Plato And Amaimons Alternate Ending

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Mephisto reached down, kneeling and carefully, oh so carefully, he picked Amaimon up. He pulled the demon up with him, not caring that his shirt got wet. Amaimon looked so small, felt so utterly fragile. How had he ever hurt him so deeply? He pulled Amaimon close, pressing him close to his chest, letting the younger's head rest on his shoulder, his tail not curling fully around Amaimon's wet one to keep it from dragging limply one the floor. The time king's heart wrenched as he thought in passing that Amaimon looked dead, so very limp, his breathing so soft and shallow. Slowly he made his way across the room, removing a large towel from the small closet where linens and such were held. He'd never done this before so it was more than awkward…show more content…
Not now, but soon, but he also didn't want to stay in Amaimon's room. Well he did, but he didn't think he should. So he reached a compromise, a cowardly one, but for now it would do. He stood up, walking over to the desk in Amaimon's room, the one cover in crumpled papers. His eyes narrowed at those papers before he slowly grabbed one, a touch concerned about snooping, wondering what could be. Slowly he opened the paper up, he almost audibly gasped at what he saw, quickly grabbing another paper and opening it. Drawings, every crumpled piece was a drawing, well parts of drawings, they weren't complete. Two questions arose his mind as mine looked through them, snooping around in the desk draws till he found a sketchbook. One, why had Amaimon crumpled so many pictures, they were beautiful, how did he not think they weren't good enough? More important of a question though, Amaimon drew!? He'd had no idea. Not the slightest clue and these drawings were beautiful, plants, animals, and even Behemoth a few times. He realized that he knew very little about Amaimon as a person, that having viewed him as a toy for so long meant he couldn't have so recently cared less about him. Mephisto didn't know much about Amaimon other than how he adored Behemoth, candy, and junk food, and hated Rin. He knew nothing about who he was under that, his perceptions painfully shallow. The time King nodded to himself pulling out a pen and a piece of paper. this had to happen. It didn't matter if he didn't understand fully why he was so conflicted, didn't matter if he still had trouble figuring out if he was mad or not, something had to change. He was a coward and he knew it, so instead of gently shaking Amaimon awake, nor merely waiting for the earth king to wake wake up, he wrote, taking a deep breath as he started, not fully sure where to even

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