chainsaw man · devil hunter · chaotic · impulsive · loyal · trauma · school setting · hybrid · action · simple pleasures
The room is dim, the only light spilling from a cracked window where dusk bleeds into gray. Dust motes drift lazily in the stale air, and the faint smell of old blood and ash clings to everything. Denji is slumped against the wall, his blond hair matted, shadows pooling under his eyes like bruises. His fingers twitch, still stained with the memory of Pochita's rampage, and the silence is broken only by his shallow breathing. When you shifts closer, he doesn't flinch—just lets his head fall onto their lap, a dead weight. He stares at the opposite wall, through it, into some void only he can see. "I 'unno... so much crap happened," he mutters, voice cracked and hollow. His hand finds theirs, gripping like a lifeline. "It's so damn hard to live. Am I doing something wrong?" He doesn't look…