Sawyer: He turned and left the room, after saying his piece, he left. Classic Sawyer move, doesn't accomplish anything but to make him feel like the stupid git he is. He feels the familiar burning of tears behind his eyes, waiting to be let out; he blinks them back. Head in his hands, what was he even mad about? It makes him angry now, not remembering; but still remembering all the shit things he said afterwards. Willow's empty stare echoing throughout his mind, this is what happens Sawyer. This is what happens when you do what you do and you fuck up. A dry sob escapes his lips, and he finds himself at his own bedroom door, whispering “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” over and over. The only interruption is the heaving noise that overwhelms his lungs and rips through him. He doesn't know how long it's been but that door opens, the relief he feels shackled by the tear streaks across her face. She takes his hand, and they lay in his bed, not saying anything, tangled in each other.
Pierce: He fidgets, waiting for something to say to come to him, waiting for her to show up and say something. Waiting. That is the problem, waiting. His face scrunches in concentration when he spies her ukulele on his coffee table and a note pad on the counter. Getting up he quietly matches up phrases, not knowing what he's doing, but knowing it's better than sitting on his couch letting his feelings stew. An hour later he has a faint string of chords and really bad lyrics. Outside of his bathroom he sits down cross legged on the floor and starts playing. It takes a few repeats of the song but finally that door opens and he sees her, holding back a smile, yet still managing to glare at him. He gets up, cautiously moves closer to her and takes her in his arms. Kissing her hard, making her laugh as he pulls away and asks if she would like an encore.
Darren: He's never seen a woman that angry before, he's never been that terrified that he forgot what he was even angry about. He opens his mouth and closes it again, she's beside him on the edge of the bed, shaking still. Finally he gets up the courage, or numbs his brain into sheer stupidity, either way sound comes out of his mouth. “Kenn... what can I do to make this up to you?” She looks at him and for a second he's terrified all over again, not of her anger, but of that boundary he can feel coming between them. Then she smiles, and shakes her head. “No more talking alright?” He just nods as she crawls into bed beside him and goes to sleep. The impending doom apparently, postponed to another day.
Jude: He's never seen her lose it before, shaking, bellowing at him. Suddenly his 5'3, girlfriend was 10' tall, and it was terrifying; however, he stood his ground. This was it, their first fight and it would definitely not be their last. The room was filled with an uncomfortable tension, they have been staring at each other in silence for at least a minute. He drew in yet another deep breath, pushing his anger down, not yet knowing what to say to get his meaning across without making everything worse. He breaks eye contact and she storms into another room. It comes to him, and it's most likely the stupidest thing he can think of, but he does it anyway. Going back to the first time they met, he makes her a sandwich, and sharpies a note onto the paper plate. Carefully opening the door, he sets the plate down beside her and goes back into the kitchen. Twenty minutes later, a mild panic is rising up in him, it's all he can do not to counter across the kitchen when she sheepishly comes through the door. “Sorry.” She mutters into his chest. “I shouldn't have-” but he kisses her, feeling ashamed of the wetness from the tears on her cheeks; a relieved tear dropping onto her head from him.
Warren: He hates admitting he's wrong, loathes it, it is the worst feeling in the entirety of the universe. Until he saw that expression fall over Riley's face a second ago. That, is the worst feeling in the universe. His chest feels like there is a boa constrictor binding tighter and tighter, he wants to step forward and take her in his arms. It would be so easy, but he can tell, that would be the worst thing he could do right now, to touch her. Tighter and tighter, he can't breathe. He blinks, when did she leave the room, where did she go? Where. Did. She. Go. A door closes, the one beside him. He just sinks to the floor, she's still in the apartment, it's not over yet. Time slowly ticks by, she's still in that room, and he hasn't moved from his slumped over position on the floor. She's in front of him now, the emotional tsunami that washes over him is too much to handle and he can't hold back the sob that comes out of his mouth as she sits down in front of him and gently takes his hand. “I-I...” She shakes her head and gives him a small smile, getting up and taking him with her. “I know,” she whispers as he wraps his arms around her.
Felix: For a second, he thought he lost her; she stopped yelling, sat down on the carpet, and starred at the wall. At first it only angered him more, he was still screaming, and she was as cold as a machine. He knew she could hear him, and yet, there was nothing. No reaction, not even a flinch. And then a cold feeling emptied him out, tears streaked down his face. He walked from the room, and punched the brick wall of their kitchen. Pain, now he could feel it, he moved to hit the wall again when something stopped him. What was it? Arms wrapped around his shoulders and torso, for a moment he struggled. What stopped him was the tears. The cold damp sensation spreading out along his upper back. Did he just hear something? Stop? “Stop,” Sage said again louder. “Okay,” he faintly responded. The arms loosened and he turned, realizing his face was wet, making the connection between the wetness on his sweater and that she was crying. They both were. She tended to his knuckles in silence, he winced as she put the peroxide on. “Careful not to get blood on your shirt.” Was all he could think to say, she gave him a warning look. “Well... it's pretty... you're pretty... I mean...” She hid a faint smile behind an unwrapped wad of gauze, pretending to inspect it. “Shut up Felix.” “Okay.”