Miguel's blood boiled with a rushing lava of anger under his skin, but the funniest part was that this anger was directed towards himself; he wasn't upset at Fedora, not even one beat.
He didn't blame the boy either, because he knew fully well that he wouldn't let someone he just met treat someone he holds dear to his life with attitude without snapping.
The realization that the crash-out of Fedora was totally valid weighed Miguel's heart with a stinging guilt and sadness, a heavy, sinking anchor in his chest.
"Are we leaving or not?!" Fedora almost yelled out his lungs, a shrieking sound that was able to scatter Miguel's thoughts and send the man into an unprepared, subtle startle.
Miguel watched as the boy slumped back into the leather seat, his arms folding tightly across his chest as he avoided eye contact by all means, staring out at nothing with a jagged intensity.
Miguel let out a deep sigh and with that, he gently shut the door with a soft, precise thud.
