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Dante trusts him more than they should – always asking for his advice, their presence slotting right next to his own. Standing where others would only cower, a quiet flame in the darkness. As if what they see isn’t an ugly wretched shell of a man.
Vergilius knows he’s their guide. But he’s only their guide, someone whose role is already far too constrained. Beyond that lies a violent misery that’ll only drag them down. Someone that Dante doesn’t need. Someone that Dante doesn’t deserve.
And yet--
It’s perhaps righteous punishment then, that Vergilius finds himself unable to resist. Longing for what he shouldn’t want has never been unfamiliar territory. But Dante makes it frighteningly easy, deft fingers untangling the knots he’s kept deeply buried. The way they see past his walls. They way they can’t see how much he can hurt them. They way they don’t flinch out of fear when they draw close.
The way they willingly welcome his presence instead.
It shouldn’t be like this, this lack of fear, this uncanny understanding that they both quietly share. Going beyond just a manager and their guide, what colleagues should be lest they change into something more, something forbidden. Hushed words whispered between fragile moments. A brush of warm fingers behind cold professionalism. Not friends, not lovers, but something that can’t be put into words. Both drawn to each other like a moth to a beckoning flame.
What Dante offers is everything Vergilius doesn’t deserve. Unsullied by his past, he can’t let himself contaminate them. This distance he’s put up is for their sake as well as his own. One mistake will only lead to another; a weakness born of his own selfishness.
He can’t hurt more than he already has. Can’t hurt Dante, who’s done nothing but only give. But he’s always been made up of miserable things, and here is no different. Next to Dante, he’s only human.
It is a mistake, letting their hands linger for even a moment too long. A weakness, to yearn for a touch of their naked skin against his scarred hands. And yet, it is undoubtedly a need: Dante, so stubborn, so beautiful, a light in the overwhelming darkness of the City. Always reaching out without fear or regret. So steady in their undying warmth. Vergilius is strong as a weapon but weak as a person. He can’t turn away from them, who represents everything’s he always craved.
He waits, standing side by side with Dante. Responds when Dante asks him, needs him, giving him a kindness that hurts. A quiet smile when they’re alone. An outstretched hand back, despite the violence he can still inflict. A weakness that shouldn’t persist. A want he shouldn’t feed.
Regrets waiting to be born. One day, Dante will realize the fatality of their misplaced trust. But until then, Vergilius will be that anchor for them. It’s not what he deserves, but it’s what Dante wants. And Vergilius has always been much too weak next to them.