THE PICTURE OF YOU -rafe cameron-

015; midsummer's night

Midsummer's had come to an end, the celebration fading into the darkness of the night. Myra dragged her tired feet around the venue picking up glasses, yawning every now and then. Mostly all of the guests had left by now. The ones that remained were scattered around, saying their goodbyes to their fellow kook friends before getting their coats from the closet. Myra had watched her brother leave earlier in the evening, by force. She wasn't sure what had happened, or what he had done this time, she hadn't had the time to talk to him yet. All she knew was that he had been a clear beacon for destruction since birth and a security guard had now escorted him out of the large venue right before him and his friends had taken off, Kiara running into his open arms. Much to her parents dismay. Myra wasn't sure if there was something going on between the two of them, but she had made a mental note to talk to her brother about it later.

As Myra looked up from a table her eyes landed on the tall kook prince once more. The one who always seemed to show up wherever she went nowadays. She was sure that she had seen him leave with his friends earlier, but now here he was again. He was stood a few feet away, his right shoulder leaned up against a white painted wooden pillar. He had a drink in his hand, a thick heavy glass with some whiskey at the bottom of it. He swirled the drink around slowly as he looked at her, the twinkling fairy lights that hung above them illuminating the strong features on his handsome face. She disliked him, but she couldn't deny how stereotypically good looking he was, in a kook kind of way. He looked calm Myra though, but drunk nevertheless. His eyes were a little darker than usual and his cheeks were a little flushed.

He didn't say anything, he just watched her walk around and pick up glasses. She ignored him, pretending to not see the way he was so obviously staring at her. He barely moved, the weight of his body relying on the pillar next to him. Myra filled her tray with glasses, refusing to make eye contact until the very last glass was picked up from the table before her. Their eyes met as she looked up, about to walk away with her tray, as Rafe quickly raised his glass as to toast her before downing the rest of the alcohol left in it.

"Are you done with that?" Myra asked a little cold, nodding her head towards the now empty glass. "This?" Rafe asked, his gaze flickering towards it, "yeah, yeah I'm done... I'm done with it". He was slurring his words ever so slightly as he pushed himself off of the pillar, striding slowly towards her. "There you go" he hummed, placing the glass down on her tray with a light thud. She sensed a hint of amusement radiating off of him. "Mhm" she muttered back, turning on her heels to walk away. She didn't thank him, yet again she didn't feel the need to, she was doing him a favour not the other way around.

Myra left the tray of dirty glasses in the kitchen before going back out to the floor. The place was now almost completely empty, only staff remaining. All the party guests had finally left. The low chatter had died out and the never ending clicking of high heels was finally over. Myra looked around to see what else needed to be done before she could go home after the long and dreadful shift she had endured amongst every kook good enough to belong to the island club around her. She saw Rafe sitting by a table in the back corner, his shoulders slumped and his head hung low. "Hey, are you alright?" she asked as she made her way over to him. He didn't look okay, she assumed that he had downed a shot or two too many. "Uhm, yeah yeah" Rafe answered lowly, glancing up at her with his eyes dazed and seemingly a little lost. The faint amusement from before was gone. She sighed as she walked off again, sensing the lie within his words.

Rafe was lost in his own thoughts, the echo of everything he should be but wasn't bouncing around in his head. All the things he wanted, all the things he needed, all the things he knew he would never become. He profoundly denied it, pushing it away as another wave of nausea hit him. Everything around him was unclear. The twinkling lights were blurry, his hands felt tingly and his bottom lip was numb. His bubble of a drunken haze soon burst as he heard something right in front of him, a light thud. He looked up slowly to see a glass of water that had been placed only a few inches away from his hands. He gazed up a little further, seeing the pouge girl standing by the corner of the table. He let his eyes wander over her blonde waves and blue eyes for a moment. She was looking at him too. "What is this?" he asked her lowly, his gaze flickering in between her and the glass before him. "It's just water" Myra clarified, "now drink it, you look like you need it"