Chuffed

Pairings: Chanyeol x You

BAD DRUNK DRABBLE REQUESTS

The room was so quiet you could hear the ticking of the living room clock on the wall. No one had said a word in the last two hours and you were beginning to forget what human speech even sounded like. The longer you listened to that maddening ticking, the more in tuned your hearing became to it. So much so that you also heard a second lighter tick, a millisecond delayed behind the first tick that was coming from the clock on the kitchen wall. The two weren’t in sync with each other. Their ticks would never match up.

TICK-tick
TICK-tick
TICK-tick

The batteries that started those hands moving had been inserted at different times. These two clocks were doomed to be out of sync for the rest of their lives, maybe they should just give up and separate. Maybe one of them should move out and take their stupid keyboard and guitar with them.

Your foot was falling asleep and you outstretched your leg, momentarily forgetting who you were sharing this sofa of anger with.

You felt the heat of his warm thigh against your toes and as soon as your foot made contact his hand reached down to grab ahold of your foot and roughly shove the whole thing off the sofa.

“This is my side,” he grumbled and you rolled your eyes and scowled to yourself. His hands were moving, “from here,” tracing along the line of the cushion he occupied with his big long legs that he had somehow managed to fold up into themselves and fit onto that small square cushion, “to here, is mine.”

“I wasn’t trying to take your stupid cushion, Chanyeol,” you spat out in annoyance and he rolled his eyes sending a flash of rage through your already irrational body.

“My foot fell asleep! It hurts, I was just stretching.” You said mostly to yourself but definitely loud enough for him to hear.

He swallowed, looking down at the paperback in his lap, refusing to look up to at you as you spoke to him as he pretended to read through something on the page even though you knew for a ing fact that he had been on that same page for the last 30 minutes. You knew because you had watched the ticking hands of those stupid clocks for the last half hour and you didn’t once hear that swish of his page turning amidst the TICK-ticks that had been driving you crazy.

If he hadn’t taken your phone and the only dictionary in the house when the bickering started, you wouldn’t have had to take the cord to his electric keyboard and his laptop power cord and the remote control to the tv and the strings from his guitar and throw them all outside through the bathroom window. They got caught in a tree halfway down to the ground and you could still see them dangling there through the living room window like some sort of absurd decoration on the least festive christmas tree in the world.

Why did you take them? Because he deserved it. The stupid tall man used his height against you for the millionth time and tossed your phone, the dictionary and even his own cell phone up high on the kitchen cabinets that went ten feet up into the ceiling. He then took the only step ladder you owned which you sometimes used to get into the cabinets above the fridge where you hid your fancy chocolates that he wasn’t allowed to touch because he didn’t understand things like hormones and period pains. Well he took that stool, and every single chair from the kitchen and locked them in the bedroom.

The key to the bedroom?

Tossed up with the cell phones.

Because of a word.

A single word started all of this.

A word so benign and simple and commonplace that no one in the history of stupid fights between couples would have seen this coming.

Chuffed

He swore you had used the word wrong.

You were positive that he was using the word wrong and wrong in such a polar opposite way as the way you used the word, the man could NOT be more wrong and yet he argued with such certainty, such misguided assuredness, confidence, and conviction as if he himself had been named Webster in a past life and had single handedly written the English dictionary himself. He even went so far as to ADMIT that you had used the word right, only you had failed to consider the word’s other meaning, which somehow meant the exact opposite of the very meaning of the word. His entire argument felt like something out of The Twilight Zone and you felt like maybe, just maybe your entire head might explode all over his face if he told you one more time to just admit that you were wrong.

When you were about to look up the word to prove his poor misguided wrong he snatched your phone straight from your hands and jumped up high enough to toss the phone up onto the cabinet. You frisked him for his phone which soon joined yours up on the cabinet and when you do