continued from here - @ausglas
"You sound like such a martyr, Nat. Don't you ever get tired of lashing out at everyone? Really, nobody can even talk to you without you jumping down their throats." It was why he jabbed at her, made these little remarks to set her on edge; it was so easy. The two of them were like water and oil —Natalie, the boring, unchanging water that tried to flow a certain way without thinking about where it was going, and Gabe, the oil, dark and tainted in ways he couldn’t possibly decipher. He hadn't always been like this, mind you. He had once been someone better, nicer— or so he thought. Maybe he was delusional (hah, that was a word that may as well be synonymous with Goodman at this point), and he’d actually always been this way?
...Who could really tell?
“What have I taken from you, hm? Lay out every single piece of unfair treatment you think you’re going through.” He leaned in. “Use your words instead of getting pissy at me for everything that goes wrong in your life.” Brown hair fell into his eyes, an angelic face turning her way. On the surface, he was befitting of his name, but there was a darkness there that had started to brew, just bubbling and waiting to erupt in a way that might just destroy him.
“How do we solve this little problem that we call our lives?”