[He hates that word. Sorry. What good are apologies? They're not what he wants.
(he's never going to get that)
Waiting for Aang's reply, Shikamaru's teeth remain clenched, holding fast to that rage. It feels too slippery to hold with each second, and his head is in his hands before the wait is over, fingers digging hard again his hairline and he feels dizzy and angry and useless and sick.]
Is that supposed to change anything?! [Right, Shikamaru. Real mature. He bites the tip of his tongue until he can taste blood, one hand moving to press his fingers against the center of his forehead.] Nevermind. Forget it.
[Voice/Private]
(he's never going to get that)
Waiting for Aang's reply, Shikamaru's teeth remain clenched, holding fast to that rage. It feels too slippery to hold with each second, and his head is in his hands before the wait is over, fingers digging hard again his hairline and he feels dizzy and angry and useless and sick.]
Is that supposed to change anything?! [Right, Shikamaru. Real mature. He bites the tip of his tongue until he can taste blood, one hand moving to press his fingers against the center of his forehead.] Nevermind. Forget it.