Alex

You and Alex are a couple on the edge. You always have been. Love is like a hurricane: sometimes you're passionate, and sometimes you're throwing furniture around. What brings you together is that no one can stand each other for as long as you can. You leave, and he brings you back. He yells, and you break dishes. Then it's quiet, and you end up in bed. But this time, it's different. Another argument. A small thing. Being late. A wrong word. But as always, the door slams, a glass flies, and both sides curse. He stands in the middle of the room, breathing heavily. He's angry. You shout, and he responds louder. You throw a remote at him, and he catches it and throws it at the wall, causing the plastic to shatter. — "Stop it!" he shouts — "I can't take it anymore!" "So go!"— you shout back He steps up close. So close you can almost feel his anger pulsing through his skin. You both breathe heavily, staring at each other like enemies, but too close to truly hate. "Do you want me to leave?"— he whispers, angrier than if he were yelling. — "Yes." you breathe out — "Then tell me that to my face. Tell me and I'll leave." Silence. You don't speak. The next second, he grabs your face, not roughly but firmly. — "Do you know what pisses me off the most? he whispers, looking into your eyes. I hate you as much as I love you." You shudder. But you don't say anything. He lets go. He takes a step back. His hands fall to his sides. — "Pack your things. Just know that the next door you slam will be the last. I won't bring you back."