Everywhere.
Vergil was always faster than Dante. At everything. He could run faster: when they were kids, Dante would stupidly - relentlessly - challenge him to all sorts of silly competitions, and one of those was running. Vergil always won, pacing his steps graciously, with Dante striding alongside him, but just a meter or two behind, for Dante was too vicious. Dante was just the kind of guy to jump headfirst into things, not really thinking of the consequences of his actions, or how his goals were going to be accomplished; actually met.
Dante always ran headfirst into things, and he always lost.
Almost.
Vergil could finish his homework faster, whether it be math, science, social studies, or language arts. He could read a book faster than Dante. He could spar faster and better than Dante. When his mother was ill, he could take care of her faster, more proficiently, and he could cook dinner for her faster than Dante.
And all the while, every time the younger twin lost at everything, he would smile.
And, really, the one most profound thing Vergil could accomplish faster than Dante was love.
Dante often proposed competitions to see who could stay up the longest, and you know who won? The younger twin would end up sprawled on his - ironically? Cutely? - twin-sized bed, legs opened wide in a deeply relaxed position, shirtless. And Vergil would stand there in the doorway, a knowing smirk rising to his lips, but never quite arriving.
Vergil liked watching Dante sleep, but he'd never admit to that. He'd leave the door cracked open, nervous about his mother walking in and finding him in such a...compromising situation, but, still, he needed some form of minuscule light for what he wanted to do, and the bedside lamp was too bright for his comfort. Too bright and too close to Dante, and while it probably wasn't enough to wake his ever lazy, deep-sleeping twin, he'd rather be cautious.
He'd pet his twins' hair, soft hands running through the soft hair, the actual similarities between the two making Vergil chuckle in his mind. He'd run his thumb over Dante's hairline, inspecting it, despite him knowing that they were identical twins. They really were different, in ways that tended to be forced; ever since they were young, Vergil strove to be different than Dante: Dante would go left, Vergil would go right. Vergil would whisper, Dante would scream. Dante would get passing grades, Vergil would receive exemplary. Vergil loved blue, Dante loved red.
And their hair. It drove Vergil insane to have the same hair as Dante, so he always flipped it up and gelled it back. But, deep down, he must not have truly wanted to be different than his twin, estranged, for Vergil never cut his hair, choosing to hold this one detail in his heart - and on his head - for all to note.
Why wouldn't anyone bring it up?
It was just his, really; just Vergil's little secret to be closer to his younger-by-what, five-minutes brother.
"You're Everywhere," Vergil would whisper into his brother's hair, brushing his fingers along his head and down to gently caress behind his ear, twirling the strands of hair lingering. "You're in my heart, you're in my hair."
Vergil would press closer to his brother, continuing to mumble...
"Don't really hate you. Without father, it's just..."
And Vergil would start to shake a little, his mind roaring in waves and turning in agonizing, clockwork-like circles, and he wouldn't want to say anymore. Because he always believed that your heart was your weakness, especially when you're a half-demon, because when you're a half-demon, you're stuck in between two ultimate paths: your heart, and power. And to Vergil, those damn humans had always been so...so stupid, so mindless.
Vergil didn't want to be like that. But Vergil did want to be with Dante.
No, Vergil didn't always want to win, nor did he really want to be different than Dante. He just...wanted to keep him around. Was that it? Was this really...?
Closing his eyes, Vergil would dream and fantasize of the stupidest things... Happiness. Dante. Forever. Everywhere. Red, and blue. Unity. A stupid house with a stupid dog named Beowulf who wouldn't stop barking at passersby, and, really, even the air, it seemed, and Vergil would be reading a book, a pretty boring one, really, that wasn't interesting in the least, but it was there in his hands, his eyes full of boredom, with that dire excitement in his veins, skimming across the pages, often leaning in to just smell the foreign pages, until Wulfy would start whining and sit in front of the front door, and Vergil knew it was time so he'd close his book and set it on the table next to the recliner, the one with green trim and a too-bright lamp like the one Dante had in his room, and there would be a noise in the keyhole and all of a sudden Dante would be there standing in the doorway, home from work, and Vergil would stand up, a blush somewhat evident on his cheeks as he scuttled over to Dante and timidly wrapped his arms around him...
With a shaky, breathy sigh leaving his lips, Vergil would continue petting his brother, trying to take his fears and dreams and soak them into his twin with the touches. And when Dante woke up and said, "Verg?" somewhat surprised, Vergil would just hold him tighter.
And now, in the depths of Hell, his twin brother really is Everywhere.