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Hide (Spain x Reader)Nowadays, he almost finds himself yearning to retch at the pitiful, deplorable sight of her, despising all that she does, reviling all those clean and unaware simplicities she employs, all that familiar silk in her words. There are the constant, guileless smiles, and the ways in which she’ll still make careful observances of his weary, trembling condition, bewildered at where it all went wrong and Antonio began losing his mind. How can she possibly come to understand, after all, why he lingers further into the night's dregs than any other man of his age, without alcohol to pry open his eyelids and prolong his stare? How can she understand why it is that he'd rather have the Devil at his throat than her unassuming, excruciating presence?
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He has no idea, no singular semblance of a coherent, passing thought that may allow him to begin, nor sufficiently comprehend what he has undergone in the time since he once lived, which of course comes to lead into dread,