twenty three | respect

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The only time Crissle talked to Zayn was when she was leaving.

Leaving, as in, going back to the states and doing her job.

She packed her stuff in the suitcase, making mental notes of anything she had to get before her flight back. Zayn was going to be there in a few minutes and he had no idea she was leaving.

Crissle sat on her suitcase and carefully zipped it up, grunting in the process. She hopped off, picking out a t-shirt and leggings for her flight back home.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," because she already knew who it was, she kept putting on her new clothes and ignoring her boyfriend.

"Why?"

"Because," she felt the bed dip as she tied her shoes, "I don't need to be here and you need to get your shit together."

"What did I do?"

"Ask me every question under the fucking sun," she mocked him from last night, getting up and pushing her suitcase off the bed.

"Babe--"

"Don't call me that," she snapped, finally looking at him. Zayn had been looking a right mess lately, but this was the worst. He had a beanie on his head to hide his messy hair and the bags under his eyes were extra dark and larger than before. Zayn was still grieving, and his usually brown skin was pale besides the redness of his eyelids and nose.

"I--" he scratched the back of his neck, "I'm sorry, Cris."

"Sorry doesn't fix what you said about me, Zayn," she crossed her arms over her chest, "you don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

Crissle scoffed. "You don't see how I do so much shit for you, not even as an assistant, but as a girlfriend. Yes, you buy me nice things and take me places, but, you don't ever...bring up a conversation. It's always, 'Wanna go out?' or 'Come to my house' and sometimes, sometimes, I don't want to just have sex with you. It's not all about that. And then, then you think that you have so much control over me--"

"That's not--"

"It is. You literally called me dumb and stupid and you push me away when you're upset. I'm not someone that comes at your call. I'm not a fucking dog, Zayn. Your power over people has gotten to your head and I think you need to calm the fuck down."

"I don't..." Zayn sighed and sat back in the couch, "I don't think like that."

"What happened when we first got into an altercation?"

"I...pushed you."

"Because of what?"

"Because," he sniffled, "because I had felt that you needed to address me with respect."

"Respect."

"Respect my name and that's it. You shouldn't have acted like that--"

"There it goes!" she exclaimed, "there goes the power, the power that made you push me that first time. The same power that made you choke me the second. Power that made you call me out of my name."

"I never called you out--"

"I'm not stupid, I'm not dumb, nor am I scatterbrained. All of those terms apply. You insulted my intelligence and I'm telling you now that if you ever do it again I'm chopping ya dick off and feed it to Harley and Rhino."

Zayn flinched, looking away from her. "Um, okay...I'll just leave you alone."

"Don't do that either, idiot," she frowned, "makes it worse. Just...appreciate me."

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