—"I'm not even real.."—DG muttered to himself, his tone sounding saddened, very different from the playful tone he usually has. His expression showed irritation and sadness —"What am I after all...?"—

DG grumbled, his fingers digging between the skin of his stomach, rummaging through the organs and the black liquid that was his blood, the liquid stained the couch and some of the floor, spilling more and more out of his body. He wouldn't die because of this, he knew that, but a part of him was thoughtful, how could he consider himself alive when he wouldn't even die if he got hurt? The mark on his back was a painful reminder that he wasn't a real human being, and that hurt, too much.

he snorted, tightly clutching his guts, he didn't feel the pain of it, he wished he could feel the pain that normal people feel. His hands were shaking, he was on the verge of tears, but he refused to let even a single tear fall, he didn't want to feel weak, sensitive. DG snorted, about to rip his webs in half when the sound of the apartment door opening and closing again, you had arrived home