Stories For the Damned

Can He Change? (Steve Haines, GTA V)

Your boyfriend, Steve, was a very, very arrogant man.

His ego was inflated far more than you believed to be humanly possible, for how could someone lack any humility? Any notion that he was wrong in any way was met with strong denial and even psychopathic rants.

And from the moment you met him, he bragged, insisted that he was the head of some part of the FIB, clearly showing no secrecy about his affiliation with the government. He had even used the fact as a pickup line. You had also found his closet to be full of FIB windbreakers and t-shirts.

He was manipulative, selfish, callous, and overconfident.

So, why did you like him?

Honestly, you hadn't figured it out yet.

Maybe it was the way he managed to tone down his shitty comebacks and controlling nature when around you.

Perhaps it was the way you were the first person to show an interest in him in a relationship that didn't revolve around money.

He was tolerable and he had sort of grown on you in the past month or two which was good and all. Steve was fit, strong, and muscular. His time in the gym (another thing fueled by his ego) had gifted him with an attractiveness that most men his age didn't have.

And although he did have the stamina of a virgin the first time he smooth-talked himself into your pants, he had sort of proven himself since then. Taking the saying 'practice makes perfect' quite literally, he was always coming to you with lewd comments and suggestions when he wanted something.

Like now.

You both sat on the couch in your shared apartment, something that was paid for mostly by his decorated career and then your simple office job.

Flipping through the channels, you sighed, foolishly leaning into him as he talked about some recent job with a nerve gas...? Or something of the like, honestly you believed he just liked to hear himself talk. All you knew was that there was a news story about a perfume robbery that sounded somewhat similar to what he was saying.

"The place was filled with monkeys."

"...What?" you said, his words catching your attention.

"They were banging at the cages, screeching. It's very distracting when you're trying to save the country!"

"Steven..." you started, almost about to say something about the odd insensitivity of his comment. But you decided to let it go.

"You know...I got shot."

"Uh huh..." you said mindlessly, turning to Fame or Shame. You had helped him take care of his wound for chrissake. He kept saying 'I got shot' as if it was a right of passage to being a quote 'true American'.

"Babe, and I cannot stress this enough, you should be grateful to be here with me. The badass motherfucker who planned a mission to keep nerve gas from terrorists and then acted in it!"

You rolled your eyes.

"I was the sole leader on an operation against those fuckers at the IAA. Yeah, I'm probably due for another award or medal or whatever shit they give out now."

"Oh great," you said, sarcastically. "I'm so lucky to be here...with you."

"Exactly! So...what's my reward?"

You were on the fence. You could either leave this arrogant and probably narcissistic fool on the couch and save yourself the potential mental anguish....or you could entertain this idiot that you really liked for some reason. "Reward?"