𝐦𝐜𝐲𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬 !

prora | techno x dream

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘮 𝘪 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 :)

𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘶𝘦𝘭 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘪 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤/𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 <33

𝘪'𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘯 𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘭 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘭. 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢 𝘱𝘰𝘨𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘮𝘱 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘶𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘶 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦. 𝘶 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥!

                                -

"my god, you look terrible." dave murmurs, voice mellow with pity as he carefully examines the sight in front of him.

it's not pretty.

clay is on his hands and knees, fingers anchored to the ground as he coughs up a cocktail of blood and saliva onto the dirt and tries not to look like he's beaten. they both know he is though. he never even had a chance.

crouching down to clay's height, dave slips the tip of his sword under the blonde's chin and gently tilts it upwards so that emerald meets hazel. clay looks near-shattered, eyes bloodshot and cold yet he still has the gall to sneer at dave; taunting him to keep fighting, to finally snap. luckily for the younger, dave has learnt patience and calm. or by now, clay would be a dead man walking.

"are you done now?" dave sighs, sheathing his sword and extending a hand to clay who slaps it away, choosing instead to use his shaky body to clamber to his feet. dave could laugh, if he wasn't so disgusted by the blonde's warped ideas of honour. this kid is going to get himself killed.

"again." clay refuses to look at him.

"you're mad." he says it in pure disbelief.

"i said again, techno." the use of his nickname catches him off-guard.

"i'm not gonna-"

"what. are you scared?"

the question lingers in the air. it's a poor jab, a stupid taunt but it hits its mark. clay always did know how to play the older perfectly.

"c'mon then." dave grunts, attempting to ignore the victory smirk that adorns clay's face. he always gives into the younger eventually, it's a fact they both know and one that clay consistently takes advantage of. he practically has the older wrapped around his little finger, dave may be the wiser, the stronger but clay always wins in the end.

not this time.

he draws his sword grimly, wrapping his fingers around the hilt and watches the diamond glint wickedly in the light. splatters of blood glaze the blue of the blade, and he can't tell whether it's his or clay's. he's not even sure if it matters anymore.

"ready?" clay says, twirling his own sword deftly between his fingers, cocky till the very end.

"are you?" it's an olive branch, shrivelled and decaying, but an olive branch nonetheless.

"always." and just like that, any hope dave had for clay is gone. evaporated.

there's heavy pause that presides time in which they both drink eachother in. clay's smile falters a little and dave can see the reality of what he's doing start to seep into his head but it's quickly shaken away. after all, it's just a game, right?