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Vergilius didn’t eat much, and he knew he should stop being like that. Most of the days he didn’t feel like having a bite of anything. It was a chore, and it felt wrong. He only remembered to eat better on days where he was in a good mood. That happened only when he saw Charon smile, or when Dante slept with him.
Work had kept both guide and manager busy and far apart. Needless to say, it made him depressed. Lethargy didn’t fit his work schedule, so he forced himself to settle for the all too common everyday apathy.
Not like he needed to eat that much anymore, with how little physical effort he was doing nowadays. His days were summarized in reading reports and writing reports. Occasionally he had to settle a sinner dispute that Dante was incapable of solving by themself, but that was it. He didn’t even have to walk much either, since he was confined to the rooms in the bus. Extra calories would be wasted on him, as he had become an office rat. He realized that his frame had gotten thinner, but didn’t really feel like trying to take care of himself better.
That night Vergilius started feeling a little woozy though, and he knew it was because he went over a day and a half without a single snack. He drank plenty of water still, but his stomach was as empty as it could be. For an hour or two he tried to ignore it in favor of getting a report out before sleep, but then his stomach grumbled loud enough for the sinners to hear it echo through the walls.
That was when he sighed heavily and dropped his pen with an angry click of his tongue. Vergilius got up to his feet slowly, knowing that his sight would go black if he tried getting up faster. The guide stretched and flexed his legs lightly then left towards the kitchen.
It was a simple task. Get in, fetch something easy to eat, get out and resume his report. He settled for a simple turkey sandwich, which he ate in two bites. That was enough to get him through the night, he thought to himself. Mission complete. He walked back to his room and went back to resuming his work.
A couple hours later— when his stomach started feeling odd— he realized his mistake. At first it was just an odd feeling, then the slight nausea, and by the time a sharp pain struck his stomach, he blindly dashed to the bathroom. He had barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit his guts out violently.
Of course the single thing he’d eaten the whole day must have been spoiled. Vergilius had swallowed it all so fast he wouldn’t have noticed any weird taste in time. He felt stupid, and now his head spun worse than it did before the snack. He knelt in front of the toilet bowl, head resting on the edge as he tried to catch his breath, and then he started retching again.
Vergilius threw up everything inside his stomach, and even when there was nothing else to spit out, he still felt intense nausea paired with stomach pain. The worst part was that his single thought through it all was that he wouldn’t get those reports out in time, and would have to skip his already short sleep hours altogether.
It was pathetic, simply put. He remained where he sat in front of the toilet bowl, forehead resting over the plastic seat as he breathed shallowly. He could feel the cold sweat that seeped into his clothes and the stench of whatever had mixed with stomach acid lingering in the air. It only made him feel sicker.
Vergilius sighed heavily and tried to push himself up, at least so he could flush the toilet, but found it impossible. A tiny voice in the back of his head called him stupid for not taking better care of himself. Whatever remained of his self preservation instincts told him he needed to get up and get some medicine for this. That would mean going out and possibly calling for help, considering his state. He would never do that.
The guide thought to himself that maybe if he rested there for long enough, his body would eventually get its shit together and then he could finish his report and get some kind of medicine. Of course the work still came first, even now.
As his consciousness vaguely drifted around his miserable frame, Vergilius didn’t hear the door of his room opening. He only realized that somebody had come in once the person was close enough to touch his shoulder. As soon as the fingers brushed the fabric of his shirt, he froze like stone. His heartbeat quickened and his blood heated up. Vergilius was ready to have to fight for his life, up until he heard the first tick.
Tick… Tock…
The guide turned his head slowly, only to see his glaring red eyes reflected on smooth black metal. Dante looked down on him, and he could almost see the worry in their expressionless face.
“What… are you doing…” He mumbled.
Without saying an intelligible word, Dante quickly removed their gloves and put one hand to his forehead, then looked around the bathroom and immediately stood straight up. They held out a hand to Vergilius, who just stared at it.
Dante seemed to sigh, with their shoulders sagging a little right before they straightened their back and grabbed Vergilius’ hands. They seemed to be making an effort to pull him up and make him stand, but they were too weak to lift Vergilius’ malnourished body.
That was when the guide finally realized he had to get his shit together and made an effort to get onto his feet. Even if Dante’s pathetic attempts at helping were too weak, they were enough to get him to stand. Vergilius swayed a little, almost falling over onto Dante for a moment, but with the manager’s help he could steady himself.
Dante then hooked an arm around the guide’s waist— which Vergilius barely had the energy to say anything about— and helped him walk over to the bed. As soon as the guide had sat down, Dante hurriedly went back into the bathroom and came back with a bucket, which they placed by Vergilius’ feet. They raised a palm and tried to quickly signal that they’d be back soon.
< Just wait here. > Vergilius heard in his head.
Not like he had any energy left to be waltzing around, he thought to himself and sighed. He put his elbows on his thighs and held his head in both hands, breathing in quick, shallow breaths. He still felt lightheaded and weak, but at least now he had a little room to breathe. Without the stench of vomit even.
Just like Dante said, they returned in just a couple minutes. With something in their hand and a glass of water. They shook Vergilius by the shoulder and when he looked up, they pushed a pill onto one of his palms and the glass of water onto the other. The guide was annoyed at how bossy they suddenly were, groaning in response. Still, he took that pill and threw it into his mouth and downed the entire glass of water.
“I’ll hang you upside down if I throw this up.” Vergilius said weakly. There was no bite to his threat, of course. It was not like he could follow up on that. If he vomited again, he was sure he would pass out.
Dante nodded and pushed his shoulder lightly. Vergilius looked up, knitting his eyebrows together. Dante gestured at the bed, then at him.
< You need to lay down. >
“Just so I throw up on the bed?” Vergilius scoffed.
Dante crossed their arms and quickly tapped their foot on the floor. Vergilius almost snorted at how cute they looked while all annoyed. Dante couldn’t be threatening to a kitten if they wanted to. Still, they were very insistent, so the guide simply sighed and followed along.
As soon as the guide had laid down, Dante kicked off their shoes and sat by his side. Vergilius rolled over to his other side and laid his head on their lap. Dante startled slightly, but then started caressing the guide’s hair gently.
“If I throw up, it will be on you.” Vergilius grumbled.
Dante patted his head twice and then continued running their fingers on his hair.
They remained like that for a while, the quiet rhythmical ticks of Dante’s clock head were the only noise in the room. After what seemed like half an hour roughly, Vergilius stopped feeling the sharp pain in his stomach, and just a few minutes later the nausea had abandoned him altogether. He was no longer sweating cold either, and if not for the lightheadedness, he could say he was back to normal.
“What… did you give me…?”
< Medicine! These pills are good for Sinclair. > Dante wrote slowly on his cheek with a finger.
“Hn…” Vergilius sighed.
< Do you feel better…? >
Their peculiar manner of communication was easy for Vergilius to understand, even in this state. Perhaps it was because of how often they did it that it had grown on him like a second learned language.
“Yes.” Vergilius stated plainly, then after a moment, he added a weak “Thank you.”
There was still the problem of his empty stomach and his growing weakness.
Dante took something out of their coat pocket and held Vergilius’ wrist as they placed it in his open palm. Vergilius looked at what seemed like a chocolate bar.
< It’s nutritious. You won’t throw it up, I promise. >
“Why…?”
< I noticed you never eat. > Dante shook their head, < Without my guide, I’ll be completely lost. >
“That’s a pretty way to say I need to be more responsible about my job.”
Dante let out an annoyed click and then lightly slapped his forehead. Vergilius glared at them, and they immediately shrank.
< Sorry. But I do need you, so please be more careful. >
Vergilius huffed a breath through his nose and unwrapped the snack Dante had given him. The first bite made it clear that it was nothing like chocolate, but it tasted good enough. After finishing it all slowly, Vergilius could feel himself slightly more energized. He was almost back to normal.
The guide sat up, noticing that his head didn’t spin as much as before, and then looked at the executive manager. Their flames had sparked to life with joy. It almost made Vergilius smile on the spot, but he kept his expression as neutral as possible.
“You shouldn’t get into my room unannounced.” He scolded, and then his expression softened when he added, “But… thank you…”
Dante nodded and spread their arms open, to which Vergilius sighed and sank into their embrace. This was the kind of intimacy he couldn’t feel he would ever have with anybody else. He couldn’t help but think that Dante was too soft to be in The City, and how stupid they were for being like that.
Still he was glad that they were soft. He didn’t want to think about his life without the pathetic clock head manager around.