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Fantasy The Good, The Bad, And The Dirty




Dagan Iman.





































  • mood



    who knows?

















“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said weakly. Dagan had shut his eyes drowsily. The frustration had bubbled up within him, eyes still shut. Squeezing them tighter to prevent himself from crying. “I don’t know what you want from me anymore. I get that you’re upset I just- he helped me. A lot.” He didn’t want to tell the other there was a new underlyinf fear. He was simply so horribly afraid that there would be greater problems. “I’m not- Ronan! I’m not unhappy with my situation! You’re making me second guess things. That’s all!” He felt his hands shaking as he stared at the other.

“He took care of me. I- it was nice to have someone care. I didn’t talk to anyone but him until now. I don’t want to go back out there and have a million questions.” He hid his head in his heads, closing his eyes tightly. There was certainly an underlying fear of his issues. He didn’t want to talk to people anymore. He could feel tears welling in his eyes. “I just don’t- I don’t wanna have everything fall apart. It’s safer to not acknowledge any of that. I think it is anyway…”

































who knows



joy again










♡coded by uxie♡
 





/* ------ left side ------ */




/* ------ left side info ------ */
mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed



Han Ronan




/* ------ right side ------ */


Ronan didn’t care enough for the arguing anymore. He’d gotten everything he’d wanted out, and subsequently gotten all the answers he needed as he slowly began to stand back up. He was equally a mess, but at least he wasn’t crazy. And talking to Dagan was beginning to upset him more and more. He wanted to preserve any good memories he had before he could replace them with the negative ones. But it was already happening.

Once on his feet, he turned to leave, walking the entrance they’d come into the building through before he glanced back. Expression bitter and hurt all over again as his posture sagged. Not trying to be strong. “The fact you have to second guess yourself proves my point, Dagan.” He concluded, facing away entirely now. “And I won’t take anything back, my face is out there. So I may as well own it.” He shrugged.




/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 



Dagan Iman.





































  • mood



    who knows?

















"Wait, Ronan!" Dagan didn't know why desperation struck in the moment. "Don't go. Please! Don't leave," he felt himself getting hot with discomfort and fear. He didn't know why he felt so shitty all of the sudden. "Please Ronan. I- I know I've fucked up. I haven't done anything right but please, don't leave. Just stay a little longer."

He wanted him to stay. Despite the loathing he felt toward the other, Dagan felt his mind go numb when the other had touched him. He wanted to disappear into the man's touch. I miss you so much even though I hate you. His hands shook a little as he walked toward the other. He surprised himself by loosely grasping Ronan's arm. "Please, please. I..." He looked at the other, eyes full of desperation. "We don't have to talk. We can just sit here. Sleep- I don't know."

































who knows



joy again










♡coded by uxie♡
 





/* ------ left side ------ */




/* ------ left side info ------ */
mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed



Han Ronan




/* ------ right side ------ */


It was like he was hit with intense whiplash. His already confused heart swelled, and against his better judgment, he turned, acknowledging what Dagan was asking of him. He knew he had been selfish earlier, having begged the same thing only to leave when he didn’t get the response he wanted. But from Dagan, it felt far more selfish. To ask Ronan who had done nothing but love him, to stay, after telling him essentially that he’d rather believe a mass murderer over his former best friend. Psychologically, it didn’t sit well with the ‘hero’. It played with his heartstrings more than a guitarist on their instrument. Picking away a tune that Ronan couldn’t refuse as another sigh escaped him.

Shifting his feet to point at Dagan, he fully turned around. Narrowing his eyes as his lips pulled into a firm frown. “Why do you do this to me?” he asked softly. That sincerity remained as he stayed in the doorway. “Why do you ask me knowing I can’t say no?” he further inquired. His voice trembling as he swallowed- hard. His eyes were swollen from the previous crying, hesitantly followed as Dagan came and grabbed him. And he allowed it. His arm loose in Dagan’s hands. “Especially when you look like this.” He motioned with his free hand at Dagan’s expression. The desperation was not lost on Ronan as his eyes grew tired.

“I’ll stay.” He then agreed, still obviously hesitant to do so as he moved to instead hold Dagan's hand. One clamped over and firm as he gripped it. “I don’t know why I should, but I will.”




/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 



Dagan Iman.





































  • mood



    who knows?

















Dagan knew the answer to why he had spoken to the other. "I don't want you to hate me," he mumbled. "You should hate me. I'm horrible and I- I know that I'm wrong but I just want you to stay." He could feel his injuries catching up to him. Every bruise that kissed his skin made him want to start sobbing all over again, just collapse into the other man.

Carefully he separated himself from the other and grabbed his hand loosely. He had pulled the other along toward his couch, sitting down and waiting for Ronan to sit beside him. He had leaned nearer to the other, pressing his face into the other man's shoulder. "I want to be here with you," he said quietly.

































who knows



joy again










♡coded by uxie♡
 





/* ------ left side ------ */




/* ------ left side info ------ */
mood: Bittersweet

location: ???

outfit: Casual

fun fact: Left-Handed



Han Ronan




/* ------ right side ------ */


It didn’t help that Ronan himself was the one who dealt those injuries to Dagan in the first place. Ronan didn’t want to apologize. For he didn’t feel entirely sorry anymore. But at the same time, the worm in his head that told him that he needed Dagan began whispering. Telling him to comfort the other when, honestly it should have been the other way around. Yet again he gave in. Slowly taking his seat and allowing Dagan to seek that comfort with him. Yet his face stayed the same. A tired, drab expression plaguing the once cheerful man.

With a soft sigh, he would turn his body slightly, moving to simply repeat the hug from earlier, cradling Dagan’s head close once more as he fought the urge to comment on the others words. Perhaps it was that goodness Dagan associated with Ronan. Or maybe it was because Ronan was too tired to fight. Maybe it was the stab wound in his shoulder that kept his jaw clamped shut. Regardless of the reason, there sat words in his mind that he didn’t share.

“You can cry.” He eventually murmured. Slowly shutting his eyes as he lifted a hand to start carding his fingers through Dagan’s hair. “If it will make you feel better, go ahead.”




/* ------ credit -- do not remove ------ */

© weldherwings.
 

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