Despair In The Apartment Lounge

55| No.1 Party Anthem

Song title from:
No.1 Party Anthem

3 MONTHS AFTER
Kid's birth

The two stood amongst the shattered glass scattered around the kitchen. If they were to step nearer to one another, there would be countless sharp blades puncturing their feet. The shimmering pieces were a reminder somehow, for at the moment at least- if these two were to return to each other, it would bring nothing else but pain and a long process of healing their scathed soles.

With the same ragged breathing as his partner, he leaned his hand atop the marble counter and stared at the obscured reflection of his own. Turning the faucet and running a hand under it before bringing the water into his unkempt hair. Behind him, a distance away, his partner leaned her back on the island. Long and slender fingers covering her face; ashamed of the mess he had made her make.

Sometimes she felt as if she gaslighted herself into thinking that it was all in her head, that all her envious thoughts were formed from that only; envy. But then she would return to the conclusion that he was at fault. Not her.

He jumped in shock, not expecting to hear another two or three sets of plates to be smashed on the ground again, a frustrated shriek following behind him.

This scene is rare for them, believe it or not. Only having happened under a handful of times during their relationship and marriage, but it was a scene that they had grown to learn the pattern of.

A mistake or miscommunication of some sort would ignite a spark of argument; then someone (more so usually her) would pour a glass of wine for the two; then, decently under influence, the argument would be stringed to bigger unresolved matters; then finally, the tiring sequence would be wrapped up with all hell breaking loose. Usually, it was the wine bottle that caught the grounds surface first, splattering the floor with whatever color it was in that time. On cue, other variants of glass and objects came flying by afterwards. Never intended to actually hit the people throwing them, only to channel their frustration and anger onto the breaking of replaceable objects. Albeit, there was an instance where one of them was accidentally cut on the cheek- enough for the two to stop and make up entirely at the recognition of blood.

The first time a fight like this had happened, they were only in the first months of their relationship, and Alex, whom was terrified to hurt another partner the way he had once Talaska, immediately ended the relationship after throwing a mug against a wall himself in a haze of rage. Watching him shake his head and continuously go on about how they were done, Louise's red and infuriated façade dropped into a pleading one. Blocking the door from letting him leave her Paris apartment.

These types of fights were rare for the two, both believing that the happy moments they shared/share together overthrow the bad ones. But after every fight- there was always an undeniable feeling on how there'd be another similar one sooner or later.

Similar to how they would sweep away the glass debris, they swept away the feeling as well.

This time, the spark was commenced with Alex inquiring Louise on whether she was going to take up Talaska's offer to cook with Breana. His simple question was met with a snarky comment, rupturing a whole dam allowing even more snarky comments to come out of.

"Where the fuck's all of this coming from?! 'You don't spend time with me anymore. You're always somewhere off with the guys and Tal.' What???"

A sharp hand sprung up accusingly before continuing. "You're the one hardly ever home! Know what? Sometimes you make everything bout yourself, it's bloody fucking exhausting!"