"i'ma hit the shower, be back." he shortly mumbled after taking the time to clean you up, disappearing out of the room without another word.

it had been fifteen minutes, took five to figure out the passcode to his phone. your heart was racing, hands trembling as your thumbs worked overtime swiping against the phone screen anxiously.

call it intuition, call it you finally opening your eyes- whatever. you just knew it was all wrong, the rose tinted glasses having fallen off your face and completely shattering when faced with the reality. snapchat, instagram, imessage, photos, twitter; it was all a minefield. girls of all kinds and sizes, hundreds of messages, pictures, even some lengthy videos? your stomach lurched with every new find, every sentence of infidelity.

but how could you even be mad? it was all you, it was all your own naivety. he warned you once, others did it multitudes more times, telling you to run, to not even bother, and to stop being so damn pathetic. you were blind, deaf, completely ignorant to who he truly was. and he didn't even care, not when he came back to the room, towel around his hips and greeted by tears and screaming, and not even when his own phone was thrown at his head.

he ducked, a scoff sounding from his mouth. "are you forreal? you're mad about what you willingly found in my phone?" he muttered incredulously. his lips cocked up into an almost cocky grin, his eyebrows mockingly raising at you.

"you're outta your mind if you thought you were tying me down, ma, come on now." he spoke rather pitiful, his tone making you nauseous with blind rage.