“Oh my god, would you look at me for once?”

It’s late. Eleven P.M to be exact. They are sitting down on his bed.

“Jesus,” she sighs. “You could look at me when you tell me you love me. It wouldn’t kill you.”

He looks up. Her face is frustrated and strained. There is a hint of searching in her expression. She looks at him intensely, saying nothing.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, looking down again.

She grabs his arm.

“What happened to you?” she asks. “You’re not high or drunk or anything, right?”

“No.” he says, quietly.

“Then what?” she asks, her voice cracking. “When are you going to go back to your old self?”

He says nothing.

“Do you hear me?!” she asks, tears welling in her eyes. “Are you deaf or something?”

He shakes his head.

“What then?” she asks, weeping now. “How am I supposed to get you to talk to me again? All of tonight, you didn’t say a word. All my friends wanted to know what was wrong with you. It was so embarrassing! You didn’t eat anything or have a drink. You were silent the whole night! What the hell happened?”

He looks her in the eyes. She stumbles back a little since his look is so intense. His face is stone and he says nothing. She cries a little and he takes a breath in.

“Maybe I don’t like your friends.” He says.

“What?!” she shrieks, furiously. “You don’t even know them! You just met them!”

“They’re not like they used to be.” He sighs.

“You never knew them before tonight, did you?” she cries, he voice cracking again. “You don’t know who they are or anything! Why are you judging them?!”

“How long have you known me?” he asks.

“What?”

“Seriously.” He says, smiling a little. “How long?”

“Um…” she ponders for a moment. “Maybe two months. But ever since a couple of weeks ago, you’ve been so…different.”

“Why are you judging me?” he asks.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve only known me for a short while. We never met before two months ago. How can you act as though you’ve known me my whole life?”

“Because I love you.” She says, wiping her tears. “And you love me too. I know you do.”

“You don’t know anything.” He says.

She is taken aback by his comment. She stumbles backwards a little and looks him in the face, very intensely. He looks at her the same way as if to say “right-back-at-you”.

“I still love you…” she whispers.

“I care about you.” He replies.

“But you don’t…love me?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. He stands and crosses the room to kiss her forehead, but she storms out before he can. She grabs her purse from the front hallway and puts on her heels. She shoots him a quick glare before slamming the door. She looks angry and sad and…relieved.

She slams the door and he hears her clack down the hall. He is left alone in silence.

Just the way he likes it.