𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘, ᵁᴺᴰᴱᴿᴳᴿᴼᵁᴺᴰ ᴿᴬᴾᴾᴱᴿˢ & ᴿᴬᴾᴾᴱᴿˢ

ARGUING, 017

IN WHICH... HE AND HIS GIRLFRIEND GET INTO A PETTY ARGUMENT.

"YO, NAMIL, WHY YOU ALWAYS GOTTA CRITICIZE MY COOKING?"

I snapped, throwing the spatula into the sink. "At least I'm tryin'!"

Namil rolled his eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter with that smug look on his face. "Y/N, it's not just the cooking. You can't even clean right. This place looks like a damn tornado hit it."

"Man, fuck you, Namil," I shot back, my voice rising. "You ain't perfect either!"

We went back and forth, voices echoing through the apartment, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. It was all so petty, so stupid. But we were both too stubborn to back down.

Then, in the heat of the moment, I said something I couldn't take back. "That's why your career won't go anywhere." As soon as the words left my mouth, I slapped my hand over it, but it was too late. The room fell silent.

Namil's eyes darkened, and I could see the hurt in them. "What the fuck did you just say?"

"Namil, I didn't mean it—"

"Get out. Now," he said, voice low and cold. He started calling me names, tearing me down with every word. "You useless fucking bitch. Can't do anything right. Get the fuck outta my house."

I grabbed my things and left, tears streaming down my face.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

I CRASHED AT MY FRIEND KEISHA's
PLACE.

She was the only one who'd understand. But even she couldn't pull me out of the funk I was in. I stopped eating, stopped talking. Just stayed in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying that night over and over.

"Y/N, you gotta eat something," Keisha said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "This ain't you."

"Nothin' matters, Keisha," I mumbled. "I fucked everything up."

Keisha must've told Namil what was going on, 'cause a few days later, I heard a knock on the door. I didn't bother getting up, figuring it was just another one of Keisha's attempts to get me to eat. But then I heard his voice.

"Y/N, open the door."

My heart skipped a beat. What was he doing here? I dragged myself out of bed and opened the door to find Namil standing there, looking more worried than angry.

"Come on, let's go," he said, reaching for my arm.

"Nah, I ain't goin' nowhere with you," I protested, trying to pull away.

But Namil wasn't having it. He scooped me up and carried me out to his car, despite my weak attempts to fight him off. "I fucked up, okay? I'm sorry," he said, his voice strained. "But you need to come home."

I stopped struggling and let him carry me. As much as I hated to admit it, being in his arms felt right. Maybe we both needed a second chance to make things right.

Namil carefully placed me in the passenger seat and buckled me in. As he drove, the silence between us was heavy. I stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur past.

"You know, I didn't mean what I said," I finally whispered, breaking the silence. "About your career. I was just mad."

Namil sighed, gripping the steering wheel tighter. "I know, Y/N. But it still hurt. We both said things we shouldn't have."

I nodded, biting my lip. "Yeah, we did."

We pulled up to his apartment, and he helped me out of the car, guiding me inside. The place looked the same as when I left, but it felt different. Warmer, maybe. Or maybe I was just imagining things.

Namil sat me down on the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, he came back with a plate of my favorite food—mac and cheese with a side of collard greens. My stomach growled at the sight of it, reminding me how long it had been since I'd eaten a proper meal.

"Here," he said, handing me the plate. "Eat."

I took the plate, feeling a lump in my throat. "Thanks, Namil."

We sat in silence as I ate, the tension slowly melting away. When I finished, he took the plate and set it aside before sitting next to me.

"Look, Y/N," he began, taking my hand in his. "I don't want to keep fighting over stupid shit. I love you, and I want us to work."

Tears welled up in my eyes. "I love you too, Namil. I don't want to lose you."

He pulled me into a tight hug, and for the first time in days, I felt a glimmer of hope. We sat there, holding each other, letting the past slip away.

"We'll figure this out," he said softly. "Together."

I nodded, resting my head on his shoulder. "Yeah, together."