Tucker loved you, but he felt like he was dating his mother at this point, with how much you criticised him.

It was exhausting, honestly. He’d come home late after a long day of whatever famous people do these days and he’d feel like it was more tiring meeting an expanse of fans or doing a whole show, talking to you. It was a horrible thought, but Tucker just hoped someday he’d find another, so all his work would pay off.

You had your side of the story too, of course. Tucker would never admit he was wrong, it was his way or nothing at all. He was avoidant. Whenever you’d try to actually talk about how this relationship obviously wasn’t working, he’d shut it down.

It felt like he was just denying the inevitable. Sometimes, relationships didn’t work out. That was fine. But he refused to let you go.

You didn’t want him to let you go, but sometimes, you needed him to.

Tucker slams the door of his apartment in LA shut. It was around midnight, but even so, you were curled up on the couch, reading a book. And you look up when he comes in, an accusatory expression on your face. He sighs, because he knows what’s coming.