SILAS, saltburn

vi. FILTHY RICH PEOPLE

CHAPTER SIX
filthy rich people

SILAS RELAXED AGAINST Felix's bed, a subtle sheen of sweat reflecting the weather's warmth. Engrossed in his flip phone game, Felix sprawled on the floor, while Oliver sat by the window, absorbed in a cigarette.

Felix's room resembled chaos, and Silas contemplated shedding his wife beater. With one earphone in, the tune of 'When The Sun Goes Down' filled his head.

"It's fucking hot," Felix complained, exhaling smoke.

Silas briefly glanced at him, his blue eyes lingering, as usual, when looking at Felix. Unbeknownst to him, Oliver's eyes observed Silas from the corner. "It is," Silas agreed before returning to his phone.

"I know," Oliver said. "What's that smell?"

Felix furrowed his brows. "Erm, I don't know?" he started making smoke rings.

"No... No, no, no," Oliver discarded remnants of a days-old meal into the trash.

Felix glanced at Silas, who only shrugged while taking another drag of his cigarette.

"What? What are you on about?" Felix propped up on his elbows and watched Oliver.

"It's disgusting, Felix," Oliver said, tossing plastic wrappers, papers, and trash into the bin.

Silas didn't intervene, as he often did when Oliver was around.

Silas was kind, perhaps a bit of a jerk sometimes —or most of the time— but overall nice. However, something held him back with Oliver Quick. He couldn't pinpoint it, but he felt a hesitation, a sense that Oliver was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Farleigh shared this sentiment, but Silas knew it was Farleigh, the boy who never trusted new people.

Felix threw his head back, and Silas could tell he was biting his tongue. "Only rich people can afford to be this filthy," Oliver continued his outburst.

"Fuck off," Silas heard Felix say as he cursed under his breath when he lost in the game.

"I mean, you've got pizza on the floor!" Oliver persisted.

"Mate, stop it. I'll do it later; it's fine," Felix reasoned, and Silas started to think Oliver was either deaf or annoying.

"No, you won't, mate. No, you won't... You'll never do it," Oliver continued around Felix's room with the orange bin.

"Yes, I will," Silas heard Felix's upset voice covered with disbelief.

"No, you won't—"

"Ollie, fucking stop! I'm not a fucking child. I can do it myself," Felix grabbed the bin from Oliver. Silas watched him sulkily clean his room, his game forgotten, and his music paused. Oliver watched too, stung. "I'm just... I'm just hot. It's boiling in these rooms," he threw things in the bin. "They'd rather we all die of heatstroke than ruin the fucking-wood-fucking-paneling by putting in air conditioning."

"Stressing about the exams?" Oliver muttered.

"I'm not stressed about the exams, Ol, you're driving me fucking..." Felix sighed. "I've got some revising to do. I might catch you later, yeah?"

Oliver hesitated. "Kings Arms later?"

"Yeah. Yeah, maybe. I'll text you, yeah?" Felix's words were followed by an awkward silence.

"Okay. Of course," Silas watched Oliver silently leave the room.

Felix sighed, dropping the bin in some corner of his room, and looked at Silas, who already had his eyes on him. "I would've insulted the shit out of him," Silas finally spoke.