[a/n: okayyy so i’m writing the ones for the other boys soon, i promise they’ll be out asap! also this is pretty much just like fight/make up fluffy angst for Joji. ENJOY!]
The worst thing about ugly fights like this is that you almost never expect them. They’re sudden, like a car crash, and after things have been set in motion, after certain truths or accusations have been laid out in the open, there’s no stopping the catastrophe that’s sure to follow.
And that’s precisely what happened between you and Joji. A catastrophe.
It started out innocently enough. The two of you were cuddled together on the couch, watching some made-for-tv film with an overdone lifetime plot you couldn’t care less about – but then his hand started inching up your thigh. A previously welcomed action, one that he’s done plenty of times before, one that you’ve encouraged, but during this particular occasion, you just weren’t in the mood.
“Damn it, Joj, quit it.” You had scoffed, swatting his hand away defensively, eyes never leaving the television despite their lack of comprehension.
He had been quick to scoff back. “Sorry for being attracted to you. Jesus.”
Things had built quickly from there; you remember snapping him and shoving him away from you as he yelled, but other than that, things are a messy jumble in your head. There are a few words that remain very sharp and clear in your mind, but those are the things you wish you’d forget. Mean things. Things you’re surprised could have escalated from such a simple touch.
You had run straight to your shared bedroom, like a coward, and climbed into the shower so Joji wouldn’t hear you cry. It seems silly now, but at the time you weren’t thinking clearly and wanted nothing but to spit out your irrational emotions in private.
After calming down and exiting the shower, you found that Joji had fled your apartment to go cool off or rant about it to his friends. Even though you were frustrated and haughty, the fact that he had left made your stomach queasy with guilt and worry for the future of your relationship.
And so you had crawled into bed and slept away the mental exhaustion.
Now, upon waking, you check your phone and find that it has been nearly four and a half hours. It’s late. You feel muggy and gross, and kick the hot blanket off of your legs to lay in the coolness of your room and think about the events that had transpired earlier.
“All you think about is sex, you’re like a fucking fourteen year old! Grow up already!”
“Why are you bitching at me? Any other time you’re fine with it, I can’t read your fucking mind!”
“I’m not asking you to read my damn mind, Joji, jesus. I’m asking that you respect my decisions! Is feeling safe too much to ask?”
That was when Joji had dropped it. The thought makes you squeeze your eyes shut and will away the memory.
“Feel safe? Are you telling me you don’t feel safe?” His voice had been softer, and that made your hands shake, your eyes sting. “Real rich, y/n.”
And then you had run. And now here you are.
You want to wrap yourself in a blanket cocoon and stay there for years, the consequencing emotions are too much to bear. Guilt, embarrassment, regret, shame. They all make you want to tear your hair out. You’re afraid that you won’t be able to recover from this, that Joji will never look at you the same.
You hear the television click on in the living room, so you assume Joji got back – from wherever he had been – not too long ago. Your skin crawls with the thought of your eventual encounter; how awkward things are going to be. Will he side-step away from the topic? Or will he want to talk it out? Oh gosh, will he even want to talk to you at all?
You feel like crying again, but at this point you’re nearly fed up with all of the self-pity and moping. It’s not going to fix anything, and even though it’s all you want to do right now, you know there are certain actions you can easily take to try and break through the awful rift you’ve put between yourself and your boyfriend.
Though you’re trembling a little in anxiousness, you manage to slide out of bed and organize your thoughts as you stand there pondering what to do next.
There’s really nothing you can do except dive straight in; walk into the living room and talk to him about it. Apologize. Beg for forgiveness. Beg him not to break up with you.
As you gather the courage to leave the sanctuary of your bedroom, insecure thoughts creep into your conscious mind like pesky insects. What if he’s already made up his mind? What if he’s already decided to break up with me? What if he’s already moved on, and left the house to go make moves on some other potential partner? What if he only came back to pack up his stuff and leave?
There are so many things you’re afraid of, and you’re having a difficult time untangling the insanity at the forefront of your thoughts. Joji would always roll his eyes at this tendency of yours; the tendency to think irrationally anytime something didn’t go your way, to make absurd conclusions and assume the worst to the point of driving yourself crazy.
Maybe things aren’t so bad. Maybe Joji hasn’t completely given up on you yet.
You’ll never know unless you go out there and talk to him about it.
You inhale and exhale loudly, clearing your mind, and then you do it. You open your bedroom door and you walk into the living room to confront your boyfriend about the ugly catastrophe you caused earlier.
It’s dark and the only light comes from the television, and the kitchen fluorescents Joji must have left on when he went to grab the beer currently clutched in his hand.
He’s sitting on the couch, in the same space he had been when the entire fiasco between you two had started, and he looks up when you hears you come in. You can only stand to look in his eyes for a moment before the shame swallows you and you have look down.
Your face is red and your voice wavers as you speak up, “I’m, uh, I’m glad your home.” You realize you’re swaddled in nothing except for underwear and one of Joji’s oversized shirts – one you had tugged on absentmindedly after your shower. It smells like him because you had snatched it out of the hamper. It probably hasn’t been washed for a week or two. You don’t mind that. However, you do mind how ridiculous you must look, fiddling with them of his shirt, one you put on without asking, trying to apologize for the awful things you said to him not even six hours ago.
The blush runs down your neck now, and even though the lighting is dim, you’re sure he can see how befuddled you are.
He doesn’t reply. You continue quietly.
“I wasn’t right, I was,” you make the mistake of looking back up at him, and his peering eyes, and immediately squeeze yours shut. You can’t look at him when you do this. You can’t see his reaction. His possible disappointment or disgust. “I was an asshole. I just, I love you so much and I shouldn’t have said those things. I wasn’t thinking and I feel so ashamed of myself, I feel really guilty for hurting you.”
Your breaths become shaky and every single fiber of your body is screaming at you to hold back your foolish tears, to give Joji the earnest, heartfelt apology that he deserves and to stay firm and grounded when you deliver it.
The thought that you can’t give him a proper sorry pushes you over the top.
“I just,” your eyes have glossed over and you feel tears gathering precariously in the corners of your lids, on the verge of escaping and trickling down your cheeks, bearing your emotional incapacity to admit your faults. How pathetic, you think to yourself, how sad is it that you can’t even apologize to your boyfriend when you’ve offended him?
It’s all too much and suddenly that worst case scenario becomes a reality; you burst into a tears, a crying sniveling mess, standing right before your boyfriend, in his own shirt asking him to forgive things you can’t even talk about without falling apart.
Joji is up in an instant, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest and resting his chin on the crown of your head. “Oh, y/n. It’s okay. I forgive you, I promise.”
His words only make you feel worse. “No, you can’t. What I said was really awful. I didn’t mean it and I shouldn’t have accused you of making me feel unsafe. You really, truly don’t. I love you so much and I have never felt more at home with anyone else in the world.” You talk through your tears like a child, your face smushed against your boyfriend’s chest, tears wetting his shirt.
He rubs your back soothingly, and even though you feel guilty that he’s comforting you over something you did wrong, you don’t want him to stop. “You’re not the only person who needs to apologize. I may not make you feel unsafe, but you even saying that means I’ve at least made you feel uncomfortable before – and I don’t want you to feel like you can’t tell me when that happens.”
Joji backs away from you a little, and clasps your hands lightly in each of his, stepping backwards and tugging you with him until he’s backed into the couch. He puls you down beside him and you cuddle into his side.
You laugh a little as he grabs a throw blanket and wraps it around the two of you. “I legitimately thought you were going to break up with me.” You lay your head on his shoulder and he swipes a few strands of hair away from your face.
“Oh my god, y/n.” He sighs. “You overthink too much. Fights happen. It’s not the end of the world.”
You snake your arms around his torso and just sit there for a moment. “Okay, yeah, it seems kinda dumb now.”
“It’s not dumb.” Joji assures you. “Just… silly? Ridiculous? Completely arbitrary?”
He laughs too, and rubs your side. You both sit there quietly, thinking to yourselves, no doubt about one another, and toast over everything that’s happened today. You’re emotionally exhausted and very content just sitting and unwinding with your boyfriend on the couch, saying and doing absolutely nothing.
“You tired? It’s like three in the morning.”
“No,” you scoff to yourself, “I just had a really long nap.”
Joji makes one of those cute laugh noises, exhaling out his nose. “Okay so what do you want to do?”
“Let’s find that movie again. I’m actually really curious about what happened to the little boy’s dog.”
“Ugh. Fine. But only because I love you, that movie was awful. Like if I was on a plane, I’d rather it crash and kill me than play that movie.”
You roll your eyes but you smile because you know it’s true – the love part, at least. Because if Joji can spend half the day fighting with you and being angry, only to completely resume watching a shit movie after you’ve apologized, he really must truly care for you. And that thought makes you feel safer than anything else.
