DMC Fic update
Yeah...I ended up liking the writing of chapter two--but don't get too hopefull!!!--I might not write three, I'll just keep telling myself that so writing it seems more pleasant. XD
Name: Three Steps Ahead
Chapter: 2 (maybe)
Genre: Devil May Cry 3, Dante/Vergil (Hmm..I have to work on the 'Dante is seme scenario XD)
Warnings(?): Okay, this chapter went from bad to worse. There's repeated counts of incest here... XD M/M kissing in private school uniforms--Yumm-ay.
Summary: Reminiscing the life at home before he left it, Dante descends upon Temen-Ni-Gru, encountering many strange things. Like an unamed girl with two different colored eyes, a Jester, and a three headed dog...but this is just the begining of what he is yet to see. Just before the eve of their reunion, Dante remembers their diffuculties and their pains, their wins and even loses. Being the sons of Sparda isn't always peachy.
Chapter two (Maybe...)
Step Two
He remembered, it was about the age of ten when their mother had died. They’d been home schooled by their incredibly smart mother. At the death of Eva, their father had calmly enrolled them into a private school to see them less. They’d been somehow a constant reminder of his loss-their loss.
When both twins had enrolled into the private school at age ten, it had left them to cope, dealing with other children. Always, they’d been teased about their white hair, so they became distant. When they became distant, it was age eleven. Then they had to get tough.
Somewhere in the good old grade of sixth, the boys became more into bullies then they’d ever been, hitting and playing even crueler, smarter jokes. If they were never apart before, this was definitely a chance to glue to each other even closer. They didn’t have anyone else. That was when Dante had started fighting.
He was clumsy at first, but it seemed he garnered the spirit quickly, possibly in his genes from his dad. He fought more cruelly than any one of the boys, cruelly but crudely. Any chance and opening he got, he would take. Soon, he became an unstoppable beast against any challenger, no boy dared to fight him again.
But attention didn’t stay on wild Dante for long, when frustrated minds turned to quiet, polite Vergil. One day, some way, some how, they had caught him alone in the bathroom while the other twin had been talking to a pretty girl.
They cornered him in a stall just as Dante strolled in, curious as to the noise. Shadows, many of them lingered in the one stall he knew his brother always used. “Vergil!” He cried, starting for the end of the bathroom, but was put to a stop as the stall door flew open, a large, hulky boy flew out with it-hitting the far wall.
Pale eyebrows furrowing, he tried to call his brother’s name again, but heard fighting as it erupted from the stall. Three, bulky kids against long, slender, quick Vergil. His brother ducked as a punch came his way, using his stinging kick to land the boy in a forming pile by the discarded stall door. He was everything Dante was not, the very epitome of finesse, even in his first fight against someone other than Dante, amazingly quick, accurate. Of course he’d never had a real fight before, but Vergil had always watched Dante fight, never helping just to watch his technique with a lofty eye. He’d always been the analyzing type, starting as early as his Cheerio years when he’d count how many pores were in each one. Unfortunately, at the time, he could only count to ten.
The second one came flying at Dante from Vergil’s kick, so he grabbed him, punching his lights out. “That’s for sneaking up on my brother!”
Finishing the last one, Vergil turned, giving him his (developing at the time) withering glare. But then, after looking around at the mess, and the blood splatters on the cuffs of his pant legs, he smiled, albeit coldly and frighteningly, but Dante knew it was all in good fun.
…That was until at that same moment the fleeting smile crossed his brother’s mouth, it faltered as the Priest ran in, shouting in latin, crossing himself at the sight. “What have you done?!” He exclaimed.
Dante frowned, turning, “But father, they tried to corner us and beat us up!”
“No.” Vergil interrupted, “They tried to corner me and beat me up.”
“Enough!” The priest barked. “I will not take liars to my ear! Why look at them, you little monsters-“ They flinched at the words “-Just because you are the sons of the Legendary Knight Sparda, does not mean you can parade around the school, lying and hurting whom ever you like! Your father will hear about this!”
Dante and Vergil wore their first scared look on their faces since they’d been ten.
When they got home that night, they waited for their father to come home in the family room, knowing somehow that he’d heard about the incident. For a long time since their mother died, the two sat in the family room, scared and alone. Dante’s usual cocky attitude faltered, looking at his calmer brother for guidance.
Vergil took his hand into his own, letting him into his welcoming embrace. It reminded Dante of their mother more than Vergil knew. The quieter one nuzzled the top of his brother’s head, breathing in its scent, “It’s going to be okay.” He said quietly, holding his clasped hand tightly in his as Dante’s shoulders began to quake.
Eventually, waiting for their father to return, they fell asleep in a pile of limbs together on the plush couch, Dante wrapped up in Vergil’s arms, face in his chest, with Vergil’s chin resting atop his head.
Late that night the twins were awoken when Dante felt a sharp tug on his arm, only to wake to find their father holding it, seconds later throwing him across the floor. Dante slid across the wood, trying to get up quickly as Sparda grabbed Vergil’s bangs, pulling his face up. “Verge!” He cried.
“Little monsters!” Their father roared, shaking the very house, bringing fear into their hearts again. He lifted his hand to smack Vergil mercilessly across the face with the back of his hand.
Tears found themselves down Dante’s cheeks freely, “Vergil!” He tugged at his father’s arm, but was shaken off violently. “Vergil!” He cried again.
“Silence!” Sparda’s voice boomed again. Vergil tried his best to turn to his brother and give him a reassuring smile.
A few hours later, they were holed up in their room together, nursing scratches, monstrous bruises and welts. Dante held his sprained hand and rested his head on Vergil’s shoulder, sitting against his bed.
Vergil gave a hacking laugh which sounded more like a bloody cough, and an “Ouch.”, Squirming into a more comfortable position. “Wow, that was worse than usual.” He said quietly into his ear over their father’s mad raving downstairs.
Dante closed his eyes tightly, feeling ashamed that he’d started crying.
Vergil tried smiling but found his lip was ripped, “It’s alright, Dante. After all, we can’t die.”
The other twin stayed silent for a moment before whispering something that was barely heard by his brother.
“…It’s getting worse.”
***
Thinking about it all was painful, but it was the only time they’d really been honest with each other…well, maybe not the only time. There’d be other situations, but it hurt even more to think about those. When he’d made it past the deserted train tracks of the open subway he came to a street even worse off than the others, with a tacky neon sign that fizzled and blinked on and off that spelled out: Love Planet.
He snorted and tried to grin, knowing it was where he had to go even without the blue arrow pointing him to it.
Once inside, he saw the bar. It was rundown but still, amusingly had a full rack of booze. Passing it by, he grabbed a dusty bottle of tequila and cracked it open and walked into the main lobby of the abandoned, seedy strip club. He sighed, taking a large swig from the bottle and wincing at the taste, wishing he’d come here when there’d actually been business.
Shrugging, he kicked a broken couch out of the way, took a little detour to the pole, swung around to get it out of his system, and then got the hell out of there.
The back of the club wasn’t any better than the front, in fact, the closer he got to the tower, which now loomed above him menacingly, the worse the carnage got. There was even-Dante had to stop to laugh at this-a trailer truck stuck into the tops of one of the buildings. It made a groaning metal sound every time the wind blew, so he didn’t linger under it for long, moving ahead.
He shivered, getting a chill down his spine as he looked up at Temen-Ni-Gru. He could almost feel Vergil looking down at him as he looked up-if he was even there at all, he reminded himself. Shaking his head, he walked down the empty highway, it was getting dark already. “God, can’t he throw a party in a disco?” He muttered, rubbing the back of his head.
The blue line of paint grew thick until he stood on a giant blue arrow. This made him smile, Vergil always liked playing games, yeah. He looked up again, “Hey you wait for me to start the party, right?!” He yelled up at the tower, he doubted it’d be heard, but he wanted himself to hear it.
Taking his last sip of tequila from the half-empty bottle, he chucked it over to the side somewhere, walking into the tower.
*
After a ridiculous hour of walking he had come upon a demon three headed dog that called itself Cerberus.
Long story short: He killed it.
Insulted it, wiped the floor with it, and then killed it. And when he reached his hand into the freezing, bloody mess between the ice and innards, he’d gotten a cool pair of senchaku, but he liked calling it numb chucks. They were cold to hold in his hand and certainly not his style, so he just threw them over his shoulder into the pool of blackish-red blood for some lucky guy to find it someday.
Who cared, he liked his guns better.
But just as he was about to leave, there was a large crash from the frozen over window from this crazy lady on a bike. Not only did she try to run him over, but then she tried to skewer him on a rocket. Nice.
Well, he had pissed her off; he had that effect on people. “Are you going to the party?” He’d asked her, grinning. He didn’t mind a chick as a traveling buddy. Maybe she even knew where to go.
When she didn’t answer and turned, he tried again, “What's the hurry, didn't ya get an invitation?” He chuckled softly, liking the sound of his own joke. He saw her shake her head as if irritated and then she ditched him.
He shook his head then, shrugging. Thinking about all the things that had disrupted his quiet little life up until now, he realized: Life sucked. “This just keeps getting better and better.” He spat, turning to leave. Maybe if he wandered around enough, he’d end up going the right way.
He frowned, remembering the color of her eyes as he walked out into the hallway. Red and blue.
*
The sword hit the switch with a loud clatter and a spark. The door lifted up all on its own, making Dante lift an irked eyebrow.
“BINGO! That is what the SOMETHING is!” The idiot on the ceiling clamored at him, cheering in his annoying voice. “Remember that kid. Write it down on your hand if you don't trust your head. Ahahahahaha -“
“I see.” He cut the jester off, walking to the doorway, “Still piss me off, though.” He muttered under his voice, disappearing into the darkness ahead.
*
Somehow he’d made it halfway up the tower, walking up the steep path he heard something coming, raising his eyebrow, he tilted his head up. Frowning, he stuck his hand out, grabbing something as it fell out of the sky. He grinned a billion volts, feeling lucky. “Well, well, well. This is my kind of rain. S’not everyday chicks fall from the sky.”
She squirmed in his grasp, hanging upside down over a very steep edge. She wondered how he could just hold her one-handed like that. She pointed her pistol at him with a click, taking off the safety. “Let me go!” She demanded.
“Let you go? You crazy, lady? It’d be a shame.” He laughed, and as he laughed, he took a bullet to the head. Everything went red, and his hand let go of her ankle, sending her plummeting down. He couldn’t hear anything for a moment and then the scraping of metal. He blinked, trying to will the pain away before looking over the side to watch her flip around her rocket launcher and crouch on top of it like a fucking gymnast. “What the hell was that for?!” He yelled down, pissed.
She looked up at him, surprised. But she’d just shot him! She was probably telling herself.
“Here I am,” He gestured to himself, “Trying to help you and you shoot me?!”
She shot him, again, right between the eyes, and he was taken aback. She glared at him, readying herself for an attack, bristled like an angry cat.
He rolled his eyes, spitting the blood and bad taste from his mouth. Alright, he’d had it with this bitch. He turned, waving his hands about, “Whatever! Do what you want.” Walking away, he left her there, not really caring whether or not she rotted on top of that rocket launcher. He was here to find his brother, and he had a feeling their meeting would come soon. The thought made his stomach flop in anticipation.
…Vergil. What would he think when they would finally meet eachother after a year? Would he seem colder? More passionate? More cocky? So many questions arose in his head that he had to shake it to clear it out.
Wiping his mouth of blood and then running it on the wall, he sighed, “Geez, I’m beginning to think I’ve got no luck with women.”
***
Looking back at it now, he’d never had any luck with girls. That led to some embarrassing consequences, of course when he had hit the miraculous peak years of puberty. Ah, this was the age of fifteen.
He looked good, but fought. His anger scared girls, simply enough. Even if they liked hot-headed guys, the other girls would make sure to make it living hell for even looking at him. After, all they couldn’t, the Sparda twins were shunned.
Angry albeit horny, he turned his frustrations to the only other person who knew what it all felt like.
At first it had just been sparring. Vergil suggested that they start sparring again to refine their fighting skills. Dante, of course agreed, he liked a challenge, and Vergil was the only one around.
They were each other’s match.
So, they fought each other, that way they sported multi-hour bruises making Sparda’s crazed mind think he’d beaten them already. Hey, working around a crazy dad, you had to do crazy things. They’d even cracked out the swords their father had given them on their last Christmas together. All together.
At first, they fumbled with them, and were always disarmed easily by one another. Vergil was angry, of course, because he believed Dante to have the advantage over him with a larger sword. But, being the analyzing type he always was, discovered Dante’s weaknesses and openings. Dante was still slow, his cuts and slashes wide, opening up under his arms, and his chest area in an upper slash, his head in a lower one. And his parries…hah, what parries?
That was until the ever-inventing Dante developed a new move one day. That was what Dante was unique for, to make up for his lack of knowledge, he pioneered new knowledge, never letting a disadvantage set him back; especially not against Vergil. The Vergil who would never let him forget it.
The new move he had invented, he had called it the ‘Stinger’. The first time he had tried it on him, it looked so stupid and unsophisticated-but this was Dante we were talking about. As clumsy as it was, it had taken Vergil by utter surprise. And every time he used it, he tried to improve it, but he couldn’t land a blow for one simple reason.
Timing.
He didn’t know the perfect time to use this ingenious move. Until, that is, when Vergil had become so quick with a lunge, he became nervous and thrust back his Stinger. Caught by surprise and unanticipated pain, Vergil was sent flying into the tree with a sickening crack of something he couldn’t name. He only hoped it wasn’t his spine.
Dante dropped Rebellion, mouth open wide. He ran over to his brother, kneeling down, scared he had really killed him this time. They couldn’t die, he told himself…right? “Verge!” He grabbed a hold of his shoulder, fearing the worst.
Vergil let out a wheezing breath that sounded labored, and then laughed, or what sounded like it. He looked up from his bangs, smiling. “You should see the look on your face, idiot.”
Dante punched his shoulder, “Fucking ass! I was worried!”
“Ow, ow! I’m still in pain!” His brother yelped, holding his shoulder in pain, wincing.
Dante looked into his brother’s eyes, serious, “Are you really okay?” He gripped his shoulder tight even though it hurt him. “I just have a broken rib. Nothing that won’t heal in a minute.” He replied helping himself up and refusing support, he limped his pride back inside the house leaving Dante to watch him go.
*
For an hour, Dante haunted the house, refusing to go into the study where he knew Vergil’d be. Guilt from hitting so hard still bothered him, but…they hit each other like that all the time, it was just…
--It was just he thought he’d really killed him this time. Not to mention the feeling that he’d won this match. Like he was one peg above Vergil right now. He figured Vergil would take the embarrassment and use it as fuel to create something against him. He was like that.
He rubbed the back of his neck furiously before making a sound of frustration and heading to the large, wooden doors of the study. He let it creak open, and tiptoed quietly into the room, toward Vergil’s back in the chair.
“What Dante?” He said in an annoyed sigh. Damn, Dante thought to himself, Verge was getting good at this.
“I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“I was fine for an hour now.” He kneeled up and looked over the chair, glaring, “Look, what do you want?” The comment and the glare angered Dante who hadn’t planned on getting into a fight. He took two large strides to the chair, not before shutting the door loudly behind him, gripping the back of the stuffed chair. “What, I can’t be worried about you?!” he demanded.
His brother gave him an irritating grin that proved he knew just about everything. “You’re just feeling guilty, aren’t you?”
Dante growled, shoving him off the chair, making it topple over, then lunging over it. Vergil’s back hit the wall with a thud, and he tried to pry Dante’s hand that grabbed at his shirt collar. “I actually thought you were dead.” He said through bared teeth, as if it explained anything, faces closer than Vergil saw comfortable.
Vergil turned his head so their noses didn’t touch, chuckling, “We can’t die, Dante. Death was never meant for us.”
“How do you know?! Why do you think you’re invincible?!” He yelled.
“Why do you think you aren’t?! You are a son of Sparda! We both are!” He replied.
Dante quieted, then loosened his grip, giving Vergil a bit of relief. “That doesn’t mean anything anymore.” He whispered, eyes downcast.
Vergil looked back at his brother, shaking his head, “I know, you’re frustrated!” He sighed, rubbing his temples as Dante’s hand fell from his collar and slipped down his chest. “It’s screaming from every wound-up nerve in your body.” He said in a matter-of-fact voice, “You could be fighting so much better under different circumstances. When you spar with me, you’re just letting out aggravation, aren’t you?”
He remained silent as to the rhetorical question, glaring steadily at the thick rug they were sitting on; patterns swimming under his gaze as tears spilled down his cheeks. He felt like a pansy for all the crying he’d been doing lately.
His twin let out a soft sigh this time, caressing his tears away. “Dante…” He said softly.
“Nobody understands us.” He replied, “None of the girls will even look at us, none of the guys will talk!” He snarled, punching the floor. Dante looked up, blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “I don’t even know what it’s like…”
“What’s what like?”
“…Kissing.” He mumbled, embarrassed.
Vergil laughed, patting him on the shoulder. Dante drew closer, surprising him as their breaths mingled. Vergil swallowed and smiled nervously, backing up only to hit his head on the wall. His brother’s hand came to rest beside his ear, making him feel trapped.
“Kiss me.” Was the breathless demand.
Vergil tried to move out of the way, mortified by the request. “Are you crazy? No!” But Dante stood his ground, giving a completely serious look. He nuzzled the side of his face with his cheek, running his lips barely across his prominent jaw. “C’mon Verge.” He pleaded softly. Vergil struggled, trying to shove him off, but he was planted in place. “Dante I don’t know why-“
He was cut off as a sudden pair of warm lips closed over his own, stealing the breath from his lungs and the words from his mouth as shock ran down his spine like a jolt of electricity. Finally indignant, Vergil shoved Dante off of himself, horrified and embarrassed beyond words. He’d just kissed…no, Dante had kissed him. “What the hell?!” He barked, shaking his head, he got up and moved to the door.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”
Dante winced as the door slammed behind him, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat.
*
For a week, to everyone’s surprise in school, the twins were separated. In fact, they avoided each other like the plague. They didn’t even show up in the same hallways in passing.
Shocked, the school watched both intently for any weaknesses to strike at them, but none were really found. Vergil was always perfect no matter what, and Dante…well, he was Dante.
Even home life was made even more difficult. It made Dante feel lucky that they lived in a unnecessarily large house for the second time in his life. Vergil preferred to start living in his sanctuary, the study, and Dante just didn’t stay in the house at all, preferring to wander around the outskirts of the city, looking for tougher and scarier opponents to fight. Sometimes they brought knives and guns, sometimes they didn’t; didn’t matter anyway, just spiced up the shuffle.
Coming home one night particularly late, Dante crept into their room, heading for the bathroom. Vergil was already, thankfully asleep in his bed, which surprised him, considering he’d taken to just sleeping in the study now, uniform and all with a book in his lap, finger stuck between page two hundred and this and two hundred and that.
So, Dante crept to the bathroom, no bothering to close the door completely, he never did. To the mirror he went, trying to figure out why the cut slicing down from his brow to his temple hadn’t healed yet. It was a nasty one this time, the kid had lifted up a filthy razor from somewhere during the fight, slashing him from the brow down to the left temple. It had probably gotten infected. With a little care, it’d be fine by tomorrow.
After cleaning and holding in his cries of pain while he used soap, he dried it off and stuck a piece of tape bandage on it. Looking up, he checked his reflection. The image of his twin haunted him, staring back at him in the mirror, Blue-grey eyes laughing at him.
He glared at the reflection, telling it in hind mind to stop making fun of him, but it only mocked him further when Vergil’s icy cold glare shot back at him. Pure, unadulterated feelings brewed and swirled in his stomach, reminding him of the nausea he’d felt before. Guilt at forcing Vergil to do something unwillingly, at ruining their tight bond of trust, anger at Vergil’s demeanor, at his distance, his reaction. And his frustration. God…he wanted to be loved so badly, so badly it didn’t matter anymore where it came from. He craved attention, needed to be held, to be kissed…
He made a noise, smashing his fist into the mirror as it shattered to pieces onto his hands and swirling into the sink.
Blue eyes widened from the gap in the doorway, the figure jumping at the sudden flare of anger from his twin. He felt his heart sink as he realized why he would get angry by just looking at a mirror.
…He looked like him. Exactly alike if you didn’t go into full detail. His featured, darkened, twisted into pain, and then the boy went back quickly to bed before he had to face a pissed sibling.
Panic shot through Dante as he realized he’d broken one of the antique mirrors of the house, counting the consequences from his father. Quickly, he grabbed at all the pieces of glass with his bare hands painfully, placing them on the backing of the mirror as he rushed out of the bathroom to hide the broken mirror under his bed and go hastily to bed.
Seven years of bad luck from a broken mirror. It figured.
Two nights after that, Vergil stood before another mirror, holding his katana. He closed his eyes tightly, grabbing, taking Yamato from its sheath and then…
Slash!
A slight tickle was felt moving down his arm. He opened his eyes watching white locks flutter to the ground. He had on a look of despair, but then one of determination. If that was what it took not to haunt his brother, not to be a carbon copy of him, well--!
*
The next morning Dante entered the kitchen to see Vergil with his back to him, making tea, the spoon tinkling lightly against the sides of the mug. He checked the large bay window for the weather. It was grey outside, storm clouds brewing maliciously above. There were no birds chirping outside, just the raucous caws of crows jabbering from the telephone wires.
He looked to Vergil, who he saw from the corner of his eye turned to him now. He almost dropped his book bag, “What did you do?” He sputtered, in shock.
“What?” Was the slightly sleepy, grumpy reply.
“What did you do? Your…your..”
“I cut my bangs.” He replied simply, turning back to the counter, looking to his program for today. Dante felt a flash of irrational anger, marching over, he spun him back around by the shoulder, “And why’d you do that, huh?!” He couldn’t believe his brother, Vergil had done such a stupid thing.
“Don’t you touch me!” Vergil snapped, placing his mug back on the counter with so much force, the tea splashed over the rim, all over his sleeve and the counter. “I can do whatever I want with my hair, and as a matter of fact, if I don’t want to kiss you, I don’t have to!”
“Vergil!” Dante cried in outrage, as his brother shouldered past him roughly, going to the kitchen stool and lifting his school bag. “I-!”
“Don’t have anything to say about it? Right?” He replied with dripping sarcasm. “Fine, you want me to do it so badly?”
“No it’s-“
Vergil grabbed the front of his uniform cardigan, sealing off his words with a kiss, shoving him roughly against the counter. “Ngh…Vergil, you..” His brother tugged harshly on his tie, teeth biting his lip as Dante cried out in surprise and pain. He used the chance to force his tongue in, growling into the kiss.
Dante pushed his brother away, and they stood there looking at each other, panting, and Dante’s lip bleeding slightly. Vergil gave him a meaningful, angry look and left, front door closing loudly after him. Dante felt his legs weakly give under him, sliding to the floor, wiping his mouth.
*
At school, Dante didn’t even see Vergil. All day, he went around, oblivious to the world around him. He kept on touching his lips, still feeling a sting from his lip. Or maybe he was just imagining it.
Horrible feelings pitted in his gut, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything. It bothered him; it distressed him. Thoughts clouded his mind, making him shift restlessly in his seat at them. Like, why did Vergil cut his hair? Was it out of anger…or repulsion? Did he not want to become like him, is that what it was? Pain shot through his heart and he grabbed at his chest, squeezing his eyes shut.
Dazed, he ran through the hallways on an errand during Math to get a letter for a teacher, sliding down the banister of the stairwell. His tiny black shoelaces got stuck in between the rod ironwork below the wooden hand rest, pitching him forward. He fell head first onto the landing, flailing the whole way down.
He sat up, rubbing his throbbing head. “Oww..”
“Well, that was graceful.” A voice said above him from the stairs. Dante’s head shot up, glaring at the person bothering to talk to him, cheeks coloring. There stood Vergil. His mouth flopped open something akin to a gaping fish, vying for words.
The quiet boy came downstairs, standing just a breadth away. Blue eyes sparkled and Dante’s glare intensified. He was teasing him. Dante closed his eyes and took a deep breath before grabbing at Vergil and pressing him to the wall.
He smirked back, not at all too surprised. “Why did you kiss me?” Dante blurted.
“I should ask you the same question. But the truth is,” He took a calculated breath before continuing, making sure it had just the correct tone “…we don’t really have an answer, do we? Neither of us.”
Dante drew closer, as Vergil surprised him yet again by digging his fingers into the hair on the back of his neck, bringing him forward. Again, lips touched, hesitantly at first-shy. But needy, hungry urges pressed them to kiss harder, reaping what they each wanted from the kiss. Power, domination, more. Vergil’s grip got harder, leaning in for another kiss even as Dante drew away.
“Oh God, why are we doing this?”
He shook his head, stealing another kiss from Dante, fingers running down from the nape of his neck to his shirt, bunching up the fabric in his fist. “Don’t…” He said firmly in between of heated kisses, “…ask any…questions.”
Breath came ragged through their noses; pressed as tightly together as they could. Dante groaned, making little noises of pleasure. Vergil smirked against his lips, pressing harder against his brother.
Next thing he knew, Vergil had escaped, standing next to him. With a last, chaste kiss to the forehead, he was up the stairs, smiling-hair dubiously messy and lips kiss-bruised and red.
Dante huffed in disappointment, head in a tempest that beat against his skull every so often from all that had happened. The seriousness of it all weighed down on him, but the nagging ache in his groin was telling him what was top priority right now. A quick trip to the bathroom was in order. Running down the stairs, he made it a thought to go down the rest of the way without tripping.
*
Stumbling home, with the door closed behind them, they stood in the entrance hall, staring at each other. Sizing each other up, trying to read the other’s mind; and for the thousandth time in his life, he wished he could read Vergil’s mind. “So…” He began, uncertain of what to say at first. “Where do we want to take this? I mean, what do you want?”
“Satisfaction.” Vergil said firmly, drawing closer with a few steps forward. His long, slender fingers pulling him in by his uniform’s blue tie. Dante willingly came, this time he was pressed to the wall, grinning. They were indefinitely, attracted to each other, like a magnet to another, like moths to the flame. This close, he could appreciate the differences between them. Vergil’s jaw was prominent and sharp, running along with a long, elegant neck that you could see even from the uniform. His eyelashes were longer, always were, it brought him back to a time when they were little and slept in the same bed; they would hug in sleep, and his eyelashes gave him butterfly kisses throughout the whole night. The slender fingers undoing his tie were always also long, made for playing piano, he’d never played piano, but he had calluses from his sword already.
The way his shorter bangs barely fell over his forehead really bothered him, but he admitted, it did have its charm. It opened up view into his deep, icy blue eyes. Smiling slightly, he also admitted that Vergil was beautiful. He wasn’t just his twin, he was one of his own-and to a twin, slight differences are vast.
“What are you looking at?” Vergil murmured intimately into his ear, lips caressing the shell of his ear.
“Just you.” He replied with chuckle. This earned him a slight twist, a quirk in Vergil’s lips. A smile. “Then who do you see?” Vergil asked, turning his head to glance over at his brother. “Just you.” He repeated, with a small grin.
“Dante,” He started to say, tilting his head, their lips moving closer to one another’s.
“Do you trust me Vergil?” He sighed, lips brushing with every word. “Ye-“
“What are you two doing?!” An incredulous voiced asked from the doorway.
The two boys had never moved quicker away from each other as their father marched over, enraged. “What are you doing?” He repeated himself, except his voice rose an octave, grabbing Vergil; he had been the more…forward one.
He started to throttle him in his anger, “Why are you two doing this?!” He roared, “You want to be considered stranger than you already are? Your mother…Your mother-“
“Don’t you dare talk about mom!!” Dante bellowed, making Sparda stop and look at him with madness-driven eyes. The look made him want to draw back in fear, but he squared his shoulders, setting his jaw, knowing he was being suicidal. But one thought stopped him from keeping his mouth shut and running away.
…Vergil…he was gonna hurt him…
“I hate you!” He screamed at his father, baiting his anger. Sparda dropped Vergil, snarling, and both boys could feel an eerie heat envelop the room, little sparks lit the corners and danced around the soles of his feet.
Dante closed his eyes for a moment to pray to the God he never acknowledged, and then upon opening them, he smirked to himself, dashing for the spiral staircase. His father tried to grab at him as he ran past him, but he jumped out of the way, over his crouched head, scrambling up the stairs.
He hurried-no-flew up the stair as the old man followed him, howling in rage. Up and up he ran in dizzying circles, terrified out of his life, he’d never talked back to the man and still gotten beat, he just prayed he would survive it. Sparda dove and grabbed his ankles, tugging down.
Yelping in shock, Dante slid a few stairs down on his stomach as claws crawled up his calf, pulling down. He cried out, kicking blindly until his foot connected with a jaw, and he scrambled up the stairs for his life, heart pounding in his throat.
At the top, he hesitated momentarily, and ran to the first door at the end of the long hallway that he could think of. A safe haven of sorts, their room. He could hear murderous footsteps tromp up behind him, so he vaulted across the carpet, faster then he knew he could and down the hallway.
The hallway and doors seemed to stretch on forever, but his goal was the very last one at the end, the door ajar wide and welcoming, like a smiling face. He tripped on the last few steps, sliding into the room, making an impossible turning flip to turn and lock the door just as he saw his father draw closer in the hallway.
Door locked, he let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. Safe at last.
*****************************
To Be (possibly) continued at a later date. Tell me what you think. Also, be loves and give me suggestions.
Name: Three Steps Ahead
Chapter: 2 (maybe)
Genre: Devil May Cry 3, Dante/Vergil (Hmm..I have to work on the 'Dante is seme scenario XD)
Warnings(?): Okay, this chapter went from bad to worse. There's repeated counts of incest here... XD M/M kissing in private school uniforms--Yumm-ay.
Summary: Reminiscing the life at home before he left it, Dante descends upon Temen-Ni-Gru, encountering many strange things. Like an unamed girl with two different colored eyes, a Jester, and a three headed dog...but this is just the begining of what he is yet to see. Just before the eve of their reunion, Dante remembers their diffuculties and their pains, their wins and even loses. Being the sons of Sparda isn't always peachy.
Chapter two (Maybe...)
Step Two
He remembered, it was about the age of ten when their mother had died. They’d been home schooled by their incredibly smart mother. At the death of Eva, their father had calmly enrolled them into a private school to see them less. They’d been somehow a constant reminder of his loss-their loss.
When both twins had enrolled into the private school at age ten, it had left them to cope, dealing with other children. Always, they’d been teased about their white hair, so they became distant. When they became distant, it was age eleven. Then they had to get tough.
Somewhere in the good old grade of sixth, the boys became more into bullies then they’d ever been, hitting and playing even crueler, smarter jokes. If they were never apart before, this was definitely a chance to glue to each other even closer. They didn’t have anyone else. That was when Dante had started fighting.
He was clumsy at first, but it seemed he garnered the spirit quickly, possibly in his genes from his dad. He fought more cruelly than any one of the boys, cruelly but crudely. Any chance and opening he got, he would take. Soon, he became an unstoppable beast against any challenger, no boy dared to fight him again.
But attention didn’t stay on wild Dante for long, when frustrated minds turned to quiet, polite Vergil. One day, some way, some how, they had caught him alone in the bathroom while the other twin had been talking to a pretty girl.
They cornered him in a stall just as Dante strolled in, curious as to the noise. Shadows, many of them lingered in the one stall he knew his brother always used. “Vergil!” He cried, starting for the end of the bathroom, but was put to a stop as the stall door flew open, a large, hulky boy flew out with it-hitting the far wall.
Pale eyebrows furrowing, he tried to call his brother’s name again, but heard fighting as it erupted from the stall. Three, bulky kids against long, slender, quick Vergil. His brother ducked as a punch came his way, using his stinging kick to land the boy in a forming pile by the discarded stall door. He was everything Dante was not, the very epitome of finesse, even in his first fight against someone other than Dante, amazingly quick, accurate. Of course he’d never had a real fight before, but Vergil had always watched Dante fight, never helping just to watch his technique with a lofty eye. He’d always been the analyzing type, starting as early as his Cheerio years when he’d count how many pores were in each one. Unfortunately, at the time, he could only count to ten.
The second one came flying at Dante from Vergil’s kick, so he grabbed him, punching his lights out. “That’s for sneaking up on my brother!”
Finishing the last one, Vergil turned, giving him his (developing at the time) withering glare. But then, after looking around at the mess, and the blood splatters on the cuffs of his pant legs, he smiled, albeit coldly and frighteningly, but Dante knew it was all in good fun.
…That was until at that same moment the fleeting smile crossed his brother’s mouth, it faltered as the Priest ran in, shouting in latin, crossing himself at the sight. “What have you done?!” He exclaimed.
Dante frowned, turning, “But father, they tried to corner us and beat us up!”
“No.” Vergil interrupted, “They tried to corner me and beat me up.”
“Enough!” The priest barked. “I will not take liars to my ear! Why look at them, you little monsters-“ They flinched at the words “-Just because you are the sons of the Legendary Knight Sparda, does not mean you can parade around the school, lying and hurting whom ever you like! Your father will hear about this!”
Dante and Vergil wore their first scared look on their faces since they’d been ten.
When they got home that night, they waited for their father to come home in the family room, knowing somehow that he’d heard about the incident. For a long time since their mother died, the two sat in the family room, scared and alone. Dante’s usual cocky attitude faltered, looking at his calmer brother for guidance.
Vergil took his hand into his own, letting him into his welcoming embrace. It reminded Dante of their mother more than Vergil knew. The quieter one nuzzled the top of his brother’s head, breathing in its scent, “It’s going to be okay.” He said quietly, holding his clasped hand tightly in his as Dante’s shoulders began to quake.
Eventually, waiting for their father to return, they fell asleep in a pile of limbs together on the plush couch, Dante wrapped up in Vergil’s arms, face in his chest, with Vergil’s chin resting atop his head.
Late that night the twins were awoken when Dante felt a sharp tug on his arm, only to wake to find their father holding it, seconds later throwing him across the floor. Dante slid across the wood, trying to get up quickly as Sparda grabbed Vergil’s bangs, pulling his face up. “Verge!” He cried.
“Little monsters!” Their father roared, shaking the very house, bringing fear into their hearts again. He lifted his hand to smack Vergil mercilessly across the face with the back of his hand.
Tears found themselves down Dante’s cheeks freely, “Vergil!” He tugged at his father’s arm, but was shaken off violently. “Vergil!” He cried again.
“Silence!” Sparda’s voice boomed again. Vergil tried his best to turn to his brother and give him a reassuring smile.
A few hours later, they were holed up in their room together, nursing scratches, monstrous bruises and welts. Dante held his sprained hand and rested his head on Vergil’s shoulder, sitting against his bed.
Vergil gave a hacking laugh which sounded more like a bloody cough, and an “Ouch.”, Squirming into a more comfortable position. “Wow, that was worse than usual.” He said quietly into his ear over their father’s mad raving downstairs.
Dante closed his eyes tightly, feeling ashamed that he’d started crying.
Vergil tried smiling but found his lip was ripped, “It’s alright, Dante. After all, we can’t die.”
The other twin stayed silent for a moment before whispering something that was barely heard by his brother.
“…It’s getting worse.”
***
Thinking about it all was painful, but it was the only time they’d really been honest with each other…well, maybe not the only time. There’d be other situations, but it hurt even more to think about those. When he’d made it past the deserted train tracks of the open subway he came to a street even worse off than the others, with a tacky neon sign that fizzled and blinked on and off that spelled out: Love Planet.
He snorted and tried to grin, knowing it was where he had to go even without the blue arrow pointing him to it.
Once inside, he saw the bar. It was rundown but still, amusingly had a full rack of booze. Passing it by, he grabbed a dusty bottle of tequila and cracked it open and walked into the main lobby of the abandoned, seedy strip club. He sighed, taking a large swig from the bottle and wincing at the taste, wishing he’d come here when there’d actually been business.
Shrugging, he kicked a broken couch out of the way, took a little detour to the pole, swung around to get it out of his system, and then got the hell out of there.
The back of the club wasn’t any better than the front, in fact, the closer he got to the tower, which now loomed above him menacingly, the worse the carnage got. There was even-Dante had to stop to laugh at this-a trailer truck stuck into the tops of one of the buildings. It made a groaning metal sound every time the wind blew, so he didn’t linger under it for long, moving ahead.
He shivered, getting a chill down his spine as he looked up at Temen-Ni-Gru. He could almost feel Vergil looking down at him as he looked up-if he was even there at all, he reminded himself. Shaking his head, he walked down the empty highway, it was getting dark already. “God, can’t he throw a party in a disco?” He muttered, rubbing the back of his head.
The blue line of paint grew thick until he stood on a giant blue arrow. This made him smile, Vergil always liked playing games, yeah. He looked up again, “Hey you wait for me to start the party, right?!” He yelled up at the tower, he doubted it’d be heard, but he wanted himself to hear it.
Taking his last sip of tequila from the half-empty bottle, he chucked it over to the side somewhere, walking into the tower.
*
After a ridiculous hour of walking he had come upon a demon three headed dog that called itself Cerberus.
Long story short: He killed it.
Insulted it, wiped the floor with it, and then killed it. And when he reached his hand into the freezing, bloody mess between the ice and innards, he’d gotten a cool pair of senchaku, but he liked calling it numb chucks. They were cold to hold in his hand and certainly not his style, so he just threw them over his shoulder into the pool of blackish-red blood for some lucky guy to find it someday.
Who cared, he liked his guns better.
But just as he was about to leave, there was a large crash from the frozen over window from this crazy lady on a bike. Not only did she try to run him over, but then she tried to skewer him on a rocket. Nice.
Well, he had pissed her off; he had that effect on people. “Are you going to the party?” He’d asked her, grinning. He didn’t mind a chick as a traveling buddy. Maybe she even knew where to go.
When she didn’t answer and turned, he tried again, “What's the hurry, didn't ya get an invitation?” He chuckled softly, liking the sound of his own joke. He saw her shake her head as if irritated and then she ditched him.
He shook his head then, shrugging. Thinking about all the things that had disrupted his quiet little life up until now, he realized: Life sucked. “This just keeps getting better and better.” He spat, turning to leave. Maybe if he wandered around enough, he’d end up going the right way.
He frowned, remembering the color of her eyes as he walked out into the hallway. Red and blue.
*
The sword hit the switch with a loud clatter and a spark. The door lifted up all on its own, making Dante lift an irked eyebrow.
“BINGO! That is what the SOMETHING is!” The idiot on the ceiling clamored at him, cheering in his annoying voice. “Remember that kid. Write it down on your hand if you don't trust your head. Ahahahahaha -“
“I see.” He cut the jester off, walking to the doorway, “Still piss me off, though.” He muttered under his voice, disappearing into the darkness ahead.
*
Somehow he’d made it halfway up the tower, walking up the steep path he heard something coming, raising his eyebrow, he tilted his head up. Frowning, he stuck his hand out, grabbing something as it fell out of the sky. He grinned a billion volts, feeling lucky. “Well, well, well. This is my kind of rain. S’not everyday chicks fall from the sky.”
She squirmed in his grasp, hanging upside down over a very steep edge. She wondered how he could just hold her one-handed like that. She pointed her pistol at him with a click, taking off the safety. “Let me go!” She demanded.
“Let you go? You crazy, lady? It’d be a shame.” He laughed, and as he laughed, he took a bullet to the head. Everything went red, and his hand let go of her ankle, sending her plummeting down. He couldn’t hear anything for a moment and then the scraping of metal. He blinked, trying to will the pain away before looking over the side to watch her flip around her rocket launcher and crouch on top of it like a fucking gymnast. “What the hell was that for?!” He yelled down, pissed.
She looked up at him, surprised. But she’d just shot him! She was probably telling herself.
“Here I am,” He gestured to himself, “Trying to help you and you shoot me?!”
She shot him, again, right between the eyes, and he was taken aback. She glared at him, readying herself for an attack, bristled like an angry cat.
He rolled his eyes, spitting the blood and bad taste from his mouth. Alright, he’d had it with this bitch. He turned, waving his hands about, “Whatever! Do what you want.” Walking away, he left her there, not really caring whether or not she rotted on top of that rocket launcher. He was here to find his brother, and he had a feeling their meeting would come soon. The thought made his stomach flop in anticipation.
…Vergil. What would he think when they would finally meet eachother after a year? Would he seem colder? More passionate? More cocky? So many questions arose in his head that he had to shake it to clear it out.
Wiping his mouth of blood and then running it on the wall, he sighed, “Geez, I’m beginning to think I’ve got no luck with women.”
***
Looking back at it now, he’d never had any luck with girls. That led to some embarrassing consequences, of course when he had hit the miraculous peak years of puberty. Ah, this was the age of fifteen.
He looked good, but fought. His anger scared girls, simply enough. Even if they liked hot-headed guys, the other girls would make sure to make it living hell for even looking at him. After, all they couldn’t, the Sparda twins were shunned.
Angry albeit horny, he turned his frustrations to the only other person who knew what it all felt like.
At first it had just been sparring. Vergil suggested that they start sparring again to refine their fighting skills. Dante, of course agreed, he liked a challenge, and Vergil was the only one around.
They were each other’s match.
So, they fought each other, that way they sported multi-hour bruises making Sparda’s crazed mind think he’d beaten them already. Hey, working around a crazy dad, you had to do crazy things. They’d even cracked out the swords their father had given them on their last Christmas together. All together.
At first, they fumbled with them, and were always disarmed easily by one another. Vergil was angry, of course, because he believed Dante to have the advantage over him with a larger sword. But, being the analyzing type he always was, discovered Dante’s weaknesses and openings. Dante was still slow, his cuts and slashes wide, opening up under his arms, and his chest area in an upper slash, his head in a lower one. And his parries…hah, what parries?
That was until the ever-inventing Dante developed a new move one day. That was what Dante was unique for, to make up for his lack of knowledge, he pioneered new knowledge, never letting a disadvantage set him back; especially not against Vergil. The Vergil who would never let him forget it.
The new move he had invented, he had called it the ‘Stinger’. The first time he had tried it on him, it looked so stupid and unsophisticated-but this was Dante we were talking about. As clumsy as it was, it had taken Vergil by utter surprise. And every time he used it, he tried to improve it, but he couldn’t land a blow for one simple reason.
Timing.
He didn’t know the perfect time to use this ingenious move. Until, that is, when Vergil had become so quick with a lunge, he became nervous and thrust back his Stinger. Caught by surprise and unanticipated pain, Vergil was sent flying into the tree with a sickening crack of something he couldn’t name. He only hoped it wasn’t his spine.
Dante dropped Rebellion, mouth open wide. He ran over to his brother, kneeling down, scared he had really killed him this time. They couldn’t die, he told himself…right? “Verge!” He grabbed a hold of his shoulder, fearing the worst.
Vergil let out a wheezing breath that sounded labored, and then laughed, or what sounded like it. He looked up from his bangs, smiling. “You should see the look on your face, idiot.”
Dante punched his shoulder, “Fucking ass! I was worried!”
“Ow, ow! I’m still in pain!” His brother yelped, holding his shoulder in pain, wincing.
Dante looked into his brother’s eyes, serious, “Are you really okay?” He gripped his shoulder tight even though it hurt him. “I just have a broken rib. Nothing that won’t heal in a minute.” He replied helping himself up and refusing support, he limped his pride back inside the house leaving Dante to watch him go.
*
For an hour, Dante haunted the house, refusing to go into the study where he knew Vergil’d be. Guilt from hitting so hard still bothered him, but…they hit each other like that all the time, it was just…
--It was just he thought he’d really killed him this time. Not to mention the feeling that he’d won this match. Like he was one peg above Vergil right now. He figured Vergil would take the embarrassment and use it as fuel to create something against him. He was like that.
He rubbed the back of his neck furiously before making a sound of frustration and heading to the large, wooden doors of the study. He let it creak open, and tiptoed quietly into the room, toward Vergil’s back in the chair.
“What Dante?” He said in an annoyed sigh. Damn, Dante thought to himself, Verge was getting good at this.
“I wanted to see if you were okay.”
“I was fine for an hour now.” He kneeled up and looked over the chair, glaring, “Look, what do you want?” The comment and the glare angered Dante who hadn’t planned on getting into a fight. He took two large strides to the chair, not before shutting the door loudly behind him, gripping the back of the stuffed chair. “What, I can’t be worried about you?!” he demanded.
His brother gave him an irritating grin that proved he knew just about everything. “You’re just feeling guilty, aren’t you?”
Dante growled, shoving him off the chair, making it topple over, then lunging over it. Vergil’s back hit the wall with a thud, and he tried to pry Dante’s hand that grabbed at his shirt collar. “I actually thought you were dead.” He said through bared teeth, as if it explained anything, faces closer than Vergil saw comfortable.
Vergil turned his head so their noses didn’t touch, chuckling, “We can’t die, Dante. Death was never meant for us.”
“How do you know?! Why do you think you’re invincible?!” He yelled.
“Why do you think you aren’t?! You are a son of Sparda! We both are!” He replied.
Dante quieted, then loosened his grip, giving Vergil a bit of relief. “That doesn’t mean anything anymore.” He whispered, eyes downcast.
Vergil looked back at his brother, shaking his head, “I know, you’re frustrated!” He sighed, rubbing his temples as Dante’s hand fell from his collar and slipped down his chest. “It’s screaming from every wound-up nerve in your body.” He said in a matter-of-fact voice, “You could be fighting so much better under different circumstances. When you spar with me, you’re just letting out aggravation, aren’t you?”
He remained silent as to the rhetorical question, glaring steadily at the thick rug they were sitting on; patterns swimming under his gaze as tears spilled down his cheeks. He felt like a pansy for all the crying he’d been doing lately.
His twin let out a soft sigh this time, caressing his tears away. “Dante…” He said softly.
“Nobody understands us.” He replied, “None of the girls will even look at us, none of the guys will talk!” He snarled, punching the floor. Dante looked up, blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “I don’t even know what it’s like…”
“What’s what like?”
“…Kissing.” He mumbled, embarrassed.
Vergil laughed, patting him on the shoulder. Dante drew closer, surprising him as their breaths mingled. Vergil swallowed and smiled nervously, backing up only to hit his head on the wall. His brother’s hand came to rest beside his ear, making him feel trapped.
“Kiss me.” Was the breathless demand.
Vergil tried to move out of the way, mortified by the request. “Are you crazy? No!” But Dante stood his ground, giving a completely serious look. He nuzzled the side of his face with his cheek, running his lips barely across his prominent jaw. “C’mon Verge.” He pleaded softly. Vergil struggled, trying to shove him off, but he was planted in place. “Dante I don’t know why-“
He was cut off as a sudden pair of warm lips closed over his own, stealing the breath from his lungs and the words from his mouth as shock ran down his spine like a jolt of electricity. Finally indignant, Vergil shoved Dante off of himself, horrified and embarrassed beyond words. He’d just kissed…no, Dante had kissed him. “What the hell?!” He barked, shaking his head, he got up and moved to the door.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”
Dante winced as the door slammed behind him, feeling bile rise in the back of his throat.
*
For a week, to everyone’s surprise in school, the twins were separated. In fact, they avoided each other like the plague. They didn’t even show up in the same hallways in passing.
Shocked, the school watched both intently for any weaknesses to strike at them, but none were really found. Vergil was always perfect no matter what, and Dante…well, he was Dante.
Even home life was made even more difficult. It made Dante feel lucky that they lived in a unnecessarily large house for the second time in his life. Vergil preferred to start living in his sanctuary, the study, and Dante just didn’t stay in the house at all, preferring to wander around the outskirts of the city, looking for tougher and scarier opponents to fight. Sometimes they brought knives and guns, sometimes they didn’t; didn’t matter anyway, just spiced up the shuffle.
Coming home one night particularly late, Dante crept into their room, heading for the bathroom. Vergil was already, thankfully asleep in his bed, which surprised him, considering he’d taken to just sleeping in the study now, uniform and all with a book in his lap, finger stuck between page two hundred and this and two hundred and that.
So, Dante crept to the bathroom, no bothering to close the door completely, he never did. To the mirror he went, trying to figure out why the cut slicing down from his brow to his temple hadn’t healed yet. It was a nasty one this time, the kid had lifted up a filthy razor from somewhere during the fight, slashing him from the brow down to the left temple. It had probably gotten infected. With a little care, it’d be fine by tomorrow.
After cleaning and holding in his cries of pain while he used soap, he dried it off and stuck a piece of tape bandage on it. Looking up, he checked his reflection. The image of his twin haunted him, staring back at him in the mirror, Blue-grey eyes laughing at him.
He glared at the reflection, telling it in hind mind to stop making fun of him, but it only mocked him further when Vergil’s icy cold glare shot back at him. Pure, unadulterated feelings brewed and swirled in his stomach, reminding him of the nausea he’d felt before. Guilt at forcing Vergil to do something unwillingly, at ruining their tight bond of trust, anger at Vergil’s demeanor, at his distance, his reaction. And his frustration. God…he wanted to be loved so badly, so badly it didn’t matter anymore where it came from. He craved attention, needed to be held, to be kissed…
He made a noise, smashing his fist into the mirror as it shattered to pieces onto his hands and swirling into the sink.
Blue eyes widened from the gap in the doorway, the figure jumping at the sudden flare of anger from his twin. He felt his heart sink as he realized why he would get angry by just looking at a mirror.
…He looked like him. Exactly alike if you didn’t go into full detail. His featured, darkened, twisted into pain, and then the boy went back quickly to bed before he had to face a pissed sibling.
Panic shot through Dante as he realized he’d broken one of the antique mirrors of the house, counting the consequences from his father. Quickly, he grabbed at all the pieces of glass with his bare hands painfully, placing them on the backing of the mirror as he rushed out of the bathroom to hide the broken mirror under his bed and go hastily to bed.
Seven years of bad luck from a broken mirror. It figured.
Two nights after that, Vergil stood before another mirror, holding his katana. He closed his eyes tightly, grabbing, taking Yamato from its sheath and then…
Slash!
A slight tickle was felt moving down his arm. He opened his eyes watching white locks flutter to the ground. He had on a look of despair, but then one of determination. If that was what it took not to haunt his brother, not to be a carbon copy of him, well--!
*
The next morning Dante entered the kitchen to see Vergil with his back to him, making tea, the spoon tinkling lightly against the sides of the mug. He checked the large bay window for the weather. It was grey outside, storm clouds brewing maliciously above. There were no birds chirping outside, just the raucous caws of crows jabbering from the telephone wires.
He looked to Vergil, who he saw from the corner of his eye turned to him now. He almost dropped his book bag, “What did you do?” He sputtered, in shock.
“What?” Was the slightly sleepy, grumpy reply.
“What did you do? Your…your..”
“I cut my bangs.” He replied simply, turning back to the counter, looking to his program for today. Dante felt a flash of irrational anger, marching over, he spun him back around by the shoulder, “And why’d you do that, huh?!” He couldn’t believe his brother, Vergil had done such a stupid thing.
“Don’t you touch me!” Vergil snapped, placing his mug back on the counter with so much force, the tea splashed over the rim, all over his sleeve and the counter. “I can do whatever I want with my hair, and as a matter of fact, if I don’t want to kiss you, I don’t have to!”
“Vergil!” Dante cried in outrage, as his brother shouldered past him roughly, going to the kitchen stool and lifting his school bag. “I-!”
“Don’t have anything to say about it? Right?” He replied with dripping sarcasm. “Fine, you want me to do it so badly?”
“No it’s-“
Vergil grabbed the front of his uniform cardigan, sealing off his words with a kiss, shoving him roughly against the counter. “Ngh…Vergil, you..” His brother tugged harshly on his tie, teeth biting his lip as Dante cried out in surprise and pain. He used the chance to force his tongue in, growling into the kiss.
Dante pushed his brother away, and they stood there looking at each other, panting, and Dante’s lip bleeding slightly. Vergil gave him a meaningful, angry look and left, front door closing loudly after him. Dante felt his legs weakly give under him, sliding to the floor, wiping his mouth.
*
At school, Dante didn’t even see Vergil. All day, he went around, oblivious to the world around him. He kept on touching his lips, still feeling a sting from his lip. Or maybe he was just imagining it.
Horrible feelings pitted in his gut, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything. It bothered him; it distressed him. Thoughts clouded his mind, making him shift restlessly in his seat at them. Like, why did Vergil cut his hair? Was it out of anger…or repulsion? Did he not want to become like him, is that what it was? Pain shot through his heart and he grabbed at his chest, squeezing his eyes shut.
Dazed, he ran through the hallways on an errand during Math to get a letter for a teacher, sliding down the banister of the stairwell. His tiny black shoelaces got stuck in between the rod ironwork below the wooden hand rest, pitching him forward. He fell head first onto the landing, flailing the whole way down.
He sat up, rubbing his throbbing head. “Oww..”
“Well, that was graceful.” A voice said above him from the stairs. Dante’s head shot up, glaring at the person bothering to talk to him, cheeks coloring. There stood Vergil. His mouth flopped open something akin to a gaping fish, vying for words.
The quiet boy came downstairs, standing just a breadth away. Blue eyes sparkled and Dante’s glare intensified. He was teasing him. Dante closed his eyes and took a deep breath before grabbing at Vergil and pressing him to the wall.
He smirked back, not at all too surprised. “Why did you kiss me?” Dante blurted.
“I should ask you the same question. But the truth is,” He took a calculated breath before continuing, making sure it had just the correct tone “…we don’t really have an answer, do we? Neither of us.”
Dante drew closer, as Vergil surprised him yet again by digging his fingers into the hair on the back of his neck, bringing him forward. Again, lips touched, hesitantly at first-shy. But needy, hungry urges pressed them to kiss harder, reaping what they each wanted from the kiss. Power, domination, more. Vergil’s grip got harder, leaning in for another kiss even as Dante drew away.
“Oh God, why are we doing this?”
He shook his head, stealing another kiss from Dante, fingers running down from the nape of his neck to his shirt, bunching up the fabric in his fist. “Don’t…” He said firmly in between of heated kisses, “…ask any…questions.”
Breath came ragged through their noses; pressed as tightly together as they could. Dante groaned, making little noises of pleasure. Vergil smirked against his lips, pressing harder against his brother.
Next thing he knew, Vergil had escaped, standing next to him. With a last, chaste kiss to the forehead, he was up the stairs, smiling-hair dubiously messy and lips kiss-bruised and red.
Dante huffed in disappointment, head in a tempest that beat against his skull every so often from all that had happened. The seriousness of it all weighed down on him, but the nagging ache in his groin was telling him what was top priority right now. A quick trip to the bathroom was in order. Running down the stairs, he made it a thought to go down the rest of the way without tripping.
*
Stumbling home, with the door closed behind them, they stood in the entrance hall, staring at each other. Sizing each other up, trying to read the other’s mind; and for the thousandth time in his life, he wished he could read Vergil’s mind. “So…” He began, uncertain of what to say at first. “Where do we want to take this? I mean, what do you want?”
“Satisfaction.” Vergil said firmly, drawing closer with a few steps forward. His long, slender fingers pulling him in by his uniform’s blue tie. Dante willingly came, this time he was pressed to the wall, grinning. They were indefinitely, attracted to each other, like a magnet to another, like moths to the flame. This close, he could appreciate the differences between them. Vergil’s jaw was prominent and sharp, running along with a long, elegant neck that you could see even from the uniform. His eyelashes were longer, always were, it brought him back to a time when they were little and slept in the same bed; they would hug in sleep, and his eyelashes gave him butterfly kisses throughout the whole night. The slender fingers undoing his tie were always also long, made for playing piano, he’d never played piano, but he had calluses from his sword already.
The way his shorter bangs barely fell over his forehead really bothered him, but he admitted, it did have its charm. It opened up view into his deep, icy blue eyes. Smiling slightly, he also admitted that Vergil was beautiful. He wasn’t just his twin, he was one of his own-and to a twin, slight differences are vast.
“What are you looking at?” Vergil murmured intimately into his ear, lips caressing the shell of his ear.
“Just you.” He replied with chuckle. This earned him a slight twist, a quirk in Vergil’s lips. A smile. “Then who do you see?” Vergil asked, turning his head to glance over at his brother. “Just you.” He repeated, with a small grin.
“Dante,” He started to say, tilting his head, their lips moving closer to one another’s.
“Do you trust me Vergil?” He sighed, lips brushing with every word. “Ye-“
“What are you two doing?!” An incredulous voiced asked from the doorway.
The two boys had never moved quicker away from each other as their father marched over, enraged. “What are you doing?” He repeated himself, except his voice rose an octave, grabbing Vergil; he had been the more…forward one.
He started to throttle him in his anger, “Why are you two doing this?!” He roared, “You want to be considered stranger than you already are? Your mother…Your mother-“
“Don’t you dare talk about mom!!” Dante bellowed, making Sparda stop and look at him with madness-driven eyes. The look made him want to draw back in fear, but he squared his shoulders, setting his jaw, knowing he was being suicidal. But one thought stopped him from keeping his mouth shut and running away.
…Vergil…he was gonna hurt him…
“I hate you!” He screamed at his father, baiting his anger. Sparda dropped Vergil, snarling, and both boys could feel an eerie heat envelop the room, little sparks lit the corners and danced around the soles of his feet.
Dante closed his eyes for a moment to pray to the God he never acknowledged, and then upon opening them, he smirked to himself, dashing for the spiral staircase. His father tried to grab at him as he ran past him, but he jumped out of the way, over his crouched head, scrambling up the stairs.
He hurried-no-flew up the stair as the old man followed him, howling in rage. Up and up he ran in dizzying circles, terrified out of his life, he’d never talked back to the man and still gotten beat, he just prayed he would survive it. Sparda dove and grabbed his ankles, tugging down.
Yelping in shock, Dante slid a few stairs down on his stomach as claws crawled up his calf, pulling down. He cried out, kicking blindly until his foot connected with a jaw, and he scrambled up the stairs for his life, heart pounding in his throat.
At the top, he hesitated momentarily, and ran to the first door at the end of the long hallway that he could think of. A safe haven of sorts, their room. He could hear murderous footsteps tromp up behind him, so he vaulted across the carpet, faster then he knew he could and down the hallway.
The hallway and doors seemed to stretch on forever, but his goal was the very last one at the end, the door ajar wide and welcoming, like a smiling face. He tripped on the last few steps, sliding into the room, making an impossible turning flip to turn and lock the door just as he saw his father draw closer in the hallway.
Door locked, he let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. Safe at last.
*****************************
To Be (possibly) continued at a later date. Tell me what you think. Also, be loves and give me suggestions.