This is not a battlefield

She spoke to me. For the first time in months, she spoke to me. Her words were simple, elegant and well chosen. “I love you. I miss you. Come back to me.”
…I lie. She didn’t say that, her words were even simpler. Well, word. She said “Hi.”
And in that moment, it was 2010. It was 2010 and I was listening to some song about dancing fireflies that had nothing in common with a Joss Whedon show, and my heart was singing some other song by Paulo Nutini and her voice was still the loudest thing in my head. That tends to happen when people yell.
I can’t recall why she was yelling, what we were fighting about, but we never fought, we simply didn’t know how. Sure we can fight other people, I can get mad and yell and throw things, I’m actually quite good at throwing things if I were in a major league I’d smash the shit out of a vase, we just simply couldn’t fight each other. I believe fighting takes practice, verbal sparring with angry words and we simply weren’t used to being mad at each other.
So we learned.

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