The first sound was crying.
Loud.
Raw.
The kind of cry that fills a room the moment a life begins.
A newborn baby rested in the trembling arms of his mother. His tiny hands opened and closed instinctively, his face red as he cried into the bright hospital light.
His mother looked exhausted, but her eyes were fixed on him with a strange mixture of disbelief and tenderness.
Beside the bed stood his father.
He leaned closer, studying the baby's face carefully, like he was trying to memorize every detail.
Then he smiled.
"Well," he said softly, almost proudly, "he's a really beautiful baby."
The baby continued crying, his voice small but determined, announcing his existence to the world.
—
The memory shifted.
Time moved forward.
Now the house was quiet.
A small living room filled with the warm light of late afternoon.
On the couch sat a tiny boy.
Cri was only three years old.
His hair was long for a child his age—soft, slightly messy, and a light blond color that fell around his round cheeks. His body was chubby in the way toddlers often are, his legs dangling slightly as he sat alone on the couch.
He looked small in the big space.
Almost swallowed by the cushions.
Then the door opened.
Heavy footsteps entered the room.
A tall figure walked in and dropped onto the couch beside him.
The boy was older.
Much older.
Thirteen years old.
He had a strong build already—broad shoulders for his age, the beginnings of muscle in his arms. His hair was styled in a medium mullet, messy but confident, and his eyes were bright blue and wide with energy.
He leaned back into the couch dramatically.
Then he looked down at the small child beside him.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
He reached out and started playing with the little boy's long blond hair, gently twisting a lock between his fingers.
"You know," he said casually, "for a three-year-old…"
He poked the child's belly lightly.
"…you're a pretty chubby kid."
Little Cri burst into laughter.
Not polite laughter.
The loud, uncontrollable laughter that only very young children have, where their entire body shakes with the sound.
The older boy laughed too.
For a moment they just sat there together.
Then the older boy sighed and leaned his head back against the couch.
"Mom was really mean today," he muttered.
His voice lost some of its playful tone.
"She yelled again."
He looked down at the small child next to him.
The toddler didn't fully understand the words, but he watched his brother with the quiet curiosity of a child who feels emotions even when he can't name them.
The older boy suddenly scooped him up in his arms.
"Hey."
He lifted the little boy easily, holding him in front of him.
"When I become a dad," he said with dramatic determination, "I'm gonna let my kids do whatever they want."
Little Cri blinked at him.
"I won't yell."
He bounced the child lightly in his arms.
"I won't get angry over stupid things."
The boy's tone softened slightly.
"I'll just… let them be kids."
The toddler stared at him quietly.
Then his mouth opened.
And in a tiny voice, he said:
"Cristian."
For a moment the room froze.
The older boy blinked.
Then his eyes widened.
"WAIT—"
He jumped up from the couch, still holding the toddler.
"HE SAID MY NAME!"
His voice exploded with excitement.
"He said Cristian!"
He quickly placed the small child back onto the couch and ran toward the hallway.
"MOM! DAD!" he shouted loudly. "CRI SAID MY NAME!"
From somewhere deeper in the house, their mother's voice answered sharply.
"Stop yelling!"
The tone was annoyed.
Harsh.
Cristian's excitement dimmed slightly, but only for a second.
"Okay, whatever," he muttered, waving it off.
He returned to the couch and crouched in front of the toddler again.
"Alright," he said, pointing at himself proudly.
"Now repeat after me."
He puffed out his chest dramatically.
"FRATELLONE!"
The toddler blinked.
Then smiled.
"Cristian."
Cristian tried again.
"Fratellone!"
The toddler giggled.
"Cristian."
Cristian laughed helplessly.
"No, no— listen."
He pointed to himself again.
"Fra-tel-lo-ne."
The toddler looked at him with total confidence.
"…Cristian."
Cristian leaned back against the couch and laughed loudly.
"Okay," he admitted.
"I'll take that."