#threatened dislocation

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The door opens and whumper is already waiting with their arms crossed, eyes brimming with anger, “You’re late,” they grit out.

“No shit” whumpee responds, closing the door behind them and putting their bag down.

Silence, “Are you going to tell me why?”

Whumpee furrows their brows, “Well you didn’t phrase it as a question.”

Whumper takes a step forward and whumpee responds with a half step back, “Why the hell were you late?” Their voice was as sharp as glass and burned like a sudden cut.

“I’m back now so what does it matter,” they brush off, trying to push past whumper.

But whumper grips their arm tight, pulling them back to glare at them. Whumpee’s breath hitches slightly and they can feel their arm threatening to go limp under their grasp. They have to clear their throat before speaking again, “I just had to catch up on some work I missed. Remember all those off days you made me take? I had to make it all up.”

“Three hours worth?”

Something inside whumpee whipped around in frustration, maybe it was the exhaustion, but they heard themselves saying: “A lot more actually. And tomorrow I’ll have to get in early to finish the rest of it. You see in the real world, the one outside of these fucking walls, shit like that has consequences-“

A slap rang out in the room. Whumpee’s cheek burned as tears stung their eyes and throat, the one still tracing the words they had pent up in their mind, caught up in itself yet nowhere at all from the surprise of the blow. And before they could think their hand clutched into a fist and their knuckles collided with whumper’s face.

It was a wide swing and it hurt like hell, but as they watched whumper groan, shuffling on their heel to hold their face, they knew they weren't the only one in pain.

A few silent seconds past. The air seemed to still around whumpee and strangle their heart, like a frozen painting in real time. Just enough time between the strokes for the situation to settle in their mind. They weren't taking it back. Even if they did it's not like it would change anything.

The look in whumper’s eyes told them that. They glared at them from above their fingers, a vein flickering on the side of their head like a warning. And whumpee just stood like a deer in headlights.

The next few moments blurred in a mix of anger and swings. Whumper ended up with a purplish bruise on their face and a bloody nose. And whumpee, like usual, ended up on the floor, curling over their stomach as Whumper kicked them again.

They groaned, a cry slipping past their lips as they grimaced in pain. Whumpee flinched as whumper’s foot lifted again, their shoulder blades hitting the door with a thud, the arms around their stomach coming up to shield their head instead.

But no kick came. Whumper hauled them off the ground by their shirt and whumpee’s feet shuffled to follow the motion. Their vision blurred as they were spun around and their face was suddenly shoved against the door, “You wanna rethink your earlier statement?” whumper grit in their ear, making them flinch again.

Whumpee was panting. Tears painted the portrait now, their sternum ached from suddenly being stretched upright and they were unable to take in a full breath. They clawed at the hands pinning them, they couldn't speak past the lump in their throat.

Whumpee’s arm was twisted and pinned behind their back. They let out a cry as whumper continued to push their wrist up, going further with each passing second until whumpee didn't have a choice, “O-okay! M’ sorry I'm sorry, stop!”

With a shove whumper let them collapse to the ground. They quickly pulled their arm to cradle it, hissing through their teeth. They sighed as they watched whumper walk away, muscles pinching with the action, only for that breath to catch in their chest at what whumper said next:

“Call your boss, you won't be going to work tomorrow.”