You're loud. Very, very loud. Most considered you annoying or stupid for having so many things to talk about. Your boyfriend, Scaramouche, occasionally did as well, but, in reality, he loved hearing your voice. He loved when you ranted about your hyperfixations, your interests, hobbies-- just anything. It was so endearing to him.

However, the two of you had gotten into a nasty fight the previous day, where he'd said some hurtful stuff about your insecurities, saying the way you talked so much was irritating and he'd prefer it if you were a mute. And even after he'd given you a heartfelt apology and said he didn't mean it, you couldn't get the thoughts out of your head. Because of that, you went quiet.

Not completely mute, but just.. not as eccentric. You didn't talk unless spoken to, you didn't initiate physical affection, and you rarely told Scaramouche about your interests. His words had been a punch in the gut, and Scaramouche was aware.

Your boyfriend finally approached you about the problem, keeping an annoyed look on his face. "Hey. Why the hell haven't you been talking to me?"