SEXTAPE, PART III,
CHAPTER 46.

" 𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌. "

sometime in the future.

"And that was the first time you've ever fought?" The woman in front of you asks, and you rest your folded hands on your knees.

"Yes, it was." You answer. You were stuck in an interview that you weren't all that pleased to be in at the moment, but unfortunately it was necessary.

"I see. Now, are you and your husband.. facing any difficulties at the time being?" She asks, the camera in the corner of the room focusing on the two of you. 

"No, no, not at all." You tell her with a smile, looking down at the two rings on your finger. Everything was great, in all honesty. "We've had small arguments here and there about the most ridiculous stuff, but we're all good. We're happy." 

You speak, pulling down your dress that hugged your thighs. The woman smiled sweetly, as she always did and then left the interview for a commercial with a note;

"That's wonderful to hear, Mrs. Kirstein. Now, we'll be back after a quick break to talk about life in the acting industry with this lovely lady right here."

that night, continued from ch. 45.

The guest room.

Thats where you lay, staring up at the blank ceiling. Your stomach ached and tears streamed down your own face. The two of you were equally upset at each other, although you knew it would be over soon.

It was colder in this room, speaking of the fact nobody really slept in it.

Nothing was his fault, it was yours. If only you hadn't drank.. and this time you weren't going to blame it on goddamn drunk mistakes like you did when you were less immature. 'Oh, I was drunk!' and 'I was fucked up.' No.

You wanted him to hold you again but of course an argument had to slide its way through. You wanted the same body heat that the two of you embraced in every night.

You sit up, flipping over your pillow so you could get more comfortable, wiping your eyes.

From across the hall, and down from where Jean was sleeping, you recognized that there was no TV playing, like there normally was.

Everything in the estate was still, and silent.. almost scary. The only noise was the fan above your head.

Jeans soft snoring alway somehow managed to lull you to sleep, and the mixture of both yours and his breathing.

Eventually, with a sigh, it became too much for you and you lift yourself from your somewhat comfortable spot from the bed, and move to open the door. 

It was even colder out in the hallway. This sucked.

You take in a deep breath. You only wanted to be in the same bed with him.. you would surely make up in the morning, right? Yeah, in the morning this would all just be a horrible dream. 

You enter your room. Jean was curled up into a somewhat ball, his hand tucked under the pillow and the other under his shirt.. just where you would always place it when you would sleep, hugging him close to you.

You loved this man, but of course you had fucked up as you had told yourself countless amounts of times.

Your eyes pricked, tears welling up as you moved to lay next to him. You didn't touch him, but he could practically sense your presence in his slumber. His pillow, was as well tear-stained. 

All night until he fell asleep he had been cursing himself out on how he'd scared you, and called you a bitch and such. He hated himself for it, and knew he would apologize in the morning. He wasn't even forcing himself to, it was instinct.

You exhale quietly, shutting your eyes. You listened to his soft breathing, but that just made the pressure in your chest rise more.. and soon enough causing you to begin crying. 

Turning over in your spot so you weren't looking at his shoulders, you sniffle. This was your pillow anyways, so Jean couldn't say shit.

You knew why you were crying, but you never really did unless you were this upset.. and here you were, crying into your pillow like a little girl. 

Hugging the pillow close, you squeeze your eyes tight, the space that you could no longer see going pitch black.

As long as you were warm and next to Jean, you were okay.

You were at home.