[ It's funny, that this of all things would be what feels too intimate. But here they are. Alucard's hand slips into his, dry but cool, all thin, delicate bones, nothing like a claw at all, and his fingers wrap around it. ]
We love you. Both of us. We still love you. And we know that what you have to be is not what you are.
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We love you. Both of us. We still love you. And we know that what you have to be is not what you are.