You stare at the lit candle in front of you, watching the flame dance in the darkness of your kitchen surrounded by utensils and two plates of food, one in front of you and the other across from you. It's the twentieth of May. The day marking your two year anniversary with Michael.
Of course, he forgot.
You should have expected it, he is a very forgetful person and it's not entirely his fault because he's been busy with the band lately.
But you are angry, upset, and a whole bunch of emotions that are just bubbling up inside of you and threatening to surface as either tears or shouts. That's why you're still sitting at the table, half an hour past the time Michael was meant to be here and wearing a beautiful (uncomfortable) black dress, deciding whether to scream, cry, or just flat out leave.
Suddenly you hear the jingle of keys in the lock at the front door. You don't bother to stand up or even glance up as Michael steps though the door. The kitchen is flooded with light and you blink, realizing how pathetic you look in front of your uneaten food.
"Babe, I'm-"
He stops, a little gasp escaping him when his eyes land on you. You refuse to give him any attention, at least for the time being, afraid you'll burst into hysterics or start a heated argument, the latter being something you've always hated and avoided. You do not want to be dramatic, but you can't help it when the tears start to slip down your face and you know they won't be stopping soon. They spatter the table cloth and land on your cold dinner.
"Oh my God. I totally forgot. I'm such an asshole. Baby, I'm so so sorry, please don't cry."
He lunges forward, dropping everything in his hands to wrap you tight against his chest. Without melting into his embrace like usual, you let the tears rush down your face as you push your chair back. Michael takes a step away from you, gripping his bright hair in his fingers. You simply walk to the sink with your dish of food, scooping it into the trashcan and cleaning your plate.
"No, don't throw that out. It looked so fancy, baby. And you are so dressed up and beautiful. All for me, all for our special day. God, I'm a terrible boyfriend. Please say something, angel, please."
You just shake your head, still not trusting your voice. His apologies are so old and tired to you now. He's acted like you're so far down on his list lately that it hurts. Everything seems to come before you these days, especially the band, and you're tired of it. He trails after you like a puppy while you clear the table of the evidence of your attempt at a romantic date. His whimpered words and offers to help make you angrier, but only because it's so hard to stay mad at him.
Finally, you finish the dishes and make your way towards the bedroom, Michael on your heels.
"What can I do? Tell me what I can do to fix this. I screwed up big time, how do I make it better?"
That's when you snap, whipping around to face him and meet his eyes for the first time tonight. The moment you see the sorrow and love laced in his green orbs, your heart thumps, but you shake it off. This time he can't sway you with his innocent expressions. You have something to say.
"That's not how it supposed to work, Michael."
You ignore the hurt and shock in his eyes, both from the fact you said something and that you used his real first name, which you never do.
"You can't just fuck up, expect me to give you a pass, and teach you how to fix it. How the hell is that fair to me? That's not a relationship, that's a dating counselor. And maybe you'd be better off getting one of those rather than having to put up with me. I'm just another check off your list either way. Why not get rid of one more chore? That way, you can get all famous and shit then just have all the girls you could ever want. Go focus on your stupid fucking band and don't have to worry about being tied down and remembering anniversaries. Much better."
The words rush out of your mouth faster than you can think, but you sharply turn back around to reach for one of your old sweatshirts and a pair of yoga pants. Before you can make a move into the bathroom to change, Michael blocks the doorway. Instead of the sadness and sympathy you are so accustom to, you see fire in his eyes.
"Stupid band? This band has only been my goal since I was six years old and now that it's finally happening, I have to spend more time on it. I'm sorry my shitty childhood dreams get in the way of our relationship sometimes, but that's just the way it is gonna be. And you know what? If you don't like that, you can just rethink why you want to be with me anyway."
His last sentence hits you like a freight train. You knew it. It's always been the band before you. You don't deserve that. You deserve someone who will put you first and who'll remember a fucking anniversary. You love Michael so much, but right now, logical thinking long gone, you give up. The words you fire back come out much weaker then you intend, but they reach him nonetheless.
"You're absolutely right. Sorry for being in your way and wasting an entire two years."
His eyes widen, but you don't bother to wait for his response. You spin around once again, tucking your change of clothes under your arm and swinging the bedroom door open without looking back.
"No!"
You hear a strangled whimper behind you, along with heavy footsteps, but your bare feet carry you all the way down the stairs and to the front door of your apartment.
Despair courses through you, tears staining the floor around you while you struggle to reach the door without caving.
Just as your hand touches the cold handle, you freeze when you hear him.
"Please don't go, baby."
His hoarse whisper is full of regret and sincerity, and at that moment, you know you're not going anywhere. Your shoulders slump, not facing him just yet but letting the contents of your hands hit the floor. He notices he has your attention, talking faster and more pleading now. You can tell by the sound of his voice he's on the verge of tears and is kneeling on the ground.
"I can't live without you. You are my dream. I'd take spending my life with you over the band in a heartbeat. I love you. I love you so much and I'm sorry I don't tell you enough. I can't- I need you, please don't leave me."
He chokes, his voice causing your knees to buckle and you crumple against the door where you stand. The soft sounds of his feet making their way towards you are accompanied with your quiet sobs as they start all over again. His body falls into yours, holding you as close to his chest as possible.
"Please don't go. Don't ever go. Fuck, I love you so much I don't know what I'd do with myself if you left."
He presses kisses to your hair, continuing to mumble precious words to you while you try desperately to stop crying.
"I can't leave."
You mutter brokenly, twisting to see his loving eyes looking down on you.
"I'm so in love with you, Mikey. I'm sorry for getting in the way. I know it's your dream and it means the world to you. I'll wait as long as you need. I couldn't leave you even if I tried."
A cry escapes his plump lips as he leans down to kiss yours. You sigh against him, happy to finally have something stop your outbursts.
"Don't you-"
He places a kiss to your cheek,
"Ever think-"
Another kiss just below your bottom lip,
"You are in my way. I never should have said that. You're my number one, screw the band. I promise, no more forgetting."
You nod as he caresses your face in his gentle hands, sitting up to meet his lips again. He wipes your damp tears with the pads of his thumbs while kissing you sweeter than he ever has before.
