Mature people

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    — That is not how do mature people act like!

    — And how do they do, Angela?

    Michael gave in to the provocation, clenching his teeth in return.

   — Do they leave the extremes and make them the guilty ones? Shift out the responsibilities, unable to control their own emotions?

   — Don't make yourself appear like an innocent. You are the founder, the main man, and still act like a little boy gotten hit in a sandbox, — she snorted, making a gloomy face and crossing her arms over the chest angrily.

   Michael was aware of this pose too well. She isn't defending herself anymore, now she attacks and hits below the belt. He has perfectly known that some of very catlike claws and fangs are up to be the further weapon, but this time the strike was too painful. So he couldn't hold it down anymore and also hissed:

    — Yes, I AM a little boy! Yes, I do be like that, and I can't change that, and that is something you are pretty informed about. Now you are the boss. You may dictate and have the power on all of us. But how do you turn out being better than me, if we can't even discuss it properly?

    — The way I never make mistakes, so we have nothing left to discuss, actually, — the manager replied, making a threatening step to his side.

   — You never allow yourself to make them, — ignoring the proudly ifted chin and tightly clenched fists, Michael grabbed her by the shoulder and looked deeply into her eyes, full of internal rage, — You exhaust yourself. Over-working, over-eating, vomiting because of nerves. You are still sixteen years old, Angеla Gossоw.

    The eyes shortly flashed with wetness. Angela's face paled.

   —...How could you, — she slowly growled through her sealed lips before pushing him back and suddenly getting closer, — So that was you, the one I spent half of my life with? The one I dreamed to marry with so badly?

— You have lost control. Admit it, — the man managed to grab her flying arms, but slipped back, resisting the pressure. He knew she was very strong physically. But not always that much well-doing mentally.

   Unfortunately, there was a sofa a couple of steps further, and a second of lost vigilance was more that enough for the fortress to fall, being forcefully pushed in the torso.

   — I will sort this out by myself, — flourishly Angela sat on his knees, planning to smash him with all her weight. She didn't realize he was too big, and suddenly got in a tight but gentle grip, with both her arms twisted behind the back reliably.

   — So? How is it going? — Michael grinned mercilessly, trying to calm the struggling tangle of nerves and anger, — Are you winning, sorting out?

   — That's not... Your... F****ng... Buisiness, — she minted into his chest, almost suffocating. The poison was still seething through her veins, encouraging to shout something rude, but somewhy this position didn't seem as humilating, as seemed the verbal one.

    — So whose then? — Michael got up and turned over his 'opponent', hanging from above with all his well-built massive body, — I will never betray you to anyone, never even ask. Especially to get torn apart by your freaking inner demons.

    Still having difficulty catching her breath, Angela found herself lying under him and looking into the dearest face, which was already covered in sweat, in great confusion. Him, gone for several touring months and long forgotten in another worthless fight and unbearable separation. His black sparkling eyes without a single shadow of anger, sticky dark hair, and a goddamly adorable expression on the very handsome face.

    — Possessor. — she breathed out into his lips, intonated very differently.
    — Possessor, — he agreed, pressing hers softly, but persistenly.