when dante kisses you the second time, it's something different. it tastes bitter, desperation lacing his tongue that scraped your taste buds. it mirrors the way his hands fist the solid-colored shirt you're wearing.
confrontation was something you would rather take your own life than ever decide to stare into your past lover's eyes and tell him what was going on in your life. time was unfriendly to you both, it was a fickle consistent trend that wore down the chasm of jagged black edges further and further between heated bodies till it felt like you and him were galaxies apart and on different brain waves of thinking.
he had come back to you in the dead of night, when rain was rolling down silver tin-covered roofs, and the glow of neon lights was setting your silhouettes ablaze in a fiery inferno. you opened the door, thinking it was your recent love. the kind that actually treated you right, that touched you the way you liked, that actually put a name to what you both were and called you names that didn't make the pit of your stomach curl in the way that made bile burn the back of your throat. the clear shock and then slowly churning tides of disappointment rolling over your face like icy tidal waves was something dante didn't think he would ever encounter from you.
where he had braced himself for you to burst out in grateful tears and fling yourself into his arms as you welcomed him home just like you always used to; when he was gone for long periods of time and leaving you in painful radio silence. he had been greeted with your disappointment and your front door being shut behind you, and not being invited inside your cinnamon-scented living room like before.
" expecting someone else?" he jokes, voice sounding tight and just as strained as the dry chuckle he lets out after.
" yes, i was." you dont joke. " what are you-- "
" you wound me, babe. you gotta work on those jokes of yours." he cuts you off, a step taken forward. dante is invading your personal space and leaning down to grace your lips with his own like it's an effective way to shut down your assumed brattiness. it's then that your face turns away, and you say his name like a stranger would. no heat and warmth of your typical affection in the curl of your tongue. his name sounds like a slur in the tone of your voice.
" dante. we can't." your gaze narrowly avoids the way the space between his brows crease, flickering emotions that he doesn't want to put much thought in what's causing his heart and head to hurt. "things have changed."
" not everything needs to be changed, babe."
" well i have," you frown. jaw set, teeth nearly grinding together in order to distract yourself from tearing up automatically. you can't take the shift in the atmosphere, the way the city nightscape is deathly quiet and the ringing in your ears has started to begin. " and it has, especially with us."
dante scoffs, his weight leaning back enough so he can dramatically roll his eyes. irritation brews just under the surface of his skin. the heavy crushing pressure in his chest digs harder, and he spits out the few words he can manage to utter. " don't tell me there's someone else already." already. it sends a pang in your chest.
your silence is his only answer. whether its out of spite to not reveal your new active love life, or just because you feel he doesn't even deserve an explanation. whatever answer it is that you want to choose, both would have resulted in the strained, snarky smirk dante has painted on his features. something in his chest snaps, and he can't help but to bark out a half-sob, half-choked-up laugh. it sounds painful, but it doesn't equate to the feeling he has of the forming black hole swirling around in his sternum. the hands near his sides tighten, nails digging into his palms hard enough to make his fists shake. it takes an insane of supernatural effort not to let his devil trigger react and go buckwild on the balcony of your apartment.
dante wants to hit something.
dante wants to scream and call you out on your bullshit.
dante wants to fall to his knees and clutch your sleep shorts, begging for a second chance and to apologize over and over till you take him back.
dante wants you to tell him this is all some sick joke or that this is just some nightmare. if he pinches himself hard enough, maybe he'll wake up in bed next to you. he'll pull you to his chest, inhale the rich scent of your skin and lingering notes of perfume that will lull him back to better dreams and deeper sleep.
however this isn't a dream, this isn't a nightmare. this is reality, and he's lost you. no amount of begging or crying would ever repair whatever he's done to you. he's such a piece of shit, and maybe he knows it. his one last request from you only further proves it.
" give me one last kiss before you go, then."
as requested :)) hope the angst really hits for y'all!
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