You are sitting in the Mcdonald's drive through. You and Harry had fought... and it was your fault. Truth is, you had a really shitty day at work. You couldn't exactly put your finger on what was so shitty about it. It was just one of those days. Everything was wrong. And you were frustrated, and you took it out on Harry. You didn't mean to. It just... happened.
It started with you coming home, mumbling swear words under your breath, and slamming the door shut unnecessarily hard. All he did was ask you what was wrong. Usually you vented to him about any and everything that's been bothering you for a good hour. Today you really just didn't feel like talking.
"Nothing."
It came out harsher than you intended. You felt guilty but the mixture of your frustration, and your pride made it impossible to care.
He went quiet and looked at you with a blank, almost confused expression before speaking again.
"Well something has to be wrong. You're obviously angry about something."
His tone was calm, patient, almost cautious, afraid you'd snap any minute.
"Harry, I said it's nothing."
You had said it just as harshly as before.
He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay." And walked away.
With a sigh, you headed, to you and Harry's shared bedroom to find some close to change into for the evening. You opened the drawers and looked for one of Harry's old shirts that you like to wear, and a pair of your shorts. While you were changing, you looked to the corner of the room and see the basket full of you and Harry's dirty clothes. Harry didn't do the laundry. For some reason this just set you off, and that's how the argument started.
You immediately stomped out of your bedroom, screaming your boyfriends name.
"Why are the dirty clothes still in there!?"
"What?"
Harry already sounded exasperated, already knowing that you were going to start something.
"You didn't do the laundry, Harry! I need clean fucking clothes!"
Then Harry got irritated.
"Then do the laundry, Y/N. You have plenty of time it's only 3:17"
He looked at his watch mid sentence to give you the time.
"Harry I'm tired. I don't feel like doing that. I was just at work for 8 hours, you could have at least cleaned the clothes." You all but yelled that time.
"Y/N I had shit to do today too. There aren't even that many clothes in the basket, you can't find something else to wear tomorrow?"
He really wasn't understanding why you were making such a big deal out of this. You really didn't either but you were already on a roll.
"Jesus, Harry! You're so fucking lazy! Why do you expect me to do everything around here?"
That's when he yelled.
"I'm not a fucking mind reader. If you wanted me to do the damn laundry you should have said something. It's not my fault I didn't expect you to come home in such a fucking mood."
At that point you were so done with everything. Maybe you just needed to get out of the house for a little.
You turned away from the island in the kitchen where Harry was leaning, and put your shoes on, heading towards the front door, where this whole thing started.
