"If you don't tell me why you are here, why you entered my life in the first place, it's over. I can't do this anymore. The secrets, the riddles, the hidden meanings. I can't handle it!" Liz screamed for what felt like the millionth time. She had suffered this long enough. He had to understand that enough is enough. She could see that he wanted to tell her.
They were standing in the middle of the apartment she had reluctantly accepted from him. For a while she seemed to relax with him. Her constant questioning had stopped. He knew it wasn't something that was going to last forever. Eventually, her curious nature would take over and she would explode, demanding answers. Apparently, that time was now.
His head tilted to the side, as he considered her for a moment. He knew she deserved to know. This version of her was really persistent and hard. What strange circumstances the universe served him this time. This was always the hardest part, but ultimately inevitable. She was always impossibly stubborn and the truth always struck her differently. Once she insisted he was crazy. Well, almost every time she does that. But the fifth time she was really convinced he was ill. One time he was, just not the way she thought. This time though, this one will be difficult. She studied psychology for god's sake.
"You won't believe me." He stated abruptly, testing her.
"Why? What kind of answer is that?" She was on edge. Maybe this time, he should let her be happy. Maybe he should leave. Their relationship has been strained this whole time. Maybe he should have approached her sooner. All other possibilities ran through his head at once. Maybe this time is supposed to be a break for them to experience a different world. He was at a crossroads. She won't remember anyway.
"How do you see me?" He questioned. "What am I to you? What are your feelings toward me?"
She paused. "How on earth is that relevant?"
"Oh believe me Lizzie. You'd be surprised." He supplied with a minuscule twitch below his eye.
The oddness of his questions made her stop and reconsider the situation. What was he playing at? She threatened to leave. She contemplated how would his answer would change depending on her response.
He had taken a seat on the couch. Acting as if this was simple and meaningless. Maybe it was for him. If she didn't know any better, she might believe that. But his shoulders were tense, he worked on the inside of his jaw, and hadn't taken his eyes away from her since they began fighting. He was a strange mixture of fear and assurance.
"How am I supposed to feel?"
The response was the chuckle that didn't reach his eyes and the shake of his head. "Lizzie, I can't answer that."
Her anger came rushing back.