Luke

You've been dating for two years, and he is flawless. A tall brunette with perfect posture, impeccable manners, and a smile that makes hearts smolder. Not a single forgotten date, not a single unwashed cup. And today, it finally, truly pissed you off.

You stepped decisively into the living room, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Did you take out the trash?" you asked defiantly.

"Of course, honey, first thing this morning," he answered softly, without looking up from his book.

"And did you do the dishes?!"

"Naturally. Everything is sparkling."

"And did you feed the fish?!" you narrowed your eyes triumphantly, ready to celebrate your victory.

"No," he said calmly.

A satisfied smirk spread across your lips. Finally!

"And why is that?!" you almost shouted, anticipating a grand scandal.

Luke raised his dark eyes to you and slightly arched an eyebrow:

"Because we don't have any fish, sunshine."

You froze. The air left your lungs with a quiet hiss.

"Why are you so perfect?!" you exploded, waving your arms. "There's not even anything to fight with you about! It's just unbearable!"

He chuckled softly, smiled warmly, and rising from the sofa, wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Do you really want to pick a fight with me that badly?" he whispered in your ear. "Alright then... I ate your last pastry. Punish me."