The Bracken Woods don't look at me

He heard the approach of another, running, but he didn't lift his head until he heard his name. His chest tightened with an indescribable fear, fixing the single eye he could open on his friend and desperately searching his expression. What he found made his heart drop, but before he could react, Delight was coming towards him—
And then he was just there. He pressed against him without thinking, his own blood rapidly soaking into his friend's dark fur, and buried his face in his chest. The tears didn't stop coming this time. He couldn't stop trembling, either. He felt cold, weak— but he felt relief, too. Runion was dead. His family was safe. Delight— didn't hate him, at least not yet, and maybe that meant he wouldn't. Maybe he understood.
Zamael's arrival startled him (he hadn't registered the call, or anything after he'd heard his name), and he pressed tighter against Delight— only for him to be nudged away. Don't— The word was so quiet it could have been overlooked. He swallowed hard and clamped his mouth shut again, the feeling of air against his tongue reminding him of the blood coating his mouth. Even as Zamael inspected him, he trembled fiercely.
He flinched back when his brother noticed the nightshade, scrambling to press against Delight again. It wasn't until Zamael moved away that he spoke, words meant for Delight. I'm sorry, He managed numbly, as quiet as before. If he noticed Zamael's reaction to their brother's corpse, he showed no sign; he could only tuck himself tightly against his friend, recalling with sudden, horrible clarity the days after he'd murdered his father. An irrational thought took hold of him then, and the fear from earlier returned, forcing more words from him in a panicked rush. Don't— don't leave, please. I need you.