"You're late," I said, continuing to clear the table without looking up, muttering the last word, "again."

I heard Damon scoff slightly from behind me, dropping his bag and jacket as he walked in the door. "Sorry, I didn't realize there was anything to be on time for."

Pressing my lips together for a second to stay calm, I glanced back at him quickly. "I told you dinner was going to be at six. It's now," I paused to look up at the clock, "almost seven-thirty."

"So now dinner is a to-the-minute, scheduled thing?" he asked, sending me a skeptical look as he searched the fridge for something to eat.

Growing increasingly more frustrated, I took a deep breath and placed the dishes in the sink, then turned so that I was facing Damon. "No, but when you're almost an hour and a half late, then it's a problem."

Damon's hand clenched around the fridge handle slightly, but he didn't lift his gaze as he spoke. "I'm sorry Your Highness, it won't happen again."

"And that's exactly what you said the last time this happened," I said, crossing my arms over my chest, choosing to ignore the overly sarcastic tone in his voice.

This time, he did straighten out, shutting the fridge without ever taking anything out. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again, an angry look on his face. "I'm going out. Be back later."

My own jaw dropped slightly, appalled at the fact that he was really just going to leave again. "When are you going to be home?"

"I don't know, later?" he said, rolling his eyes as he put his jacket back on. He opened the door, turning back to blow me an overly exaggerated, completely cynical kiss before nearly slamming it behind him.

I stayed where I was for a couple seconds after Damon was gone, trying to process exactly what had just happened. It's not like we had even gotten into a fight, not technically. But this also definitely wasn't the first time we had had a disagreement about Damon's apparent inability to keep track of time.

Sighing, I finished cleaning up the mostly uneaten dinner, washing off the table, putting away the leftovers, and anything else I could do to pass the time. I knew there was no way I would be able to sleep until Damon was home, so I had several hours to kill.

Eventually, I ran out of things to do, having already cleaned pretty much the entire apartment, folded some laundry, taken a shower, and flipped through every channel we had at least twice. It was already almost two in the morning, but Damon was nowhere to be seen.

I must have dozed off on the couch, because the next thing I knew, I was startled awake by the door being thrown open. My head snapped up, my eyes frantically trying to adjust to the light that was flooding in.

Slowly but surely, my boyfriend came into focus, his tall frame leaning against the doorway, a sickly grin on his face. No sooner had I seen his face then I squeezed my eyes shut again for a second, swearing under my breath. Plastered. Damon was completely and totally plastered.

I sat up as Damon stepped farther into the room, shutting the door behind him. He stumbled his way over towards me and, out of reflex, when he started to fall I jumped up to stop him, leading him to the couch so that he could sit down.

"Thanks sweetheart," he slurred, trying to pull me down onto the couch next to him. I winced slightly and pulled my wrist out of his grip, taking a seat a good foot away from where he was sprawled out on the couch.

If there was one thing I couldn't stand, it was drunk Damon. I would have rather had angry Damon, sarcastic Damon, or even late Damon, than have him come home like this.

"Oh come on," Damon drawled, making another advance at me. And because of my position on the couch, I was unable to move out of the way as he wrapped his arms around me and started placing sloppy, wet kisses along my neck.

I squirmed slightly, completely uncomfortable as I tried to push him away, with little success. "Damon. Damon, stop it!" I cried out as he continued to move closer.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't stop trying to climb on top of me, one of his hands fiddling with the hem of my shirt as he gave me a drunken grin. "What, you don't want this, sweetheart?" I shook my head. "Why not?"

"You're drunk, Damon," I said, trying to sound firm even as my voice shook. Somehow, I escaped his grasp, sliding off the couch and backing up a foot or two so that he couldn't grab me again.

I knew things were about to take a turn for the worse when a dark look crossed over Damon's face, and he sat up slightly. "That's never stopped you before," he spat out, causing my own face to turn a crimson red.

Instead of replying to him and turning this into an even bigger mess, I simply stood up, my face still burning, and walked into the bedroom. Not hearing any footsteps following me, I quickly began stuffing some clothes into a bag. Once that was done, I walked back into the living room, slipped on a pair of shoes and jacket and was halfway out the door before Damon spoke again.

"And just where do you think you're going?" was the surprisingly forceful sentence uttered from the boy who was still somewhat sprawled out on the couch.

I froze where I was, one foot already out the door, and turned back to look at him. "Out," I replied shortly, bolting the rest of the way out, shutting the door and practically running down the hallway.

Waiting until I was entirely out of the apartment building before I even stopped to breathe, I all but collapsed on one of the benches that was set up, trying to figure out what I was going to do now.

There was no way I could go back inside the apartment, at least not tonight. I let out a sigh, knowing that left me with only one option. Standing up, I adjusted my bag and started walking down the deserted street towards my destination.