[ regret. it's plain in the stoic lines of sasuke's face, even though the curious little screen laurent observes him through. he tries to imagine killing auguste, even tries to imagine killing his uncle, and finds his stomach turning at the thought.

it's easier, now, to allow the barbs back out. laurent feels backed into a corner, overly exposed, sasuke's eyes pools of unpredictable color. ]

You don't understand because you have not been fucked by your family. You only thought you were. [ he doesn't know the details. he only knows that sasuke would have let his brother live if he'd known the real truth. so what are you going to do? the question opens a pit of doubt, so deep that laurent feels dangerously close to falling into an endless hole of black. it's the same question he asks himself dozens of times a day.

his gaze swings up, cold fire, at the name. ]

That's enough, stop. [ his rage is dizzying; he nearly sees red. something touches his side, and he realizes maru has moved, standing with her head poking his ribs. ] What do you think you know? Because you've spent your life wishing to suck Naruto's cock, you think I have someone I've been pining over as well? Does that suit your narrative better to make you feel less pathetic?