A/N Short filler-ish chap. Sorreh c:

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Ricky was currently sat on his couch in his small, one person apartment, writing one of his short-stories. A rather angry short-story. Hm, I wonder why?

He was scowling at his computer as he was typing, only half paying attention to what he was writing. He was also mumbling rude and spiteful things, along with profanities, about Mykailla.. Boy, does that man know how to hold a grudge.

"How does Micah even put up with her?" He muttered angrily, stopping his writing abruptly, and slamming his laptop closed, making Dexter (who was napping on his lap) jump off and run away out of fright. "She's such a f*cking--"

Ring! Ring! Ri-

Ricky leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as he answered his phone. "Hello?"

"Hey! You actually picked up!" Chris' overly happy voice sounded over the phone.

"Uhm, yeah." Ricky sighed. "What's up?"

"Nothin' much.. You owe me an explanation, by the way."

"I do not."

"You do toooooo~" Chris sing-songed, followed by crunching sounds.

"What for?" Ricky asked, then chuckled lightly and rolled his eyes. "Chris, what are you eating?"

"Chips. And the explanation of what happened at Micah's hou--"

"No. It's not my fault. Goodbye." Ricky cut him off, then hung up. He scoffed quietly, dropping his phone on the table. It slid to the other side, stopping just short of the edge of the table. "She's the one who needs to explain." Ricky muttered, running his hands down his face. His phone began ringing again, and he debated on just letting it ring till it shut off. Chris, I hate you so much.

The young man reached across the table and snatched his phone, sliding the green icon to answer before he even checked the caller ID. "What?!" He snapped.

"Geez, what'd I do?!" A female voice responded in a rather surprised tone.

"I.." Ricky was confused. "Mykailla?"

"Congrats. You know my voice."

"... What do you want?"

"I was calling to, uhm, apologize."

"..."

"..."

"..."

".. Are you still there?"

Ricky debated on whether to just hang up, or just stay silent until she hung up. He settled for staying silent, trying to think about what to say to her when he did speak. "..."

"Richard, I can hear you breathing. Answer me, will you?"

"Call me Richard again, and I'll--"

"You'll what?" Mykailla asked with no emotion. "Embarrass me? Beat me? Call me names?... Yeah, because that's new."

Ricky was taken aback.. Why would he do any of those? He's not going to do that over something so small. Why would she think I would beat her?.. "Uhm.. No. I wasn't going to do any of those." He furrowed his brow. I wasn't even going to give her an empty threat. "Why would I beat you? You know I wouldn't lay a hand on you in a harmful way.."

"Because I called you Richard.." And you have before. Mykailla added in her own head in response to Ricky's "I wouldn't lay a hand on you in a harmful way." .

"Well, I mean, that is just my name.. I hate it, but I'm not going to go bat-sh*t crazy over it."

Mykailla swallowed. "I.. I was joking about the beating." She half-lied. She knew he wouldn't hurt her bad enough to call a beating, but he has done some stuff that was almost bordering on beating. Almost.

"No, you weren't." Ricky stood up from his seat, walking through his house and to the front door. "I remember some things I've done," I wouldn't call them even remotely close to beating. I'd never physically harm a woman. He thought to himself, then continued. "and that sometimes I overreacted about some of the stupid sh*t you do.. But you weren't joking. You hesitated, and that's your tell. When you're lying; that's the only time you ever hesitate about saying something. Anything."

"..." Mykailla was silent, curling her legs up against her chest tightly.

"Mykailla.. Are you still there?" Ricky asked, holding the phone between his ear and the crook of his shoulder as he was hopping around slightly to slip on his shoes. "Mykailla, answer me."

"Ricky, you have hurt me. You know you have." Mykailla murmured quietly. "It may not have been bad, but you have hurt me.. Physically and emotionally. More than once."

"I have?" Ricky stood up straight again once he was done with his shoes. "When?.. I mean, there was that one time..." He trailed off, then cleared his throat. "But that was an accident--"

"Yeah, I know. I remember," Mykailla cut him off, her voice cracking. "I apologized for earlier, so I-I'm done. Bye."

"Wait--!" Ricky started, but didn't finish as he heard the static. He pulled his phone away from his ear to look at it.

Call Ended.

He groaned, beating his head against the wall once. "F*ck." He snatched his jacket from the hook on the back of the front door, grabbing his keys out of the pocket after putting it on. The man then proceeded to exit his home, locking the door behind him. "Why do I even care this much about it?" He asked himself quietly as he slipped into the driver's side of his silver Jeep Cherokee, started it up, and backed out of his driveway.

Repeating the same question in his head, over and over again to try and find an answer.

Why do I even care so much?