Wit's End

"You always do this! Why the hell do you always do this?!"

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to be sorry! I want an answer!"

"Why are you yelling at me, Han? All I said was I didn't wanna go."

"I'm not yelling, Erik! I'm frustrated beyond reason because you backed out of another social obligation! Again! Our friends--"

"Your friends."

"Our friends were counting on us to be there! Do you have any idea how expensive those tickets were?!"

"For the record, Babe, I never asked to go. You invited us without consulting me. You seem to have forgotten - again - that I cannot stand Taylor Swift, despite the fact that I've told you so many, many times. As far as the cost of the ticket, I will happily reimburse them as soon as my next unemployment check comes."

"That isn't the point, Err Bear!! I swear, you're becoming, like, a shut-in or something! First it was Mike and Sophia's wedding--"

"I had a sleep study thing that weekend."

"--then it was my mom's birthday dinner--"

"Okay, that one wasn't my fault. I literally got hit with a migraine attack as I was walking out the door. Didn't think you wanted me ralphing all over your mother. She already hates me enough as it is."

"Oh, puh-leez! She does not hate you! All I'm saying is you could've sucked it up for a few hours, instead of canceling last minute over a stupid little headache! Did you know she didn't speak to me for a week after that!?"

"A stupid little-? My skull felt like a bomb went off inside it."

"Stop trying to change the subject! Do you even hear yourself?! Everything that comes out of your mouth is an excuse! A bullshit excuse at that!"

"I'm sorry, Han. I can't help the way I feel. If you'd only listen--"

"No, you listen! I am tired, Erik! I'm tired of being cooped up in this crappy apartment night after night and week after week! When was the last time we went out and did something fun?!"

"Uh... yesterday?"

"Oh for the love of--! Going to the grocery store doesn't count! I meant like a date! Y'know, those things people in a romantic relationship usually go on?! Together?!"

"What are you talking about? We had a nice dinner just the other day."

"Again, that doesn't count because we didn't go anywhere!"

"But... I worked really hard on that dinner. I even made your favorite mushroom risotto, from scratch. You said you liked it."

"Jeez, Erik, would you try and get with the program just for a second?! Your food is fine, but it's not on par with a romantic, candle-lit dinner at a five Michelin star restaurant! The kind with strolling violinists, fifty-dollar steaks, and wines from places we can't pronounce! The kind you used to dream about owning!"

"Han, I--"

"Don't interrupt! I'm on a good rant here!"

"..."

"Three years, Babe: that's how long it's been since you graduated culinary school! Three lousy years of sitting on your ass and moping! Of whining about headaches day and night instead of looking for a damn job, while I have to work two just to make rent!! Why won't you just try?!"

"..."

"Well?!"

"..."

"Ugh! Fine, you can talk now! Happy?!"

"I am trying, Han... It's just... hard. You just don't understand."

"Maybe I would understand if you'd just talk about it! We've been together nearly eight years, and for the last three it feels like I've been living with a stranger! Do you have any idea what that's like?! I'll tell you: it's Hell!"

"No... it isn't."

"What?"

"You've got no idea what Hell is."

"Err Bear, I can't hear you! If you've finally got something to say, then speak up! Don't mumble like a scared little girl!"

"...Never mind..."

"Okay, this is exactly what I'm talking about! This stupid Shrinking Violet shit! You can't even hold a conversation without backing out of it!"

"..."

"Erik?! Hey, wait a second! Where do you think you're going?!"

"Bed. I'm getting a migraine. Actually, I've had one all this time. I need to go lie down."

"Ohh, no! Nuh-uh! You're not weaseling out of this that easily! Sit your ass down and talk to me like an adult!"

"Han--"

"Sit! Your ass! Down! Now!!"

"..."

"Good boy. Was that so hard?!"

"You want me to play dead and roll over, too?"

"Sarcasm is not appreciated! This is serious, Erik! Now, we're going to sit here and talk until you figure out a way to get out of this... weird, antisocial funk you're in!"

"...Okay... Do you... want me to see somebody?"

"What, like a therapist?! Come on! Everyone knows all that head-shrinking pseudo-science is straight up bull! Besides, how the hell are you going to talk about your feelings to a complete stranger if you can't even talk to me for five minutes?!"

"Sorry... I just thought--"

"Maybe it's a medical thing? You could have some chemical or hormonal imbalance. My cousin is dating a doctor, so I know what I'm talking about!"

"My hormones and chemicals are fine, thanks... at least, I think so."

"Shush: I'm Googling! Let's see... 'symptoms of hormonal imbalance in men'. Okay, here we go: increased body fat... yep, we can check that box."

"Okay, ouch. I've only gained--"

"Significant loss of muscle mass... big checkarooni on that one!"

"Alright, so I haven't hit the gym in a few... years. I'm still in decent shape, though. I mean, my clothes still fit just fine."

"Babe, you live in sweatpants. Guys in 'decent' shape aren't ashamed to wear decent clothes! Now, where was I? Ah: fatigue... low libido... erectile dysfunction... Yes, yes, and yes!"

"I do not have ED."

"Well, we haven't done it in forever, so forgive me if I assume as much! You barely let me hug and kiss you lately either! I'm starting to wonder if you're actually in the closet!"

"Well, I'm not. You really shouldn't joke about that stuff, Han."

"I'm serious! Do... D-Do you even love me anymore, Erik?!"

"Of course I do. You're my ride or die, Hannah Ingrid Von Braun. It's just... I can't. I don't wanna talk about this right now, okay?"

"Whatever; it's fine! Forget I said anything. Okay: back to the list. Mood swings; definite yes... insomnia; yup, that checks out... irritability; oh, hell yes. Hair loss--"

"Nope. Still got it all. Guess your theory is busted."

"Uh, pump the brakes there, Sherlock. It says hair loss or sudden new hair growth can be symptoms. Considering you look like a blond wooly mammoth, I think we can consider that a 'yes'!"

"So I haven't manscaped or gotten a haircut in a while. That doesn't--"

"Four years isn't a 'while', Err Bear; it's an eternity! If it gets any longer, people will think we're sisters! Of course, the length doesn't bother me half as much as the fact that you don't wash or style it regularly anymore!"

"...Ouch... again. Any other problems you have with my appearance?"

"Oh, shut up! You know I love you, warts and all. I just wish you'd shower and change clothes more often! Aaannd... done. Your hormone supplements are ordered, and should be delivered sometime tomorrow. Thank you, Prime!"

"Wait, you did what? Is that even legal... or safe? Shouldn't I get a diagnosis from, like, an actual doctor first? What if it screws with my migraine medication?"

"They're testosterone boosters, not dime bags of heroin! You don't need that overpriced crap anyway! A bottle of Excedrin does exactly the same thing, and for a fraction of the price!"

"Um, I do need it. I have a prescription that says so, from someone with a medical degree. What I don't need is my fiancée, who dropped out of community college, telling me what I need."

"There were extenuating circumstances, and you know it! Those accusations were totally trumped up! Not my fault my roommate was a klepto and a liar! Besides, I don't need a fancy degree to tell me the man I love is in serious need of help!"

"..."

"Oh, now we're doing the silent treatment again?! What are you, six?!"

"...maybe I don't want help..."

"Erik, please for the love of all that is holy, stop mumbling!! You're driving me nuts!"

"Sorry."

"You should be!"

"..."

"Erik... I love you. I still want to marry you, no matter how crazy my mom thinks I am for it! Who knows? Maybe I am crazy. Crazy or not, I know you're hurting. All I want is to fix this as quickly as possible, so we can get our lives back! I just wish you'd talk to me... like you used to."

"..."

"Erik... please."

"..."

"Erik!?"

"What's the point?! It doesn't change what happened!!"

"...Erik...? Are you... crying? Why?! I don't--"

"Shut up! Just... shut up for half a second and listen to me!! For once!!"

"...Okay... Sorry. I'm listening."

"R-Really? Well... good! There's... f-first time for everything!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...The night before graduation, I... I-It..."

"Err Bear, it's okay. Just spit it out!"

"..."

"That night... it was a Friday, wasn't it? You and a few classmates went out for drinks to celebrate?"

"...Yeah."

"Thought so. What about it? You're not still mad that I blew it off, are you? In my defense, Sophia and I had been planning that girls' trip weekend for literal months! You should've known better than to--"

"I wish I'd never gone."

"What? Why?! I've seen the pictures from that night. Looks like you had a blast! Y'know, I kinda miss those guys you went to school with. Maybe we should get together with them? It might be fun to catch up and--"

"Han! Stop. Please. I thought you were listening?!"

"Okay, fine. Sorry."

"..."

"..."

"It was, um... supposed to be just us guys. Just students, I mean. We were... h-having a pretty great time; cutting loose, letting our hair down... then, next thing I know, Chef Paul is walking up to our table."

"Chef Paul?! Wow! That must've been a treat. I know he was always one of your favorite teachers."

"..."

"So... you've been pissy for three years because your teacher crashed your boys' night out? Honestly, Err Bear, that's--"

"Let me finish!! Please...?!"

"...Oh...kaaay? Sure..."

"Anyway, so... Chef Paul... he pulled me away from the group after a while... to talk. We... had a few more drinks. A lot more, actually. He said... I was the best chef he'd ever taught, which was... highly flattering. Y'know... at the time. He even offered me a job: head chef at his flagship restaurant in Paris."

"Paris?! You're telling me you had the chance to cook French cuisine in France?! I could have been living, eating, and shopping in Paris every day for the last three years... and you said 'no'?! What the hell, Erik?!"

"I did say 'yes'... at first. But then... Well, I was really drunk, and... I felt sick. So, we... l-left the bar, and... Ch-Chef Paul, he... He, um..."

"Yeah? What did he do? What could he have done that was so awful you passed up the opportunity of a literal lifetime, and became a jobless hermit with no ambition?!"

"..."

"Erik!!"

"...My head hurts... I need to lie down."

"Oh, that's very mature!! We're finally getting somewhere and you back out again! That's all you're good at anymore: running and hiding like a coward!"

"..."

"What? What're you looking at me like that for?!"

"..."

"Stop that, okay?! You're really starting to freak me out!"

"...I... am not... a coward."

"...what? Err Bear, I can't hear--"

"I AM NOT A COWARD!!!"

"Erik--ouch!"

"Do you have any idea how much it takes just for me to get out of bed every morning?! How it feels to wake up, and immediately wish you never had?! To live every damn day, hoping - praying! - it's your last?! The tremendous strength it takes to walk through this kitchen, past that knife block, and not drag one across my neck?!"

"Erik, stop! What is wrong with you?!"

"What's wrong?! What's wrong?! I just told you what was wrong!! You never hear anything except your own goddamn voice, do you?!"

"Erik!! Let go! You're hurting me!"

"No! I! Am! Sick! Of! This!! Nothing I do or say is good enough for you! Has ever been good enough for you! Chef Paul Baudelaire ruined my life! and you-! Y-You don't even give a damn!!"

"Erik, what--?! Ow! Erik, what're you doing?! No... No, put that down! Erik, please!!"

"Shut up! Just shut! The hell! Up!!"

"No! Ow!! Erik, let go!! I said, LET GO!!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"...Er... E-Erik...?"

"..."

"Erik...?!"

"..."

"No... Wh-What did I do?!"

"..."

"No... no, no, no, no.. Erik! Erik, I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry!!"