Peintures vivantes - Joseph Descamps

Colère

"What does no one need to know?" a confused Descamps asks me, climbing the steps and throwing open the front door, turning to look at me.

I am very shaken by what happened, and very angry at the world, but still lucid enough to realise that telling Descamps about my (ex) boyfriend's sexual orientation is the wrong thing to do right now.

"You don't care, trust me." I answer him dryly, staying under the storm. Tears start streaming down my cheeks, mingling with the raindrops; I decide to sit down on the steps, without giving the slightest consideration to Descamps, who, after a few moments, re- enters the university, closing the door behind him.

I am finally left alone to process all the things that have happened to me in such a short time: the looks between Descamps and me that I promised myself I wouldn't do, my boyfriend making out with his friend, me being defended by Descamps.

I absolutely have to talk to Vincent at some point. It can't all hang in the balance, all these months we've spent together. All the things I firmly believed in were destroyed in an instant.

That he used me as a diversion to progress with his REAL relationship? If that was the case, everything I experienced was a big, shitty set-up, and it makes me too angry.

After a few minutes or so, the door opens again, and I hear footsteps joining me on the last steps, in the rain. I recognise the sporty but elegant shoes at the same time, and the typical beige trousers. "You'd better cover up. Otherwise, if you want to get sick, tell me and I'll leave." Descamps tells me, waiting for my choice. As expected, I voluntarily decide to remain silent, to avoid being seen in a fragile moment; whenever that has happened, then he has always thrown it back in my face.

I remain motionless as soon as I hear him putting a heavy waterproof jacket on my back, stretching the hood over my hair, and ungracefully tapping my head to make sure I don't get any more wet. After that he takes a few steps back, to stay dry.

"Are you going to stay there forever?" he asks me, and I hear the sound of his lighter. After a few moments, the acrid smell of cigarette and smoke reach my nostrils, tickling them.

"Yes." I answer more and more dryly, hoping he will leave for good. Or rather, that he stays near me. I mean, I want everything and I want nothing. Without uttering a word, I reach into the coat, immediately recognising it as not mine.

The sleeves are longer than my arms by at least ten centimetres. "Why did you give me your coat?" I ask him, clutching the hood over my face. His scent reaches my heart in an instant, and all the good memories that bound us together resurface in my mind like lightning bolts in a clear sky.

"Yours is not waterproof. Since you want to stay in the rain forever, it is better to cover yourself with something more waterproof, don't you think?" he replies, and his tone of voice turns out to be slightly loving.

After a few minutes, I decided to return to the university, and after collecting all my things from the library and leaving the coat to Descamps, I headed home at a brisk pace.

As soon as I get back to my flat, I throw my water-soaked shoes in the corner of the hall, hang up my completely soaked coat, and

throw my backpack on the bench where we usually sit to put on our shoes.

While I am doing all this, I hear voices coming from the kitchen, so, without weighing it, I decide to join them. But as soon as I cross the threshold of the room, I find myself in front of Annick and Vincent intent on conversing with each other.

As soon as Vincent sees me, he springs to his feet and reaches me with an anxious step. Once again he grabs me by the shoulders, and nails his eyes in mine. I notice without astonishment that his heavenly gaze is injected with terror and anxiety.