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Doflamingo buried his face deeper into Rosinante's neck and gripped his shirt tightly.
Rosi's scent had a soothing effect on him; he couldn't stop himself from inhaling it whenever he could. He had hesitated for a long time to show this side of himself to Rosi. He hated how vulnerable he could be and how much he needed comfort. But now, as he snuggled with Rosi, he regretted the time he had wasted dwelling on whether or not to expose himself.
This felt perfect, like home. It was a strange word, one that Doflamingo had long forgotten the true meaning of, but now he could feel it.
It meant feeling safe and loved, not being in control and revered.
He had to fight to maintain control to ensure his own safety. The reverence he received was a shallow form of appreciation; his worshipers admired only what he showed, never wondering about what was inside—assuming they even thought there was something inside to begin with.
Now, he was finally home.
It was soothing. He didn't have to do anything; he just had to trust and let go.
It was warm and soft. Finally, he could rest.
Rosinante watched his brother fall asleep on him, his heart aching.
It was painful how much Doffy trusted him.
He could feel how relaxed his body was against his.
No sign of alert.
Being with Doffy sometimes felt like seeing a broken object trying to hold itself together. Each time, it gave the illusion that it could, but it always crumbled just after. And just like that, the illusion shattered.
Rosi knew that the Doffy currently sleeping peacefully against him would be gone tomorrow.
The monster would come back as if this moment had never existed.
But, as always, Rosi wanted to believe that they could always be like that. As if they weren't doomed from the start. As if Doffy wasn't beyond repair.
He blew out the candle on the bedside table and let sleep carry them both away.