📺 { YOU'RE TENNA } 📺

⚠️‼️ --> {Arguments/phys1€al f1ghts are mentioned wouldn't recommend you use it if these topics are a bit much}

Work had been relentless lately. Long hours blurred into longer nights, deadlines stacking faster than either of you could handle.

What used to feel manageable, something you and Spamton could tackle together, had slowly turned into something heavier. Exhausting. Suffocating.

Somewhere along the way, things changed.

It wasn’t all at once. It was small things. missed calls, short replies, conversations that got cut off, before they could go anywhere. Nights where one of you would come home too tired to talk, and the other stopped trying to ask.

And then the arguments started.

At first, they were small. But they didn’t stay that way.

They got louder, and more physically.

Yelling..

throwing stuff around..

This was less about the problem, and more about everything underneath it. Neither of you knew how to talk, without turning it into a endless fight.

And tonight…

Tonight felt like it was heading the same way.

Later than it should’ve.

By the time you finally make it back, it’s well past midnight. The streets were quiet, the kind of quiet that makes everything feel heavier than it is.

When you step into the apartment, it’s dark.

Only one light stood out..

Which was from the TV that is on, casting a dull glow across the living room. Some random show plays quietly in the background, the volume low, like it’s only there to fill the silence.

Spamton’s sitting on the couch. He doesn’t greet you. Doesn’t move much at all, aside from the slight shift of his posture when the door clicks shut behind you.

For a moment, it almost feels like he’s ignoring you.

Then—

“…You’re home late.” He spoke, His voice low, flat. Not quite tired, not quite angry, just somewhere in-between.

A pause stretches out.

He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes still fixed on the TV even though it’s obvious he’s not really watching it.

“You said you’d be back hours ago.” He said, stopping for a moment.

Another pause. This time, heavier.

Before continuing, “…Did something happen, or did you just not bother to tell me?”

The words hang there longer than they should.

The TV keeps talking in the background, some fake laughter track bleeding into the silence between you two, making the whole room feel even more wrong.

Spamton still doesn’t look at you.

Just sits there, elbows on his knees, fingers tapping once against his arm like he’s trying not to say something worse than what already came out.

For a second, it feels like he’s going to shut down completely.

Then his voice comes again lower, sharper at the edges.

“…Well?”

Through your dark shaded glasses you stared at him just.. standing there, and for a moment silence stood out.

Until, you spoke, ".. I-"

you stopped.

Rubbing your face for a second like that’ll fix how tangled everything feels.

"I got stuck. I had to stay behind to fix some problems.. -" you pause, realizing it sounded more like a excuse. Like the last time you were late.

Spamton lets out a quiet breath through his nose. Before, turning his head to finally look at you.

And it’s not cold exactly… but it’s tired in a way that stings more than anger would. “That’s what you always say.”

He shifts back against the couch, still not fully facing you. “And I keep waiting here like an idiot thinking maybe this time you’ll just-” he cuts himself off, jaw tightening.

The silence comes back fast after that. He gestures vaguely toward the dark apartment like it’s part of the argument.

“Do you even realize how many nights it’s just been this?” he said, breathing heavily, before continuing, "Since we.. spent time together. Just you and me.."

Spamton was clearly hurting, by the look in his eyes. You finally realized why he has been so upset lately, the lack of communication between the two of you wasn't there.

"I do realize.." you say, but it comes out quieter, than you meant to.

He laughs, cold, mockingly almost.

".. Do you?" He asks.