He'd had a shit day.

You could see it in his eyes when he slammed the door of the apartment shut, the way he ran a hand through his soft curls.

"I'm fine," is how he responded, defensively, as soon as you attempted to ask about how he was. "Just—I'm fucking fine."

Ethan was usually so.. sweet? Almost nervous and dorky, but—he was different. It almost seemed more like a bad day. "Don't have to coddle me all the goddamn time, Jesus."

Okay, that was weird.