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“Come ons.”
“Nuh.”
“I can’ts helps you if you don’ts lets me, Moidaface.”
There was a pause before Murderface (albeit reluctantly) turned his arm over, exposing the undersides to Toki. As gently as possible, Toki took his wrist and drew him closer, absent-mindedly rubbing his thumb against the dry, scabby skin.
“Dese ams new.”
It was a statement, not a question. Toki knew where his friend’s scars were, and he didn’t recognize these. They were grouped together near his wrist, their harsh, angry redness burning into Toki’s retinas. In the past, he may have been angry- angry at whoever or whatever caused this, angry at Twinkletits for not doing his fucking job, angry at whoever made William think it was okay to hurt himself. But that had all faded away by now, replaced by a hollow pain in his chest.
“I’s sorries, Moidaface.”
“You didn’t do nothin’,” Murderface said, but his eyes were starting to fill up with tears, and that hollow feeling in Toki’s chest grew stronger. “It’sch fine, I’m fine.”
“No, you amn’ts,” Toki said, knowing that Murderface wouldn’t believe him. He reached for some bandaids and Neosporin- amazingly, Willy actually let him dress and bandage the cuts.
“You can always talks to mes, you knows,” Toki said softly, smoothing down the last bandaid. “I don’ts wants you to feels likes you can’ts.”
Murderface whined, but he didn’t draw back. Instead, he moved closer to Toki, pressing his face into Toki’s chest and wrapping his trembling arms around him.
“M’ schorry,” he whimpered pitifully. “You schouldn’t… schouldn’t have to worry about me…”
Toki just shushed him, running his fingers through Murderface’s frizzy hair, trying to somehow calm him down.
“I cares abouts you,” he said gently. “Can’ts stops myselfs from worryings.”
At least Murderface didn’t object to that. He even seemed to calm down slightly, although fistfuls of Toki’s shirt were still clenched in his hands.
“…Schtay with me?”
Toki smiled, pressing a small kiss to Murderface’s forehead.
“Wasn’t gonna go nowheres anyhows.”