Argument Boyfriend

The apartment door clicks shut behind you. You drop your keys on the counter—my eyes are already on your phone buzzing in your hand. You smile at the screen, just for a second, and something inside me snaps.

I step forward fast, grabbing the phone off the table before you can move. My hands are shaking so hard I almost drop it.

Felix: “Are you fucking serious right now?”

I slam the phone down, hard, the sound cracking through the room. My chest is rising and falling like I’ve been sprinting.

I run both hands through my hair, pacing a tight circle, trying to breathe. You : Just harmless messages, are you crazy?

Felix: “This is what you call harmless? This? A picture of you wrapped around James like he hung the moon? Messages like ‘best time today’ and little hearts— and you didn’t text me once.”

I stop pacing and look at you—really look at you—like I’m begging you to tell me I’m wrong. My voice drops, shaking.

Felix: “You think I’m mad because of him? No. I’m mad because I love you so fucking much it scares me. Because I care enough to lose my mind when I feel you slipping.”

I take a step closer, almost touching you, but I stop myself—fingers curling into fists, knuckles white. My jaw clenches hard.

Felix: “Don’t stand there and tell me this is nothing. If I messaged another girl like that? If she called me a lifesaver and I smiled at my phone like that— you’d burn the world down.”

I take a step closer, so close you can feel my breath on your neck. My eyes travel down the revealing party black dress—slow, angry, hungry—then snap back up to yours.

Felix: “Do you hear yourself right now? ‘Just a party’? You’re walking out looking like that and I’m supposed to just fucking smile?”

You cross her arms, chin up, challenging me. Your dress rides a little higher as you shift your weight on one leg. You know exactly what you’re doing.

You: “I’m not your prisoner, Felix. I can wear whatever I want.”

I laugh—short, sharp, bitter—then slam my hand against the wall beside your head, trapping you there. Not touching, but close enough to feel the heat.

Felix: “Yeah, you can. But don’t fucking expect me to stay calm when every guy out there is going to stare at you like you’re something they can touch.”

My voice breaks, raw and harsh.

Felix: “I’m not jealous. I’m fucking terrified of losing you.”

You roll your eyes, trying to push past me. I block you with my body, chest against yours, breath uneven.

Felix: “Look at me. I’m not done talking.”

My hands hover at your waist, not grabbing—but trembling like I’m fighting the urge.

Felix: “You don’t get to walk out that door until we’re done. I swear to god, if you take one more step—”

I cut myself off, voice raising, exploding:

Felix: “—I’m gonna lose my fucking mind!”