Months passed before I saw him again.

The rain was pouring outside, drowning my pitiful excuse of a garden and bringing a torrent of water rushing down the street alongside dirt, leaves and the occasional colorful rubble. The rain hit the metal pipes attached to the structure constantly, providing a soothing accompaniment to the constant crackling the flames made from the fireplace.

I found myself lost in the somewhat sweet scent of the burning oak logs as well as the recurring sounds outdoors, enjoying the simplicity of the moment. However, my state of bliss was interrupted as the door was opened, intensifying the sound of the rain hitting the cement for a few seconds before it became muffled as the barrier between the living room and the outside was closed softly, followed by quiet footsteps that startled me and made me jerk my head towards the sound to identify the uninvited guest.

Vergil was soaking wet, his snowy hair brushed down as a result of the intense rain and his coat slowly dripping the excess water into the floor. He wasn't pleased, I could notice by the irritation etched into his features in the form of a scowl, his icy eyes filled with abhorrence as he clutched a gold colored object tightly in his hand almost to the point of crushing it to pieces. I even dared to say that he looked exhausted.

"It's been awhile." I said softly as a greeting; feeling my heartbeat return to its normal rhythm after seeing his familiar face, yet a pang of uneasiness crept in me after seeing his hostile body language.

"I have been busy lately." He replied. His icy eyes bore into mine before he walked past me to the fireplace and knelt down gracefully, inspecting his inquiring object before dropping it into the tantalizing flames that, powered by the foreign item, morphed into a swirling spike of orange and red hues that saturated the warm atmosphere with a wave of heat that propagated quickly around the house, emitting a sulfuric smell that made me cringe involuntarily. The air felt dense and heavy; completely breaking the balance it used to have and plaguing it with an eerie sensation.

I opened my mouth to ask about the odd reaction of the flames when I noticed something that restrained me for uttering a single word.

The scene in front of me was surreal and felt almost like a dream that slowly progressed into a nightmare as I kept staring. The uneasiness was back with fear that was building higher with each moment that passed and soon invaded all my senses, successfully making me feel numb.
As Vergil stood facing the flames I found myself irrevocably staring at the dark figure that spread from the soles of his boots to the clear space behind him, a grand shadow that ranged out with the silhouette of an outrageous creature of harsh features with what looked like a set of horns sprouting from the upper sides of his head.

He turned to face me as if somehow he knew how I was feeling, and when his eyes lingered on mine I felt frightened and powerless, like a prey facing its inevitable fate by the hands of a hunter. I wanted to run, to scream and curse my ingenuousness for allowing a man that I barely knew to enter my life and mark it with his singularity. But then I asked myself: what difference would it make if I ran, shouted, quivered or took a stand to face the truth? And the answer came crashing over bitter and painfully; no matter what I did now it would only delay what I knew it would come.

Vergil knew why I was afraid. He kept an stoic expression on his face as he strode over to me smoothly, spiking my fear even further until I felt invisible droplets of cold sweat prickling at my skin. In a desperate attempt to get away from the situation, I backed away a few steps as my gaze kept locked on his eyes until the rough texture of the wall hit my back unexpectedly. Every fiber of my being wanted to escape, to run away so far that this moment could only be seen as an excruciating fantasy…But I couldn't.

"I find ironic that you yearn for what you fear." Vergil spoke as he glowered at my trembling frame. I couldn't stand looking at the eyes that I had found myself lost in countless times. I felt betrayed, stripped out of the conformity I had irrationally created.

He came dangerously close to me; his body scarce inches for mine so he could say the following words slowly, in a velvety tone barely about a whisper with an undertone that I was trying hard to ignore. "If I wanted you dead, I would have done the task a long time ago."

Whatever was his reasoning behind those words, they provided anything but relief to my distressed mind.

"I wish you'd leave…" I said as sternly as I could but failed at in my attempt to appear strong.

"You wish that I would leave, but do you want me to?"

I looked up at him in surprise, trying to unwisely find the correct answer on his face. Did I really want him gone after all? Did I want to be stripped bare from the crackled illusion I've created? I knew that saying the word that he wanted to hear- and that I wanted to say- would only promise to deliver a blow to my sanity and well-being. Was it worth risking everything for this?

"No." Everything felt wrong and right at the same time; a perfect balance between two incompatible choices.

He leaned forward, his warm lips brushed against mine softly in a way that almost fooled me as tenderly to escalate into a harsh kiss that lasted for scarce seconds before he broke it, making me desperately yearn for more of his touch.

This was how much power he had on me. Even If I knew it was wrong and nothing good could ever result from this, even if I was well aware of the fact that this was just a game of cat and mouse were I would never come out on top; I craved for his imposing presence, his ruthlessness, all his perfection and imperfection. He was right, I was afraid of him and at the same time I wanted him more than anything.

I was playing with fire and it would be only a matter of time before I got burned.

This was the time when I became fully aware that, until he allowed me to, this would be an endless cycle, a fine line between illusion and reality, between my fear and my desire.

He didn't love me. I'm not sure how I felt about him.
And yet, we didn't need to rephrase that. I didn't need to hear it from his mouth to know it was true and he didn't need a verbal response to realize it.

What we had was unconventional, complicated, horrifying and full of doubts and false hope.

I can't picture it being any other way, nor would I want it to.

The feeling was mutual.

"They yearn for what they fear for."- Dante Alighieri.

Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it.

Disclaimer: Devil May Cry and its characters belong to Capcom.