Chapter Text
I love life, and everything about it. Mostly. Sometimes things can be a bit shitty, but hey, you gotta do what you gotta do, right? It’s as simple as that! And as long as there’s plenty of women, who can complain?
Vergil would…He never gave a damn about women, only books, always those stupid books.
Damn it, now I’m on about him again! It’s only the alcohol speaking though, so what does it really matter? Booze sure is amazing in that way, so fucking liberating! Hahaha, there’s always one excuse or another to get drunk, always!
Vergil would disagree though. He’d probably spout some shit about how alcohol dulls your senses, making you more apt to become an easy target or something like that. That’s what he always went on about when we were younger, when he didn’t want me to drink.
Man, I must’ve been such a bother at times. Then again so was he, a real pain in the ass, a royal bastard! That’s what he is… or was, at least.
Vergil, he is… I wish he would have been more open. His determination to always make it on his own was amazing, but… it was his downfall. But I could never stick to anything like he did though, never. We might both have been stubborn, but in different ways.
Always different…
Everything was always such a struggle with him! Actually, I should be glad to be rid of him!
Still, sometimes, I can’t help but wonder if things could’ve been different. I wonder if I could have done something to prevent it; his death. Aargh, who am I kidding, everything went to hell already back when that jerk decided to fall. Fall down to Hell. So really, it’s Vergil’s own goddamn fault he’s dead! So stubborn! A perfectionist to a fault that’s what he is! Was…
I hate his guts, I really do! But I never wished him dead, never wished to be the one to kill him… He’d hate me for that, if he was alive. But I guess that’s kinda paradoxical to say. It’s worst by far though, the fact that he had to die by my hand… I feel guilty even though I shouldn’t…or should I?
If he just wouldn’t have become so megalomaniac…
I wonder when it was he flipped out.
Maybe it was the moment mum died, at last that’s when his hatred for humans grew tremendously. That’s when he got so…difficult. Training, reading, training, reading, training, reading…that was his life. No wonder I turned to alcohol at times, there was not much else to do if I wanted some entertainment. Vergil just wouldn’t do anything else than strive after more and more power, and if he ever did anything else he didn’t have time for me at least.
He used to though, when we were small, when our parents were still around. Sure, he’d still read a lot and train, in a sense he was a miniature copy of himself already then, but, he’d have time to play with me, too. If not I used to annoy him until he did. Always worked, always! He used to be all grumpy about it first, but he’d be smiling and having fun in no time. Not that he’d ever admit it, not even as a kid, but he couldn’t hide it from me. We are twins, after all. We were…
To think there was a time when Vergil knew how to smile out of reasons other than spite. It’s quite unbelievable to think of really. Then again, before he went all manic and power crazed Vergil used to discuss his findings with me, enthusiastically telling me about all the books he read and what they said, and when he did his eyes always used to glow with a passion that’s hard to describe. Sometimes I can still see that avid flare before me if I really try.
I wish I had listened better, but at the time I was uninterested, keener to go outdoors and explore the surrounding woods than listen to Vergil’s stories about demons and what not, just like any normal child. I still regret it though.
When mum died it all stopped, he locked himself away from the world, and from me. The flare in his eyes, it also died. I never saw it again. It was replaced by something colder. It was as if his eyes had been glazed with a transparent shield which allowed his expression to remain unchanged and rendered his eyes unreadable. That’s when we stopped getting along.
I still have a bunch of Vergil’s old books, which he collected throughout the years and a couple of demonic artefacts too. They look pretty amazing but I can hardly guess what it all was meant to be used for, and most of the books are written in languages I can’t even read. My best guess is that power, in some sense, can be attained from all of this crap, but power doesn’t really interest me, not in the way it enchanted my brother.
I just keep his stuff because… why was it again? Who cares anyway? Maybe I should just throw it all away? I have no use for the books and surely no one would miss them…but they sure must have been important to him though, because Vergil has scribbled notes all over the pages. I can’t really understand them either, not most of them at least. There are a few that I can interpret but they’re really of no use to me.
It never quite struck me actually how intelligent my brother was and how much he must have struggled and fought to gain all of his knowledge. In a sense his willpower was quite admirable. If his hatred for humans hadn’t been so deep I might even have looked up to him as an older brother, I might even have learnt a thing or two… But his abhorrence of humanity ruined it all!
I just don’t understand it, his resentment towards humans, and his own humanity nonetheless. I never found it a weakness; as a matter of fact it feels like the human blood running through my body makes my life a lot more fun, so why isn’t this applicable to him? Sure, humans are not as strong and though as demons, but they have many other and good qualities. Our mum for one managed to soften dad’s heart, pulling out the good in him.
In the end, what is really the difference between humans and demons? Both mum and dad disappeared, and sometimes I wonder if Vergil has not forgotten this… They both died… So why does Vergil feel this inexplicable hatred towards humans, and only humans? Why don’t I? We were raised under the same circumstances and experienced the same things, the only difference being that he was a tad older… I just don’t understand…
Why did Vergil let himself become overcome by hate?
Why did I let hate overrun Vergil?
Maybe I’ll hang on to his stuff just a while longer… just because…
Ugh… My head hurts from all the thinking…
I shouldn’t drink this much, I get way too sentimental…
…
Sometimes it still feels unreal that he’s gone…