"FUCK YOU!" you throw your hands up in the air and start walking away.
Vox growls and grabs you by the wrist. "I never said you could leave!" he yanks you back in the kitchen forcefully, accidentally causing you to bump into the side of the counter.
"Agh!" you clutch your stomach in pain. "Fuck...you..."
Vox rolls his eyes but pauses when seeing the genuine pain in your eyes. He sighs. "Come here," he opens his arms, inviting you to hug him.
You narrow your eyes at him, opening your mouth to insult him. He pulls you into a hug before you can speak. Probably for the best, though.
He squeezes you tightly, yet possessively, in a way that indicates you to hug him back. You hold back a scoff and reluctantly hug him.
"I don't like it when we fight..." he mumbles in your hair, inhaling your scent. It calms him, strangely.
"Hmhm..." you hum, not really giving two shits at this point.
"You're annoying when you yell, though," he points out in a matter-of-factly tone.
You roll your eyes. "And you're just insufferable."
And not only when we fight.
Vox grumbles, pulling back slightly from the hug, but still keeping you in his arms. "I think it's just best if you pretend to agree," he squeezes your cheek.
He's babying me again, isn't he?
You stare at him for a beat before removing his hand. "I'm going to my room," you say stubbornly, escaping his hug as you rush upstairs before he can stop you.
"I think it's best if you just pretend to agree!" you echo in a mocking tone. You let out a noise that's a mix between a groan and a scream.
There's no other way to say it; you were fucking fed up.
About a year ago you gave yourself to that poor excuse of a boyfriend. He met all the expectations your poor, lonely heart craved, which weren't many, if any at all.
That fluttery feeling you had when the two of you first started dating was no longer there. You never got excited whenever he entered a room, or got butterflies when he wrapped his arm around you. Honestly, you just rolled your eyes at all of it.
When the two of you got into your first fight, you saw a side of him you didn't want to see. It was...scary. Scary to a point where you subconsciously thought he might actually hurt you, though he hadn't before. That fear still lingers with you...
He was a selfish, possessive, and greedy psycho.
For almost a year now, you've wanted to break up with him and date someone who wasn't... well, whatever he is.
Okay, fine.
He's crazy.
You don't mean it theoretically or metaphorically... just he is crazy.
He needs help. Help you're not going to supply yourself any longer.
Tonight's the night, though. You've come into realization that if you break up with him now before it gets worse, (if possible) you'll never have to see him again.
You'll be free.
There is a way out, after all.
You mentally pat yourself on the back for your optimism, rather pleased with yourself.
⊹⊹⊹
Tonight's the night!
Vox gleefully pranced down the hallways in his pressed white suit.
It all seemed perfect for Vox. Well, everything except your little predicament earlier, but he's willing to look past that for now.
He can't let any more uncalled surprises come up tonight.
With a skip in his step, Vox digs in his pocket, pulling out a small box. Inside? Your wedding ring.
It was a glittering sight. Solid gold, complete with not one, not two, but three perfect diamonds perched on top. That, showered with Vox's strong lust and desire.
Nothing but the best for you!
Vox isn't going to be taking any chances—he'll do anything in his power for a guaranteed "yes."
He's going to propose.
And you're going to say yes, even if the answer at the time is a no.
⊹⊹⊹
━━⊹━━ THAT NIGHT... ━━⊹━━
You emerge from your room, walking lazily downstairs to see a small note perched on the table.
You almost laugh.
This again? And I suppose he's going to ask to meet me by the sycamore tree, too?
You open the note.
Well, damn.
"(Y/N)- Hope we can look past YOUR previous tantrum. Meet me by the sycamore tree, baby. ~Voxxy"
Guess he actually did want to meet you by the sycamore tree.
Looks like you'll be ending it the place where it all started. How poetic. I mean, he'd be heartbroken, but you didn't really care anymore.
You pull on your boots and slip on a light jacket. "Alright, let's get this over with..."
⊹⊹⊹
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A/N: This is fine... I'm sure they'll just humanely and calmly talk out their feelings to each other by the sycamore tree while sipping tea together.
