Communication Skills .✦ ݁˖
↪ summary: y/n has always lacked certain communication skills when it comes down to her feelings and martin realizes that.
↪ disclaimers!: angst | fluff |
❦ a/n: hello hello! look at me posting again so soon. but i loved writing this one cause i am y/n and she is me. gulp.... and i also just realized i've written stuff for martin and james but none of the other members, so i'll get to them next. i know the song doesnt rly match but its for the vibe trust. have a great day!
The day had started badly. Then it continued to remain bad. By the time you found yourself standing outside Martin’s apartment, wallet in one hand and phone clutched in the other, you seriously considered not walking inside.
Everything had gone wrong.
You’d overslept after barely sleeping the night before. Coffee had spilled all over your favorite sweater before you had even left your apartment. A meeting you’d spent days preparing for had ended with your supervisor politely dismissing every idea you had. Your mom had called halfway through lunch just to remind you that you "needed to start taking life more seriously."
By four o’clock you ignored people’s texts and by six o’clock you had a bad headache.
You were standing outside Martin’s door wondering if you should have gone home. You didn’t want him to see you like this. He had a big meeting with his manager earlier and it was extremely successful. And you didn't want to rain on his parade. But you had promised him that you’d stop by.
So you pasted on the best smile you could manage before knocking.
The door swung open almost immediately.
Martin smiled the second he saw you, leaning down to kiss your forehead.
His apartment smelled like garlic and white sauce.
"I made your favorite, alfredo pasta."
At least for a little while.
You answered everything in one-word responses.
Martin frowned slightly. Normally you’d tell stories while you ate. Ramble about something funny you saw on the streets or complain about one of your co-workers.
Tonight though, you had nothing. He caught you staring at the wall more than once.
You tore your gaze away from the wall, blinking at Martin.
“You seem really quiet today?”
That should have been enough to explain your bad mood, but it didn't.
After dinner you helped him with the dishes without speaking.
When he put on a movie that you wanted to watch for weeks, you barely looked at the screen, more zoned out than ever.
You sat further away from him on the cough, knees tucked to your chest. Martin noticed that you hadn't touched him once. Usually you had stolen his blanket by now or curled up into his side.
Tonight, it looked like you were trying to disappear into the couch.
“Did I do something wrong?”
You turned your head towards him.
"You've barely looked at me all night."
"No, you didn't do anything."
The silence only got heavier. Martin should have listened to his gut feeling telling him to let your mood pass over but he chose to listen to the nagging worry in his heart.
He muted the TV and turned fully towards you.
"If something's bothering you, you can tell me."
"It doesn't seem like nothing."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"You've paid more attention to your phone than you have to me."
You hadn't even realized that you’d been scrolling the same page for almost fifteen minutes.
"You don't have to apologize."
"I don't know what's happening."
"It feels like something is."
Martin let out a slow breath.
"Please just talk to me."
Something inside you finally snapped.
"I said I'm fine, Martin!"
The room went completely still.
Your voice echoed louder than you had intended.
"I don't know why you keep asking!" you continued, frustration bubbling over. "Can you just leave it alone for five minutes? Can’t you just leave me alone for five minutes?"
His expression shifted from concern to hurt.
“I’m sorry, I wasn't trying to bother you, I was just worried.”
"Then why are you yelling at me?"
"Because you won't stop!"
A painfully heavy silence settled instantly.
“I’ll leave you alone now, give you space. But it’s late out and I don’t want you going home in the dark, so please stay in the guest room.”
He grabbed his keys from the counter.
But he was already pulling on his shoes.
The door clicked shut behind him.
The second you heard it close...
You hadn't been angry at him.
You had spent the entire day trying not to let your awful mood affect him.
You had done exactly that.
Martin wandered the neighborhood for nearly an hour.
He replayed the evening over and over.
But you hadn't given him anything.
You looked miserable from the second you walked in.
When he came home later, the apartment was dark except for a light under the guest room’s door. He sighed softly, glad you had at least stayed. There was a sticky note sitting on the coffee table.
The next morning, Martin woke to the smell of coffee. He found you sitting at the counter with two mugs of coffee. You looked terrible, dark circles sitting under your eyes.
When you noticed him, you stood up.
"I need to say this before I chicken out."
Martin stayed where he was.
You twisted the sleeve of your sweatshirt around your fingers.
"I had the worst day yesterday."
"I didn't tell you because..."
You laughed softly. "It sounds stupid now."
"I didn't want to ruin your day."
"You were so happy yesterday morning."
You diverted your gaze to the floor now.
"You said your meeting went well."
"So why would I dump all my problems on you?"
"...Because that's what couples do."
"I didn't want you worrying."
He spoke gently. “So instead you tried pushing me away?”
“Yea, I guess I did.”
Martin leaned against the counter.
"I kept asking because I thought you were upset with me."
Your eyes filled with tears.
"I thought if I just kept it to myself..."
"...I'd have a better evening?"
He let out the smallest, most disbelieving laugh.
"You know what would've made my evening better?"
"You telling me you'd had a terrible day."
"I don't expect you to be happy every time I see you."
"I'd rather have you crying on my shoulder than sitting three feet away pretending everything's okay."
"I don't know how to do that."
It was the first time you’d admitted it out loud.
You gestured helplessly. "I’ve never been good at talking about my bad feelings."
Martin reached for your hand.
"Then we'll figure it out."
He squeezed your fingers.
You already knew what he was going to say.
"...don't bottle it up until you accidentally yell at me?"
Despite yourself, you laughed.
You stepped into his arms first this time.
He wrapped his arms around you immediately.
You buried your face into his chest.
He rested his chin on top of your head.
"You could never ruin my day by telling me the truth."
You smiled, a sudden rush of warmth traveling through you, and for the first time since yesterday morning, you felt lighter.
