Chapter Text
Honestly? Simon can’t even be mad that his car broke down just this morning. Actually, it’s kind of relaxing to just sit in the subway without worrying when the next person is gonna make you slam your brakes so hard that you think your foot is gonna crash through the car’s floor. He enjoys sitting there for the 30 minutes that it takes from Jordan’s place to his and mind his own business, surrounded by complete silence (luckily, this subway isn’t that busy at that time of the day so there’s not many people around).
However, this is not how his evening is going.
Instead, there’s this dude sitting a few rows in front of him. Technically not a bad thing - if he weren’t shouting into his phone. Well, shouting’s not exactly the real word. He’s talking loudly, yes, but his voice is mostly calm - and yet determined.
“Camille, you will listen to me now!”, the guy says, his voice dripping of annoyance. “... No, you’ve been pulling this shit for years by now! Seriously, that’s all you! … You know what? I’m coming home, collect some of my stuff and then I’m leaving.”
Simon can’t see his face, but he hears a bit of everything - even though his voice is mostly monotone. There’s a hint of hurt, of anger, of tiredness.
He sees how the guy hangs up, letting out a sigh, and considers going over - to ask if he’s alright. From the sounds of it, that guy just broke up with his girlfriend over phone, so shit must’ve really been going down.
The guy lets out a loud sigh before throwing his phone against the wall in front of him. Like, actually throwing. Nope, Simon’s not going over there after all. He wouldn’t want to be beaten up because he wanted to be helpful.
The phone bounces back from the wall, down onto a seat and from there it jumped to the ground.
“Oh, fuck, please--!”, the guy hisses, jumping to his feet and walking over to where his phone has landed. He kneels down to pick it up and when he sees the screen, he makes a noise that sounds like he’s about to explode.
Simon catches a view of his face when he walks back to his seat - frustration and anger written onto it. He narrows his brows when he sees Simon looking at him, so he averts his eyes quickly.
He hopes he survives the rest of the way back home. It’s only a couple more stations, at least.
-
Raphael is aware of the fact that living with Camille Belcourt has never been a good idea. Their time together has been coined by a lot of arguments - and yet, since they’re both more of the sulking type, it’s always been pretty quiet.
Camille’s fucked him over quite a lot. From not paying rent, over using his things up to not participating in the assignment that’s due next week, she’s pretty much turned his life into hell.
It’s been the last straw when she didn’t just declare that she’s not going to do anything for the group work, but that she expects him to do everything and earn the profit.
All’s been piling up for a while now, so much that he couldn’t even stop himself from getting into an argument with her while being on public transport.
He’s meant what he’s said. Once he arrived at home, he’s just gonna pack a bag and then leave. Where to, he doesn’t know, but it’s probably better than staying in the same apartment as that puta.
Camille doesn’t even talk to him when he enters the flat. Not that he expected her to. Instead, she’s sitting in the living room, her legs crossed as she sits in one of the armchairs. Her lips are pursed as she watches him move through the room, an eyebrow raised - but she doesn’t say anything.
Raphael takes out a bag, stuffing random clothes into it. He feels anger come up his spine - at Camille’s whole attitude, at his family who have pursuaded him to move together with her - at himself for thinking she could get better. He’s so mad he doesn’t even care if he wrinkles his jackets.
“So, where will you be staying?”, Camille asks when he comes out of his room, making him stop dead on his tracks.
Truth be told, he doesn’t know where to go. There’s next to nobody he really knows in this town but there’s no way in hell that he’d tell her that. He can only imagine her cruel smile at that, how she’d act superior and use her sweet voice in order to talk him into staying.
“None of your business.”, he says, still facing the door.
“Oh, come on, Raphi.”, Camille purrs, stepping up to him and letting a hand trace from his shoulder down to his chest. “You know you can’t leave.”
“Oh yeah?”, Raphael asks, shooting a look at her over his shoulder, a smirk on his face. “Mírame.”