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Blood flows down old pipes, mixed with water. Outside the window, the world stands still before the storm, and Vergil merely closes his eyes. Blood is proof that he is still alive, that he can still function, that he is real. Yamato is hiding somewhere in the corner, it no longer wants blood, it just watches its master, who can hardly function as before.
Vergil knows that this too shall pass, the pain will subside, and after every dark night comes a bright dawn, but right now he is unable to believe it. Dante always laughed loudly, always filled everything with his presence, always tried to be... close? Perhaps. He had been like that since childhood — he wasn't afraid to take his hand, he wasn't afraid to fight with him for his mother's attention, he never turned away, he always looked him in the back. Vergil was used to it, Vergil knew — that's how it was supposed to be.
But everything changes, nothing lasts forever.
The blood is washed away with water, and Vergil feels purified. The wildest nightmares flash before his eyes — his captivity, his unconscious rage, his desire to be better and earn the whole world so he could throw it at Dante's feet, but... was that what he, his brother, needed? He didn't know. All Vergil understands now is that everything is becoming too heavy.
Dante was always boisterous, Dante was always nearby, but as soon as Vergil had gone away just once, everything changed. When he came home after, this woman was there. Lady, his brother called her. A girl who looked like someone who has never been instructed in appropriate clothing, and Dante... looked at her and smiled ever more tenderly than he had ever smiled at him.
Jealousy breaks you, jealousy kills you, but Vergil just exhales:
"Having second thoughts so soon, brother?,“ his voice sounds too hoarse, it makes him cough, but behind the closing door, Dante's voice is barely louder than the rustling of the wind:
”Wait, fuck, where do you-"
It's always been like this — wait, it’s not what you think, she's not my new girlfriend at all, it's all nonsense; Vergil has heard this so often that now he just closes his eyes wearily. He really is damn tired, the wound on his side is opening up, the mirror in the bathroom cracks under the blow, splits into a web and crumbles into the sink. Vergil looks at all this and feels a void growing inside him.
He is a goddamn mistake, because no one should have feelings for their brother. But Dante's lips were always hot, like hell itself, Dante's hands always held him tight, and that's why it all hurts between the fifth and sixth ribs. The whole world is just a joke, albeit an unsuccessful one. They always knew that, they always knew that happiness is fleeting and that the time to pay always comes.
Dante paid with obscurit y— three years since Vergil disappeared into the night and no one could find him. Not a single dog or rat knew where his brother was, but Dante never stopped searching. Lady and Trish said, “Give it up, you know it's no use - no one can find him until he wants to be found,” but he couldn't. He didn't want to.
What a fool.
Everything could have been different—Lady's hands, soothing in an almost sisterly gesture, slide to the top of his head, but only provoke loathing. It is so strong that Dante grimaces and moves away, grabs another bottle of beer, and combs his hair from his forehead to the back of his head. It is raining outside the window, and it does not stop. Battles with demons take more and more strength, but he has sworn to himself to find Vergil at any cost.
But is it possible to find someone who does not want to be found? Is it possible to save someone who does not want to be saved?
Dante knows the answer, but doesn't want to admit it to himself. Loss is always difficult.
Drops hit the glass and slide down, Dante drinks another bottle and turns up the music. His search is not over yet, he must find his brother. But - he’s not just Dante’s brother, is he?
Three years pass in torment, three years is too long to bring back what should never have returned. Vergil lifts Yamato less and less often, nightmares are replaced by fragments of sleep, and the child looks at him with such pure eyes that Vergil gives up.
“Nero, don't be naughty. You need to eat,” he almost says “please,” and even though he sees that terribly familiar mischief in the little boy's deep eyes, the boy, as if sensing someone else's feelings, takes the spoon himself and finishes his soup.
In three years, everything has changed so much, in three years everything has become so strange and distant that Vergil only remembered Dante at night, when his son was too deep in sleep to hear him. Vergil has no right to give up, to fall apart, to do anything that could harm him...
This store is too noisy. Dante has rarely been here in recent months, but today he has no choice. A mouse hung itself in the refrigerator, and Dante himself... was almost ready to join it. He had almost lost all hope.
Vergil comes here much more often — Nero likes the noise, Nero likes to feel surrounded by people, and now he is clutching someone else's hand so tightly that Vergil allows himself to smile.
“My little rascal, let's go, we still have a lot of plans for today,” Vergil says as he picks up the child, who is staring at the lollipops in his hands, and Nero immediately hugs him around the neck in a trusting manner. Now, disheveled and wearing a red T-shirt, he looks like a copy of little Dante, he thinks sadly, and then...
he feels something tugging at his cloak. Although, tugging is not the right word. Something is clinging to him, and Vergil doesn't even have time to say anything, only turning around before a phrase from familiar lips hits him like a bucket of ice water:
“Vergil, you...” Dante's voice trembles, Vergil shudders and presses his lips together. Nero looks on with an interest and innocence worthy only of small children, while all his father can do is take a deep breath and exhale. The cracks spread at the most inopportune moment, multiplying, creeping like a spider's web, and Vergil feels his legs buckle.
Dante was looking for him, and Vergil was afraid of being found. All he wants now is for this to be a dream.
“Dante,” Vergil smiles slightly, turns around, sees the stranger's pupils dilate and how the man looks at the child, “this is Nero, my son.” Vergil should have said “our son,” but he doesn't. It was almost four years ago, it was one night when they drank too much and slept together, but it bore fruit.
Dante presses his lips together, looks at him almost incredulously, and then smiles:
“So, you've finally settled down?” A knot forms in his stomach, his fingers tighten around the cloak, but Vergil doesn't flinch. He stands completely still, not even trying to break free. Dante feels the ground slip away from under his feet as he smiles almost painfully.
“I see. So that's why you ran away?” He didn't want to believe it, but... fuck. Dante also remembered that night. He wanted to say in the morning that it had never been a mistake, but did he have the right to do so now? Dante didn't know. But he did know that someone had made Vergil happy.
“We'll talk, but not here,” Vergil's fingers gently ruffle Nero's hair as he begins to whimper and poke at the ice cream shelf.
“Do you still live where you used to?” A simple nod is all the answer Vergil needs. “Good. We'll come by in the evening.”
Vergil was always the opposite — if Dante was hot, Vergil was cold. But now things are different — they are drifting apart and each is thinking about his own thing.
But when Vergil and Nero come to Dante in the evening, he is at a loss. Should he have hugged Vergil and asked for forgiveness? Should he have been a sarcastic bastard? He doesn't know. Dante also has many scars, and not all of them are as visible as Vergil's.
But Nero quickly finds something to do, while Dante just grabs his brother and drags him into the living room. Sitting next to him and touching his thigh feels very wrong, but he can't help himself.
“So... how have you been doing all this time?” Dante's voice is hoarse, a lump in his throat making it hard for him to breathe.
To hell with it. To hell with all of it.
"If you want to ask whose son it is, I won't lie and I'll tell you the truth. He's yours, Dante. He's ours,“ Vergil's voice is calm, as always. His eyes meet Dante's gaze, and he shakes his head, ” I wanted to tell you that I was with child then, but you were... with her. It was quite... clear, what you really wanted.”
It comes out almost contemptuously, but Vergil allows himself this. At least for a moment, Vergil gathers the strength to do so.
“You... seven demons' breeches, Verg, you idiot!” Dante almost growls, with fingers clenching on his brother’s shoulder, crumpling the blue fabric of his cloak. Vergil's lips are cold, just as they were last time. Dante had imagined this scene so many times, how he would find Vergil, how they would talk, but all Dante does now is press his thin lips against Vergil's, kissing him almost desperately. Time heals, other people said. No, time only cripples — Vergil shudders beneath him and moans softly.
“I've never been with Trish, or Lady, or any other girl, for that matter,” Dante exhales into Vergil's shoulder, burying his face in it and digging his fingers into his hair. Vergil goes quiet beneath him, but Dante has no intention of pulling away.
“You stole my v-card, you damn icicle, and now you're all grumbling. All I ever needed all this time was you,” — the simple truth cuts like a knife, and Vergil... Vergil smiles.
“Then why didn't you find us sooner?”
“I tried, you idiot,” — and it was true. They hid well, never staying in the same place twice — only that store was the only place where Nero didn't throw a tantrum because of the noise in the first five minutes. Vergil presses his lips together and exhales quietly:
“...I'm sorry,” and with that, he forgets everything else, the world suddenly collapses at his feet, becoming a vacuum, with no one left but him, Nero, and Dante.
“Then... does that mean you're ready to be a dad?”
Dante's laughter in response is sincere, almost tearful, and Vergil hugs him tighter.
“A dad... yeah. Yeah, damn right. You and kid ain’t runnin’ away from me any time soon.”
Now... now, everything will be fine for them.
Now they will have a family, the cracks will be mended, the tears will dry, and forgiveness will never turn into farewell.