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I did a pen drawing of Vergil and Mr. Janitor- IGNORE VERGIL BEING COOL I was on the train and doodling and all of a sudden Vergil is tall and smoking. Ugh, I still adore how it turned out, i wanna just squeeze my butt right now

Stevo, Vergil, Ethan, in that order, sitting on top of the college hill. Stevo had his legs sprawled frontwards, Vergil kept his knees under his chin and Ethan sat Indian-style, each pose matching their personality precisely.

It was dead silent.

What with his condition, Vergil had gone through his fair share of awkward silences and so he dealt with it just fine, but Ethan kept fidgeting while Stevo kicked at the grass with his heel.

"I'm not in love with either one of you." Vergil snapped when Stevo accidentally kicked some dirt onto his side bag.

The bluehead coughed and Ethan bowed his head. They must've talked behind Vergil's back about the subject, throwing the autistic back and forth at each other. 'It has to be you, deal with him!' 'What, no, I eat my own buggers, he likes you!' 'Jesus Stevo you're so fucking gross' 'Haha yeah'. That's how Vergil imagined their conversation.

"Right!" Stevo tried. "Cool... Good. Who do you love, then?"

Vergil played with his ear. On the second-to-last level of the huge ziggurat shaped hill, sat Mr. Janitor, and if the wind blew just right into the willow tree the man sat under, Vergil could spot his hunched back and man-bun.

"Just... someone." he lowered the hand from his ear to his shoulder, which he rubbed.

"This is ridiculous." Ethan said out of the blue, the first thing after greeting them at the beginning of lunch. "You are not in love, you can't- don't you listen to a word Dudan says to you?"

"All right, dude, way to fucking go." Stevo bit back over Vergil's head.

"Ignoring his Autism won't make him healthy! You're just encouraging him into doing something stupid that will make him have another panic attack!"

"If it was a girl you wouldn't have said that!"

"Please, my two best friends made out with each other in a bathroom and you think I'm a homophobe? I just don't want him thinking he loves someone when he's was born unable to."

"Following nature, nature was order and order is system!"

"Would you stop irrelevantly quoting Stevo, Stevo? Or should I say Jeremiah!"

"Don't you fucking go there man."

Vergil scooted frontwards inch by inch until he got himself up and grabbed his side-bag. His friends were too caught up in their fight to react, and so with a last glance at them he made his way downhill with clumsy bounces and just a couple twists of the ankle.

When he got at the abrupt end, he fell on his fours but jumped right upwards instantly. Yes he could've taken the stairs but they were crowded with... people.

He kept walking, without switching his footing to start with the left one. He couldn't even remember which foot he did begin with, because the sight of Mr. Janitor, whom he was approaching, took up all of his mental capacities.

Once he got close enough, he looked for a possible way to inform his of his presence without scaring him. He himself got scared whenever a person popped out of the blue.

He brushed the grass with his feet a little louder the last few steps, and the man darted a glance over his shoulder. Vergil froze next to him and opened his side-bag, quickly digging through it to pull out his sandwich.

"It's lunch break and, um. You don't seem to have any." he eyed the cigarette hanging from the janitor's mouth.

The man took a last drag and put it out, taking the sandwich. Vergil took that as an invitation and plopped down next to him, a good couple feet away, closer to the willow tree. He reached for an ant crawling up the trunk and inspected it closely as it made its way from one finger to the next.

"Thank you."

Vergil smiled at the man's strong accent. He had no idea what he was doing, but he knew he didn't want to give up yet. One by one, OCD patterns faltered because of his constant thinking of the man.

Late night fantasies of just having the inked hand hold his caused him to wake up five to ten minutes later. Daydreams of getting to show off his bug collection to the man caused him to miss on class notes, minuses appearing before the A on his essays. Sighting him on hallways made him forget of the paranoia of being constantly watched by anyone else, since the only gaze that truly mattered would be the man's.

"What- uh. Hi." Vergil stuttered.

He nearly forgot the list of appropriate verbal interaction Dudan gave him when he was 8. Begin with a greeting, not shoving a sandwich down their throat! But he deduced it was still salvageable.

By the look Mr. Janitor threw him, he concluded not... Still, the man nodded in greeting.

Vergil returned to his tiny ant. It nearly slipped into the sleeve of his beige cardigan, but he blocked its path by circling his wrist with two fingers.

"Are you retarded?"

Vergil flinched visibly.

He lowered his hand to let the ant go and then crossed his arms tight over his aching chest. He gawked at the man, but then took the time to think about his inquiry.

"Socially... retarded, yes." he murmured. "I have autism..." he raised a shoulder, looking the other way to try and breathe against the tears threatening to spill.

"What's that?"

The persistent accent reminded him to maybe use lighter terms. He rubbed both his arms nervously. "Lots of things, but... I- I can't understand people and they can't understand me."

The man took another bite of the sandwich. Only after swallowing, he talked. "Sounds like a misanthrope's dream. A diagnostic excuse to avoid unnecessary drama in their life." he shrugged. "People tend to be dramatic."

He spoke in a low, calm, distant voice, as though he was reading a book out loud. His eyes were focused on nothing in particular, those gray-blue orbs of his.

"You... know what misanthropy is, but don't know what autism is?"

Mr. Janitor wiped his mouth with his knuckles. "I know what it means, which is why I asked. To help you have something to talk about."

Vergil took a sharp breath. The air wheezing in felt like a first in a good while. It was just like a complete body refresh, having someone do something so sincerely considerate for him.

The man didn't pity him, he didn't awkwardly ignore the matter as though Vergil was missing a limb, he chose to put himself in his shoes and think of what would do him good. Such a tiny gesture, and yet it was immense.

"Well... since you were kind enough to do that, I take it you're not a misanthrope yourself, are you?" Vergil played with his sleeves, grinning a little.

Mr. Janitor stopped mid-chew. He frowned, appraised Vergil with a look, and threw the sandwich downhill. Random slices of edibles tumbled all the way to the lower level.

Vergil blinked.

"I dislike unnecessary drama." he wiped his hand off his blue jumpsuit. He paused with a slight, lazy frown. "Just realized I'm the one who has to clean that up..."

Vergil looked back at the sandwich, mouth still agape.

"I'll go do that..."

The man stood up and left to go get his cleaning supplies. Vergil felt laughter bubble up in his chest, but it wouldn't quite get out because of the knot in his throat.

Mr. Janitor must've chosen his lifestyle. A man cleaning the floors, changing light bulbs, watering flowers wouldn't even be at the back of anyone's head. He probably lived alone with little but comfortable furniture, a tiny apartment just big enough for one person, a TV he'd watch while sipping on a freshly popped can of beer.

He lived from one day to the next in monotonous comfort. Probably has been doing so for a decade, or more. Now and again, random factors would try and break that. A parking ticket, a death in his apartment complex, a bird slamming into his window causing it to crack, an autistic kid developing an unexplainable crush on him.

Vergil gulped heavily and stood up like a newborn deer, pulling on his side-bag and strangling its strap. He glanced upwards to see his friends wrestle in the grass, looked around at the far too many people and went for the nearest secluded spot to punch his head repeatedly.

Vergil couldn't take it anymore. He let his back slump down entirely, Panic Patrick clutched to his chest. He took a dry, ragged breath.

"What does he have to do with this?"

Dudan leaned closer to him over her desk, eyes flooded with pity. "You still feel guilty about your father leaving because of your condition, despite it being in no way your fault. At some point you saw this janitor fix something or another, clean something after you. From commercials or cartoons you had received a subliminal image of the father of the house doing such things, and so you linked that to the janitor. But you mistook the random burst of love for him for the romantic sort."

Vergil raised his head, cocked it aside, and gently started rocking, agitated. Too agitated to keep sitting, so he stood up and threw the plush aside, hurrying to the toys corner of the room.

Everything that was going on was just out of his reach. He needed, as in needed some sort of control over something, anything, and so he turned to the comfort of organization.

Hence, he got on arranging every toy in sight, by weight.

He could hear Dudan stand up from her desk and approach. "Have you ever imagined kissing this man?"

Vergil wheezed. "Don't say that! No, God, I didn't, I swear!" he screeched. It was true, he couldn't bring himself to let that cross his mind. Dudan inflicting that shook him up real good, arms knocking over various objects.

"What about..."

"Please!" Vergil yelled, spinning away from the shelf and hurrying back to Panic Patrick to hug him. He went to the window and stared outside, his heavy breaths forming an expanding smudge of foam.

"I only ever imagined, like, hanging out with him and laughing and m-maybe... maybe holding his hand or something..." he peeked over his shoulder.

Dudan smiled with a long sigh. "See what I mean? That's a father-son relationship you just described, Vergil. The one I did, was the romantic kind."

Vergil frowned in dumbfound, stuttering out a random mess of noises.

"Can't couples laugh and hold hands without kissing and-" he raised his shoulders, embarrassed.

"Vergil... you want him as a father."

"I really don't think-"

"I'm just trying to help you. If by any chance you advance towards this janitor and he proves to be a sick bastard, a paedophile... You might end up realizing your mistake too late."

Vergil closed his eyes. "He's not that..."

Dudan tilted her head. "Oh, Vergil... we went over this. Remember the chart of jobs I showed you when you were 10? That pyramid drawing, remember what job was at the very bottom?"

Vergil opened his mouth and glanced aside, rolling his jaw. "He's clever."

"Fixing stuff doesn't make him clever, it's basic primitive function to hammer one thing or another."

"Oh my God." Vergil whispered.

Dudan shook her head, returning to her desk in tiny, quick steps. Vergil returned to the window, pressing his forehead to it and sighing, sad.

"Now, about your next assignment... Let's go with, keep staying away from him."

"Where are you going, Vergil?"

The boy stood up, having been tying his shoes before his mother appeared. "Out."

She stepped out of the shadow of her bedroom and into the lit hallway, arms tight around her tiny torso. "Stevo and Ethan?"

Vergil could've easily said 'yes', but he was barely ever capable of voicing his thoughts, let alone come up with ways to twist them into a plausible lie.

"... No, with a girl from college."

Her mother didn't react at first. She only got closer, squinting like a deaf person watching High School Musical.

"A project, or...?"

Vergil raised his shoulders. "No, we'll just hang out."

And pick flowers for a bouquet I'm to offer a 40 years old man.

Becca had heard of the incident with the cactus. Not from Vergil, but one of the many people who witnessed it and, naturally, decided to spread it further. Twice or thrice a week, Vergil would be the laugh of everyone's conversation, he was kind of used to it.

She parted her tiny, plump lips just a little and hurried into the kitchen. Vergil watched her pick up her phone from on top of the table and return, holding it up.

"Mom." he deadpanned.

"They do this in the movies..." he said, as calm and tired as ever, but with that ghost of a smile on her face. It rarely went beyond that.

Not that she was depressed, she was just a quiet person like that, keeping to herself, and she did have a lot on her shoulders. Therefore, Vergil clenched his mouth shut and seized the moment.

"Smile, would you?"

Then, he was sure his smile reflected her own perfectly. Not only did they have the same mouth, but he, too, kept to himself and rarely had a reason to smile.

But then he thought back on Mr. Janitor and, before he knew it, her mother's phone screen displayed two rows of teeth in all his grinning glory.

"Good thing Derk- more like Jerk, knocked it out of your hand. You don't give a cactus to a girl! The flower has to be a replica of your feelings!"

Vergil hummed awkwardly, watching her walk around the huge field of nothing. They were outside the tiny town, which was surrounded by plains and forests. The trees begun a little further away, though, and so there was nothing around but grass. Vergil hated being in plain sight, nowhere to hide to.

"Can't flower shops do that...?"

Becca stood up with a flip of her wild curls. "It's spring! Look around you!"

Vergil did, taking in the bright patches of colours scattered about. Honestly, he's been distracted by the insects until now.

"She will notice the effort put into making the bouquet. It'll be clumsy and cute and intimate, unlike the pompous stuff at the shops. The prices on them, too!"

It was easy, hanging out with her. She did most of the talking.

"Tell me more about this girl."

Too much talking.

Vergil picked a flower to observe the tiny ladybug on it.

"She's... tall."

Becca scrunched up her nose. She happened to be tiny. Shorter than even Vergil, which said a lot.

"That's all it takes to win you over?" she laughed, a little weird.

Vergil wondered why people didn't find ladybugs as disgusting as the next bug. Did tiny dots make that big a difference? What if cockroaches were dotted as so?

"I see."

Vergil snapped his head towards her. "Sorry, what? I-I didn't hear."

She rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

Becca moved on. She already had a handful of very pretty species of complementary colours. Vergil was afraid to pick anything since he'd surely ruin it all.

"Why, uh..."

Becca turned towards him, all wide eyes and ready to listen him attempt to initiate conversation. Vergil flinched, feeling himself hunch involuntarily. His mother and friends kept lecturing him about it, but he couldn't help it.

"Why- how come you're helping me out? You must have other friends to, I don't know... spend time with..."

She tilted her head. "We're friends too, aren't we?"

Becca and her closest friend have been, indeed, trying to approach Vergil ever since the start of college, a good few months now. But Vergil always cowered away, thinking they were just trying to pick on him.

"I don't know." Vergil turned away, scratching the back of his neck harsher than someone mentally healthy would.

"We are." she assured him, and he could hear her step closer by the swoosh of grass. She gripped his wrist and pulled it away, then stepped right in front of him.

Vergil looked down at her and then aside. "Uh, cool."

Becca remained quiet for the longest time and then she laughed, got on her toes and pecked his cheek, her lips pursed and soft and sticky-moist because of chopstick.

Vergil... literally gagged.

A second after the dry, throaty sound left his mouth, he covered it with a slap of the hand and gawked at her.

"Oh Gh- I have no idea why that happened, I swear I didn't mean to!"

Becca fell back on her heels, looking at him with a neutral expression for the first time since they met. She shook her head and threw the bouquet of flowers into his chest before turning around and stomping away.

Vergil slowly curled into a ball.

this book should be just entitled 'second-hand awkwardness'

Whoever is reading this, you're different. Your mindset is different. You can look past the general concept of this story and appreciate it for what it is:...... I've been rewriting this sentence for ten minutes now I don't know what the fuçk this book is but it's not some random pedo henttai sh!t

that aside. holy sh!t remember my cool pen drawing how am i this awesome? ignore the duct tape i used to cover mistakes and draw over them~

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