"Get the hell out of my apartment!" Her yell resonates throughout the tiny space, her face an angry grimace as she indignantly points a finger at her front door.

He's never seen her quite this upset before but neither has she him.

Their fight had escalated quickly. One minute they had been conversing normally, telling each other about their day and the next they were spitting insults in each other's faces. One false turn in their conversation is all it had taken and now it's as if they just stepped on a landmine.

There is a crash to his left and a moment later another object comes aiming straight at him, almost grazes his cheek but he side-steps it at the last second. There are shards laying everywhere, intricate patterns snake in beautiful colors around the broken edges – ah, there goes another vase then.

The various objects lying around in scrambled heaps on the ground resemble more of a battlefield rather than their living room floor. Not even her favorite coffee mug has endured her little tantrum unscathed as it lies beside her feet. Although it's only missing its handle, this whole ideal shows the severity of this situation.

It's not their first fight and certainly won't be the last, yet this time it's different. It is no simple quarrel – or like their friends prefer to say lovers spat – no. This time it is a full blown fight, the words thrown meant to hurt. And hurt they did, in all the dark places both of them have come to cradle in the most secluded areas of their hearts.

Underneath her strong exterior he can make out the slight wobble of her chin, the tremor in her eyes as she fights back angry tears. Her are layers crumbling one after one, and she is slowly baring herself to him with each tremble of her lips, each blink of her glassy eyes. He sees the creaks in her demeanor, how they curve along the lines of her skin, marking her broken like some porcelain doll. Levi can see them just as easily now as he sees his own.

For a few silent moments he simply stares at her, her chest heaving with repressed anger and frustration and her eyes flashing dangerously. Levi knows she's serious this time. And really, it's not that easy to overlook with half of their belongings strewn about the room.

"I said leave you fucking asshole or I swear to god a few broken glasses will be the least of your worries." Her hand is pointing yet again at the entrance of the apartment, the other making a move to grab the poor areca that's sitting innocently on their coffee table when he doesn't budge right away.

Levi grits his teeth, his nails biting angry half-moons in the flesh of his palms. He watches the furious desperation that's clawing at her face, then the plant in her hands, and then his shoulders slump in surrender. And even though he's just as frustrated as she is, he refrains from an angry comeback and instead obliges to her wish. With quick and measured strides he crosses the small distance of their living room to their front door, picking up his coat as he does so. He is not even fully out the door when she smashes it closed right before his face.

The slamming of the door echoes through the empty halls of the apartment complex long after. It's almost funny, because, besides the anger that is still bubbling inside them both it mirrors exactly what they feel at this moment.

:::

Five minutes later, Mikasa still finds herself leaning against her door, breathing steadier now, yet the aching in her chest almost makes her crumble to her feet. This isn't supposed to happen. Not to them. Sure, they have had their fair share of arguments in the past. That is just how they are and how their relationship works.

Never before, though, has it gone this far.

Mikasa isn't even sure what it was exactly they were arguing about any more, the only thing she is left with is the growing emptiness and the feeling of something just having gone horribly wrong.

"I'm sorry," Levi says, his voice muffled against the hard wood of her door. She can almost feel him leaning against it just as she is.

She sighs, tears still wet on her cheeks making some strands of hair stick to them like melted ink. She feels exhausted, both physically and mentally. It's then that her body finally gives into its fatigue as she slides down the length of the door, her head bumping against the wood with a dull thud as she lets it rest against it. Her whisper gets swallowed by the empty room.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, too."

AN: I know the chapters are all pretty short and not in chronological order. Still, I'd greatly appreciate some feedback (positive or negative, as long as it is constructive I don't care) just to know if I should even still continue this or if I should just let it be to actually use the time for other projects. Thanks.