[Envy listens, and feels sick, but mostly he just feels angrier. He wants to kill this Stanley, over and over and violently, wants to gouge out his eyes and tear his lips off for even thinking what he had, much less writing Heather a damn poem about it as he followed her. He clenches his hands, fingernails digging into his palm.]
I don't know. Fuck.
[He doesn't know what else to say. But this...explains a whole lot, about what had happened.]
no subject
I don't know. Fuck.
[He doesn't know what else to say. But this...explains a whole lot, about what had happened.]
[The anger is palpable in his voice.]