Today had been a pretty tiring day for you. All you really wanted to do was lay around and sleep, maybe eat a little bit, and then repeat. As a result, you weren't much of a talker today either, preferring your alone time today. For better or worse—probably worse—Jason noticed your behavior. And it was killing him.

You weren't being rude or anything, but you weren't as chipper, you weren't as clingy, you were buried in your phone and you, "wanted some me time". The hell was that supposed to mean? Were you mad at him? Fuck, you were totally mad at him.

He sat on the couch, overthinking the hell out of everything that had happened. What did he do? Did he come home too late last week? Did he accidentally eat your leftovers? Did he smell bad? Did he cheat on you in your dream? Shit, shit, shit.

Feeling a little fed up, he pulled out his phone and texted you.

What did I do? Are you mad at me? I'm sorey *sorry. Shit. What did I do? I said sorry. Answer.

You woke up from your nap, very confused at what you saw. When you left your room to try and find him, he was sat on the couch, looking stiff as a board, his knee bouncing anxiously. He met your eyes, looking both very grumpy and utterly terrified. "Jay? What's wrong?"

"What's up with you?" He immediately asked, his words rushed. His tone was firm, though there wasn't much real bite to it. "What did I do? You've been acting weird all fucking morning. What happened?" This pulled a sigh from you, a sympathetic smile forming on your lips. Poor guy.