Swift

  Swift and I have only fought once, and that was the night I had confessed. Other than that we have never had a real fight. A few arguments sprinkled here and there, but nothing much else.
     At least, until tonight.
     Swift had yet again been avoiding me. Not only did he visit less and less, but he wouldn't walk me home from school half the time. In fact, he's been gone for two straight weeks ever since he healed up from his injuries. I would often wait by my window every night hoping he would at least show his face. Eventually after the first week I gave up and just focused on my school work. I was in my senior year and graduation was just around the corner, so I needed to focus. Maybe a little separation wouldn't be so bad...
     Well, one night he finally made an appearance. I was working on some homework when he suddenly knocked on my window. At the unexpected sound, I jumped up and spun around to face the window. There he was, a stupid smirk on his handsome face. For some reason, instead of feeling happy at the sight of him, I felt...Angry.
     I opened up the window and he hopped in, standing in front of me and leaning down to press a kiss to my lips.
     I moved away from his advancement, stepping back a few feet and avoiding his touch. He gave me a look, but didn't follow my movements.
     "Is something up?" He asked, and I straight up glared at him.
     "Really? You left me alone for two straight weeks! Hell yeah something's up!" I replied, clenching my fists and crossing my arms. I felt the anger boiling up inside me. I can't believe him! He shows up and doesn't even apologize or explain why he was gone!
     He bit his lip, glancing away and looking down at the floor. "I was busy..." He replied softly, avoiding my question and only making me angrier.
     "Busy doing what? Sleeping with some other chick or avoiding me entirely?" I asked sharply, and that's when his expression changed from guilty to livid.
     "Okay, that's too far! Why would I cheat on you?!"
     "We've been together for almost two years and you haven't gotten any action from me! You've stopped coming by and you've stopped walking me home. Who knows what you've been doing!" I yelled back.
     It went on like this for an hour. I was yelling and so was he. It had never been this bad. And when I couldn't take it anymore, I rushed forwards and shoved him out of the window and onto the fire-escape. I slammed the window shut, locked it, and closed the curtains so he couldn't see what I did next.
     I cried so much that night. Guilt flooded my system and I remembered all the cruel things we said. What I said. I wanted to apologize almost immediately, but when I peeked through the curtains to see if he was still outside, all I saw was an empty fire-escape and an even emptier alley.

Rebel
      I never really fought with Rebel. Nothing outside of the occasional argument over what to eat or what show to watch when we're alone downstairs. The only intense fight we've had was the one we were having right now.
     I worried about Rebel more and more after his injury. I called him when he was running late to make sure he was okay, I always had a first aid kit ready to go, I always checked his unhealed injuries and tried a few times to convince him to stay over for the night.
     Well, one night he arrived and naturally I grabbed the first aid kit before greeting him. I offered to check his injuries, and in response he let out a short and annoyed sigh.
     "Okay, you and I need ta talk," he said curtly, sitting down on my bed and leaving me standing. I awkwardly nodded and set down the kit, going over to sit in my desk chair and face him.
     "You've been real clingy recently. I can't get an inch of space to myself. What's goin' on, huh?" He asked, and I felt myself stiffen.
     "Clingy? I haven't been clingy. I'm just making sure that-"
     "Making sure my injuries are healed, I know. But why can't you trust the fact that I'm fine and that I've got everything under control?" He interrupted.
     "Because you don't! You've barely got yourself under control!" I yelled back, feeling anger rising in the pit of my gut. He stood up, towering over my chair and my much smaller form. My hands shook a little, but I wasn't going to let him see that he intimidated me.
     "What did you say?" He asked lowly, his fists clenched tightly.
     "I said that you don't have yourself under control. Now back up, Rebel," I replied coolly. He let a snarl rip out of his throat and he grabbed the front of my shirt roughly, pulling me up to his face.
     Too close. He was too close!
     I don't remember what happened exactly, but all I know is that soon after, I was on the floor and crying. Rebel was long gone, and my face hurt like hell. Had he punched me or slapped me? Either way, it still ended the same way.
     With my heart broken in pieces.

Ghost
     Ghost and I fought a lot, but they always got solved after we cooled down. It would start with something simple, like who would buy dinner, and then it would escalate to name calling and sometimes thrown objects, mainly thrown by me and caught by Ghost.
     This time was a little different.
     Ghost hovered a lot when I was alone with him, and he was constantly on my back. He would watch me do homework, chores around the house and other things. Sometimes he would help, but most of the time he just...Watched. It pissed me off to no end and this is where our fight starts.
     I was cleaning up the kitchen since a couple new friends were coming over to talk about boy problems. They were the girls from the van a few months ago. I had found out we all went to the same school and decided to invite them over.
     As I slaved away scrubbing the counters, the familiar sound of boots hitting the carpet floor sounded behind me.
     "Ah, great you're here. I need you to help me clean up the place," I said a little too enthusiastically, gesturing to a broom in the far off corner.
     "Why?" was the response I got.
     "I've got friends coming over and-"
     "No, why do I have to help you? Don't you have everything under control?"
     That's when I lost it. I stood up, turned to him, and gave him a glare.
     "You think you're too good to help your girlfriend clean up? Is that it? Huh? Is that fucking it? Because newsflash buddy, you're not," I spat out, and he glared right back.
     "I am better than you, obviously. I have more skills than you; I'm faster, stronger, and smarter than you; and I top every guy and girl you've ever had a crush on. Why would I waste that on cleaning a room that isn't even mine?"
     "You fucking prick! Why can't you just help me out, huh?! Is that really too much to fucking ask?!" I snapped, grabbing a bottle of bleach and tossing it at his head.
     "Oh my God you are so fucking annoying!" Ghost yelled, catching the bottle that I had thrown at him. He tossed it aside and caught a lamp that followed.
     "Well maybe if you fucking helped around here, I wouldn't complain about it!" I yelled in reply, throwing another pillow. He dodged it and turned around, gripping his head like he had a migraine. I stopped throwing shit at him, but I was still pissed off. I suddenly wanted him as far away from me as possible.
     As if he read my mind, he began to walk towards the window. Before he left, I shouted one more thing at him.
     "Don't come back! Not ever!"

M.C.
     Since I have a younger sibling, I barely get any time to myself, let alone any time with just M.C., which is the reason for our fight.
     Now when we fight, we don't yell at each other or make a big racket. We give each other the silent treatment and avoid one another until we both realize we're being idiots.
     As of now, I'm with my sibling watching their favorite cartoon. I don't have my phone, since I accidently left it at school in my math class.
     Unbeknownst to me, M.C. is at my bedroom window, pounding on it and waiting for me to open it. He forgot his key and lost it somewhere, and he needed a new one.
     I don't realize this until after I put my sibling to bed.
     As I walk into my room, I notice a note on the windowsill. Knowing it was from M.C., I open the window and read it. My heart sank at what he wrote.
     'Don't got time for me anymore, huh? Guess I don't have time for you either.'
     I figured he'd come back tomorrow and I could apologize and explain it to him. So, I put the note onto my nightstand and went to bed.
     Three days have gone by. I'm scrolling through my phone and re-reading all of his texts from the day he was locked out. He kept asking where I was and if I could open the window. He gave me a long explanation as to why he lost it, followed up by a sad 'Do you even care anymore or nah?'
     I felt my heart tear up into pieces. I had done this before as well. I paid more attention to my sibling instead of him nowadays...I felt so guilty, and I wanted to apologize.
     My little (brother/sister) came up to me as I sat on the couch re-reading his texts and making myself feel more guilty.
     "(Y/N)? Can we play now?" (He/She) asked, tugging on my shirt.
     "In a bit, okay? I'm not feeling my best right now..." I replied, feeling tears run down my face. Not understanding what I was feeling, they ran off, playing with their toys and waiting for me to join them.

(This is the last update for now. Hope ya'll enjoy. For more details check out my book 'Sorry For The Love We Lack'.)