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Vergil followed the sniffling noise to Dante's cupboard. He paused in front of the old wooden doors for a moment, one of the floorboards creaking beneath his boots as he did so. The paint job was lumpy and textured, poorly concealing the splotches beneath. A cover-up for the time Dante had tried to redecorate them once and had managed to get his patchy red children's paint almost everywhere except for the doors (though there were definitely raised splatters on the surface of the cupboard). Their parents had not been pleased.
Vergil stood and deliberated. Should he open the doors? Dante was loud and annoying but he was his little brother. Mother had said it was Vergil's job to look after him and, right now, Vergil was worried. Dante would've known what to do. He may not read as fast as his older brother or spell words quite as well, but when it came to cheering people up, Dante always seemed to know how to do it.
Vergil never did. He tried, but he always froze up, always second-guessed himself. Vergil tried so hard, but Dante just had something innate. That was a good word, innate. Vergil had found it in a book yesterday and kept looking for excuses to use it. It was easier to be by himself because books were far less demanding than people. He was good at reading books. He wasn't so good at reading people.
But right now, it didn't matter that Vergil preferred his own company, because Dante was upset. He never really knew how to handle it when his little brother was sad. It didn't happen very often, and he always bounced back quickly even when it did. Not now, though. Something was wrong. Something was wrong and Vergil didn't know what to do about it.
Dante's sniffling noises stopped suddenly. "Go away, Vergil," he murmured. His voice was still audibly thick, even though it was muffled behind the cupboard doors.
They still shared a room for now, but Mother and Father had been talking about moving Vergil into the spare bedroom. Some of his old stuff had been transferred there and Vergil slept in there most nights.
"You're both growing boys," Father had said. "You're going to start needing your own space."
Not that it really made a difference. Dante found his way into his older brother's bed most nights anyway. He was always so clingy. It usually bothered Vergil, but right now, he would've taken a clingy Dante in a heartbeat. Anything but this. Vergil stood there outside the doors, hoping it was the right thing to do. Then, slowly, he pulled them open. Dante sank deeper into the hanging clothes, wiggling backwards until his back hit the wall, as though he could hide the fact that he'd obviously been crying. Dante was leaning in on himself with his face hidden against his knees. The clothes covered up the rest of him. There was silence for a few moments.
Vergil fully expected Dante to tell him to leave again. Instead, he sniffed and then mumbled, "Father yelled at me again."
It seemed entirely contradictory to reach out like that after trying so hard to withdraw, but nothing Dante did ever really made sense to Vergil.
Dante must've been glad that Vergil had stayed, though. He was relieved to know that he'd made the right choice, after all.
Vergil moved closer to the side of the cupboard so that he wasn't stuck standing awkwardly over his brother. "What did you do this time?"
Dante finally looked up at him. He raised his head and gazed up miserably at Vergil through his bangs. His face and eyes were red from crying and his voice broke a little as he spoke. "I didn't even do anything," he all but wailed. He paused to wipe his nose on his sleeve, which Vergil found disgusting, but decided now wasn't the time to comment. "I was just trying to help," he sniffed. "I just thought...maybe if I helped organise his dusty old books... then maybe-"
"You know we're not allowed to touch Father's manuals," Vergil sighed, exasperated. It gave him no pleasure to see Dante upset, but he simply had no common sense, sometimes. Most of the time, really.
Dante's face crumpled and he sniffed again. Vergil instantly felt bad. He hated having Dante in his personal space, but he hated seeing him so sad even more. Vergil sat down next to him in an unspoken invitation. He was silently relieved when Dante scooted towards him. They still weren't quite next to one another. Dante was still mostly in the cupboard, with only his shins and feet sticking out in front of him, but the two of them were at least closer now.
"I just thought maybe-" Dante said again. "I just wanted to help." He finally shifted out of the cupboard and shimmied himself until his shoulder was touching Vergil's.
It was quiet again because Vergil never really knew what to say. He liked books. He preferred other people's words because he liked how other people seemed to know how to express what he couldn't. Dante never really seemed to mind, though. He never needed the invitation to talk. Perhaps that's why Dante didn't like reading as much: Dante always had enough words of his own. How Vergil envied him for that.
Dante nuzzled Vergil's shoulder, leaving a wet streak that was either snot or tears on his sleeve. He didn't have it in him to complain.
"He just likes yelling at me," Dante sniffled. "He just does it to be mean. He likes you better."
'Mother likes you better' he wanted to say. "That's not true," Vergil said instead.
"Yes, it is. He hardly ever shouts at you," Dante mumbled.
He was fully leaned against Vergil now, with his face pressed against his older brother's shirt. His arms were wrapped around Vergil's bicep like it was a teddy bear. He probably would have crawled inside Vergil's ear if he could. He wanted to sigh in both relief and frustration, though he did neither. Dante was always so brash, so unshakeable, but there was something undoubtedly fragile about him now. So Vergil only tilted his head to the side until his little brother's fluffy hair tickled his cheek. Dante shifted again. Clearly, he'd taken the reciprocal proximity as his cue to scoot forward until, finally, they were properly next to one another. Dante's stretched-out legs lay parallel to Vergil's arched knees.
Vergil's restraint finally broke. "Well, Mother never shouts at you," he said. There was an audible bitterness in his words that even his clueless brother picked up on.
Dante cocked his head, then spluttered as his too-long hair caught in his mouth. He sat up properly, then, and flipped his hair away from his face. Vergil didn't like how much it made Dante look like him.
"That's not true. She scolds me a lot. It's just different when she does it. It's scarier when Father yells."
Vergil didn't reply.
"Momma loves us both, you know," Dante added sternly, his eyes intently fixed on Vergil.
Vergil picked at a seam on his pants wordlessly, averting his gaze. Dante seemed to have stopped crying now at the very least.
"Well, Father loves us both too," Vergil said eventually.
"I guess so," Dante accepted hesitantly. He leaned his head back against his older brother's shoulder. His voice wasn't quite so thick anymore.
Vergil still wasn't entirely sure that Dante was okay though. He was still awfully quiet, aside from the occasional sniffling. Vergil would offer to fetch him a tissue if his brother wasn't clinging to him quite so strongly.
"Hey, Dante?" He ventured.
His little brother hummed tiredly.
"Do you want to play before supper?"
Dante instantly perked up, his eyes sparkling. "Didn't you wanna finish your book today?"
He did. "I could always finish it tomorrow," he said anyway.
Dante's whole face lit up. He unhooked his arms in favour of facing Vergil properly. "Really?" He asked.
"Really."
Dante did his best to squeeze the life out of Vergil. He wrapped him up in a bear hug tightly and all but crushed his brother's ribs. Eventually, however, the torture ended. Dante drew away with a big smile, stood up, and pulled his shirt off. But not before wiping his face off on it one more time.
"You're gross, you know that?" Vergil groaned.
Dante only grinned at him and then turned to retrieve another white shirt from the closet, abandoning the dirty one on the floor. Vergil sneered at it with unmasked disgust. Then, once the clean shirt was on, Dante curled back up against Vergil again.
"Thanks for cheering me up, Vergil," he mumbled against his brother's arm.
It warmed his heart to know that he'd managed to successfully comfort his brother, not that he'd ever admit it. There was a soft knock at the door and Vergil perked up, though Dante sank back against his brother, as though hiding in case it was their father. Their mother peered around the corner at them and smiled when she spotted her boys.
"It's nice to not have to break up a fight for once," she said good-naturedly. "Are you two getting along?"
Dante nodded ethusiatically, drawing up his legs from where they were stretched out. "Vergil made me feel better."
Eva leaned over the two of them and pressed a kiss to the tops of each of their heads. Dante giggled, but Vergil only stared. She didn't seem to mind, though. She only continued to smile down at him, her eyes sparkling with affection.
Then, she shifted her focus. "Your father has been under a lot of stress lately, Dante. You mustn't take it to heart, but promise me you won't touch his books without permission next time, alright?" She ruffled his hair when he nodded. Eva turned back to him. "And, Vergil? Thank you for being such a good big brother," she smiled.
Vergil inclined his head hesitantly.
"Now," she announced, her hands on her hips. "What do my two good boys want for dinner, huh?" She roared playfully, her hands reaching out to tickle Dante. He tried to wiggle away from her grasp, but their mother was relentless. She kept at it for a few more seconds, before finally drawing away.
Dante turned to him once he'd finally stopped giggling. "What do you think, Vergil?"
"Pizza?" He said tentatively.
Vergil expected Dante to cheer, but he only frowned. "You hate pizza," he said. "What do you really want?"
Dante and Mother were looking at him expectantly. "Then, risotto, but-"
Dante hated risotto.
Dante didn't stick out his tongue like he usually did whenever the prospect of his least favourite dish was brought up, though. He didn't even protest.
"Well, since you've both been so well-behaved today," Their mother said. "Why don't we have pizza and risotto, huh?"
That, Dante, cheered for.
"It is going to be a lot of work getting it all done before your father is home, so what do you say I enlist the help of my two favourite kitchen assistants, hmm?" She reached out a hand expectantly towards both of them.
Dante took her right immediately, lacing both sets of his much smaller fingers with her own. Vergil reached out a little more tentatively, latching onto her left with one hand. His long fingers meant that his hands weren't quite as small-looking as his brother's.
"I'm so proud of my boys," Eva smiled at them as she led them towards the kitchen. "I love you both so much, you know that?"
And, for once, Vergil found himself believing just that.