#optionas bias x reader

[synthetickitsune]

hiii. i absolutely love ur optional bias drabbles <3 if ur requests are open, i’d like to request if u could write about the aftermath of an argument with optional bias. fluffy ending of course. thank u ♡

Hello, of course! I'm kind of surprised anyone even remembers that one lmao. But tbh idk about this one, it's kind of awkward for me to write optional bias things ^^'

Optional bias | Aftermath of an argument angst | 0.8k

Why did you have to fight now? It’s not like you want to fight ever, but it hurts worse because it’s happened now. 

On the days you’re both free, you like to do some cleaning. It doesn’t take long at all when you both divide the tasks, and with the music turned on, you wouldn’t hesitate to say it’s actually fun. He dances with you, often interrupts you as you work to wrap his arms around you and steal a kiss. It’s almost heaven.

There’s no music today. No chatter, no laughter. Just heavy silence occasionally disturbed by something falling or doors being closed and opened. It feels heavy, just like your heart. You don’t like the tension that has settled over your home. The fight wasn’t even a big one, just a minor error in communication. And yet why does it feel like you can’t approach him?

Clearly he feels the same. It’s awkward when you need to pass by each other, both struggling to shrink as much as you can so you don’t touch. Your hands shake and awkwardly hover and flinch when you pass him something so you don’t accidentally brush your fingers against his. So many things get dropped just because he won’t risk that possibility.

You’re both adults, you tell yourself. You should sit down and communicate. It wasn’t even a big deal. Yet you’re both acting like children, sulking and avoiding each other. Stubborn.

Are you making it a big deal? What if he’s just acting awkward because you are? Is this your fault, somehow? You second-guess your ability to read the room. It really wasn’t that deep. Was he avoiding you just because his hands were dripping wet? Did the box of tissues only slip his hands? You couldn’t be sure. You’re of course aware that you tend to overthink things, but what if this time you were right? 

Sighing, you lean against the wall and listen to the silent apartment. Somewhere in a different room, you can hear his footsteps. It feels like you’re a stranger in your own home. You don’t like it.

A sigh. Some rustling. A loud bang echoing through the now empty apartment.

So you’re both finished with your tasks. You look at the clock and see that you’ve finished much faster than you usually do - but at what price? Feeling a familiar burning sensation in your eyes as tears pool behind your eyelids, you take a couple deep breaths. He must’ve gone take the trash out, and you use this opportunity to venture out of the bedroom.

As you make your way to the kitchen, you wonder whether you should try and talk to him now. You can’t imagine how painfully awkward it would be to avoid him now that you have no work to pretend to be busy with. 

What you don’t expect is the two cups of steaming hot tea sitting on the table. It’s almost enough to make your tears spill over. You take a seat and close your hands around your mug, matching his, and discover it’s your favorite tea. Perhaps you’re not the only one who feels bad about the situation.

Soon enough you hear the door being opened and closed again. Without a word, he joins you, even dragging his chair closer to yours. Your knees bump together, and you both get startled by the contact that you jump slightly and your eyes meet. Your boyfriend is wearing a sheepish smile, one that you return.

“I’m… sorry?” he guesses aloud, making you shake your head.

“If you’re sorry, then I’m too,” you sigh, “But honestly I don’t think either of us should apologize.” He nods, and slowly, experimentally, takes your hand into his. 

“This was the weirdest morning I’ve ever had,” he mumbles and visibly relaxes upon hearing you laugh.

“Tell me about it,” you agree easily, allowing for your fingers to intertwine with his. “Thank you for the tea.”

“I didn’t know what to do to make things right,” he chuckles, “I figured I can’t go wrong with tea.”

You hum before a comfortable if a bit nervous silence falls over you. Relief floods your body so quickly and strongly you feel like all strength has left you. You stand up from your seat and instead motion for him to move away from the table. It’s much more cozy in his lap. Immediately, his arms wrap reassuringly around you.

“Is everything okay between us?” he asks quietly, “It’s so strange, I don’t know what to do.”

“I mean, I guess? I’m honestly just really confused,” you groan. He nods in agreement and once your eyes meet again, you can’t help but laugh.

As if coming to a silent understanding, you don’t talk about it anymore. But a hint of anxiety lingers in your movements, your voices, both of you moving cautiously and speaking softly. It’s strange, it’s messy, but you suppose that’s just life.