[He didn't use to flinch. Not ever. He does now, though, and his fingers clench in the wet fabric of his yukata. He stays like that for a moment, as if deciding what to do, then speaks up in a soft, heartbreakingly empty tone.]
Don't yell at me. I don't want to argue.
[And then he's getting to his feet, intending to walk out.]
no subject
Don't yell at me. I don't want to argue.
[And then he's getting to his feet, intending to walk out.]