So I've been trying to work on some stories, do some roleplays and re-read a VergilxOC fanfic that's my favorite. At the same time I was listening to a cover of Stay with Me by Sam Smith, the cover by Christina Gatti (it's supposedly a 1940s vintage version). The way the song flowed and what the lyrics meant suddenly made me want to make a very dramatic one-shot since I don't have the will to write up a new chapter or try to work on a fanfic I have going already. So yeah. You should look at the cover though, it's seriously more catchy than I would like
Companions
There was something about the way he smelled.
I'm not talking about colognes either; I'm talking about that natural smell of a person. Their natural, untouched, pure scent that was their own. As creepy as that sounds, I found it fascinating. When I first met him, I could remember the way he smelled.
The air was filled with blood curdling screams and freshly spilt blood; some of it being my own. I could recall the time where I was running for dear life and that certain young man had stepped in and slain my pursuer. The catch, however, as there always is one, was that he wasn't trying to save me.
He was trying to kill me as well.
The time when this silver haired gent had my life in his hands, I could smell him. The husky scent that filled the air I breathed that day, the scent of sweat and hard work. I was his employer's hit and he was ordered to kill me and bring my body back, whether in pieces or whole. It was simply a miracle I didn't die that night, but it was also a miracle that this man held some sort of feelings toward me.
Sadly they weren't what you would like to hope them to be.
He did not feel love towards me, naturally. I was but a stranger to him, and he to I (granted I heard his name before but that's not important). I believed that it was pity, mercy. An emotion that did not suit my pursuer but rather, quite contradict him. You see, he was rather famous in the little town I was staying in. His name eventually became popular for being able to wield blades so well.
The scent that lingered with me was not that night though, granted I can recall it. It was the scent on the final night I had spent with him. The night after years and years of being with each other and somehow enjoying each other's company, was the night that it all happened.
Vergil probably doesn't regret what he did or maybe he did. I never asked him on my dying breath, but rather, I simply lay in his arms as I took one last breath, taking in his scent one last time. At that very moment I had a simple realization.
Even though we fought together, won battles and lost few, even though we were faced with so many situations where it was a he or I, I could tell you, dear reader, that we never loved each other.
I never loved him for who he was; his human or demon side. I never loved the way he used his katana or the way he made blood rain on us after battles. I never loved the way he held me at night or made love to me. I never loved the way he showed some sort of feeling towards me at all.
I simply enjoyed his company.
And that was when I realized, at the time of my death, that I was never in love. I don't think he was either. We did, however enjoyed each other.
We were the best of companions to one another and that was all I needed. That was all he ever needed too, I believed.
We both just needed someone to be there for us.