Eleven.
Dull silver light shone through the open window leading to the courtyard.
Eleven.
On the floor lay his silhouette. Long and stretched, dark and distant.
Eleven.
And there on the windowsill he sat.
It was eleven when I went to check on him. A routine night job it was, to make sure he was in his proper place. The checkups had been getting easier, and over the past few weeks, he had grown more distant and silent with every passing hour.
It was eleven when I laid eyes on such a sight. It was a black night, more evil in stench and presence than my darkest of nightmares. Thin clouds took on a silver glow from the dark sky, the moonlight behind them burning them into color and vision.
And it was eleven when I wished I had not been a part of such a night job. Sitting in the frame of the window, he was, legs propped up onto the side, with an arm resting on his knee. Shameless, he sat there with a bare chest, long blue coat thrown over his shoulders in a half-assed way to cover himself.
It was eleven when I beheld a demon sitting in the window frame. Moonlight danced as clouds shifted. Great black wings spread from his back. The wink of a devil flashed through the red stone of his necklace. And his cold blue eyes—now downcast and clouded with thought—looked more and more like Hell than anything I've ever seen...
"Vergil..." the name escaped my lips in naught but a whisper.
It was eleven I was greeted by a heavy silence. It filled the room, polluting the air. It felt heavy on my chest. I struggled to breathe, yet without breaking the silence myself. My knees bucked and nearly gave out, causing me to lose the fixated sight of the demon before me.
It was eleven when I looked back up at him. His wings had vanished. His amulet was barely a dull red color. The room had darkened—a cloud shadowed the moon. And there before me was nothing more than a broken man lost in deep thought, no doubt contemplating jumping to his freedom. And at that moment, I had almost wanted to push him myself. Push him away from here. Away from me... Away from the sight of my face...
It was eleven when I felt an urging to leave him. A beckon, a calling nagged at the back of my mind.
It was eleven when I turned and left.
And it was eleven when Hellish blue eyes took on a fire of their own...
And burned a scar right in the back of mine.
Author's Notes:
This has been sitting in the back of my livejournal for months, just being useless and angsty, so I figured I'd post it. Tell me if you liked it and want more, because I have about three other Vergil-esque drabbles to post. :)