PG [Fluff, Angst]
They fight a lot.
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Recently, it's dawned on Taemin that he and Aimee fight more than the average couple. They fight at least every two nights, usually every other night or so.
They always fight about the dumbest things, too. Taemin will say that he's going out, Aimee will say that it's too late or that they had plans, and it all goes downhill. It ends up with Taemin either leaving or locking himself in their bedroom, and Aimee staying on the couch.
Taemin opens the door to their apartment quietly. Aimee's fallen asleep, the TV still turned to a Doctor Who marathon. Taemin feels slightly guilty and walks over to her, gently taking the remote off of the coffee table to turn off the TV.
Aimee seems to sense that he's there and stirs, her eyes fluttering open.
"I'm sorry," she murmurs. "It won't happen again."
"Me too," Taemin says. He feels a pang in his stomach, because he knows that they'll be back at square one tonight again, screaming at each other. It always happens. They fight, they apologize, and then they fight again.
. . .
Taemin's right. He hates it, though, the sad and worn-out look that Aimee's giving him, the screaming that makes his throat hurt, and then going to a hotel to calm down.
Tonight's different, though. It's more violent. Admittedly, Taemin's shoved her a few times and she's slapped him once. Items, like some of Aimee's books and her shoebox of photgraphs, have been thrown at each other.
"I'm leaving," Taemin says, like he does almost every night.
"Fine," Aimee shoots back. "Go ahead."
Taemin grabs his keys and slams the door behind him as he leaves.
. . .
It's three in the morning when Taemin decides to come home. Aimee's sitting on the floor, obsessing over the photographs that have been tossed all over the floor. She's organizing the pile on the floor into chronological order, not caring that they'll probably be ruined by that night. She just needs something to do.
Taemin stares at her for a while. Aimee's hair falls over her eyes, and she's muttering to herself over where each photograph should go. He can see the girl who he fell in love with again.
"Hey," he says quietly.
Aimee's eyes dart up. "Hi," she says.
"I'll help you," he offers, sitting down cross-legged next to her.
"Yeah, okay. They're going in chronological order," Aimee explains. "The dates are written on the back." She straightens out the line of already ordered photographs.
. . .
Taemin thinks that that was the best time he'd had with Aimee in a long while. There's no arguing, and she even smiled and laughed for once.
He only hopes that it'll last.
"There," Aimee says proudly. "We're done." She raises her hand up for a high-five, but Taemin just takes it and pulls her into him.
"I love you," he says quietly. He feels her tense beside him. It's been a long time, longer than either of them can remember, since they last said that.
"I love you, too," Aimee whispers.
