Demian and Sinclair as a ship is awesome but its really frustrating because I fully believe they would be like THE yaoi of limbus company if we knew fucking ANYTHING about demian and his motivations because like. what the fuck do you MEAN this is canon dialogue
*+.~ sinclair x demian : AO3
content warning/notes: fluff, mostly, it gets suggestive if you squint 😭😭😭 kind of canon compliant? i also forgot how to format so bare with me pls
"I believe you can soar, Sinclair."
He could do nothing but look up at the blood-red sky, the drying of blood and tears felt on his cheeks as the rest of the other sinners had fallen. Eyes threatening to close and his body weakened, Sinclair could do nothing but let go of his halberd clutched so tightly in his hand, the metal clanging against the ground littered in bones and whatever else Kromer preferred to decorate her battlegrounds with.
He felt his legs weaken— before long, his knees met the ground painfully, and so did his head—, lacking the energy to continue forward towards the hill of skulls and corpses.
It hurt everywhere on his body. Every limb, every muscle, every single cell in his body wanted to self destruct at that moment; he could feel a nosebleed coming, and lightheadedness had already hit him several dozen minutes ago.
It's the end, isn't it, Sinclair thought.
I've lived long enough. Long enough being a crappy, dirty, ugly being.
Being some dumb idiot who happens to hold a halberd.
I'm just a pathetic baby.
Sinclair tried closed his eyes, self doubt still prominent in his mind, before he spotted something familiar.
Blue...? Gray?
"I believe you can still soar, Sinclair."
He could not muster the energy to respond to the unknown speaker, yet still trained his eyes on him.
The figure approached closer, the blue scarf around his neck fluttering in the wind. As the figure drew closer, Sinclair could now easily recognize him as Demian, a sight that would have made him stumble if not for his current position.
As calm and as gentle as ever, Demian kneeled down to meet eyes with Sinclair, who laid on the floor facedown, his cheek to the ground.
He reached over to Sinclair, gently flipping him on his back as he kneeled down next to his body.
This would at least be a little more comfortable for him, Demian considered.
Sinclair gazed up at the other man emptily, as if his soul was already drained from him; the only way Demian still knew he was alive was the pulse on his wrist as he held his hand.
Demian wordlessly interlocks his fingers with Sinclair's, the last bit of warmth still present in both of their bodies.
"D-demian...?"
"It's me, yes."
"What happened to..."
Demian sighs. "I got rid of her."
Sinclair breathes out a sigh of relief, but even with Kromer's death, an uneasy feeling still creeps up his spine.
"Where's the rest of them...?" Sinclair mutters the question under his breath due to fatigue, but Demian still catches on.
"Your clockhead manager is rescuing them at this moment," Demian states, "But I'm here for you."
"Why?"
"Why wouldn't I be? I need to check up on old friends from time to time, shouldnt I? Especially now that you're employed," Demian answers, adding a light chuckle at the end of the last statement as an attempt at humor.
Sinclair does not laugh.
"Hm. Well, since I'm here..."
Sinclair felt strong arms under his body, and then his weight lifted into the air.
"De-Demian?!??" Sinclair's eyes widen. If he was able to move, he would be flailing around or getting back onto the ground.
"You can't move; did you want me to just leave you there to die?" He asks plainly.
Sinclair had half a mind to consider saying "yes, actually," but he was already being carried and he didn't want to burden Demian further with more requests.
After a while, Sinclair looks over his shoulder.
"Wait, the bus is the other way....?"
"I'm taking you somewhere else special first. Don't you worry, you'll be back with your coworkers in no time. I let your clockhead manager and the woman with white hair know, since they seem to be the most knowledgable."
Somewhere special....
It was only a short while before Demian had announced they had arrived.
Due to Sinclair's inability to walk, he was still being carried, but he turned his head to face the front.
"This is... your house?" Sinclair remarked. He remembered seeing it during his school days, but he was never able to enter.
"Yes, my old house from our school ages. You recognize it too, don't you?" Demian replies.
"I..."
Sinclair blushed a little, recalling the times where he would come across it, praying for a day where Demian would happen to exit his house at the same time he walked in front to get to school. Or walked by on the way home, wondering what went on behind those shut windows.
"Of course I noticed, Sinclair. Your amusement of my daily life never failed to intrigue me. In the same way, you intrigue me as well." Demian admits nonchalantly.
He was interested... in me?
Demian pushes open the door (there was no need for a lock as it was run down), flipping the switch closest to the door to activate a janky light that flickered repeatedly; giving the living room an eerie feel.
"Can't believe the things in here survived, or at least most of it," Demian muses.
His arms are comfortable, Sinclair remarks. Embarassed, he brushes off that thought, but heat still rises to his cheeks.
"You alright, Sinclair?" Demian stops in his tracks to look down at Sinclair, who was trying to hide his expression in his sleeve.
Sinclair nodded quickly, shifting in Demian's arms a little.
"If anything feels wrong, let me know."
Demian continues to walk around the house still faced, yet even Sinclair could sense a hint of regret emanating from him.
He continues to walk around the house, making small comments of Can't believe I used to live here, and other fond recallings as such.
However, like a stubborn fly, a cruel feeling in the pit of Sinclair's stomach could not be disregarded; it asked, why?
Why was he so loved?
Even though he was dirty, useless, ugly...
All the things Kromer had told him still stuck with him.
"I saw a future where we were powerful together, striking down those faux humans left and right, with YOU at the lead! Marvelous, isn't it?"
That thought shook him to his core. Working with Kromer? Against those like his parents? It was unmistakenably impossible, yet deep in his heart he wondered if it would be real.
Would Demian still come to my rescue?
"Sinclair? Sinclair, are you alright?"
Demian sounded concerned. Frightened, almost.
It took a few seconds before Sinclair realized that he was crying; wetness peeking at the corner of his eyes, biting on the sleeve which he had used to cover his mouth to hide his sobs.
Sinclair realized was closer to the ground now; Demian had sat down when he noticed the boy's sobs, his head resting gently on Demian's lap.
"I- I-..."
He tried to talk, but he couldn't find words to explain his thoughts. Sinclair felt that he could only cry and sob.
"Sinclair; I'm right here. You're safe," Demain coaxed, his hand running through the other's hair as an attempt at calming him down. Despite his gentle demeanor, inside he was boiling.
Kromer made him like this. I can't believe her, he frustratingly laments to himself. I should have saved him sooner... before that Kromer manipulated him.
"...But I'm dirty, a-and useless- and, and, she said— t-that... why are you c-caring for me...?" Sinclair mustered out between sobs. "I-I just feel like... like I should have just died earlier-"
"Sinclair, no, don't think of yourself like that. I care for you because of my own volition."
"Th-there's no need... I don't..."
"I love you, Sinclair."
He stopped sobbing, just for a moment, making eye contact with Demian, his eyes widened as he took in his confession.
"Wh-What is there to love of me, Demian?"
Demian took a deep breath, moving his palm from Sinclair's hair to the side of his cheek. "Everything. I love you for all that you are. No matter how dirty or useless or disgusting you think you are; no matter how stupid you feel, I love every part of you. The parts of you that are so dedicated to finding out about me, the way you care for others so deeply. Even if you do not love yourself, I will love you, Sinclair. And I'm sorry."
"You're...sorry?" Sinclair questions weakly.
"I'm sorry that I did not come sooner. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you my feelings sooner."
Even though Sinclair could not believe his own ears, he could tell that Demian's words were filled with honesty, even if it felt unreal.
"D-Demian...."
Sinclair reached an arm up towards the other male, and Demian responded in kind, gently holding his hand and putting it against his own face.
"I'm real, don't you worry." Demian chuckles.
He turns his head, planting a light kiss on Sinclair's palm. He blushes a light pink, making Demian smile.
"Would you like to head back, Sinclair?" Demian speaks, after a while.
"...Are you able to come with me?" Sinclair gingerly asks.
"Sure. If you don't mind, of course."
-
This time, Demian carries the injured male on his front, Sinclair's chin resting over his shoulder, his labored breath felt against his neck as he traverses back to the train. Dante and Faust allow the two back onto the train together, and the two tell the other sinners to give them some space.
"Those two are in a difficult time right now, it's best to leave them be."
Rodion tried to interject with a playful "so are they fucking or-" earning a prompt jab in the stomach by Outis.
"I.H.H.G.B." Ryōshu states curtly, leaning against the train wall as she lights her 37th cigarette of the day, a surprisngly positive message compared to her usual ancronymic threats, "I.W.B.S.I.H.D."
Dante makes several ticking sounds of condolence, noting the wrecked state Sinclair was found in.
-
Demian sits on Sinclair's bed as Sinclair is comfortably nestled in his lap. Demian runs his fingers softly through his hair, a silent moment of peace as Sinclair slowly closes his eyes.
"I love you." Demian whispers, breaking the silence only for a little. Sinclair smiles.
"Mhm. I do too..."
A prolonged silence followed.
"You want me to help your muscle aches? or do you just want to sleep?" Demian offers.
"Since you're already here, I guess you can help my muscles." Sinclair felt nervous asking Demian to help massage him, but it was only fair since Sinclair didn't know how long it would be before they saw each other again.
Sinclair lies flat on his stomach, and Demian still sits next to him, gently placing the heel of his palms near his shoulderblades and pressing lightly.
"Hmm..." Sinclair sighs satisfactorily, shifting a little in his position. Demian doesnt mind.
"Is this alright?" He sets his elbows down in the soft space on either side of Sinclair's spine, and the blond boy shivers.
"I-its good." Sinclair replies, a strong blush on his face, grateful that he was facing away from Demian.
"Don't be so nervous, Sinclair. I'm simply relieving you of tension. You surely met quite a bit of challenge on the battlefield, no?" Demian coaxed, feeling the tension in Sinclair's muscles dissapear under his fingers in real time.
I haven't felt this relaxed in years, Sinclair realized, finally feeling his own weight on his bed. Usually when he slept, it was quick, with no time to relax, as he was too exhausted to take in his surroundings before passing out. Now, he could feel the bed beneath him, feel his breath in time with Demian's, and feel his tight muscles slowly give out.
"Sinclair, are yo— oh."
Before he realized, Sinclair had fallen asleep, his closed eyes and steady heart rate giving Demian a peace of mind.
"That was all it took huh," Demian muses to himself, leaning over the other boy's sleeping figure as he whispered, "my poor dear must have been so pent up..."
He plants a light kiss on the other's cheek, ruffling his hair in the process. He then tries to slowly remove Sinclair's coat, in hopes of Sinclair being more comfortable when he wakes up. It took a bit of time, but eventually the heavy fabric comes off.
It's a bit hard to take a heavy coat off of someone lying face down, but if anyone would be so determined to do it, it would be Demian.
At last, Demian glances regretfully at the sleeping man before he leaves some items on the nightstand, and leaves his room.
As he makes his way to the main hall of Memphistoles, the other sinners are quiet.
"<What happened to Sinclair?>" Dante asks. Even through his ticking, one could make out the worry and concerned tone of their words.
"Sinclair is sleeping. Rest assured, he is safe." Demian replies calmly.
"I must say, I can forsee a great future for you all. I would love to talk, but unfortunately, I do have duties I must fufill. One day we may cross paths again, dear accomplices of Sinclair." Demain says, bidding farewell to the sinners and stepping off the bus.
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Ryoshu: "I hope he gets better, it would be sad if he didn't"
also whatever the items are you can make it up, it could be a note or a promise ring whatever
i love these two to death and sinclair is actually my son guys
