He arrived home late one night, returning after his visit to Macau. His ears rung a bit from all the sounds and bells and people, and his eyes took some time adjusting to the dim light of the house. He didn't know why he willingly went when Macau asked, all those casinos and people made him more quiet than usual. He walked into the house as silent as usual, shutting the door behind him and making his way towards his room.
He didn't notice her sitting on his bed until he had turned on a light. She sat there quiet, glaring at him. He tilted his head inquisitively and raised an eyebrow. What was she doing here this late?
She sighed heavily, crossing her arms over her chest, then spoke. Her voice sounded quiet, but he could easily tell she was annoyed.
"Do you know what time it is?"
"Yes, I am aware of the time. Are you?"
"Of course. I've been sitting here staring at the clock wondering whether or not you were going to come home, or if I was going to have to go out and find you in some drunken stupor, or if you were stranded somewhere because all your pocket money was lost to gambling or…"
"I'm fine. Macau won't let that kind of thing happen anyways, I don't drink or gamble that much."
"'That much' could easily turn into more, you know."
"It won't. You can go to bed now."
"Couldn't you have at least called and said you'd be home late?"
"You need to stop worrying so much, I'm fine, everything's fine."
He sat down beside her on the bed. She huffed and turned away.
"Shut up, this isn't nothing! You always do this!"
"Then wouldn't you learn not to wait?"
Her voice was escalating in volume rapidly.
"Then couldn't you learn to call for once?"
He seemed to have a hard time keeping his voice down as well.
"Can't you just learn to relax?" He snapped.
"THAT'S NOT THE POINT HERE!" She finally shouted.
Silence.
"Then what is?" He finally said in a cold, hard voice.
She said nothing. Neither of them said anything for a long while. When she finally spoke, it was so quiet he didn't hear her. But she repeated it anyways.
"I really hate you."
He said nothing and only stared at her, somewhat wide-eyed. Had he heard her right?
"I hate you."
"Taiwan, you can't possibly—"
"I SAID I HATE YOU!"
She stood up, and quickly made her way toward the door, but he stood up and grabbed her arm before she could leave. She turned back to look at him, and only then could he see the tears streaming down her face.
"Taiwan…"
"I hate you! I hate that I worry about you almost every single day. I hate you because never let me know when you're going to be back. I hate that you never show what you're thinking or feeling unless I ask! I hate feeling sick inside because I'm worried something could happen to you!"
She slumped to the ground, wiping her face with her other sleeve, openly sobbing. He knelt down beside her, and was still holding onto her arm, unsure what to do.
"I hate that you can make me smile like there's nothing wrong with the world, and then make me cry like this!" She sniffled and sucked in a breath.
"A-And I hate…"
His face softened. And instead of her arm, he held her hand.
"…that you are the only person who can make me feel these things."