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Check out the video above for A Day In The Life Of Mr. Janitor!! And click the right arrow for a collage I made of his handsome face :) I'm not weird, I swear.

"Morning, mom." Vergil greeted as he entered the kitchen. He took an apple and bit into it absent-mindedly while glancing out the window. As always, a worrying amount of cats were roaming the streets.

       However deep he was into his thoughts of sexual orientations, adolescence and penalties for pedophilia, the silence in the room was starting to feel. So, he looked over his shoulder.

       His mother was covering her lower lip. Her tiny face was hidden behind big, awed eyes and fluffy black hair.

       "You took your pills again?"

       Vergil glanced aside, then back at her. "Yeah. Sure."

       She shook her head. "It's just, you're not making yourself breakfast with precise, even cuts and you haven't washed that apple twice." she looked around. "I bet you're not even counting calories, are you?"

       Vergil liked counting everything. He opted for an intake of 1235, just because it was the beginning of Fibonacci's sequence. It must've been why he was so tiny, enough so to borrow from his mother's clothes.

       He insisted that cardigans were unisex.

       "It's the, um, pills working." he mumbled.

       Her tired eyes softened, and her lips extended into a slow, clear smile. "You found that spark I was talking about, haven't you?"

       Vergil dropped his apple.

       If Mr. Janitor was that spark, that one factor to make him feel like a normal teenager, then he was going to chase that spark into a blaze of fire.

       As melodramatic as that sounded, it really... wasn't. He had no idea how to go about it. Numerous google searches just wouldn't really relate to his particular situation.

       Find out their interest!

       ...Cleaning? Computers? Watering the flowers?

       Offer them a gift!             

       ...A broom? A computer? A flower?

       Attach a letter of confession to the gift.

       ...You swept me off my feet? You overclock my processor? Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm an underage nerd, and I like you?

       He sighed, letting his pen drop onto one of his many agendas. To his right, Becca leaned in to try and peek at his scribbles. He was busy plotting to notice.

       The classroom was coated in low murmurs since the Math professor let them solve a problem together.

       "You like someone?" Becca whisper-yelled.

       Vergil's eyes bulged out of their sockets and he looked at the direction opposite from her, taking in the walls coated in pale yellow morning light of Autumn. "I think... yes..."

       Opposite from her was none other than Ethan. His sharp jaw was clenched tight, and his eyes, covered by naturally heavy lids, were set on his Mathematics book.

       Vergil appraised him with a look and grabbed his upper arm. Ethan glanced at his fingers, then at him, both elbows on the table and head hung low.

       "Could you..." Vergil peeked at Becca, who was busy trying to make something of the scribbles coating the pages. "Could you help me ask someone out?"

       The young man returned his attention to Math. His leg started bouncing. "I'm not sure I could be of help."

       His tone was as smooth, light, warm as ever, typical of him. But his body was visibly tense.

       Vergil let go of his arm with a slow brush. Ethan raised a shoulder, cocking his head.

       "But... you've had plenty of dates."

       Ethan moved one elbow off the table, only to turn towards Vergil and approach, shoulders hunched. Despite the proximity, he wouldn't make eye contact, gaze set to Vergil's baby green t-shirt.

       "With girls." his plump lips barely moved. Vergil yet again took notice of the two tiny sharp mountains that formed the upper lip.

       Vergil shook his head a little. "Stevo told you?" he took a short breath. "A-are you mad? Why are you mad?"

       Ethan's thick eyebrows jerked towards each other. He straightened up a little, composing himself. "I'm just..." he shook his head. "I would've never thought you'd misinterpret my kindness and support I showed over the years."

       Vergil gaped. "It's not you! Ethan, I don't!" he lowered the pitch of his voice. "I don't like you!"

       The man closed his eyes slowly. "You can't even make eye contact with anyone other than me and Stevo. Were you to have a man-crush, I doubt it'd be anyone besides us. Is it Stevo, then?" he curled a nostril. "You did get him to kiss you. Which is so fucked up, by the way."

       Vergil swallowed a knot in his throat. "Why are you acting like this?" he lowered his gaze to the dusty brown floorboards. He started fidgeting with his sleeves violently. "It's neither of you."

       "Right." Ethan's leg kept on bouncing. He picked up a pencil and started solving the math problem. As if... the man was planning on becoming a model, just in order to afford being a street artist on some seafront or another. He looked good, he liked art, he liked the sea, so he figured out his future just like that.

       Vergil took a heavy, shaky breath and returned his gaze to where his agenda had once been. Becca had yet to give up her task.

       "You seem to be having a hard time asking her out." she commented, putting it down. Vergil slid it to him and closed it with a soft thud.

       "Yes." he murmured.

       She kept on smiling cheekily. "Is this crush... close to you?"

       The clock showed two minutes until break. "...You could say that."

       Silence.

       Vergil looked at her for one second, looked away, and then quickly gawked back. "It's not you, ugh!"

       Becca blushed a bright shade of red, her smile dropping to a thin slit. Even the wild curls of her brown hair seemed to drop a bit.

       Vergil covered his face. "I didn't mean it like that..."

       He heard a tentative chuckle from the girl. "You're so awkward, you know that?"

       Vergil nodded. "Sorry."

       The bell rang and he stood up, gathering his stuff and placing it in the bag. Biggest stuff on the bottom, tiniest stuff on top. Meanwhile, Ethan fled from the room. Oh his way from their spot to the door, he managed to attract three to four people into his personal space. People magnet, he was.

       Becca remained by Vergil, watching him with a tiny smile. Vergil's hands trembled with the pressure of being watched.

       "I'll help you get your date."

       Vergil took an empty breath. "Really?"

       She nodded, grinning. "Really."

       Vergil sketched a smile. He switched his footing so that he started with the left foot. Becca did the same thing, laughing as she did.

       "Are you making fun of me..." Vergil asked, genuinely confused as to whether or not she was.

       "In a way." she shrugged. "I just think it's cute."

       Vergil felt himself smile shyly.

       A tiny cactus.

       It was the only possible conclusion. Also, Becca thought it was about a girl, and so she insisted that the gift would be a flower of sorts. Vergil had to improvise and choose something as unfeminine as possible. At the same time, cute enough.

       He smiled a little, cupping the beige pot with both hands. His shoes tapped the concrete loudly as he made his way down the outside hallway, shielded by a low bricked roof, supported by thick brick columns.

       The smile erupted into a grin. It was just, the tiny little cactus looked as though it was waving at him. It grew on him since he bought it yesterday, as most inanimate objects did. Vergil found comfort in them, insects too, merely because of their vulnerability before him, their lack of conscience and therefore judgement.

       A dog would cock its head too expectantly, a cat would glare at him in hatred. Not insects. Not figurines. Not plants. Not Jerome, the tiny cactus.

       Yes, he did name every one of his silent companions.

       "Vergil the Virgin!"

       As did bullies, their silent victims.

       He looked up, lips instantly dropping to a pout. His fingers clenched around the tiny pot and his knees approached each other, his thighs didn't.

       "Whoa, that's a sweet cactus you have there, buddy!" Derk teased. Yes, Derk, the jerkiest name possible for a bully, suited him ridiculously well. "Who's it for?"

       He reached out to check the tiny paper placed on the cactus's dirt. It read Would you like to go out with me? I'll be waiting in the parking lot after school.

       Vergil was almost relieved to have this happen. It'd mean abandoning the whole operation. As much as he wanted to 'chase that spark into a blaze of fire', it was just bone-shaking to imagine him walk down the street with a man more than twice his age, holding hands.

       Holding hands... his belly did a flip and his cheeks turned red as he imagined long, thin, inked fingers wrapped around his.

       "Now that is smooth, check this out guys." Derk laughed, showing the paper to his friends: two other men and two girls. It wasn't even that bad, sometimes eight, nine people would gang up on little Vergil.

       Vergil looked away at the grass field. The school's yard was a hill shaped like huge steps (there were three rows of stairs that led down to the entrance gate). People were peeking their way from behind towering trees or the rim of their coffee cups.

       "Oh I see, you find your love interest and just forget all about us? Ignore us? That's awfully rude of you, Vergil the Virgin."

       "I don't know Derk, I'm not quite ready to let go of Vergil the Virgin. Not after all we've been through." Fred mimicked the other man's fake politeness. "If we could only put a stop to this."

       Derk got the paper back from the last person to read it. He played with it a little and reached out to put it back in the dirt. As he did, he jerked his arm downwards and sent the pot flying to the ground.

       Vergil jumped with the sound of it shattering. His pale brown vans stood pointing at each other, coated in the soil. His fingers remained midair in the shape of the tiny pot, twitching involuntarily.

       Then, the hands and vans and sad little cactus started blurring out as tears begun coating his eyes. His bangs reached just below his eyebrows, though, so the others had yet to pick on it.

       "Vergil the Virgin, you did it again!" Derk wailed. "Look at the mess he made, guys."

       One of the girls laughed while the other chose to look on her phone. The two other men, however, maintained the role-play and covered their mouths, head shaking in mockery.

       "Hey Mr. Janitor? Yes, excuse our friend here but he's a rather clumsy fellow, you see. We still love him for it." Derk laughed.

       Vergil's eyes widened and he raised his head tentatively. The janitor was a good ten meters away, leaning on one of the brick columns and smoking.

       He was looking at the mess on the ground with half-closed eyes, hand around a broom. He reached to pinch the cigarette between his lips, took a last drag and flicked it away.

       He blew out the smoke and walked right through the tiny cloud he made, broom and dustpan trailing behind. It was quite a glorious sight for someone in a blue jumpsuit.

       Vergil wanted to run away, but then he'd spread the dirt all over the place. His knees started shaking and he begun fumbling with the sleeves of his white oversized pullover.

       The man's sudden presence was overwhelming. He couldn't help but inhale the repulsive scent of smoke, observe the tattoos imprinted over moving muscles and popping veins.

       His tears finally leaked down to his chin and to the concrete. The broom swiped those too, along with shards and dirt and cactus.

       "Tsk. Vergil the Virgin, there's no reason to be crying now. What has been done has been done and... it can't not. You can't not do the- what was it again?"

       Derk's friends squinted in confusion, as though they hadn't learned Shakespeare throughout the entire high-school.

       "Again, we really do apologize in name of our friend here-"

       "Would you stop that?"

       The 'w' a 'v', the 'th' a 'z', his voice low and thick with gruffness and disinterest, and the accent... Vergil's tears froze at the sound.

       The bullies smiled toothlessly. Derk slapped Vergil's shoulder and winked at him, then left with the others on his trail.

       Vergil sniffled and tried to discreetly wipe at his nose. The janitor ran his broom over his shoes, and the ticklish feeling sent shivers up his legs.

       Mr. Janitor bent down and picked up the paper, turning it his way. The half-closed eyes surveyed the three rows smoothly, then he held it up between two fingers. "Need this?"

       Vergil's jaw started bouncing as though he was a broken doll. "I-... It's..." he shifted his feet a little. Fingers involuntarily found their way through a fistful of hair, and he only then noticed how dead-cold they had turned, all blood rushed to his cheeks instead. "It's for you?"

       His voice took such a high pitch to it that he was surprised the man understood him. He did, for his eyes finally opened, just enough for the gray-blue orbs to catch some light.

       He straightened up and looked at the paper once again. He let it drop onto the dustpan and continued swiping. His expression remained tired and blank, as though it was just another minor occurrence in his life. As though Vergil was that funny thing that happened the other day.

       "Sorry, no."

       Vergil let go of the sleeves to twist the belly of his pullover instead. He shook his head. "I'm- I actually... I would really like it if we did go out. Because... It'd be a good time. Like, fun." his voice was starting to shake with tears of embarrassment.

       Mr. Janitor's eyebrows twisted a little as though he was squinting in the sun, but the low roof that made him hunch a little prevented that. He took a slow, audible breath.

       "I'm 40. I could be your father."

       Vergil was slowly dying inside. In the best way possible. He felt as courageous and outgoing as Stevo, and as passionate and romantic as Ethan, for none other than Mr. Janitor.

       "Still, I'm... legal." he whispered. It was a lie. There were still a few months until his 18th birthday. "I just want us to hang out because I like you."

       By that point his head was turned away enough to nearly do an 180. He could hear the man shuffle a little, his boots heavy on the concrete.

       "No..."

       Vergil nodded, still looking away. "All right... Sorry for the inconvenience..." his hand once again found its way into his hair. "Um... see you around."

       Thin coldness wrapped his wrist. Calloused knuckles brushed his sharp cheekbone as the janitor's hand pulled Vergil's out of his hair, lowering it.

       The man's hand slipped from around his wrist to around his palm and shook his hand. Vergil's stomach dropped upon realizing how tiny his hand was compared to the man's. He could almost lose its sight in the large, inked fist, the skin so rough it scraped his own almost painfully.

       He rolled his head back to look the man in the eyes. Mr. Janitor raised a corner of his mouth and then let go, turned around and walked away.

       Vergil did, too. With his right foot first.

Once again, look at the video and image of Mr. Janitor (Erik Ellington)! Yes, the dude is actually close to 40 (38 precisely). Tell me you wouldn't have a weird illegal crush on him. Come on.

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