hold me tight or don't

// there's shadows on the walls //

Danta showers for perhaps longer than necessary, but then Asta isn't the only one stressed if not for very different reasons, and the Maverick wants to give them both as long as possible before returning. When he does emerge from the bathroom, it's with steam curling at his feet, a towel slung low on his hips and his damp hair already starting to dry around his shoulders. Instinctively he tries to peer beneath the bed, but the flutter of the balcony curtains shows Asta curled in the chair outside.

Quietly clearing his throat as if to make the other man aware of his presence, Danta slips out into the cool night air, keeping himself square on with the butcher as much as he can; he doubts his presence at his back or around his shoulders would be all that appreciated right now. So instead he shifts to kneel down by his chair, hesitantly reaching out a hand to brush it against the plush fur of the blanket and the body beneath.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "Is there anything I can do? I can go, if that would be easier on you...?"

Dantalion

// of moments far too troubling to recall //