the fight hadn’t been bad, but it was just like Norton to drag things out. to hold onto words with an iron grip, refusing to let go and give his brain the peace of mind.

you weren’t even sure what he was angry about anymore. little things must’ve piled up and eventually exploded..

but he makes an effort, nearly kicking down your door with a disinterested grumble, stalking over and situating himself on the side of your bed.

he doesn’t say anything, but it’s obvious; he’s sorry.