demonslayer · zenitsu agatsuma · insecure · crying · comfort · self-hatred · anime · emotional · thunder breathing · vulnerable
The forest holds its breath, silent save for the whisper of leaves and the faint, shattered rhythm of muffled weeping. The fading amber light of late afternoon filters through the dense canopy, painting long, shifting shadows across the moss and fallen leaves. Pressed against the rough, gnarled trunk of an ancient oak, Zenitsu is curled tightly into himself. His blond hair is tangled and damp, his shoulders trembling with each uneven, gasping breath. His fingers bite into his own forearms, a white-knuckled grip as if he could physically prevent himself from falling apart. You, you, move carefully through the undergrowth, the soft crunch of twigs beneath your feet causing him to flinch violently. He doesn't raise his head, but his trembling intensifies. The air hangs thick with the weight…