Pasik Sosuke

Scared that you’ll leave again.

Scared that it’s only a matter of time before you’ll walk out the door of your shared little beach house on the coast of California, and be gone for good. 

He would get it, he thinks. 

He wouldn’t want to be with himself either, if he’s completely honest. 

And he doesn’t just mean it in an ‘I-wouldn’t-want-to-fuck-myself-kinda-way’, but on a more fundamental level, too. 

There are days, where he can barely stand his own reflection in the mirror, and everything that comes with him being, well, him. 

Days, where he can’t help but feel utterly and terribly selfish for even expecting another person to stick around like that; because if he’s struggling so much with his own company, doesn’t everyone else, too?

If he can’t even bear being around himself, how can you? How can anybody? 

These fears come up sporadically, the voices sometimes loud and booming; sometimes quiet and small, but the truth they spit stings all the same; yet today seems exceptionally bad.

He keeps mulling over the idea that he’ll find you standing in the doorway with your bags packed and a pained look on your face.

“It’s too much,” he imagines you saying, “I love you, but it’s too much. You’re too much, Billy, and I simply can’t do this anymore. It’s not worth it; you’re not worth it. What you’re giving me isn’t enough to make up for all your flaws. I thought I could tolerate it, work around the mess you are, but it’s impossible. I get now why your mom left you Billy. I really, really do.”

Billy feels his throat tightening, as his breathing picks up; the mere thought itself has his heart feeling like it’s going to give out. 

And not in a fun way.

Fuck. 

He’s quickly blinking hot tears away, and it makes him hate himself even more. 

Weak, he thinks, with his father’s voice. 

Weak. Weak. Weak. 

Such a disappointment.

And you’re going to leave. Sooner rather than later you’re going to leave. 

He‘s going to lose you at some point in time. It’s not a matter of if; it’s a matter of when.

When is he going to lose you? 

When are you going to realize just how worthless he really is? How much of a bother, a burden, an impossible obstacle to any happy relationship, his mere presence provides.

How much you’re better off with someone else. 

Anyone else. 

Anyone else but Billy. 

And Billy himself can’t quite say when the doubts and fears started piling up in his mind with such an intensity again, leaving him with a deep and utterly overwhelming feeling full of unease in the pit of his stomach; one that’s so heavy, it almost renders him immobile.

He’s curled up completely on your shared bed, face pressed into your pillow, because it smells like you, and that’s normally something that calms his racing thoughts down a bit.

But not today. 

No, today it feels like even that is taunting him, because how much longer is he going to have that luxury; that luxury of you around and a part of his life. Staining his heart and mind with happy memories that used to be so hard to come by for Billy.

Memories he doesn’t deserve.

And how much longer is he going to wake up in a bed, so utterly soft and warm, with you by his side? There are little pieces of you all over your shared space, things that normally remind him of how you’re still here. Despite how difficult Billy is to love, you haven’t left yet. 

Yet, he thinks, a bitter laugh stuck in his throat.

But you will. 

You will leave, because everybody ultimately does, and he can’t blame them. Not if he’s the one they’re leaving.

His thoughts still linger on the way this all might play out; on the way you’re going to leave him, too. 

Will it be a big fight, like the ones with his dad? Or will you sneak out and vanish in a more quiet fashion, the way his mom slipped out of the shared house, he foolishly used to call home, and then never came back. 

He has to choke down a sob at the memory of his mother –  that part of his past still hurts more than the one with his dad, at least on an emotional level.

Maybe it’s the betrayal, he thinks, because he never expected that kind of treatment from her.

His dad? Yeah, sure. That guy never really gave two shits about him. Depriving him of even the tiniest scraps of affection, or love, or praise, or anything that a kid might desire from the person he looks up to the most.

But his mom? That beautiful and kind woman, with a smile so bright and warm, like the Californian sun. The woman that would kiss him goodnight, lips lingering on his freckled forehead, and tuck him in with a hushed, gentle voice and loving words.

He never thought that she would just leave like that, leave him to fend for himself in the claws of a monster all on his own.

A monster she knew all too well.

A monster she chose, not him.

Nevertheless, she abandoned Billy without much of a second thought, because otherwise, she would have come back for him, wouldn’t she?

But she didn’t and that realization still hurts. 

It's the kind of hurt that burns in his chest like the tears spilling from his eyes. And it has his hands clenching into angry fists, burrowed deep into the sheets.

Hands that are still adorned with scars.

Little scars and big ones, faint ones, and deep ones.

Scars, from all the fights he’s been in and all the times he punched his mirror too hard, in a helpless fit of rage, because he couldn’t stand the person staring back at him.

Because all he could see was a boy worth leaving and abandoning, someone who was actually deserving of all the mistreatment he got.

Scars, from the many times when, in a desperate attempt to keep his frustrations at bay, his hands would unconsciously tighten around a random glass or beer bottle, or anything delicate enough to break and shatter in his unyielding grip, leaving both his floor and his palms bloody and scattered with shards.

But his dad never cared about his hands, only about the stains on those ugly and dusty carpet floors, of all the places Billy has only ever known as hell.

Billy tries to stifle his cries by burrowing his face deeper into your pillow. Staining the fabric with his tears, its baby blue color turning a slightly deeper one. 

Fuck, you’re going to come home soon, he remembers, and he tries not to consider what might happen if you find him like this.

Maybe this will be the thing that has you leaving him, he thinks, and the thought only makes him cry harder. Small sobs shake his strong body, shoulders shaking in defeat, and a deep-seated sadness and fear of never being good enough.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Chomper, your little shark stuffie, sitting unsuspecting at the edge of the bed, and without really thinking, he grabs the little fellow and pulls him close to his bare chest.

The fluffy object smells even more like you, soft and sweet and light. And the tears keep coming while he convinces himself that this is it.

You’re going to leave him.

There’s no way you won’t after seeing him like this, again.

It’s a thought that keeps spinning in his mind, like a cursed merry-go-round, with no means to escape it. 

It had all started this morning, he thinks, when he woke up with unusually many doubts. Small, ugly whispers that told him all kinds of hurtful things.

He knows those voices, like he knows their words to be true, even if he has been able to manage them a little better.

But despite that, he's still prone to believe them when they say that he’s the worst; and that you’re ultimately going to leave him once you’ve come to your senses and realize the truth.

The truth about how deep, deep down he’ll always be an unlovable and unworthy mess; too difficult to love and cherish for even the most patient and compassionate person on the planet.

Which is you. 

In his eyes, it’s always you. 

Always.

He doesn’t deserve you, never has, never will, but it’s nice to pretend that he does sometimes, and occasionally he even finds himself believing that there could come a time, somewhere in the distant future, where he might actually find himself deserving of your love and kindness. 

But not today. 

It seems completely far-fetched now, an impossibility really, and the weight of it all has Billy feeling absolutely crushed. 

Maybe he should have told you, he thinks.

Earlier today, in the morning, when you had woken him up with your usual soft kisses and even softer touches, when you two shared little giggles and loving stares, before you had to get up and get ready for work.

He had watched you, his features full of adoration, as you slipped out of his oversized metal shirt and into a flowy skirt and a silky blouse.

His blue eyes following the quick movement of your fingers as you buttoned up the fabric, and he immediately itched to take it off again.

You had given him a gentle smile through the mirror of your vanity, when he couldn’t help a little yawn slip from his lips. Putting aside the blush you had just picked up; you made your way over to his side of the bed once more.

He remembers gazing up at you, through his long lashes, and the gentle smile that was back on your face made his heart speed up, and his mind a little dizzy. 

“Should I’ve not woken you up, love?” You had whispered, your hand gently brushing some wild, curly strands out of his face, and as usual he instantly leaned into your touch.

Nuzzling the palm of your hand before leaving a lingering kiss there.

The little affectionate action had your eyes soften.

After years and years of abuse, and growing up with the notion that human touch was something to be feared rather than cherished and enjoyed, the fact that Billy’s now actively seeking out the thing he used to hate so much has your heart jump in little leaps of joy. 

God, how you love him.

But you silently notice that he looks a bit tired, and you feel a twinge of worry bubble up in your chest. 

You always wake up together. It’s one of those little rituals that somehow just stuck. Even on days where it’s your time off from work, or Billy’s, you still wake up with the other person.

Today is such a day; it’s Billy’s day off from work at the car repair shop, but unfortunately, the same can’t be said for you.

Work calls, and you have to answer, which means you still have to finish getting ready, although you’re putting that on the back burner of your mind for now, as your eyes are transfixed on Billy. 

He’s so pretty, and kind and utterly yours, and you still can’t quite believe it.

You carefully lean over him, brushing your nose gently against his.

“Love you, Billy.” You whisper, “You can go back to sleep if you need to, you still look a little tired, sweetheart.”

“’S okay,” Billy mumbles, voice raspy and tinted with sleep.

The deeper octaves of his voice always have the thoughts in your head spinning around themselves, and this time is no exception.

But before you can dwell on that too much, Billy’s calloused hands come up to your neck, pulling you down for a messy kiss. 

“Stay,” he whispers, as usual, as always, and you can’t help but smile against his lips. 

“You know that I can’t, Billy,” you draw the syllables of his name out for emphasis, before capturing his plump lips back in another searing kiss.

“Even though I really wish I could.”

When your eyes find his again, the look behind yours is earnest.

Still Billy sighs.

It’s not an accusatory sigh, just a little disappointed one.

And he’s not disappointed at you, but disappointed at those mean circumstances of live.

Like the fact that you two have to work for a living, instead of being able to spend the rest of eternity at his two favorite places, the beach, and your shared bed; and maybe his trusted Camaro too, because that’s the first taste of real freedom he ever had, after his mother left. The first safe haven he got, and used thoroughly to escape his father’s abuse.

There were times in his life, where he spent more nights curled up in the backseat of his car than in his bedroom at his father’s house. A place he refuses to call home.

But as much as he hates that man, he unfortunately calls his father, Billy thinks the abusive piece of shit might have been right when he told him about what an absolute disappointment he was.

Not just as a son, but as a human. 

An utterly, disappointment of human.

And a broken one too, if the countless tears he’s shed are anything to go by.

Billy had noticed these thoughts coming up, while you were still playing with some strands of his hair, before untangling yourself from him with a small sigh.

“Gotta finish getting ready, love,” you’d explained, voice apologetic, yet entirely unaware of the troubled war that’s been breaking out in Billy’s mind.

Taking it over and corrupting it.

He continued watching you get ready, but there’s something else swirling around in his stomach now.

Something different than the previous pure love and admiration.

Something a little more ugly. A neediness, a longing, a fear of watching you leave.

He wanted to call out to you and tell you about it, but he just felt so stupid. All he remembers instead is the quick kiss you gave him, before rushing out of the bedroom, while trying to put your earrings in place.

“I’ll try to leave a little bit more early this time,” you had promised, halfway through the bedroom door, turning around to him again and giving him one of your blinding smiles.

“Can’t wait to have you all to myself later, love.” The tone of your voice was teasing, but the look in your eyes was kind and loving, and Billy felt his heart clench at the sight of it.

He doesn’t deserve you. 

And there’ll come a time where you’ll realize that too, and you’ll leave. 

It’s a thought that his mind fixates on, as he literally watches you leave, your skirt flowing lightly behind you with every step you take; every step that’s taking you further and further away from him, as the ugly voices in his head grow louder and louder.

And by the time he hears the front door opening and closing again, he feels like crying. 

You’re in a cheerful mood today, humming a little pop tune as you’re getting home from work, making your way through the entry of your house, excited to reunite with Billy, and maybe enjoy some warm rays of the afternoon sun outside. 

“Billy, I’m back!” 

Dumping your handbag unceremoniously next to your shoes that you just slipped out of, you make your way into your shared living room, but there’s no sight of the man you call your own. 

Weird.

He’s not in the kitchen, and since there’s no rock music blaring from the garage, you’re sure he isn’t in there either. 

Maybe he’s outside, enjoying the ocean you live so incredibly close by, you think, as you make your way up the stairs to get to your bedroom and change into something more comfortable and beach appropriate. 

You’re still humming along to the song that’s somehow stuck in your head while thinking about your bathing suit choices. There’s a new one you’ve got as a little surprise for Billy and- 

You halt in your thoughts and movements once you’re standing in the doorway of your shared bedroom.

It looks exactly the way you left it, roughly eight hours ago. 

The shutters are still closed, light only slipping through its narrow gaps, painting stripes across the bed, and it’s only then, that you notice the rough shape of a body lying in it. 

Billy. 

At first, you don’t think too much of it.

He’s prone to having migraines and sleeping them off even during the day, or at least trying to. He’s also turned away from you in such a way, that you don’t get to see his tear-stained face or any other indication that he’s anything other than okay.

You still whisper his name quietly into the partial darkness of the room, but there’s no reply; no movement, no nothing, and you figure he must be asleep.

You don’t mind the idea of a little shuteye yourself, so you carefully slight into the bed behind your boyfriend. Spooning him tenderly, mindful, not to wake him with any abrupt movements or heavy sounds.

Nuzzling his shoulder softly, your hand finds its way across his bare chest, and you feel your stomach drop, falling from somewhere high up in the sky. 

His heartbeat is going at least a million times a minute; maybe two. 

It’s pounding away in his chest with such intensity, that it has you sitting up quickly. 

Your hand still lingers on that spot, trying to make sense of the thumping underneath your fingertips. Why is his heart beating so ferociously when he’s supposed to be asleep? 

He’s either having a nightmare, you think, alarmed, or he isn’t sleeping at all. 

“Billy?” you whisper, leaning over your boyfriend carefully, trying to get a glimpse of his face. 

And if you felt your stomach drop from airy heights before, it is now sinking to the deepest and darkest part of the ocean floor, as a cold shiver rushes down your spine. 

Despite keeping his eyes shut tight, you can still see the tears slipping through between his lashes, running down his freckled-kissed skin.

You can see the way he’s biting his lips to keep it from trembling and making any sound.

And you see him clutching your stuffie with such despair that you feel like your heart’s now lying completely shattered in bits and pieces somewhere at the bottom of the ocean. 

Oh, this is bad. 

“Billy?” You try hard to keep your voice even, to not let the panic or worry you currently feel fall through your lips.

But Billy’s just pressing his closed eyes tighter together, the tremble of his lips increasing, before hiding his face more in the soft confines of your pillow. 

Oh, this is really, really bad. 

“Sweetheart,” You don’t really think about your next steps, apart from trying to do them as gently as possible. Moving over Billy’s frame carefully, in order to be able to face him fully.

He still tries to hide away from you, but that’s not something that deters you from your plan.

Not after having been with him long enough to know him inside and out. To know that he craves a gentle touch on the best of his days, and he absolutely hungers for it on the worst ones. 

“Billy, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You keep your voice as gentle and as soft as you can manage, while you feel like your world is spinning out of control, worry clouding your mind. 

The man in question just shakes his head, before mumbling, the tiniest, most broken “Nothing,” you’ve ever heard. 

And you both know that it’s bullshit. 

Billy is a lot of things right now; but okay isn’t one of them. 

“Billy, my love, look at me, baby.” 

You nudge his shoulder lightly with your nose before cupping bis cheek with the gentlest touch. 

And you both know that there’s nothing you can’t coax out of Billy with a voice as soft as your touch, so you keep talking to him gently, almost as if you were talking to a frightened child or a hurt animal, maybe. 

And as usual, it works.

As soon as he’s looking up at you slightly, and he’s less curled in on himself, you wrap your arms around him protectively and Billy instantly folds. 

All it takes is another whispered, “Shh, come here, I’ve got you, love,” and the way you tenderly guide his face towards the crook of your neck, and he breaks. 

He completely breaks down in your arms, clinging to you tightly, and his quiet sobs pull on your heartstrings repeatedly and with such an intensity, you’re almost sure they’re going to snap. 

You still don’t know what’s wrong; still don’t know what’s got him so upset. You don’t know if he’s physically in pain or mentally, or maybe it’s an unpleasant combination of both.

You’re going to find out eventually, but right now you just want to help him calm down. Let Billy cry it out and then maybe talk about it, once he’s in a better headspace. 

“Shh, it’s alright Billy. You can cry, I’ve got you. You can let it all out, love. Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby.” 

Billy sniffles, tears still dripping down his cheeks and into your silky blouse. You don’t pay it any mind, and even if you did it wouldn’t matter. There’s literally nothing as important to you as Billy.

You keep the stream of reassuring words coming. Your hands are still tenderly stroking his cheeks and playing with his hair carefully.

You’re not sure how much time passes, as you continue your tender ministrations; but the sun’s still shining outside, slipping through the cracks of your shudders, when Billy’s sniffles and sobs finally cease.

He’s quiet for a little while longer, as you keep drawing comforting circles on his back, and then he suddenly mutters, voice hoarse from all the crying:

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

You halt in your movements for a split second, unsure of what he’s referring to. 

“What do you mean, love? Tired of what?” You question gently, looking at Billy for clarification.

“Tired of loving me,” he whispers, and that’s it. 

There are tears in your eyes now, too. 

“Oh, Billy.”

So, that’s what this is all about, you think, as you pull your boyfriend impossibly closer.

You know, he has abandonment issues, that was made pretty clear when you first started dating, but with time and reassurance things have slowly become better. Not perfect, but better.

Billy isn’t as jealous of other people anymore, especially men that you’re friends with. Something that had been a bit of an issue at first.

It had taken Billy a long time to let you in, because keeping you out was less painful.

You can’t lose something you don’t have.

Can’t get left by someone you never truly considered yours in the first place.

But once he did let you in, things weren’t immediately all sunshine and rainbows.

Billy could get jealous, incredibly jealous.

It’s partly because he’s convinced that he’s the worst, and literally anyone would be better than him by default, meaning also that anyone could be a threat to your relationship.

It’s that kind of a fear, that made him turn accusatory, convinced that you’d leave him as soon as a good enough person or chance arose.

But his jealousy and possessiveness were also partly rooted in the fact that he never really got to witness any healthy relationship dynamics.

Because the relationship he had to his father was anything but; and the relationship his father had to women was anything but.

And the only glimpses of a somewhat constructive relationship he ever really got to see was the relationship Max had to her mother Susan, and even that one wasn’t perfect, yet it left him with the bitter taste of jealousy.

And all these influences had an effect on the way he considered you his, and how losing you wouldn’t just hurt his feelings; but also his sense of pride, his ego, his fucked-up view of masculinity and manliness.

Because what does it say about him as a man if he can’t even keep his girl faithful? 

But there are things you can take and there are things you refuse to take, and so you sat Billy down early on in your relationship and made it very, very clear what you’re able to tolerate, and what you simply won’t. 

You know that he’s been traumatized, and growing up with a father like that is bound to leave some lingering scars on both his body and his mind.

But that doesn’t mean he gets to repeat cycles, or fall into unhealthy patterns and make you the scapegoat for his insecurities.

He’s never laid a hand on you - if that was to happen you would be quicker out the door than you can say ‘abusive piece of shit’, but Billy still had things to work through.

Anger issues, jealousy, an impulsiveness paired with a complete lack of risk awareness, and self-destructive tendencies that you can’t just eradicate like that.

As someone who struggled with some of the same problems, you would know. So, you always understood parts of his troubles, know how difficult those impulses truly can be. How overwhelming the need for some kind of relief can be in the heat of the moment without really thinking or caring about the consequences that might follow.

And, you know, Billy’s trauma has him preprogrammed to believe that he’s the worst, a failure, an unlovable mess, and overall, just one big disappointment.

How could he not get that impression when that’s all he’s ever been told by his father, who happened to be the only constant in his life.

You loved Billy - still do, of course, and so you always considered him worth it; worth the work that it took to get him to change some of those behaviors and beliefs.

Unlearning things, relearning things, but some things will always linger around in his mind to some extent.

Like parts of those ugly and persistent voices that are quick to judge him, and the self-destructive impulses that might follow in order to get them to shut up. 

So, all you can do to help in those moments is trying to sooth him. Sooth those whispers in his head and get him out of that ugly cycle of self-loathing and hatred.

Make him see and realize that you’re there, and that no matter what, you won’t leave; that your love is a lot stronger than the voices in his head. Reassuring and reminding him of your feelings, your unwavering commitment to him, and all the things you love about Billy.

Because you do. You really, truly love him.

He’s the best man you’ve ever known.

And you try to make him see that; see the person that he really is, and not the failure that his mind keeps taunting him as. 

“Oh, Billy,” you repeat your hushed whisper.

“Oh, Billy, no.” 

“Billy, I won’t ever get tired of loving you. In fact, not even three million eternities will be remotely enough. Nothing ever will be. I’ll never get enough of loving you, sweetheart.”

You carefully play with some of his curls, fingers grazing the nape of his neck, and Billy cuddles up more into you. He’s been starved of loving touches for so long, that it sometimes still leaves his mind reeling. 

“I’m never going to leave, Billy,” you promise in a quiet whisper.

“How would you know?” Comes Billy’s broken mumble, and on a regular day he might feel ashamed of being so needy, so clingy, so utterly hungry for any kind of validation, but right now, he just wants to hear you say it, and maybe silence those ugly voices in his mind.

Remind him that he’s human even if he feels like a monster, even if he feels completely unworthy of your love. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” you whisper, voice patient, and soaked with love, dripping with love, absolutely overflowing with love. 

‘I know this, because I love you, silly.’ You want to say, but you know, that that won’t be enough, so you try to remind him of something else, that might make him see the man you see, and love and cherish with absolutely no bounds. 

“Remember our first trip to California?” you mumble, your breath tickling Billy’s ear. 

He hums as he curls up closer, hands tightening around you. 

Of course, he remembers that trip. It was quite a few years ago, back in the mid-eighties, the summer after he had turned 19, he thinks, or maybe it was 20. He had finally managed to safe enough money to get out of the ugly claws of his father, and by some miracle, you two also had enough cash put aside for a small road trip to the west coast. 

“We weren’t together then,” you remind him softly, “You were still keeping me at arm’s length at first.” 

Right, Billy thinks. What a complete fool he was back then. The two of you had started out as a seemingly unlikely pair of friends, but it quickly grew into something more; something you both had been in denial about.

Billy most of all. 

Well, he did know that he liked you, like a lot. 

He just never thought you would reciprocate his feelings, and besides that relationships never actually work out, so why try them at all, really? 

And it would save himself the heartache of watching you leave again.

“We were sleeping in your Camaro a lot, because we couldn’t afford even the stingiest motel rooms, and you would torture me with Metallica and I would torture you with Van Morrison, and I would literally have to fight you to get to play my Janis Joplin tape, you absolute buffoon of a music critic.”

You playfully poke Billy’s side, and a little laugh bubbles up from somewhere deep in his chest.

“I remember that,” he admits, “You know I never actually thought she was that bad, I just liked to annoy you, I guess.”

“Oh, I know, babe. I know.”

You look at him lovingly, and Billy feels his heartrate pick up, but this time it’s not in an act of anxiety, or worry; he just really, really adores you, too.

“And I still remember how we were cruising down the coastline, windows open, music blaring, and we were both singing our hearts out to More Than a Feeling at the top of our lungs.”

“Oh god,” Billy croaks out with a small groan, “I remember that too,”

The little smile on his face is earnest, and you trace your fingers gently over his freckled skin.

“And it was electrifying because driving with you always feels a little bit like flying. It’s quite the near-death experience, really. And you wanted to show me that one particular beach, like really, really badly, remember?”

“Yeah,” Billy whispers now, because he thinks he knows where you’re going with this.

It’s the night of your first kiss. 

“And we would drive up to that place, but one of my stupid Flip-Flops broke, and you had to carry me to the beach because the sand was just so fucking hot.” 

“And you were a giggly mess, scared that I might drop you.”  

“I sure was, but you didn’t. You promised me you wouldn’t drop me, not for anything in the world, and you didn’t.”

Billy’s eyes soften at the memory and the vulnerability of your voice.

“And you didn’t tell me why you wanted to go to that place in particular, but I knew that it must have meant a lot to you at some point in time.”

Billy nods his head in agreement. It was the beach his mom would usually take him to, but you didn’t know that then.

“And the view was absolutely breathtaking! But we were both such idiots that we forgot our beach towels in the car, and neither of us wanted to go back, so you stripped yourself of your t-shirt in order to make me a makeshift one.” 

Right, Billy had completely forgotten about that detail, if he’s honest.

“We would sit by the water, and just talk, until a little boy ran up to us, because he couldn’t find his parents. And he was distraught, and scared and crying, and we were both struggling to calm him down again. But for some reason he ended up being mesmerized by your fucking earrings, and the traces of your skull tattoo. And when he saw the scars on your back, he asked completely in awe-“

“Are those from fighting monsters?” You both finish the sentence, voices emotional.

“And Billy, you looked at him with tears in your eyes, and whispered, ‘Something like that’ and from there on out the little guy was completely taken in with you.” 

Billy’s quietly crying again, and so are you, sniffling away and using the sleeve of your blouse as a stop to your tears, before Billy’s hands gently come up, cupping your cheeks, and wiping away the salty specks from your skin, with the most tender touches. 

“We searched the whole fucking beach for his goddamn parents.” Billy continues, with a faint laugh. “And he would hold on to me for dear life, and his hand was so utterly tiny in mine.”

“At some point he was getting really tired, so, you decided to pick him up and carry him, and he ended up falling asleep on your shoulder; That probably was the softest thing I’ve ever witnessed.” You admit, voice, and gaze full of adoration for the man in front of you. 

“When we finally found his parents, they were so utterly grateful. Yet you still observed the interaction warily, when the boy ran up to his dad, because you thought he might get scolded.”

“But he didn’t. His father just hugged him really tight, and told him how worried he was and that he loves him very much.” Billy finishes with a small sob.

He remembers that interaction so vividly, because it still stands in such stark contrast to his way of growing up.

It somehow serves as both, a painful reminder of what could have been, and a hopeful one of how he wants to do better.

Of how he can do better.

Not every father or man has to be as inherently bad as his.

And so, he doesn’t have to be either. 

“They wanted to treat us to dinner, but we both refused, and the little boy, Nick! Nick was his name, wasn’t it? Well, he was waving at us with the biggest smile, when they left.” 

“Yeah, and I broke down crying afterwards.” Billy adds, slightly embarrassed, but you shush him gently.

“You had every right and reason to. That whole interaction brought up a lot of stuff for you.” 

“That night I talked to you about my mom for the first time.” Billy whispers. 

“I know, and we were both bawling our eyes out by the end of it.” 

“I had never told anyone else about her before. And I was so scared to admit that I still missed her, because I thought you would judge and see me as weak and fragile and a joke of a man.” 

“But I didn’t, because you weren’t. Billy, you were never weak for missing your mother, or crying about the mistreatment you had to endure from both of your parents. And Billy, you’re not weak now either. Because crying doesn’t make you weak; being scared to lose something you love doesn’t make you weak, and it also doesn’t make you a burden.” 

Billy curls into you again, face pressed tightly against the crook of your neck, his breath shaky. 

“Billy, I know you still struggle with coming to terms with what happened. Trying to make sense of the abuse you had to endure. Trying to figure out what you did to deserve this, but here’s the thing, Billy: You never deserved any of it.

There’s nothing you could have done as a child, that would justify the mistreatment or abuse you had to endure. There’s nothing that justifies the way your father tormented you for the first twenty years of your life.

And it’s hard to wrap your mind around that truth, when all you’ve ever been told is that it’s your fault, that you’re too much, a disappointment, an unlovable burden. But none of that is true, sweetheart.

None of it.

You’re a caring and sensitive soul Billy, you never deserved any of that. Not as kid, not as a teen and not now in your 20s either.” 

“But I was like him then,” Billy croaks out, voice breaking once more. “Maybe I deserved it because I was so much like him then. Max could probably write a thousand essays on how I was the worst back when-“

“Oh, Billy,” you mumble, because you know that’s another sore topic for the man sniffling quietly in your arms. 

“Billy, the way you repeated the cycles of abuse wasn’t right, but that’s also all you’ve ever grown up with. It’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and even still that doesn’t warrant the fate you got.

You didn’t get abused because you were abusive. You were abusive because you were abused. There’s a difference. You were a victim too, a victim turned abuser, but you’re not that anymore. You made amends with the people you hurt the most, remember?

Do you think Max would be in regular contact with you now, if she still considered you the threat that you were back then? Do you think she would come down here for visits if she still hated you or resented you in that way?

Billy, Max is in your life now because she wants to be. Because she cares about you. Just like I am in your life because I want to be. And neither one of us is going to leave you. None of our friends are going to leave you, and as much as you struggle with the ugly fear of getting abandoned or left behind, that’s just not going to happen.

Not anymore, because now you have a support-system who loves and cherishes you for the dorky and sensitive, car-obsessed metalhead you are.”

Cupping his cheek carefully and taking a deep breath, you state:

“Billy Hargrove I’ve loved you from the day you bandaged my foot in the changing cabins of Hawkins community pool, because I slipped on a fucking ice cream package paper, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

But you managed to make me laugh and get my mind off the persistent pounding inside my sprained ankle. And you drove me home that night, and I made fun of your shitty music taste that’s not actually that shitty.

And I fell in love with you the more I got to know you. The more I got to see you smile earnestly at my dumb little jokes and witness you open up to me more and more about your past, and your present, and your future, until I couldn’t imagine the latter without you.

Until I couldn’t imagine a future without you in my life, because you’ve been such a fucking blessing.

And on that day at the beach when nighttime rolled around and we were both lying in the warm sand, that still radiated the heat from the day, with Hawkins millions of miles away and freedom in every breath of summer night air,

you told me about all the things you’ve been through, and I admired you even more, because I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that after everything you had to endure; after everything you had to go through, you still turned out into that man I wholeheartedly love.

And I remember burrowing my feet in the warm sand, as I watched you get up to chase the waves again. And I was giggling because that’s such a stupid past time activity, but you were having the time of your life, laughing, and after having seen you cry so much that day, seeing you smile like that could have mended any heart. 

And I remember you standing there, hair a salt-water kissed mess; the sky a midnight blue above us, adorned with so, so many stars. And the deep dark sea mirroring it, with the tiny lights of random ships sailing through the night. It was like they were getting lost in each other, as I was getting lost in you.

And the ocean was all we could see, and I knew that I wanted you.

I knew then that I could not, and would not be able to live a life without you in it, without you being my most important and cherished person and-“ 

“Then you ran up to me and kissed me,” Billy finishes with tears in his eyes.

“Then I ran up to you and kissed you, and you kissed me back, and it was the most tender and beautiful kiss I ever experienced. And I am so fucking lucky that I’ve been able to share those kisses with you every day since then.” 

You gaze into the loving blue eyes of your boyfriend.

The man you’re so proud to call your own.

His eyes are still glossy, but those are different kinds of tears.

These are tears of fondness, of love, of sheer disbelief about how lucky he got.

These are happy tears.

You watch the growing smile on his face with a steady pounding in your chest that lets you know just how much you’re head over heels for this guy.

But you’re not quite done with your little speech, so you cup Billy’s freckled cheeks once more between your hands tenderly, before saying:

“Billy fucking Hargrove, there is no scenario in my mind, in which I’m walking out that door for good without holding your hand clutched tightly in mine, got it?” 

Billy laughs, and it’s hearty and earnest and the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. And you know, you’ll spend the rest of your life trying to get to hear that sound as much and as often as possible. 

The golden rays of the setting sun still slip through the gaps of your shutters, and it paints warm stripes across Billy’s freckled skin. You watch them move, as he leans down to kiss you, capturing your lips in a loving kiss. You can still taste the salt of your shared tears on both of them, but it’s okay. Because you’re okay, and you know Billy will be too. 

He’s still going to have his bad days, of course, but like the gentle changes of the wind, and the slow turning of the tide, even those will pass, and make way for a more sunnier and happier days. 

When you break apart again carefully, you find yourself smiling at your boyfriend, as an idea crosses your mind.

“So, do you want to spend the rest of the day here or…?” you question, while patting the soft sheets of your bed. 

“Or, what?” Billy inquires, eyes and voice gentle and loving. “Do you have something particular in might, hm?”

“Maybe,” you tease, smile a little mischievous, before pulling him back down again for another kiss. 

“And what exactly would that be?” Billy mumbles against your lips. 

“Well, I was thinking, how about a battle of chasing waves, again?” 

That is not what Billy expected you to say, and you both know it, but before he can call you out on it, you’re up and excitedly slipping out of your bed. 

“Come on, cali-boy, the sun isn’t going to wait for us,” and with that, you’re running off, stripping yourself of your blouse, as you jump down the stairs, two at a time.

Billy’s close behind you, chasing you with a soft laugh; and it doesn’t take long for him to catch you, in the middle of your living room, arms wrapped around your waist, as he twirls you around like a child. 

“You little minx,” he scolds, but it’s playful and loving and light.

And when the room stops spinning, he pulls you in for another kiss.

One that has you weak in the knees, but luckily Billy’s there to steady you.

Because, of course, he is.

He always is.

And by the time you two make it through the sliding door of your patio, Billy’s hand is held securely in yours, as you step out into the warm sand of the perfect Californian beach, golden rays on both of your skin, and bright smiles on your faces. 

You’re going to be okay. 

____________________________

The first time Vergil saw it with his own eyes was in Hell, when he and his brother spent a considerable amount of time to cut down the Qliphoth. Vergil was used to the taunts of demons and Dante was as well… Or at least he should be, at that point in their lives.

But the taunts were many. They had been running through the fields of fire without sleep for a couple of days – in the human world, probably, as time had a different flow in Hell – killing everything in sight; and hearing every kind of putrid taunt they could.

What made Dante snap, though, was a simple implication: that it was Dante’s fault that Vergil fell and got subdued by Mundus, suffering endless nightmares for years to come. A strange glint sparked in Dante’s eyes at that moment. The scream that rumbled in his chest was enough to be heard through many layers of Hell.

It wasn’t Dante’s fault, Vergil knew that very well. He had refused to hold his brother’s hand, there was nothing Dante could have done. It was Vergil’s choice, and his sin only. But… For the first time, he saw how much his brother blamed himself for that. How much Dante had suffered, all those years, alone in the human world.

As above, so below… Dante suffered alongside Vergil all those years.

And all of that because of a stupid, childish decision from Vergil’s part. He observed Dante in shock as that realization came down on him – and as he watched the prized human heart of his twin brother seemingly disappear, giving place to a blind, bloodthirsty demon in full Sin Devil Trigger fashion, killing everything in his path.

Vergil stayed away from the destruction, always keeping an eye on his brother… If he could call him that. Dante – the foolish, laidback, talkative, jack of all trades, witty and quippy brother he knew – seemingly was nowhere to be seen. He was gone, and everything left was his demon, with a never-ending thirst for blood.

Not that Vergil hadn’t had moments like those, but he was always alone. He would always find the end of his rage on the floor, exhausted, weak and cold. And so, he waited for Dante’s wrath to wear off – patiently, observing with a heavy heart, sorrow and guilt.

He didn’t enjoy seeing his brother like that.

That was the reason why, when Nico put to vote who was the scariest when angry, you threw your vote at Dante. You and the rest of the crew, except for the Spardas, decided to have a night out at a local diner, just to wind down and have a bit of fun – that sort of talk was a given when you were together.

“Dante, really?” Lady raised one of her eyebrows, staring at you with nothing but doubt in her multicolored eyes. “He can’t hurt even a fly!” When she said that, though, all of the eyes of the group turned at her in disbelief. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been hunting with him for a while. Dante can be a weapon of mass destruction, but he just… He doesn’t have that heart.”

“Hmmm… I think I have to agree with you on that one.” Trish slowly stirred her chocolate milkshake as Lady thanked with a sip of her vanilla one. “Look, I saw him killing Mundus. I saw Dante fighting the greatest and worst of Hell. He can be dangerous, but his human heart doesn’t let him be scary.”

“That is exactly my point.” You were ready to defend your thesis like a lawyer at court.

“Then why the hell would you vote for him as the scariest?” Nico didn’t have a cigarette on her hands because she had been forbidden to smoke inside the diner, but if she had, she would have been pointing at you with it. “Big flamin’ demon got nothin’ on Vergil, that one’s got the eyes of a killer. Got you chillin’ just by lookin’ at you.”

“Vergil doesn’t control his anger that much – I go as far as saying he doesn’t control himself as much as Dante.” And with those words, you won all the shocked looks you could at that evening. You would count that as a feat. “Is Dante a fool of a Tûk, as my dear Gandalf would say? Yes, he is. Is Vergil a walking death omen? Yes, he also is. But, I have talked to him about Dante being angry, and Vergil gave me enough hints to make it very clear Dante doesn’t let all his feelings out – he chooses to pass as a very aloof himbo of a man, but he is far from that. I’ve been his partner for enough time to say I agree with Vergil.”

“You might have a point.” Kyrie took a sip of her strawberry milkshake, as you let a triumphant smile take over your lips. “Dante might be playful, but we all know he has very deep emotions underneath that. It’s just like with Nero and his punk attitude.”

“But instead, he’s a cinnamon bun on the inside.” Nico topped Kyrie’s phrase, provoking some laughs on the group. That was the most accurate description of Nero if you had ever seen one.

“Dante loves his human heart, but he has a certain beef with his demonic one.” You wouldn’t say to the whole group you went as far as to believe he actually loathed his demonic heritage, as that was something too personal, but you had a hunch they all had some suspicions of that deep inside. “He keeps it in check, hidden, tamed. He lashes out when it’s a good time to do so – when fighting demons.” As you started getting some hums of agreement, you sneakily took Trish’s milkshake. “We have never seen Dante actually angry. And I don’t think we ever will.”

“Oh, now you’re makin’ it difficult.” Nico had to ponder those words, even if she couldn’t really see Dante being as dangerous as you said.

“Eh, not for me. I’m still going with Vergil.” Lady shrugged, firm on her opinion as always.

You took a little longer to get to the final vote – discussing what you had just said, as Trish called you out for stealing her milkshake and having it back, only to share it with you – but the answer was almost unanimous: the scariest one on a fit of wrath was Vergil.

Almost, because you kept adamant in voting on your red devil.

Vergil never came to know about all of that, but if he did, he would have agreed with you – not publicly, as he would hold his new title with pride, always content on inspiring fear as a way to keep himself and his loved ones protected. He would, however, agree with you privately, remembering Dante’s display of wrath in Hell.

That was the reason why his hands trembled on Yamato during your latest hunt together – the one where everything went wrong.

If only you would wake up. Maybe he could save Dante’s soul.

It all happened so fast, Vergil didn’t even see how things ended the way they were at the moment. On one second you were fighting by their side, on the other, you were tossed on the floor, soaked in your own blood, chest immobile. Not breathing.

“Y/n! No, y/n!” It was the very first time Vergil saw Dante dropping everything to run towards you. His brother let go of his sword, ignored all demons around and ran as if you were the only being in that godforsaken place. Vergil had to put himself between him and the demons, keeping them at bay as Dante quickly made his way to you. “Y/n! C’mon, babe! Y/n!”

Dante’s knees hit the floor with a loud thud as he dropped all his weight by your side – not feeling anything at the moment, but it would certainly leave a couple of horrid bruises. As his sky-blue eyes met that harrowing sight, desolation filled his face; Dante forgot how to breath for a split second, barely feeling his very own hands, legs tingling as his body seemed to sink in the ground even further.

Vergil stated the very same thing his brother did – and he never thought he could feel that way with the thought of losing you; but there was Vergil, with numbness on his fingers and a sickness in his stomach. You were the little light that Dante had found in his life, one of the only good things that had happened to him during all his damned years of living. Vergil knew how important you were, how only you could make Dante smile with a sincerity he only had seen when they were kids. What would be of his brother – his foolish, stupid, beloved brother – if he lost you to demons as well…?

The answer would come very soon, but not without a fight from Dante’s side.

“C’mon, y/n, open your eyes…!” Dante’s voice trembled, in a way Vergil had never listened to before. He watched as his twin brother desperately tried to bring you back, heavy hands massaging your chest, followed by breathing inside your mouth, and repeating once more. “C’mon, babe… Don’t leave me here…!” Those words were a whisper as he trembled trying to make your heart beat again, giving his breath to you once more so you could also breathe.

The realization washed Dante’s body as a cold wave, as he slowly felt he wasn’t in his body anymore – his body feeling your weight on his hands, but his soul completely out. Maybe flying away to meet yours wherever you were.

But then, a twisted symphony of distorted cackles and mockery ripped through his ears – the realization also came to the demons, and now they gloated with their first victory. Not only that, but humiliated the son of Sparda for losing his own beloved just like his father had lost Eva.

Vergil was ready to unsheathe Yamato and unleash all his fury to cut those demons in million pieces for that lack of respect – and to allow his brother to mourn properly. He himself had to mourn: you were too precious at the Devil May Cry for Vergil not to feel your loss.

But he wouldn’t need that. A deep growl grabbed the Dark Slayer’s attention, making him immediately turn to his brother. Dante got up from the floor with nothing but rage in his eyes bleeding tears, bare teeth as his demonic heritage boiled to rip through his skin and unleash all its fury on his enemies.

If only Dante had waited a single second, he would have realized what Vergil did. He would have heard a faint heartbeat – trembling, but fighting to survive. He would have seen your broken body trying to breath underneath the blood.

Dante killed the first demons with their own weapons, running towards his sword with a scream that only grew in strength. Vergil kneeled by your side, checking your pulse on your neck, staining his hands with your blood but stating what made his heart beat faster: you weren’t lost. Dante had to know.

The floor rumbled. As Vergil turned his attention towards Dante, he immediately turned back to you to protect you with his body. Dante’s scream thundered through the floor, as if it came from the deepest pits of Hell itself – and a thousand degrees exploded in sparks and molten lava as his Sin Devil Trigger took the place of the man who stood there before.

Vergil was used to the flames of Hell, they would not hurt him. But he wasn’t used to the wrath of his brother – and that might be something none of you would be able to recover. Vergil could take the heat of the explosion that took down many demons in its wake, but your human body couldn’t – and that was the reason why he had to do everything in his power to protect you.

Those silvery eyes turned back at Dante, still keeping a protective arm above you. Usually predatorial, now Vergil had nothing but worry in his gaze, watching with desolation as his brother became the bloodthirsty ruthless demon he never was.

In that state, Dante could make mistakes. He could hit you without even realizing. A misplaced use of his power, a wrong swing of his blade, another explosion of million degrees into hellish flames… Vergil could survive, not you. And, if Dante, who hadn’t realized yet you weren’t lost as he thought you were, ended up being the real reason of your demise…

Vergil didn’t even want to think what would happen.

For all he could see at that moment was a demon fiercely fighting other demons – or, better yet, easily subduing and mercilessly slaughtering all of them. And that was something that was so intrinsic to Dante’s heart: his mercy. Having Dante without his mercy, his kindness, his gentleness, his love, was the same as not having him at all… That was the source of his power, like rage was the source of Vergil’s power.

Watching his brother lost in wrath was heart wrenching, but knowing it could get even worse if he was to completely lose his soul was even more harrowing. Dante’s eyes bled his pain, even in that form, as he soaked his whole self in the viscous blood of his enemies – a monster beyond salvation, a creature without a soul, a lover without a heart. A man with his fragile hope crashed into pieces, abandoning everything that made him who he was, to allow himself to find some comfort through burning his own wrath.

For the first time, it downed on Vergil his brother might not come back. If he lost you, if Dante fatally wounded you, Vergil would never have him again – for Dante would lose the very last brink of humanity inside of him; a brink that Vergil couldn’t even see at that moment and didn’t even know if it was still there. Dante’s eyes were red, his growls distorted and animalistic, his power… Greater than Mundus, greater than even Sparda.

If Dante approached, Vergil would have to fight him. His brother wasn’t in a leveled state of mind to see logic – and he could hurt you, even if Dante would never do that. With all that blind wrath, though, Vergil didn’t even know if his brother would answer if he called.

Holding Yamato with a stronger grip than usual, Vergil stood in front of your body, guarding you from whatever harm that could come your way – be it in demon form… Or in his own twin brother form.

The cold hand of fear, though, slowly crept into his heart and held it on its stark clutches. Yes, Vergil spent his whole life sparring with that fool he had to call his brother – hearing Dante’s taunts and impossible physics, as if he didn’t even make an effort to make Vergil look like a complete buffoon during the fight, no matter how much technique and skill he had – but never Vergil imagined not having that.

Having Dante was a given. Fighting him was a given. Bantering, arguing, sparring, behaving like the bickering old set of twin brothers that they were. Vergil could say he wanted to defeat Dante, but he never wanted to get rid of him. What would his life be without his stupid brother?

Empty. Silent. Cold. Devoid of color.

Dante couldn’t go. And, most of all, he couldn’t go by Vergil’s hands. But if he was too much of a lose canon, if he was too far gone in his demonic frenzy, Vergil would have to put a stop to it…

Like Dante did with him as Nelo Angelo so many years before.

Vergil had to hold the cry that seemed to want to force its way out of his throat – holding back the tears that now glistened in his eyes. He was the most foolish of all… He was responsible for putting Dante on the same situation he found himself in at the moment – and just now he understood how harrowing, how painful and how much of a hell Dante had to go through.

Alone. Just like Vergil was alone in Hell – as above so below, the twins mirroring each other’s fates, on their realms and heritage of preference.

They weren’t so different after all.

As you started to hear the chaos around you once again, your head was spinning viciously and the pain that spread inside your lungs made you think you were going to explode. With an almost inaudible moan, you felt tears streaming down your eyes as you tried to open them, seemingly inhaling blood and pain every time you tried to breathe. You could feel you were covered in something wet and sometimes sticky, but it took some time for you to raise a trembling hand in front of your barely focusing eyes to realize it was blood.

Were you dead…? What had happened…? You could barely remember. You didn’t even know what hit you: suddenly everything turned black and now you were feeling like a bulldozer went over your body and somehow you managed to survive. Perhaps you didn’t, but if you were dead, you wouldn’t be feeling that much pain… At least, that was what people always said that happened after departing from the human world.

Plus, you could still hear the demons – but now, screaming in fear and trying to run away from something that was growling in such an inhuman tone, you wondered if you guys had accidentally summoned something bigger. By the noise, it had to be. The likes of Mundus and the other Kings of Hell – Vergil being the smallest of them, but still as deadly.

Perhaps it was Vergil…? To be fair, though, he never went all out without a really good reason. Maybe he thought you were dead? He appreciated you as much as a brother would appreciate his twin’s partner, but you didn’t expect him to have such a visceral reaction to your death; Unless…

You widened your eyes as your whole body seemed to be washed by a cold wave followed by a lightening that made you tingle from head to toes. Your heart sunk in your chest and the painful breaths you tried before were all but gone. Vergil would have a visceral reaction if he lost his brother. And that, you couldn’t even fathom: life without Dante didn’t exist… Or, at least, it would be something you wouldn’t want to go through.

You forced your body up, slowly turning to one side and barely using your arm to keep your weight as you tried to see what was going on. You had to find him, you had to find Dante. You would crawl to his body, you would shake him around as you could, you would give him your breath, you would give him your soul – but you would try everything to bring him back. You would hold him as tight as you could, you would cry over him, and there wouldn’t be a living or dead thing in this world that would be able to part you from him.

You widened your eyes once more when you saw Vergil keeping your body as a guardian warrior and the source of the chaos and destruction was your beloved red devil – lost in a frenzy, dripping with blood, eyes melting like lava and nothing of human in them.

You had never seen Dante like that.

“Verge…” You tried to cough the word out, but it was nothing more than a dying whisper. You couldn’t see how the blue devil furrowed his brows, thinking he might be hearing things – until you allowed a harsher breath to hurt your lungs so you could try to raise your trembling voice higher. “Vergil…!”

He turned his head enough to see you in the corner of his eyes – doing his best to still keep Dante in his sight. A wave of euphoria washed through Vergil’s body as his hands seemed to get steadier around Yamato: he was right, you were alive. As the fighter you were, the survivor you were… You were breathing and doing your best to get back on your feet again.

“Y/n…” But he couldn’t even talk: the floor rumbled again and Vergil knew what was coming. You placed your hands on the ground, widening your eyes and furrowing your brows, having never felt that before.

For a split second, you caught a glimpse of what was going on: Dante harnessing his power, ready to explode. You had never saw that. You had never saw his eyes devoid of his humanity. You had never seen your Dante as a complete demon like it was happening at that moment.

And, something that you had never been conscious to witness, Vergil threw himself over you to protect your body from his brother’s wrath. You had to cower behind his frame, gripping Vergil’s coat lapel for dear life, but still feeling the burning of a thousand degrees engulf you.

The blue devil didn’t even waver – but both of you had something in your eyes… The dread of the harrowing knowledge that that was Dante. All that destruction, that chaos, that blood… It was all Dante.

You were right, after all. His rage was the scariest to see.

“I need t-…” Your voice was raspy, having to stop mid phrase to cough some more blood that needed to come out of your lungs. “I need to talk to him.” You tried to take a deep breath, but once again it just stopped with a harsh sting on your chest. “He needs to know I’m alive.”

“Hmmm.” Vergil agreed with his head, but you knew he was still pondering what you had said. He helped you up on your feet – doing more of the work than you, easily lifting your body with his strength. “Dante isn’t himself at the moment…” Again, Vergil stood in front of you like a guardian, gripping the Yamato with both hands as soon as he saw you could stand by yourself. If you faltered, though, he was quick enough to hold you. “You must keep that in mind.”

“I know… And I am scared.” You answered in a whisper, looking over Vergil’s shoulder only to see Dante mercilessly slaughtering the last unlucky demons. “But it’s still Dante.”

Vergil didn’t know what to do, if he was being honest with himself. He could have held you back and kept you safe, as his demonic side told him to do, but something inside told him he should let you do what you had to do. Those silvery eyes watched as you bravely walked in haste towards danger; towards hell and doom, ready to embrace it… And willing to make it stop.

“Dante! Dante, love!” You kept calling, but, as Vergil feared before, his brother didn’t respond. He was too far gone, too lost in Hell to come back that easily. Vergil followed your steps slowly, lingering like a shadow behind you… Ready to do whatever he needed to do if Dante’s demon didn’t even recognize you in that blind rage. “Dante! You can stop now… Dante!”

With all the filthy bloody corpses piling up on the floor, that flaming red-hot demonic figure slowly turned its head towards you. Covered in blood, sword dripping with red, molten lava eyes raining all its hollow pain. Expressionless, as he always was on his Sin Devil Trigger, made of fire and coal, hate and rage.

Did he recognize you…? Did he understand what was going on…? Vergil’s grip on Yamato got stronger, ready to unleash a blow on his brother in order to protect you. What you were doing was a gamble – and one with not so nice odds to you. There was a reason why Vergil let Dante’s anger wear out when they were in Hell: he knew there was a good chance Dante wouldn’t even recognize him at the height of his wrath, just like it happened with Vergil on those situations. So, to say the moment at hand was dangerous was a serious understatement.

But humans would always be fascinating, wouldn’t they…? At least, that was what Vergil thought. That towering demon with a flaming chest and leathery wings turned towards you, carrying his huge sword dripping with demonic blood, doing nothing but heavy breathing – and you decided to fearlessly walk towards it.

Humans.

Vergil kept his distance, watching it all unfolding with a weary heart and a trigger hand at ready to fight his brother – to death, if he unfortunately needed to – in order to protect you. He couldn’t have the certainty you had, as your steps kept going in Dante’s direction.

Your legs were shaking, your knees were trembling, but… It was your lover. It was Dante. No matter how much he was lost into his frenzy and wrath, you had to believe his heart would remember you. His soul. It all happened because he thought he had lost you, he had to come back upon knowing you were alright.

It didn’t matter how horrid his wrath looked like, you knew he was in there somewhere.

“Dante… It’s me, I’m alright…” Your voice was still a whisper, unable to speak too loud, but also trying to soothe the anger in his heart. You hesitantly reached out to him, making a growl rumble inside his chest and your steps stop for a while – with Vergil half-unsheathing his sword, ready to fight. “Love…” You called again, breathing as deeply as you could, resuming your walking and extending your hand towards him. “My Dante…”

You were finally at arm’s reach. Vergil held his breath, eyebrows furrowed, silvery predator eyes fixated on what was supposed to be his brother. You raised your hand higher, resting it on Dante’s face.

His Sin Devil Trigger form was nothing but rough. His skin seemed like hard leather and rocky coal, burning so hot it could almost hurt your hand. You wouldn’t back down though: compared to him, you were soft and cold, too fragile and breakable; but you wouldn’t leave. You caressed his rough face, fingers feeling the sharp teeth, the spiky crevices, the unwelcoming features of a face made in Hell.

You felt, though, an unlikely moisture reaching your fingers: a droplet, running from those fiery, empty eyes – those inhuman eyes. You looked at it running through your fingers to the back of your hand, looking back into those frightening eyes that had nothing of a soul in them…

But he was there, wasn’t he? It was him, a part of him that Dante always fought so relentlessly to keep hidden, to keep on a tight leash in the deepest corner of his self. You could see Dante in those eyes – and, as soon as that realization washed through the demon’s body, his head leaned into your hand.

With a flaming spark, the red devil was gone and you had the man back: tired, desolated, falling apart. Dante still leaned his head into your hand – now with soft skin, smooth lips, closed eyes and flowy white hair – almost like an animal that had never been touched with kindness in a whole lifetime. As he opened his eyes, you could see the redness of his tears crowning those sky-blue tones you always loved so much… And there was nothing but fragile vulnerable humanity in them.

“Hi, cowboy…” You whispered with a shadow of a smile on your lips, while your very eyes poured tears – you didn’t know what kind of tears, though, if of happiness, sadness, desperation, pity or love. Maybe all of them at the same time: it was inherently human to feel more than words could describe. You caressed his face as Dante himself started to pour all of his feelings out – this time, not in a fit of rage. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I thought I lost you.” His coarse voice came through as if Dante had been weeks without speaking and his very own vocal cords were barely working. You didn’t doubt his body would be in pain after all he had been through during… That. “I thought… You were gone. I’d never see you again, you were… Like… Like…” Dante closed his eyes again, head hanging low. He could barely breathe as the words fought to get out of his chest and stop suffocating him. His tears hitting the floor while you took his hair out of the way so you could see his face – there was nothing but pain; a pain that hadn’t been healed since he was a child. “Like everyone in my damned fuckin’ life; those things… I thought they had extinguished… Your light, like everyone… Like everyone eventually does… By my side…”

That was rare. Very rare. Dante was very honest with his feelings and usually didn’t hide anything from you, but not to that point – the point where he would honestly and openly say how much he thought he was the thing that doomed everyone else who decided to live with him or be friends with him. That loathing he had inside his heart, that he hid so carefully, it wasn’t something he would say out loud – it was something you knew because you always understood him so well.

You let go of his hair and locked your arms around his large frame, resting your head on his chest – you could hear his heart beating, his human heart. Dante hesitated for the very first time in his life, keeping his arms by your side for a split second, his teary eyes shocked with your reaction.

After all, you had just seen his absolute worst. All the things he always smothered so much inside himself, keeping them on check, always so controlled. You had seen it in all its spiteful and horrid glory – and your reaction was to embrace him instead of running away. Dante expected you to run, it would honestly be the logic and most human thing to do after seeing all of that.

But you walked towards him with your heart beating in fear, touching his face to grab him out of the pit of wrath he was buried into, holding him tightly in your arms as he broke down in all his anger, misery, trauma and self-loathing.

It lasted a split of a second indeed – for soon Dante’s strong arms were wrapped around your fragile body, keeping you close and safe from harm… As well as having his face buried on your neck, crying all that smothered pain inside of his heart out. Your bodies were too exhausted to keep standing for too long – so when your knees wavered, Dante did the same and you kneeled on the floor, never letting go of each other; Dante holding you as tight as he could, promising himself he would never let go.

Vergil could finally put Yamato to rest. When they were in Hell, he allowed his brother’s rage to wear off while observing from afar. This time, he could do the same: guarding you and quietly keeping you both safe and sound.

A sad ghost of a smile graced the Dark Slayer’s lips as he calmly observed you. Maybe his brother was right after all, and he could only wish someday he would be as strong as Dante to carry such power.

spoken like you were some golden statue, tsukuyo was almost disappointed when she first met you. quiet, a bit shy and awkardly polite. you trailed slowly a few feet behind gintoki, hands clasped in front of you as you prepared to give her a hello. you certainly didn’t really seem as “strong-willed” and “wild”, as he had put it.

you seemed like an outsider to what was supposed be such a close knitted group of people, she wonders how you even got wrapped up with all of them. no normal person would willingly want to hang out with someone like gintoki, and you seemed a little too normal.

she wonders, with both honesty and raw entertainment with you, what kind of person you really are. gintoki isn’t the type to be this antsy when emotion racks through him, and she’s never seen him like this before.

she watches gintoki pick out all the azuki beans from your meal, one by one, for minutes on end, as you portioned the dessert you ordered with skillful precision. she watches you lean over to him, say something quiet and inaudible, with such a neutral look on your face, only for him to burst out laughing.

she watches how he outstretches his hands towards you when he doesn't know about something, and how he marvels at how there's nothing you seem to not know. she watches how he walks just a bit in front of you, seemingly done out of simply walking speed, but upon a closer inspection, an intentional, protective way of keeping you close to him.

the sly, snarky grins he'd flash at you whenever he had an opportunity to tease you. it's almost like a silent, "you should be thankful i kept my mouth shut." and she could tell he liked the way you'd pout at him, turning to him with this conflicted, embarrassed look on your face, before you'd turn your body back to her, wobbling to finish your sentance. if he didn't, he wouldn't be doing it so much, and certainly without that fond smile.

she watches how you begin to relax. a question she asked about what type of work you do seemed to loosen you up, shoulders drooping and your words coming out a bit more fluid. she watches how expressive your hands are when you talk, raising them in circles and pointing as you annunciate whatever joke or story you tell.

she’s very amused by the quiet, judgemental glance you give gintoki whenever he says anything out of line. most people, herself included, would act out in comical displays of annoyance, but you shoot him this judgemental glare that shuts him up in seconds. once, he actually audibly said the words "i'm sorry", to which he smiled at your own amusement.

she watches how whenever he talks, you take a chance to continue eating and drinking, staring at the wall a little dazed and wide-eyed. you’re not quite zoning out, because you always have something to add to whatever stupid thing he rambles about, but she wonders what goes through your head during those moments.

she watches as you tug at his sleeve, a small movement as to not draw attention to yourself. he takes the cue and leans over, face almost touching yours, his shoulder and arm leaning against yours. he carefully listens to what you have to say, and turns to gruffly whisper a response to you.

you excuse yourself for a moment, a little wobbly after your first drink. he holds a hand to hold your arm as you stand, making sure you don’t topple over. his eyes follow you out, before returning to his almost empty cup of liquor. she raises a brow at him, holding up a pinky.

"so? are you guys...?"

he looks dumbfounded, an exaggerated look of shock- how could she ever assume that he would date anyone? but she watches at how he flushes, just a bit, and sheepishly leans away from you when you return- perhaps out of embarrassment for her sudden breach of privacy.

and when gintoki bends down and roughly hoists you up by the legs, repeating again and again to her that he's taking you home so you don't get lost, she pauses and takes a good look at you.

cheeks flushes, eyes gently closed, with tears of your bouts of laughter still clinging to your eyelashes- hair unkempt and shaggy against your skin, she realizes how pretty you really are. a breathy laugh escapes your lips as your arms find their way around his neck.

"they always get like this when they drink." he says, voice low.

and the next time she sees him, he comes alone to yoshiwara. the first thing she does is ask where you are. it dawns on her, that that's why they all like you so much. shy you may be, but your impact is everlasting- charm and generousity that you all know he doesn't deserve. perhaps that's why you're worshipped so greatly.

so she smiles at him, "when are you gonna say something to them?"

"about what?"

"how much you like them. better do it now before someone else does."

she can't help but sigh when he begins insisting, that from the bottom of his heart, he really doesn't have any feelings towards you. "gin-chan wouldn't lie!" he says.

but he leaves yoshiwara with a gift. it’s a small one, just a small, 12 oz bottle of liquor, but it’s hand picked by gintoki himself. she asks who it’s for since that’s “not usually the type of liquor either of them drink,” and again, for a brief and honest moment, he flushes. it’s almost cute how bashful he can be, she thinks to herself while carefully wrapping it in a box. if only he didn’t try so hard to convince those around him that it’s definitely not for you, and for his other friend nobody knows about.

but as tsukuyo watches him tuck the wrapped box of bottled alcohol carefully in his yukata, a look of contemplation finds its way on his face.

"things right now," he begins, right before he heads home, "are fine like this. we're just waiting."

"waiting for what? is something gonna happen?"

he shakes his head, "until neither of us can take it anymore."

"well," she starts, beginning her goodbye, "if you need anything, you know who to ask."

he nods, staying quiet this time instead of spitting out some stupid rude remark about how he never needs any help.

“and gintoki, tell them to visit on their own next time. i’d like to see them again.” he looks surprised for a moment, but he nods nonetheless. he jolts, realizing his confirmation of her request gave it away that this gift is for you. tsukuyo smirks at him.

"There's a romance mechanic in the game, Vinny," you laughed a little, your smile soft while you explained to him, "my character can date some other characters in-game, they can even get married."

He continued to frown, in even further confusion than before. "...Aren't you playing a fighting game?"

"It's an RPG," you corrected, "and fighting isn't the only thing we do in-game, there's also alchemy, crafting, farming, cooking, socializing."

"...Huh," he stepped to stand directly behind you, looking decidedly less lost but somehow... intrigued. "What is the guy you're dating like?"

You almost rolled your eyes in fond exasperation but decided to keep it to yourself. It wasn't like you didn't know where his interest came from. "His name is Leon," you sighed with a dreamy smile, "he's so...."

Instead of explaining further, you dissolved into shy giggles.

Somehow, that puzzled Vinny even further. Maybe it was because of the fact you never acted this way around him. Though, you had definitely done it behind his back before. Mostly to your friend, also to your pillow before screaming into it when your affection for him overwhelmed you.

You used to be so adorable and lovelorn. Those were the days.

Now, you had to deal with the very person you spent months crushing on getting jealous over you liking... pixels.

"He doesn't look that good," Vinny grumbled, a bit disgruntled by his discovery. "What about this guy?"

He pointed to another character on-screen, Doug. However, that only amused you further. "He's fine, but I don't really like him. Besides, by the time his romance unlocked, better prospects have already arrived long ago."

Before Vinny's scowl could be deepened any further, you pointed to another character. "For example, Dylas, he was my first pick. He's very aloof and standoffish at first. Most of the time, it made him awkward and a bit rude. It doesn't help that he's short-tempered, too."

Vinny opened his mouth to argue something but closed it before he could dig his own grave. He turned into huffing instead, not that it did anything but endear him further.

"I really like him because he's actually kind and gentle deep down. Even if he appeared cold and intimidating at first, once I got to know him, he's very sweet... albeit unreasonably jealous sometimes."

"I—"

Whatever retort he had vanished the moment you turned over and pulled him down, Vinny effectively went silent when your lips found his. You allowed him to savour it long enough that it took away any of his anger. In the end, whatever gripe he had with the game went away with a simple kiss.

Once the two of you parted, his frown became a poor cover to his reddening cheeks instead.

"Of course, none of them could compare to my favourite love interest of all time, my amazing boyfriend." You tapped his nose. "I'd tell you to stop pouting but it's pretty hilarious to see you glaring at fictional characters."

Not that you minded. “Can you help me apply sunscreen? it’s not easy to reach my back.”

Vinny swallowed the lump in his throat. Was it always there? He could blame the rapid reddening of his skin on the sun, but he knew it was not the heat that was at fault. It wouldn't be fair to blame you either. It was him, his wandering eyes, and he should answer you before it became weird. “Fine, turn around,” Vinny took the extended tube of sunscreen from you, glancing at anything but the view of your cleavage.

Maybe the less he looked, the more bearable the heat would be. Yet, he had to look to apply the sunscreen on your back. He found out there were strings there too. Strings which would be hazardous if untied.

He accidentally squirted too much of the sunscreen on his hand. “W-What are you wearing?”

You glanced back to him inquisitively, ignorant to his current fluster. “…?” Continuing with that round-eyed look, you tilted your head curiously, unaware of his predicament. “A swimsuit?”

"There's too much string," he grumbled, somehow pissed, "aren't you worried someone would pull on them?"

Instead of catching on to his anxiety, you only smiled, "I'm not worried," you said with surprising confidence, "I have Vinny here, no? No one will try to bother me."

"If you are sure," Vinny muttered, "let me know if you need coverage."

"Okay."

He groaned inwardly. Your trust in him was touching, but it did nothing to assuage his burning shame. It only worsened when he had to touch your skin to apply the sunscreen. His mortification had no business manifesting physically.

The reddening of his skin was bad enough, no need for the approval of the lower department. It was only morning, he didn't need this much excitement.

He didn't know if his situation improved or worsened after you applied sunscreen on his back.

Apparently, it was easy to mistake the rush of blood on his skin for the aftereffect of standing under the sun for too long. Explaining why he was feeling the way he did would've been weird, which led him to go along with the explanation you came up with.

Probably didn't help that you had to stand in close proximity to do what you did.

The two of you barely arrived at the beach for more than twenty minutes and he was ready to go home. Taking a nap was far superior to the idea of withstanding his bodily response to your presence.

“Vinny, let's get into the water," you suggested helpfully once the two of you were done with preparation, but the rejection spilt out of his lips faster than he could think.

"No."

And your ready acceptance of his refusal didn't help either. "Okay."

Immediately, the guilt hit him harder than that one time the Ghost team tricked him into getting into an accident. Yes, he went there. He couldn't bear dealing with your disappointment, even if you didn't show it on your face. "...You can go on ahead, if you want, I'll watch from here."

"Hmph, it's no fun to go alone," you kicked at the sand underfoot, sinking narrow print into where you stood.

Vinny heaved a sigh, "All right then, I'll watch at shallow water, better?"

You pressed your lips together, thinking about his suggestion. Then finally, you nodded. "I will stay in the shallow water as well."

In spite of himself, he smiled, "Let's go then,"

"Hey, Vinny!"

That was the only warning he got before a splash of cool saltwater came his way. He spluttered at the assault of salt in his mouth, managed to close his eyes but not his mouth on time.

"Why you—" His indignant response scarcely got the chance to come out of his mouth before another splash of seawater went his way. "Come back here!"

Unfortunately, you have the initiative in this meant you already had a headstart by the time he recovered enough to follow you into deeper water. Truly, he couldn't see how you thought you'd get out of this unscathed once you declared war on him.

He'd have you dunked into the water the moment he got his hands on you. "I'll get you back for this!" His warning rang hollow when he failed to catch up with you.

It would've been his victory had both of you been on land, but neither you nor he had an advantage when it came to waddling through the current of water.

As he got close to snatch you, his hand managed to catch on something else instead. The pull came to him unconsciously and by the time his sense gathered enough for him to know what was going on, he was already holding a piece of elastic fabric in his hand. You, on another hand, had sunken down to the water to the point where only your head was visible.

"Uh..."

He glanced at the bikini top then glanced back at you. With your back facing him, he couldn't see what you were feeling, but he knew you were probably no better than him a moment earlier.

Guess that was payback enough. No need for him to pursue his vengeance further. He lost interest, anyway.

"Can I have it back?" You peeked back at him nervously, your arms were covering the front of your chest.

It was then that Vinny noticed he was standing around shell-shocked for a solid minute, not knowing what to do with the situation at hand. Once again, mortified, his embarrassment morphed into anger.

"Fuck, this is what I warned you about." Vinny handed the bikini top to you, covering his face with his other hand. "Damn thing got too many strings."

"Sorry!"

He clicked his tongue, turning away the moment you received the item back from him.

It was not so much the fact that he was trying to not look, more so that he was battling how responsive his own blood was to his bashfulness. He was only trying to collect himself while you tried to recover from this little incident.

The second worry came to him the second he got over himself. His eyes darted around to ensure no one else saw what happened. As he kept check for any unwanted voyeur, he waddled over to shield you with his body.

Likely an unnecessary action with the coverage that the sea provided, but he didn't want to take any chances.

"Thanks," you smiled up at him gratefully, but like before, Vinny tried to keep his eyes away.

"Yeah, yeah, it was my fault anyway," he muttered, "don't wear something with so many strings next time."

Once you secured the knots of your top once more, you rose back up to his level. Arguably, you'd probably need to tiptoe on a stool to face him, but it was better than when you were submerged under the water.

"I mean, it was a little funny," you said, "could've been worse."

Vinny scoffed, but there was no heart in it. "We're going back to the beach," he took your hand in his, fingers intertwined, "maybe building castles or some shit would keep us out of troubles for once."

"Okay~"

— He has a slower refractory period so he prefers to have one long session instead of multiple rounds. Even if you wanted to go multiple rounds with him, then you'd have to do through the day because Vinny won't want to go again immediately.

In fact, if you wanted, you can spend a few hours in bed with him after the first round. After cleaning up, he's content with laying down with you and cuddle.

He's pretty sleepy after every time he came, so he might just want to take a nap before anything else.

— He's not much of a groomer for what goes on down there, mostly because he's not hairy. Other than keeping himself hygienic, he pretty much lets it stay natural.

Yes... the carpet definitely matches the drape, the first time you saw it, you had to take a minute to be like... yeah, that makes sense.

Meanwhile, Vinny is freaking out because you accidentally saw him naked. Priority.

— His size is definitely proportioned to his body, have you seen his hands. His dick is in a darker shade than the rest of his skin, but he has a pretty dick, there are noticeable veins going down there.

Honestly, when he came, it's usually condensed and sticky, which is why Vinny dislikes coming outside. The cleaning up afterwards is always a chore if he got any on the sheet.

— The most handsy he became is during sex, it's like all of his needs to touch you accumulated into this moment. He will grab whatever is within reach to pull you even closer to him, your ass, your thighs, your hip.

He also has a thing for your breast, leaving marks all over them whenever they are in his view.

— Always accidentally (or intentionally?) leaves marks and hickeys where people can see. When you complain about it, he only has that little evil grin on his lips, not even pretending that he didn't do that on purpose.

— Honestly, he's precocious, he's one of those types who learned about these matters because other boys his age knew.

Since he lords over them for a large number of years in his teenage, it's natural that he learned about it in his early years.

Because of that, he knew a lot more than the average person, but couldn't care less about the application. It's not something he needed to employ.

— He spent much of his high school years being closed up, it was normal for him to go on with his days without experience attraction for another.

Until he saw how pretty your nape is and his eyes lingered a bit too long... suddenly, he's the one thinking about everything he shouldn't.

Curse you and your ability to bewitch him.

— I can see him trying to pick up condoms the first time around and the rest of the crews ran into him so now he has to pretend he's getting snacks instead.

Not really hiding because he's shy but it's because his private life is none of their business, especially what he does with you in the bed.

Everything was going smoothly until he made something drop, and suddenly, all eyes were on him.

"Really, Vinny?!"

"Ultra XXL?!"

"That was not mine, damnit!"

Whether if it was his or not, it's still a mystery until this day. However, he knew he will go down his grave with this.

You'll not learn about this, not from any of his crewmates, and especially not from him.

— He dislikes the idea that all teenage boys are subject to their hormonal urges in the beginning, so it will be a while before he actually does anything about it.

Wouldn't like to scare you with the idea he's a deviant bastard either. In the beginning, he suppressed himself a lot, which makes him moodier and more sensitive around you.

If you touched him in surprise, he will jump, try not to snap, then turn away while trying to hide his embarrassment.

— Once he eased up, Vinny proves himself to be an intense but attentive partner. He becomes much more assertive with his movements. His kisses are more purposeful and overwhelming, which made him kissing you on the lips fewer than before.

However, every time he does it, he's meant to leave you lightheaded and dazed. Which somehow made it the perfect timing for him to enter you... huh.

— Has no preferences about position, but he likes to press against you when he's coming. It's pretty intense for him every time he comes, holding you basically grounds him during the process. He will always kiss you afterwards, often forehead then lips.

Vinny is often less uptight afterwards, he's much more relaxed and a little loopy. You'll need to give him a minute before he pops back up again.

If you don't need anything in the immediate moment, he often flops on his back next to you and lets you snuggle to his side.

— Once again, doesn’t really care where he comes, but the first time he comes on your face, it does make him feel a little weird inside. Good weird, to be specific.

He likes to come inside because it's less messy, if anything, the clean-up is too much of a bother for him even if it's hot for him to see his cum on your skin. Flip of a coin, really, depends on what you prefer, too.

Definitely kisses after oral, he doesn't care, if he wants to kiss you then he will kiss you.

— He's not... averse to communicating his needs. If Vinny wants you, you will feel it from across the room. His eyes are full of heat and intentions, his touches always linger a bit too long, and he spends a lot of times around you in general.

Honestly, if you don't catch on soon, he will get impatient. He's not into the idea of doing it in public because there are too many risks of getting caught, but if he has to do it, then he would at least drag you to a nearby motel.

It's pretty obvious to your friends what he intended to do, but Vinny ain't waiting for no one, least of all his crewmates.

— Try to tease him and sees where that get you, Vinny is extremely blunt and often perceptive enough to catch on with whatever you were playing.

Often, this resulted him pulling aside and telling you to cease this fooling around before he stopped being patient with you or him teasing you right back, his intimate touches on you with the effectiveness being tenfold.

It really all depends on how much of your dignity you want to preserve, really.

— He tops as a full time job, I'm penning an apology letter for those who wants to top him. Don't even think you're getting control by being on top of him, good luck with that.

It's not a power thing for him though, he doesn't really care about games and plays. Most of the kinks where one holds power over the other doesn't sit with him. Roleplaying is also weird for him, to be honest.

— He prefers the two of you to be straightforward, maybe with some edging or overstimulation depending on the night. Other than that, putting on an act doesn't really appeal to him.

Don’t even think about call him daddy, it makes him violently ill. He has to pull back and sit to contemplate about which action in his life had led him to this point.

— However, if you prefer one of the rougher aspects, choking or spanking, Vinny will indulge you kindly. Don't ask how he knows how to choke to avoid suffocating you, he just knows.

He's gentler than expected when it comes to spanking... don't tell him to use full force, he's an athlete, you won't survive him using full force. Like, you should've gotten that idea from how he railed you.

— Prefers giving over receiving, mostly because receiving requires him to sit back and do nothing. He once cleared ten Candy Crush stages while receiving head from you before, it's not the proudest thing he has done.

Letting him fuck your face though... that's another story entirely. Better destroy your gag reflex to ensure this man will love you forever.

— Often has a hand on the back of your head when you're going down on him, will order you to touch yourself while you service him. But if it's him giving, his hands are on you lmao they ain't going nowhere near his dick.

He's not happy with just oral either, it's just foreplay for him. A little fun side dish thing, more on the same line as a quickie than anything. If you both have time, you're getting railed after he ate you out, no quesiton asked.

— He won't even mind you trying to sit on his face... only to see how long you can last with his mouth right under you.

Somehow, he always manages to have you end up on your back again, it's not even worth it trying to challenge him.

— Not really romantic about the whole ordeal, in general. He's not really a romantic person to begin with? Like, if you got this far then you must know he loves you, right?

On that same note, he's not very verbal during the process. Unless he's taunting you or filling your ears with dirty words, chances are he'll make more inaudible noises than actually talking.

Even when he comes, the most you will get from him is a strained groan. His eyes shut close, his brows furrowed, his lips pressed together.

— As mentioned before, he doesn't really have a sex drive outside of a relationship. Because of that, if you were to be away for a while, Vinny will try to hold it in until you came home no matter how frustrated it made him.

He can't do anything through phone, text or calls, both are too awkward for him to comprehend. However, to compensate for this, he will take you like a possessed man once he has you in his arms again.

— Hnng, he love lazy sex in the morning, those are the best way to start the day for him. However, he can't do it often because he always extra lazy afterwards.

Whenever this happens, Vinny has the tendency to plop on you afterwards, unwilling to move and be a sloth for a day.

— His drive fluctuates. There are short peiods when he wants you like crazy, but there are long periods where he only wants to chill and cuddle.

It's pretty easy for you to coax him into doing anything though. He has the tendency to warn you “don't start anything you can't take” when you get too heavy with your kissing and fondling, but it's often the fastest way to get him to act.

— In the beginning, at least more than once he lets you sit on his lap then has to hastily shove you off because he was getting a boner, lord help Vinny because no one else will.