"How'd you do on your paper?"

I glanced up from my sketchbook that I'd been drawing in. I looked back down, putting the charcoal pencil on the table in front of me, my movements jerky.

"Fine." I shrugged. After my breakdown last week, I was struggling with returning back to the more open me, and not the person I was before Joseph came into my life. I was doing better, but my voice was still a shaking wisp of it's normal tone. I was startled by anything sudden or loud, and I was more shy, hiding in myself. I talked less and less, even to Joseph, reverting to one word sentences, and apologizing every time Joseph got the tiniest bit frustrated.

"Damian," Joseph said, twirling the chair around so I faced him. I looked away, scared to admit to him that I was, once again, a disappointment.

"You can't ignore me like this! You haven't said anything but one word answers for three days!" Joseph threw his hands up in frustration, and I shrank away from his swirling anger. "I'm sorry for what I said, but you can't lose all faith in me, just because of doubt that lasted for a couple hours!"

"Sorry." Was all I managed, in a quiet tone, tinted with a scared shade of blue. "I'm sorry."

Joseph didn't reply, only stepped back, and turned away. "Come find me when you can be the trusting boyfriend I know and love."

With that, he walked out of our bedroom, closing the door gently behind him. His calm tone, and the quiet way the door clicked shut, scared me more than he his yelling. It would be okay if he yelled, and slammed the door, but he didn't, and I knew he was beyond angry because of it.

But I didn't go after him. Not even when I heard the door to our apartment close. I stayed where I was, feeling guilt filling me, angry and frustrated tears rolling down my face. I ruined another relationship. The fact that I was scared of talking, and because I was so introverted, caused my relationship to fall apart. Again.

I held a shaking hand to my mouth, in a feeble attempt to stifle the sobs, that no one but me would hear.

In a flash of anger, I twirled, ripping the pages out of my sketchbook, throwing the crumpled sketches and ripped drawings all around, not caring if the drawings were what I use for art shows, or if they were bad ones I did when I was bored. They were all destroyed, and at the moment, I didn't feel the pain of the loss.

The rage dissipated as quickly as it came, leaving me feeling empty, hollow, and kneeling in the middle of the bedroom floor surrounded by ruined art. The art I'd spent hours completing, only to be trashed in a matter of seconds.

I collapsed, slumping to the floor in a twisted heap, having no energy left to move off the scratchy rug, onto the bed two feet away from me.

Blah Blah Blah Yes, these are my time skips 

Joseph found me like that, hours later, when he returned home. He stood in the doorway for a moment, taking in my crumpled form and the, once beautiful, art lying around the room, in shreds.

He signed, walking to me, sitting on his heels. He turned me onto my back, his shoulders slumping as he saw the tear tracks. Instead of moving me to the bed, he lay down next to me, pulling me to him.

I weakly grasped his shirt, and he kissed my forehead. I was relieved when I didn't smell alcohol on his breath, relaxing more into him when I knew he hadn't been drinking.

Sleep once again tugged me down, and I relinquished my hold on reality, just having time to wrap my arms around Joseph's neck, before I was pulled into the blackness that was sleep.