Friday, December 5th, 2:47 p.m.

The chill wrapped around Christian as he left the diner, the specter of his breath hanging in the air for mere moments before disappearing to where ever it had to go. His nose wrinkled, emitting a sniffle before he turned, walking off into the crowd.

It was a rocky end, but at least he could look forward to a new beginning.

Friday, December 5th, 2:36 p.m.

Adam stared down on at his twisting hands, locking and unlocking his fingers. His eyes would flutter as he looked up from under his brow, glancing at the man across from him.

The leather jacket creaked slightly as Christian tightened his arms across his chest. He glared back at Adam, lips twisted in anger. His fingernails emitted a scritch scritch scritch as they dragged across the material of his coat.

Letting out a sigh, Adam sat back, combing his fingers through his hair. "Look… I… I didn't mean any of it," he said, his glance dodging to the side to look out the diner window, keeping Christian in his peripheral, "It's just. Well, it's been a rough couple of weeks for the both of us."

Nostrals flaring, Christian's lips tightened as he turned his face away. The most that ever came from his was a loud hmph and creaking of leather. Adam had fucked up, this much he knew. If he could go back, he'd fix it, but it was irreparable now. What had been done was done.

"Just… Say something, God fuck it!" Adam growled from between his teeth, hand tightening into a fist on the lacquered and glitter bespeckled table, "You're fucking killing me right now…"

Saturday, November 30th, 3:14 a.m.

"You fucking cunt," rang up and down the empty streets as Adam slammed his fists into the hoarfrost, "I'll fucking kill you, you fucking shit."

Christian stood in the window, staring down onto the clothing and tchotchke strewn lawn before drawing the maroon drapes closed. A sliver of light spilled out for a few minutes as Adam continued to spit forth curses.

Fingers scrambling to grip onto clothing and such, Adam continued slinging swear into the night air, the steam of his breath hanging in the air for a few moments before dissipating.

A squeal and the sudden appearance of red and blue halos was the only thing that stopped Adam's heathen chantings. A bright white bathed him, Adam raising his arm to shield his eyes from the blinding light.

"Sir, we received a noise complaint…" said a figure, obfuscated by the aura of white.

Saturday, November 30th, 1:23 a.m.

"I don't want to fucking hear it, Adam," growled Christian, his brow furrowing as he opened the window, the crank squeaking with each rotation, "It's enough that you even thought that sucking some… some fucking whore off wasn't going to hurt. But… BUT FUCKING THEM!?"

Adam cringed slightly at the last for words, not expecting them to sting as much as they did. "C'mon, daddy. It's not like I meant to… We all fuck up someti-"

"No. This is beyond fucking up," Christian roared, his hands balling up tight. "This is betrayal! I fucking… I fucking t-trusted you…" he choked, wiping his eyes with the back of his fists, "And you j-just sh-shitted all over that."

Christian stormed across the bedroom, the mattress shifting slightly as his knee bumped into it. The dresser drawer clattered as his large hands ripped it from it's resting place. He charged back across the room as Adam watched from the doorway, his inebriated state seeming to keep him from springing into action as his clothes were jettisoned onto front lawn.

"Da…Daddy… Come… Come o… Just fucking stop for a moment!" Adam erupted, his face contorting to that of a lion that had been pushed a bit too far. The last of his things sailed through the air, wafting and tumbling onto the frosted grass below.

"Don't fucking 'Daddy' me!" Christian snapped back, turning on his heels, seeming to teleport across the room to be chest to chest with Adam. "You get the fuck out of my house now," he growled, his thick hands pushing against his former lover's chest, ushering him out the bedroom door, his eyes reddened with the tears of absolute rage and internal pain.

Saturday, November 30th, 12:45 a.m.

Christian opened the door, a little bleary eyed. The rampant pounding and yells to wake up and come open the door from Adam had finally pulled him from his slumber.

"I got'scha theshe…" slurred Adam, sticking out a fist with a handful of violet tulips, clumps of soil still gripping for dear life on the roots.

Rubbing his eye with the heel of his palm, Christian turned to look at the clock on the far wall of the living room. "Adam… It's almost one in the fucking morning… I've got work tomorrow, I haven't seen or heard from you in a week… What the fuck do you even want right now?"

"I's gotsch ta tell ya somfink," Adam said, stepping across the threshold brutishly.

Friday, November 29th, 11:34 p.m.

Slumped over a mostly empty mug of beer, Adam ran through all of the events in his head. What a fucking shit hole I've dug for myself, he thought, the palm of his hand pressing against the bridge of his nose.

His hand fumbled in the pocket of his coat before he pulled out his phone. His thumb grazed the bottom of the screen, showing him the multiple red circles that notified him of every little call and text message he had received over the last week.

Adam hadn't even bothered to check the messages. He had gone so far to even avoid talking to Christian. Instead, the time he would have spent with his lover was instead spent filling himself with libations, hoping that the memories of what he had done would die.

Then I could go back to loving him.

He let out a groan as he set his head on the bar top, wrapping his arms around the top of his head, pounding a fist against the bar's lacquered surface.

The bar tender gave Adam a sideways glance as he set a pitcher of beer and frosted mugs on the bar. His face screwed up in annoyance for a moment before he turned his back on him, raising the remote to change the channel to the local news.

Some crazed idiot in a Santa getup had lead police on a three hour chase around the city, somehow having managed to evade capture on a rickshaw in that time.

Adam left a crumpled twenty on the bar, standing as he pulled his coat of the back of stool. He weaved gracelessly as he made his way out of the door.