puddingpunter

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

His patience was running thin, wearing down and chipping away by every word that came out of Amber's mouth. Spicing things up was something Mishka could understand; although, he was undoubtedly caught off by how frustrated she was from the lack of 'change' in the recent months. What did she expect? It wasn't something previously discussed and Mishka wasn't a mind reader, so he didn't find it fair that she was mad at him for missing this. But, thinking back on it now Mishka realized just how right Amber was. They hadn't done anything fun or special for a very long time now. Vacation, date night, something, anything. But her accusation? Her claim of his obliviousness on their 'dying' marriage struck hard at him and Mishka wasn't so sure what to say to that. It left him feeling defensive and quite wounded, actually. Mishka withdrew his hand from her grip and draped it over the back of the couch. Then he readjusted his position to make himself more comfortable and moved closer to Amber. A few moments passed where he couldn't bring himself to look at her and instead chose focus on the ticking from the pendulum on clock hanging off the far wall.

Mishka cleared his throat and looked back to to meet Amber's gaze. "Do you want a divorce?" No transition, no warning. It was something he would rather much never have to deal with but he needed to get it out. The words were clear and his tone low. Not once did it ever occur to Mishka that he'd be asking such a thing to the very same woman he promised to live the rest of his life alongside. It hurt and his heartbeat suddenly sounded much louder to his ears.

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

'Repeated' she answered him. So simple and yet so complicated, being that it was something that could be interpreted in numerous ways. But repeated as in...? He waited patiently for an example -an elaboration of some sort at least- but she gave none. If you took a step back and really thought about it, most of peoples' everyday lives are repeated. We eat, we work, we pay for things like necessities and luxuries. All in all, we live and eventually die. Anything new about that? If it was an existential crisis she was experiencing then Mishka wasn't so sure what he could say to help. Amber reached out for him and he reacted like every other time she did this; a conditioned response. Mishka readily allowed his arm to go limp so Amber could do with it as she pleased. He didn't mind and even returned the favor by turning his hand over so he could curl his fingers around her wrist. "Kotik," Mishka stopped to pinch the bridge of his nose with his free hand, trying not to let himself get frustrated. "What do you mean by that?" He was nearly pleading with her but not quite, more annoyed than not (although that was not his intention, despite his tone implying otherwise).

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

Do you still love me? Mishka would have never thought, hadn't known, it was possible to ever hear such lethal words uttered without the intention of actual malice.

In one fluid motion, Mishka swept up the remote to turn off the television before doing a ninety-degree turn in his seat to face Amber. She had his attention. "What?" The question, of course, was rhetorical. He has heard her loud an clear and that was exactly what had him so concerned at the moment. "Kotik, what the hell does that even mean?" He wasn't angry, just hurt. Struck dumb and now trying desperately to understand where this was coming from. What could he have possible done, how badly did he fail her, for her to have to ask such a thing? He didn't wait for an answer and continued but this time with a gentler tone. "Of course I do! I'm so sorry, I know I don't always show it in the way you deserve but believe me when I say you are the most important person in my life." They'd been together for years, had known each other for even longer. Their marriage wasn't exactly perfect -Mishka believed there would always be room for improvement- but it wasn't a wreck either, hopeless beyond repair. At least that's how he felt about it. He never forgot her birthday, their anniversary, or days they planned on doing something special together. Her favorite song was still burned into his memory from all those times he played the stupid thing on repeat just to memorize the lyrics for her, and he knew the recipes to her preferred desserts like the back of his hand. Was he a sap? Undeniably so but that wasn't something he was ashamed of.

"Tell me, what's wrong?" Verbal communication wasn't his strong point despite his fluency of multiple languages, but he was willing to try. If she wanted to yell at him for screwing something up, then he'd take it. If she just wanted a hug and to cry, then he'd take it. All he wanted was for her to give him something to work with.

Nᴏᴛ A Dɪsᴀsᴛᴇʀ

Perhaps this meant that Sparhawk was slowly building up an immunity to the ugly dog's germs? Mira wondered what would happen if this failed, and in her mind she pictured a few different outcomes; one being that Big Brother would eventually turn into a frothing werewolf. The little girl scrunched up her nose in disgust and shook her head. Ew. Hopefully that would never happen because she actually liked Sparhawk and the idea of locking him up in a cage and feeding him through bars sounded much to complicated her the little girl to wrap her head around. Thankfully Sparhawk began talking about a different subject altogether and Mira had to pay close attention to absorb what he was saying, quickly forgetting about her imaginary scenarios.

"Saving?" she parroted. Now that was something she categorized as a luxury, being that she couldn't afford to do it nor did she often find herself with enough coins in her possession to even consider the idea. In that case it seemed today was going to be her lucky day. Mira looked down at her share of the pile and pondered. "But where do I keep it?" Little knick-knacks or whatever she collected were one thing, but even at this age she knew that this was much more important and therefore would would require more effort than her usual hiding spots.

An idea popped into her head and Mira pointedly gestured to the little box Sparhawk had just stashed his coins into. "Can I put mine in there too?" Ironically, despite being able to comprehend the importance of currency, she completely missed why this would be a bad idea. Sparhawk was a still total stranger and who knew what he could be up to. And yet, Mira saw no problem with trusting him. "Please?" she added, trying not to forget her manners.

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

"Okay." Mishka gave Amber a wan smile before silently heading upstairs. He made straight for the bathroom in the main hallway and turned on the water, allowing it adequate time to warm up while he went to get some clean clothes to wear. Padding into their bedroom Mishka foraged through his drawers for some clean underwear and a pair of sweatpants. By the time he returned to the bathroom, the shower was thankfully already steaming to satisfyingly hot temperatures. Mishka always loved it when the water was hot although it always left him looking like a tomato by the time he was done. The man was in and out within a few minutes, and he made sure to towel himself off very well before getting into his sleepwear. According to the clock, he was well within his allotted time frame which meant he didn't have to worry about rushing. Mishka headed back down and returned to the kitchen. He grabbed a bowl and some utensils, then served himself with rather large portions before finally settling on the couch. "Alright, ready whenever you are" he announced as he made himself comfortable on the furniture. Mishka grabbed the remote from the nearby stand and handed it to Amber.

Gotham's Knights

Interested!

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

I FOUND THE THING

My feelings, bruh.
_#feelsbadman

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

Upon spotting Amber lounging on the living room furniture Mishka paused when she began approaching and angled his face towards her to catch her kiss, then returned the favor with a brief on aimed at the side of her head. He removed his shoes and left them by the door before emptying his pockets' contents of keys and a wallet into the shallow bowl sitting atop the foyer table. Mishka's response to the daily greeting was halfhearted; "Fine. Yours?" Little did he know what he'd just done. He followed his wife towards the kitchen, tagging behind not unlike a lost puppy, but then stopped at the threshold to lean against the wall. "I'm gonna run up and take a quick shower. Do you still want to watch that show you like later?" He couldn't recall the name of said TV series for the life of him but it was something Amber liked so every once in a while he tried to make an effort to join her during the show's weekly airing. Something like bonding time although he wasn't entirely sure that was working. According to the clock, he had just a little over twenty minutes to go rinse off and get back in time for tonight's episode to start. Assuming Amber says yes first, of course.

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

Right hook. Left swing. Duck. Uppercut. Repeat.

His movements were becoming sloppy, predictable even. It was currently late in the evening and Mishka was attempting to keep himself occupied at a local fitness club, sparring with a fellow athlete in the boxing ring. His metallic dog tags clinked noisily against each other and jangled loudly (yes, he still wore them even after having left the army few months prior) with every carefully executed step and precisely thought out maneuver he made to block or counter his opponent. The man was certainly no beginner but to his utter disappointment, Mishka found out quickly enough that he lacked the skills and experience required to keep him on his toes. Another failed catch. At least it was decent exercise. Mishka landed another punch. "Alright, I'm done" the other man surrendered. Both men were sweating at this point and he himself was just about ready to call it quits.

Three-quarters of an hour later and Mishka was in his car on the way back to home. To Amber, his one and only, no less. Several years back and just the thought of seeing her at the end of a long day would have certainly lightened his mood. But now? Well now, not so much. Now they could barely survive a week without at least multiple arguments and the sad part was that most of their bickering was over small things. (Like that time he promised he would take her to see the fireworks show but ended up chickening out because the loud noises disturbed him. He never told her why and just blamed it on late-night drinking with the guys.) When did it come to this? He couldn't say but if anyone asked he wasn't about to admit there were any problems with his marriage either.

Mishka had showered, changed, and even struck up some conversations with people he would have otherwise completely overlooked all in a pathetic attempt to stall. To buy himself as much extra time as possible so he wouldn't have to return so soon. Was he being immature about this? Absolutely and undeniably so. Mishka was painfully aware that he'd eventually have to cave in or otherwise risk upsetting Amber, but that didn't change his feelings of unease. It was just... Too much sometimes.

Mishka shook himself out and focused on the road ahead. Pulling up into the driveway before the house, he put the car in park and killed then engine. Then he just sat, staring blankly ahead. He really did not want to go inside. Not yet at least. Was Amber even home? A quick glance up through the windshield confirmed his suspicion. He released a heavy sigh. Finally mustering together the courage, Mishka got out of the vehicle and walked the paved steps towards the front door. "I'm back" he called out loud enough to surely catch Amber's attention, wherever she was.

'Ƭɪʟʟ Ɗᴇᴀᴛʜ Ɗᴏ Us Ƥᴀʀᴛ

{ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜᴅʀᴀᴡɴ}