Broken Boulder i dont even feel like writing

Somewhere between Aditya's words, he took another step back, this time caught in a wave of dizziness that forced him to sit promptly and ungracefully. He'd been unprepared for his ire, the bite behind his words, though he supposed in a way he was right. It just— hurt. Alarian was scarcely allowed his hurt or grief; he knew it came in waves of irrationality and periods of isolation, that he could hardly be called reasonable when he felt burned.
But it felt like he never got a break. Logically he knew it was ridiculous to expect anyone to just roll over and take it; he didn't even know what reaction he'd want. He'd feel like an ass if anyone actually did that. It didn't matter anyway.
At some point, he'd fixed his gaze firmly on the ground, and it stayed there— even as Aditya's last words cut through him, leaving a burning hole in his chest. The tears he'd held back threatened to spill, now. He couldn't bring himself to speak, or even look at him. There were things he wanted to say— things he disagreed with, more venomous words to return.
He just couldn't. He blinked rapidly, the first few tears soaking into his fur, and turned his face slightly away. His ears burned hot; why did he always have to cry? It was the most embarrassing thing— he'd come to hate the feeling, knowing his weakness was exposed for everyone to see. Especially Aditya, especially right now; all he wanted was to hold on to his anger, to feel that a bit longer, to tell the wolf before him to get the fuck off his borders and never come back.
He cried instead, quiet and fighting the process every step of the way.