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Skateboard had not expected to wake up, not from a fatal blow of a Biograft’s blade piercing through his heart, but he had, and there was no doubt his savior was the huddled body of his best friend in the armchair next to him.
Coil’s baggy eyes light up upon seeing him awake, and his face melts into a relieved smile- at least as much as his skin allows him to, because overtaking the right half of his face and crawling down his neck and under his hoodie, was the gleaming, jagged edges of his crystal protruding out like branches of icicles.
“I had to,” Coil says as Skateboard lets out a shuddering exhale at the sight, “you were going to die,” and he sounds so sure of himself, so certain of the fact that his life slowly draining away at the use of those things was not something devastating, not if it’s for Skateboard.