"... Fuck," Much breathed, barely moving his lips. She had a point, didn't she> Much didn't like thinking about it, but he'd been dead for months and they hadn't noticed. They'd felt bad for not noticing, afterwards, but that didn't change the fact that their lives had gone on without a second thought to his absence.
Any logical counter to this train of thought had seeped out of him, a while ago. Much never felt this flat, this low. How could he even start arguing with her? Even if he did have little pricks of doubt, the more he thought about it, the more it felt like what she was saying was true.
She had a point about caring, too. Sometimes Much felt he was the only one who gave a shit about Luna's situation, for example, the others content to wait and let the gods keep her in slavery till she chose to leave herself, like that was a thing good people did.
He let his hand fall to the ground, where he started pulling up pieces of grass. "Yeah," he muttered, thinking about how hard he'd tried to rally everyone before the Symposium, how none of the guys had listened to him. How he wasn't allowed to still be bitter about it, how he'd gotten over it months ago, but Tuck could still bring up the Peitho thing against him when it suited. "Fuck them."
She was right, what was the point in going back. They'd all just shout at him again, anyway.