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It’s not logical or reasonable. It doesn’t need some catastrophic tragedy to turn the chemicals of his brain against him. Tiny tragedies are more than enough.
He can’t help but picture little Dev, also watching Ever After past his bedtime, and all at once, he’s not mad at Dev at all. He’s just sad for him, for the little kid who fell in love with love stories where no one looked like him, no one thought like him, no one loved like him.
