Mics office “God damn it Sho.. god fucking damn it.”

Mic was in his office, taking a few deep breaths, his voice was strained and breaking. He was almost breaking down, his cheeks were reddening as his eyes became glassy with his salty tears, threatening to pour out. His hand was on his face, gripping his cheek to calm himself but nothing. He looks to his desk: filled with English papers he needs to grade, pencils, materials, and his directional speaker collar. Then he feels a stray tear leave his eye and then he quickly wipes it away with his shaky hand “Damn it, Mic.. why would you even let yourself get so weak. Men don’t cry. You pathetic wasteful man.” he mutters, his voice still strained.. he’s been forced on being a man and not crying on the mindset by his father, who would just let him feel weak for crying. It was unhealthy, yes. What else could he do? He can’t just cry and expect sympathy from anyone, can he?