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Asra didn’t have many regrets left in his life. Not after everything that had happened, at least. He was happy with his current friends, he was happy with his progress in magic, he was happy with just how far he had come in his life.
Though there was something that would always sit in the back of his mind. It would always haunt him, no matter what you said about it.
Your death. Or rather, the circumstances of it. He would never forgive himself for picking a fight with you right before you died — Asra had never gotten to tell you sorry, never got to tell you one last time that he loved you, never got to hear you say you loved him too.
Of course, after everything he’d done, he finally had you back. He can tell you he loves you, and he can hear the same words slip off your tongue soon after.
He supposes that that was why he is so scared at the moment. Heart pounding in his chest, the tips of his fingers going numb, the feeling of suffocating. He feels like he can’t breathe. Not enough air. Not enough space. This room is too small.
The subject of the argument is long forgotten to him. He’d stopped caring about it the second he saw that look on your face, the same one you’d given him right before you stormed off that dreadful night.
You aren’t even looking at him, walking through the shop and sorting potions and various artifacts in the middle of the argument. A more rational version of Asra may have paid no attention to it. But right now a haze was hiding his rationale, and he couldn’t unsee you with a bag in your hand, throwing clothing, potions, and food in it, all before storming off out the door.
You stepped from behind the counter, apparently finished with what you were doing there and moving somewhere else.
“No!” Asra yelled, a little louder than he meant to. He hoped you heard the worry and desperation in his voice nonetheless.
“Asra,” You warned, voice dripping with annoyance as you pushed past him. “Move. I’m trying to-”
“Please don’t go.”
You didn’t think you’d ever heard Asra’s voice sound so small. It was only then that you saw just how much Asra had been affected by the argument; you could see him shaking, struggling to catch his breath, tears running freely down his face. You took a step towards him and that was when his legs gave out from under him. He dropped to the ground and leaned against the wall, face buried in his hands and still not able to catch his breath.
You knew how he felt. You had experienced these episodes before, most commonly after you’d been revived. A part of you wondered if Asra felt guilty about that, knowing that you wouldn’t be so scared of the world if it weren’t for him meddling. And then again you didn’t really care about that, all you were focused on was the ice that seemingly spread in your chest. How had you not seen how bothered he was getting?
Said ice must also be what was anchoring you in place. It was as though you couldn’t move or speak.
Asra looked up at you with an expression akin to that of an abandoned puppy. That was all you needed to find your legs again, walking over to crouch down in front of him.
Your hand had barely touched his shoulder when he pounced on you, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close to his chest. Close, like if he loosened his grip you were going to disappear.
Oh, you thought, that's what this is about.
Still, he couldn’t seem to catch his breath. His face was buried into your shoulder, sharp gasps coming from him. He was always so good at comforting you when you were like this, the worry drawn on his face enough to let you know that you’re not alone. Finally, you moved your hand up to his back and began to rub small circles.
“Hey, shh,” You cooed, voice soft. “It’s okay. I’m- we’re okay, no one is going anywhere. I need you to try and breathe for me though, alright? C’mon, with me, just like our hearts beat together, remember?”
You offered him a small, encouraging smile when you pulled back. His face was cradled in your hands, hot tears still escaping his eyes.
“I’m sorry, it was a stupid reason to fight, I—”
“Asra, no,” you said, voice much softer than it had been earlier. You pulled him into you again. “don’t apologize. I’m at fault too. We can talk about it later though, alright? I’m not mad at you, love.”
Asra was still gasping for breath, but you could tell he was slowly becoming more calm. His hands gripped your clothing, hands balling into fist as he did so.
You felt something cool against your skin, and looked down at your wrist to find Faust traveling to your arm. She was draped over his shoulder — the one you weren’t burying your face into — and down his back. You kissed his shoulder and leaned back to look at him.
“Do you want to go upstairs and cuddle for a while?”
Again, no words left Asra. He only let out a whimper in response, which you assumed was in agreement. Still, he showed no signs of wanting to get up off of the floor.
“Baby, you’re going to have to get up if we’re going upstairs.” You said with a hint of a laugh in your voice. “I’m pretty sure the bed is a lot more comfortable than the floor.”
He nodded, and moved away to paw at his eyes with one hand. His other hand stayed on you, gripping the fabric of your shirt as though he was scared you would leave if he let go.
“Yeah, I know,” He said and then pulled you back into his chest. “just… I don’t want to move yet. Stay like this, for just a second. Please.”