translated ♛ || a. griezmann

•six•

A week passes, and every other day it's the same routine. 7:00 PM, and I meet Antoine in the stadium entrance before we walk to his room together.

I was glad that his ribs weren't broken from our first meet, but I could tell that every time we met there was a growing tension. Almost as if he had forged a wall between the two of us, and it only grew stronger and stronger every time we met up.

At first I had suspected that he was just angry because either I wasn't getting the material as fast as he would like, or he's still thinking about what happened the first time we met. Or maybe he's as done with this stupid language program as I am, and just doesn't want to deal with me anymore.

Something else I've noticed is that he doesn't seem to react that much to pain. For instance, once he cut his hand with the edge of the paper, and although it looked pretty painful, he didn't even notice until I pointed out the blood on the paper.

That was very unsettling.

He also never smiles, and personally I don't care much because our personalities actually seem quite similar, but it also nags at me that there's something wrong. We haven't met in a few days, and I'm still wondering whether or not he's going to text for our next meeting.

My thoughts are interrupted when my phone rings.

I roll over on my bed and check to see who's calling.

It's my mother.

My thumb hovers over the "Accept" button, knowing that I can't reject this call. I haven't talked with my mother in ages, and I barely even remember what her voice sounds like anymore.

"H-Hello?"

"Rosalie."

I wince when I hear her sharp, piercing voice through the phone. I immediately want to hang up and  just sleep for the rest of the day, but I know I can't.

"Y-yeah?"

"I need to speak with you about your lessons."

"W-What about them?"

"I hope you saw that you've been signed up for information technology management."

"Yeah about that, I thought you wanted me to do business?"

There's a period of silence over the phone.

"Didn't you look at your schedule?" She responds, her voice louder.

"I did."

"Then you should see that it's your second major! Business and IT management will surely get you a good job."

"Y-Yes."

"Rosalie!" She scolds through the phone.

I shudder, feeling vulnerable to her even though she isn't even near me.

"You don't have time to fool around in Spain. Your classes are far too advanced for you to have your head in the clouds in another country." she says coldly.

"Why did you send me here then?!" I yell back.

"You should be grateful, Rosalie! You must focus on your academics, period. Don't you understand?"

"I don't understand." I respond, my tone low and quiet.

"Well you must." She replies.

"Mother," I address her formally, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach, "I can't talk right now."

And before she even has time to respond, I jam my finger into the red 'End call' button.

At this point I've bottled up even more emotions than I can count, and naturally my functionality goes haywire. I'm trying to calm myself down by breathing, but the more I do it the more my chest starts to hurt.