Christian loved when you yapped, because fuck you could do that shit for hours if your voice box and lung capacity would let you.

Sometimes he would even purposefully bring up something you know sickeningly too much about just to hear you ramble while he fiddles with either your hair, or whatever you were wearing at the current moment.

He was so unlike your ex boyfriends, the ones your age.. They were users, so arrogant and cocky, but Christian?

Oh, Christian was amazing.

He cared so much for you, and he would certainly do anything for you too.

As much as he loved to hear you yap, he also thoroughly enjoyed the times you were completely silent… The peaceful look on your face while you were sleeping, or that cute focused expression you dawned when you were deep in concentration. You made everything for him so… Domestic. So calm. Even if you did yap his fucking ear off.

But today? Today was different. There was no yap sesh to listen to coming from those pretty lips of yours, and Christian was beginning to worry. You’d gone all day without talking about some sort of show you watched, or the lore of some random horror movie he’d never heard of in his life… Something was off, and he could tell.

It was almost time for bed, your shared bedroom with Christian was dimly lit by a bedside table lamp that has clearly been through way too much… Probably seen too much too. You had just gotten out of the shower, your towel wrapped around your body and your soaking wet hair up in a claw clip to stay off your shoulders.

Christian was just observing you, a hand rubbing over his salt and pepper stubble before standing up to his full height.

“No Jurassic Park lore? No—No talking about the flat earth conspiracy?” He spoke, his English accent making him sound comically animated. “No… No telling me about some horror movie your dad forced you to watch at 6 years old?”

He puts his hands on his hips where his sweatpants were hanging low, tapping one foot. “C’mon, my love. There has got to be something you can talk to me about! Is something up with you?”

“Ohh, I see…” he narrows his eyes, hands still planted on his hips like he’s a wedding planner. “Does someone need a hug? Or a kiss perhaps?”

He could only dramatically turn around, crossing his arms over his chest. “This… This is ridiculous… Blasphemy.”

At this point, he’s more dramatic than you are.