Avilio: A Short Story

They arrive in a small town as the sun rises to its peak in the summer sky, heat beating on their backs and sweat forming on their brows. Nero had long ditched his suit jacket to the back of the cart but Avilio had insistently kept to wearing his long coat, leading Nero to believe that the man had wanted a place to hide his weapons. Of all the people Nero has known in his life, Avilio was definitely one of the more cautionary men he had become acquainted to.
“I’m going to go buy food. Don’t get drunk.” Avilio’s voice is low and soft, barely audible over the strutting of the cart horse and Nero has to lean back to catch the words. He watches the other dismount the horse with an easy grace, being suddenly reminded of his younger brother. Growing up in the lap of luxury, Nero had never found

Nero is sure that in another life, Frate and Avilio would have been good friends.
“Aren’t you gonna help me with my wounds?”
Avilio glances back at him. “Any broken bones or internal bleeding?”
“Uh I don’t think so?”
“Then no.”
Nero groans and rolls onto his side, feeling the pain throb from the places he was hit. Something hits his leg and he looks down. A roll of bandages.
“In exchange, you can tell me why you got in a fight.” Avilio says without looking back, and Nero sits up to begin wrapping up his swollen hand.
“Made a move on another man’s pretty girl while I was drinking. He got mad.”
Avilio scoffs and mutters something under his breath that Nero doesn’t catch but he guesses it wasn’t anything nice. Just as they hit the outskirts of town, Nero suddenly remembers what was on his mind earlier.
“You didn’t buy any pineapple did you?” He says, eyeing the paper bag in the corner that looks suspiciously full of cans.
Avilio, from his spot on the horse,