[ Aki wipes, and he wipes, and he wipes, cleaning the muck, the mud, the grime, the blood, able to focus on something other than his broken heart for a few brief moments of respite. Taking care of Denji is so second nature that he barely needs to think about it, barely has to breathe, until there's nothing left but a dirty piece of cloth and Aki himself, his hands shaking.
Slowly, agonisingly slowly, he leans down and wraps his arms around Denji's shoulders, holding him gently. ]
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Slowly, agonisingly slowly, he leans down and wraps his arms around Denji's shoulders, holding him gently. ]
They're okay. I know it.