Vergil the Virgin (boyxboy)

[8] Mess.

Vergil threw up a little. But he swallowed right after, so it was all good. Just a little nervous throw up.

He touched his neck with the tips of his fingers, gawking at the gym building. His carotid artery pulsed very noticeably beneath the thin skin of his neck, seeing as he'd checked every hallway of the college until he deduced the man must've been cleaning the gym. He was now trying to catch his breath from all the running.

Meanwhile, he fixed the bouquet of flowers here and there. Some had died from the day before but it was still relatively decent looking.

When he finally managed to breathe in and out with no interruption, he took one step after another until he was in the men's locker room. He strode right through it and into the gym.

Yes, there he was.

Vergil randomly got on his toes, all the breath he's been struggling to suck in spilling all over the freshly washed floor. Luckily, the man didn't get to hear his choking noises, for he was listening to music, tiny headphones covering his ears.

His sleeves were pulled up to his elbows, exposing mostly black tattoos distorted by thick veins. The Norwegian seemed to be listening to, surely enough, Norwegian metal.

Vergil had been introduced to an entire map of rock genres by none other than Stevo. Seeing as he liked learning stuff, no matter how irrelevant, Vergil knew it by heart.

And it sounded like Mr. Janitor was listening to IMMORTAL. Which was pretty funny, seeing as Mr. Janitor was everything the band wasn't. Mortal (visibly so), calm, peaceful, quiet, ever so quiet!

Vergil let out a giggle by mistake. It was a nervous sort of burst of air, really, and it did little to stop the trembling of his inner organs.

Mr. Janitor didn't hear him over the persistent drums and throaty screams. Hence, Vergil got to get closer and observe his moping action.

Peculiar, at that. There were wide mops available (big wooden crosses with rags at the end) that would get the gym wiped in maybe eight strides. But Mr. Janitor was using a tiny, ordinary mop.

Vergil cleared his throat, afraid to scare the man. He raised his arm and hesitantly poked Mr. Janitor's bicep. Firm bicep.

He blushed instantly, a shade of red bolting across his face in a flash and goose bumps covering every inch of his skin.

"..hello..." he whispered quietly. Not that yelling would've made a difference with the man's headphones still on.

He took them off and glanced at Vergil's tiny frame as it uselessly tried to hide the bouquet of flowers behind. He was pencil-thin, nothing could go behind his back without being noticed.

"Are those for me?"

He'd asked that with such plain expression, void of any spark of interest, that Vergil acted on impulse.

"Ah. No."

Silence.

They just kind of stood there until strands of ashy blond hair slid from behind the man's ear. It snapped Vergil out of it.

"Yes..."

He brought the flowers to view, a few dead petals dropping on the way.

"The cactus never did get to you... so... I went and picked these. Well, a girl helped me. Actually she picked them all... from the fields. She doesn't know they're for you, so don't... think she knows they're for you... no one knows..."