Fern stares down at the floor, pulling his knees to his chest so that he can hug them. The fight still has him torn up, feeling raw, and the flu symptoms aren't letting him get out and destroy something to feel better. It's like he wants to explode, but he's too tired to manage it.

"You're wrong. He doesn't care. I thought he did, but...." He drops his forehead to his knees, making a frustrated noise. "Right after I died he went and told someone I hate. He didn't tell anyone I actually care about. You only found out because he didn't ignore your call."