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Waking up in the morning was always a slow process for Dante. He took his sweet time getting up from the bed as he laid down with his eyes closed, picking up the noises from outside with his sharp hearing. Then, after a while, he would slowly open his eyes, adjusting his sight to the light from the rising dawn.
But not this morning.
His ritual was interrupted by a sudden, sweet aroma coming from the kitchen.
Pancakes? His eyes snapped open.
Groggily, he climbed out from the bed and checked the clock: it was 6.45 AM, a bit too early for him to be up. Hell, it was too early for someone to be cooking breakfast!
Feeling curious, Dante made his way downstairs to the kitchen, wracking his sleep-addled brain for who would be making food at this hour. The only person he could think of was Patty. That girl had made a habit of barging into his office, unannounced, and even made herself at home—not like he ever disliked it—but Dante would really appreciate it if she came a bit later.
“Yo, Pipsqueak, isn’t this a bit too early for a visit—”
Dante stopped, frozen. In front of him, trying to flip a slightly burnt pancake but failing miserably, was not the young blonde lady that he was expecting, but a mirror image of himself with flour dusted all over his apron and pants . . . and also his face. Vergil.
“You’re awake,” Vergil said without even looking at him, throwing the ruined pancake away and putting another batch of batter into the pan.
“How can I not be when the whole building smells like pancakes?” he said, surprised to see Vergil, of all people, making pancakes !
Hell, he never knew that his stuck-up twin could even bother to make one! Dante was dumbstruck as he watched Vergil flip the pancake again, and this one was a success!
Slowly, Dante made way to the table, eyes never leaving his brother. The image in front of him felt surreal, but at the same time it tugged at some kind of a memory from the distant past: both of them so young at barely six years old, in the kitchen of their old home early in the morning, making breakfast for their still sleeping parents upstairs. He remembered how much of a mess the kitchen became, with flour all over the place, and how they argued on who had to clean it up. But in the end, just like how they cooked breakfast together, they cleaned up the kitchen together.
Damn, wasn’t that a very long time ago?
Probably the last time they ever attempted to do anything domestic before the fire ripped it away from them.
It felt like a dream, seeing Vergil being so calm and relaxed, doing a very mundane thing instead of being a power-obsessed fool like he was two decades ago. If his younger self could see this, he’d whip out Ebony and Ivory and start calling Vergil an impostor sent by the denizens of hell to trick him again .
Thank goodness, he wasn’t.
“Would you mind setting the table or pouring us some drinks instead of gawking behind my back like a buffoon, little brother?” Vergil called out, pulling Dante from his musing.
“Don’t be so snappy so early in the morning, Verge, or you’re gonna ruin that perfect lil’ pancake of yours,” Dante said as he went to the countertop, taking two mugs to make them both coffee.
The twins sat at the dining table together after Vergil finished cooking his last batch of pancakes. Dante was already grinning like a kid, taking a stack of pancakes onto his plate, which earned him a glare from his elder twin. He took the butter and honey, but then Dante’s brows knitted when he couldn’t find the important ingredient for his meal.
“Hey Verge, where are the strawberries?”
“We don’t have any.”
“What?! What do you mean, we don’t have any? I thought they were in the fridge!”
“The strawberries won’t stock themselves if you keep on eating them, Dante. Or have you forgotten about that?”
Frowning, Dante took a bite of the pancake. Oh! His eyes went wide as the flavour burst in his mouth. “Holy shit, Verge! This is good!”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full. You’re acting like a kid.”
Dante took another bite, ignoring Vergil’s remark. “Damn, Nero would love this—” He paused, a knowing smirk appearing as he eyed his older brother. “You plan to make this when the kid visits, do you?”
“That is none of your business.” A faint tinge of red appeared on Vergil’s cheeks.
“Aw, Vergil. Trying to win your son’s heart, huh?” Dante teased.
Vergil glared at him as he sipped his coffee, a warning for Dante to stop. Dante chuckled to himself before taking another bite of his pancakes. To be honest, it was kind of entertaining seeing Vergil trying to become a father to his adult son. It was painfully awkward at first, with both father and son not knowing how to approach one another without them ending up in a verbal or physical fight. It couldn’t be helped with the whole wound still being fresh on Nero’s end, and Vergil was just . . . Well, Vergil. But thankfully, they worked it out in the end—with the help of Dante, of course.
Dante still couldn’t believe any of this was real, that his brother was back and alive, or that he got to be the uncle that Nero deserves.
“What’s the matter, Dante? You’re not eating your food.” A faint concern flashed through Vergil’s eyes, an expression that Dante was still getting used to seeing.
“Oh, nothing big. It’s just nothing, Verge.” Dante smiled as he shoved the pancake into his mouth.
It wasn’t that easy for Dante to get used to his brother's presence at home. After living his entire life thinking that he was all alone—undeserving of a family, as he thought himself the cause of his twin’s demise—Dante sometimes thought that all of this was just a dream. That the man who joined him playing pool in the lobby was just someone who looked like him, that this dream version of Vergil was oddly less hostile than the Vergil he knew, one who would never miss an opportunity to stab him. Hell, didn’t Vergil just give him a lecture about their living expenditure? Dante thought Vergil would never spend his breath to argue over mundane things such as their finances.
But no, it wasn’t a dream.
The guy who had just scolded him for eating all of the strawberries was very much his twin, Vergil.
The same Vergil that he had fought on top of Temen-ni-gru.
However, this Vergil was a bit mellow; less angry, more content with his life.
So different and yet similar to the older brother he thought he had lost during the fire when they were eight years old.
Because said brother, when they were young, was very much protective of him. Even when they were at the edge of hell at 19, his priority was to keep his little brother safe, despite him never admitting it aloud.
And this older brother would still protect him, even though they were older and could take care of themselves. This would be proven hours later, when . . .
“You fool! This isn’t the time for you to do a moonwalk in the middle of a fight! Are you trying to be their dinner?!” Vergil sheathed his blade after slicing the Fury that tried to sneak up on Dante, his voice laced with anger.
“Geez, Verge. Come on, I was having fun.” Dante gave a cheeky grin, but he was met with Vergil’s disapproving frown. Okay . . . so he did fuck up and almost became a shishkebab for the demons. He didn’t even expect that sneak attack. Damn, those demons were getting smarter by the day, huh? Dante raised his right hand, seeing no point in denying he slipped up. “Alright, alright. But before you start nagging, I know it was reckless and I’m sorry. And I mean it!” Vergil huffed, and Dante continued, voice lower and more serious, “Thank you for having my back.”
“You pull this stunt again and I swear I’ll just leave you to be their food.”
Dante knew there was no real threat in Vergil’s words. Of course, this wasn’t the first time Vergil had covered his ass. He said he didn’t give a damn, but he was the first to strike when Dante ended up in a pinch. It still surprised Dante though, knowing his brother had his back, but he didn’t mind it. In fact, he was happy about it, and he would do exactly the same if their roles were reversed.
Vergil unsheathed Yamato as he turned around, and sliced open the air to create a portal. “Now, make haste, Dante. We’re already running late.”
“Right back at ya, bro.”
It was midnight and the office was empty. Dante sat at the bar stool, a cheap can of beer in his hand as he stared at nothing. He took a sip and let the bitter taste flow through his throat. As he was about to take another swallow, he heard footsteps approaching and looked up. There, by the railing of the stairs, was Vergil, marching down to probably go to the kitchen.
But instead of going there, he went ahead to where Dante was and took a seat on the stool next to him.
“Have some for me?” Vergil asked.
“I thought you hate this beer because it’s cheap.” Dante handed the can to him as he eyed him carefully. Vergil always refused his offer to drink with him, giving out excuses to escape upstairs. “Why the sudden interest?”
“It’s today,” Vergil said. He didn’t have to provide further information; Dante understood what he meant.
Dante left out a sad smile, “Right. Today’s the day, huh?”
The clock chimed at the stroke of one in the morning. Dante didn’t expect Vergil to remember the date, but of course he would. How could either of them forget the day that they lost everything to the fire?
Silence fell in between them as they drank their beers. Dante chanced a glance at Vergil, who was currently on his second can. Red coloured his pale skin, an immediate effect from the alcohol. Dante wondered if Vergil was about to fall over, knowing how much of a lightweight he was.
And when Vergil got drunk, he would be as open as a book.
The clock ticked in the background, and Dante put the can down.
“You know, I thought you were dead that day,” he began, playing with the rim of the can. “I checked the park when I escaped the house. Thought maybe I could find you there. But the only thing I found was your blood and some pieces of your clothes . . . Don’t remember anything after that other than crying.” He paused, glancing over to Vergil, who had stopped drinking. “Then I remembered mom’s words, so I just changed my name to Tony. It wasn’t that I wanted to, but I had to in order to survive. I started a new life like mom told me to, but it didn’t last long. Bad luck followed wherever I went. People that I grew to care for ended up dying because of me. So why not toss the act and embrace your cursed life?
“And I'm glad I did, because then you found me! I was happy when I saw you, Verge. I really was! Thought that I didn’t have to deal with dad’s mess alone. But you’d changed, bro. You weren’t the brother that I used to know. You kept going on about ‘power this, power that’. Summoned a stupid tower just to get dad’s stupid power, and then you jumped into hell. Leaving me behind, again. I hated you for that.”
Vergil remained still, his can of beer untouched.
“Sure, I had to carry on living—got bills to pay and such—and things were great, business was booming. Thought things couldn’t get any better until I got a mission on that Island . . . ”
There was a heavy pause as Dante took a moment to sip his beer. He didn’t bother to say anything further as they both knew what had happened on Mallet Island.
“You didn’t have a choice, Dante.” When Vergil spoke, Dante turned to him, surprised. “If you hadn’t fought, you would have been killed.”
“I should have noticed the signs.”
“No. I was just an empty husk.”
“No, Vergil. Some parts of you are hard to erase. You’re an honourable warrior. And that part of you was there in that . . . that thing. I should have connected the dots. Should have listened to my instinct the moment I felt something was off when you reacted seeing my half of the amulet. But I didn’t.”
Another heavy pause. Vergil took a sip of his beer.
“I don’t resent you for doing that, Dante. In fact, please forgive me for putting you through it. I . . .” Vergil trailed off. The alcohol was getting to him now. “I admit I was wrong and foolish in my blind pursuit of power. And that caused the people that I care for to suffer because of my actions . . . You, and Nero.”
A faint smile appeared on Dante’s lips. “Heh, it only takes two cans of beer for you to finally admit that?”
The brothers laughed. Dante felt light, as if the weight on his shoulders had been lifted. Ever since that job, Dante never stopped blaming himself for what had happened, so hearing Vergil’s thoughts on the matter soothed the guilt he’d held for years.
“You’re staying for real this time, right?” It was a question, a plea for his brother to stay.
He had his brother back, and he could finally call Nero his nephew. The family he thought was lost was finally in his grasp, and Dante would never let it go.
“What? Planning to get rid of me so soon? Well, good luck with that, little brother. I have no plan to leave.” Vergil replied with a smirk.
Dante brought his right arm over Vergil’s shoulder, and, surprisingly, Vergil didn’t shove it away.
“Glad to have you back . . . Vergil.”