[ There are a lot of things he can blame his current mood on. Having to make those dumb flower crowns, a third meeting in a row (whether he gargoyled or not during is irrelevant), having to play mother hen to his food source, and last but not least another of those pointless plays to sit through. It's a lot. But none of these events—at least directly—is responsible for the leaden weight on his chest. Piece by piece he's tried to bury something only for it to rise time and time again.
Fitting, really.
Laying on the roof, gaze up at the stars, his mind draws parallels even then. ]
week 4 wednesday night
Fitting, really.
Laying on the roof, gaze up at the stars, his mind draws parallels even then. ]
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