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[check out collage of Vergil]

Papers, please.

Currently, Vergil's favorite game, and at the same time his secret life goal. Whereas his parents saw the boy reaching as far as NASA, Vergil saw nothing wrong with sitting in a 3 square meters booth checking people's passports, ID cards etc before stamping their passes: valid/invalid.

It didn't require much conversation. He'd just ask the purpose and duration of visit, and then he'd most likely never see them again. After all, they were crossing the border from one state to another, and Vergil would be at that one critique point.

In-between places. Thrilling concept. Would he be on both states? Certainly not, matter can only exist at one singular juncture of space and time. Would he be nowhere, then? Why, is nowhere even a concept itself? It can't not be, since it's mentionable, but at the same time...

Vergil blinked away his thoughts and continued clicking. The most boring game on the entire planet, and yet he could spend hours on it. It didn't have an 'endless' option for no reason.

He was interrupted by a pebble tapping his window. It wasn't even something new, you could tell by all the scrapes and marks on the glass.

It meant Stevo.

It meant... trouble.

And yet, as always, Vergil let himself convinced into joining.

Him, Stevo and Ethan were at a punk gig. One may take a wild guess at who came up with the idea.

It was literally underground, in what must've been a bunker back on war days. Not at all roomy, and due to that, the ones that did take the effort to fit in were dedicated punks. They jumped all around to the unsettling music blasting all over the place.

The singer, a girl, was simply screeching into the microphone while the other members seemingly played their own separate song. Nothing matched, no harmony, no structure, it was making Vergil want to cover his ears, but that'd get him glares and even punches.

He was starting to lose track of his friends, which was steadily unsettling him more and more by the second. The stone floor was sticky one moment and slippery the other, he was starting to really lose his footing, and all the shoving around helped none.

Hands took hold of his hips and turned him around, only for him to face a pair of breasts nearly spilling out of a tight corset.

The girl had short, fluffy, orange hair just as strident as her style of clothing and makeup. Even someone that didn't relate to the punk genre, such as Vergil, could find her attractive.

But thing is... Vergil could barely wrap his head around interacting with men, he could at least say there were things they naturally had in common, but girls... They were something entirely out of his sphere of comprehension.

Hence, when she started grinding against him, he could only keep his arms glued to his sides, breathing heavily. He wouldn't know what spots on her body would trigger her, so he just kept to himself and hyperventilated instead.

"Let me go let me go, please let me go..." he was nearly twisting his neck to keep his head as far to the side as possible.

But she wouldn't, and it wasn't until Ethan came to rescue, gripping his arm and through much struggle managing to pull him out of there, that Vergil noticed he was crying.

The outside was a wooded area, all the greenery serving to hide the tiny hell, halfway out the earth. He wiped his tears and breathed in much needed fresh air before hurrying into a bush to sit down.

Between many tiny leafs which he was starting to count, he could see Ethan's legs, his weight shifting from one to the other.

His lips just mouthed 'thirty-two' when his friend's vans started approaching him, tiny shards and rubbish rustling under his soles.

"It's all right, buddy." Ethan crouched down in front of him. His face was mostly visible through the leafs. One may just take a male fashion magazine, pick a random page, and that was Ethan. He was typically perfect in the sense that he fit every standard for modeling: tall, lean fit, square jaw, large eyes, well defined nose and Adam's apple, all that.

Why was he even bothering with Vergil? Short, scrawny, and a little cute just because he had somewhat feminine features inherited from his mother. His hair had no shape or style, just black strands he would run the hairbrush through 20 times in the morning.

"All right? What's an all right thing about what just happened?" Vergil asked in genuine curiosity. Perhaps it was just another social thing he didn't understand.

Ethan chuckled. "Why, a girl was into you. That's a good thing."

Vergil bowed his head and circled his right knee with a pointer. "Do you think she loves me?"

He heard a scoff and snapped his head up, eyebrows raised.

"Don't get me wrong, you're totally lovable, but this isn't the sort of place people come to for love. This is the sort of place people come to for kicking around, taking drugs and eventually shagging."

Shagging... The concept yet again made Vergil's face lose all color. He could not see it as something logical. To him it was just the act itself and not the feelings it would induce. The male would stick this random thing dangling out of his body into the cavity in a female's body and--

He wheezed out a breath and crossed his arms on his knees, hiding half of his face into them.

"She wants us to..."

"I'd say so, yeah." Ethan laughed encouragingly. "Come on, now, it's your chance."

His chance... His chance to be Vergil. Not Vergil the Virgin.

He raised his head from behind his arms. "What do I do?"

---------

Vergil kept stumbling left and right, but he was starting to get used to it, the way you would to an earthquake. Hence, he could fully process the view before him. Random bodies would jump or twirl across his vision, but it was still clear as day.

Stevo had an arm around the girl, they were laughing as the blue haired man handed her a few bills and tugged down her corset. He then let her go and swatted her bum, at which the girl got on looking left and right.

Looking for Vergil, Vergil assumed.

As the girl ventured rightwards, Vergil sneaked his way through the crowd until he got to Stevo. He did his best to ignore the other people hanging out with the guy, only looking at Stevo despite the uncomfortable stares.

"What do you think you're doing!" he yelled, not only to go heard over the music but because he was seriously pissed.

Stevo grinned his brain-dead grin. "Don't worry about paying me back, what are pals for?"

Vergil shrugged off the hand on his shoulder, most likely Ethan from behind. "Pals are for accepting each other no matter what! Couldn't stand being friends with the virgin could you!"

He turned around when Ethan kept trying to bring his attention. "You too! You were in it too weren't you!"

Ethan cocked his head and frowned. "It wasn't my idea, but... Look, we only wanted you to have a good time."

"A good time! Do I look like I'm having a..." his voice died, far too strained from trying to overdo the singer's. He was surprised she wasn't coughing up blood by now.

Ethan looked at him as if for the first time, taking in the tears, heavy breaths and bruises from mingling around. "I'll... take you home."

"What? We've only been here an hour!" Stevo complained.

"That's right, Ethan, it's only been an hour. I'll manage." Vergil murmured, not even caring if it went heard, and left.

Yeah sure he'd manage. He didn't even begin to hope he'd make it home safe and sound, not in his town. It was kind of a weird place, really: as long as the sun watched over the streets, everywhere you looked there were just old people and cats. A ridiculous amount of cats, for some reason.

However, the moment light no longer cast its rays over the streets like an interrogator over their suspect, teenagers and young adults crawled out to look for trouble. Fun and trouble. Well, from his life experiences, Vergil was guessing that normal people saw those as a package deal.

So then when a group of men approached him on the same sidewalk he was, he could only bow his head and put his hands in his pockets. Poor Vergil wouldn't know that such vulnerable, cowardly attitude was actually what attracted the impulse to crush.

A man from the group smirked at him and started talking German. Vergil felt his ears and cheeks burn as he took tiny steps away from them.

"I- Ich spreche kein Deutsch..." he mumbled shakily. (I don't speak German)

His accent must've been way off, because they all started laughing like kids to a magic show. The one that spoke before poked him in the chest, continuing to speak German. Judging by his tonality and bitter grin he was picking at Vergil for his previous claim, as if there was some unspoken rule that every American had to know German by heart.

"Es tut mir leid!" (I'm sorry)

The man laughed again and then punched Vergil.

-------

"I just don't get it mother! People are all so weird!" he whined, shamelessly sinking into her warm, soft embrace. "Why'd they pick on me every time? Why'd they care I'm a virgin if they're friends? Why are they offended by my lack of German knowledge if we're not in Germany?"

The woman kept rubbing his arm up and down, keeping her jaw, identical to Vergil's, on top of his head. She sighed lightly. "Oh, Vergil. You weren't built to understand. One can't have it all, you know. You're cute, kind, out of this world intelligent... There must be balance in the universe. Be thankful, people as gifted as you might have even worse flaws to make up for it."

Vergil let his eyelid twitch in annoyance as he gently got out of her hold. "It's getting old, mom."

Her petite head, hidden in short, fluffy hair, moved away from on top of her son's.

"Vergil, think twice before saying such things to your mother."

The boy pulled away from her embrace to glare at her through tears. "Why? Because you're the only one that puts up with my shit?"

"Yes."

Vergil gawked at her, hiccupping and wheezing. He clenched his teeth and wiped tears from his lips and cheeks before crawling under his blanket and pulling it over his head.

The woman placed a hand on the lump of blanket and rubbed slowly for a good half an hour before standing up and leaving quietly, thinking him asleep. Vergil had barely blinked an eye.

When the door closed, he sat up and slammed the drawer of his nightstand open. Tiny bottles of pills tumbled over each other. He grasped blindly and emptied a container onto the mattress, then sat there in the dark and sniffled.

He shoved a handful of pills in his mouth and held them there for a while.

As always, he spat them out and settled on continuously punching his head instead.

Autism ain't cute yo :( 

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