[God he's sick of all this. He's tired of arguing and tired of worrying and tired of being tired. He's not cut out for this, not like Meyer, who never seems to turn his brain off from the constant worry and forethought and calculations. He's supposed to be the one without a care, the one who throws himself into booze and sex and drugs and not give a shit about anything else.
Maybe that's why he gives too much of a shit about one thing and one thing only.
He groans, low in his throat, and then he's throwing himself on a kitchen chair again, head buried in his arms, ready to not move for a week.]
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Maybe that's why he gives too much of a shit about one thing and one thing only.
He groans, low in his throat, and then he's throwing himself on a kitchen chair again, head buried in his arms, ready to not move for a week.]