And he says it like he means it, when really, he doesn’t. He regrets the words the instant they leave his lips, and he watches horrified as the tears well up in your eyes, the tears he caused, and he feels horrible. But before he can apologize, or say anything more, you turn on your heel and storm out of the room, refusing to let him see the tears spill down your cheeks.
And he says it under his breath, but he means it, he honestly does. And maybe, if you hadn’t looked at him the way you did, he would have said it to your face. But instead, he mumbled the words, leaving the room, thinking it might just be easier to agree than to fight a battle he had already lost. And maybe, after he cools down, he’ll come back and give you a kiss, and apologize to you the way he always does, but for now, he’s stuck being angry.
And he shouts the words at you, throwing the venomous words and meaning every syllable. You couldn’t remember the last time you didn’t come home to an argument, and you were starting to think that it might just be easier to leave. And you pack your bags, and he says apology after apology, but it’s too late for any of that.
And he laughs as he says it, not meaning a single word. You had played a prank on him to get him back for the time he put flour in your hairdryer, and you had turned it on, covering your face and hair with the white powder. And now, here you stood, laughing at him as he stood there, soaked. And you were glad, glad that your prank had measured up to his – The Pranking Master’s.
And he slurs the words as you continue to help him up the stairs and to bed. He keeps speaking the same words, insulting you, but you know that it is the alcohol talking and not him, so you ignore it. Apparently, he wants to go skydiving – naked. You just laugh and continue to help the drunken man up the stairs and to bed, telling him he needs to rest.