.𝗟𝘂𝗰𝗶𝗱. 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚́𝙚 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙩

• bags

" i don't wanna talk to you anymore
all these little games"

- 𝙗𝙖𝙜𝙨, 𝙗𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙖𝙣

___________________________________

• two years and nine months before potential •

When i got home from working a long shift at the small cafe i had been working at i was exhausted. I wanted to crawl into bed and let my eyes shut softly.

When i entered my apartment I wasn't expecting Luca to be passed out on the couch. I took in the surrounding of the few empty beer bottles and the stale smell that rushed up my nose when i got closer to him. I rolled my eyes and kicked the couch with enough force to wake him up. He shot up and looked around until he locked eyes with me and groaned.

"what the fuck was that for" he groaned out before turning the other way into the couch.

"wanted to make sure you were still alive" He got up and moved over, pulled out a wine bottle and poured it generously into a deep class. He walked over and offered it to me "nah it's only three in the afternoon" he pushed it at me.

"you'll be fine, just take it" I felt forced to accept the deep red class. I've regretted that ever since as it spiralled into something more. "you wanna watch some tv" I shook my head to refuse. I knew he had been sitting and watching all day and i didn't want to encourage it.

"How's the job hunt going?" I asked. He groaned and looked at me with so much disgust.

"why do you always have to bring it up, i have it sorted, okay?" I nodded my head and sipped my wine in silence. I realised what i was doing and pulled back immediately. He had been camped out on my couch for weeks mooching off me and i was sick of it. He needed a job.

"do you, though" I said which caused Luca to slam his beer against the table and stand up with fury painted on his face.

"what's that supposed to mean" I rolled my eyes and put my own glass down but much softer than his.

"you've been glued to my couch for weeks and saying that you have "it sorted" but you don't okay. you need to get a job" Luca scoffed and then death glared me.

"yeah i will" He said before raising and dropping his shoulders.

"then go do it. cause i know that you haven't even looked for two months" He was getting riled up and for some reason i found enjoyment in how mad he gets all the time.

"you can't talk, you work in a fucking cafe" he spat bitterly. i cocked my head at his rudeness and shook my head slightly.

"at least i have an income, and let me remind you that you currently live off it" He rolled his eyes again and hovered over me to try and act intimidating.

"if you don't want me here just say it" He got up in my face and his face contorted into anger. In that moment i was scared for the first time in our relationship.

"get out."

"gladly" I saw him zoom around my apartment packing all his things in random bags. I didn't move from the couch i just watched from a safe distance. As he got to the door with all his bags in hand he looked back at me and said "you're not any better then me, you're worse. just a pathetic washed up dream" His words stung deep and i felt my stomach drop. Luca had his moments but this was a different level of tantrum. lately we hadn't been able to talk without fighting and this was another example of this.

As he walked out the door with his bags i took that as the sign that we had broken up. I didn't expect that brief breakup to only last four hours before Luca came crawling back to me and apologised for what he had said. I stupidly forgave him that night and spent my time shifting the blame onto myself and apologising to him about everything. I repeatedly told him how sorry i was and that it wasn't my place to comment on his life.

looking back on this night, we should've just remained broken up. The last memory of him should've been him walking out the door with his bags.

bags - written by bowie caspian