2/2
[The silence yawns, unfilled as he just sits there, skin prickling from the alternating hot and cold crawling beneath it. He wants to break something. Wants to pretend he heard nothing at all. Wants to stick his fingers into the wound he's been so carefully cleaning and twist so he can ask how much it hurts. Wants to shrug it off and simply move on.]
[In the end, the only broken thing is the sigh preceding his words.] Why are you such a bastard?