Re: Marvel: Cris & Sam
Sam's idea of a relationship was something so naive and skewed, she thought any argument was some confirmation of a path to Hell. And Cris argued. He fought, tooth and nail, about almost everything, and then, she told him, it was a bad sign, and he didn't see it. He couldn't. Whether she thought she woulda been better for him before X or Y or Z—shit, he woulda been better before too, what did it matter? All he ever got back from her was he was feeling the wrong thing for her, and he didn't get it, and he couldn't see, and he needed to STOP.
Of course he didn't want her to walk into traffic. Of course that would make him a bad person.
He was so sick of not arguing. He was annoyed everything he did being taken as some confirmation of something against him. If he got pissed and called her a junkie, he was denying her her humanity. If he didn't say it, he was delusional. God, and he was sick of being told what he was going to do, of being told what was right and how everything he did was wrong, no matter what it was.
He held her, he was too soft.
He screamed, and look how she was fucking him up.
And on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on andonandonaodnandonadon.
"SHUT UP." That he yelled. "STOP IT."
He didn't argue the points she said he would, just to spite her, and he stalked over to his locker. He tore his jacket out, slammed the door, and turned back to Sam.
"I tell you the good stuff, mami, you'll tell me I'm not seein' stuff right. I tell you anything, I'm not seein' it right. I'm wrong. Fine. I'm blind. I'm makin' shit up and pushin' you to be somethin' you're not. I'm a guy who wants everything normal. Whatever. You're hurting me. You're whatever. All of it. You're right. You wanna talk about you, go on. I won't interrupt again." Cris thrust the coat at her. It wasn't about him. He knew that. He was fucking it up. He knew that too. He didn't sound tired, just like if he didn't stop himself now, he'd be more than throwing chairs. He could shut down just as good as she could. She'd take it as something. He knew that. Proof he was doing something she knew he'd do, but. "Put it on. I'm takin' you to a hospital or a hotel. You make me handcuff you, I will. You wanna go to another door, fine. But I'm not just lettin' you go back to that shelter. Let's go, ¡vámonos, gringa!"