[ it's the hands on his elbows that snaps dante from his thoughts, that stills the growing heat gathering around them, it's the wolfwood's face staring up at him struggling to find the right words to say that makes him breathe again. instinctively he grabs at wolfwood, pulling him in, almost desperate for the comfort of simply having him there. he doesn't need to say the words for them to find their mark, and dante can't find it in himself to fault him.
a part of him wishes it had been him, a part of him wishes vergil hadn't been the one grabbed and bagged and forced to suffer again. but dante keeps those thoughts to himself, he banishes them into the depths of his mind and focuses on the here and now. ]
He was pretending to be me, Nick. [ he laughs, hollowly, grip tightening around the other man was he wrestles with the information bouncing around his head. ] That idiot was pretending to be me.
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a part of him wishes it had been him, a part of him wishes vergil hadn't been the one grabbed and bagged and forced to suffer again. but dante keeps those thoughts to himself, he banishes them into the depths of his mind and focuses on the here and now. ]
He was pretending to be me, Nick. [ he laughs, hollowly, grip tightening around the other man was he wrestles with the information bouncing around his head. ] That idiot was pretending to be me.