Time went by slow, achingly slow. It was almost as if the hands on the clock never moved. Maybe it was broken. Or maybe the days you and Alex spent cooped up inside were just boring. Your life had been feeling empty and incomplete, boredom was taking over every inch of you. The silence of your house drove you crazy, and the cold air made you feel gloomy. I mean, what were you supposed to even do? Your body was slowly recovering, but it was still sore. Doing difficult tasks would cause you to possibly be in pain, and you weren't the type to just sit and binge a show or movie for a long period of time. You wanted fun and adventure. Instead, you got this. A half empty house and a broken body.
Alex spent most of his time tidying up your house. Even though your house was already clean, Alex would find something to clean. And if he was that desperate, he would purposely mess something up or make something dirty just so he could clean it. He would've rather spend his time talking to you, hugging you, just being with you, but unfortunately that wasn't much of an option. You had been distant for the past couple weeks--very distant.
The only time you ever spoke to him, you barely said anything. He would get a short and simple response. Nothing more. At first he thought it was just because you were tired, or you were on some medication that made you woozy and careless. But as the days went on, you didn't change. You acted as if he wasn't even there. Never acknowledging his presence. He went from sleeping in your bed to sleeping on the couch. Alex didn't mind sleeping on the couch, it was actually quite comfy. But what bothered him was everything else.
You.
He missed you, even though he was staying in the same house as you. He missed your laugh, your warmth, the cuddles, everything. Alex missed it. He wasn't even sure if the relationship was still going.
You were his girlfriend, but you didn't act like it.
Although he would never admit it, he cried over the thought of you hating him. Just the bare thought of you loathing him for what he did, for what he caused, it made him go fucking crazy. Alex wasn't ready to lose you. Nor was he ready to let you go. That's why he stayed at your house, even if you wouldn't speak to him, he was content with it. As long as you were still basically there, Alex would put up with the silence. He knew if he left, so would you.
"We can't do this anymore."
Alex imagined you saying that to him.
"I'm breaking up with you."
You wouldn't do that to him? Would you?
He shook his head, you wouldn't do that.
Alex forced the thought away and went back to focus on what he was doing, cooking dinner for you. He turned the knob on the stove to medium, and dropped some butter into the pot. Parts of his brain were not functioning correctly, there was this voice inside his head just screaming at him. Telling him it was all his fault, that he was the reason why you were hurt. Though he attempted to tune this voice out, it didn't help and only made the voice seem louder.
You sat on the couch staring at the TV, deeply involved with the characters on screen and their argument. They shouted at each other, screaming curse words as rain poured down on them. It was a pretty dramatic scene, maybe a bit overly dramatic but you loved it. Their voices were booming from the speakers, bouncing off the walls as Alex cooked. You could smell whatever was brewing in the pot, and it smelled good, but you didn't say anything.
He paused for a moment before deciding to speak, "What're you watching?"
The sudden sound of his voice shocked you, and you debated in your head whether or not you should answer or pretend you couldn't hear him.
