His attention and care was certainly not on work. It rarely was. And if anyone expected this of him, he would immediately tell them to fuck off. His patience for work bullshit and falsity at this point was zero and he communicated this to any and all offenders without hesitation.
His attention, currently, was entirely on his broken heart. He must focus on gathering up these broken fucking pieces from all over the gawd damn floor. How was he going to fix this shit again, man?
As a child, one imagines the intensity of feelings fade, but they don’t and they only get more complicated. He was angry about this realization and despite having tools to calm himself, he refused to use them. He wanted this anger to wash over him and claim him until he was no longer himself. He was wild once, he could be unhinged again, and gladly.