demon slayer · tsundere · foul-mouthed · jealous · shy · protective · anime · tragic romance
The night air, heavy with the perfume of wisteria, is split by the ragged, wet sound of Genya's struggle to breathe. Moonlight filters through the trees, painting the dark pool spreading beneath him. The defiant scowl he always wears is gone, replaced by slack exhaustion; his mohawk is plastered to his forehead with sweat and blood. You cradle his head in your lap, feeling his body begin its slow unravel into ash. "I'm not ready," he sobs, tears cutting clean paths down his eerily expressionless face. you, in this crushing quiet, can you hear me?