A/N: this is probably the worst thing I have ever written, but it's mostly a pointless drabble and reflection on some things that went down recently. It can be whatever couple you please. It's completely unedited and came to my mind a few days ago and up until now, I've been rushing to finish it. The ending is completely abrupt but I skipped over some things and just wrote. It was word vomit. Enjoy.

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Raised voices echoed into the hallway from the very last room upstairs. Footsteps were heard and the door opened, allowing light from the large window to seep into the plain, white corridor that lead to every room on the second floor. Not a minute later, however, the door was slammed shut and yelling occurred once again as a girl walked down the wooden staircase, a tall male not too far behind.

"Come on, why do you have to be like that?" He hissed, venom running through his tone clearly.

Her eyes narrowed as she stopped walking, and looked up to see him gazing down at her from above, with his hands supporting himself on the railing. "Why do you have to be like that? You're being such a jerk! You say one thing but you do the other!"

"Well at least I'm not being a moody bitch!" He smirked, knowing he was getting to her, and felt that spark of satisfaction grow within him as a frustrated groan came from her lips.

"Me? ME? IT'S YOU!"

"Ha, sure it is."

"You're the one who cheated. You CHEATED on me. TWICE!" Her chest heaved as her voice raised and anger grew inside of her. She shook her head and made her way down the stairs, grabbing her jacket off the couch and shrugging into it, not bothering to answer her phone that began to ring in her pocket.

He shrugged. "I was drunk."

"Right, what a great excuse," she sneered at him. He glared at her, noticing the sarcasm that dripped intensely from her comment.

Gripping the railing tighter, he felt anger bubble up. "Why don't you just shut up for once and listen?"

"Because the only thing that comes out of your mouth is bull!"

"And what you say isn't? You're hilarious. You know what? You're stupid. You're stupid and mental, and fucked up and your constant mood swings are ANNOYING! Just get out of my face!"

"Fine! Go have fun with the sluts from last night!"

He laughed, a cold chuckle. "In case you haven't noticed, they aren't here right now, because I'm at home and they were at a club. Smartass."

Her cheeks burned in embarrassment, angry at herself for not coming up with a better comeback.

The smirk appeared on his face once again as he watched her realize she was, yet again, proved wrong.

"And you claim you aren't stupid."

She spun on her heel at that moment, and stormed out the door with nothing but a loud slam to confirm her exit.

His expression softened and he slumped down on the couch, feeling a pain in his heart; she was gone. Not forever, though. He turned his gaze towards his hands that he played with profusely as he anticipated her return. He flexed his hands into fists, and then released the muscles, and flexing them into fists again, watching as his knuckles turned white from gripping his own fingers so tight that he could break one if he tried. He looked up suddenly, his eyes travelling along the pale nude-colored wall that stared back at him as if to mock him for his stupidity.

But that thought was quickly brushed aside as his throbbing headache took over from last night's activities, later accompanied by a churning in his stomach that threatened to come up if he made any sudden movements.

He stared intently at the door, waiting. She'll come back, he though. She'll turn around and walk right back in to apologize.

So he waited, and waited, and waited. Even after a long hour of waiting and staring and hurting, the door stayed shut, with no signs of opening to her anytime soon.

I'm sorry.

The two words flashed on the screen of his phone and he grabbed it, reading it over.

It's fine.

No it's not. I was really rude.

So was I.

But I started it. You weren't feeling well.

Still. I shouldn't have called you stupid.

You'd never cheat on me again, right?

Of course not, babe.

Good.

Yep.

Their conversation left off at that. She did not reply, and he didn't make an attempt to continue the conversation. He never did. But she didn't mind – she liked to talk; to him, at least. She could go on for hours, knowing that he would listen, no matter how pointless the topic was. Lately, however, it was different. He was different, and it killed her because he was pushing her away. She felt replaced. There were other girls, and other places he had to be that didn't include her. Sometimes, they were so close yet so far away and though she didn't understand that, she tried to cope with it, and drowned herself in everything but dwelling upon that.

She'd even resorted to cutting, two months prior but quickly stopped when her mother arranged for her to meet with a boring middle-aged woman who drawled on about how cutting is bad. Of course she knew that, she wasn't stupid. Sometimes, however, she felt the pang inside her that urged her to pick up the metallic, silver blade and press it so hard against her skin that it would seep past the exterior barrier, allowing the blood to flow freely down her arm. She would watch it as it trickled down and would soon accompany though drops of blood with her own salty tears that trickled down her cheeks similarly.

What do you do to mend a broken heart?

Her fingers grazed the smooth keys on her laptop with no destination determined yet. Her eyes were locked upon his screen name, highlighted in bold text, under the 'Favorites' category. The border surrounding his display picture was green, indicating he was indeed online, and she took a deep breath, clicking it.

They started off with small talk as they pretended nothing ever happened, though the tension was too thick to ignore. Anyone could have seen that something went down, no matter whom they were or where they were from.

They worked the "What are you up to?" talks, and discussed their boredom and movies that they were hoping to see, though they both longed to discuss a more personal topic.

Finally, after 15 minutes of useless talk, she spoke up.

Why are we like this?

I don't know. His response was short and slightly cold.

I hate it.

Me too.

You lied when you said you would never cheat on me, or hurt me. I trusted you.

You think I don't know that? I was hung-over; you can't expect me to control what I say to you.

Well I just thought you meant it.

Well I didn't.

Oh.

…Yell at me, slap me, get mad at me, do SOMETHING.

What's the point in getting mad? We'll just fight all over again.

Well it seems like you don't care.

You know more than anyone else that I will always care.

You're not showing that you do. You just say "Oh, okay" when I tell you I cheated on you. I cheated on you TWICE.

Are you trying to hurt me even more?

No, I'm just saying.

I think you've said enough.

You're the one feeding me bullshit. "Oh, okay." "Yeah, sure, I forgive you." "That's alright, it was an accident."

In case you haven't noticed, I'm not the type to go all psycho-bitch girlfriend on you just because you made a mistake.

Well I'd appreciate an actual response instead of what I "want" to hear. Be honest with me.

Fine. It hurts; a lot. It makes me think that you don't care about me and that this whole thing isn't working out, even though I want it to, so badly. It makes me feel like shit, but I don't say anything to you about it because I don't want you to feel that way, too.

It makes me beyond jealous because there are people who get to be around you every. Single. Day. I'm stuck somewhere, thinking about how things could be so much better and easier between us. Maybe you don't mean to cheat on me and I totally get that, but I don't know what to say because I don't want to make you feel even worse when you're hung-over and feeling like crap.

But you make it so hard not to be mad at you when you call me stupid or you insult me and me make me feel like I'm worthless and don't know anything; you give me the cold shoulder for no reason and you ignore me, and I'm always the one apologizing in the end, even if it isn't my fault, because I don't want us to be like this.

And the only reason I always seem so clingy and needy and attached is because I feel like I'm losing you, and I can't lose the most important person in my life. It sucks.

…

Baby, you're not losing me.

It feels like it.

Well you're not. Our anniversary is coming up in a few days and I love you with all my heart, even if I fuck up a lot and I never apologize. I'm the one who should be sorry, for everything and for making you feel like shit and ruining your life. These past two years have been great because it's where we were both…I don't know. Happy.

I love you so much, and I'm the one who should be taking the blame for it, even though I dump it on you, and I wish I could make it up to you.

She smiled slightly even though her chest ached with a need to cry.

Brb. Shower.

She laughed to herself, deciding to reply now.

You were the reason I stopped cutting and you're the only person I can depend on and I know I don't have a lot of confidence but you always known how to make me feel a little bit better about myself. I worry way too much and I watch way too many sappy chick flicks, and I get paranoid whenever you're pissed or upset. I feel like it's my fault, or I've said the wrong thing, or you'll dump me.

Surprisingly, she saw him begin to type.

I love you.

I love you, too.