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Funny how he always acts so closed off and distant to anyone else, but always as a guardian when she's near. Silently daring, threatening anyone who tries to hurt her.
It’s not that he thinks being best friends with the human is repulsive. Quite the contrary. He feels really blessed, as much as a half-demon could be deemed blessed, by this predicament he's found himself in.
I never feel like this
He was stubborn, but so was she.
He's (not) annoyed no matter how fortified he build his defenses, she'll always find a way to climb in, or destroy them. No matter how much he used to ignore her presence, to try and make her think that he doesn't care about her, and maybe make her leave him alone, she'd still try to hold little conversations, even if they're usually one-sided.
Seriously, how much bullshit can one handle?
"Vergil, the weather's nice today, isn't it?"
"You still haven't decided to leave Blake's works alone, huh?"
"Oh come on, how are you this graceful in battle!"
"You're... hair's always slicked back, but it still seems so soft..."
I’m used to emptiness in my heart
"Can I touch it?"
He nearly choked on his drink that early morning. He was caught up in waiting for the sun to rise, he didn't notice her come outside as well. How long had she been eyeing his hair? Does it really look soft? He never bothered to take notice.
But she did. She always does.
She's always the one that first greets him in the morning. She's always the one to ask him how he's doing during missions, if he's tired, or if it hurts anywhere. She's always asking him, but not in an intrusive way, if he's okay whenever his facial expression changes so slightly or his form tenses the smallest degree, when he recalls his past.
He grows to heavily appreciate these little things. He was never shown this level of care and concern since the incident in his childhood.
So he agrees to her request.
And in my arms
He stays seated on his chair, and sets his cup down onto the table beside him. She sits on his lap, perpendicular to him, back towards the table. His left arm is wrapped around her back, while he rests his right hand on her knew closest to him.
It's not the first time they've been in such close proximity. Their time in the building's library is almost always spent in moments where they're leaning against each other, reading their respective books, sometimes even the same book. Once they were caught, not that they minded too much, with Vergil reading to her the poems of William Blake.
In missions you'd see them defending each other’s backs. It came to the point that they don't have to verbally communicate to know what the other planned. They worked so well, and they were so in sync, you'd think they were two parts of a person who was split in two.
However, there was something different this time. Vergil doesn't exactly know what's out of the ordinary, he just senses it. But as soon as her hands starts gently threading through his hair, he throws away this trail of thinking. It was so relaxing.
'Cause I’m never gonna heal my past
If I run every time it starts
His mind just wanders, but it settles for the memories where he couldn't afford to relax. The memories of playing alone outside, then seeing his house burning. Then having to survive all these years, doing anything he must to gain power to be able to press on. All the wrong choices he made, all the lives he took.
How did he end up being the center of attention of someone so pure? He can't help but be ashamed that maybe he might taint that pureness with his own indecency.
So I need to know, if I’m in this alone
In the years they've worked together, and in the one year they've been close, he has never had the reason to believe she's anything but what she's always been. He'd trust her with his life.
And he'd trust her with so much more.
Come on baby, say it first
Was it because she looks so ethereal, even as a human, as the sunlight begins to brighten the sky, and immerse them with gentle warmth. Was it because when he looked her way after she let out a quiet giggle (yes, his hair is that soft), his breath caught in his throat as their eyes locked onto each other. And he can see the other subtle colors in her irises, otherwise hidden, made visible by the way the early rays hit them.
Yes. He's certain. Something is different now, but he's so unsure how to go about it. Should he bring it up? What is he supposed to say? If he's supposed to say anything at all.
I love you
Vergil's taken aback by that sudden fleeting thought. Love? Is he even capable of it? Is he even worthy of it? Would she even feel that way for someone like him?
He internally scoffs, his signature frown forming on his face as he turns his attention back towards the sun.
I need to hear you, say those words
If I’m all that you desire, I promise there’ll be fire
But... Wouldn't it be nice? For him to say those words, and for her to repeat it to him without any second thoughts, without doubts, without regrets.
He'd be more motivated to do anything. For her. Something else to dedicate his life for, aside from defeating his brother in a friendly battle to the death.
I need to hear you, say it first
Come on baby
Do your worst
If When he finally musters enough courage finds the right time to tell her, he'd like to tell himself he's ready for any outcome.
But he's secretly praying to any and all deities he's heard of for her answer to be in his favor.
I know you’ll take me higher
If she confesses to be ailed by the same feeling, maybe there is a heaven for him. A heaven in his hell of a life. A heaven he'd die protecting. A heaven that made him selfless.
Had he not been so focused in all his "What ifs", he would've felt her left hand move from his scalp to conform to the structure of his jaw, her right falling to his back to stabilize herself. Touch as light as a feather, so he wouldn't break out of his thoughts easily. And she moved slightly to face him better.
With that one look for earlier, two things were beyond doubt.
One. She has to be the one to initiate things. She's more than willing to be twice as affectionate in his stead. She doesn't mind, it's one of his traits that she finds so endearing. But that's not to say she'd also want him to start interactions on his own, eventually.
Still, he looks towards the sun. Wouldn't he get blind? Maybe he's not actually looking at it?
She caresses his face and ever so slightly tilts it to meet hers. Everything slows down. She slowly takes in a breath, and closes her eyes.
Their lips touch in an unassuming kiss. Lasting no more than three seconds, she pulls back. It takes him a bit more to realize what happened, he closes his eyes nonetheless. A small gesture, but it was everything to both of them. An unspoken promise of trust and security.
So come on darling
If you love me, say it first
Neither dares to face the reality after they've separated. Eyes closed, and foreheads together.
"I love you." She's breathes out in a whisper.
I love you too. He wants to say it back. He really does. But he can't, not just yet. He wants to commit, but he's holding back not for his sake. Not because he doesn't want to get hurt. No, she'll never do that to him. He knows that. He also knows that even unwillingly, he might hurt her, one way or another. He's staying quiet for her sake, he tells himself.
She can practically hear the turmoil in his head. And it's pretty obvious that they'd have to take things slow. If everything goes well, they'd have the rest of their lives to make up for it anyway. She pulls away more this time. Opening her eyes to see that his were already unbarred.
She smiles again, as if reading his mind. I love you, his eyes plead.
"I know." She speaks again.
Of course he's surprised. Why does she have to be so understanding and receptive of his miniscule responses? She's too good for him.
He settles with pulling her close again. Trying to hide the color blooming on his cheeks. This will have to do for now, he thinks.
She lets out a chuckle.
Two. Surprise definitely looks good on him.