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Truth be told, this conversation was long overdue. After everything they'd dealt with, after everything they'd experienced over their time both together and apart, Vergil knew he owed that to Dante. It killed him to admit it, but he did.
So why was this causing him so much trouble? It should be simple; walk into the shop, find Dante, and apologize for… well, everything, to be completely honest. It's not like he was a complete stranger, or worse, the type to hold a grudge for very long. Yet, Vergil found himself unable to move from where he had planted himself in front of the Devil May Cry building. He could hear everyone inside, the sounds of those two women arguing. He could hear Dante— or rather, he could feel Dante— sitting inside, unbothered by the two voices teasing him for being behind on his rent again. He could even feel Nero— his son— putzing about in the garage, no doubt with that Nico woman trying to decide what to do with all the extra prosthetic limbs she'd crafted specifically for Nero during his shameful attempt at ruling the Demon World now that Nero had his fully functional arm back in one piece.
Vergil knew Dante could feel him, too. Whether it was the human concept of twin telepathy or the far more likely option of their unique familial bond stemming from shared demon blood, he knew Dante was well aware of his presence outside the shop. His brother made no effort to disturb him where he stood, but he could feel the almost gentle pull at their invisible connection; a brief, subtle tug, indicating that Dante was inviting him inside. More than likely as an excuse to escape the berating from the women in front of him, but an invitation, no less. Taking a deep breath, Vergil steeled his nerves, standing up straighter to fix his posture before he climbed the small staircase and turned the doorknob, pushing the door to the shop open so he could step inside.
Despite his presence, Lady and Trish continued their conversation with Dante, who was sitting in the chair behind the desk with his feet kicked up on the surface. His arms were folded across his chest, eyes half closed as if he were trying to keep himself awake. No doubt he'd heard this same conversation a thousand and one times from the women in front of him, the relentless teasing that made Vergil hover by the door as they effectively tore Dante a new one for neglecting the bills this month. Not because he couldn't make the money if he wanted to, but because, as Vergil heard secondhand from Lady's mouth, the most recent job was too boring for him to feel like going. Apparently, as Vergil closed the door behind him and eavesdropped on the three, Dante was planning on sending Nero to handle it in his place. Something about how Nero was still pretty green when it came to hunting bigger, badder demons, as if being instrumental in taking down Urizen a few years ago wasn't good enough to warrant Dante to bite his tongue on his commentary.
"While I hate to interrupt, could the two of you give me a moment with Dante? I assure you, it won't take long. You can go back to sinking your teeth into him afterwards, if you so choose." Vergil finally said, breaking his silence as he looked over at Trish and Lady. As they stared at him, he got the feeling this was the first time they'd registered that he'd even entered the shop, and perhaps it was. Vergil didn't share the same kind of bond with them as he did with Dante, though whether his brother had gone so far as to forge one with these women, he didn't know. Shooting a glance at Dante, Vergil willed the other occupants of the room to leave, hoping that his continued presence would save him from their interrogation about what he could possibly need with Dante right now. Luckily for him, the two had little interest in talking to him, sighing as the pair looked at Dante once more.
"I'll go see about whether that new contact is trustworthy or not. Try not to break anything else today, Dante." Lady told him, frowning as she turned to head out. Trish, for her part, seemed eager to get out of the room. She followed after Lady, the two women walking past Vergil entirely without a second glance as their arms linked together, the sound of their voices lost in the ringing of the entrance bell jingling and the door slamming closed behind them. Vergil waited, eyes on the door, until he felt they were a healthy distance away before his eyes darted over to the man behind the desk.
"Well, well. To what do I owe the surprise? Lemme guess, you started up with some crazy plot and need your ass kicked to talk ya out of it? Someone's been eaten by a giant eldritch demon old as dear old dad? You're gonna start chewing me out about rent being due, too? Oh, don't worry, I can go on forever. You can just tell me when I'm gettin' warmer." Dante said, tossing his hands up with his palms outstretched. Vergil felt his teeth clench, his jaw tight as he watched his brother list off excuses for his presence in his shop today. It almost worked him up, but the dull pull of their their shared blood that had somehow maintained itself even after all this time seemed to silence Dante's annoying guessing game rather quickly. Sensing his brother's touch within the depths of his soul, Dante shifted to take his feet off the desk, careful not to disturb the picture frame perched on the edge, eyes squinting as he looked Vergil from head to toe. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, perhaps even softer, if Vergil thought hard enough about it. "What's eatin' ya, Verge? You don't usually let me talk this long."
"I… came here to talk. To you. I know, terrifying to hear it said out loud, isn't it?" Vergil sighed, crossing his arms as Dante's eyes widened in response. He fixed Vergil with an uncertain stare, leaning his arms against the flat surface of the desk as he tilted his head slightly. A silent inquiry for Vergil to continue, unwilling to disturb the uneasy silence within the room itself before Vergil was ready. For once in his life, Dante was waiting for Vergil to break the silence. It was unsettling in it's own right, to say the least.
Slowly, Vergil willed the words to come to the front of his mouth where he could hastily spit them out. He wanted to be done with this, to wash his hands of the troubles that had been plaguing him for quite a few nights now. Or was he fooling himself? Unwilling to answer his own question, Vergil stepped closer to the desk until the heavy wood bumped into the top of his thigh, one hand scratching blunt fingernails against the fabric of his coat. If he focused on that, on pulling the loose string he found, maybe this wouldn't be so difficult.
"I… Find myself troubled by our lives. By my life, and it's effect upon you, I suppose. Though we are siblings, I… I have treated you rather terribly, haven't I? I would like to apologize for that. For… my foolishness." Vergil spoke slowly, carefully picking his words one by one as they filled the shop and that deafening silence. Vergil felt his tongue press into the uneven, crooked line of his bottom teeth as he tried to hide the way his voice pitched in the face of his confession. It was ridiculous, feeling this afraid. What did he have to worry about? Dante had forgiven much worse people than Vergil in his lifetime, surely that would hold true towards his own brother? Yet, something about the way Dante sat there in silence drove him insane. It was as if Vergil's entire body was frozen in time, his throat tight and his fingers gripping the sleeves of his coat as his arms remained folded. He began to feel nervous, afraid that Dante would turn him away.
Or worse, that Dante would laugh at him. He wasn't sure he could handle that.
Dante shifted then, moving to get up from the chair to walk around the desk. Vergil bristled at his approach, momentary fear flooding his system as Dante walked closer still. Bracing himself, Vergil anticipated revenge. He expected some kind of fight, a cheap-shot maybe. But that wasn't really Dante's style, evidenced by the way Dante merely threw an arm around his shoulders. Vergil found himself mushed against Dante's side, head knocking against his brother's jaw as Dante squeezed said arm tight, crunching Vergil's upper half against himself in a makeshift hug of sorts. He didn't trap Vergil in place, Vergil's mouth suddenly dry at the realization he wasn't upset with him for the gesture. When Dante relaxed his arm, it's weight still draped across Vergil's shoulders, Vergil risked a glance at him, finding Dante's mouth curled in a grin, snaggle-tooth on full display as his somewhat glassy eyes squinted closed from the force of his smile. Something about the sight warmed Vergil from the inside, a foreign sensation that he hadn't felt in so many years.
It was good to see his brother smiling at him again, like they were still children fighting in the front yard as their mother called them in for dinner. Like nothing had ever changed.
"Not to sound like a jackass, but you came all the way here and stopped the girls from shoutin' at me for that? I think you're getting a little soft, Vergil." Dante teased, earning an exasperated sigh from Vergil in response. Though he knew he didn't need to, Vergil still shifted to shove Dante's arm off, clinging to the small sense of pride he had left after confessing to his growing guilt. In response, Dante laughed; not at him, but because of him. He nudged Vergil's arm with his elbow, gesturing his thumb towards the small hallway that would take the two of them to the small kitchenette that the shop boasted. "Oh, relax. You're my brother, Verge. No matter what happens, I'm always gonna forgive you, even when I don't really want to. Now, you wanna come grab a bite to eat with me? We can keep talkin' if you like, don't have to though. Seems like you got a lot more you wanna say, but you just don't know how to say it yet."
"When did you become psychic? And if that's what you are, stop. I don't appreciate someone else prodding into my mind. It's rather obnoxious, actually." Vergil complained, frowning as his brow knitted together at Dante's commentary. Still, he couldn't deny that he was right. There was so much that Vergil wanted to say— so much he lacked the capacity to say— that it must have been impossible to hide. For all the jokes and facades Dante wore best, Vergil was no fool. He'd grown in the same womb as Dante, and as such, he knew him better than anyone ever would while strangely not knowing him at all. But when it came to matters of quiet, hidden emotions, Dante's intelligence stretched just as far as Vergil's own, if not further.
How cruel, Vergil thought, to be an open book to the one person you had hurt the most in your life.
"Doesn't take a psychic to know you got too much rattling around in that brain of yours, Vergil. Always did overthink everything, even when we were kids." Dante commented, shrugging his shoulders and tossing his arm back in place across Vergil's shoulder as Vergil stood there, allowing the brief connection of Dante's arm to remain tucked around him this time for as long as Dante would leave it there. He lacked the desire to shrug it off as something inside of his chest screamed to get away while he still could, another voice sobbing silently for it to never leave. Conflicted, Vergil found himself motionless, staring at Dante through narrowed eyes as his brother grinned at him. It was embarrassing how quickly Vergil followed when Dante dragged him along towards the kitchenette. It was hard to tell whether or not Dante could hear the voice's endless wailing inside of his head, but Vergil could feel the soothing touch of Dante reaching out to him across the endless pit that had formed between the pair and their emotional connection. For a moment, Vergil allowed himself to sink into it, tense shoulders relaxing as Dante once more began to rebuild the burnt bridge between them until they reached the dimly lit kitchenette at the end of the hallway.
"Do you own anything other than pizza? Honestly, I'm beginning to think most of your energy is expended on your demonic blood preventing a heart-attack." Vergil mumbled, staring at the tiny two-person table that took up most of the space in the room. The dull buzzing of the fridge had broken him out of his pliant, relaxed state, his eyes having landed on a stack of four empty pizza boxes stacked on the counter. Realistically, Vergil knew Dante wasn't the sole culprit in the growing tower of garbage in need of taking out. It was a combined effort between Nero and Dante, as well as Trish and Lady. Once or twice, Vergil had stolen a slice or two, always in the dead of night from that rattling fridge that sat in the corner, a slew of mismatched magnets holding reminders and phone numbers for Dante's extended friends like Patty or Morrison. Vergil stared at the notes on the fridge, eyes scanning several different styles of handwriting as he finally shrugged Dante's arm off, moving to take up a spot at the small table silently.
"I do, but your options are kinda limited. Let's see here…" Dante replied, sauntering over to the buzzing metal box he called a fridge. Pulling the door open, Dante knelt down in front of it, one arm draped over one thigh as his other held the door open. The glow from the old bulb highlighted the shadows on his little brother's face, Vergil's eyes pulling away at the reminder of the passage of time he'd missed to stare down at the table. He traced the wood-grain, lips set into a tight line as he listened to Dante ramble off. "We got cold pepperoni pizza, slightly warm beer cause this thing never gets drinks cold enough, one of Nero's lunches that Kyrie makes for him and Lady's leftovers from that place down the road, Nico's… I don't know what that is, actually. Probably shouldn't eat it, now that I'm thinkin' about it."
"Water." Vergil replied dryly, eyes finally turning back to Dante as he caught his brother looking at him, a grimace settling on his features as he shook his head. Vergil watched as Dante popped two beers off the plastic ringlets, standing up and bumping the door closed with his hip before he walked back over in two long strides.
"I wouldn't. Morrison hasn't gotten a call back from the plumbing guy to fix the pipes, yet. Kitchen faucet's been running brown for a few days, probably 'cause of all the rebuilding happening uptown. We, in our lovely little paradise here downtown, get all the run-off of the mud in the pipes from them fixin' everything." Dante told him, sitting the lukewarm can down in front of him before he sat down as well, leaning back in his chair and popping the top of his own. Vergil stared down at the can in front of him, eyes narrowed as his nose scrunched up at the smell when he popped the tab of it. Hesitantly, Vergil lifted the drink to his lips, taking one long sip before his taste buds soured, the can rattling for an unsteady moment when Vergil sat it back down just a little too fast. Dante snorted, gesturing towards Vergil with a glint of mischief in his eyes as he watched Vergil's disgusted expression from across the table. "C'mon, it doesn't taste that bad. You've definitely eaten worse tasting things in Hell."
"I have eaten vile things, but that is the most insulting thing I have ever put in my mouth, by far. The fact that you keep canned piss in your fridge is appalling, Dante. Honestly, I have half a mind to bring you bottled water every time I visit if this is what you've resorted to drinking until the pipes are repaired." Vergil replied, earning a hearty chuckle from Dante as the man shrugged, knocking back another large swig of his beer as he threw one arm over the back of the chair he sat in. Vergil could tell it took a large amount of restraint to keep from kicking his feet up on the table and knocking half the pizza boxes over, but somehow, Dante quelled that urge before he got started, instead throwing one leg over the other as he looked back across the table at him.
"Hey, we everyday folks get our kicks where we can. And mine just happens to come in the format of tormenting my older brother. It's the least I can do, considering all the trouble you caused for everyone else, y'know? Keeps the scales balanced." Dante teased, winking as he lifted his beer can back to his lips, earning a half-hearted snort from Vergil in response. The sound quickly turned into a low, hum of a laugh, Vergil's lips curling into a faint smile as the ghost of a time long passed crossed his mind. Curious, Dante raised an eyebrow, one hand still holding the can as he crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his chin up in Vergil's direction. "What's got you snickerin' over there, huh? Something funny, Verge?"
"Not really, I just remembered something, that's all. If we're comparing trouble we've caused, I still never got you back for throwing me into mother's vanity when we were children." Vergil said, lifting his head to meet Dante's gaze. The kitchen fell silent for a moment as the words hung in the air, the memory swimming between the two of them and casting its sudden and all encompassing warmth over the twins, only for Dante to break out into a loud, hearty laugh. Vergil couldn't help but chuckle along, the dull buzz of their childhood antics and a petty argument that had gone just a touch too far growing inside of his chest like a late-blooming seedling. He could still hear their mother fussing, a sound he hadn't heard in decades ringing in his ears alongside the sound of his and Dante's crying. He found it strange how memories he had only recently regained in their entirety could feel like they had happened only yesterday.
"Oh, mom was pissed!" Dante said, grin stretching from ear to ear as he recalled how much that day had upset Eva. Dante shifted to lean forward, resting his arms on the table in a mirror image of his older brother as his laughter faded, nothing but a small smile left behind. There was a far-off look in his eyes, as if he were remembering something himself, and Vergil waited patiently for him to speak. He braced himself the second he heard it; a long, tired sigh that sounded more like Dante was deflating than anything. Still, he couldn't have prepared himself for the way Dante sounded when he spoke again. "Y'know… I miss her, Vergil. I miss her a lot."
"You and I both, little brother." Vergil replied, voice painfully soft as he tread carefully on the subject. It had been a long time since their mother had died, and for most of it, Vergil hadn't even been himself. Time had passed anyway, leaving Vergil behind and Dante to work through— or not work through— things on his own. In a way, he was better off that Vergil was. Enough time had passed for Dante that mentally, he could speak on the topic with a normal, contained amount of grief. But for Vergil, it felt as if hardly any time at all had truly passed. The grief had still been fresh enough in his mind at nineteen, and everything between that and rejoining his two halves was more or less a blip in time. Slowly, Vergil lifted his beer back to his lips, almost thankful for the bitter liquid as it washed away at least some of the sour taste in the back of his throat.
The kitchen grew silent once again, and Vergil realized that Dante must be terribly lost in thought with the way his eyes looked to have glazed over, unblinking as if he were somewhere else completely. Summoning his courage, Vergil reached across the table, nudging his knuckles against Dante's fist that rested loosely against the tabletop. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Slowly, Dante blinked, pulling himself back to the present to find Vergil watching him, clearing his throat as he moved to polish off the last of his beer. Vergil watched as the can hit the tabletop, rattling echo fading in the dim yellow lighting of the kitchen until Dante fixed his eyes on him, a grin painting across his face that never quite reached his eyes. In the face of it, Vergil refused to allow the door to close on them, unwilling to let Dante block off the pathway between them that had finally begun to open.
"I wonder… Do you think she would be proud of us? Or would she be ashamed at the things that have befallen us?" Vergil questioned, fingers tapping slowly against the can held in his palm, it's metallic shell humming at the contact as the liquid inside sloshed left and right. Apparently, his question must have surprised Dante, as his brother's expression faltered. Jaw set, Dante looked across the table at him, his eyes blank and unreadable until they softened. Vergil didn't understand at first why that gaze hurt so much, until he realized Dante was staring not solely at him, but more-so at what Vergil was doing. There was moisture on his face, something Vergil hadn't even registered until he lifted his free hand, fingers grazing his cheek. Drawing his hand down to look at it, he found the faintest wet streaks of tears on his fingertips. Frowning, Vergil felt his throat grow tight, something unsettling twisting and turning in the pit of his stomach as he realized with horror that he was crying like some sort of overgrown child. "What manner of foolishness is this…?"
"Oh, Vergil…" Dante breathed, something about the way his voice trembled twisting that uncomfortable knot in Vergil's stomach even tighter. He felt like he was suffocating and yet, that at any moment, he might vomit. Staring down at his tear-stained hand, Vergil realized he was shaking, fingers trembling in the yellowy lighting of the kitchen as his other hand gripped the half-empty beer can so tightly he threatened to crush it if he wasn't careful. More than that, his body felt like television static, a weak signal that continued to buzz with nowhere to go. He'd been so caught up in trying to force himself to act normally that he hadn't even realized Dante had moved, his head jerking up at the sudden touch to his shoulder to find his little brother standing beside him. One strong arm tucked around him, pulling him in until his face pressed against the worn cotton of Dante's gray shirt, the other resting against the nape of his neck to hold him in place as Vergil rigid body began to shake uncontrollably. When Dante spoke, his voice was soft, but it felt like sharp needles prickling against Vergil's entire body. "You know damn well mom wouldn't be ashamed of you. A little pissed, sure, but… Even when we broke things, when we fought, it never changed that she loved us."
"I know that, logically. But… Sometimes I wonder if I have brought shame to her memory. Sometimes I think about how she used to scold us for such minor things, and how she begged us not to fight at times-" Vergil attempted, eyes watering as his arms folded against his abdomen, unsure if he were allowed to openly take the contact his brother was offering him at all. His fingers dug into the fabric of his own shirt over his stomach, knuckles turning white from the force of his grip as Dante gave him a tight squeeze. He smelled like burnt leather and cheap soap, but Vergil's stomach turned for different reasons as his brain began to race for every scrap of memory regarding Eva. He felt Dante's grip tighten on him, his brother's body going tense as an odd sound echoed in the depths of the kitchen. For a moment, he thought it had been Dante, the strangled sound reminiscent of some sort of demonic cat yowling at a door. It wasn't until Vergil heard his own voice speaking that he realized the sound had been him. "I- I cannot remember the sound of her voice, Dante. I remember her laugh but... I've forgotten our mother's voice-"
"I barely remember it, too, Verge… It's been a long time, y'know? God, we've gotten old, haven't we?" Dante started, dry laugh echoing in the empty kitchen as he held his older brother during his moment of weakness. Vergil felt awful for making Dante be strong yet again, but he couldn't contain the swell of emotions threatening to drown him in the undertow. That mortifying, weak sound rumbled out of his throat again, Vergil's eyes squeezing closed against Dante's shirt as he felt Dante's chin drop down on top of his head, resting there as the scruff of his beard caught on loose strands of his twin's hair. His voice was strained when it reached Vergil's ears, the palm of his hand cupping the nape of Vergil's neck as he forced himself to recall what he could remember of Eva's voice. It broke Vergil's already shattered heart to realize Dante had been fighting this battle on his own long enough that his words felt almost practiced, as if Dante had told himself these reminders countless times. "But I remember she… she sounded real soft when she spoke to us, like everything she said was a story she was tellin' us to put us down for bed. But she didn't… You know, she didn't have one of those super high-pitched voices some women have, she was real passionate but her voice never squeaked, even when she was scared out of her mind…"
"Dante-" Vergil began, his shaking frame managing to peel away just enough to look up at his younger brother. When Dante looked back, Vergil could see the beginnings of red rimming his twin's eyelids, the glassy sheen to his eyes confirming the tremor that had begun in Dante's voice the moment he'd started talking. Vergil couldn't be certain whether it was the memory of their mother's life or her death that had begun to tear Dante apart as it had Vergil, but the what and why didn't matter. Not as much as Vergil's innate desire to look after Dante, even in some small regard, that had been there since they were children, or perhaps even from the moment they were born. Slowly, Vergil's trembling subsided enough that he could focus on the man in front of him, his uncertainty about accepting the familial touch his brother extended crushed in his need to look after him. Reaching out, Vergil pulled Dante down to his level, arms encircling his twin in a vice grip as the pair clung to each other like a last ditch effort to solidify the ground beneath them. "I truly am… so sorry for all this. Every fight that went too far, for not believing you when you reached out to me all those years ago… for not being strong enough-"
"Vergil, stop it. We were kids, what else could we have done? No amount of strength can prepare an eight year old for what was about to happen that day… Not even dad could've saved the three of us." Dante croaked, even as his head dropped onto Vergil's shoulder. Faintly, Vergil could feel his own residual trembling mirrored in Dante's shoulders, the pair wearing their shared grief like the too-big comforter they often hid under when Eva told them stories from her own childhood. Vergil recalled, as he held onto his twin for dear life, that the comforter was always big enough for the both of them. Just like their mother's love. Even now, he could still somehow remember the cotton's frayed edges, unraveling a little more each and every day because of his little brother's incessant fidgeting. It brought a smile to his face, even through the tears that had been streaming down his face for quite a while.
"Dante… Do you remember the day I yelled at you for picking apart the stitches on that quilt mother made for us? I was so worried you were going to ruin it, I tried to take it from you." Vergil suddenly blurted out, the memory managing to drag Dante out of the spiral that had begun to rapidly spin in his heart. When Dante looked up at him through a face full of tears, he wore the same crooked grin as Vergil, his eyes squinting closed as he began to laugh.
"Off the wall way of changin' the subject, but… yeah. I also remember you lost your front tooth on the coffee table because I tried to take it back, but you had knocked mine out earlier that day by throwing a shoe at me…" Dante replied, laugh growing in volume as Vergil watched him reminisce on their shared childhood. Lifting a hand to his face, Vergil wiped away his tears, Dante mirroring the action as his grin remained plastered across his face. Vergil noted that this time, it managed to reach his brother's eyes. Sniffling, Dante shook his head, sitting up a little straighter from where he knelt by Vergil. "Why? What brought that up? Did you remember something?"
"I did… I remembered the story mother told us about the two twins. Obviously, it was her way of making us get along, but I recall she told us they had been separated for quite some time. And when time seemed to give up on them… They were given a second chance, another opportunity to heal what time had broken." Vergil told him, the story lodged in his mind as clear as day. A shaky breath left Vergil's chest, his eyes watering before he quelled the surge of emotions as old stories ran through his mind. A thousand memories of a time before mistakes, a time before the suffering, danced through his mind like a comforting lullaby. "It's strange how I cannot remember her voice, but I remember every story she ever told us. I remember she made that quilt for us before we were born. I can remember how she sang, but not how it sounded. How much have we lost to time? How much have you lost because of me?"
Understanding flashed across Dante's features, his eyes widening as he considered Vergil's words. Huffing a small laugh, his younger brother shook his head, fully sitting back as he took all his weight off his knees, plopping down onto the tile floor of the kitchen. He drew his knees up with a faint grunt and rested his arms over them, looking up at Vergil the same way he used to when they were children and he was pretending to be patient so that Vergil would play with him. Vergil thought he could suffocate in the wave of nostalgia, the yearning for a different time stronger than ever as it thrummed behind his eyes like a building headache.
"Y'know, you really gotta address that victim complex one day. But I understand, what's passed for me isn't even remotely the same for you. Kinda like a dull ache versus a fresh wound, but ya just keep poking at yours… It's not good for ya, Verge." Dante said, despite the fact that Vergil could clearly still see the tears drying on Dante's face as well. Still, he had to concede. Dante was younger than him— admittedly, only by about five minutes— but he had lived more of his life as his own person than Vergil had. Vergil crossed his arms, looking down at Dante as a half-hearted scowl etched into his features.
"Then what do you supposed I do, instead? A fresh wound requires care, what manner of first aid would you suggest I try?" Vergil questioned, some part of him expecting Dante to tell him to simply get over it. But that wouldn't be like him, as ridiculous and brash as his younger brother could be from time to time. Dante's gaze softened, his smile much smaller, but still present. Lifting a hand, he curled his fingers down, jerking his thumb in the direction of the small door on the opposite side of the room that Vergil knew led to the garage. Vergil had completely forgotten that when he had first arrived, he could sense Nero putzing around out there with his companion. Tilting his head, Vergil raised an eyebrow, prompting Dante to continue.
"Share the memories. Keepin' them bottled up inside of you is no good, 'cause eventually, your memory is gonna miss out on some big details. There's people here for you, relationships waitin' to be repaired and built in the first place. It's one thing to share what you're feeling with me, I'm here for you, you know that. But Vergil, there's a whole rag-tag band of us." Dante told him, earning a low hum from Vergil in response. Slowly, Dante worked up the strength to get out of the floor, using the edge of the small table to pull himself up. Even though he didn't sport any current injuries, he still made that ridiculous grunting sound, sighing as he stretched his arms out. Resting his hands on his hips, he looked down at Vergil, an unfamiliar twinkle to his eyes as he smirked. "Plus, I'm pretty sure your kid would love to hear some stories about his grandma. It'd probably be good for you to share them, and it would benefit him, too. Kid barely knows you as it is, and he know even less about his extended family. Spend some time with him, tell him about mom. I'd say I did it for you, but… There's some things a guy just shouldn't steal from his brother and his nephew, y'know what I mean?"
"Perhaps. Though before I go make a fool of myself by attempting to… bond with Nero, it may be best for me to regain my composure." Vergil finally replied, sighing in defeat as Dante continued to look at him with that sly grin of his. A heavy hand landed on Vergil's shoulder, his body bristling at the contact for a moment before it registered as Dante giving him a reassuring pat. When he met his dear brother's eye, he found that same understanding as before, a wave of calm washing over Vergil's mind as Dante let go of him to head towards the door leading to the garage.
"Ah, don't worry about it. Take your time, okay? When you're ready, come on out here. I'll entertain 'em until you do. Maybe I can even help out, fill in the things you might miss. Can't have you controlling the entire narrative, can I? You might make me look bad in front of my nephew." Dante said, casting a final look back over his shoulder at Vergil before he stepped through the door, pulling it closed behind him as Vergil remained sat at the table. In the newly acquired silence of the kitchen, Vergil dragged the sleeve of his coat across his face, wiping away the remaining tears in various states of drying as he cleared his throat.
There were a lot of things he needed to work on, from processing his past and recovering from his mistakes to learning who he wanted to be. He had a lot left to learn in the realm of existing, of carrying the weight that came with being alive and a free man again. It was going to be quite a long, troublesome road, indeed. But Vergil found himself getting to his feet rather quickly to follow his younger brother out into the garage. While he may not know exactly who he wanted to be these days or how to accomplish it, he knew in his heart of hearts that there was one thing he wanted more than anything.
Vergil wanted his family back, and this was a good a place to start as any. After all, his brother and his son were right outside, waiting for him. How much more time was he going to let be stolen away from him? How many more memories would slip away in the stillness where he refused to move forward? The sound of Dante and Nero's fussing and the musty smell of Nico's cigarettes silently gave him his answer.
"Nero. How much has Dante told you about your grandmother?"