Rule One: You Must Always, Always Play The Game.
.
.
You can scream and shout at him all you like but that doesn't change the fact that you feel sick when he kisses other girls on his show and that when he says your name like that ("really, Sonny? Really?") you don't feel patronized, just wanted.
You like that you have routine. He says something rude, you say something rude. He gets insulted, you get insulted. You play the game ("are we good?"). Rinse and repeat if needed. But this game isn't as fun as it used to be.
"Sorry, Sonny," he says with that smile that you only sometimes see as he helps you up off the floor and you think that maybe this time the game will be hugs and smiles and laughs instead of shouts and slammed doors and crying. "I didn't see you there through all my talent."
And you realize that the game will never change. It will be the sort of game which goes on forever and people always remember (monopoly, scrabble) and you can't change the rules of monopoly. But it's getting harder to keep playing this game, because even when you win, you still lose.
So you give one of those smiles that you save for when you want to make someone feel something and say "no problem, Chad," before walking away.
"Sonny," he says from behind you. You keep walking. You don't want to look back anymore; you know you'll just give in. "Sonny!"
He has his Mackenzie voice on and you can't help but stop. He's got you so bad, you'd know you'd do anything if he asked.
"Yes, Chad?'
"Play the game, Sonny." It's a demand, and he sounds a bit confused. Why are you changing the routine? You know he's asking. I don't know, Chad, you say back. Why doesn't the routine ever change?
"Fine," you say instead. He grins, and you feel so fucking good for making him happy that you don't mind that you won't be.
"Fine," he answers happily.
"Fine."
"Good."
"Good."
"So we're good?"
You know the answer. It's on your tongue. You've done this so many times you don't need to think about it. He's waiting for it. You're waiting for it. The stage hand listening in, he's waiting for it.
"No."
And you turn on your heel and walk away, leaving them all waiting. You changed the un-changeable game, and a part of you feels proud.
Rules are meant to be broken, even if it makes Chad Dylan Cooper unhappy.