Work Text:
As Astaroth held his cellular device, the other hand clutched onto a pristine white cloak, previously well-washed, now drenched in dark Scynthivian tears. His glossy crimson eyes scanning his screen, he's barely fully processed what he had just done. What he had just destroyed. You have this user blocked. It said, as much as he didn't wish to do this. His only point of resolve has evaporated, all jumbled up into heaps and heaps of chants, 'It was for the better.', 'It was for our own good', and one though differs. It was much more heartfelt than the others.
'I'm nothing without him.'
Tears gently poured like a dim storm, leaving a regretful stain on the knight's cloak. Ah.. the cloak. Will he ever return it? What will he do now? What is he going to do with all of these Arcadian trinkets? His entire room was a loud reminder of the blonde. It hurt, it hurt immensely. Every area, every corner, it was all thoughts and memories of him. Hell, he couldn't even enter his own bathroom without at least being reminded once of him.
It was.. all for the better. He always told himself. Ever since he was a child, The Patriarch, his father. His undignifying and stone cold words were engraved into his little miniature pea-brain. "Don't fret over things you know you must give up." It spoke. Like a little screwdriver being hammered into his head.
But why? Why can't he keep it? Why must he give it up?
At this very point, everything hurt. There was barely anything running through the Scynthivian knight's mind aside from Atlas. Atlas.
He needed him, he craved him more than anything else. But it was as if the idea of them ever working out as a perfectly fine and healthy couple.. just vanished. It felt more as if a fantasy rather than the reality Astaroth desired.
Rain begins to pour on Scynthiv, it was merely another cold and steep night without a moon. And it also happened to be a day without his sun.