[SE] sleep deprivations got me at my heels

// the kinda wrong that make you feel right //

It's been three and a half days, Asta, so... you know, you're not wrong but you're definitely not right either. Having given up some time around day two on doing more than letting his lover have whatever he needs to feel in control, Danta has allowed Asta to be as helpful as he wants. (Yes, even though it has now descended into chaos). He's slept with the sneaky help of some of the butcher's sedatives, he's taken the drugs they've been given whenever he's been able, and the delightful healers from the Temple have visited them twice.

"It's feeling much better, thank you," he responds with as much cheer and patience as he had the first two times, Danta smiling from his place curled on the other side of the sofa. He's also draped in one of Flora's ridiculously soft blankets, busy massacring crocheting the frog she'd sent them, his long legs stretched out and into Asta's lap - or at least they are until he gets to his feet.

"And how is your shoulder?" he asks, despite also having responded this way both times (the difference being, of course, that he's doing it because it's mildly entertaining). Peeping over the back of the sofa to watch Asta potter around - and to make sure he doesn't pour himself something that isn't tea by accident - he raises his eyebrows at the package. "What have you got there?"

Dantalion

// the little death that make you feel alive //