𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 // 𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐍

𝟶𝟼: 𝚏𝚒𝚡𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝚂𝚃𝙾𝙺𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚈

Friends played quietly in the background while I stood at a far distance, studying the two of them. They were both seated next to each other on the red love seat placed in the centre of the living room, barely paying any mind to the television and what it displayed. The figures across the television screen illuminated the dimly lit room with its vibrant colors and the soft sound pooling out from the speakers was the only thing that could be heard, aside from the impact of her fingernails tapping away frantically at her phone screen. It was movie night for this couple, yet one participant of the relationship was more focused on the screen she held in her hand rather than the one that provided just as much entertainment, even more.

I found myself focusing more on the sitcom than my task at hand instead, because I seemed to be enjoying this weeks episode more than they both had been. Season 10, episode 15 — The One Where Estelle Dies. Ross tries to win back Rachel's job with her former fashion employer; Phoebe tries to keep Joey from learning about his agent's death; Monica and Chandler make a horrifying discovery. A classic.

"Would it kill you to get off the phone and try to enjoy something with me for once?" The man beside her retorted with a sharp tone at the bass of his voice.

Throughout the night, I could tell he was sitting on edge. He didn't seem to care about the fact that she was entertaining someone else, he knew, but refused to come to terms with it so he wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of his feelings head on. So he wouldn't have to deal with the though of losing her for good, so he instead tries to win her back from someone she didn't even belong to in the first place. Of all the signs that could've made him snap on occasions beforehand, it was the constant clicking noise her lengthy acrylic nails made when it came in contact with the phone screen that made him finally grow a pair to say something.

Tonight was their anniversary. Four months, two weeks, six days and a rough estimate of about seven to eight hours, tops. It started out like every other typical cliche relationship. Boy meets girl, calls it love at first sight, displays too much public display of affection as if they're trying to convince the world that they're happier with each other until time gets in the way of that. You see someone and all of a sudden you're taking some sort of attraction to them. When asked directly most would claim that it was their personality that sparked their interest, or even the way they carried themselves.

He thought it would've been a smart idea for them to watch a series of shows that they both love together in hopes of repairing the void in their once inseparable bond. One month, three weeks, two days, and 14 hours he had known. He had seen the constant acts of infidelity displayed before him on numerous occasions but refused to accept the fact of the matter. He was at war with himself for something he had no control over, something that had nothing to do with him. At war with himself for a situation he knew had no happy ending.
I was here to see that through.

Still, he received nothing from her. Her eyes had only averted themselves from her phone to give him an apathetic look and within the next two seconds she scoffed softly and reverted her focus back to the screen. He sat and stared at her for a while as if he was searching for an answer.

"Why couldn't she have loved you more, right? What is it that he has that you don't?"

It was a feeling I knew all too well. A feeling that often times left me lost and distraught, sometimes even vengeful.

A feeling that was always his fucking fault, too. I felt her boyfriend's pain. It was the reason why I was even here in the first place.