"I wasn't that late!"
"You were an hour late! How is that not that late?"
"You know how busy I am!"
"I MAKE TIME IN MY SCHEDULE! Why can't you make ANY TIME IN YOURS?!"
"IM TRYING, OK?!"
"APPARENTLY NOT HARD ENOUGH!"
"What do you want from me?"
We'd been arguing for nearly an hour now. Back and forth, always aggressive and loud and angry. I'd begin crying, his voice was cracking as it went hoarse. Round and round we went, hands curling into fists as they flew through the air- we were both animated speakers. We were also both angry. Very angry. It wasn't even the things that had started this whole thing that we were mad at before. After breaking into several similar fights, tensions were high and at this point, we were just telling to yell.
"DAMN IT THOMAS I WANT-" I grabbed my sides by wrapping my arms around my chest. I couldn't breathe. I HATED arguing, yelling. I hated to see him upset. I hated feeling this way. It made it hard to speak. Hard to think. Hard to function.
He runs a hand through his hair for the millionth time that night. If it was any other situation, I would admire how fluffy and messy it looks. Right now, I haven't noticed. "This shouldn't be so hard!" Thomas adds after I pause. "We were fine! Until you had to-"
I snapped my head to him and he stopped talking. That second, he realized he'd fucked up. "Until I?" I said carefully. My anger had almost dropped again, giving way to anguish and what was really hurting me- how much I missed him. I almost found the words, almost grasped sense again. But no. In his moment of frustration he had tried to blame the whole thing on me and that action alone wiped away any chance of sense coming from me as I spoke again. "I messed us up? I started shit? What exactly did I do?" I stepped closer to him with each enunciated word, eyes dangerous and jaw locked and voice low. The calm before the storm.
He stuttered for a second and tried to back petal but it was too late. My heart smashed in my chest and I know what I had to do next.
"It's just, ever since you started at that stupid radio station thing it's like you're gone when I'm here and-"
I scoffed, cutting him off. "How many years have we been together?" I asked him dangerously.
He had a look on his face that this new calm, functional tone was worse than me yelling at him. "Five," he said slowly.
"Five years." I took a step for every word. "Five years we've been together. Five years I sacrificed my life so we could have a steady relationship. Five FUCKING YEARS THOMAS!" He flinched, but nothing could calm me or pull pity from me now. "PLEASE FORGIVE ME FOR GETTING MY DREAM JOB AND DOING SOMETHING WITH MY LIFE!" My voice was rising again but he had been knocked down a peg and he was suddenly dead quiet. "I don't ask you to give up acting to be with me more." My voice cracked at the last word and Thomas looked so broken, seeing me cry, and knowing he had caused it, that I couldn't look at him anymore. Something in me snapped and I ran into the bathroom and slammed the door, locking it. I sunk to the floor and sobbed.
I heard muffling on the other side and realized Thomas was on his knees, leaning his forehead on the door. The anger was gone. The arguing and the pushing at each other- all that meaningless anger that wasn't really anger as much as it was longing. Whistfulness. Us lashing out because we missed each other but everything seemed to be against us being together like we used to be. When we both finally recognized what was really wrong... in the cracks of my voice, the words he used to describe his dislike of my new job.
In all our arguing only now were we actually hearing what the other was saying: Come back to me.
But that meant that we had to realize we weren't in the same place anymore. We weren't as strong, as solidified, as constant. We were broken, separated- scattered. I looked in his eyes and I saw fear and pain. We had lost time together. Conversation. Inside jokes. Meals. Cuddles. Kisses. What if we had lost the love altogether? The thought was too unbearable.
"Y/n?" He croaked. I was knocked out of my thoughts, suddenly aware that I wasn't breathing. He was crying. "Y/n, please." I still didn't respond. Maybe it was because I couldn't or I wouldn't, but either way I didn't. There was another pause as I tried to calm down. "Love, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I've been selfish. It's not the job I hate. It's the people. And I don't mean you. I-" he was sobbing almost as hard as me and I wanted to get out and hold him. But I couldn't--wouldn't. "Y/n, you don't understand. The radio announcer. He... Ugh. This is all wrong. He kept taunting me. Talking about how- how- I'm sorry. I was just really jealous and I didn't want you to know. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me." He stopped, silently begging me to open up the door. Hoping I would.
I felt so far away. This was hopeless. We'd been arguing so long and everything was so messed up. We had no time with each other- the time we did have was spent at each other's throats. It had been an amazing five years. Maybe... it was time to stop it. End it. Before the memories grew tainted and what we used to have became as dismal as what we had now. And now he was jealous. Eventually it would hit me too. Seeing him on shows and with costars and those who fans of franchises shipped him with already poked and prodded at the back of my mind. We didn't trust each other anymore. It was time...
"I love you," he whispered. My eyes shut as I let my head fall softly back on the door. Fuck. "Y/n? Love?"
I stood and hesitated. I still had to break up with him. That was the only option.
Right?
I grabbed the knob gently and turned it. He shot to his feet and was facing me by the time it was all the way open. I was a mess, but he looked at me like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
I still have to break up with him.
You have to, huh?
That was my mom's voice. Scolding me even in death. She always talked about how relationships were hard. How you needed to work through them. How fights shouldn't put you down unless they go too far. Thomas wasn't abusive or rude or an asshole. He had his moments, but so did everyone. I was very lucky to have him. So we had fights. Every healthy relationship does. I could see it in his face. We'd finally broken past that unsurity, whatever was holding us back. He'd finally said it. Maybe it wasn't all him. Maybe I was being stubborn too. I looked up at Thomas and he could see that I wasn't going to leave. He could read me very well.
Thomas and I didn't fight often anyway. Not usually. We were great at communicating our feelings and thoughts. It was just every once in a while, our pride got the best of us. And this time it had been especially bad. Would the first big fight we'd had in probably three and a half years send me packing? How could it, when I was so insanely in love with him?
He stood there, red eyed and messy haired, and looked at me. "Are we... Okay?" Is all he asked.
I took a step forward and immediately he did too, meeting me in the middle. We wrapped our arms around each other. "We will be," I finally whispered. My voice was hoarse.
"You know I love you right?" He whispered.
"Yeah." I paused. "Do you know that I love you?"
"Yeah."
I leaned back. "No, you don't Tommy. You wouldn't get jealous if you understood how much I want you. How much I absolutely love you, to the point that when you walk in the room, all courtesy goes out the window and all I want is you. I can't see anyone when you're around. It's like tunnel vision, I swear. No one else matters!" I looked in his eyes as I said every word. "Tommy, I love you. I wish there was a stronger word because love is too over used..." I paused. "I like you too." We'd joked about how you can love someone but you don't necessarily have to like them. Like when your parents are punishing you or you fight with your lover or your best friend. "I love you AND I like you. You're my best friend, Tommy. I want to spend forever with you. And if that hasn't changed in five years with all the bull shit I've had to deal with because you're famous, nothing will. Nothing will ever take me from you except death," I said firmly.
He pulled me to him against "Don't say that. Please don't say that." He sucked in a breath. "I know you're just being dramatic but please don't say that."
We both chuckled weakly. It was quiet for a second. "I love you. So much."
He relaxed. "I know, Love. I know." He held me until we were both satisfied and then he let me go. I kissed him and he smiled. It was all better. Funny how once we talked it seemed like all the things that were seconds from destroying everything I held most dear were suddenly gone. Communication and reassurance- humanity's closest things to real magic.
"You know the best part of fighting?" I teased, trying to get rid of the sad mood. I hated fighting.
"What?" He asked, tilting his head, intrigued.
I grinned. My face was a mess but for the first time in about the last month things were looking up and it felt so good to finally feel some sunshine now that the storm had passed. "Making up."
He laughed. A real laugh. Loud and full. His head tilted back and his mouth opened wide. My insides warmed. "That was so cheesy!"
My grin turned to a smirk. "No, Tommy. It was an invitation." Look, a woman had needs and after spending so much time at each other's throats I could REALLY go for some intimacy to wipe away the past while of bad feelings and dreaded futures that, fortunately, weren't happening.
He took a second... Then it clicked.bA huge smirk flashed across his face and we took off running at the same time, racing. He beat me to the bedroom and then pulled me inside, both of us laughing. The rest is history.