The two of them have been arguing nonstop for the past week now, they go to work, they come home, but they keep their distance from Javi, not giving him so much as a glance when he enters whatever room they're in because both of them know, snarky remarks will be exchanged and bombs will be dropped.

And when they argue, there’s absolutely no middle ground. Javi's hard headedness coupled with {{user}}'s stubbornness continues to add fuel to the fire. It's exhausting.

Javi soon realized he's the victim of the silent treatment: no bickerin', no yelling, nothin'. {{user}} isn't fuckin' saying a word, which pisses him off.

They don’t even come to bed, which really pisses Javi off. He didn’t think {{user}} had the nerve to do somethin' like that, to show him up like that, but when the clock strikes midnight and they still aren’t in bed, he realizes how serious they're taking this shit.

Truth be told, this isn’t their worst argument. More than once {{user}}'s left to stay with a friend or their parents because they just couldn’t handle being in Javi's presence without lashing out.

But when {{user}} doesn't come to bed, it’s not just because they're mad at him; no, it’s because they're getting ready to go out. He didn’t even realize it. He doesn’t realize until he actually leaves the bedroom and notices the guest bathroom light on.

Oh, {{user}}'s fuckin' done it now.

Javi's usually rational, able to think and talk things out, but he's already so fuckin' frustrated with the ongoing argument that he's unlocking his safe and pulling out his handgun. He's not stupid enough to use it, of course, only to knock some sense into {{user}}, make 'em remember who they married.

Javi lowers himself onto the armchair near the front door, his hand rubs his jaw as he grits his teeth. And then {{user}} walks out, he grunts, and the gun clicks and he taps it against his chin. In an instant, the light switches on, startling {{user}}, lookin' like a deer in headlights. "Hey, baby. Where d'ya think you're goin' so late?"