#argument tw

Imagine an argument breaking out between you and your f/o. It gets heated, the conversation being heavier than anything either of you had experienced. Emotions blister and burn, uncertain of who and what to launch themselves at as you both bicker. Then, finally, an admission falls from your f/o’s lips.

Perhaps they tell you that, truthfully, they’ve been chasing happiness but don’t know what happiness even is. They’re so afraid of hurting you, the person they know they love, that they try to hide their abnormalities. They don’t know what they’re doing. They don’t know how to be someone you could love. But they want to be loved and give love. They want a happy ending like the fairytales describe, but how do they even get there?

Perhaps they break down into tears, shrinking into themself as they say they just don’t know anymore. Everything is both so big and scary yet also so beautiful and whimsical. Their childhood wasn’t good. Their childhood left scars they don’t want to admit are etched into their soul. Yet they tell you in the best detail they can manage. They trust you with their insecurities, they just don’t know how to convey them or express their needs.

Perhaps they shift away from you, unable to look even in your general direction, and quietly explain what gnaws at them. How their past clings to them like an ugly burr and they tried ripping it out once, only for blood to splatter onto the ground. How they don’t want to replicate what they’ve done nor what has happened to them. They don’t want to fight with you, but that defense mechanism has yet to die.

Perhaps they slump into themself, muttering a weak, “sorry,” as they search their brain for something to say. They don’t know how to respond immediately. There are so many words in their head, but none of them leave their mouth. All they want is to tell you what is crushing them and causing their emotions to be unstable, but all that gets out is a dismissal. They leave you standing there, but they eventually give you a note. It’s scribbly and tearstained, but everything rushes out onto the page.

Sometimes, not everything is going to be our definition of perfect. There will be an argument that stings, words that eat at your heart, and moments that make you question. Yet nothing is unfixable. Remember to talk to your f/o and vent your emotions to each other healthily. If you aren’t able to maintain a healthy balance of emotional weight, try talking outside of them and see if that helps take off some of the pressure. One fight isn’t going to end your love, but being unable to express yourself will.

“Are you kidding right now? You know better than that. Should’ve called me first. I got you, remember?” I gently nudged his clothed arm as soon as we parted, walking towards my apartment.

“Didn’t wanna bother you again.” Stephen shrugged behind me as I entered my apartment.

“This shit bothers me, Stephen. You can’t keep burning yourself out. These cases might be very important, but there’s no use in helping out if you’re not even taking care of yourself. It’s unfair to everyone involved.” I genuinely worried for him.

“It doesn’t matter how I feel.” Stephen palmed his chest while answering back, showing frustration. “Justice is our goal, okay?”

“I know that justice matters.” I lowered my voice.

“Then why the hell do you care so much about my wellbeing? I'm fine.” Stephen lied once more, watching me as another round of exhaustion circled over his perfect hazel eyes.

“Stephen, if you don’t fix the problems now, there’s only a matter of time before things get much worse.” Enough was enough. Before long, I’d taken off these heels and picked my cell phone back up before moving away from him.

“I’m sorry.” He struggled, not even allowing himself to hang that sweatshirt on the coat rack like many times before.

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to yourself if things don’t improve. Help yourself now before it’s too late. I stood my ground.

“That’s fair. Food wouldn't be so bad to start, actually.” Stephen looked towards me for a moment and pocketed his hands once more, standing in the living room without joining me in the kitchen.

“Good, but do you mind if I order pizza?” I held my phone up.

“Veggies and sausage split in halves for both of us?” Stephen recalled one “meal” that we ordered for delivery here.

“Yep. w..wait? You remembered my order?” I narrowed my eyes, amused and surprised all at the same time.

In that moment, he stepped closer and leveled his eyes with me while standing across from this living room sofa. Suddenly, my heart raced once more.

“I remember everything.” His voice somehow bridged between this growl and whisper as he took my hand to help me stand up from the couch. Even my phone fell onto these cushions.

“Why did you come back like this? Tell me the truth.” I asked. He released my hand, but his touch lingered in quite a subtle way by now.

“I missed this place, but I didn’t wanna scare you.” He said, talking close enough to me where our noses could finally brush together.

“You’re always welcome here. I told you that before.” I promised.

“I’m not perfect and I really don’t wanna rush into somethin’ you might not even want, but…” He hesitated, but the worry in his voice continued. “God…”

“What?” My brow furrowed against his own forehead.

Seconds later, he opened space between us just to place his finger onto my lips. Despite this nearly stoic expression on his face, I knew his heart clamored as much as mine had now.

“Look at me.” His voice lowered, toned with simmering dominance as we faced each other here in the living room.

“What?” Even as his daring finger still touched my slightly lips, I matched this energy, eyeing him with one searing gaze.

“I’ll always be here, girl, whatever that means to you.” His finger curved away from my lips as he stepped backwards, took off his sweatshirt, and finally hung it up on the coat rack.

“Hey,” It wasn’t long before I called back towards Stephen as he turned away from the coat rack now.

“Yeah?” He peeked over his shoulder, but folded his perfectly tattooed arms while facing me in return.

“Thank you. Your speech was hot, too.” I winked.

“Appreciate the compliment, but that wasn’t even my best shot.” He joked right back and walked towards me again.

“Is that right?” I titled my head, intrigued of course. “What should I do to see that performance play out?”

“Give me consent. ” His simple but extremely important words left me shocked and I couldn’t help smiling.

“Someday.” I bit my lip once more and arched one brow before picking up my cell phone to order our pizza.

_______

“Wait a minute, you use to hotbox in the car?” He laughed out loud, almost forgetting to eat slices of pizza

“It was the best place to go without getting in trouble. Nobody could smoke on campus, so we drove miles away for a reason…” I shrugged, eating at the kitchen table once again and telling Stephen another memory from college.

“You still light up?” Stephen took another sip of his drink on the table.

“Rarely nowadays. Got too much shit going on at work to be fucked up like that again.” I shook my head.

“That’s fair. What did you study, psychology? Seems to me like you’re pretty invested in people.” He joked once more, prompting me to roll my eyes across the table.

“No, actually. Went to school for Business and the company I work for now helps people find jobs.” I smiled, proud.

“You’re a saint.” Stephen gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes again.

“That’s a stretch, but thanks.” I nodded.

“No, for real. It’s a miracle that you’re willing to work with people on a regular basis.” Stephen continued.

“Some days are better than others, but it’s worth it.” I affirmed.

“Same goes for the police department. We might work our asses off to make it out alive, but like I said, justice makes it all worth every bit of the bullshit.” Stephen offered his own experience, nearly matching my words too.

“Good point.” I validated him, standing up from the table and reaching out to gather our plates. Even the pizza box still had a few slices for leftovers.

“Uh-uh. I might be exhausted right now, but let me do this.” Stephen almost held his hand over mine as we stood up at this table.

“Do what?” I laughed to myself, but felt genuinely confused by his words this time around.

“If nothing else, Dana, let me help you.” When my name fell from his lips as I nearly trembled from within, knowing that the comment silently meant so much more.

“Fine, Stephen. What should I do while you clean up the kitchen?” I agreed.

“Take a shower, okay? I’ll be out here when you’re done.” Stephen answered back, still focused on his idea to help me out

“Is that just another way to flirt, Holder? Most guys would’ve already asked to join me in the shower.” I messed with him, already walking away from him as Stephen cleaned up the table.

“You haven’t asked. It’s rude to visit places uninvited, D.” Stephen pouted his lips, but made quite a good point here. Barging in was never cool.

    She woke up in the middle of the night, hanging halfway off her bed. It was very dark, the only light filtering in through the window. She got up and laid back down, only to sit up less than a minute later.

    It was cold, her breath fogging in the air. She reached for the lamp and turned it on, letting out a tiny hiss as her eyes adjusted to the light. She looked around her room. Everything seemed a bit wrong, having been cleaned before she went to bed. 

    The familiar piles of clothes were thrown into a basket, the chair that was usually in the center of the room neatly pushed under the desk where her laptop sat. Her nightstand was cluttered, still. Or rather already.

    She got up and pulled her chair out, sitting at the desk and opening the laptop. She quickly typed in her password, rubbing her eyes immediately after. A youtube tab was open, paused, showing the playlist she’d thrown together to clean her room. 

    Hitting play, she sat back and looked around. It was nearly two in the morning, and she was wide awake. Her eyes landed on a bit of movement close to her door. She jumped, nearly falling out of her chair.

    Whatever had moved was gone, but her heart continued pounding in her ears. She drew her legs up, sitting on her feet, and paused the music. She could hear a faint scratching sound somewhere to her left.

    “It’s probably just a mouse…” At her words the scratching paused before becoming more frantic, as if whatever was there was absolutely terrified of her. She laughed a bit, putting a hand to her chest, where her heart was still beating rapidly.

    She got up and approached the sound of the scratching. A tiny shape darted out from under her bed and squeezed itself under her door. She opened her door quietly and peered into the hall. There was no sign of the mouse.

    “Huh…” She walked into the kitchen and turned on the light before reaching and getting a glass out of the cabinet. She slowly filled it with water, trying to keep quiet. She took the water into her room and nearly dropped it.

    Sitting in her chair was a transparent, glittering, almost blue-green cat. It had blotches of darker, lighter, and brighter coloring, as if it was some sort of spectral calico kitty from god knew where. In its mouth was the mouse, squeaking frantically, nearly dead.

    She stared before slowly putting her water down and closing her eyes. “When I open my eyes again, this thing will be gone and so will its snack.” She opened her eyes.

    The cat wasn’t gone, and was staring at her with bright interest. It dropped the now deceased mouse and hopped off the chair, walking to her and rubbing against her leg.

    She nearly screamed. The cat brushing against her leg felt cool, more like a cold patch of air. There was no resistance as she tried to nudge the cat away from her. It looked up, meowing at her. There was no sound.

    “You’re just a figment of my imagination.” The figment of her imagination meowed at her again. She grabbed her water and moved to her chair, giving the cat a wide berth. She collapsed into the chair, having forgotten about the mouse, until she was forced to remember by sitting on it.

    She jumped back up, looking in her chair. The mouse lay there, unmoving, looking almost pitiful. She looked at the cat. The cat stared back. She grabbed the mouse and slung it into the trash, hoping that she’d remember it in the morning. 

    “Jesus fucking christ… can you get out of my room?” She asked, looking back at the cat. The cat was gone, as if it’d never been there at all. She closed her door and her laptop before turning off the lamp. “That’s what I get for going to bed early, I guess.” She curled up on her bed, trying to ignore the memory of the cat.

    The next time she woke up, daylight was just beginning to creep into her room. She got up and stretched before heading into the kitchen to make coffee. As she did her phone rang. She yawned and answered.

    “Hey, Lizzie. Thought I’d check up on you,” her friend immediately said.

    “Hi Tom. I’m ok. Just making coffee.” I put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter.

    “I still can’t believe you drink the devil’s bean juice.”

    “What? It keeps me awake.”

    “I guess. Hey, I had the weirdest dream last night…”

    “Yeah, me too.”

    “All I remember now is watching you walking somewhere. Following this… cat?”

    “What?”

    “Yeah… it looked like a calico but a bunch of shades of blue.”

    “Tom…”

    “What?”

    “That cat was in my room last night.”

    “Really?”

    “Yeah. 

    “Freaky.”

    “No kidding.”

    “Want me to come over there today?”

    “Maybe when I’m awake.”

    There was a knock on her door. She answered it, and there stood Thomas, grinning obnoxiously. SHe walked back into the kitchen, leaving the door open. “Rude,” He said, walking in after her.

    “Yeah.” She looked down at her pajamas before hanging up the call. 

    Thomas followed her in, leaning against the counter, watching her start the coffee brewing. “So, how are you actually doing?”

    “I slept horribly. Aside from that I’m not looking forward to doing any school shit.”

    “Yeah, I feel you there. I still have a paper to write…”

    “Then why come over? I’m glad you’re here, I’m just curious.”

    “I’m bored of class.” 

    “Already? It’s only… 8 in the morning.”

    “Bold of you to assume I slept.”

    “But- You said the dream you had?”

    “That was yesterday afternnon, if I’m being honest.”

    “So… You’ve been up all night?”

    “Basically.”

    “I think you need the devil’s bean juice more than I do.”

    “Never.”

    “Fine. How’d you call right after I woke up?”

    “Magic.”

    “Uh huh. Ok then.”

    “I don’t know, just lucky.” He reached towards her and she realized she hadn’t showered in… how many days now?

    “Uh…”

    He tugged on her braid lightly. “Go take a shower, I’ll make you breakfast.” He got up and headed into the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

    “Tom?!”

    “Go ahead!”

    She sighed and went into her room, getting a towel and a change of clothes. She could hear Thomas in the kitchen as she walked into the bathroom and locked the door. 

    When she got out, Thomas was still in the kitchen. She wiped off the mirror and brushed her hair, wincing at the tangles, before drying it with the hairdryer. She brushed it again and dried off before getting dressed in a hoodie and jeans. She hung the towel up and took her dirty clothes to her room.

    Thomas was in the kitchen, singing Counting Stars. She stopped, listening, before going into the room. 

    “Oh, there you are,” he said, holding out a plate of pancakes. 

    “Yeah.” She took them and sat down.

    He casually braided her hair as she ate, braiding it and unbraiding it. It felt nice having him play with her hair, not that she’d ever admit it. He took her plate when she was done eating, despite her protests. “I got it, Lizzie. Consider this a rest day.”

    “Uh… Ok.” She walked in the living room and sat down, checking her phone. There was a text from her father, saying he paid the bills and he was staying with his girlfriend for at least the next week. 

    “Anything interesting?”

    “Huh? Oh, no, just my dad. I guess I’m watching the house for a few days.”

    “Sounds like fun. Can I stay a night?”

    She looked at him. “I love you, but hell no.”

    He put his hand over his heart, feigning shock. “You love me?”

    She snorted. “Yeah, you’ve been my best friend since I moved into this godforsaken house. Of course I love you.”

    “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

    “Don’t get used to it.”

    “Oh?”

    “You heard me.”

    He reached over and tugged on her braid. 

    “Stop it.”

    “Why, you like it?”

    She pulled away from him, glaring.

    “I’ll take that as a yes.”

    “Why are you really here?”

    “I missed you.”

    “Thomas…”

    “Oh, pulling out a full name, Elizabeth?”

    “Stop it.”

    “Teasing you is fun.”

    She stood up, backing away from him a bit.

    “Alright, I’ll stop. I’m sorry, Lizzie.”

    “Please… just get out.”

    “Lizzie, I said I’m sorry!”

    “I’ll let you know when I want you around me again.”

    “Lizzie-”

    She shoved him out the front door, flinching slightly as the door slammed. She might have been overreacting, but she was alone in the house. If Thomas tried anything, she would be completely defenseless. She locked the door.

    Her phone rang and she silenced it. 

    Outside, Thomas was sitting on the porch, trying to call Elizabeth. She wouldn’t answer, instead, she went into the living room and sat on the couch again.

    When she looked in the kitchen, the cat was back, laying in a patch of sunlight, nearly transparent. She stared at it for a while. This time it didn’t scare her, instead, the cat felt more like a friend.

    Her phone lit up with a text from Thomas: Be careful.

    She ignored it, watching the cat sun itself. It was laying on its side, its tail tip curling and uncurling. She yawned quietly. The cat’s ears perked up and it lifted its head before trotting over.

    It brushed against her hand, feeling cold, but there was still nothing, no actual contact. She sat up and the cat curled up on her lap. She felt the slightest bit of pressure on her legs, as if the cat weighed barely anything. 

    Outside, clouds were gathering as Thomas walked to the park. He looked up at the sky in time to trip over a wide crack in the road. He landed sprawled on his stomach, his breath knocked out of him, and could barely sit up. 

    His hands were scraped lightly, along with his chin. He licked the blood trailing from the cut on his lip, standing carefully. He made his way towards one of the benches and collapsed onto it, trying to get his breath back. He had just been walking, if he’d been running and tripped he’d probably have gotten at least a few more scrapes.

    Elizabeth watched the cat curiously. It was seemingly asleep again, relaxed on her lap. She undid the braid in her hair, combing it with her fingers. The cat stirred slightly before opening its eyes and meowing at her.

    She started humming and the cat jumped down from her lap. “What, is it that bad?” 

    The cat walked in the kitchen. She got up and followed curiously. The cat was gone. 

    At the park, it started to rain. Thomas moved, sitting in the middle of one of the shelters. Scratched into the wooden table were multiple phone numbers, hearts, and random drawings. 

    Thomas shivered, looking out. The blood on his hands was dry when he looked at the scrapes. He ran his fingers through his hair before pulling his jacket tighter around him. The rain fell much faster, the drops getting heavier as the time went on.

    The longer he sat there, the colder it seemed to become, until it felt like it shouldn’t be raining but snowing instead. His phone rang.

    Elizabeth held her phone to her ear, waiting to see if Thomas would answer.

    “Lizzie?” He asked as soon as he picked up.

    “Where are you?”

    “I’m at the park.”

    “I’ll be there soon.” She hung up and put on shoes before grabbing an umbrella. 

    A minute later she was walking to the park, the umbrella open above her. She walked quickly, making the trip in barely ten minutes. 

    Thomas was sitting where he’d sat down earlier. He looked up, surprised to see her after what had happed earlier. He nearly ran to her, but at that moment the rain was falling even more heavily. 

    She walked up to the shelter, stepping out of the rain for a moment. “Come on, it’s getting colder.”

    He approached her, blinking, as she offered the umbrella. He stepped under it before she started walking towards the road again, him walking close by. “Thank you…”

    “Just remember that I’ll throw you back out if you touch me again.”

    “I… Alright”

    They walked slower, approaching Elizabeth’s house. She unlocked the door and nodded for him to go inside.