Chapter Text
Vergil stepped into the tiny cafe around 6pm. It was empty save for someone at the counter. In other places, he noticed it would fill to the brim with patrons exhausted from work, or school, and desperately needing energy for the commute home. He despised being in such cramped, crowded places.
As he stepped inside, the single barista at the counter looked up, greeting him with a small smile. "Good evening, sir, how may I take your order?"
He had passed by the cafe a few times, as he had been stuck doing various errands for Nero and Kyrie. He had been tempted a few times to step inside, but was always low on time, especially with Nero sending incessant messages to his cell phone. The few glimpses he managed to get revealed that the establishment was not like any of the others. Whereas the coffee shops around him held more modern looks, this one retained a more classical feel, in line with some of the historical centers of Fortuna City.
"An Americano..." He paused. He had practiced his order more times than he wished to admit, hoping that the first time would be enough. The barista had scribbled the first part of his order, looking expectantly. "and a strawberry panna cotta."
"Of course, sir!" She tore off the slip and pinned it with where the other orders would go, and began to work on his order.
He turned on his heel and briskly made his way outside. He took a seat near one of the two outdoor tables, which held an incredible view of the rest of the city. Placing a black hardcover book on the table, he sat with fingers tented, waiting for his order.
The sun was beginning to set, and a chilly breeze came through, running through his hair like icy fingers. His shoulders fell slack, his furrowed brow coming undone, and let out a quiet sigh.
Dante had left him here in Fortuna, as he had gallivanted off somewhere. He told none of them where he was going, only that he would be back 'soon', whenever that was. That was several months ago.
Vergil had the desire to leave as well, but his body had been through so much, it would be impossible to go anywhere. From his decay, to his divide, to his reformation, and his defeat by both Dante and Nero, he had been through several lifetimes of damage. It was a relief he could even walk around as he had been. Although, getting to that point was another thing entirely.
Since their return from Hell, Vergil had been going from bed to bed, needing as much energy as possible. Most of his time in the human world was spent either sleeping, eating, or reading in bed. He had desperately wanted to get out much sooner, but that woman...
Nero's partner, Kyrie, she was a gentle soul, from what he could tell, and incredibly astute. Even as he tried to wave away his own injuries, she was firm enough to keep him from doing anything but recover. Every time he tried even going out for a walk on his own, she did not deny him, but was incredibly disappointed. Her gaze seemed to pinpoint every weak muscle, every creaky joint, and every dull pain he still felt. He was never more than a few steps outside before he gave up and returned to bed.
He remembered one day, as they were carrying some groceries home, he had offhandedly asked how he was able to deal with such a powerful presence.
Nero seemed to take it as more of an insult. turning to face him, jaw clenched. "The hell you mean by that?"
Vergil continued his pace past him. "I only ask how she is able to strike at one's spirit so...precisely."
That didn't seem to clarify anything to him, but Nero calmed down a bit, sprinting to catch up. "She's a good woman. She cares for everyone, even...even when they don't deserve it."
Vergil figured Nero meant him, but as he looked towards Nero, the other had stopped, averting his gaze. "She took care of someone like me even."
Though he would never admit it out loud, it fascinated him how their relationship worked. In some part in the depths of his mind, he wondered if there would be any place in their lives for him. Especially since there was nowhere else he could go, he had no home, or old haunting grounds to roam around in. He hadn't a place he could belong in such a long time.
In his haze of introspection, he was interrupted by the barista, who placed a mug of hot coffee and a little glass of panna cotta on his table.
"If there's anything else you need, don't hesitate to ask!" She smiled, though Vergil did not meet her gaze, he instead nodded to let her know he heard her.
Sliding the book to his right, he brought the mug closer, and stared into the frothy abyss of crema. It had an intense smell, just a simple inhale giving him a wave of strong earthy flavors. He pulled back, blowing on it gently before taking a sip.
This was exactly what he needed. Espresso by itself lacked something, that the water in the Americano seemed to unlock, there was no terribly sour taste, but it retained the caffeine kick.
Before deciding to come to the cafe, he had done whatever research he could on different types of teas and coffees. It was miles above the instant coffee Nero would try to make him occasionally. This was the genuine article.
After taking a few sips, he placed it back onto the saucer, his eyes moving towards the black hardcover book. He wasn't yet ready to crack it open, instead grazing his fingers over the spine, dipping it between the covers to feel the pages pressed together.
Leaving his tome to Nero seemed to be a good idea at the time, as he figured there would be no return, but after he had seen it placed haphazardly on the kitchen counter, a knife acting as its bookmark, it took all of his energy not to swipe it back.
Nero noticed Vergil's disdain immediately. He had stepped out from the bathroom, still brushing his teeth, stopping in his tracks. Vergil's knuckles were powder white, hands clasped tightly together as his tunnel vision was focused on the book alone.
"D'you want it back?" He garbled through the foam.
Vergil snapped out of his trance. "What?"
"I was supposed to hold onto it for ya, remember? You look pretty pissed, so you might as well take it back." Nero sprinted back to the bathroom, loudly spitting his toothpaste into the sink.
Vergil had to raise his voice above the running water, feebly masking his disgust. "You...may hold onto it for a while longer."
"Huh?" Nero gargled.
Vergil, visibly fuming, began again. "You may--"
"You sure? I mean..." A few more gross noises before he returned to the kitchen. "I'm halfway done with it, I can give it to ya when I finish."
He did indeed want his copy back, but this was another exercise in letting things go. Besides, as his father passed down Rebellion and Yamato, Vergil figured he should have something of his own to pass down to his descendants. Though he would rather die all over again than even remotely admit that. "You may relinquish it at my request...don't worry about it."
Nero tilted his head, but let it go.
A few days later, he had noticed Nero stumbling in the dark outside the guest room he had been residing. The door creaked open, a few heavy footsteps reached his bed, a thud on his night table, and then he must have sprinted out the rest of the way.
Once he figured Nero was out of sight, he turned to face the source of the sounds, and even in the darkness, he noticed whatever it was, it had a faint glow.
Vergil quickly sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.
It was a gift box, gleaming from its iridescence. It had a blue bow on the corner, and a tag with two names written. From: Kyrie and Nero. Nero's name had been scratched out a few times before it sat below Kyrie's name, a more elegant script.
He began to tremble, unsure if it was from mounting anxiety, or from using too much energy just to sit up. It fell from his grip onto his lap, and he let out an exasperated sigh. He slowly moved his hands, one holding the bottom of the box, as the other removed the box's lid.
There was a small slip of paper on top of a featureless, black hardcover book. Flipping the paper over it read:
Was Kyrie's idea.
Thought it was unfair for you to not have your own book.
Could make staying here less boring.
- N
He dipped the spoon into the panna cotta. Bring it to his lips, he tasted the strawberry first, it was surprisingly fresh, the cream beneath had hints of vanilla, it was sweet but organically so, and very light.
Vergil let out a sigh. He placed the glass and spoon down neatly.
His hands begun to shake again as he moved back to the hardcover book. He made room so that it had a spot before him. Gently, he cracked it open to a blank page. He wanted to go through it page by page, but he had an impulse, and instead turned hastily to a random page.
It read:
‘Father, father, where are you going?
O do not walk so fast!
Speak, father, speak to your little boy,
Or else I shall be lost.’
The night was dark, no father was there,
The child was wet with dew;
The mire was deep, and the child did weep,
And away the vapour flew.
He sat there, his breathing slowing down to almost nothing. The sun had disappeared behind taller buildings. The lights from the cafe began to turn on, soft yellow lights surrounding him. He knew it was getting late, and he could feel the phone's vibrations on his chest, as it was nestled in a coat pocket.
Unlike his wayward brother, he could not leave so easily. He realized there was so much left for him here.