THE PICTURE OF YOU -rafe cameron-

069; day four

Day four leading up to the island club party,
Myra walked out of the large building with quick steps. The clock had passed midnight, now being almost one in the morning. Her shift had dragged on for about two and a half hours more than originally planned, making her yawns an evident thing. Myra sighed, throwing her backpack onto her back, holding onto the straps of it firmly. Her old worn out shoes dragged against the street, tiredness aching throughout her whole body. The outside of the club was a lot more calm than the inside of the restaurant, making Myra's tense shoulders finally slump a bit. It was dark around her, but the faint yellow light of the street lamps illuminated the paved streets. Myra gazed out towards the dark sea, hearing the waves roll onto shore. Such a relaxing sound. It was almost too dark to see anything, except from the small light coming from the lighthouse that circulated the sea.

"Look who it is... little miss perfect"

Myra snapped around, startled by the sudden sound cutting through the midnight air. She had thought she was alone out by the club, not having seen anyone. She had been focused on the ocean before her. She was caught off guard, but not too worried for the voice was familiar. Her gaze soon landed upon Rafe, seeing the way he towered before her. The dim light coming from the street lights danced over his tall frame. Myra thought he looked tired, but knew that it was more so due to the substances he had engulfed his system with. "I've never said I'm perfect" Myra pointed out, putting her hands on her hips as she gazed at Rafe. He pushed his lips together, slowly nodding his head. He now seemed a little upset, a distant look in his usually bright blue eyes. They were still bloodshot and slightly blown. "But you think you're some kind of a saint?" Rafe questioned, his voice coming off as loud and harsh. "I..." Myra began to speak, but the tall kook boy cut her off. "You think you can tell me what I'm supposed to do huh?" he urged, taking a step closer to her as he tapped his fingertips onto his chest profusely, "you think I, a kook, should listen to you?". Myra rolled her eyes. Rafe was once more making a difference of their social statuses, even though he often claimed to not care. "How much have you had to drink?" Myra asked, worry laced within her words. Rafe laughed, a erratic kind of laughter ringing out around them. It made Myra feel uncomfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest, not really thinking about it. It was more so a habit of self protection for her. "Why does that matter to you?" Rafe questioned, the tone of his voice still laced with some kind of anger and frustration. Myra watched as he laced his eyebrows together, darkness flooding his orbs. "Cause you're drunk and high on whatever and clearly upset and I..." Myra began to explain, only to be interrupted by Rafe once more. "It's my life, I get to decide what I do" he shouted, making her jump a little. Myra pushed her lips together, remaining still. Rafe was acting awfully stubborn.

Myra's silence seemingly only egged on the frustration for Rafe. He took another step closer to her, making her step back. "You can't tell me what to do" he repeated, needing it to be perfectly clear to her. "I know that and I'm not trying to tell you how to live your life Rafe" Myra exclaimed, standing up for herself. "Then why are you commenting on me having a drink at the bar?" he pushed, clenching his jaw. "You're not twenty one" Myra pointed out, making Rafe shake his head profusely. "No, that wasn't what you said back there" Rafe huffed, his loud voice turning into something softer. Softer yes, but not nicer by any means. He sounded almost devilish. Like the cocaine and the alcohol had completely overtaken him, turning him into someone else. "You didn't comment on my age Myra, that wasn't the issue" Rafe added, staring down at her, "you were commenting my choices, like I'm doing something wrong". "You don't think being high as a kite while downing drink after drink on a ordinary Tuesday night is questionable?" Myra prompted, raising her eyebrows towards the tall boy. She kept her arms crossed over her small chest, standing her ground. Rafe scoffed, another frantic laughter following it. "I told you, it's summer break and I'm enjoying my time off" he snarled, gritting his teeth as his gaze found it's way back to her, "a lot of people sit down at the bar on a Tuesday when it's summer to have a drink". "One drink yes, not ten" Myra urged, letting her hands fall to her sides. She was growing frustrated now, feeling like Rafe wasn't listening to her. "I didn't have ten" he spat. "Oh sorry, I stopped counting after ten, what was it then? Twelve? Fifteen? Twenty?" Myra spat right back, stepping closer to Rafe. "You're out of your fucking mind" Rafe scoffed, shaking his head like he couldn't believe her words, her words of truth.  "Yeah fine, whatever" Myra laughed, gazing away, "whatever excuse you can make up this time is just fine". Rafe didn't like the way she obviously mocked him. "It's not an excuse, a lot of people have a couple of drinks everyday during summer" Rafe went on, still pushing his agenda. "Alright" Myra shrugged her shoulders, looking back at Rafe, "are they all high too?"