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Summary
// tw: self-harm
Immediately, a piercing jolt runs down Scaramouche's spine and he sits up, the sleep coating his thoughts evaporating.
“Ajax?” he whispers. He hasn’t drank water in the past couple of hours. His voice is far too hoarse and rough to properly cup Ajax’s fragile, glass-like voice in his hands.
“Scara, I-” Ajax’s breath hitches. “There was a knife- There’s blood- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-“
