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Leona liked to think she was very good at pretending she wasn't losing her mind. As someone who was bordering on insanity most of the time, she was proud of the fact that she had a relatively well put-together front.
Now was no different, and she'd die on the hill that Gene Gallagher doesn't deserve any special treatment, so, despite the fact that every bone in her body was itching to grab the phone that she'd locked in her bedside drawer for her own safety and call him, she kept herself firmly planted on the couch, gripping her pot noodle so hard, it was a surprise that the styrofoam didn't snap.
She couldn't remember which Netflix dating show was on right now, only that the episode had finished on a painful cliffhanger. She paused before the next episode could begin and went to the kitchen to make some tea.
Grabbing a grey mug that used to be blue from the press, and flicking on the kettle, Leona hummed a Beatles song and rocked on the tips of her feet. Suddenly, a sharp knocking on her door rang out and she jumped, spilling sugar over the counter.
"Shit!" She cursed, calling out "One sec!" as she quickly swept up the granules.
On the other side of the door, Gene was wiping his palms on the side of his jeans, a nervous sweat clung to him, and he cursed himself for not bringing flowers, or chocolates, or something else that would make her want to forgive him.
When she opened the door, her charmingly polite smile dropped instantly. "Oh. What are you doing here?" She asked sternly, arms folded.
Gene swallowed tentatively. "I wanted to apologise."
"I don't care." Leona replied as soon as the words left his mouth, moving to shut the door in his face.
Hurriedly, Gene put his hands out with a desperate look on his face. "Wait! Leona, just hear me out, please."
"Oh yeah, like you heard me out earlier?" She paused in frustration. "You know what your problem is, Gene? You don't know what you want, but you still take it out on other people when you don't get it. It's not fair, and it makes you a cunt."
Gene winced, looking and the floor and scratching the back of his neck as a tense silence passed through them. "You're right, I don't know what I want, but I do know that I hate it when you're upset, and I hate it more when it's because of me. I was a dickhead."
"And?" Leona's arms were crossed and she tapped her foot impatiently against the floor, still standing in the doorframe and staring him down.
