"IF YOU CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS, THEN GET THE FUCK OUT!" Drew the architect yelled. His voice was deep, acidic. His eyes were cold but wide open and as always, he wore his mask. Cat Soup looked at him from a couple feet away. He was shaking and scared.
"Y-you don't mean that." He said. His eyes were welling up with pitiful and bitter tears.
"Bullshit I don't. GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
A whimper choked itself up in Soup's throat and he took a step back, his long hair brushing on the sides of his jacket. "Stop yelling at me." His voice broke. Drew stared at him in what could have been a mixture of anger, contempt, and disbelief. A tear streaked down Soup's face while he stood there quivering.
"I'M NOT FUCKING KIDDING! LEAVE!" His voice rose in volume and he picked up a little vase from the shabby window sill, proceeding to throw it at Soup as hard as he could. He yelped and ducked out of the way just in time. The little vase shattered against the wall and Soup started bawling.
"Drew, stop!" Broken porcelain lay scattered across the dusty floor.
"GET YOUR SHIT AND LEAVE!"
With his vision blurred by tears, Soup picked up a grey bag and started putting some of his clothes in it as fast as possible. Drew was still furiously waiting for him to get done. He threw his camera, the photo albums, and his wallet in as well, though his wallet was basically empty. He looked at Drew again. There were still tears running down his face. He felt like there was a pit deeper than the sea in his chest; a pit that had taken where his heart should be. Drew stared right back at him, breathing heavily with anger. He was disheveled and frightening.
"What the FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!" He snapped, shoving Soup sharply towards the door. Fear overfilled Soup's previously empty chest and made a knot in his throat. He had no idea where he could even go. So he turned to begging.
"Drew, please, I don't have anywhere I can go." His voice shook in agony and he met Drew's eyes again. They were still cold and almost inhuman. After what seemed like a lengthy pause, he looked Soup over and spoke again.
"I don't fucking care. Get out." Though the volume of his voice had lowered, it still held cruel and careless intent. Soup adjusted the grey strap resting on his shoulder.
"Please, I-" Drew cut him off mid-breath. Not with words, but with a sharp slap across his face. Soup squealed and reeled back towards the door. He nearly fell over.
"FUCKING GO!" Drew yelled. Soup could feel a bruise rising to his cheek and he looked to Drew one more time. He loved him, He really did. He had told Drew he would love him forever, no matter what. He didn't want this to be happening. More tears choked him up.
"GET OUT!" Drew yelled again as he approached him, hand pulled back and ready to hit him again. Without another word, Soup turned and ran out the door. He didn't look back once as he ran down the hallway; his shoes hitting the tattered carpet in uneven steps. He didn't even cast a glance over his shoulder as he sprinted down two flights of stairs and past two women in the lobby. Tears flooded his eyes and streamed down his face while he ran down a sidewalk in the dark. The old, orange street lights looked like stars through his blurred sight. The only things he heard were his footsteps, his breathing, and his sobs.
He just kept running until he was out of breath. He didn't want to stop running but he did. He had to. Soup stood there at the edge of an alley. He was still bawling and struggling to understand what he had done to fuck up so bad. The streets around him were mainly empty aside from some trash lying around. It was so dark where he stood. He looked around fearfully. Soup had every reason to be afraid. Every breath he took made him shiver; his breath showed in the cold night air. Where would he go? Would anyone even take him in? Was anyone even still awake?
