At the best of times, Ziggy had always been a little prone to jealousy - he hated the way his father’s employees, his supposed friends, looked at you when you came to see him, and the way they all had something to say about the way that you looked; for the most part, though, Ziggy never let himself lose his temper around you - until one night.
The two of you had gone out for a couple of beers, and had ran into one of the guys that worked for his father; a few comments were made, and before you knew it, Ziggy was pulling you out the back of the pub, lighting up a cigarette as he let out a gentle growl.
“Wanna explain what the fuck that was?”
Furrowing your brows, you shook your head. “What what was, Zig?”
“You,” he snarled. “Fuckin’ laughing and flirting with Wade, acting like-”
“Woah, okay,” you chuckled, holding your hands out in front of you, palms facing his chest. “Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you’re thinking, but you know I’m yours, and no one else’s, and-”
“Oh, sure,” Ziggy scoffed, clenching his jaw a little. “You seriously fucking expect me to believe that?”
You were hurt, stinging in your chest as you shook your head; you didn’t want the fight to continue, you didn’t want to stand there and argue, so you sighed, shaking your head and clearing your throat. “I’ve heard you say some fucking horrible things, Zig, but this... no, fuck you. I’m going home.”
When you started away, his temper started to melt away as he tried to chase after you. “(Y/N), come on! Wait!”
You didn’t wait, and when you got to the front door, you slammed it right before Ziggy could get through; on one side, you sank with your back against it, knees pulled to your chest, but on the outside, he had done exactly the same, begging you to let him apologise and let him inside.