Parings: Walker x Leah.
W/c: 2,031
Summary: Walker and Leah get into a fight.
'✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵''✵•.¸,✵°✵.｡.✰ ✰.｡.✵°✵,¸.•✵'
THE FLICKER OF THE TV WASHED THE ROOM IN A SOFT GLOW, shadows dancing across the walls. Movie nights were their thing—Walker and Leah had shared plenty of them, slipping into each other's apartments after dark to unwind, laugh, and just be. Simple, easy, comfortable.
But not tonight. Tonight was... different.
The movie had been rolling for almost an hour, background noise more than anything. Blankets were draped over their legs, popcorn forgotten on the coffee table. No talking. No leaning against each other. No little nudges or casual touches. Just silence.
Walker noticed. He always noticed.
At first he told himself it was nothing—maybe she was just tired. Today had been brutal on set with all the stunt work. Hours of falling onto mats, tripping, trying the same move over and over until it landed right. Exhausting, yeah, but Leah hadn't looked drained. If anything, she'd been the opposite—hanging upside down by her knees on the bars, grinning at anyone who passed, challenging herself to handstands during breaks. She was laughing, alive, light.
So why now did she feel so far away?
The silence between them felt like slipping back in time—back to season one, when everything was new and fragile, when they'd been careful with each word, each glance. Timid. Guarded. Distant. He thought they'd left that behind, built something stronger.
Walker's jaw tightened as he looked at her. He didn't like the distance. Didn't like how close she seemed yet just out of reach. And the longer it stretched between them, the harder it became to stay silent.
"You haven't looked at me once tonight. What's wrong?" Walker finally asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.
Leah's eyes stayed locked on the TV, her glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of her nose.
"Nothing."
The word was flat. Dry.
Walker blinked, brows pulling together. "Leah, I've known you for four years. I can tell when you're lying."
"Well, I'm not. So." Her reply came quick, sharp, with a flicker of annoyance tucked into her tone.
He stared at her, confusion clouding his features. He replayed the day in his head—he hadn't snapped at her, hadn't done anything that should've set her off. So where was this coming from?
Without another word, Walker leaned forward, snatched the remote off the coffee table, and paused the movie. The sudden silence filled the room heavier than before.
"Look at me," he said, firmer this time.
Leah hesitated, then finally dragged her gaze away from the screen. Her lips pressed into a tight line, her expression unreadable, almost guarded.
"Why are you pissed?" he asked.
"I'm not pissed—" Leah started, her voice laced with sarcasm.
"Yes, you are," Walker cut in, sharper now. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong, Walker!" she snapped back, her tone rising before she even realized it.
A crooked smile tugged at his mouth, though his eyes were far from amused. "You always do this," he said, shaking his head slightly, the frustration thickening in his voice.
