#angsty...

Should have, would have. there was little else to say. Obito crimes were done, and what sins he commited were out in the open.

((character limits shall not hold meeeeeee!))

Johnny hated this. War he could deal with. Armed insurgents, hidden IEDs, wounded men, flying bullets- those were all things he was comfortable with, even used to. He’d take a trek through the desert in full pack any day over a walk to the fridge right now in his home flat.

He’d been playing the fight he and Enola had had over and over and over in his head- at this point, it didn’t even make sense to him anymore. He couldn’t even remember what they were fighting about. He could just feel the pain and anger eating away at him like the empty space he was staring at on the bed. 

He felt awful. He felt like his father. He’d been lucky, keeping himself controlled, making sure not to raise a hand to anything but a mirror when he’d gotten to his very worst, but he still hated himself. He deserved every cut, ever shard of glass that had been forced into his hand, every moment now he’d had to sit alone with his tears and his shame.

Johnny sighed at the door, looking at Enola curled on the couch. He didn’t blame her for choosing to be away from him, or demanding he clean things up, but now she was just trying to sleep on an uncomfortable, small couch instead of their bed. Now it was just his wife displaced form where she should be, warm and safe and loved in her bed and in his arms, being held and kissed and doted on.

"Enola…" He called softly, hanging his head and coming to kneel by the couch, his bandaged hand moving to pet her hair gently, carefully, slowly so she could pull away. "Enola, love, I’m sorry. Please go to bed."

The fight had been over something so small. She couldn't even remember what it was at this point. It had escalated so quickly she couldn't quite figure out what had happened. Maybe they had rushed into this whole marriage thing. It was too soon, and she had noticed his anger was worse after he had returned. They should have worked things out better before living together.

She realized she was lucky that he had been able to control his temper. She wasn't quite sure if she would have even stayed in the flat if he had layed a hand on her. There was no way she was planning on cleaning up the mirror he had broken. She couldn't be close to him until he was calm. She was terrified she would set him off again.

Things had been different when they were younger before he had gone to war. Something about being in the army had changed him. And it wasn't completely in the best way. Sure, he had grown up and gotten away from his parents. But whatever he had experienced had caused his anger to worsen.

Currently she was curled up on the couch with her arms wrapped around herself. Her back was to the room, not really wanting to look around at the moment. She wasn't crying anymore, but sleep wasn't exactly coming easily.

And I'm watching the first episode...