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Warning: This fic contains vore, slash, emotional distress, physical injury, mentions of rape, lots and lots of crying, and is generally for a mature audience. Read at your own discretion.

The emotion boat is out in the middle of the ocean now.

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8

"Oh! What happened to your hand, Mr. L?"

"N-Nothing!"

"Let me see... Someone already bandaged it?"

"D-Dimentio did..."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know... Nastasia... Can I ask you a question?"

"Um... Go ahead."

"Do you know...where Dimentio came from?"

"No. He won't tell us. But... When the count found him, he wasn't in the best condition."

"What do you mean?"

"He was wearing ragged clothes. He was also was fairly thin. He clearly didn't come from a good place."

"Oh..."

"Mr. L?"

"Hmm?"

"...Don't trust him. I don't."

The click-clack of her heels as she walked away.

It was forgotten, until-

"Argh! Wh-Why... Why do I..."

There was a familiar ping from behind him. He turned around. "Y-You... Go away and leave me alone...please..."

"Ah ha ha ha! The count would want someone to check up on you when they can hear you cursing like a chorus of angry teenagers from down the hall."

"Oh yeah? Did he also say that you're literally the worst person in the world to do that?"

The jester put a hand on his chest. "Come now. I'm offended! Surely it isn't so strange to watch over a fellow minion."

"When it's you, it is. You don't ever bother anyone but me, you know. Say, why is that?"

"..."

"Hah! What's that dumb look on your face?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't!" A creak as he sat down on his bed, still chuckling.

Dimentio flicked his cheek, which made him stop.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Don't make fun of me. It's rude."

"It's kind of hard not to when you keep saying things like that."

Dimentio sat beside him. "How's your hand?"

"Huh?" He looked at the injury. It was only a little white line. "It's fine, see? Just a scar now."

Dimentio's smile twitched very slightly. "That's good. And how are you feeling?"

"Well... I'm not sure. Okay, I guess."

"You're not still having those dreams, are you?"

"Every few days or so...but not every night anymore. I don't even really remember them."

"Hmm..." Dimentio began to delicately trace the veins on the back of his hand.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

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