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Jon knew Russell had had a bad day. There were many signs. Ways of warning Jon to stay away, because Russell was restless and there was no telling what could happen. But did Jon listen? No.
The blonde haired man was sat on a barstool, his laptop placed on the kitchen island as he typed away at it furiously. Jon was also in the kitchen, pretending to prepare dinner whilst he was stealing glances at the angry man.
"Are you okay, Russ?" Jon called as he peeled a potato. Russell grunted. Jon must admit: he was a little disappointed at the lack of proper response.
"... I'm doing mashed potatoes and sausages for dinner... Your favourite." Jon hesitated as he noticed Russell roll his eyes. Russell never rolled his eyes. Jon was extremely annoyed. He was going through the effort to make Russell a meat-filled dinner - even though Jon is a vegan and will only end up eating mashed potato - and even though he cooked all the time, Russell didn't seem to appreciate it. Just the thought of this made Jon's blood boil.
"You can make dinner yourself if you like?" Jon spoke sarcastically as he finished peeling the potato and sticking it in a pot with the others. Russell visibly curled his hands into fists this time.
"Shut up, Jon. I'm trying to concentrate." He growled through clenched teeth. Jon was taken aback. Why was his boyfriend so angry? What was the problem?
"What's up, Russ? Come on, this is killing me!" Jon sulked. Russell didn't answer, just carried on typing. Jon sighed. He assumed he would be eating dinner alone that evening.
And he was right. Russell had ignored him all night. Jon had washed up, dried, cleaned the entire flat and dusted around the blonde haired man, not once hearing the usual comment of 'let me help you Jon' or 'you don't have to do all that, darling'.
Nevertheless, Jon shuffled into the living room at 8pm, placing a cup of tea exactly how Russell liked it on the coffee table, leaning in to give Russell a kiss. But Russell moved away, leaving Jon in shock having kissed thin air.
"Russell..." Jon whispered in hurt, his face contorted into an expression of sadness and betrayal. Russell finally looked up, his ocean eyes locking with Jon's chestnut pained ones.
"I'm busy, alright, Jon? Maybe later." He mumbled. Jon nodded and stepped back, leaving the room as quickly as he could in humiliation. He let a tear slip over his cheek as he opened the bedroom door and fell onto the bed, burying his face into the pillow.
***
Jon was awoken by the sound of the kettle boiling. He slowly cracked his eyes open, realising that he'd slept in his clothes from the day before. For a second, he worried that Russell hadn't slept at all, but the sheets were ruffled and opened on Russell's side of the bed; he'd clearly snuck in at some point and slept next to the fully-clothed Jon.
The fact that Russell had slept next to him at all made Jon smile. He'd guessed that Russell would take the couch, judging by how he hated Jon's guts yesterday.
