hold me tight or don't

// there's shadows on the walls //

For me, as well.

Part of Danta wonders if this would be enough for the Doubletake, half expecting the doors to The Hanged Man to swing open to reveal Flora in all her terrifying glory, yelling SAY IT as if this in itself isn't enough for one night. 

The rest of the Maverick, blessedly, is actually focused on the man before him, and his arms slip around Asta with the sort of care reserved for delicate and fragile things, because gods if that's not how Danta feels right now. Inhaling the honey-smoke scent of the butcher and leaning further into his embrace, the Maverick's laugh almost hiccups out of him.

"Why?" he whispers. "It couldn't be anyone else."

Letting a hand sneak up between them to brush his fingers across Asta's jaw, Danta risks a glance up at the other man at last. "I don't want space," he continues, as if realising it for the first time. The Levinsward had been too much, too soon, too close, but here? After all that has happened and with the truth ripped out of them?

Space is the last thing he wants.

Clutching Asta closer even as he makes as if to step away, Danta leans up to press his forehead against the butcher's, his fingers sneaking into his dark hair. "Gods, say you'll stay with me," he whispers.

Dantalion

// of moments far too troubling to recall //