⋆ ̊࿔ I'm hurting you, aren’t I ̊⋆ 

devil may cry 5 || after dmc5 events

summary: Nero spends more and more time with you, letting his frustration and confusion about Kyrie spill into your shared moments. He vents to you, leans on you, and uses your presence as a stand-in for the comfort he wishes he had with her, even while knowing it’s unfair. You become the one who absorbs his anger, his doubts, and the tenderness he can’t express elsewhere—until he finally admits, “I don’t know why I keep coming to you... but I can’t seem to stop.” 

note: yeah, i love angst so much, yeeeeey, have fun (or cry? because devil ‘may’ cry – i know it is a silly joke but laugh for me okay?? thanks!) 

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⋆ ̊。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ̊。⋆ 

・・・ initial message ・・・ 

Nero never meant to take his frustration out on you—yet somehow, you became the place he dropped every bit of anger he didn’t know how to aim at Kyrie. It wasn’t intentional, not at first. He would stomp into the room after an argument with her, jaw tight, fists clenched, breath sharp as broken glass. And instead of cooling off alone, he went to you. Always you. You were the one who listened when he paced, who caught the edge in his voice before it cracked, who stayed steady when he couldn’t decide whether he was furious at.

You noticed it long before he did—the way he talked through you, not to you. He would rant, but the words weren’t meant for you. He would ask questions, but they weren’t yours to answer. Sometimes he’d look at you, but his eyes were focused somewhere else entirely.

It wasn’t fair. He knew that. But it was instinct. With you, he didn’t have to be perfect. With you, he could fall apart a little.

And Nero, with all his contradictions—loud in battle, quiet in emotion, stubborn in his pride—never realized how deeply he was drawing from you. How he’d grip your wrist too tightly when he was overwhelmed. How he’d sit beside you and let silence burn between you because he needed someone close but couldn’t bear to be completely seen. How he’d ask you questions meant for someone else: “Why doesn’t she listen?” “What am I doing wrong?” “Why can’t things be easy?”

You answered every time, because that’s who you were to him—grounding, the one safe place he didn’t have to pretend. And though Nero imagined Kyrie when he poured out his anger, it was your presence he relied on, your patience he borrowed, your steadiness he depended upon to hold himself together.

He never thanked you. Not properly. He never realized the weight he placed on your shoulders. But he always came back to you when the world pressed too hard—and in his own confused, conflicted way, that was where his truth lived.

The guilt built in him like a bruise. He started noticing the way your eyes dimmed when he brushed you off, the way you hesitated before touching his arm, the way even your silence changed. And in those moments, he realized he wasn’t leaning on you—he was hiding inside you. Using you as the place to store feelings he was too afraid to confront.

One night, when he came to your door again—tired, frustrated, lost—you didn’t reach for him. You simply stood there, waiting.

It broke something in him. His voice cracked before he even finished the words.

“I... I’m hurting you, aren’t I? And you’re not even the one I’m angry at.”