The complete English patch for DMMd is out! Just a heads up for you guys, haha. I hope the DMMd fandom becomes much, much bigger now!

Anyway, yeah. DMMd reconnect is out too- you can start from the good end or bad end of any character, ahaha. The bad ends are heartbreakingly cruel. Ugh. But anyway, I just couldn't stand what had happened to Aoba (and Clear) in the bad end route, so I decided to sooth my mental trauma by writing what I hoped it would turn out into. Still, it's really an awfully good experience, go play it!

SO YEAH. Rant over. Clear needs more love. Bad ends need more good ends.

So, read on!

Sometimes, Clear discovered, Aoba would cry, his shoulders trembling weakly as he hunched over in the cell, his beautiful blue hair trailing down his shoulders. Something in his chest ached whenever he saw this, but then his right eye would throb, and the thought would vanish, unfounded.

Whenever he met Aoba in his padded cell, the latter would be staring out of his prison with a blank, distant expression on his beautiful face. Sometimes, Clear could see almost invisible tear tracks down his cheeks, and without knowing why, he would reach out to wipe them off his face.

Aoba would always look up, returning to himself, before he would smile almost faintly as he gazed at Clear. Sometimes, it seemed as though even though he was looking directly at Clear, he was seeing straight through him, and the smile was meant for the someone than Clear could never be.

He could never be what he was before again.

Before!

His memories before Toue had 'reinstalled and fixed his functions' were incomplete, almost as if they were erased. All he remembered was that he... loved Aoba.

Sometimes, without meaning to, he would call out to Aoba, his mouth naturally forming the words 'Mas-' before he would catch himself, jolting himself back to reality.

Mas... What came after Mas? Why couldn't he remember?

Why did Aoba-san look so... sad...?

Even though they could be together for eternity? Did he not want Clear anymore? But it didn't matter, because he belonged to Clear now, and he would have eyes for only him soon, even if Clear had to remove his sight until his world revolved only around him.

"Come on, Aoba-san," he pulled the other's hand almost tenderly, into the operation room. Aoba followed him, stumbling slightly, looking like a lost animal.

"C-Clear..." His voice crackled slightly from disuse, as he voiced his fear for the first time.

Clear ignored him, and rounded over to the counter, where an array of tools was lined up in front of him. "Aoba-san, please lie down here." He gestured to a small inclined support, similar to that of a bed, with a raised platform that could act as a support for his head.

Aoba lay down obediently, hesitantly, his trust in Clear overriding his fear, and he closed his eyes.

Something was going to happen to him here. But if it was Clear doing it...

A slight pressure on his eyelid jolted him, but he forced himself to continue lying down. He had told himself beforehand... He would do whatever Clear wanted him to do. It was his punishment… for not being able to save Clear.

The pressure on his eyelid tightened, and Clear's voice sounded in his ear. "Aoba-san, this may hurt a little." His voice was void of malice- it sounded terrifyingly empty of ill-intent, but the truly frightening part was that he sounded almost tender.

His scalpel went down.

A splash of red.

Aoba's world was dyed in crimson, and he opened his mouth weakly in a silent cry. Hot, blinding tears ran down his cheeks; he couldn't even feel if he was crying because of the terrible, scorching pain- his right eye was completely destroyed.

"N-No..." His voice sounded agonized, as he struggled to stay conscious, his vision dyed in red. Still, he called out to Clear almost desperately, a weak plea for him to stop.

Intense pain scorched through Aoba's left eye. His vision was torn from him.

Before, his world had been filled with white. Clinical white, his padded cell, and Clear, whose white strands framed his perfectly beautiful face.

But now, all he could see was black. Endless black, which he would never escape from, and panic overrode his senses as he realized what had happened.

Never again would he see Grandma, Ren, Koujaku, Noiz, Mink, the annoying kids, Haga-san, Yoshie-san… And Clear.

Where was Clear?

"Clear…?" He whispered softly, still searching out the person he loved most in the world, his panic heightened in the darkness. He heard a sharp intake of breath above him, and he reached out, grasping something soft, warm… and comforting.

A wet trail of water dripped onto his cheeks. He could barely feel it, but it was undeniable- tears?

Clear was crying.

Tears clouded his vision, and Clear stood still, willing the pain in his chest to go away.

Aoba-san.

Was he damaged again? Did he have to be repaired again?

Aoba-san...

Why did he feel like it was him whose insides he been torn out, exposed to the open sir, as if he couldn't breathe, and the very atmosphere in the room was suffocating him?

His right eye seared, memories of him plunging a knife into the right side of his skull in an attempt to destroy the key lock binding him to Toue, to escape the clutches and save…

... Master?

That's right. He had completely forgotten. Aoba-san was his Master... His dearest Master. The one he had vowed to devote his life to protecting. The one who was lying beneath him now, bleeding profusely, his once beautiful eyes sightless.

The rush of memories was almost intoxicatingly dizzying; Aoba standing on the veranda with him, sheltered by his umbrella; waiting for the stars to rain down upon them. Aoba, cupping his face in his hands as if he were too precious to let go, stroking his face in wonderment. And Aoba, sweet-smelling, hair dripping wet as he shielded them under his umbrella and pressed their lips together gently, enveloped by the comforting sound of the rain.

The stench of blood filled his senses, the shock of it driving him back to reality. He had done this. He has done this to the person he treasured most in the world... He was the one who betrayed the both of them.

Tears continued to pour down his eyes, blinding his vision, making everything around him a blurred mess. A warm sensation touched his hand, tugging it gently, and he raised his eyes. Aoba hand lay upon his; a silent question.

Are you okay?

Clear's shoulders jerked in surprise, a gasp of pain escaping from his lips. Aoba-san still cared about him, even after what he had done to him, entrapping him in the last place he wanted to be in.

"Aoba-san..." His agonized whisper resounded across the dead silence in the white room as he gathered Aoba in his arms, unable to ignore the gaping wound he had caused in his eyes, and the frailness of his limbs.

Aoba jolted at his touch, before shifting uncomfortably, and for a moment, he shrunk back, instinctively trying to escape Clear's embrace, the hot, painful, crimson liquid still flowing down his cheek. "Nn…" He made a weak sound of protest, as he flinched away from Clear.

A jolt of pain spiked across Clear's chest at the sight of Aoba, who was clearly frightened of him. He made no attempt to pursue him, instead tending to Aoba's open wound, doing his best to stop the blood flow, and all the while, Aoba sat there, unmoving, unsure of what to expect.

"Aoba-san… I'll get you out of here—I promise."

... What I secretly wished was that Clear would realize what he had done before it was too late.

And I'm totally fully intending to continue this, because, ugh, they need their happy ends.

Don't forget to review! :)

Thanks for reading!