"Are you going to be sitting there in silence like a kid, y/n?!"
He had enough, enough of your attitudes, of you snappy answers early in the morning, in trainings, in the mess halls. He was tired of your fights that the past months became from once a week, to almost twice a day. Tired of having daily complaints about your partnership, uncontrollable rage.
And you, gave him no explanation, nor even an excuse of why you changed so drastically. From being one of the best soldiers in the Unit, to one of the most hated one. He hated how you didn't talk to him. And what you only gave him, were insults and bratty answers. He had enough.
He cared too much to let this shit keep going, he was going to get answers and justifications. He couldn't bare to see this anymore.
"Y/n! I said, say something!"
He looked at you with anger, resentment, he was so done with your attitude that his own principals, rules as the Captain of the unit you were part of, it all seemed to shatter in thousands of pieces. It wasn't for him just a soldier in between soldiers problem anymore, for him this was personal, like if his own was the one committing all this flaws and errors.
He looked down at you, as you sat like if this wasn't bothering you at all.
"What do you want me to say?" Your voice was quiet and harsh.
"Oh no- no, no, no, no, no." He chuckled, more out of frustration than laughter.
"You aren't giving me any of that bullshit of yours anymore, y/n." He stood from his desk, rolling up his sleeves to his elbows as he shaked his head slowly, looking down onto his desk.
He looked up at you again, taking off his hat and placing it down on his chair. "Look at me, kid." He demanded.
You looked up at him with a defiant look. He saw that look, the inexplicable hatred, annoyance in your eyes.
"I'm looking at you."
"Don't talk to me that way."
"That way how?!"
He slammed his hands on the desk, shutting you up immediately.
"Like if you were in the right to do so, brat." He mumbled, taking a deep breath to calm himself down.
He brushed a hand through his hair, probably just out of stress, he had eyebags under his eyes, he looked tired, and he knew you were the cause of all his stress from the past few months.
"I'm not being a brat."
"Oh no? And what do you call this then?" He pointed at you from head to toes with his extended hand.
"Me?!" You retorted. It was indeed you, even if you were too blinded to accept that you weren't being yourself.
"Oh no, it's not you, Doll. And I'm gonna get an answer of what has gotten into you for you to become such a disrespectful, dishonored and disgusting brat."
You hushed, looking away from him, he was so irritating, you thought.
"Don't hush me." He snapped, walking almost in loud steps around his desk and grabbing you face with one of his hands, roughly making you look up.
"Let go of me!" You snapped back, trying to move his hand away with a slap.
He slapped your hand roughly, "Don't!" With the hand you tried to snap, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, making you stand up with a whince of pain.
"Ou-ouch-! Fucking bastard let go!" You screamed, it hurt and that made you angry.
"Watch. Your. Words, disrespectful brat." Price was more than done.
