Chapter Text
How long could a person bear with constant, neverending headaches? One would think, hope, that one's own body would try to get a little break here and there from its own burdens.
And maybe that was the case, or maybe not. Neither he nor Lucia knew about this first-hand. Their shared demonic heritage didn't allow them to find it out, to experience it. He'd tried to give her some peace of mind in regards to his well-being as other times before now, but the truth was that he didn't know many other ways to make the pain stop.
—It won't do you any good —she insisted, her voice soft and equally preoccupied.
Dante pretended to calculate one last time all the cons of drinking, letting go a sigh of resignation that fooled her. Once she felt he'd finally changed his mind, she breathed normally and tightly held his hand for a moment.
—Thank you.
The demon hunter offered her a weak look, but one that presented itself as submission to her pledges rather than one that didn't want to continue to talk.
Lucia let go of him, relieved, leaving behind all sorts of beverages and homemade snacks whose sole purpose was to combat Dante's lack of self-preservation and bring back some energy to his tired body.
Once the door closed and he was left alone, the red-coated man decided it was a good time to drink any and all of the hidden alcohol until he passed out. That was, contrary to what his friend kept telling him, the only thing that made all of this bearable. He'd had enough experience with it over the years to prove his point to her, but she'd've refused to accept such an answer no matter what.
…It was hard to get rid of old habits, ones that were so established within oneself…, ones that ironically allowed him to continue living.
They continued to haunt him, those memories. They'd been chasing him since that painfully hot day of his childhood, the one that forced him to part ways with his family.
…Vergil's last visit had left him in a horrible state. It helped for a while to cling himself to that pretty boy - a period too short to heal him well enough, and too long to leave him unscarred. Even now, he still told himself he should've known better - he'd been as naive as Lucia back then to think it could somehow work out.
…He appreciated the companionship of his colleagues. He really did. But just as life continued to prove to him, it was easier to isolate himself, to cage any and all dubious, negative thoughts within himself. It was a burden to carry by oneself, he thought, even if he'd often been the first to offer a hand to anyone who needed it.
…
The flavor had never improved. Dante wondered, as many other times before, if it had anything to do with his mixed bloodline, or if this was the way it was supposed to taste.
…
Why did it have to be so hard to disappear completely?
…
Maybe he should've stayed in hell. In a way, he belonged there.
…
Bottle after bottle, the demon hunter's mind spiraled further down. Even with the loud music he'd put on a while ago, his eyelids felt heavier with every passing hour: that was a good sign. It implied his body hasn't yet gotten fully used to alcohol and passing out was still a possibility.
For a moment, silence surrounded the room, interrupted only by the clicking sounds of eventually emptied glass containers being moved around. Dante gave a strange look to the music player, as if expecting an explanation as to why it'd stopped doing its job. A moment later, guitar and drums. A rhythm too slow to drown his thoughts. A pace he'd forgotten he used to listen at times, one that tore him apart.
As if initiated by an automatic switch of his body, tears quickly began to form. He didn't know why he was crying, nor how to make it stop. Even with an emptied mind, something inside of him tried to suppress these feelings.
…
Sunlight had ended so many hours ago, and yet the red-coated man was still staring at the closed window with the expectation to see something that wasn't a dark blue sky framed in wooden planks. At this point his eyes had lost the ability to focus their sight - their surface had gotten covered in water, the skin around was irritated, and the eyelashes were close enough to announce he was about to lose consciousness.
…
Nothing to worry about. Everything's alright.