run, baby, run, run for your life
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
i'ma tear out your heart, it'll always be mine
He hates this. He hates being the one needing to be coddled when he fucks up. He hates how easy it is for Danta to soothe him and tell him it’s okay when it’s very clearly not. He hates feeling like gems uncontrollable.
But that’s why he’d gone so long solitary. He’d chosen it. It was easier, even if he was touch starved and an asshole because of it. It was easy. The only person he could hurt was himself and never those he actually cared about.
He continues to gasp, dark eyes shut so tight against the pain and the tears he stubbornly can’t stop. Of course he’d let him go when asked, because he was awake enough to, but had he not been? What then?
They’ll likely never know if Asta had any say in it.
Tears are smeared with blood and Asta trembles under the touch, forcing himself to look at the wound, and without the sling he tries to lift his left hand to cradle Danta’s arm. It’s numb and crunchy again and he inhales sharply from the pain, instead limply pressing into Danta to see the deep wound.
“It’s bad, Danta.” He whispers— hiccups. “I’m sorry.” He gets out again in shudders breath. “Fucking hell.”
But that’s why he’d gone so long solitary. He’d chosen it. It was easier, even if he was touch starved and an asshole because of it. It was easy. The only person he could hurt was himself and never those he actually cared about.
He continues to gasp, dark eyes shut so tight against the pain and the tears he stubbornly can’t stop. Of course he’d let him go when asked, because he was awake enough to, but had he not been? What then?
They’ll likely never know if Asta had any say in it.
Tears are smeared with blood and Asta trembles under the touch, forcing himself to look at the wound, and without the sling he tries to lift his left hand to cradle Danta’s arm. It’s numb and crunchy again and he inhales sharply from the pain, instead limply pressing into Danta to see the deep wound.
“It’s bad, Danta.” He whispers— hiccups. “I’m sorry.” He gets out again in shudders breath. “Fucking hell.”
Astaroth
run, baby, run, run for your life
