That Fear and Hate Could be So Strong

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Chris was staring at himself at the bathroom mirror. His knuckles still a little red and with a bit of bruising from punching Tiffany's ex-husband. The lines on his forehead and in-between his eyebrows had ceased to fade even after Mike had been long gone.

Just outside, Tiffany was standing, her left fist suspended a few inches off his bedroom's bath door. Chris had been inside for a while now. The knock came, but there was no reply. A second knock came again. She then heard water ran from the faucet.

After a while, Chris emerged from the door, reluctant to look her in the eye. Tiffany followed as he sat on the edge of the bed. Nothing can be heard but their heavy sighs.

She held his banged up hand, tracing her pointer finger on its knuckles. "So..."

"I screwed up. Was so pissed I ended up punching him." Tiffany stood to rummage through her bag as Chris continued speaking. "I might be tomorrow's entertainment headline."

When she sat back down beside him, she had ointment and some cotton swabs in her hands. She tended to his mild bruise. "I doubt that," she finally said. There's an unmistakable calm in her voice. When she raised her gaze at him, she could see him questioning. "It's just that I don't think he'd be leaking whatever happened outside. He didn't mention our names to the press. It was simply a blind item. So, I dunno. I feel like he won't be blubbering to the paps."

Chris shook his head. He wasn't sure if he'd agree with Tiffany but he chose not to speak. He grabbed her and enveloped her in his arms. His heart beating fast. "I'm sorry. It seems I just made matters worse."

She held him tight by the neck and planted a kiss on his cheek. With their cheeks married, her breath breathing near his ear, she answered, "We've made our bed." They held each other so tight, her arms around his neck, his embracing her fragile waist. It was as if anyone who would want to tear them apart would fail.

"I'll always be here for you. Always. All ways." Chris transfixed his gaze on her anxious browns. He sealed his words with a soft kiss, his palms moved to cup her jaws.

"Chris," was the only word that would escape Tiffany's lips. Her heart was calm. Her mind was still, despite the fact that their present problem may escalate soon.

"I promise I won't allow anything bad to happen to you."

He didn't have to say anything more. Tiffany knew he would perpetually have her back. He had done so for forever and until now, even after the rumors, no one knew she existed and was still very much a part, if not the most significant, part of his life.

"But you gotta promise me one more thing." With warmth, she ran her fingers through Chris's hair.

He answered her with another gentle kiss. Chris stared deep into her eyes while he brushed the length of her arms with reassurance.

"Promise that nothing bad would ever happen to you, either."

They were now lying down on the bed, facing each other. "I'm willing to jump on top of the grenade if it means I'd spare you from the fragments."

Tiffany instantly realized his reference. So although she knew he was being serious, she burst into adorable giggles. Chris's heart thawed into mere marshmallow, seeing her jolly amidst the ensuing chaos. There was nothing else he hoped for than for Tiffany to be happy at all times.

She planted a smack on his forehead. "My Steve," then she giggled again, her eyes couldn't hide their flicker.

Chris took one of her hands and kissed it. "My Peggy."

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