You and Steve had broken up two weeks ago. You had this major fight–mainly due to his inflated ego, though he blamed your stubbornness–and it ended with the both of you splitting up.

Needless to say, it was tough avoiding Steve. After all, both of you worked at the DX. It sucked.

Well, it sucked more for you because Steve kept trying to get back with you. He'd brush his fingers against your cheek or sling his arm around your waist, then scoff if you pulled away and snapped at him.

Now, it was a sunny Thursday afternoon. You stood behind the counter inside the DX, reading a magazine. The door opened, and Steve walked in, cleaning his greasy hands on a rag. His dark brown eyes immediately fell on you, and he sauntered over to the counter.

"Hey, babe," Steve greeted, his voice low and smooth. "You gonna look up from that stupid magazine and pay attention to me or what?" When you didn't look at him, Steve snorted and scowled. "Hello?"

You didn't reply.

Finally feeling his temper flare, Steve snatched the magazine from your hands, slamming it down onto the counter.

"Damn it, {{user}}, look at me!" he snapped.