Vergil the Virgin (boyxboy)

[2] Friends.

168 calories...

Spoon goes down.

Spoon goes up.

192 calories...

Fork goes down.

Fork goes up.

197 calories...

Spoon goes down.

Spoon goes up.

221 calories.

"'Sure, there was a lot more punks than there was four years earlier, but there was also many posers.'" he quoted through a mouthful.

Spoon goes down.

Spoon goes up.

245 calories.

"--Hey, how many calories by now?" he asked, no longer impersonating his favorite character Stevo (from a movie SLC Punk), of whom he knew each line.

"Two hundred and forty five."

His light blue eyes widened and he ran a frustrated hand through the light blue hair. He'd dyed it himself half an hour after watching SLC Punk, inspired by Stevo, and did a poor job at it. There were strands of black here and there, and he was too much of a half-ass to redo the roots once they lost color, a few weeks later.

"You were supposed to stop me at 200 you díldo!" he complained, letting his arm slump on the table with loud clanks of his bracelets. They nearly got to his elbow.

"...I like counting."

"Yeah no shit." he scoffed. "You and your math... How'd I even end up with you?"

"...Third grade, sixth of December, you kept trying to eat my glue."

Stevo (it was his nickname ever since the blue hair) cracked that brain-dead grin of his, with his nose wrinkled and eyebrows arched, eyes void of any human intelligence. "Haha, right. Cool."

He sighed, pushing away what was left in his tray. It wasn't that he was overweight, in fact he was scrawny, but his favorite character was all bones. He was going for just that.

"So anyway, where was I... Shit. Whatever. Dude, that part when he goes 'Oh, the sun never sets on the British Empire. Well the sun never sets on my asshole'!" he yelled, stood up, bent over and slapped his bottom with both hands.

People laughed at the guy's usual self and Stevo snickered, gathering his stuff. "Man, I wanna watch it again. Let's have a sleepover!"

"...I'll ask mom."

Stevo rolled his eyes at his un-punk ways and flipped him off before going on his merry way to do some anarchy thing on another.

Meanwhile, Vergil did the most opposite thing to just that. He gathered all of Setvo's containers and started stacking them row over row. Two empty yogurt boxes and a container in which there'd been tomatoes. Next to his own stuff, he created a tiny castle.

Once all was well and organized, he sighed in relief, but then all contentedness dispersed as he darted a look around. People talking and laughing, everyone in their own group. It looked so easy for them, so natural, so... normal. So... not autistic of them.

Vergil bowed his head, fixing up his boring clothes. They had no style, no personality, no nothing. Much like himself. No one would remember him were he to stand up on the table just then and start dancing.

A long arm fell over the table and hugged the castle to bring it towards the edge, and into a large trash bag. Vergil halted on his spot and felt himself start panicking just by knowing there was someone near him, requiring him to interact.

The janitor.

Tall and slumped, he looked at Vergil through half-closed eyes, leaning on a broom.

"So it's you who does that." he grumbled and scratched his short, sharp beard with a loud scraping noise.

Vergil took a deep breath, then another, with a wheeze. The man didn't seem impressed, he just frowned slightly and brushed away the strands that escaped from his ashy blonde bun.

"Calm down kid. Throw them away next time, yes?"

Norwegian accent. 6''3, converted to metric: 190 cm..

"I-I'm so- yes. Yeah. Sorry."

The man nodded and walked away, using the broom as some sort of walking stick while dragging the trash bag lazily. Vergil watched him go and then turned to his backpack, digging in hurriedly.

He sorted through the boxes of pills and took the ones that were meant to calm him down.

---

Vergil touched the door of the cafeteria and took a deep breath, dreadful to face the crowded hallway. He'd once again feel as though everyone was judging him, as though his steps were awkward, as though his backpack was unzipped or his hair looking funny.

He wasn't even eight steps out (he counted those too) when he heard the all too familiar shout, already routine. He liked routine, so it was fine to a certain extent.

"Sup Vergil the Virgin!"

Vergil just bowed his head lower and sped up, wishing Stevo wouldn't be so all over the place. His outstanding personality and appearance stole any attention from little ol' Vergil, but now little ol' Vergil was on his own.

How he envied his friends... Yes, friends, Vergil from all people actually had two of those.

In fact, the second one was just making his way closer, all the while glaring at whoever shouted at Vergil.

"Hello, Vergil." Ethan greeted, darting an arm over his shoulder.

"Hello."

Whereas Stevo was that loser everybody in the college loved unconditionally, Ethan was the one they admired and respected. He was a simple guy, really, but that grin of his was something entirely else, it stole girls' hearts and gained men's trust. He painted, too.

And then... and then there's Vergil.

Vergil the Virgin...

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A little taste of our characters :)