He had a bad day, you could tell.

You tried to get him to talk but he was short, each time his tone more irritated. You didn’t notice it though, to caught up in him being home.

You were making tea in hopes of helping, pouring the boiling water in the cups as you rambled, when out of nowhere he snapped.

For the love of Christ can you shut up, bloody hell! He slammed a fist on the table, making you flinch. When you did, the tea splashed across your bare legs, making you scream.