monazalea-writes¡:
Selene was tempted to not answer â act as though she wasnât even home. He had a key to the apartment though and that meant he could have come in anytime he felt the need. The question about getting his things was the one that made her unlock the door, reddened eyes meeting his once she opened it. âIâm sorry,â The apology came out in a whisper. She kept her hands at her sides and let him come in, gaze dropping to her feet once the door shut behind him. âI didnât touch anything of yours.â Selene murmured. She would have asked to sit and talk civilly but he appeared to have made up his mind.
He tore his eyes away from hers, feeling his resolve weaken with every passing second. Fitz wasnât here to talk. Their talks lately had manifested into arguments. Arguments would turn into heated slandering until the moment would pass Fitz where he couldnât recall what had started the argument in the first place.Â
He slipped past her quietly, trudging into the master bedroom to grab a gym bag and stuff it full of the necessary items: boxers, t-shirts, jeans. He didnât know where heâd go. Fitz wasnât a socialite like his own parents and his ego kept him from accepting their money on every occasion. He was a struggling artist by his own choices but he felt that they kept him real, kept him raw. He exited the room and met Selene back in the hallway. âI donât know what Iâm gonna do about the rest of it,â he sighs, âJust give me some more time, yeah? Donât throw anything anyway.â He smiles half-heartedly, âWell, I donât really care about the clothes but just not-- not the photos or prints.â
