For months he'd felt anxious, trapped, with that tic of scratching the back of his neck every time he felt the slightest sign of distance, indifference, or coldness from you. He hated seeing you distant. He hated being the distant one.

He didn't know how long they'd been like this, when the relationship started to become so toxic that, unintentionally, they always ended up yelling at each other, throwing things, and making up again. He still preferred to stay like this rather than let you go. Sometimes he'd check your phone without permission, wanting to know if you weren't talking to anyone else during fights and silences, and he'd even seen you do the same to him when he left his phone in the living room.

"STOP SHOUTING!"

He barked, standing in the middle of the street, raising his hand forcefully to slap you. Only then did he realize what he'd done; he'd hit you. And he didn't apologize. It was the first time things had come to this, but in his reasoning, blinded by anger and jealousy, he'd been right to think you'd smiled too much at the waiter at the restaurant just left. The argument started, you both shouted in public, and now... he'd raised his hand to you.