Your Basic, Cliché Love Story (Completed)

~ Three ~

~ Three ~

"How can you be so inconsiderate? I don't understand how one single person can be so selfish!" I screamed into his face. I probably copied his own expressions perfectly. His eyebrows were furrowed and flames raged in his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his lips pursed, and his fists clenched.

We had been at it for the last fifteen minutes. If we had been watching from the outside, we would have laughed at the pathetic stances we were taking. How our feet were inches apart and our faces full of fury. 

Later, if you asked me how we got to be in this fight.. I'd shrug. Because it started out so small- a tiny detail. It'd been building up.. Even the strongest person can't keep their feelings hidden forever. It's like someone shaking a soda bottle. It'll fizz up, but it'll only explode when you unscrew it. It doesn't matter if you take the cap completely off or just twist it a bit. The pressure accumulates, much like Tristan and I's emotions had.

"Me? I'm the selfish one? Oh yeah sure! I'm the one working my butt off every single freaking day just to make a few girls happy! What are you doing, Tatiana?" He shot back angrily.

That's when I knew this fight was serious. Tristan never called me Tatiana. It was always 'Taz' or 'T'. It was like an unspoken rule, Tris was the only one allowed to call me 'Taz.. And he'd never call me anything else'. The last time I remembered him calling me Tatiana was over two years ago, right when we first met. After that day, I'd gotten used to not hearing my full name from Tristan. But hearing him say it right now, I felt tears well up in my eyes. 

"About to get a freaking book published! And where has my best friend been the entire time I've been slaving away? Picking up girls left and right, acting like a proper arse! You haven't even been here to support me and it's killing me here, Tristan! But you're too blind to notice, you're too busy soaking up the fact that you have millions of fans. You're not the Tristan I know! I want that Tristan back, not this jerk who could care less about me!" I ranted, tearstains evident on my cheeks. 

"I haven't changed. At all," he growled before pointing to the door. "You know your way out, Tatiana." He punctuated my name.

"You have changed. My best friend would never throw me out over a fight. He'd wait for us to make up and then pop in The Proposal until we were both were laughing so hard, coke came out of our noses. This, right here, this isn't my best friend. Tell the old Tristan I miss him," I wiped away the tears as best as I could before collecting my stuff and walking straight out that door, not once looking back.

~'~'~

The week following 'the fight' could quite possibly equal the worst seven days of my life. Questions were constantly thrown at me--Tristan this, Tristan that. "Did you hear Tristan got overly drunk at a bar and had to get carried out by bodyguards?" "Did you hear that Tristan messed up in the studio?" "Did you hear that Tristan flipped off the paparazzi?" I was definitely tired of it.

The fact that Tristan hadn't even tried to contact me, was the worst of it all. I would have been able to deal with the questions if he had at least called or texted. Or any type of communication, really. James -one of his bandmates- had called me once to ask why Tristan was so cross, but that was the only contact I had with the band at all.

It was as if I had completely dropped off his radar. 

I knew the entire band was heading out in just a few days to do some promo in America. If Tristan and I didn't talk before then, it could very well be the end of our friendship. My book was about to get published and I was going to be traveling around the UK to promote it. He'd be in America to promote his band's new CD and then they were going to start a tour. If we didn't try to patch things up before he left, it'd be over.

The food fights, the late night snack runs, the movie marathons, the shopping trips. Gone.

All that would be left would be the memories. It tore at my heart to think that one pathetic fight could tear it all apart. I couldn't even really pinpoint how the fight started. 

"Tati! Hurry up, you're going to be late for your meeting with your publisher!" Mariah called out as she stuck her head into my room of our shared flat. "Why the long face? Still upset about Tristan?"

"Just a bit. It's like he forgot I exist," I sighed, pushing my short, layered brown hair behind my ear. "And Saving Summer is the only thing people are talking about on Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr. Everything."

"What do you expect? They just won a freaking Grammy. People won't be shutting up about them for a while. And you know that it's impossible for Tristan to forget about you.. You two have been inseparable for the last year. He probably just doesn't know how to talk to you. Maybe you should talk to him," Mariah suggested with a small smile.

"Yeah, I guess. I just feel like it could all just be over at the snap of a finger. I don't think I can handle using him." I sighed, picking my nails and staring intently at the ridges on my fingers.

"Well when you're as in love with him as your are, yeah, losing him would definitely tear you down for a bit. But I don't think one petty argument would end it all," Mariah reassured.

"You weren't there. The things he said.. The things I said.. I've never been in a fight that bad before," I contemplated back to the day it happened. The rage and the anger seeping out from both of us.

"Don't give up on him. You know he's probably waiting for you to make the first move. He might be afraid that he's ruined it all and that you won't want to talk to him. Prove him wrong," Mariah insisted.

"I have to get to work," I changed subjects as I heaved myself up. 

"Talk to him," Mariah instructed.

"Fine. I'll stop by his flat on my way back from my meeting. I'll see you later, Marz."