“Too clean. Needs sweat.”). It was the start of a creative rivalry, then an intense friendship. Like yin and yang. Riccardo’s warmth balances Cesare’s sharp edge. They often argue about rhythm, politics, authenticity — but there’s profound respect under it. Riccardo’s one of the few people Cesare trusts with his lyrics. Their arguments are explosive, but their loyalty is unshakable. Riccardo knows when to challenge Cesare — and when to just sit beside him in silence.

Edoardo (Hyunjin) — dramatic, expressive, a living sculpture with soft heart. They met at a cross-department art jam at school — Riccardo needed costume help for a student showcase and saw Edoardo sketching in the corner with kohl on his lids and paint stains on his sleeves. When Riccardo asked if he’d be interested in designing, Edoardo barely looked up and said, “Only if I can make it hurt a little.” The partnership was electric. Edoardo stitched anguish and grace into every look. Riccardo laid sound under the garments like heartbeat. They didn’t talk much — until they did, and then they couldn’t stop. About music videos that made them cry. About the cruelty of beauty. Riccardo is a grounding anchor for Edoardo — the one who doesn’t flinch when he spirals, doesn’t mock when he weeps. He knows when to let Edoardo dissolve in velvet and silence, and when to snap him out of it with black coffee and a reminder: “You’re more than what they see.” In turn, Edoardo brings out Riccardo’s hidden softness — his buried romanticism, his fear of being seen, his unspoken desire to be beautiful, too.

Giulio (Jisung) — vulnerable, brilliant, living proof of the Cheshire Cat. They met in the studio. Not the professional kind — the kind tucked under a laundromat, with mold on the ceiling and cables taped to the floor. Giulio had just arrived from Bologna, fast-talking and wide-eyed, too skinny for the oversized denim jacket he wore like armor. Riccardo didn’t notice him at first — until he heard someone laughing behind the mic, mid-take. Not mocking — genuinely amused. Riccardo stopped the track. “You got something to say?” Giulio grinned. “Yeah. You play that loop again and I’m gonna fall asleep standing.” Everyone went silent. Riccardo raised an eyebrow. “Then fix it.” Giulio did. In twenty minutes. The beat he built was unorthodox — messy, raw, brilliant. Giulio and Riccardo have a profoundly emotional bond. Riccardo sees in Giulio all the things he once tried to hide: softness, yearning, fear of not being enough. He protects Giulio without smothering him — offers structure without killing the chaos. He helps Giulio finish poems, reminds him to sleep, listens when Giulio spirals about being “too much” or “too dramatic.” And in return, Giulio makes Riccardo feel again — cracks his armor with poetry, kisses on the cheek, and spontaneous joy.

Federico (Felix) — ridiculously stylish, cheerful, sometimes he plays fool to catch wise. They met backstage at a student showcase where Riccardo was doing the ambient set between fashion segments. Federico brushed past him in a vintage velvet blazer, doc martens, and a pearl earring — not just styled, but curated. Riccardo, half-judging, asked: “Don’t you get tired dressing like a magazine cover?” Federico didn’t blink. “Don’t you get tired dressing like a heartbreak?” It should’ve been a standoff. But Riccardo grinned — and Federico winked. Their friendship is based on mutual contradiction: Federico is flamboyant but deeply observant. Riccardo is restrained but intensely emotional. Federico calls Riccardo “il Prete” (“the Priest”) when he gets too stoic. Riccardo calls Federico “La Diva” when he takes too long to pick a jacket. But they talk about identity, masks, how the body becomes armor — and how art is sometimes the only way to survive being looked at. Federico’s one of the few people Riccardo trusts enough to open up emotionally — usually after 2AM, a drink too many, and some Lucio Dalla playing low in the background.

Vittorio (Seungmin) — intellectual, dry wit, thoughtful observer. They crossed paths at a music-for-film seminar in Milan. Riccardo was presenting a piece he’d scored for a short film — Vittorio sat in the back, arms crossed, unimpressed. After the session, he came up and said: “The strings were manipulative. But the silence? That was genius.” Riccardo didn’t know whether to thank him or slap him. They got coffee instead. Their bond is based on deep creative respect and philosophical debate. They argue over ethics in film, talk about Tarkovsky and Fellini until sunrise, send each other obscure essays and forgotten scores. Riccardo respects that Vittorio never panders, and Vittorio trusts Riccardo to deliver sound that speaks to the soul, not the spotlight. Vittorio becomes like a cousin you didn’t ask for but would take a bullet for — emotionally restrained, sarcastic as hell, but deeply loyal. When Riccardo is in trouble, Vittorio doesn’t offer comfort. He shows up at his door and says, “Come on. I brought food.”

Valerio (Jeongin) — stubborn, meticulous, sardonic, quiet or not quiet at all. They met at a shared project mixer hosted by their department — Riccardo was fiddling with cables on the wrong channel, and Valerio leaned in without a word and just fixed it. Not smug. Just efficient. “Cable A goes to Input 2. Otherwise, you’re gonna kill your highs.” Riccardo blinked. “Thanks.” Valerio just nodded and walked off. Like a cat who did you a favor and doesn’t need your gratitude. Valerio is the youngest, most withdrawn, and hardest to read. But Riccardo treats him with silent tenderness — not infantilizing, just present. He knows Valerio won’t open up easily. So he never pushes. Instead, he brings snacks to the studio, lets Valerio fall asleep on the mixing couch, reminds him quietly that he’s doing well. Riccardo sees Valerio’s genius — his surgical mind, his stubborn pride — and wants to protect it. He doesn’t compliment often. But when he does, Valerio pretends not to care, then saves the voice memo in a secret folder. Their bond is quiet loyalty. Riccardo will fight anyone who underestimates him. And Valerio, for all his silence, would burn down a city if someone hurt Riccardo.

Neighborhoods

Trastevere, Rome (where he grew up) — narrow cobbled alleys. Graffiti that tells stories. The smell of fried artichokes and cigarettes. He grew up in a third-floor walk-up with green shutters, raised by a single mother who played Eros records on Sunday mornings. Trastevere shaped his rhythm — its mix of history and rebellion, its rawness. He learned how to observe people here. It gave him edge and tenderness.

Isola, Milan (where he lives now) — a contrast to Trastevere, colder, more vertical, but quietly artistic. He chose Isola for its duality: old Milanese charm meets post-industrial grit. Street murals. Indie cafés. Musicians on balconies. It suits him: a place where he can disappear, yet remain surrounded by sound.

Favorite Italian artists

His playlists aren’t curated to impress — they’re honest, layered with nostalgia and rebellion.

Fabrizio De André – his anchor. The pillar. The poet. The eternal echo in Riccardo’s bones. De André doesn’t just write songs — he writes people. Marginalized voices, quiet dignity, layered truths. Riccardo finds safety in that humanity. There’s a compassion in De André’s lyrics that mirrors Riccardo’s own way of seeing the world: clearly, but with grace. Fave track, “Coda di lupo” -> Not the most obvious pick — but fierce. It’s about rebellion, transformation, and legacy. A soft song with teeth. It’s a song about remembering where you came from — and carrying it, no matter how heavy.

Mango — he blends sensuality and mysticism in a way Riccardo is obsessed with. That voice — pure falsetto, emotional without being theatrical. Mango makes you feel like you’re underwater, somewhere between heartbreak and rebirth. Riccardo listens to him when he’s alone in the studio, lights low, half-drunk on memory. Fave track, “La rondine” -> it’s delicate but devastating. A metaphor about departure and return. The way Mango sings “amore” here hits him like a breath he forgot to take. Reminds him of someone he lost, or maybe just never had.

Ludovico Einaudi — Einaudi gives space. His minimalism is emotional without trying to be. Stillness. Reflection. Sometimes silence says more than words. Fave track, “Fly” -> he plays this when writing lyrics. It makes everything clearer, like fog lifting from thought. It’s what he imagines falling in love in a snowstorm sounds like.

Adriano Celentano — charisma, irony, a bit of rock’n’roll — the older brother Riccardo never had. Celentano’s rhythm is timeless. He brought American sound to Italy, but kept it deeply Italian. Riccardo admires the effortless blending of charm and bite. There’s also a theatricality to Celentano that Riccardo never claims for himself, but secretly enjoys. Fave track, “L’emozione non ha voce” -> One of Celentano’s slower, more reflective songs. Melancholic, romantic, achingly sincere. It reminds Riccardo of his first heartbreak — the girl who loved his music but not his silences.

Subsonica — for his modern side. The studio side. The producer in him. Clean beats, tight production, emotional restraint. Riccardo admires the structure — the tension. When he’s mixing his own tracks, Subsonica plays in the background, like a metronome for precision and mood. Fave track, “Nuova Ossessione” -> It’s the kind of track that moves without yelling. Riccardo respects that — intensity without desperation. It reminds him that some obsessions are productive — music, discipline, memory — and others are not. He’s still learning the difference.

Favorite dishes

Cacio e pepe — the comfort dish. His mother made it every Friday when the fridge was empty. He still makes it with too much pepper.

Cannoli (Sicilian-made, don’t mess with him on this) — he doesn’t have a sweet tooth, except for this. He eats them slowly. Ritualistically. Texture matters to him.

Pane carasau with pecorino and honey — sardinian crispbread — he discovered it while traveling alone. It’s dry and sweet and rough around the edges. Like a moment you didn’t expect to matter.

Risotto allo zafferano – milan in a dish. He rarely makes it, but orders it in his favorite trattoria on Via Vigevano when something needs celebrating.

Pane e pomodoro – his nonna’s go-to. Warm bread. Crushed tomato. Olive oil like a benediction. No frills, just intention.

Favorite movies

He loves cinema that lingers — quiet frames, long silences, emotional violence wrapped in visual softness.

La leggenda del pianista sull’oceano (1998) by Tornatore — it’s about a pianist who never sets foot on land. Riccardo relates — living always slightly off-world, on his own terms. The piano duel — beauty meeting arrogance. The absurd tension of genius.

Lost in Translation (2003) by Sofia Coppola — it captures the ache of connection and disconnection. That feeling of floating, of reaching out in a place that doesn’t speak your language — metaphorically and literally. A scene that breaks him? The whisper in the final scene. We never hear it. It’s everything he’s ever left unsaid.

The Double Life of Véronique (1991) by Krzysztof Kieślowski — duality. Fate. Art as a mirror of the self. Riccardo plays this on rainy days and lets himself dissolve into the soundscape. The marionette performance is a scene he is obsessed over. He says it’s like watching a soul being puppeteered.

The Lives of Others (2006) by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck — surveillance, resistance, art — but told through stillness. Riccardo admires the watcher slowly becoming human. The man listening through headphones, hearing the pianist cry is a scene he replays too many times. The music changes him. That, Riccardo believes, is the real point of art.

Favorite writers

Cesare Pavese — bleak. Sparse. Poetic. Like standing in front of a lake and knowing it’s too cold to swim, but diving in anyway. Riccardo feels Pavese’s loneliness. The kind that doesn’t scream — it sinks in quietly. “Il mestiere di vivere” (The Business of Living – diaries) -> Pavese’s vulnerability is brutal. Riccardo reads a page at a time. He says it’s “not literature, it’s blood.”

Alessandro Baricco — lyrical prose with a fevered pulse. Always something a little mad underneath. For Riccardo, Baricco represents elegance that doesn’t compromise passion. Literary, but musical. “Castelli di rabbia”, it’s surreal, tragic, and whimsical all at once. He loves how Baricco breaks logic in favor of emotion. It reads like a hallucination — exactly Riccardo’s tempo.

Joan Didion — sparse, surgical. Never sentimental. But still devastating. She writes emptiness like no one else. Riccardo relates to her distance — her ability to analyze pain without drowning in it. “Play It As It Lays”, a woman unraveling in slow motion. LA heat. Blank spaces. Riccardo calls it “despair in a convertible.”

David Foster Wallace — dense. Neurotic. Hyper-aware. Riccardo likes things that don’t let you relax. DFW is mental chaos with intent. He pushes the limits of what writing can be. Riccardo doesn’t always enjoy it — but that’s why he returns to it. “Brief Interviews with Hideous Men”, it’s brutal. Narcissistic. Dissecting masculinity with a scalpel. Riccardo read it after a fight and couldn’t look at himself in the mirror for a week.

Favorite seaside spots

San Vito Lo Capo (Sicily) – for the food, the sunsets, the chaos that somehow feels sacred.

Sperlonga (Lazio) – a day-trip spot from his youth. It feels like his brothers’ laughter is still echoing off the cliffs.

Camogli (Liguria) – tiny, a little forgotten. He goes in late September when it’s already emptying out.

Bosa (Sardinia) — old, pink houses. Barely anyone around. Seclusion. He loves the wind there — dry, constant. Time slows down.

Most used slang words

Ao’ — literal meaning: none, it’s an interjection, like “Hey!” and it’s used to call someone’s attention. Short, direct, unmistakably Roman. He’ll say it low under his breath when frustrated, or in a teasing tone when Giulio messes up in the studio. It’s a verbal eyebrow raise. It’s in his mouth constantly. A reflex, not a choice.

Annamo bene… — literal meaning “We’re doing just great…” actual usage: sarcastic, like “We’re screwed”. He uses it with dry humor. He doesn’t panic — he deadpans this and keeps going. It’s his way of handling chaos. usually said while rubbing his forehead in disbelief.

’Namo — in italian is the short roman way for “Andiamo” (Let’s go). It has that casual Roman rhythm, like he’s not rushing anyone, but they better move. Especially used when everyone’s dragging their feet.

Daje — literal meaning: “Give it!” but actual usage is “Come on!” / “Let’s go!” / “Hell yeah!”. It’s his way of expressing restrained enthusiasm. He doesn’t shout it — he murmurs it with a tight smile when the mix finally sounds right. It’s the quiet pulse of momentum.

Sta cosa m’ammazza — “this thing is killing me”, not literal — just very tired, very overwhelmed.

Most used slurs

Riccardo doesn’t use discriminatory language. But he will curse in frustration, especially in Roman dialect, or drop sharp one-liners when angry.

Minchia (technically Sicilian, but adopted widely) — literal meaning: “Dick” but used like: “Damn,” “Holy shit,” “What the hell”. A Sicilian word he picked up from an ex. It’s funnier when he says it, half-under his breath. Usually in reaction to something shocking or ridiculous.

Cristo santo — is an Italian expression that translates to "Christ, holy one" or "Holy Christ" in English. It's often used as an exclamation to express surprise, shock, or even frustration, similar to phrases like "Oh my God" or "For Christ’s sake". Riccardo uses it to convey strong emotions.

Mortacci tua — literal meaning: “Your damn dead relatives”. Deeply Roman. Both poetic and offensive. Used when truly pissed. Rare, but serious. He says it under his breath when everything crashes in the studio at 2am. It’s never thrown casually. When he says it, it means something.

Che cazzo fai? — literal meaning “What the fuck are you doing?” Sharp tone, but rarely angry. Just startled.

Representatives phrases

Le cose vere fanno rumore piano [ real things make quiet noise ] reason: Riccardo’s philosophy in the studio. Perfection takes time. So does healing. He said this once in a late-night session. Giulio wrote it on a wall.

Se non lo senti nello stomaco, non vale [ if you don’t feel it in your gut, it doesn’t count ] reason: whether it’s music, people, or truth — Riccardo only believes in what hits deep.

La perfezione mi fa paura [ perfection scares me ] reason: he doesn’t trust what’s too smooth. It’s the cracks that make something human.

Favorite idioms

Avoja a dì [ you could say it a thousand times ] meaning: no matter what you say, it won’t change anything / it’s pointless. Used when someone keeps repeating something that won’t make a difference. There’s something fatalistic and freeing in it. He’ll say it with a shrug, especially after arguments.

Stare con un piede in due scarpe [ to have a foot in two shoes ] meaning: to be indecisive or two-faced. Riccardo uses it critically — hates people who aren’t clear about where they stand.

Chi semina vento raccoglie tempesta [ those who sow wind, reap storms ] meaning: actions have consequences. Riccardo heard this from his nonna growing up. It’s stayed with him. He quotes it when people try to justify cruelty or chaos.

[vmygdvlv]

Stray Kids AU (italian boy version) ;

Seo Changbin as Cesare Amato

Cesare grew up in Quartieri Spagnoli, a neighborhood in Naples where life moved to the beat of its own pulse, and where shadows were cast longer than they should have been by the faded streetlights. It was a place of contrasts: a narrow labyrinth of alleyways where scooters zipped through like bullets and voices echoed off crumbling walls. It was a place filled with energy, but also tension, where the lines between right and wrong, legal and illegal, were often blurred, and where the stakes of everyday life sometimes felt impossibly high. From an early age, Cesare had a keen awareness of his surroundings. He knew that the neighborhood he called home had a reputation, and not always for the best reasons.

He saw how easy it was for people to slip into the wrong crowd, to be pulled by forces they couldn’t control. Some of the kids he grew up with began to disappear, swallowed up by the darker undercurrents of the city — drugs, theft, and gang affiliations. He watched as a few of his childhood friends took paths that led them further and further from the light, seduced by the allure of quick money, status, or simply an escape from the constraints of their lives.

Yet amid this, Cesare found an anchor: his best friend, Federico. Federico, another boy from the Quartieri Spagnoli, with a laugh that could light up even the darkest alleyway, was a constant in Cesare’s life. The two had known each other since they could walk, their families connected by the shared experience of raising children in a neighborhood where innocence often felt like a fragile thing. Federico was different, in his own way — a dreamer, with a love for fashion that seemed out of place among the grit and grime of the Quartieri, but which he carried with unshakable confidence.

Federico’s warmth, his unrelenting optimism, and his bright curiosity for the world beyond their immediate surroundings created a unique bond between the two boys. While Federico was lighter, his head filled with visions of colors and fabrics, Cesare was grounded, rooted in the physicality of his body and the immediacy of his experiences. Federico’s dream of becoming a fashion designer seemed improbable to many, but not to Cesare, who saw the determination in his friend’s eyes.

They were inseparable, each providing balance to the other — Federico with his creative spirit, Cesare with his unyielding focus. Both boys were determined to rise above their circumstances, but in different ways.

His mother, Antonia, was a teacher, a woman of formidable will who fought hard to keep her children on the right side of the line. His father, Giuseppe, worked at the port, often coming home late with stories that revealed a city behind the city — a Naples that wasn’t found in guidebooks or tourist brochures. Both parents were determined to give their children something better, something more stable than what lay just outside their front door.

But Cesare was not immune to the realities of his environment. He saw how some of the boys on his street would get caught up in small-time hustles or run errands for men with hard faces and watchful eyes. He felt the pressure — that slow, creeping pull to prove himself, to be tough, to survive. Yet there was something inside him that resisted, a voice that whispered he was meant for something different.

For Cesare, this resistance was an act of defiance. He threw himself into activities that felt like they had purpose, direction, and focus. Where some sought strength through intimidation or power over others, Cesare sought it in a different way — through his own body, his own discipline. He discovered early on that he had a talent for athletics, a natural aptitude for physical strength and agility.

He found solace in weightlifting and boxing, sports that demanded not just physical prowess but mental endurance. The small, gritty gym near his home became a second refuge, a place where he could channel his energy, his anger, and his frustration. He pushed himself hard, often beyond the limits of what his body seemed capable of, driven by the need to prove something — to himself more than anyone else. Each session was a battle, not against others, but against his own doubts and fears.

Boxing taught Cesare focus, control, and the value of restraint. It sharpened his instincts, and in the rhythm of footwork and the snap of a punch, he found a kind of peace. In the mirror of the gym, he didn’t just see a boy from a tough neighborhood; he saw a fighter, someone who could carve his own path through sheer willpower and grit. He admired the precision, the strategy, the way a match could turn in an instant from brute force to calculated elegance.

But it wasn’t just the gym where Cesare found his passions. Music became a significant part of his life — not just as a listener, but as a creator. The beats of hip-hop and rap, with their stories of struggle, ambition, and survival, spoke to him in a way that felt real and immediate. He began to write his own lyrics, finding a voice for the thoughts he couldn’t express otherwise — the frustration with his surroundings, the desire for something more, the constant pull between staying loyal to his roots and breaking free of them.

In those lyrics, he found the same catharsis he found in the gym. The words came in torrents, pouring out of him late at night when the city was quieter, his headphones plugged in as he scribbled furiously in a notebook. He started recording rough tracks with friends, experimenting with beats and rhythms, his deep voice finding a natural cadence that was both aggressive and introspective.

Music gave him an outlet to speak to his experiences, his environment, and his ambitions. He loved how a song could change moods, how it could transform a room, or a person’s mindset. It was a way to reach people, to make them feel what he felt — the heat of the Naples sun, the weight of expectations, the hunger for something better.

Yet even as he immersed himself in these pursuits, Cesare remained aware of the dangers around him. He saw the traps that others fell into — the allure of quick money, the false security of joining a group or a gang for protection, the seemingly easy path that always, inevitably, led somewhere dark. He was determined not to go down that road. But that determination often left him at odds with himself, wrestling with feelings of isolation, of not fitting in entirely with his peers.

He disliked the narrowness of certain expectations — that just because he came from where he did, he should act a certain way, dress a certain way, think a certain way. He grew frustrated with stereotypes, with the way others seemed to define him before they even knew him. He hated small talk, superficial conversations that lacked depth or sincerity, and he had little patience for people who couldn’t keep up with his energy.

As he grew older, Cesare’s interests began to evolve. While he still loved the raw physicality of boxing and the creative freedom of music, he became fascinated by the idea of business — the strategy, the decision-making, the art of negotiation. It was another form of battle, another arena where he could test himself, where he could see the results of his efforts play out in real time. He began to think about how he could combine his passions, how he could build something of his own, something that reflected both where he came from and where he wanted to go.

At 18, Cesare decided to study business administration so him and Federico decided both moved to Milan for university, it was like the pieces of their puzzle falling into place. The decision wasn’t easy; he was leaving behind everything he knew, stepping into a world that was colder, more calculated, more distant. Milan was nothing like Naples. Cesare, with his more reserved and pragmatic nature, found himself frustrated at times by the polished surfaces and hidden layers of Milanese society. He missed the raw honesty of Naples, the directness with which people spoke to each other, the sense that you always knew where you stood. But he was determined to seize them.

Still, their friendship remained a constant. They rented a small apartment together, where Federico’s sketches and fabric samples began to clutter every available surface, while Cesare’s weights and boxing gear took up whatever space was left. They often stayed up late, talking about their dreams and fears, navigating their new world together, each offering the other a sense of home in a city that often felt foreign.

He threw himself into his studies with the same intensity he had always brought to everything else in his life. But he didn’t abandon his other interests. He still spent hours at the gym, maintaining his fitness routine with a near-religious fervor. He continued to write and produce music, collaborating with new friends and artists he met in Milan, using the city’s more extensive resources to refine his craft.

He started to think bigger, to dream about how he could merge his love for music and his passion for business. Maybe he’d start his own record label, or a fitness brand that combined training and lifestyle with a musical edge. He began to see himself not just as a student, or a boy from Naples, but as someone who could bridge worlds — who could bring his unique perspective to whatever he chose to do.

But even in Milan, there were struggles. He missed the warmth of his hometown, the way the sea seemed to sing at night, the rough familiarity of his old neighborhood. Sometimes, the weight of expectation, the need to succeed, felt like a burden he couldn’t shake. He had to prove himself constantly, to prove that he belonged, that he wasn’t just another kid from a tough background trying to make it in the big city.

Yet Cesare was relentless. He remained true to the lessons his environment had taught him — the value of hard work, the strength of character, the importance of staying true to oneself. He learned to navigate Milan’s more polished social circles, but he never lost his Neapolitan roots, his accent still slipping through in moments of passion, his demeanor retaining a touch of the street-smart kid who had once navigated the dangers of the Quartieri.

Now, in his early twenties, Cesare stands as a man of contrasts: both tough and introspective, a fighter and a thinker, driven by ambition but grounded by the lessons of his past. He dreams of a future where he can combine his many passions, where his business acumen can intersect with his love of music and fitness, where he can create something meaningful, something that reflects the complexity of who he is and where he’s from.

Family background

The family unit is tight-knit but strained at times. Antonia’s hopes for a different life for her boys weigh heavily on Cesare, who feels the pressure to set an example. Despite the tension, loyalty runs deep — they share meals, worries, and rare moments of laughter amid the chaos.

Antonia Amato, mother (teacher, 57) — a strict yet loving schoolteacher who’s the moral backbone of the family. She’s fiercely protective and relentless in her efforts to steer her children away from the neighborhood’s pitfalls. A woman of strong principles and sharp intellect, she often struggles to reconcile her hopes with the harsh realities her sons face.

Giuseppe Amato, father (dockworker, 60) — gruff and taciturn, Giuseppe embodies the gritty, hard-working spirit of Naples. He’s a man of few words but deep pride, imparting lessons about loyalty, resilience, and survival. His stories about the “real” Naples — the shadowy world behind the tourist façade — fascinated Cesare growing up.

Salvatore Amato, second oldest (student, 18) — still in high school, impressionable but with flashes of the same stubborn will as Cesare. Often caught between admiration and rebellion.

Raffaele Amato, youngest brother (student, 14) — quiet and thoughtful, with a surprising love for poetry and history, offering a gentle contrast to the rougher edges of the family.

Friends

Alessio — they grew up together. Played soccer in the alleyways. Got into their first street fights together. Stole cigarettes from Alessio’s uncle’s bar. They were the ones who stayed clean — barely. Blood without the bloodline. The kind of friend where no words are needed. They don’t talk every day. But when Cesare goes back to Naples, he always sees Alessio first. They’ve seen each other in their worst — bleeding, crying, broke, furious. If Cesare ever got locked up, Alessio would be the one to show up without asking why. Loyalty doesn’t need to be spoken with them — it’s bone-deep.

Vincenzo — another friend from Naples. Vincenzo was a legend in the neighborhood when Cesare was still a teen. Known for his charm, mopeds, and messy entanglements. They officially met when Vincenzo stepped in during a street fight to back Cesare up. After that, they kept in touch. Vincenzo eventually left Naples too — for Milan, after things got complicated. Like a wild older cousin. Vincenzo brings chaos with him — always a story, always half-lies. Cesare rolls his eyes but secretly likes having him around. Vincenzo doesn’t judge. He calls Cesare “Capo” with irony, but if shit hits the fan, he’s got his back. They drink together, argue, swap gossip from home — and Vincenzo reminds Cesare of who he was before Milan hardened him.

Patrizia — she was the first person in Milan who really got under his skin — in a good way. They met at a boxing gym Cesare trained at. She was there doing Muay Thai, absolutely fearless. She made fun of his form and called him “Mister Broody”. He thought she was annoying. A week later, they were sharing post-gym espresso and trauma dumping. Brother and sister energy. No flirting, no weird tension — just love and brutal honesty. She’ll roast him for his toxic masculinity one second and patch him up after a fight the next. He talks to her about things he tells no one else. She reminds him he doesn’t have to be a statue all the time. And when he messes up? She calls him out, hard — but never walks away.

Federico (Felix) — childhood best friend from Naples. They met before memory could even form. Federico lived across the alley, always the kid with paint on his fingers and holes in his jeans from climbing too much. While Cesare was already learning to survive the street’s tempo — fists, silence, and instinct — Federico was designing outfits out of paper and glue, humming while dodging scooters. Federico is Cesare’s sunlight. Always was. The only person who saw Cesare’s anger and never flinched — but also the only one who refused to romanticize it. Federico reminds Cesare that the world can be designed, shaped, colored. That survival isn’t the only goal — sometimes beauty is resistance. They laugh deeply together. Federico is the one person who hugs Cesare without asking, and Cesare lets him. He’s not just a best friend — he’s a piece of Cesare’s soul that stayed soft.

Vittorio (Seungmin) — they were both late to a morning class — hungover from different parties, showing up with espresso and zero patience. The professor paired them up for a project on “art in the digital economy.” They both rolled their eyes — but Vittorio had ideas. Big ones. Cesare respected that. Vittorio didn’t act superior, just sharp — the kind of guy who read spreadsheets like poetry and understood that selling art didn’t mean selling out. Brains and strategy. Vittorio is the one Cesare goes to when it’s time to make real moves — contracts, launches, events. But more than that, Vittorio respects Cesare’s instincts, and Cesare values Vittorio’s logic. They talk about art as legacy, not just survival. There’s a calm maturity to their friendship — built on nights spent arguing over market disruption and hip-hop lyrics. In another life, they’d be co-founders of an empire. Maybe they still will be.

Edoardo (Hyunjin) — it was a panel on fashion x entrepreneurship. Edoardo showed up in all-black avant-garde tailoring, unbothered and magnetic. Cesare was half-bored, arms crossed in the back — until Edoardo spoke up about aesthetics as resistance. Cesare turned. They locked eyes across the room like something ancient had just clicked. Later, Cesare said: “Nice boots.” Edoardo replied: “Yours could use polish.” It was the beginning of everything. Respect. Mirror. Fire. Where Federico is softness, Edoardo is sharpness — cut from a different cloth, but just as essential. He challenges Cesare in ways others are too afraid to. They push each other. Cesare calls Edoardo “Art Boy” with mockery, but secretly listens when he talks about theory. Edoardo sees Cesare’s chaos and doesn’t try to fix it — he frames it. Cesare, in turn, trusts him to turn vision into something real. Their bond is rare: it’s elegant, volatile, and real.

Leonardo (Lee Know) — They met in Milan through a mutual friend who instinctively knew they were two pieces of a larger puzzle. Their first meeting happened over coffee in Navigli, meant to be a quick conversation about a potential dance event. Leonardo was looking for someone who could help manage the logistics — budgeting, venues, partnerships — and the friend who introduced them said Cesare was “one of the few who actually gets both money and art.” Cesare wasn’t easily impressed, but there was something magnetic about Leonardo. Their bond is built on mutual respect — but also on balance. Where Cesare offers stability and foresight, Leonardo brings fire and spontaneity. They became sounding boards for each other’s dreams, and over time, their partnership blurred the line between work and friendship. Now, Leonardo is one of the few people who can call Cesare at 2 a.m. with a half-formed idea, and instead of brushing it off, Cesare will sit up, rub his eyes, and say, “Dimmi.” (“Tell me.”)

Riccardo (Bangchan) — They met at an underground music showcase in Milan. Riccardo had just moved for university and was networking at a local music collective where Cesare occasionally freestyled or worked beats with people from the hip-hop circuit. Riccardo clocked Cesare immediately — the brooding guy in the corner with headphones on, nodding to beats but not speaking. Riccardo approached him, asked what he thought of the mix. Cesare just looked up and said: “Troppo pulito. Manca il sudore.” (“Too clean. Needs sweat.”). It was the start of a creative rivalry, then an intense friendship. Like yin and yang. Riccardo’s warmth balances Cesare’s sharp edge. They often argue about rhythm, politics, authenticity — but there’s profound respect under it. Riccardo’s one of the few people Cesare trusts with his lyrics. Their arguments are explosive, but their loyalty is unshakable. Riccardo knows when to challenge Cesare — and when to just sit beside him in silence.

Giulio (Jisung) — Cesare met Giulio at a university party he wasn’t even invited to. He was dragged there by Patrizia. Giulio was drunk and ranting in a corner about Dante being overrated and Pavese being depressed but brilliant. Cesare listened, then casually quoted Pasolini to shut him up. Giulio, wide-eyed, asked, “Wait, you read?” — and Cesare just smirked. Endless banter. Street vs Academia. Giulio calls Cesare “l’intellettuale di strada” (the street intellectual). Cesare calls him “Professò”. They disagree on everything, especially books — but deep down, they’re on the same side. Giulio is one of the few who sees how intelligent Cesare actually is — and Cesare quietly protects Giulio when his soft heart gets too exposed.

Valerio (Jeongin) — they met through Riccardo. Valerio was helping set up a live gig for the student music society. Cesare saw him messing with wires under a stage, cursing in Venetian dialect, and said: “Sei sicuro di saper fare ‘sta roba o devo chiamare l’elettricista?” Valerio flipped him off. Respect was earned quickly. Like a younger brother Cesare didn’t want but now fiercely protects. Cesare sees himself in Valerio — the impulsiveness, the quiet need to be taken seriously, the rage bottled up under charm. He’s tough on him, always — but in moments where Valerio spirals, Cesare is there. No speeches, no drama. Just presence. He never says it, but he’d throw punches for him in a heartbeat.

Neighborhoods

Naples — Quartieri Spagnoli (Spanish Quarters), cesare’s home — narrow alleys, echoing footsteps, neon lights flickering on graffiti-covered walls, and the ever-present smell of fried street food mixed with sea salt and diesel fumes. It’s a place alive with stories, danger, and resilience.

Porta Venezia, Milan — known for its diversity, artistic flair, and progressive atmosphere. Located near the city center, Porta Venezia is a melting pot of cultures and styles, blending Milan’s historical elegance with a modern, cosmopolitan vibe. The area is famous for its Art Nouveau architecture, stylish cafes, and vibrant nightlife. He share the flat with Federico.

Favorite Italian artists

Marracash — his raw, introspective rap resonates with Cesare’s inner struggles and street wisdom. Fave track, “Crudelia (i nervi)” -> this one hurts. It’s about emotional abuse, pride, vulnerability — Cesare has never been able to listen to it without feeling like it’s written at him. Marracash is the one rapper he sees as a true poet. “Hai dato un volto all’inferno.” Yeah.

Caparezza — a unique, original and multifaceted artist, a musician among the pioneers of Italian rap, Caparezza has always stood out on the music scene for his profound literary skills, making puns his signature style, combining satire and social criticism. Fave track, “Avrai ragione tu (ritratto)” -> It hits like a journal entry Cesare never wrote. The contradictions, the self-doubt masked in rage, the feeling of being out of place in a world that wants you simplified. Caparezza’s chaos matches Cesare’s mind — layered, fast, brutally clever.

Fabri Fibra — as a rapper who often confronts harsh realities and social critique in Italy, Fabri Fibra matches Cesare’s desire for raw, honest expression. His flow and attitude inspire Cesare’s own lyricism. Fave track, “Idee stupide” -> he blasts this when he needs to punch a wall or drown out the noise. Cesare doesn’t always agree with Fibra, but he admires the rawness, the shamelessness. The song is a scream with a beat. Sometimes that’s all you need.

Pino Daniele — though primarily a musician, Daniele’s Neapolitan soul and blues-infused melodies deeply connect with Cesare’s roots. Fave track, “Quanno Chiove” -> because the city sleeps and Cesare is alone with a cigarette, this is what plays. He grew up with it. It smells like his mother’s kitchen. Pino is the soul of Naples, and Cesare’s heart still beats in dialect.

Franco126 – roman songwriter. One hundred and twenty-six like the steps of the Viale Glorioso staircase in Trastevere. His rap writing crosses over into songwriting with a lucid ability to focus on reality and emotions. The vaguely retro style is matched by a rough and truthful timbre, a perfect bitter-sweet contrast capable of enveloping the heart. Fave track, “Blue Jeans” (feat. Calcutta) -> for the quiet nights, the wrong memories, the ghosts of people he left behind. This one? This one stings beautifully.

Favorite Italian dishes

Pizza Margherita: the quintessential Neapolitan pride, simple but perfect.

Spaghetti alle Vongole (Clam Spaghetti): fresh, salty, and evocative of the sea — a reminder of Naples’ coastal heartbeat.

Frittura di Paranza: mixed fried seafood, eaten street-side with friends after late-night outings.

Sfogliatella: sweet, flaky pastry for rare treats, often shared during family breakfasts.

Favorite movies

Scarface (1983) by Brian De Palma — the immigrant’s dream turned nightmare. He watches this with critical admiration, aware of how toxic that path is

Her (2013) by Spike Jonze — loneliness in a hyper-connected world. He’s fascinated by the emotional intelligence, the color palette, the sadness that lingers quietly

Dogman (2018) — quiet man pushed too far. A disturbing, but oddly heartbreaking film for Cesare. He gets the slow erosion of decency under pressure

Pane e Tulipani (2000) by Silvio Soldini — a woman rediscovers herself. Cesare found this on a late-night re-run. He was surprised how much he liked it — the quiet poetry of second chances.

Favorite writers

Cesare’s favorite writers share common threads: they’re either brutally honest about the darker sides of society or imaginative dreamers who transform harsh realities into art.

Eduardo De Filippo — “Napoli Milionaria!”, this play captures the heart of Naples during the difficult post-war years—poverty, survival, and moral ambiguity. Eduardo’s sharp humor and biting social commentary mirror Cesare’s own mix of toughness and wit. De Filippo is playwright and actor from Naples, his works portray Neapolitan life with humor and tragedy

Chuck Palahniuk — “Choke”, The dark satire and complex, flawed characters in Choke appeal to Cesare’s cynicism and sense of humor. Its exploration of addiction, identity crises, and survival in a world that feels both absurd and hostile mirrors his own inner battles. The way Palahniuk explores the darker sides of human nature, alienation, and underground culture fits Cesare’s own experience with conflict and societal expectations.

Victor Hugo — “The Hunchback of Notre-Dame” (Notre-Dame de Paris), the tragic story of Quasimodo and Esmeralda, outcasts fighting against fate and society’s cruelty, strikes a chord with Cesare. It mirrors his feelings of being judged by appearance and origin but holding a fierce, often hidden, humanity. Despite his grand, classical style, Hugo’s themes of justice, social inequality, and redemption inspire Cesare on a more aspirational level.

Roberto Saviano — “Gomorra”, Saviano’s exposé of the Camorra is more than journalism to Cesare—it’s a mirror reflecting the dangers and contradictions of his neighborhood. The raw, unfiltered portrayal of organized crime, corruption, and the suffocating grip of power fuels Cesare’s determination to stay on his own path and avoid being swallowed by the same forces.

Favorite seaside spots

Marechiaro — a small, picturesque fishing village just outside Naples, it’s a place of calm and tradition. Cesare finds peace there, a break from the chaos of his neighborhood

Posillipo Hills — overlooking the sea, a place for reflection and fleeting dreams of freedom

Spiaggia di Marina di Camerota (Cilento Coast) — less touristy, more authentic, this spot aligns with Cesare’s appreciation for places off the beaten path, where nature’s rawness mirrors his own grit.

Most used slang words

Guagliò (pronounced gwah-LYOH) — means “boy,” “dude,” or “mate.”Commonly used among friends in Naples, it reflects Cesare’s casual, streetwise way of addressing peers

Sta’ ‘nguaiato”— means “He’s in trouble” or “stuck in a mess.” Used to describe someone caught in a bad situation, common in street talk

Jammo — means “Let’s go!” or “Come on!”, a quick, energetic call to action, often heard on the streets or among friends when it’s time to move or do something

Vati corca (pronounced roughly “VAH-tee KOR-kah”) — means “Go lie down” or “Go to bed”, a dismissive way to tell someone to shut up, stop talking nonsense, or just get lost. Like saying “Go take a nap” but with a strong undertone of irritation or dismissal

Most used slurs

Sfaccimma (pronounced roughly “sfa-CHIM-ma”) — derives from the Italian “faccia” (face) combined with the vulgar suffix and meaning related to excrement, so it roughly translates as “piece of shit” or “scumbag.” Can be playful among close friends (with a sarcastic or teasing tone), but usually harsh and meant to sting if used seriously

Vafammò — short for “Vaffanculo,” meaning go fuck yourself

Omm’ e merd’ — one of the most classic Neapolitan slurs. It literally means “man of shit” or “shitty man.” harsh and direct, it hits on both personal character and masculinity, used mostly among men in informal, often hostile contexts

Representatives phrases

A chi t’ ’o ddice, a chi t’ ’o ddice! [Who’s telling you?] — reason: used when denying or feigning ignorance, cause he despises those kind of things

Ammò, staje senza pensier’ [Come on, don’t worry] — used to reassure a friend or himself, shows his protective and grounded nature

Chi ha paura muore ogni giorno, chi non ha paura muore una volta sola [He who is afraid dies every day, he who is not afraid dies only once] — a tough, stoic motto reflecting Cesare’s approach to life and danger

Favorite idioms

Non è bello ciò che è bello, ma è bello ciò che piace [What is beautiful is not what’s beautiful, but what pleases.] meaning: beauty is subjective, reflects Cesare’s nuanced understanding of appearances versus reality — especially in his judgment of people

Chi la dura la vince [Who perseveres, wins] meaning: perseverance pays off — core to his boxing mentality and life philosophy

Meglio un uovo oggi che una gallina domani [Better an egg today than a hen tomorrow] meaning: sometimes you have to settle for what’s real now instead of chasing uncertain dreams — reflects the practical side of Cesare

[vmygdvlv]

Fault lines !

Genre: hurt/comfort. one-shot

Pairing: vittorio x leonardo. italian boys!au

Summary: vittorio, arriving late and injured at Leonardo's door, finds solace in an unexpected moment of care, revealing deeper themes of vulnerability and redemption after the unfortunate altercation

Warnings: moral dilemmas, subtle harassment, emotional distress, minor injuries

Vittorio did not know why he had felt the compulsion to step into this bar tonight. He had meant to be elsewhere — with Leonardo, at his apartment — but the streets of the city had seemed strange and distant, filled with an alien quality that pressed in on him from all sides. The shadows stretched long and uneasy, and the lights from the windows above seemed like the eyes of many indifferent witnesses.

The bar itself was dim and cramped, a place that seemed to shrink and distort under the weight of its patrons’ voices. At the counter, a young barista moved with a practiced efficiency, her hands quick and deft as she served drinks to the men leaning heavily against the counter. Vittorio could hear their laughter, low and jagged, like the scraping of glass on stone.

One of them, a man in his twenties with an angular face and a smile that did not reach his eyes, leaned forward. “Bella, you look tired tonight,” he remarked, his tone almost gentle, but there was something beneath it, something that unsettled Vittorio in a way he could not quite explain. “Maybe you need someone to cheer you up, eh?”

The barista’s smile was thin and practiced. She replied in a tone as smooth as the surface of still water, “I’m fine, thanks. What can I get you?”

The man did not seem to hear her. “Maybe you’d look happier if you smiled a bit more, no?” he continued, his words hanging in the air like a bad odor, and his friends chuckled in low, knowing murmurs.

Another leaned in, his voice slick with false concern. “Yeah, a smile would do wonders. Come on, just for us?”

The barista’s smile tightened, her eyes briefly darting to the side, as if looking for a way out of a room with no exits. “I’m fine, really,” she said, her voice still calm but her fingers gripping the edge of the counter just a bit harder than before.

Vittorio, standing off to the side, felt a discomfort building in his chest — a kind of pressure that started in his lungs and spread, like an invisible hand pushing down on him. These remarks were nothing, just little comments, words tossed out casually, but they felt like barbs. He could see the flicker of frustration in the barista’s eyes, the way she forced her smile to stay in place, and it gnawed at him.

He stepped forward without quite knowing why. “You should stop,” he said, his voice sharper than he intended. The men turned to look at him, and for a moment, the bar seemed to hold its breath. “She doesn’t need to hear that.”

The leader of the group — the one with the angular face and the hollow smile — raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Who are you, her protector?” he asked, his tone a mix of mockery and incredulity.

Vittorio felt his cheeks flush, but he did not move. “No,” he replied, his voice steady. “But you shouldn’t speak to her like that. It’s not right.”

The leader laughed, a sound like dry leaves crunching underfoot. “Not right? We’re just having a bit of fun. Why don’t you mind your own business?”

Vittorio felt a strange heat rising in him, a mixture of anger and something else — something he could not name, but which had been simmering just below the surface for too long. “Because—,” he said, and then found he had no more words, only that heat, only that pressure, building and building.

The leader’s smile faded, replaced by a look of cold irritation. “You think you’re some kind of hero?” he asked, and before Vittorio could answer, he felt a sharp pain explode in his cheek, a bright flash of white behind his eyes. The man’s fist had connected with his face, and for a moment, the world tilted sideways.

He stumbled back, his vision swimming, and the laughter around him grew louder, more pointed. “See?” the leader sneered. “That’s what happens when you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

Vittorio touched his cheek, feeling the heat of the bruise spreading under his skin, the dull throb of pain radiating outward. He blinked, trying to steady himself, to make sense of the room that now seemed to spin and twist around him like some grotesque carnival ride.

The barista, her smile faltering now, came over quickly, a look of concern in her eyes. “You didn’t have to do that,” she whispered, her voice a mix of gratitude and exasperation. “I’m used to it. It happens all the time.”

Vittorio looked at her, his vision still blurred, the room around him still swaying. “That’s—that’s the problem,” he muttered, but his voice sounded strange in his own ears, distant and hollow.

She shrugged, a resigned, almost tired gesture. “It’s just words. I’ve heard worse,” she replied, her voice calm, but there was a faint tremor there, a hint of something brittle and fragile. “But thanks, anyway.”

He nodded, unable to find more words, feeling a sense of futility settling over him like a thick fog. He turned and began to walk away, out into the cold air of the street. The laughter from the bar still echoed in his ears, like a sound trapped in his head. Stepping outside, Vittorio’s mind was a turbulent mix of regret and frustration. He navigated the narrow streets, the evening air a sharp contrast to the stifling heat of the bar. His face throbbed with a growing discomfort, a consequence of the encounter that had left him shaken.

Arriving at Leonardo’s apartment building, Vittorio’s steps were uneven, his thoughts a fragmented swirl of anger and dismay. He pressed the intercom button, the chime echoing in the stark hallway. He waited, the hum of the intercom a jarring reminder of his current state. The delay in Leonardo’s arrival at the door seemed interminable, each second stretching into an eternity.

Leonardo’s apartment in Milan was an oasis of tranquility in the heart of the bustling city. The minimalist décor and soft lighting created an atmosphere of calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had been brewing just hours before. As evening draped itself over the city, the calm of Leonardo’s home was a fragile veneer, masking the storm of emotions within him. The pallid light of sunset began to seep through the slits of the window blinds, casting long, angular shadows across Leonardo’s small, sparsely decorated apartment. The quiet was broken only by the rhythmic ticking of a clock, each second a reminder of the waiting, the anticipation that gnawed at the edges of Leonardo’s patience.

He had been pacing restlessly, the anxiety of the past hours manifesting itself in his agitated steps. His thoughts were a jumbled mess, a chaotic reflection of his concern for Vittorio and the strange sense of foreboding that had settled in his gut. When the doorbell rang, it felt like a sudden, sharp break from the monotonous tension that had built up within him. When Leonardo finally opened the door, his expression shifted from surprise to immediate concern as he took in Vittorio’s disheveled appearance. His face a canvas of bruises and cuts that spoke volumes of an encounter far more brutal than Leonardo had anticipated. Vittorio entered the apartment with a stiffness that betrayed the extent of his injuries, his face marked by a dark bruise that seemed to absorb the light around it. His entrance was not marked by fanfare or dramatic flair; rather, it was a subdued acknowledgment of his own suffering, an acknowledgment that seemed almost foreign in the context of Leonardo’s sterile living space.

“Vitto,” Leonardo said, his voice betraying a mixture of relief and worry. “You’re late. I was beginning to think—”

“I got held up,” he interrupted, his tone carrying an air of casual detachment that was at odds with his condition. He stepped inside, his movements deliberate but marked by an underlying weariness. “Sorry for being late.”

Leonardo’s gaze lingered on the black eye and the swelling that had begun to discolor Vittorio’s face. Everything was unsettling, a stark contrast to the composed demeanor Vittorio usually maintained. The sight of his friend, bearing the physical evidence of a recent and violent conflict, struck him with a force that left him momentarily paralyzed. The contrast between the serene interior of the apartment and the raw reality of Vittorio’s condition was almost surreal

“What happened?” Leonardo asked as he guided Vittorio towards the couch. His voice was flat, almost detached, as if he were struggling to reconcile the scene before him with the ordinary reality of their lives

Vittorio’s eyes, shadowed by the bruise and the weight of the encounter, met Leonardo’s with a resigned gaze. “It’s nothing, really,” he said, though his tone was hollow, devoid of the conviction that would normally accompany such a statement. “Just a bit of trouble at the café.”

Leonardo’s eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Trouble? At the bar? Vittò, you look—”

Vittorio sank into the couch with a weary sigh. His body seemed to sag under the weight of an invisible burden, as if the violence he had endured had seeped into his very bones. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice a monotonous recounting of events, “Really. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Leonardo fetched the first aid kit with an urgency that belied his otherwise calm demeanor. His hands moved with practiced efficiency, but there was an edge of frustration in his movements, a sharp contrast to his usual precision. As he began to clean Vittorio’s wounds, his words came out in a frustrated rush. His face twisted with a mixture of anger and confusion. The sterile comfort of his apartment seemed to warp around him, as if he were caught in the grip of some nightmare where the boundary between personal safety and societal cruelty had become imperceptibly thin.

“What were you thinking?” Leonardo demanded, applying antiseptic with a force that bordered on the aggressive. “Why did you get involved? You know how things can escalate. Why did you—”

“I couldn’t just stand by,” Vittorio interjected, his voice tinged with a weariness that spoke to more than just physical fatigue. “I saw the way they were treating her. It wasn’t right.”

“And you thought you could handle this alone?” Leonardo’s voice cracked with frustration. “You can’t just—you can’t just walk into a situation like that and expect it to resolve itself neatly. And I hate to say this, but those kind of interactions will always unfold, you can’t—“

“I didn’t think,” Vittorio interrupted, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. “When you see someone being mistreated, there’s an instinct to act. I thought I could handle it.” Leonardo’s frustration grew, a relentless tide that seemed to sweep away any semblance of rational thought. His jaw tightened as he worked. “But you’re not a fighter. You know that. You should have called for help, or at least—”

“And let them continue?” Vittorio’s voice took on a sharp edge. “I couldn’t just let it go. I’m not built to watch passively.”

Leonardo’s eyes were fixed on Vittorio’s face as he applied a bandage with a more controlled touch. “You’re built to act,” he said, his tone softer now. “But not to be a martyr. You have to consider the consequences of your actions. You never know how people could react.”

The conversation fell into an uncomfortable silence as Leonardo finished tending to Vittorio’s wounds, marked by the oppressive weight of unspoken thoughts and unacknowledged fears. Leonardo’s mind raced, grappling with the paradoxes of Vittorio’s actions. The violence that had occurred was not just physical but seemed to infiltrate the very essence of their being, challenging the foundations of their understanding of justice and morality.

Leonardo’s eyes fell on Vittorio’s injured face, the bruise a stark and jarring reminder of the brutality that lay hidden beneath the veneer of civilized society. The early evening light cast a faint, almost surreal glow over the scene, amplifying the stark contrast between the tranquility of the apartment and the chaos that had preceded it. Vittorio’s gaze remained fixed on a point in the distance, his expression a mix of introspection and resignation. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said quietly. “I thought I could make a difference.”

Leonardo sat down beside him, his own frustration ebbing away to reveal a more nuanced understanding. “You did act with good intentions,” Leonardo said, his voice gentle. “But sometimes, even the best intentions can lead to unforeseen consequences.”

Leonardo’s heart ached with a complex amalgam of emotions. The sight of his friend, caught in the grip of a Kafkaesque nightmare of his own making, was both profoundly disconcerting and deeply moving. The stark reality of Vittorio’s injuries seemed to undermine any attempt at understanding or solace. It was as if the very fabric of their existence had been frayed, leaving them to grapple with the raw and unsettling truths that lay beneath the surface of their lives. The time stretched on, marked by a slow and painful acknowledgment of the night’s events. Leonardo attended to Vittorio’s injuries with a careful, almost mechanical detachment, the act of tending to wounds a mere formality in the face of the deeper wounds that remained unspoken.

Vittorio’s eyes met Leonardo’s, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. “I suppose,” Vittorio said, his tone reflective. “But it’s hard to reconcile the gap between what we hope to achieve and what actually happens.” Leonardo sighed, his own thoughts mirroring the complexity of the situation. “It’s easy to feel that way,” he said. “Especially when the outcome is so far from what we envisioned. But that doesn’t mean your actions were in vain. They were born out of a sense of justice.”

Vittorio’s shoulders relaxed slightly as he absorbed Leonardo’s words. “I just wish it didn’t have to come at such a cost,” he said softly. “I wish I could have found a different way.”

Leonardo’s hand rested gently on Vittorio’s shoulder, a gesture of solidarity and understanding. “Sometimes, the cost is what makes us reconsider our choices,” Leonardo said. “But it’s also what makes us grow.”

As the evening light grew darker, the room seemed to take on a new perspective. The earlier tension began to dissolve, replaced by a tentative calm that allowed for reflection and understanding. Leonardo and Vittorio sat together in this fragile moment of clarity, their shared experience a testament to the complex interplay of action, consequence, and the search for meaning in a world that often defied easy answers. In the quiet aftermath of their conversation, the echoes of the night’s conflict lingered, a reminder of the delicate balance between intention and outcome. The apartment, once a stage for their emotional confrontation, now held the promise of a renewed understanding, a fragile peace that offered a glimmer of hope amid the chaos of their inner lives.

The evening light filtering through the blinds, casting pale lines across the room. The stillness felt fragile, as if one wrong move could shatter the delicate truce that had settled in the air. Leonardo leaned back against the couch, his fingers tapping absently against the fabric, still processing the conversation, the tension in Vittorio’s words, the conflict he saw in his friend’s eyes.

It was unlike Vittorio to be so reckless, to step into the fray like that. Usually, he was the one pulling others back from the brink, his calm demeanor a counterweight to the chaos that often surrounded them. But now, it seemed something deeper had driven him, something that had unsettled the very foundation of who he was. He looked over at Vittorio, who sat quietly, his gaze distant, unfocused, as if caught somewhere between the memory of what had happened and the reality of the room they were in. The bruises on his face had started to darken, purple and blue blooming beneath the skin, a stark reminder of the violence he had encountered.

“What are you thinking?” Leonardo finally asked, his voice softer now, the earlier frustration replaced by a genuine concern. Vittorio’s eyes flickered, as if coming back from somewhere far away. He took a slow breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the effort. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “I’m trying to make sense of it, I guess. Trying to understand why I felt so compelled to step in.”

Leonardo nodded, sensing the turmoil beneath Vittorio’s calm facade. “It’s not like you to get involved like that,” he said carefully. “I know you want to help, to make things right, but—it’s like something snapped in you tonight.”

Vittorio sighed, running a hand through his hair, wincing slightly at the pain in his side. “Maybe it did,” he murmured. “I just—I saw the way those men were treating her, the way they looked at her like she was nothing, and I couldn’t stand it. I thought if I just—did something, it would make a difference. But now I’m not sure if I did the right thing at all.”

Leonardo’s brow furrowed, trying to find the right words. “You did what you thought was right,” he said finally. “You acted on your principles, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But sometimes—most times, the world doesn’t respond the way we want it to. Sometimes it pushes back.”

Vittorio looked down, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. “I thought I could handle it,” he whispered. “I thought I could just say something, make them stop. But they didn’t care. They just—they laughed. And then it got worse. I felt so powerless, so angry—and I didn’t know what to do with that anger. As you said I’m not a fighter, far from it actually, but I just wanted to be upfront for once.”

Leonardo felt a pang of empathy, recognizing the struggle in Vittorio’s voice. “It’s okay to be angry,” he said gently. “It’s okay to feel powerless. Especially when it comes to these kinds of issues, being powerless is the main sentiment you’ll get to feel. It’s unfair, but you’re not alone in this okay? ”

Vittorio glanced up, meeting Leonardo’s eyes, and for a moment, something like relief crossed his face. “I just don’t want to feel like this,” he confessed. “I don’t want to feel like I failed.”

Leonardo reached out, placing a hand on Vittorio’s arm, a small gesture of reassurance. “Oi, you didn’t fail,” he said firmly. “You stood up for what you believed in. You tried to make a difference. That’s not failure, that’s courage.”

Vittorio’s expression softened, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I needed to hear that.”

Leonardo nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. “Anytime,” he replied. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up a bit more. You look like you’ve been through a war.”

A faint chuckle escaped Vittorio, and for the first time since he arrived, his tense shoulders seemed to relax, if only a little. “It feels like I have,” he admitted.

Leonardo stood, heading to the kitchen to fetch a damp cloth and a fresh ice pack. He returned, carefully dabbing at the dried blood on Vittorio’s face, his touch gentle, almost reverent. “You’re tougher than you look, you know,” he said with a smirk.

Vittorio winced but smiled back, a tired but genuine expression. “Guess I had to prove it somehow.”

Leonardo paused, his hand still for a moment. “Just—please, don’t make a habit of it, alright?” he said, his voice more serious now. “We need you in one piece.”

Vittorio nodded slowly. “I won’t,” he promised. “I don’t think I have the stomach for it, anyway. I’ll leave it to you or Cesare, it suit you guys the most.”

They sat in silence for a while longer, the quiet punctuated only by the occasional drip of water from the cloth and the distant sounds of the city waking up outside. There was a sense of calm between them now, a shared understanding that didn’t need words.

Finally, Leonardo spoke, his tone lighter. “Next time, maybe just call me before you decide to take on a bunch of assholes, yeah?”

Vittorio laughed softly, a sound that felt like a balm to the tension that had filled the room earlier. “Deal,” he said. “But you’d better be quick to answer.”

Leonardo grinned. “I’ll make sure of it.”

The light grew stronger, flooding the room with a soft, golden hue, and for a moment, the bruises and cuts seemed less severe, the weight of the night a little lighter. And in that fleeting moment, there was a sense that, somehow, they would find a way to move forward, together.

[vmygdvlv]

After hours: echoes of a night !

Genre: angst. series / part.ii

Pairing: valerio x riccardo + (some edoardo & cesare in the mix) italian boys!au

Summary: valerio finds himself drawn into the world of his older university peers, eager to fit in and prove himself. When they invite him out for a night of drinking and revelry, Valerio is excited but anxious, knowing that the crowd he’s with is more experienced and reckless.

Warnings: emotional distress, substance abuse, peer pressure, aggressive behavior

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, harsh and unforgiving, as Valerio groaned and rolled over in bed. His head pounded, each throb a painful reminder of the night before. He rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the fog that clung to his mind. Every part of him felt heavy, weighed down by a mix of regret and the lingering effects of too much alcohol. But it wasn’t just the hangover that made him feel sick; it was the memory of Riccardo’s furious expression, the disappointment in his voice. Valerio couldn’t forget it, no matter how hard he tried. As he lay there, trying to piece together the events of the night, his phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, squinting at the screen. Some friends’s unread messages from the night before.

Cez : Ricky called me after he found you. Are you okay?

Edo: You good Val?? Rick said you were pretty out of it, man.

Valerio stared at the messages, his stomach churning. The last thing he wanted was to face everyone after how things had gone down. But there was no avoiding it. He knew they’d all be coming over soon—probably to hash out what happened, probably to lay into him, just like Riccardo had. He sighed, dragging himself out of bed. Riccardo, who had spent the night in the spare room, emerged into the living room, his expression tight with lingering frustration. By the time Valerio made it to the kitchen, Riccardo was already there, leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. His face was hard, but there was a trace of concern in his eyes. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension. Valerio hesitated in the doorway, unsure of what to say.

“Morning,” Riccardo finally said, his voice flat.

“Morning,” Valerio replied, avoiding his gaze.

He could feel Riccardo’s disapproval radiating from across the room, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it. Not yet. Before they could say anything more, the bell’s ring broke the silence. Valerio reluctantly got up to answer, revealing Edoardo and Cesare on the other side. Both greeted him with casual smiles, but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air, the aftermath of the previous night still hanging over them.

“Can we come in?” Cesare asked, his tone clipped. Valerio nodded, stepping aside to let them in. They filed into the living room, each of them casting glances at Riccardo, who still hadn’t moved from his spot in the kitchen. The atmosphere was tense, like a storm cloud ready to burst.

“Hey, man,” Edoardo said, moving closer. “How are you feeling?”

Valerio shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Cesare followed, his gaze flicking between Valerio and Riccardo, sensing the strained atmosphere. “We figured we’d check in on you, see how you’re doing after… everything.”

Valerio’s jaw tightened, irritation flaring up. “I’m fine, Cez. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Edoardo, sensing the tension, chimed in with a light-hearted tone. “Hey, we’re just here to hang out, no lectures. We all have our nights, right?”

Riccardo, who had been silent up until now, crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, his expression hardening. “Some of us know when to stop before things get out of hand.” The comment hung in the air, sharp and accusatory.

Valerio’s eyes narrowed, a defensive edge creeping into his voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Riccardo began, his voice low and controlled, “that last night was a disaster, Vale. You were reckless, and your so-called friends took advantage of that. You don’t see it, but you were this close to being in serious trouble.”

Edoardo stepped in, his tone calm but firm. “Ricky, come on, it wasn’t that bad. Vale was just blowing off some steam with his friends. We’ve all been there.” His voice was calm, almost too calm, as if he was trying to smooth things over before they escalated. “I’m not saying it was smart, but he’s not the only one to blame.”

Riccardo’s eyes narrowed as he turned to face Edoardo. “You’re defending him?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. “You think what happened last night is just blowing off some steam? I don’t call that normal.”

Edoardo bristled, his own frustrations bubbling to the surface. “You’re overreacting. He didn’t need you to swoop in and save him. He’s not a kid, and he doesn’t need you controlling every aspect of his life.”

The words hit him hard, but his expression remained stoic. “I’m not trying to control him. I’m trying to keep him from making mistakes that he’ll regret later. But you wouldn’t understand that, would you?”

Before Valerio could respond, Edoardo’s voice cut through, low and heated. “And who keeps you in check, Ricky? You’re so busy trying to control everything that you’re pushing everyone away. Vale isn’t a project for you to manage.”

Riccardo’s temper snapped. “You think I’m trying to control him? I’m trying to protect him from ending up like you—drowning in mistakes you can’t take back.”

The words hung in the air like a slap. Edoardo’s eyes darkened, his expression a mix of hurt and fury. Edoardo’s face darkened, a hint of guilt flickering in his eyes as Riccardo’s words struck a nerve. “And now, what’s that supposed to mean uhm?”

Riccardo’s voice was cold, calculated. “It means I’ve seen how you acted on your nights out. You’re defending him because you see a bit of yourself in him. But this isn’t about you, and it’s not about being right. It’s about keeping him safe.”

Edoardo didn’t back down, his expression hardening. “And what’s your plan? To scare him into submission? You can’t control everything he does. None of us can—to be honest, you need to stop to control everything we do.”

Riccardo’s jaw clenched, the accusation striking a nerve. “You’re one to talk about control. You’ve got your own issues, Edo. Or have you forgotten all those nights where you didn’t know when to stop?” The room went still, the air thick with the weight of Riccardo’s words.

Edoardo’s thoughts had drifted elsewhere—back to his own battles with alcohol, to nights he wished he could forget. He knew what it was like to lose control, to let the bottle dictate your actions. And seeing Valerio now, caught in the same destructive cycle, brought an uncomfortable realization crashing down on him. It wasn’t that long ago when Edoardo himself had stumbled home after one too many drinks, his vision blurred, his mind clouded with poor decisions. There were moments—flashes—where he remembered Riccardo’s concerned gaze, the unspoken judgment, and the subtle way he’d try to steer him away from another drink. He had brushed it off back then, laughed it away with the same bravado Valerio had shown last night. But deep down, he knew Riccardo saw right through him, just as he was now seeing through the youngest boy.

Edoardo leaned forward, breaking the silence. “Look,” he started, his voice calm but edged with a quiet plea, “He made a mistake, sure. But we’ve all been there, right? We’ve all had those nights where things got out of hand. What matters is that he’s here now, that he’s okay.”

Riccardo’s eyes flicked over to him, a shadow of something unspoken passing between them. He knew exactly what his friend was trying to do, and the subtle tremor in Edoardo’s voice didn’t go unnoticed. Riccardo’s jaw tightened slightly as he replied, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not just about one night. It’s about the pattern, the choices. You can’t keep pretending it’s all just harmless fun when it’s starting to spiral.”

Cesare, who had been watching the argument unfold, finally stepped in, his voice steady and calm. “Guys come on, this isn’t the solution. We’re supposed to be here for helping, not fighting with each other.”

Valerio, who had been silent throughout the exchange, suddenly snapped. “You’re all talking like I’m not even here! I don’t need you fighting my battles for me, and I don’t need you treating me like I’m some kind of problem that needs fixing.”

Riccardo turned to him, his voice softer but still firm. “We’re just worried about you. Last night was out of control, and I don’t want to see you go down a path you can’t come back from.”

Valerio scoffed, his irritation boiling over. “You’re always worried. Always hovering, always trying to fix things. Maybe I just want to live my life without you breathing down my neck.”

Edoardo, sensing an opening, nodded in agreement. “He’s right. He’s old enough to make his own decisions. We all make mistakes, but he should be able to learn from them without you constantly watching over him.”

Riccardo’s jaw clenched, the frustration evident in his eyes. “I’m not trying to suffocate him, but someone has to look out for him. You weren’t there last night. You didn’t see how bad it was.”

Cesare, seeing the argument spiraling out of control, stepped forward, raising his hands in a calming gesture. “Enough. This isn’t getting us anywhere. We’re all friends here. Let’s just take a step back and talk this through.”

But Valerio, still simmering with anger, wasn’t ready to let it go. “You all think you know what’s best for me, but you don’t. I’m not some kid who needs rescuing every time things get a little rough.”

The room fell into a tense silence, the weight of Valerio’s words hanging in the air. Riccardo, feeling the sting of Valerio’s rejection, looked at him with a mix of hurt and frustration. “Vale, I just want what’s best for you. But if you can’t see that, then maybe I’m wasting my time.”

The words were harsh, cutting deeper than Riccardo intended, but the frustration of the last few days had taken its toll. Valerio’s eyes hardened, his expression unreadable. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, his phone buzzed on the table. Valerio glanced at the screen, and his face darkened as he read the name. It was one of the older peers from the night before, a reminder of the chaos that had started all this. Ignoring the tension in the room, he took the phone.

Andrea

Hey man, u good?? You kinda took off last night (11.04am)

Let me know when you’re free (11.07am)

Valerio’s grip on the phone tightened, his eyes flicking to Riccardo, who stood silently, his expression unreadable. The room felt charged, as if it was on the brink of another explosion. But this time, Riccardo took a deep breath, calming himself. “We seriously need to talk about this. But not like this. Let’s take a step back, cool down, and figure this out together.”

The words were reasonable, measured, but Valerio wasn’t ready to listen. The anger, the embarrassment, and the pressure all coalesced into a wall he wasn’t ready to break down. “Well, seriously, I don’t need your help. I can handle this myself,” his voice tinged with defiance. The argument wasn’t over—far from it—but for now, it simmered just below the surface, waiting for the next spark to reignite it. Valerio’s abrupt tone echoed in the room, hanging heavy in the tense silence that followed. He put his phone down with a finality that made it clear the conversation was over—for now.

Riccardo’s eyes narrowed as he processed Valerio’s words, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He was torn between wanting to shake some sense into Valerio and stepping back to let him make his own mistakes. But the protective instinct within him was too strong to ignore. Before the oldest could respond, Cesare cleared his throat, breaking the thick silence. He had been watching the tension escalate, hoping it would fizzle out, but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen.

“Look,” Cesare began cautiously, his tone diplomatic, “we’re all just trying to help here. Vale, we get that you want to handle things on your own, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to listen to Ricky. He’s only looking out for you.”

Valerio shot him a look, the defiance in his eyes barely masked. “I’m not some project for him to fix. I know you guys think you’re helping, but this isn’t your problem.”

Edoardo, who had been quiet since Riccardo’s subtle dig earlier, felt the need to jump in, his loyalty to Valerio driving him to speak. “He’s right. He doesn’t need you playing the overprotective brother. Maybe if you backed off a little, he wouldn’t feel so cornered.”

Riccardo’s gaze snapped to Edoardo, his temper flaring again. “This isn’t about playing big brother, Edo. Last night was a mess, and it could’ve been worse if I hadn’t stepped in. You didn’t see what I saw—he was out of control, and those older guys were more than happy to push him further.”

Valerio bristled at Riccardo’s words, his temper flaring up once more. “I didn’t ask you to step in! You act like you’re the only one who knows what’s best for me, but you’re not. You’re just—”

“Just what?” He interrupted, his voice rising. “Just trying to keep you from doing something stupid? Just trying to make sure you don’t end up regretting things later? Yeah, Valerio, that’s exactly what I’m doing. Because someone has to!”

He clenched his fists, his voice hardening. “Maybe I don’t want your help! Maybe I just want to figure things out on my own without you breathing down my neck all the time!”

The room fell into a tense silence again, the argument teetering on the edge of something deeper, something that had been building for a while. Riccardo took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger. He could see that Valerio was pushing back harder than ever, but he couldn’t just let this go.

Cesare, sensing that the situation was getting dangerously close to boiling over, tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Look, maybe we’re all just tired and stressed out. We’ve been through a lot these past few days. Let’s not tear each other apart over this.”

But Riccardo wasn’t ready to let it go, not yet. “You’re right, we have been through a lot. But this isn’t something we can just brush off. He’s not seeing the bigger picture here, and if he keeps going down this path, things are going to get worse.”Valerio, feeling cornered and defensive, shot back with an edge in his voice. “The bigger picture? You’re acting like I’m falling apart, but I’m not! I’m handling things the way I need to, and I don’t need you judging me for it.”

Riccardo’s expression darkened, his frustration reaching its peak. “Handling it? You call getting wasted with a bunch of guys who don’t give a damn about you handling it? Come on, you’re smarter than this. You’re better than this.”

Valerio’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice trembling slightly. “Don’t you dare lecture me about being better. You think you know everything, but you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like to feel like you’re constantly under a microscope, like you can’t make a single mistake without everyone jumping down your throat. It’s fucking exhausting!”

Riccardo’s temper flared at that, but before he could respond, Valerio’s phone buzzed again on the table, breaking the tension momentarily. Valerio grabbed it, his expression souring as he read the message. He muttered a curse under his breath, his frustration mounting.

“What now?” Riccardo asked, his tone sharp.

Valerio didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the screen. Then he turned the phone toward Riccardo, showing him the message. It was from one of the older peers, another taunting remark, this time with a link to the video from the night before. The video was even worse than he’d imagined—Valerio, clearly intoxicated, egged on by the older students as they pushed him into doing more shots, the entire scene a blur of loud music, slurred voices, and reckless behavior.

Riccardo’s face went cold as he watched the clip, his anger mixing with a deep sense of concern. “This is what you call handling it?” he asked, his voice low, almost dangerous. “This is what you wanted to do last night?”

Valerio’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “It’s not your business what I do with my friends.”

“Not my business?” Riccardo’s voice rose again. “Valerio, this isn’t just some harmless fun. These guys don’t care about you. They’re just using you for a laugh, and you’re letting them.”

“Enough!” Valerio snapped, his voice cracking with a mixture of anger and something deeper, something vulnerable. “You’re not my dad, you’re not in charge of me. Just—back off!”

Riccardo opened his mouth to retort, but Cesare stepped in, once again, his voice firm. “Alright, stop it. You’re acting immature and this isn’t helping anyone. You need to cool down before you end up saying something you’ll both regret.”

But Riccardo’s gaze remained locked on Valerio, his frustration barely contained. He was about to argue further when he realized the futility of it—Valerio wasn’t going to listen, not now, not while he was this defensive. Taking a deep breath, Riccardo forced himself to step back, his voice strained. “Fine. You want space? You’ve got it. But don’t think this conversation is over.”

Valerio watched as Riccardo turned and left the room, his emotions swirling in a confusing mix of anger, guilt, and exhaustion. As the door closed behind him, Valerio slumped back onto the couch, staring blankly at the video still playing on his phone. The tension in the room was palpable, and for a moment, no one spoke. Finally, Edoardo, who had been watching the entire exchange with a troubled expression, shook his head and muttered, “This is messed up.” Valerio didn’t respond, his thoughts a jumbled mess. He knew, deep down, that Riccardo was right—that he had gotten in over his head. But admitting that, even to himself, felt like a defeat he wasn’t ready to accept.

The tension lingered in the air long after Riccardo left the room, his heavy footsteps echoing down the hallway. Valerio remained slouched on the couch, staring blankly at the phone in his hand. The video had stopped playing, but the scenes replayed in his mind, each frame a reminder of how far things had spiraled out of control. His heart pounded with a confusing mix of anger and shame. Part of him knew Riccardo was right, but admitting that felt like giving up some essential part of himself—his independence, his pride. Edoardo shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing over at Cesare, who was watching Valerio with a careful, measured expression.

Finally, Edoardo broke the silence, his voice softer than before. “You okay, man?” Valerio didn’t answer immediately. When he finally looked up, his eyes were hardened, his defenses back up. “I’m fine. Just tired of everyone acting like I’m some kind of screw-up.”

Cesare sighed, leaning forward. “No one thinks that. Ricky’s just worried. We all are. Last night—it got out of hand, and we’re just trying to make sure you’re alright.”

Valerio clenched his jaw, frustration flaring up again. “I don’t need everyone treating me like a kid. I know what I’m doing, alright? Let me breathe.”

Edoardo frowned, a pang of guilt tightening his chest. He could see so much of himself in Valerio—he knew what it was like to push back, to act like everything was under control when it wasn’t. “Look, I get it,” Edoardo said, his voice careful. “But Riccardo’s not wrong, either. Those guys… they’re not really your friends, you know?”

Valerio shot him a sharp look. “And who are you to say that? You barely know them.”

Edoardo hesitated, a flicker of something vulnerable crossing his face. “I know enough. And I know what it’s like to get caught up in that scene. It’s easy to think you’re just having fun, but it can turn on you fast.”

Valerio’s gaze narrowed. “You’re saying I’m just like you, huh? That I’ve got a problem?”

Edoardo stiffened, feeling the sting of the words. Before he could respond, Cesare stepped in, his voice calm but firm. “Alright, watch it. We’re not here to judge anyone. But you’ve got to understand that we’re coming from a place of concern, not control.”

He scoffed, but the edge in his voice was less sharp than before. “Yeah, well, I don’t need concern. I need people to trust me to figure things out.”

Cesare nodded slowly, choosing his words carefully. “We do trust you, Vale. But trust goes both ways. You’ve got to trust that when Riccardo, or any of us, step in, it’s because we care, not because we think you’re incapable.” There was a heavy pause as Valerio absorbed Cesare’s words. He looked down at his phone again, the screen dark and blank now, and took a deep breath.

“I get it, okay? But you’ve all got to back off a little. Let me deal with this.”

Edoardo exchanged a glance with Cesare, who gave a slight nod. Edoardo turned back to Valerio, his tone gentler now. “Alright. But just… don’t shut us out, man. We’re here when you need us.” Valerio didn’t respond, but the tension in his shoulders eased just a little. He knew deep down that he wasn’t handling things as well as he wanted to believe, but admitting that felt like crossing a line he wasn’t ready for. Just as the silence settled over the room again, Valerio’s phone buzzed, breaking the moment. He glanced at the screen and felt a jolt of irritation as he saw the name of one of his older peers flash across it. Without thinking, he answered the call, putting it on speaker.

“Valerio!” The voice on the other end was loud, almost obnoxiously so. “Man, last night was wild, huh? We’ve got to do that again sometime.”

His expression hardened, a mixture of embarrassment and anger tightening his chest. “Yeah, about that…” he began, but the peer cut him off with a laugh.

“Oh, don’t be a downer. You’re one of us now. Just need to loosen up a bit more, and you’ll fit right in.”

Riccardo’s words from earlier echoed in his mind, and a fresh wave of anger surged through him. “You guys left me at the club, remember? That’s not exactly how friends act.”

The peer’s laugh faded slightly, replaced by a tone of indifference. “Come on, don’t be so sensitive. We figured you could handle yourself. Besides, it was all in good fun.” Valerio’s grip tightened on the phone, but before he could respond, Riccardo’s voice broke through the tension. He had walked back into the room without anyone noticing, his expression dark and resolute.

“Fun? Is that what you call it? Getting him trashed and leaving him to fend for himself?” There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. “Who the hell is that?”

“The guy who had to pick up the pieces after you bailed,” Riccardo shot back, his voice cold. “And let me make this clear—Valerio’s not your entertainment. He’s done with you and your bullshit.” Valerio’s eyes widened, torn between anger and relief as he watched Riccardo take control of the situation. The peer on the other end stammered something incoherent before the line went dead, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Riccardo stared down at Valerio, his expression softening slightly, but the anger was still there, simmering just below the surface.

“This isn’t over. But for now, you need to figure out who your real friends are.” He met his gaze, the weight of Riccardo’s words sinking in. He knew Riccardo was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it. But there was still that stubborn part of him that resisted, that didn’t want to give Riccardo the satisfaction of being right. Before he could respond, Riccardo turned and walked out of the room again, leaving Valerio to sit with his thoughts. Edoardo and Cesare exchanged a look, unsure of what to say. They both knew this was just the beginning of a much longer conversation—one that wouldn’t be resolved in a single morning.

Valerio’s thoughts churned, each one crashing against the next in a relentless wave of frustration, guilt, and defiance. The silence stretched out, thick and uncomfortable, as Edoardo and Cesare exchanged wary glances. They were used to Riccardo’s overbearing nature, but the intensity of the confrontation had left even them on edge.

Finally, Cesare spoke, his voice cautious. “Vale, he’s just worried about you. You know that, right?”

Valerio stared at the phone in his hand, his mind replaying the events of the night before like a broken record. The drinking, the laughter that had turned hollow, the way his so-called friends had ditched him without a second thought. But what gnawed at him most was the way Riccardo had stormed in, taking control of the situation like Valerio was some helpless kid who couldn’t handle his own life. It made his blood boil.

“I don’t need him handling my shit,” Valerio muttered, more to himself than to the others.

Edoardo leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “He’s not trying to handle it, man. He’s trying to protect you. There’s a difference.”

“Is there?” He shot back, his eyes flashing with anger. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like it. It feels like he doesn’t think I can handle anything on my own.”

Edoardo bit back a sigh, recognizing the familiar tone in Valerio’s voice. It was the same defiance he had used countless times when people tried to tell him he had a problem. He had always pushed them away, too proud or too stubborn to admit he was spiraling. He could see Valerio was on that same path, and it terrified him.

“Look,” Edoardo said, choosing his words carefully, “I know what it’s like to feel like people are coming down on you, like they don’t trust you. But sometimes, they’re right to be worried. Sometimes you’re too deep in it to see how bad things are getting.”

Valerio’s jaw tightened. “I’m not you, Edoardo. I’ve got this under control.”

“Do you?” Edoardo’s voice was sharper than he intended, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. “Because last night didn’t look like control to me. It looked like you were being used by those guys, and you didn’t even realize it.”

Valerio’s eyes blazed with anger. “I don’t need a lecture from you, alright? You’re not exactly a saint. Nobody here is.”

The words hit home, and Edoardo flinched, the accusation cutting deep. But before he could respond, Cesare intervened, stepping between them like a mediator. “Okay, cut the shit,” he said firmly. “Drop the attitude Vale, because we’re not your enemies here. We’re just trying to make sure you don’t end up in a worse situation.”

Valerio crossed his arms, his anger still simmering just below the surface. “You’re all making it out to be more than it is. It was one night.”

“Was it?” Riccardo’s voice suddenly cut through the tension as he re-entered the room, his expression stony. He had clearly overheard the conversation, and the look in his eyes made it clear he wasn’t done with this discussion. “Because this feels like it’s been building for a while now.”

Valerio glared at him. “Oh please, you’re overreacting.”

Riccardo stepped closer, his presence imposing. “Maybe. But I’d rather overreact now than have to scrape you off the pavement later because you decided to trust the wrong people.”

Valerio’s chest tightened, the reality of Riccardo’s words hitting harder than he wanted to admit. But he couldn’t back down now, not after everything that had been said. “You don’t get it. You think you’re helping, but you’re just suffocating me. I need space to figure things out on my own.”

“And what about when that space gets you into trouble?” Riccardo shot back, his voice rising. “You think those guys care about you? They left you to rot as soon as things got messy. That’s not friendship, Valerio. That’s manipulation.”

Edoardo, sensing the situation escalating again, stepped in front of Riccardo, trying to defuse the tension. “Ricky, ease up. We’re all on the same side here.”

But Riccardo wasn’t backing down. “Are we? Because it seems like everyone’s just enabling him, pretending this isn’t a bigger problem.”

Valerio’s anger flared. “I don’t need you to babysit me!”

“I’m not trying to babysit you!” Riccardo snapped, his control slipping. “I’m trying to make sure you don’t end up in a situation you can’t walk away from.”

“Like what?” Valerio challenged, his voice rising. “What do you think’s going to happen?”

“Worst case?” Riccardo said, his voice deadly serious. “You get into a car with someone drunker than you are, or you get into a fight you can’t win, or you pass out in some alley and never wake up. That’s what I’m afraid of, Valerio. That’s what keeps me up at night.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as the weight of Riccardo’s words sank in. Even Edoardo, who had been ready to argue further, couldn’t find a response. Cesare looked between them, his own concern etched on his face, but he didn’t know how to bridge the gap that had grown between them all. Finally, Valerio looked away, his anger replaced by a hollow feeling he couldn’t shake.

“I’m not that stupid,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

“I know you’re not. But you’re also not invincible. None of us are.” Riccardo’s expression softened, but his resolve remained.

Valerio didn’t respond, his thoughts swirling in a chaotic mess. The truth was, he didn’t know where to go from here. He felt trapped between his pride and the undeniable fact that Riccardo might be right. He couldn’t meet his gaze. The reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt sick, ashamed, but also angry at himself, at those so-called friends, and at Riccardo for being right all along. Riccardo handed the phone back without a word, then turned to leave the room, his patience finally exhausted.

“You figure out what you want. But don’t expect me to just stand by and watch you destroy yourself.”

As he walked out, the tension in the room remained thick and suffocating. He had never felt so lost, so conflicted. He wanted to lash out, to deny everything, but deep down, he knew the truth was staring him in the face. Edoardo shifted uneasily, his own guilt and fear gnawing at him. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but he knew Valerio needed time to process everything.

Finally, Valerio spoke, his voice low and strained. “I—I screwed up, didn’t I?”

Cesare, who had been silently watching from the sidelines, nodded slowly. “Yeah, Vale, you did. But we’re talking about Ricky, he gets aggressive when scared. You know he loves you and he will always, always, worry about you. About all of us. So it’s not too late to fix it.” Valerio looked up at his friends, the weight of their concern pressing down on him. For the first time, he realized just how far he had pushed them away, how much he had taken their support for granted. And now, standing on the edge of something he couldn’t fully understand, he wasn’t sure how to make things right. But one thing was clear—he couldn’t do it alone.

[vmygdvlv]

After Hours: echoes of a night !

Genre: angst. series / part.i

Pairing: valerio x riccardo + (some Edoardo & Cesare in the mix) italian boys!au

Summary: valerio finds himself drawn into the world of his older university peers, eager to fit in and prove himself. when they invite him out for a night of drinking and revelry, valerio is excited but anxious, knowing that the crowd he’s with is more experienced and reckless.

Warnings: emotional distress, substance abuse, peer pressure, aggressive behavior

The tension in the small apartment was palpable. Valerio’s place, typically a haven of calm and order, had transformed into a raucous gathering spot. The cluttered living room was a stark contrast to its usual neatness, with snacks and half-empty glasses strewn across the floor. The sound of loud laughter and clinking bottles filled the space as Valerio’s older peers took over.

Luca, a tall figure with an air of effortless charm, was holding court. “Tonight’s going to be epic,” he declared, his voice carrying an edge of bravado. “And let’s not forget, it’s Andrea’s birthday. We’re going all out!”

Andrea, the birthday boy, grinned broadly, raising a nearly full glass in a toast. “Cheers to another year of living it up!” He downed his drink with exaggerated gusto, prompting cheers from the group. Valerio, caught between the excitement of the night and the unease of his disheveled home, tried to keep up the facade of confidence. His attempts to join in the conversation felt hollow, a stark contrast to the wild energy of his friends. He moved around, picking up after them, though his gestures were more resigned than enthusiastic.

“Hey, Valerio, don’t sweat it,” Marta said with a teasing lilt in her voice. She was perched on the arm of the sofa, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s a party, not a library.”

Valerio managed a tight smile. “Yeah, I guess. Just trying to keep things from getting too crazy.”

Marta’s laughter was cut short by Luca’s booming voice. “Come on, let loose! We’re celebrating Andrea’s big day, remember?”

The apartment, once a serene sanctuary, now echoed with the sounds of unchecked revelry. Bottles clattered as they were opened and closed, music blared from a portable speaker, and the group’s loud conversation reverberated off the walls. Valerio’s initial excitement was overshadowed by a growing sense of anxiety. He was keenly aware of every misplaced item and every spilled drink, the mess a stark contrast to his usual orderliness.

A loud crash from the kitchen interrupted Valerio’s thoughts. He hurried over to find that someone had knocked a stack of plates onto the floor. The pieces were scattered, and the wine that had been spilled mixed with shards of porcelain. Andrea and Luca were in the middle of it, laughing as they tried to clear the mess with little regard for the damage.

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” Andrea said dismissively, stepping over the broken plates. “It’s just a bit of fun.” Valerio’s frustration bubbled up, but he forced himself to keep calm. “Can we try to keep it down a bit? It’s a lot to clean up.”

“Relax,” Luca replied with a dismissive wave. “We’re just having a good time. It’s not the end of the world.”

As the evening progressed, the energy in the room was infectious. The group’s laughter and animated chatter filled the space, creating a sense of camaraderie that Valerio tried to embrace. He put on a brave face, masking his anxiety with a veneer of excitement. He was eager to make a good impression and prove himself to his friends, even if it meant pushing his limits. In the midst of the preparations, Valerio’s phone buzzed with a message from Riccardo. It was a simple, straightforward text: “How’s everything going? Remember to be careful tonight.”

Valerio’s stomach tightened slightly. Riccardo, though well-meaning, had always been a bit overprotective. He was like an older brother, and while Valerio appreciated the concern, he didn’t want to appear as though he couldn’t handle himself. He quickly typed a reply, trying to keep it casual. He texted back: “Everything’s great! Just getting ready for a fun night out. I’ll be fine.” Valerio sighed and tucked his phone into his pocket, deciding to leave it behind for the night. He was determined to embrace the freedom of the evening, even if it meant temporarily disconnecting from his usual support system.

As the group finished getting ready, Valerio’s mind wandered back to Riccardo’s text. He knew his friend was just looking out for him, but the thought of him hovering in the background added an extra layer of pressure. He wanted to prove that he could navigate the nightlife on his own, without anyone’s interference.

“Alright, everyone, let’s get going!” Luca shouted over the din. “Time to hit the pub and keep this party rolling!”

The clock ticked closer to midnight, and the group decided it was time to head out. They gathered their things, with Valerio feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. His friends were chatting animatedly, and he tried to match their enthusiasm, though he could not completely shake the feeling of unease that lingered beneath the surface.

Before leaving, he glanced at his phone one last time. There was another message from Riccardo, this one more concerned. “Just checking in. Remember, I’m only a call away if you need anything.” He sighed and tucked his phone into his pocket, deciding to leave it behind for the night. He was determined to embrace the freedom of the evening, even if it meant temporarily disconnecting from his usual support system.

As the group spilled out into the chilly night air, their laughter echoing down the street, he took a deep breath, trying to shake off his lingering doubts. Tonight was about enjoying himself and proving he could hold his own. He pushed aside any lingering anxiety, focusing on the camaraderie and the promise of an exciting night ahead. Little did he know that the night would unravel in ways he hadn’t anticipated, setting off a series of events that would test his limits and the strength of his friendships. But for now, as they made their way to the pub, he was determined to enjoy the moment and make the most of the evening.

Across the table, his friends laughed loudly, already deep into their drinks. The bar was dimly lit, filled with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of glasses. Luca nudged him with an elbow.

“Vale, why so quiet? You’re not bailing on us, are you?”Valerio forced a grin, raising his glass. “Nah, just… trying to keep up with you guys,” he said, the alcohol making his words slur slightly.

Marta leaned in closer, her voice dripping with mock concern. “You sure? You look like you’ve had enough already.”

“Hey, let the kid drink!” Andrea, shouted, laughing. “He’s gotta learn sometime.”

Valerio’s phone buzzed, but he quickly shoved it deeper into his pocket, ignoring the concerned glances from his friends. He didn’t need anyone’s interference tonight. But deep down, a knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach, once he tried to drown with another gulp of beer. His vision blurred even further. He laughed along with the others, but it felt hollow, forced. He was barely holding it together.

Marta noticed, her smile turning a bit sharper. “You sure you can handle this? You’re looking a little worse for wear.”

He nodded too quickly, the motion making his head spin. “I’m fine, really. Just need to… sit for a minute.”

Andrea exchanged a glance with Marta, smirking. “Maybe he’s more lightweight than we thought. Should’ve stuck to soda, kid.” The teasing hit harder than it should have, and Valerio’s pride flared. “I’m not a kid,” he snapped, trying to steady himself. “I can handle it.”

Marta raised an eyebrow. “Prove it, then. One more shot?”

He hesitated, but the challenge was too much to back down from. He reached for the shot glass Marta slid over, trying to ignore the way his hand shook. Just as he brought it to his lips, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text.

Riccardo. Again. “Vale, answer your damn phone. I’m worried. Call me back.” He glanced at the message, a pang of guilt momentarily cutting through the haze. But he shoved it aside, downing the shot in one go. The liquid burned on the way down, and he nearly gagged, but forced himself to swallow. His friends cheered, but the victory felt hollow. Everything felt hollow.

A while later, he stumbled outside for air, the cool night hitting him hard. His head was spinning as he stumbled out of the club, the thumping bass still reverberating in his ears. The cool night air hit him like a slap, but it did little to clear the fog in his mind. He fumbled with his phone, blinking hard to focus on the screen. His vision blurred as he tried to dial Riccardo’s number. His hand shook, partly from the cold, but mostly from the alcohol coursing through his veins. His mind was a chaotic mess of regret and anger. He hadn’t wanted to call Riccardo—he knew how furious his older friend would be—but he didn’t see any other option.

The night had started innocently enough. A few drinks, some laughs with the older guys from his sound engineering program, an attempt to fit in. He had been eager to prove he wasn’t just the young, inexperienced student they all saw him as. But things had quickly spiraled out of control. The older students, with their easy confidence and their years of experience, had pushed him further than he was ready to go. Drinks kept coming, faster than he could manage, and before he knew it, Valerio was far past his limit.

Riccardo paced back and forth in his living room, the clock on the wall ticking relentlessly. It was past two in the morning and he hadn’t heard from Valerio since earlier that evening. The last text had been short, almost dismissive: “Heading out with some friends. Don’t wait up.” It wasn’t like him to be so vague. Usually, he was upfront about his plans, especially when it came to going out late. But something about tonight had felt off, and his instincts were screaming that something was wrong.

He grabbed his phone and opened the call log. The sight of his unanswered calls and unread texts only fueled his growing frustration. He’d tried to give Valerio space, tried to respect that he was an adult now, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Valerio was in over his head. These older guys from university—they weren’t the kind of people he trusted. They were the type who saw Valerio as an easy mark, someone they could mold into their own image. He dialed Valerio’s number again, but it went straight to voicemail. He swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Vale, where the hell are you?”

He tossed his phone on the couch and sat down, trying to think rationally. He knew he couldn’t just storm in and drag Valerio home like a child. But the thought of him out there, possibly drunk and surrounded by people who didn’t have his best interests at heart, gnawed at him. He had seen this kind of thing before—he’d watched friends fall into bad crowds, make bad decisions, and end up paying the price. And he’d be damned if he was going to let Valerio end up the same way.

Now, standing outside the club, feeling the world tilt dangerously, Valerio cursed under his breath. He had ignored his friend’s calls earlier, too caught up in the thrill of the night to care. But now, as he swayed on the sidewalk, the weight of his mistake pressed down on him. He knew Riccardo had warned him about this group, had told him to be careful. But he hadn’t listened. He wanted to prove himself, to show he could handle it. Instead, he had ended up here—drunk, alone, and desperate.

The phone rang in his hand, and after what felt like an eternity, Riccardo picked up. His voice was sharp, tinged with a mix of relief and anger. “Where the hell are you?”

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “I… I’m outside the club. Need… need you to pick me up.”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and Valerio could almost picture Riccardo’s expression—tight-lipped, eyes narrowed in frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Riccardo finally said, his tone dangerously calm. “I’ve been calling you for hours. Hours. And now you decide to answer?”

“I… I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his words slurring together. “Didn’t… didn’t see the calls.”

Riccardo let out a harsh laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “You didn’t see them? Or you ignored them? Because I’m pretty sure you were too busy getting trashed with those so-called friends of yours.”

Valerio winced at the accusation, shame prickling at the back of his neck. He knew his friend was right, but admitting it felt like swallowing glass. “I wasn’t… I just—”

“Save it,” Riccardo cut him off, his voice hardening. “Just tell me where you are.”

Valerio gave him the address, his stomach churning with a mix of guilt and nausea. He heard Riccardo mutter something under his breath before the line went dead. The abruptness of the hang-up left him standing in the cold, the silence pressing down on him. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, feeling more alone than ever. Minutes passed like hours, the cold seeping into the bones as he waited. He tried to ignore the looks from passersby, their judgmental glances only heightening his sense of humiliation. He knew he had messed up—badly. And now he would have to face Riccardo’s wrath. When he car finally pulled up, his heart sank. He could see the tension in Riccardo’s posture even before he got out of the car. The older man’s face was a mask of controlled anger as he approached, his eyes locking onto him with a look that could burn through steel.

“Get in the car,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Valerio didn’t argue. He could feel Riccardo’s fury simmering beneath the surface, and the last thing he wanted was to set it off. He slid into the passenger seat, his movements sluggish and uncoordinated. The door slammed shut beside him, and the sound echoed like a gunshot in the quiet street. Riccardo got in behind the wheel, his hands gripping it so tightly his knuckles turned white. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence thick with tension. Valerio could feel the anger radiating off Riccardo, a palpable force that made the air in the car feel stifling.

Finally, Riccardo broke the silence, his voice cold and sharp. “What the hell were you thinking? Going out with those guys, getting drunk off your ass… What were you trying to prove?”

Valerio stared at his hands, his shame battling with the lingering buzz of alcohol. “They said it would be fun.”

“Fun?” Riccardo spat the word like it was poison. “Does this look like fun to you? Being so drunk you can barely stand? Having to call me to bail you out?”

“I didn’t want to call you!” Valerio snapped, his frustration boiling over. “I knew you’d react like this!”

Riccardo’s eyes flashed with anger. “React like what? Like someone who gives a damn about you? Because, believe me, I’m the only one who does! Those friends of yours left you out here to rot. They didn’t care what happened to you, and you’re too damn blind to see it!”

Valerio clenched his fists, the words cutting deep. He wanted to argue, to defend himself, but he knew Riccardo was right. The truth was hard to swallow, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “I’m not a kid. I can make my own decisions.”

“Yeah? Well, you made a hell of a decision tonight, didn’t you?” Riccardo’s voice was laced with sarcasm, his anger barely contained. “You think you’re proving something by getting wasted with people who don’t give a damn about you? You’re only proving how easy you are to manipulate.”

Valerio’s chest tightened, the words hitting harder than he expected. “I just… I wanted them to take me seriously.”

Riccardo let out a bitter laugh. “And did they? Did they take you seriously when they left you out here? When they pushed you to drink more even though you were clearly out of your depth?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. He didn’t have an answer. He knew Riccardo was right, but admitting it felt like a defeat. Instead, he turned his gaze to the window, staring at the passing lights as the car sped through the empty streets.

The silence stretched on, thick and oppressive. Valerio’s thoughts were a tangled mess, the alcohol making it hard to focus. But one thing was clear—he had messed up, and there was no easy way to fix it. When they finally pulled up to Valerio’s apartment, Riccardo turned off the engine but didn’t move to get out. He sat there, his hands still gripping the wheel, his jaw clenched tight. Valerio could feel the tension radiating off him, the anger that had yet to fully dissipate.

“Valerio,” Riccardo began, his voice softer now but still laced with frustration, “I need you to understand something. I’m not just angry because you got drunk. I’m angry because you put yourself in a situation where you could’ve been seriously hurt. And for what? To impress a bunch of guys who don’t give a damn about you?”

Valerio swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I didn’t think it would go this far.”

“That’s the problem,” Riccardo said, his voice tinged with sadness. “You didn’t think. You were so caught up in trying to fit in that you forgot to take care of yourself.”

Valerio nodded slowly, the weight of Riccardo’s words pressing down on him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to get this bad.”

Riccardo finally released the wheel, turning to look at Valerio. The anger had faded from his eyes, replaced by a deep concern. “Just… promise me you’ll be more careful next time. I don’t want to have to come find you like this again.”

Valerio met his gaze, the guilt gnawing at him. “I promise.”

The late night air was crisp and cool, a stark contrast to the warmth of the arguments and emotions that had filled the previous night. Valerio, now sober but visibly drained, shuffled out of the car and leaned against the passenger side, taking a moment to steady himself. Riccardo watched Valerio with a mixture of concern and frustration. He had insisted on staying the night to ensure that Valerio was safe and had a chance to reflect on the events of the previous night. There was an unspoken understanding between them—Riccardo’s presence was both a gesture of support and a necessary intervention.

“Let’s get inside,” Riccardo said, his voice softer now but still carrying an edge of determination. He nodded, though his expression was a blend of embarrassment and resignation. He led the way into the apartment, unlocking the door with a trembling hand. As they stepped inside, Riccardo glanced around, noting the disarray of the living space. Empty bottles and takeout containers were scattered about, remnants of a night that had spiraled out of control.

Valerio dropped his keys on the kitchen counter and sighed, clearly exhausted. “I didn’t expect you to stay over,” he said, trying to mask the vulnerability in his voice with a note of defiance. Riccardo closed the door behind them and followed Valerio into the living room. “I wasn’t going to leave you alone after everything.” he replied firmly. “You need to take some time to calm down and think about what happened. I’m not going to let you do that by yourself.”

Valerio rubbed his temples, the weight of the previous night’s events pressing heavily on his shoulders. “I get it,” he said, sounding more resigned than defensive. “I’m just… tired.”

Riccardo nodded, a heavy silence settling between them. “Good. Now get some sleep. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

He knew things would be different after this—his relationship with Riccardo, his view of his so-called friends, and his understanding of what it meant to make the right choices. As he collapsed onto his bed, the room spinning around him, Valerio couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight had been a turning point. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was grateful that Riccardo had been there to pull him back from the edge.

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After hours: echoes of a night !

Genre: angst. comfort.

Series: part.i, part.ii, part.iii

Pairing: valerio x riccardo + (some edoardo & cesare in the mix) italian boys!au

Summary: valerio finds himself drawn into the world of his older university peers, eager to fit in and prove himself. when they invite him out for a night of drinking and revelry, Valerio is excited but anxious, knowing that the crowd he’s with is more experienced and reckless.

Warnings: emotional distress, substance abuse, peer pressure, aggressive behavior, bad communication, fear of not belonging, being the youngest

Notes: helloo there! thankss to everyone who stops by! i wrote down in the tags the every respective member so you actually understand! If you would love to read this series please interact with an heart or a comment, I would greatly appreciate lovess. aaaand i’m deeply sorry, but angst story are my fave ones, so please forgive me if I’ll engage more with that type of content (not everything I swear)—angst fiction is indeed gasoline for my mind. but you can also request your own plot or prompt for this universe and I’ll try to make it happen and fulfill it in the best way possible! lots of loveee!

[vmygdvlv]

Stray Kids AU (italian boy version)

Kim Seungmin as Vittorio Ferrero

Vittorio was born in Turin, Italy, into a family where the arts and intellectual pursuits were deeply valued. His father, Alessandro, a distinguished historian, and his mother, Isabella, a talented pianist and music educator, fostered an environment rich in cultural and artistic experiences. Growing up alongside his younger sister, Ginevra, a contemporary dancer, Vittorio was immersed in a world of creativity and artistic expression from a young age.

The bond between Vittorio and Ginevra was particularly strong. Ginevra’s vibrant energy and innovative dance routines complemented Vittorio’s passion for theatre and cinema. Their collaborative projects, whether artistic or academic, were a source of mutual inspiration and support. Ginevra’s performances often served as a creative outlet for Vittorio, and he took pride in attending her shows, where he offered feedback and encouragement. In turn, Ginevra was a constant source of motivation for him, providing both emotional support and a fresh perspective on his work.

Vittorio’s relationship with his parents was marked by a deep respect and admiration for their achievements, yet it also came with its own set of challenges. While Alessandro and Isabella were supportive of Vittorio’s artistic aspirations, their traditional values sometimes conflicted with his more unconventional career path. The pressure to meet their expectations occasionally led to feelings of inadequacy and internal conflict. Nevertheless, their unwavering support and belief in his talent remained a cornerstone of his motivation. Despite the challenges, Vittorio’s family bonds were a source of strength

Vittorio’s personality is a complex blend of sensitivity, introspection, and determination. His empathetic nature allows him to connect deeply with his artistic work, imbuing his performances with genuine emotion. However, his introspective tendencies can lead to self-doubt and anxiety, particularly when faced with the pressures of a competitive field like cinema and theatre. This sensitivity manifests in various habits and preferences.

One of Vittorio’s habits is his meticulous journaling. He keeps detailed records of his thoughts, ideas, and reflections on his projects, which helps him manage his emotions and track his progress. While this practice can be therapeutic, it also occasionally leads him to overanalyze and second-guess his work. Vittorio is also an avid reader, with a particular fondness for classic Italian literature and contemporary plays. His reading not only provides relaxation but also serves as a source of inspiration for his own creative projects.

Despite the enriching experiences that Milan offers, Vittorio struggles with the city’s fast-paced, impersonal atmosphere. He finds solace in his daily rituals, such as visiting a small, quiet café near his apartment. There, he enjoys a peaceful coffee while reading or writing, which helps him feel connected to his roots and provides a moment of calm amidst the hustle of city life. He also enjoys exploring Milan’s quieter, less commercial areas, such as hidden bookshops and small art galleries, which offer a more intimate and inspiring environment.

Vittorio’s aversion to crowded, commercial spaces contrasts with his preference for serene, less populated settings. He is uncomfortable in noisy, chaotic environments and finds it difficult to concentrate and relax in such places. Additionally, he has a strong dislike for rigid, formulaic approaches to art and education. He values creativity and innovation, often feeling stifled by overly structured methods that limit artistic freedom.

When opportunities arise to work on projects in Rome, Vittorio seizes them eagerly. The city's rich historical and cultural backdrop provides a refreshing change from Milan’s intensity. During his time in Rome, he immerses himself in the city’s ancient streets and visits museums, finding inspiration in its storied environment. His explorations often lead him to picturesque spots and lesser-known historical sites, which spark new ideas and rejuvenate his creative spirit.

Vittorio remains deeply connected to his family in Turin. Regular visits home and frequent communication with his parents and Ginevra offer him emotional support and grounding. Their encouragement and understanding play a crucial role in helping him navigate the challenges of his academic and artistic journey.

Today, as a student of cinema and theatre in Milan, Vittorio continues to navigate the complexities of his environment with resilience and dedication. His journey reflects a commitment to his craft, a profound love for his hometown, and an ability to find comfort and inspiration through his personal habits and surroundings. Vittorio’s story is one of artistic perseverance, personal growth, and the pursuit of excellence despite the obstacles along the way.

Family background

The family environment is characterized by deep support and understanding. His parents create a warm, encouraging space where intellectual curiosity and artistic expression are deeply valued. This supportive atmosphere nurtures Vittorio’s emotional well-being and creative growth. The family’s collective encouragement and emotional resonance offer Vittorio a strong foundation, bolstering his confidence and fostering a sense of belonging in his creative journey.

Alessandro, father (historian, 58) — historian specializing in Italian history. He has a deep knowledge of historical contexts and has influenced Vittorio’s intellectual curiosity.

Isabella, mother (pianist, 55) — a pianist with a successful career in classical and contemporary music. Her musical talent has shaped Vittorio’s appreciation for the arts.

Ginevra, younger sister (student, 17) — she attends a Liceo Artistico, an Italian high school specializing in art and design. Alongside her high school’s studies, she’s enjoy contemporary dance

Friends

Vittorio’s friendships are deeply rooted in shared artistic vision, emotional resonance, intellectual stimulation, trust, and cultural enrichment. He values connections that align with his creative passions, offer emotional support, provoke thoughtful discussions, and provide diverse cultural insights, fostering both personal and professional growth.

Raffaele — met at an independent film festival where Raffaele was showcasing his short films. Vittorio, impressed by his work, struck up a conversation. They got mutual admiration for independent filmmaking. Raffaele’s innovative approach to film provides inspiration for Vittorio, and they often collaborate on experimental film projects

Celeste — they became friends through a mutual interest in theatrical improvisation workshops held in Milan. Their friendship is grounded in their love for improvisational theatre. Celeste’s background in improv enhances Vittorio’s theatrical skills, leading to joint performances and creative exploration.

Nicolò — met during a cultural exchange program in Rome. Nicolò was involved in music composition, which intrigued Vittorio. Nicolò’s compositions often provide a soundtrack for Vittorio’s film projects, and their collaborative efforts are marked by a shared enthusiasm for blending their arts.

Ottavia — they met during a collaborative art exhibition in Milan, where Ottavia was showcasing her installations. Her installation work influences Vittorio’s approach to set design and theatrical staging, leading to creative collaborations.

Valerio (I.N) — Valerio and Vittorio are childhood friends, since they’re both from Turin. They met through their shared neighborhood and schools, where they bonded over common interests and experiences. Their friendship is deeply rooted in their shared past and experiences growing up together. Valerio, now a sound engineer, collaborates with Vittorio on film projects, where their combined expertise in sound and visual arts enhances their creative work.

Edoardo (Hyunjin) — he met Edoardo through Giulio. When Giulio and Vittorio decided to collaborate on a project that combined literature and cinema, Giulio introduced Edoardo to Vittorio as a potential costume designer for their project. The three of them worked together on a short film adaptation of a literary piece. They share a mutual respect for each other’s craft and often brainstorm ways to blend fashion, film, and literature into unique projects.

Leonardo (Lee Know) — they met at a theater production in Rome. Lee Know was assisting with choreography, and Seungmin was part of the musical ensemble. They connected over their love for performing arts. They discovered a shared enthusiasm for storytelling and visual arts, which led to a strong connection. Their friendship grew as they collaborated on various artistic projects and supported each other’s academic and creative pursuits

Cesare (Changbin) — they met during a university business course in Milan, where they discovered common interests in the commercial aspects of the arts and media. Their friendship is built on a shared understanding of how business and creativity intersect. Their bond is marked by a professional yet personal rapport, where they support each other’s goals and collaborate on projects

Riccardo (Bang Chan) — they met during a music production workshop in Milan, where their paths crossed due to their mutual interests in integrating music and film. Their bond is characterized by a collaborative spirit and a deep appreciation for how sound can enhance narrative and emotional impact in film. They frequently discuss and experiment with ways to fuse their artistic skills, which strengthens their creative partnership

Federico (Felix) — met during a summer arts program in Rome, where Federico had traveled from Naples to broaden his creative horizons. They bonded over their shared interest in theatre and fashion. Their friendship grew from their collaborative work on various artistic projects. Their connection is strengthened by their shared passion for the arts and their joint creative projects

Giulio (Han) — met during their first year at university in Milan. Giulio, studying literature while Vittorio enrolled in cinema and theatre. They connected through a mutual interest in the intersection of narrative and performance. Their bond is characterized by intellectual camaraderie and a mutual appreciation for each other’s insights into both written and performed arts, storytelling and literature analysis

Neighborhoods

Turin, Centro — the central district, featuring historic architecture, cultural landmarks, and vibrant street life, provide Vittorio with inspiration and a connection to Turin’s rich cultural heritage.

Milan, Brera — known for its artistic and cultural significance, with art galleries, museums, and stylish cafes, Brera resonate with Vittorio’s passion for art and cinema.

Favorite Italian artists

Franco Battiato — known for his philosophical and eclectic music, which resonates with Vittorio’s introspective nature.

Nitro — his energetic style and innovative approach to rap appeal to Vittorio’s taste for modern and dynamic music

Mina — her powerful and emotive performances reflect the depth and complexity that Vittorio appreciates. His mother used to play her songs when he was younger and he fell in love with her voice.

Annalisa — her blend of pop with introspective and powerful lyrics appeal to Vittorio’s reflective nature.

Lucio Dalla — his unique style and storytelling are in tune with Vittorio’s artistic sensibilities.

Favorite dishes

Bagna Cauda — a traditional dish from his home region of Piedmont, consisting of warm anchovy-garlic dip served with a variety of fresh vegetables. Vittorio loves the communal aspect of sharing this dish, as well as its bold, savory flavors.

Vitello Tonnato — another Piedmontese classic, this cold dish features thinly sliced veal covered in a creamy, tangy tuna sauce. Vittorio appreciates its delicate balance of flavors and its ties to his regional heritage.

Orecchiette con Cime di Rapa — a simple yet flavorful pasta dish from Puglia, featuring orecchiette pasta with broccoli rabe, garlic, and anchovies. Vittorio is drawn to its rustic simplicity and the way it highlights the earthy flavors of Southern Italy.

Polenta concia — a hearty and comforting dish made from polenta enriched with butter and melted cheese, typical of Northern Italy. Vittorio finds this dish nostalgic and enjoys it during colder months.

Caponata — a Sicilian dish made from eggplant, olives, capers, and tomatoes, with a sweet and sour flavor. Vittorio appreciates its vibrant taste and the way it captures the essence of Southern Italy’s cuisine.

Favorite movies

Il Postino (1994) — directed by Michael Radford, this poetic story about love and poetry appeal to Vittorio’s appreciation for lyrical and emotionally rich narratives

La Haine (1995) — directed by Mathieu Kassovitz (not Italian, but Vittorio loves French cinema) this raw and gritty portrayal of life in the Parisian suburbs appeal to Vittorio’s interest in socially relevant and thought-provoking stories

Suspiria (1977) — directed by Dario Argento, this horror classic is known for its striking visuals and atmospheric tension, appealing to Vittorio’s taste for unique and innovative cinema.

Nostalghia (1983) — directed by Andrei Tarkovsky (though not Italian, it has a strong Italian connection through its production), it’s a meditative film with a profound sense of longing and isolation that would appeal to Vittorio’s introspective nature.

Favorite writers

Italo Calvino — known for his imaginative and innovative narratives, which appeal to Vittorio’s appreciation for creativity and literary experimentation.

Elsa Morante — her profound and evocative novels, such as “La Storia,” resonate with Vittorio’s taste for complex human emotions and historical contexts.

Pier Paolo Pasolini — his works, including “The Decameron,” reflect social and political critiques, offering a rich blend of literary and cinematic storytelling that Vittorio admires.

Gabriele D’Annunzio — known for his evocative and decadent prose, D’Annunzio’s work aligns with Vittorio’s appreciation for rich, poetic language and dramatic themes.

Favorite seaside spots

Camogli, Liguria – a picturesque fishing village with colorful buildings and a charming harbor, offering a tranquil escape from more touristy areas.

Baia dei Turchi, Puglia – a hidden beach near Otranto with stunning turquoise waters and a more secluded, natural environment.

San Vito Lo Capo, Sicily – while gaining popularity, it retains quieter areas and pristine beaches, known for its beautiful setting and clear waters.

Most used slang words

Boh — used to express uncertainty or indifference, similar to saying “I don’t know” or “whatever”

Magari — often used to mean “I wish” or “maybe,” expressing hope or a strong desire for something

Figata — a term used to describe something cool or awesome. Vittorio use this to express enthusiasm about a film or project

Che sbatti! — an expression to complain about something annoying or exhausting, reflecting Vittorio’s frustrations, especially with university tasks

Fare un giro — literally meaning “to take a walk,” but Vittorio use it more loosely to mean hanging out or going out for a casual stroll

Most used slurs

Given Vittorio’s personality, the use of these slurs would be rare and likely only occur in situations of heightened stress or conflict. He’s more inclined to use nuanced language and expression, reserving these terms for when he’s pushed to his limits. If Vittorio, despite his typically reflective and respectful nature, occasionally used some harsher language in moments of frustration or strong emotion he would use:

Cazzo — a versatile and common vulgar term, equivalent to “damn” or “f*ck,” used out of frustration or anger. Vittorio might say this when something goes seriously wrong

Stronzo — literally meaning “asshole,” this insult could slip out in a moment of anger, particularly if someone has acted unfairly or rudely towards him

Coglione — meaning “idiot” or “jerk,” Vittorio might use this term to describe someone who has acted foolishly or irritates him

Representatives phrases

Non c’è fretta, facciamolo bene (There’s no rush, let’s do it right.) reason: a phrase that shows his patient and thoughtful approach to his work and projects

Un caffè, e ripartiamo (A coffee, and we go again.) reason: Vittorio’s habit of recharging with coffee before diving back into his work or studies

L’arte è una necessità, non un lusso (Art is a necessity, not a luxury.) reason: a phrase that underlines his deep belief in the importance of art and culture

Milano è lavoro, Torino è vita (Milan is work, Turin is life.) reason: Expressing his view that Milan is where he works, but Turin is where his heart truly belongs

Favorite idioms

Tra il dire e il fare c’è di mezzo il mare (There’s a sea between saying and doing.) reflecting Vittorio’s awareness of the challenges in translating ideas into actions, particularly in creative endeavors.

Meglio un uovo oggi che una gallina domani (Better an egg today than a chicken tomorrow.) this idiom speaks to Vittorio’s practical side, valuing the present and immediate opportunities over uncertain future gains

Non si vive di solo pane (Man does not live by bread alone.) reflecting Vittorio’s belief in the importance of art, culture, and emotional fulfillment beyond mere survival

[vmygdvlv]

Whispers !

Genre: angst & friendship drama. one-shot.

Pairing: eighteen!federico (felix) x nineteen!cesare (changbin) italian boys au !

Summary: federico and cesare confront their emotional struggles and fears. through a heartfelt conversation, they work towards understanding and accepting each other despite their differences.

Warnings: sensitive themes (issue of identity, self worth, judgment), emotional intensity

Notes: if you come across this post and decide to read it, thank you! I appreciate the interest and if you like this universe where skz are normal Italian boys you can also request personal ones! I found the idea very interesting and funny too! This is the first “imagines” of many. So yeah, if you liked it please leave an heart. Enjoy <3

The narrow streets of Naples had a language of their own—a dialect not spoken, but felt. Federico walked through them like a ghost, his presence barely stirring the humid air. The sun hung low in the sky, casting the city in hues of gold and shadow, but even that warmth couldn’t reach the cold inside him. He had spent hours wandering, trying to shake off the conversation that clung to his mind like wet clothes. It was Cesare, of course, who had brought him to this state—a storm of emotions held back only by the fragile dam of silence.

He reached the old courtyard where they always met. It was their sanctuary, hidden away from the world, a place where they could be themselves without the masks they wore for others. Federico traced the cracks in the walls with his eyes, seeking comfort in their permanence. He was early, as usual. Cesare would arrive soon, and with him, the inevitable conversation they both had been avoiding.

Federico had always been different, and it was this difference that both drew and repelled Cesare. The way Federico moved, the softness of his voice, the way he saw the world—all of it was drenched in an energy that Cesare couldn’t quite understand. There was a femininity in Federico, an effortless grace that blurred the lines of identity. It was this quality that had first captured Cesare’s attention, making him protective of Federico in a way that sometimes felt overwhelming.

When Cesare finally appeared, Federico’s heart tightened. Cesare was all sharp edges and barely-contained intensity, a contrast to Federico’s quiet fluidity. They were two halves of something incomplete, bound together by a need neither could fully articulate. Cesare leaned against the wall, lighting a cigarette, his dark eyes searching Federico’s face for answers to questions he was too afraid to ask.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Federico said softly, his voice almost swallowed by the distant hum of the city.

Cesare exhaled smoke, the air between them thickening. “I didn’t think I could stay away.”

It was always like this between them—words edged with meaning, sentences left unfinished. They were caught in a dance of unspoken fears and hidden worries, each too afraid to break the silence that defined their friendship.

“You’ve been distant,” Federico murmured, his fingers brushing the rough stone of the wall. He didn’t look at Cesare, couldn’t bear to see the truth in his eyes.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” Cesare replied, but the words felt hollow. There was more to it than that, and they both knew it.

Federico’s thoughts churned, a storm of doubts and insecurities. He could feel the weight of his own existence pressing down on him, the way his difference made him a target for the world’s judgments. And now, it seemed, even Cesare was faltering under that weight. Federico had always been afraid that Cesare would wake up one day and realize what a burden their friendship was. That day felt closer than ever.

“Why do you let them get to you?” Cesare asked suddenly, his voice rougher than usual. “You let their whispers control you.”

Federico flinched, as if the words had struck him physically. “It’s not that simple.”

Cesare shook his head, frustration simmering beneath his calm exterior. “You make it complicated. You’re stronger than you think.”

Federico’s lips trembled as he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. “You don’t understand. You never have.”

Silence fell between them, thick with the weight of what they couldn’t say. Federico could feel the walls closing in, his heart pounding in his chest. There was a part of him that wanted to scream, to release all the pain and confusion that had built up inside him for so long. But another part, the part that had kept him alive all these years, knew better. That part told him to stay silent, to hide his true self behind a mask of calm.

Cesare finally spoke, his voice quieter now. “I don’t want to lose you, Federico. But I don’t know how to reach you anymore.”

Federico looked up, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “You don’t need to reach me, Cesare. You just need to accept me.”

Cesare looked away, his jaw clenched. Federico knew what that gesture meant—it was a sign of retreat, of the internal battle Cesare was fighting. Cesare had always been drawn to Federico’s softness, his ability to find beauty in places others overlooked, but it was that same softness that made him uncomfortable, that made him question how to protect Federico from the world.

“I’m trying,” Cesare said, his voice almost a whisper. “But sometimes I don’t know who you are.”

The words cut through Federico like a knife. He had always known that his femininity was a challenge for Cesare, a test of his boundaries. But hearing it spoken aloud, in that raw, unfiltered way, was almost too much to bear.

Federico turned away, wrapping his arms around himself as if to shield his heart. “Maybe you don’t want to know,” he whispered, more to himself than to Cesare.

Cesare took a step forward but stopped himself, unsure whether to close the distance between them. “That’s not true. I want to understand, Federico. But you keep pushing me away.”

“I’m not pushing you away,” Federico said, his voice trembling. “I’m just afraid that if you see the real me, you’ll leave.”

Federico closed his eyes, letting the tears fall at last. He had spent so long trying to be what others wanted him to be, trying to fit into a world that didn’t make space for people like him. But in doing so, he had lost himself, become a shadow of the person he was meant to be. And now, standing here with Cesare, he realized that he couldn’t keep hiding—not from Cesare, and not from himself.

Cesare stared at him, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time in a long while, Federico felt a glimmer of hope. But it was a fragile hope, easily shattered by the realities of their situation. Federico knew that Cesare’s acceptance of him was conditional, that it depended on Cesare’s ability to reconcile his protective instincts with the expectations of the world around them. And that was something Federico couldn’t control.

Taking a deep breath, Federico decided to do what he had never done before—to be completely honest, no matter the cost.

“I’m not like you, Cesare. I never have been,” Federico began, his voice steady despite the fear gripping him. “I see the world differently. I feel things differently. And I don’t want to change that, not even for you.”

Cesare’s expression softened, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I never asked you to change.”

“But you wanted me to,” Federico countered. “You wanted me to be more like you, to fit into your idea of how life should be. But I can’t do that, Cesare. I can’t pretend to be something I’m not.”

Cesare took another step closer, his gaze fixed on Federico’s. “I know. And I’m sorry. I just… I’m afraid too. Afraid of losing you, of losing what we have.”

Federico shook his head, his heart aching with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. “You don’t have to be afraid, Cesare. You just have to accept that I am who I am.”

The two stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them slowly dissolving into something else—something deeper, more honest. Federico could see the struggle in Cesare’s eyes, the conflict between his desire to protect Federico and his fear of what that protection might cost him. But there was also a new understanding there, a realization that perhaps, the only way forward was to let go of the expectations that had bound them both for so long.

Finally, Cesare nodded, a small, hesitant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re right. I don’t want to change you, Federico. I just want us to be okay.”

Federico’s heart swelled with emotion, the words he had longed to hear finally spoken. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a start—a fragile, tentative beginning to something new. He reached out, his hand trembling, and Cesare took it, their fingers intertwining in a gesture of quiet solidarity.

The whispers of the city faded into the background as they stood there, two friends finding solace in each other’s presence. For the first time in a long while, Federico felt a sense of peace, knowing that he didn’t have to hide anymore. He could be himself, and that was enough.

[vmygdvlv]

Stray Kids AU (italian boy version)

Hwang Hyunjin as Edoardo Ricci

Edoardo was born in Tuscany, more specifically in Florence, coming from a family with a rich cultural heritage, from a lineage of artists and academics. He grown up surrounded by art, literature, and music, which shaped his artistic sensibilities. The childhood in Florence was marked by a nurturing environment, including his parents and siblings, that fostered his creative talents. Surrounded by art and design from a young age, and supported by his family, he developed a passion for fashion that led him to pursue a career in this field. The household was filled with artistic influences, from paintings and sculptures to stylish attire. From a young age, Edoardo was also exposed to art galleries, fashion exhibitions, and design studios. His family encouraged his interest in drawing, painting, and creating his own designs, nurturing his creative talents.

As a teenager, Edoardo began to focus more on fashion, experimenting with clothing design and creating his own sketches. He spent hours designing outfits and studying fashion trends. His school projects often involved elements of design and style. He admired iconic Italian designers and international fashion figures. He followed Milan Fashion Week closely and was inspired by the creativity and innovation in the fashion world. He attended an art high school, where he excelled in art and design courses. He participated in extracurricular activities related to fashion, such as fashion clubs or design competitions. During his summer breaks, he interned at local fashion boutiques in Florence. These experiences allowed him to gain hands-on experience and insights into the fashion industry.

Edoardo realized that fashion design was not just a hobby but a true passion. His artistic skills and love for creating unique designs made it clear that he wanted to pursue this as a career so, to receive the best education in fashion, Edoardo chose to study at Istituto Marangoni, Milan’s fashion school. Moving to Milan was both exciting and challenging for Edoardo. Milan, known as the fashion capital of Italy, was a vibrant, fast-paced city filled with opportunities. He rented a small apartment in the Brera district, known for its artistic vibe and proximity to the fashion industry’s heart.

At university, Edoardo excelled in his studies, impressing his professors and peers with his creativity and dedication. He quickly became known for his innovative designs that combined classic Italian elegance with modern, avant-garde elements. His magnetic personality and keen sense of style earned him a close-knit group of friends, many of whom were also aspiring designers, artists, and photographers. He’s a natural in social settings, making him effortlessly connect with people not matter the context.

Personality speaking, he was a complex and multifaceted individual, embodying a blend of creativity, ambition, and sensitivity. His upbringing in Florence, surrounded by art and culture, shaped him into someone with a deep appreciation for beauty in all forms. He was meticulous, with an eye for detail that often borders on perfectionism. This drive for perfection pushed him to excel in everything he did, whether it was his fashion designs, his relationships, or his personal presentation. But while his attention to detail was a strength, it did also be a crippling weakness. He often obsessed over minor flaws, which leaded to frustration, burnout, and an inability to appreciate his own successes.

His own journey in Milan was marked by significant personal struggles. The pressure to succeed in the competitive world of fashion weighed heavily on him, exacerbating his perfectionism and anxiety. He often felt like he wasn’t doing enough, no matter how much he achieved. This mindset created a constant inner turmoil, where he was battling his own high expectations and fear of failure. As a metter of fact, beneath his confident exterior, he was deeply sensitive. He tended to internalize criticism, and his self-worth was often tied to external validation, making him prone to anxiety and self-doubt.

His ambition sometimes blinded him to the importance of balance in life. He frequently prioritized work over personal relationships, leading to feelings of isolation and burnout. His emotional vulnerability made it difficult for him to open up fully, and he often hided behind a facade of confidence and charm. In an attempt to manage the stress and anxiety of his fast-paced life, he turned to unhealthy coping mechanisms. Over time, he developed reliance on smoking, something that began as a social habit but gradually became a crutch to deal with stress. Late nights spent working often lead to excessive coffee consumption, further fueling his insomnia and anxiety.

There was also a period where Edoardo struggles with alcohol. The fashion industry’s culture of parties and networking events introduced him to a lifestyle where drinking becomes a way to unwind and escape. While he was not addicted, he occasionally overindulged, using alcohol to numb the pressures of his demanding life.

Some of Edoardo’s closest friends have tried to reach out, offering support when they noticed he was particularly stressed or down. However, Edoardo’s tendency to deflect and change the subject made it difficult for them to help. He appreciated their concern but was reluctant to burden others with his problems, believing he should have handle things on his own. Federico was one of the few people Edoardo truly allowed to see his more vulnerable side. Despite his tendency to mask his struggles, Federico had a natural warmth and empathy that made it easier for Edoardo to open up. Their close friendship gave Edoardo a sense of stability and comfort.

The turning point came during Edoardo’s second year of university. He was preparing for a major fashion show, one that could make or break his career. As the event approached, the pressure intensified, and Edoardo’s substance use increased. The night before the show, he had stayed up for nearly 48 hours straight, fueled by a combination of stimulants and alcohol. Exhausted and on edge, he arrived at the venue only to find that his work was not up to his usual standards. The show was a disaster.

The failure hit Edoardo hard. He was devastated not just by the poor reception of his work, but by the realization that his addiction was impacting his performance and well-being. For the first time, he saw the stark reality of his situation—the bright future he had envisioned was being clouded by his addiction. He knew he had to make a change.

Recognizing that he couldn’t overcome this alone, Edoardo reached out for help. The first step was admitting his struggle to his closest friends. He confided in Federico, who had always been a supportive friend. Federico was deeply concerned but also understanding, encouraging him to seek professional help and offered to support him through the process.

During his recovery, Edoardo made significant lifestyle changes. He established a daily routine that prioritized his health—regular exercise, balanced meals, and sufficient sleep became non-negotiable aspects of his life. He also found solace in painting and sketching, using these activities as a therapeutic outlet. Federico and his friends remained by his side, they celebrated his small victories and were there for him during the tough times. Edoardo slowly regained his confidence and composure. The experience of overcoming his addiction gave him a unique perspective on his work, infusing it with authenticity and depth.

Family background

Edoardo’s family is characterized by a supportive and loving network. His relationships with his parents and siblings are marked by mutual respect and deep bonds. Each family member plays a unique role in his life, contributing to his personal growth and providing essential support during his journey through addiction and recovery. Family gatherings and holidays are cherished moments where they reconnect and support each other.

Orlando, father (architect specializing in eco-friendly urban design, 57) — he is reserved but deeply supportive. He is supportive and proud of Edoardo’s achievements, though he initially struggled to understand his son’s passion for fashion. Over time, the respect for Edoardo’s dedication and talent deepened, and their bond strengthened.

Grazia, mother (art historian and curator, 55) — she is empathetic and nurturing, offering crucial support through Edoardo’s struggles. Her understanding of the art world helps her provide both emotional and practical support.

Livia, older sister (public relations manager for a fashion house, 28) — Livia always been a supportive sister, she is in fact a close confidant and provides practical advice and emotional support. Her career in fashion makes her especially understanding of Edoardo’s struggles and ambitions

Guglielmo, younger brother (biomedical engineering student, 22) — he admires Edoardo and often seeks his guidance. Their relationship is supportive and encouraging, with Guglielmo looking up to his brother as a role model. He was deeply affected by Edoardo’s struggles but remains a source of motivation and positivity

Friendships

These friendships showcase the variety of connections Edoardo has in Milan, from creative collaborators to long-time friends. Each relationship plays a significant role in his life, providing support, inspiration, and companionship.

Zeno — they met during their first year at university in Milan. They bonded over their shared love for fashion and design, and Zeno quickly became one of Edoardo’s closest friends. They often collaborated on projects and attended fashion shows together, sharing their experiences and providing support

Alessandra — they were childhood friends who reconnected in Milan. They both ended up at the same university, and their deep-rooted friendship from their school days helped them quickly settle into life in the city. She is a reliable and empathetic friend who often serves as a sounding board for Edoardo’s personal and academic struggles

Marta — they met during a group project in their second year at university. Their teamwork and shared vision for their project helped them develop a strong bond. Marta’s analytical and detail-oriented approach complements Edoardo’s creative mindset. They often collaborate on academic and personal projects, leveraging each other’s strengths.

Riccardo (Bang Chan) — they met at a music and art collaboration event at their university. Riccardo, studying music production, was looking for someone to help design costumes for a student project, and Edoardo volunteered. They quickly became close friends, with Riccardo acting as a supportive and understanding presence in Edoardo’s life. Riccardo’s calm demeanor helps Edoardo stay grounded when university life becomes overwhelming

Federico (Felix) — Edoardo met Federico during an elective photography course. They were paired up for a project, and their creative visions aligned perfectly. Federico, who also dabbled in modeling, appreciated Edoardo’s fashion sense and requested his help with styling. Federico’s cheerful personality brings light to Edoardo’s life.

Leonardo (Lee Know) — they met thanks to their professional collaboration in a major fashion and performing arts event in Milan. They began collaborating on dance performances, with Edoardo designing costumes for Leonardo’s shows. Their friendship is built on mutual respect for each other’s talents. Leonardo admires Edoardo’s fashion design skills, while Edoardo appreciates Leonardo’s dedication to dance.

Cesare (Changbin) — they first met at a university networking event in Milan aimed at fostering collaboration between business and design students. The event was organized to encourage cross-disciplinary projects, and both Cesare and Edoardo were drawn to a panel discussion about the intersection of fashion and entrepreneurship. Their friendship is strong, built on mutual respect, shared ambitions, and the ability to learn from each other’s strengths.

Giulio (Han) — they met during a literature seminar in Milan. Although Giulio was a literature student and Edoardo focused on fashion design, they both attended a university seminar on the influence of literature on modern art and design. Giulio and Edoardo share a deep intellectual bond. They enjoy discussing how literature can influence visual arts, with Giulio often recommending books that inspire Edoardo’s designs.

Vittorio (Seungmin) — Edoardo met Vittorio through Giulio. When Giulio and Vittorio decided to collaborate on a project that combined literature and cinema, Giulio introduced Edoardo to Vittorio as a potential costume designer for their project. The three of them worked together on a short film adaptation of a literary piece. They share a mutual respect for each other’s craft and often brainstorm ways to blend fashion, film, and literature into unique projects.

Valerio (I.N) — Edoardo met Valerio during one of his visits to Turin. Giulio and Vittorio invited Edoardo to Turin for a film screening, where he was introduced to Valerio. Edoardo immediately connected with Valerio over their shared passion for the arts. Valerio and Edoardo have a friendship built on mutual admiration for creativity. Valerio looks up to Edoardo as a stylish and confident role model, while Edoardo appreciates Valerio’s fresh perspective and technical skills in sound design.

Neighborhoods

Brera, Milan — is a chic and artistic district in Milan, known for its vibrant cultural scene and historical charm. It's home to art galleries, the Pinacoteca di Brera, and stylish boutiques. The lively atmosphere and artistic vibe of Brera align well with his interests in fashion.

Santo Spirito, Florence — is a lively and bohemian neighborhood in Florence, known for its artistic heritage and vibrant street life. It's situated on the Oltrarno side of the Arno River and is famous for its Renaissance architecture and local artisan workshops.

Favorite Italian artists

Gazzelle — offers a unique take on pop and indie music. Gazzelle’s introspective and emotive lyrics, paired with his unique pop sound, resonate with Edoardo’s artistic sensibilities

Coez — Coez’s fusion of rap and catchy pop melodies offers a refreshing and relatable sound that Edoardo appreciate. His favorite Song is “Faccio un casino”

Negramaro — a band with a distinctive sound blending rock and pop. Known for their distinctive blend of this two genres, Negramaro’s dynamic sound and heartfelt lyrics connect with Edoardo’s taste for powerful and engaging music

Levante — a singer-songwriter known for her poetic lyrics and modern pop. Her sound appeal to Edoardo’s appreciation for thoughtful and contemporary music.

Franco Battiato — an experimental artist with a broad range of influences. Battiato’s experimental and eclectic approach to music attract Edoardo’s interest in diverse and unconventional artistic expression. His favorite song is “Cerco un centro di gravità permanente”

Rino Gaetano — known for his satirical and socially aware songs. Gaetano’s satirical and socially aware lyrics offer a unique perspective that resonate with Edoardo’s appreciation for insightful and critical music.

Favorite dishes

Arancini — sicilian rice balls filled with a variety of ingredients such as ragù, peas, and cheese, then breaded and fried.

Cacciucco — a hearty Tuscan seafood stew made with various types of fish and shellfish, tomatoes, and red wine.

Lasagna — layered pasta dish with meat sauce, béchamel, and cheese.

Pici Cacio e Pepe — a traditional Tuscan pasta made with thick, hand-rolled spaghetti-like pasta, cheese, and black pepper.

Panzanella — a Tuscan bread salad made with stale bread, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, and a vinaigrette dressing.

Favorite movies

Cinema Paradiso (1988) — directed by Giuseppe Tornatore, it narrate a heartwarming story about a young boy’s love for movies and his friendship with a local cinema projectionist.

La Grande Bellezza (2013) — directed by Paolo Sorrentino, this film explores the life of an aging writer and the beauty and decadence of modern Rome.

Il Gattopardo (1963) — directed by Luchino Visconti, this classic film provides a rich portrayal of Italian aristocracy and fashion in the 19th century.

Il Casanova di Federico Fellini (1973) — a visually opulent film that delves into the life of the famous Venetian libertine, showcasing intricate period costumes and set designs

Gomorrah (2008) — directed by Matteo Garrone, this gritty drama offers a realistic look at the Naples underworld and the impact of organized crime on its community.

Favorite writers

Italo Calvino, “Invisible Cities” — known for his imaginative and poetic prose, Calvino’s work often explores themes of imagination and aesthetics.

Umberto Eco, “The Name of the Rose” — Eco’s blend of historical fiction and semiotics appeal Edoardo, interested in the deeper meanings behind art and design.

Dacia Maraini, “The Silent Duchess” — Maraini’s focus on women’s experiences and societal roles, being an inspiring example for his fashion studies.

Machiavelli, “The Prince” — Machiavelli’s work on political theory and strategy remains influential in understanding political philosophy and power.

Favorite seaside spots

Polignano a Mare (Puglia) — famous for its dramatic cliffs and crystal-clear waters, this coastal town offers a more serene experience compared to the popular beaches in Puglia.

Tropea (Calabria) — known for its stunning cliffs and crystal-clear waters, Tropea provides a quieter and more authentic coastal experience compared to other Calabrian beaches.

Santa Teresa Gallura (Sardinia) — located in northern Sardinia, this town offers beautiful, less-crowded beaches and a laid-back vibe, ideal for those seeking a more relaxed seaside getaway

Sestri Levante (Liguria) — about 2 hours from Milan, this coastal town features the charming “Baia del Silenzio” (Bay of Silence), known for its scenic beauty and tranquil atmosphere

Most used slang words

Tanto di cappello — means “hats off,” used to show respect or admiration

Accattone — refers to a person who begs or is always looking for handouts

Troiaio — is a Tuscan slang term that is used primarily to describe a state of disorganization or messiness

Manco per niente — used to say “not at all,” often to emphasize the absence of something

Delafia — literally means “damn” and “holy shit”. It is mainly used to emphasize that one thing is really like that (Delafia if it's beautiful!)

Most used slurs

Cazzo — literally means “dick”or "penis." It's commonly used as a swear word to express frustration, anger, or surprise. Its usage can range from a strong expletive in heated situations to a casual exclamation.

Stronzo — is a derogatory term meaning “asshole” or “jerk.” It’s used to describe someone who is perceived as unpleasant, rude, or inconsiderate.

Gran cazzata — is an Italian slang expression that translates to “big bullshit” or “total nonsense”. Is used to describe something that is considered completely false, absurd, or ridiculous.

Bischero — means foolish or silly; used playfully among friends (Tuscany slang)

Representatives phrases

La moda è un’espressione di chi siamo [fashion is an expression of who we are] reason: reflects his passion for fashion design.

Non smettere mai di sognare [never stop dreaming] reason: represents his perseverance and creative spirit.

L’arte è la mia fuga dalla realtà [art is my escape from reality] reason: highlights his use of art as a personal escape and source of inspiration

Favorite idioms

Meglio un giorno da leoni che cento da pecore [better one day as a lion than a hundred as a sheep] reflects a bold, fearless attitude towards pursuing his passions and standing out in the fashion world

Non è tutto oro quel che luccica [not everything that glitters is gold] highlights the importance of looking beyond appearances, particularly relevant in the fashion industry.

Non ci piove [It doesn’t rain on it] used to express certainty or something that is obvious, such as “it’s given” in English

[vmygdvlv]

Stray Kids AU (italian boy version) ;

Lee Know as Leonardo Caruso

Leonardo came from a Sicilian family, Caruso surname basically gives it out, but he moved around considerably due to his parents jobs and making him growing up around different cities: late childhood in Florence, high school in Rome and University’s life in Milan.

Even if he never lived the Sicilian lifestyle and customs, he proudly says he is. He also deeply loved the food and culture. He doesn’t know Sicilian unfortunately but at lest he was fluent in different languages (Italian aside) such as English, French and Spanish. He knows some Germans basics, but he’s not able yet to hold long conversations.

Leonardo was born into a loving family that celebrated creativity and passion. His father, Giovanni, was an architect who admired precision, yet harbored a secret love for theater. His mother, Maria, was a marketing manager with a deep appreciation for literature and the performing arts. Together, they nurtured Leonardo’s talents from an early age, recognizing the spark in him that longed to create and express.

As a child, Leonardo was constantly moving to music. He loved the way dance allowed him to express emotions that words could not capture. His parents, recognizing his passion, enrolled him in dance classes, where he thrived. Dance became a vital part of his life, not just as a hobby, but as a form of self-expression. However, when it came time to choose a field of study, Leonardo didn’t pursue dance professionally.

Instead, he chose to study Performing Arts Management, a field where he could combine his love for the arts with his natural talent for organization and leadership. Thanks to his family economic status, he was able to enroll at the Università Bocconi. Even if the school had a residence located right on campus, he decided to rent a rather cheaper place since the university’s regulations, obviously, would not allow animals inside and he wanted to bring with him his cat (Bella) and his little parrot (Gino).

There was also some times where the dream of becoming a professional dancer/choreographer would come up in conversations, but since it was not a well-supported field in Italy he decided to pick a more solid path while enjoying dance’s classes and teaching it to kids as a part-time job. This decision helped him creating choreographies for shows and events around the country, giving him the possibility to know more while coordinating both studies. His parents supported this decision wholeheartedly, understanding that it was a path that allowed him to blend his passion with practicality.

Leonardo’s time in Milan wasn’t without its challenges. The competitive nature of his field sometimes led to intense stress, and his perfectionist tendencies made it difficult for him to accept anything less than excellence. Leonardo’s perfectionism wasn’t his only burden. His fear of failure, of not living up to the high standards he set for himself, created a constant state of anxiety. He became obsessed with his work, unable to detach from it even when he knew he needed to. His mind was always racing, always thinking about the next project, the next goal. He pushed himself to the brink, ignoring the toll it was taking on his mental and physical health.

However, unlike those who might have crumbled under such pressure, Leonardo’s drive was tempered by the unconditional support of his family and friends. His father often reminded him of the importance of balance “It’s the imperfections that make something truly beautiful.” While his mother encouraged him to stay true to his passions. “Art is about expression, Leo. Don’t lose yourself in the pursuit of success.” This foundation of love and support kept Leonardo grounded. He learned to balance his high expectations with self-compassion, realizing that mistakes were not failures, but opportunities to learn and grow.

His life in Milan was filled with both work and play. By day, he attended classes, managed events, and collaborated on projects. By night, he would often find himself in a dance studio, lost in the music, or out exploring the city’s vibrant arts scene with his friends. The balance between his studies and his love for dance made him a well-rounded individual, respected by both his peers and his professors.

He might be seen as energetic, charismatic, and driven, with a strong sense of discipline and creativity. His personality would reflect a blend of confidence and approachability [when he wanted] combined with a passion for his interests such as dance, football (he is an AC Milan supporter) and museums. On the other hand he was impulsive, potentially causing issues in some situations, impatient, with high expectations and a tendency to have conflict avoidance.

Through it all, Leonardo remained a paradox—a man of incredible strength and fragile insecurity. He was a loyal friend, always there for those he cared about, yet he struggled to let others be there for him. He was creative and innovative, yet trapped by his own need for control. And while he pursued beauty in all things, he often overlooked the beauty within himself.

Even if he came out as an introvert, he actually loved social interactions, especially if he could’ve communicate with people who had a similar interest. Plus drinking was a common part of Italian social life, so he did likely partake in it. When he was younger this thing helped him a lot in social settings, making him feel more comfortable and confident. Now he just enjoyed being there and have a nice glass, maybe two or three, of Chianti (red wine) or Negroni (cocktail).

He was also a social smokers. Didn’t have an addiction since he was a really health-conscious and has active lifestyle, but he smoked during night out or in social gatherings. Normally the pack of Camel Blu he bought on Friday lasted seven days. He stoled the first cigarette from his father.

Leonardo, also, got frustration with inefficiencies like bureaucracy, the chaos of traffic, that’s why he decided to have a motorbike instead of a car, relaxed attitudes toward time since he gets annoyed by people being late or plans not starting on time; gossip culture finding it intrusive and unnecessary and overly traditional mindsets. These aspects clash with his desire for structure, privacy, and progressiveness.

Family background

He has a supportive relationship with his parents, who encourage his interests and career aspirations. He has a strong bond with both his older brother and younger sister. They share common interests in art, design, and fashion, and often collaborate on creative projects.

Giovanni “Gianni”, father (architect, 60) supportive and disciplined, with a strong emphasis on education and professional success. He has a passion for art and design.

Maria, mother (marketing manager, 55) – warm and encouraging, with a strong influence on Leonardo’s cultural and academic interests. She enjoys cooking

Luigi, older brother (graphic designer, 30) – creative and outgoing, with a passion for music and the arts. He is close to his younger brother and often shares his interests in fashion and trends.

Rosa, younger sister (fashion design student, 22) – studying fashion design in Milan, she looks up to Leonardo and shares his enthusiasm for artistic and creative pursuits. Energetic and fashion-conscious

Friendship

His social life would revolve around close relationships and local traditions. Also his friends are the ones made along the way, having a tight-knit group of people from school and cultural events.

Francesco – an old friend from high school in Rome, they bonded over sports and have maintained a close relationship.

Sofia – his sister’s friend, who shares interests in design and fashion. They became friends through family gatherings and shared activities.

Elena – a university classmate in Milan who shares his interest in performing arts. They met through academic projects and social events

Cesare (Chagbin) – they met in Milan through a mutual friend, connecting over coffee to discuss a potential collaboration. The friend knew Leonardo was interested in organizing dance events and thought Cesare could help with the business side, given his expertise in finance and management. Their shared ambitions quickly deepened their relationship, with Leonardo’s creativity and Cesare’s business acumen complementing each other perfectly. Over time, their professional connection blossomed into a strong, supportive bond, with both relying on each other for advice, motivation, and friendship.

Riccardo (Bang Chan) – they met at a dance workshop in Milan. Carlo was attending to improve his rhythm for music production, while Leonardo was refining his choreography skills. They connected over their shared dedication to mastering their craft. Their mutual respect for each other’s dedication led to a lasting friendship, with Riccardo often offering guidance and support as Leonardo navigated his studies and creative pursuits.

Edoardo (Hyunjin) – they met thanks to their professional collaboration in a major fashion and performing arts event in Milan. They began collaborating on dance performances, with Edoardo designing costumes for Leonardo’s shows. Their friendship is built on mutual respect for each other’s talents. Leonardo admires Edoardo’s fashion design skills, while Edoardo appreciates Leonardo’s dedication to dance.

Federico (Felix) – Leonardo met Federico through Cesare. Cesare and Federico were childhood friends from Naples, and when Leonardo and Cesare became close during their time in Milan, Cesare introduced Federico to Leonardo. Federico’s warm and friendly nature quickly led to a strong bond between them. Despite their different fields of study, their shared love for creativity and the arts solidified their friendship

Giulio (Han) – they met at a university event in Milan where they both attended a literary discussion panel. Giulio was studying literature and Leonardo was intrigued by his insights. They struck up a conversation, discovering a mutual interest in storytelling and the arts. Their shared passions and intellectual curiosity led to a close friendship

Vittorio (Seungmin) – met at a theater production in Rome. Lee Know was assisting with choreography, and Seungmin was part of the musical ensemble. They connected over their love for performing arts. They discovered a shared enthusiasm for storytelling and visual arts, which led to a strong connection. Their friendship grew as they collaborated on various artistic projects and supported each other’s academic and creative pursuits.

Valerio (Jeongin) – met during a collaborative project between Milan and Turin’s universities. Leonardo, studying performing arts management, was tasked with organizing a multimedia performance event, while Valerio, a sound engineering student, was responsible for the sound design. Their friendship is characterized by a dynamic where Leonardo plays a somewhat protective and advisory role, while Valerio brings fresh ideas and energy to their interactions

Neighborhoods

Milan – Isola District, a trendy and up-and-coming neighborhood with a mix of modern and industrial charm

Rome – Testaccio, known for its authentic Roman atmosphere, food scene, and a more local, laid-back vibe

Florence – Santo Spirito, a charming and bohemian neighborhood with a strong local vibe and artistic flair, with plenty of bares and cafes

Favorite Italian artists

Tedua – his lyrical depth, unique flow, and ability to blend trap with introspective themes would resonate with his appreciation for artistry and emotional storytelling. His innovative style aligns with Leonardo’s love for both modern and classic influences.

Marracash – appreciated for his depth and socially conscious lyrics. He loves his lyrical depth, versatile sound, emotional expression and cultural significance. Marracash’s music offers the kind of artistic and meaningful content that Leonardo value. Songs such as Crudelia, Madame and Bravi a Cadere are some of the first songs he added to his playlist

Lazza – his technical skill as a rapper and his classical piano background would intrigue Leonardo, who appreciates both precision and creativity. Lazza’s versatility in both hardcore rap and more melodic tracks would align with Leo’s eclectic tastes.

Adriano Celentano – one of the most important singers of Italian pop music. In the beginning of his career, he was heavily influenced by Elvis Presley and other American musicians.

Lucio Battisti – widely recognized for songs that defined the late 1960s and 1970s era, considered a progressive artist, though his original approach to the music was highly influential for many later performers

Favorite dishes

Pasta alla norma, sicilian classic made with fried eggplants and ricotta salata

Pizza alla diavola, spicy and flavored

Cannoli, a sweet and crunchy sicilian dessert

Osso buco, milanese specialty, consisting of braised veal shanks cooked with vegetables, white wine and broth

Caprese salad, a light and refreshing dish with fresh tomatoes, mozzarella, basil, and a drizzle of olive oil

Pasta alla carbonara, a satisfying rich and creamy roma’s pasta dish, made with eggs, cheese, guanciale, and pepper

Favorite movies

La Vita è Bella (1997) by Roberto Benigni: a heartwarming and tragic story set against the backdrop of World War II

8½ (1963) by Federico Fellini: a surreal ad introspective film about the struggles of a filmmaker

The Best of Youth (2003) by Marco Tullio Giordana: an epic tale spanning decades, exploring family and personal growth

Favorite writers

He would likely be drawn to writers who explore themes of identity, independence, relationships, and the human condition

Luigi Pirandello – “Uno, Nessuno e Centomila”, the first book he read and one of his all time favorite, narrates Pirandello’s exploration of identity and the masks people wear. It resonate with Leonardo’s reflective side, as he values self-awareness.

Alessandro Baricco – “Seta”, his personal favorite, represents the poetic and evocative style of Baricco’s storytelling. This book appeals him, who appreciates beauty and subtlety in art.

Giovanni Verga – “I Malavoglia”, Verga’s realistic portrayal of rural life and the struggles of a Sicilian family definitely interest him, who has a deep appreciation for stories about resilience and family ties.

Favorites seaside spots

Caprera – located on the northeastern coast of Sardinia, Caprera Island is known for its pristine landscapes, historical significance, and outdoor adventures

Taormina – located in Sicily, perched on a rocky cliff above the Ionian Sea, Taormina is a charming beach town known for its beautifully restored mediaeval buildings

Bari – features a charming old town and a lovely coastal promenade

Most used slang words

Figo – similar to “cool” or “handsome,” often used to compliment someone’s appearance or style

Sbroccare – means to “freak out” or “lose it,” reflecting his passionate nature

Che tamarro – someone with flashy, tacky taste

Gufare – to jinx something or bring bad luck.

Sgasare – to accelerate quickly (usually with a car or motorbike).

Most used slurs

Cazzone – term meaning “big idiot,” used to describe someone who is perceived as quite foolish

Imbecille – means “imbecile,” used to express that someone is not very smart

Merda – literally means “shit,” used to express frustration or anger

Testa di cazzo – meaning “dickhead” (very strong, derogatory term)

Vaffanculo – a strong expression meaning “fuck off” or “go to hell,” often used when someone is extremely irritated

Representatives phrases

Essere se stessi è il vero successo [ being oneself is true success ] reason: emphasizes authenticity

Il tempo vola quando ci si diverte [ time flies when you’re having fun ] reason: reflects his enjoyment of life and creativity

La bellezza è negli occhi di chi guarda [ beauty is in the eye of the beholder ] reason: highlights his appreciation for diverse perspectives.

Favorite idioms

L’abito non fa il monaco [ the habit doesn’t make the monk ] meaning: appearances can be deceiving

Prendere due piccioni con una fava [ to catch two pigeons with one bean ] meaning: to achieve two goals with one action

Essere al settimo cielo [ to be in the seventh heaven ] meaning: to be extremely happy