Thinking
Dante looked around himself. The only things he saw were the jukebox, the billiard table and the desk with the chair. It was almost like the shop hadn't been destroyed just some time ago.
He had called it "Devil May Cry"; he had thought it was an appropriate name.
He sighed, moving some steps forward. He had been contacted by Lady, who told him that she had located the last demons who had survived the events at the tower and that she had eliminated them.
The city was free again; still, Dante wished it wasn't. Haunting and fighting didn't make he think, didn't make he remember.
First by cleaning the city from the remained demons, then with the reconstruction of his shop, he had been able to distract himself. However, now he couldn't run anymore; the weight of the previous events were graving on his shoulder.
Vergil wasn't anymore.
Only in that moment he became fully aware of that. It wasn't like Vergil had never disappeared for a long period of time – they hadn't seen each other for a whole year- but that time it was different. He wasn't going to come back; he wasn't going to show himself ever again.
He had been so close, so damn close to taking his hand but no, his twin had to be stubborn till the end. And what did he get? Absolutely nothing.
Even if he was alive after the fall, how many chances did he have, in the demon world? He was strong, Dante couldn't deny it, after getting his ass kicked so many times by him, but was it enough?
He had almost reached him, but it was too late. If only he had moved faster...
Then what? Even if he had been able to keep him from falling, he couldn't imagine them getting close again. Too many things had happened; Vergil would have probably come out with another stupid plan to "get more power" - as he would have said- and he would have to stop him again.
He would have never been able to make him change his mind; he had tried so many times, when it was obvious that they were breaking apart, foolishly thinking that they could have still worked things out together, and he had failed, so why things would have gotten differently that time?
It was ironic: he had wanted to be finally able to best his undefeatable brother so bad during those years, and now he had finally done it, but at what cost?
No matter how much he had craved it, no matter how much he had felt excited, when he received Vergil's invitation to the tower, looking forward to having a good time and finally beating him, victory hadn't felt as good as he had imagined; it had felt empty.
He was alone, now; the last survivor of the family. Even if he knew that it had been his twin's choice to fall from the cliff, he couldn't get out of his mind the thought that it was also his fault; maybe, subconsciously, he didn't really want to save him. Maybe he hadn't reached him on purpose.
He was blaming himself for something he didn't have the power to stop, and that was making him feel angry towards himself and his brother.
He had never hated Vergil. Ok, he hadn't always been his favourite person ever, and he enjoyed their not so friendly fights, but hating him, that was too far.
Maybe it would have been better that way. If he really hated him, he wouldn't be there, mourning his loss.
Author's note: heeey! Thanks for reading this little thing I wrote, I hope you enjoyed it.
I had wanted to write something about Devil May Cry for a long time npw, and I finally did it. I'm happy about how it turned out, even if it's sad.
Well, let me know what you think about it, see you next time! - Feeldespair
