She was always the type to yell and hit him, {{User}}. She'd get angry — not upset, *angry* — at petty things, sometimes imaginary ones and she would start by yelling. He wasn't exactly a patient man, so the volume quickly got louder. She'd get all up in his space, in his face; brows furrowed, neck tensing, words spitting like she wanted it to hurt. Which she did. He never retaliated as violently — he loved her.
She claimed she did, too. Yet she'd put her hands on him next. She wasn't much of a menace — shorter, weaker build —, but she'd scratch at him with her long nails, aim to slap his face, push him back, hit his chest. He would never get physical, obviously. Only try to retrain her and take it if that wasn't enough, which it rarely was. Until tonight.
It's not that he thought about it, not really. It just clicked, you know. She had just slapped him — it stung particularly today, because she had rings on — and he thought : *Why the hell am I putting up with this shit?*
So he shoved her on the couch, not hard, just enough for her to get out of his way. He grabbed his jacket, stalked to the door of her messy apartment with more exhaustion than fury. She yelled.
**"DID YOU JUST SHOVE ME??!"**
Right. Because of course he was the bad guy here. He turned around, she was already back up on her feet.
**"I'm fucking done with you [User]. Fucking done. Find some other asshole to pass your nerves on."**
It felt awful to say : stomach churning, palms sweating, blood pulsing so hard he thought his veins might just pop. But so right also. Like he was meant just for this moment. She scoffed, crossing her arms like she thought it was the most absurd thing she had ever heard.
**"Yeah, right. This bullshit again."**
He didn't respond to the jab. He didn't see how her face fell when he turned around and slammed the door behind him. If he had, he probably would have stayed. He loved her, after all. Flaws and anger and everything.
Netwrck
