Summary: He was alone for a long time, even after he met Knuckle. But, there was one person that stayed with him, no matter what. Cavallone Primo/Alaude. Written for Alaude's Birthday.

Thank you for reading!

Back then, it was clear. I was independent. I was myself, whole and no one else. I relied on no one, for that was what I was brought up to be. I was... strong. Back then, I stole and for reasons that I cannot say anymore, but it was a good intention and I meant good. It didn't work, and they died, and I was released into a foster home.

The days in that foster home were unbearably dim. Nothing to do, no one to talk to. Although I wasn't the most intelligent back then, I couldn't speak their language. My parents had fled into a land of fluid Italian, a place where we couldn't even understand what they tried to say. I would say that they were foolish, that they had no common sense, but I knew why they had made the rash decision.

The revolution. A name to make me spit and sneer. It was a name that I detested, because if it hadn't been for it, I would still be in France. I'd still be in Lyon. But it was that damn revolution that my parents wanted to escape because they wanted no part of it.

What a horrible, horrible choice that had been.

A small light of hope had appeared when I had been adopted, taken to a place called Venice. It was hard for me to adjust, if only because I did not speak the language, but I learned fast enough. I met a boy there, one named Knuckle. He was a strange kid, always talking about being a boxer, and although we didn't know each other well, I found myself drawn to him. He was energetic and bright and outspoken, the exact opposite of who I was. We were an odd pair, and I tried not to rely on him but... it happened. We became... friends. He was my first and only friend, and that stuck with me for a long time.

I left town at eighteen. I could see that the girls had their eyes on me, and I couldn't imagine being tied down to one area. I left for France, to start my own agency, and I told no one.

Those years by myself were some of the loneliest that I had ever faced. I came to a realization that after meeting Knuckle, I had grown used to accompaniment. It was a sudden, startling realization, that I had become someone who relied on people, and I shut that down quickly. In the world that I had entered, relying on someone was death. I could not afford to do anything like that ever again, and I kept those thoughts locked in a corner...

Until that fateful encounter with Giotto. My agency was becoming renowned over the mediterranean, and he came with an offer. To refuse, it meant death to a part of me that was so important, so - …

- … "Angelo," a voice called next to his ear.

He stood up, startled, and fully woken from his thoughts. He glanced around and saw the offender- the Cavallone Don, le cheval. He wasn't a bad person to be around, on the contrary, they saw each other often... as long as Alaude wasn't burying himself in paperwork or on a mission. But, even Niccolo could pull Alaude away from something so important.

"What do you want, Cavallone?" Alaude questioned with a frown.

Niccolo smiled and pulled a white box out from behind his back. He presented it to Alaude, and watched the smaller man open it. He was a bit anxious about how it would be received by him, but he knew Alaude to be someone who would appreciate anything from the black haired man.

"... A cake?" Alaude frowned. "Why did you bring me a cake?"

He laughed. Giotto had told him that Alaude didn't remember his own birthday, but he didn't think it was true. The don leaned over to give the blond a kiss on the cheek.

"Buon compleanno, il mio angelo," he spoke with a smile.

He watched as Alaude blinked owlishly, looking from his face, back down to the cake. He could almost see the gears clicking in his head as he made sure the points were correct. Niccolo stifled a laugh when a look of surprise filtered into Alaude's eyes, a light blush tinting over his face.

"... So it is," he mumbled quietly, placing the box down on a table and fingering his sleeve.

Niccolo snickered. "Somehow, I figured that you'd forget your birthday."

Alaude huffed. "It's not that important." He crossed his arms and looked away.

"Ah, but it's important to me," he corrected, showing a neatly wrapped box in front of Alaude. "For you."

Alaude opened it gently, unwrapping it with long, delicate fingers. He looked in the box and raised an eyebrow at the object. He picked it up and presented Niccolo with it.

"A key?" he questioned. Niccolo nodded in response, before gesturing the blond man to follow him. They reached a door that Alaude had seen before, but never went into, and Niccolo gestured for him to open it. Alaude placed the key into the lock and peeked into the room. Upon seeing nothing, he opened the door fully and slipped in. Niccolo followed.

Alaude blinked at the sight that awaited him. Inside,was a woven basket with a blanket over it. He peeked under it, and Niccolo smiled when he saw Alaude's face brighten.

"Bon anniversaire, mon ange," he spoke as he knelt down next to Alaude and buried him in kisses.