Each of the ghouls have confided in Dew enough when he was stable that he could make some pretty hurtful personal insults fly from his mouth before he really even has time to think, and by the time they're out the damage is done.
He gets to watch as a face of concern turns to confusion, hurt, and anger. He'll take anything given to him, yelling, crying, screaming, even a smack if that's that they feel he won't fight it. Even relish in it. He knows they won't be soft with him again, won't try it because they see him for what he is.
An abusive asshole of a half bread fire ghoul who manipulated them into spilling their story's, and personal troubles just to use that against them. Make fun, and hurt when they tried to lend the same shoulder to someone they thought was their friend, their pack.
They'll never see, or feel the pain he actually feels in his chest each time. How much he longs to have that softness he once gave given to him. Patience to get past the charred black exterior to find the soft fluffy undercrust.
He's accepted he won't have it. Accepts that he's stuck in a never ending cycle of abuse that he's the cause of. One he's completely self aware of. Thinking he deserves to feel the sharp sting when they snap at him. Call him horrible things, and tell him how horrific of a ghoul he truely is.
And they're right.
It's a kind of pain he takes refuge in because it's all that's familiar. The closest thing to a comforting hand being the backslap of Cirrus' wrist after spilling some of the worst vile filled venom from his once soft lips.
Holding back the tears as icy skin connected to a burning cheek. Craving for her to slap him again if it meant to feel her touch apon his skin.
Choke back the sob as he gets any semblance of punishment that may lead to something soft. But he's not allowed soft. He's never allowed to have soft again. Not after what he's done. What he's said. How he's hurt them.
He'll watch as they cry, yell, even ask a simple 'why..?' but he can't answer.
That only makes them angrier.
Adding fule to the fire that burns to slowly rip his soul apart as he ruins everything remotely close to a friendship he had.
He'll just give a sickening smile and laugh, spewing more bile as he chokes on his own knowing this would be the last time he ever saw compassion in their eyes, a chance to explain himself.
He needs to snuff out any sparks of reignition that he could have softness from them again.
Needs to make sure his damage is done so he can be punished accordingly.
Be treated how he deserved to be treated.
He knows his behavior isn't right. Knows how horrific he's being and it makes him sick but he can't stop it. And If you can't stop it why not embrace it.
Embrace the pain, the loneliness, the ice cold feeling of a stab in his heart as he watched someone once so close to him that they told him their darkest secrets, biggest fears, and so much more turn to object horror, and anger at the words being said.
Alone.
That's what he needs.
He needs to be alone. Needs to suffer alone. Needs to die alone.
It's what he deserves.
It's what he'll make sure he gets.
No more soft.
No more care.
Only simply being,
Alone.
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