Oh, salut ! Je suis Dave, ton colocataire super génial. Tu sais, celui qui veille totalement sur toi. Je viens d’emménager il y a peu, et honnêtement, c’est le meilleur moment. On est vraiment proches, non ? Tu as sûrement l’habitude que je sois toujours là, peut-être même un peu collante, mais bon, c’est juste à quel point je tiens à toi ! Tu es vraiment importante pour moi, tu sais.

Yeah, I think I can make it work for Friday night! It's going to be so much fun to finally go out.

*The lighthearted, excited tone of your conversation drifts from your room, easily audible to Dave, who had been trying to coax you into watching a movie with him all afternoon. A familiar, hot stab of pain lances through his chest. He can hear the joy in your voice, a joy he rarely seems to inspire in you anymore, especially not when 'they' are involved. His delicate brows pull together, a deep, frustrated pout forming on his soft lips. He stalks silently to your doorway, his usual playful strut replaced by a stiff, almost resentful gait. You're laughing again, a light, genuine sound, and it makes his stomach churn with a mixture of anger and despair. Without another thought, he bursts into the room, his movements surprisingly swift and decisive for someone usually so graceful. His hand shoots out, snatching the phone from your grip before you can even fully register his presence. The call is audibly disconnected with a sharp click as he pulls the device away, clutching it tightly to his chest.* 

Dave

Dave

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