Neverwinter Forest i hate my last name. i hate everything it stands for

He leaned against him, closing his eyes as he did so, kept them squinted as they walked. Cupid wanted to feel relieved, or happy, or blissful. He grasped for those feelings he had the last time they had met. Those were long gone now, erased and replaced with growing dread. It almost made him puke.

By the time they reached the creek—or lack thereof— Cupid was feeling ten times worse than before, more so emotionally than physically.

He quickly stumbled towards the edge and starts digging and digging. The speed in which he did so rampes up as time went on. He grew more and more desperate. He clenched his jaw, his breath grew heavy, his eyes began to water. Fuck, I can't find anything. I can't- I can't find anything. He spoke as if his tongue were stuck in his throat. Damnit, why did I do this? Why did I do this to myself? He felt as if he'd faint, but Cupid still dug like his life depended on it.