inspired by 'we cry together' minus the fucking and all the extreme, extreme shit.
shout out to my man Dante (if you paid attention to the video you'd know).

The cramped apartment seemed smaller than usual, the walls closing in as the tension between them became unbearable. The air was thick with anger, the kind that had been simmering for days, threatening to boil over. Simone stood in the middle of the living room, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Dante, slouched against the kitchen counter with a beer in his hand, looked at her with an expression that teetered between disdain and exhaustion.

"Don't just stand there, say something," Simone spat, her voice trembling with fury.

Dante raised his eyebrows, his voice calm but dripping with venom. "Say what, Simone? What exactly do you want me to say? That I'm sorry for something I didn't even do?"

She scoffed, rolling her eyes so hard it hurt. "You didn't do it, huh? That's your story? You think I'm stupid? You think I don't notice how you've been coming home late, smelling like some cheap-ass perfume?"

Dante slammed the beer bottle down on the counter, his voice rising. "Oh, so now I'm a liar? You always gotta make up some bullshit in your head. Maybe you should check your insecurities instead of throwing them at me!"

Simone took a step forward, her face inches from his. "Don't you dare try to flip this on me, Dante! You're the one out here acting shady, not answering your phone, disappearing for hours. What the hell am I supposed to think?"

Dante laughed, a short, bitter sound that echoed in the tense space between them. "You know what? Maybe if you weren't so busy playing detective, you'd see how much I'm actually doing for us! But no, all you ever do is complain and accuse me of shit that ain't true."

Her voice cracked as she shouted, "Doing for us? Doing for us? Boy, all you do is sit around talking about your dreams like that's gonna pay the bills. You think writing some bars is gonna fix this mess?"

Dante stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Don't disrespect my craft, Simone. You think I'm out here for fun? I'm grinding! Something you clearly don't understand since all you do is nag and act like a damn victim."

Simone laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Oh, I'm the victim? That's rich coming from a man who's too busy chasing skirts to take care of what's right in front of him."

Dante's face twisted into a sneer. "And what about you, huh? You always got some dude in your DMs, liking your pics, leaving heart eyes. But yeah, I'm the one who's unfaithful, right?"

Simone threw up her hands, her voice breaking into a scream. "Are you kidding me right now? You're really gonna sit here and accuse me of cheating when you're the one who can't even look me in the eye half the time?"

Dante's voice erupted like a volcano. "Because I'm tired of your bullshit, Simone! You wanna act like you're some angel when you ain't! You're just as toxic as me, if not worse!"

The words hit her like a slap, but she refused to let him see the hurt. Instead, she leaned in, her voice low and venomous. "You're right. I am toxic. Toxic for staying with your sorry ass for this long."

For a moment, the room went silent, the weight of her words settling like a bomb that had just detonated. Dante stared at her, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing.

Finally, Simone broke the silence. "You know what? I'm done. You can keep your lies, your excuses, your little dreams. I'm out."

Dante scoffed, but his voice faltered. "Fine, go ahead! Run away like you always do. That's all you're good at anyway."

Simone grabbed her coat and bag, her hands shaking as she shoved her keys into her pocket. "At least I'm good at something, Dante. You? You'll be stuck right here, in this shitty little apartment, blaming everyone but yourself."

She stormed toward the door, but before she could open it, Dante called after her, his voice softer, almost pleading. "Simone—"

But she didn't stop. She didn't look back. The door slammed behind her, leaving Dante alone in the silence of what they had destroyed. The beer on the counter was still half-full, but he didn't reach for it. Instead, he sank into the couch, staring at the spot where she had stood, the sound of her voice still ringing in his ears.

He picked up his phone and stared at the screen, tempted to text her, to say something—anything. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, he sat there, letting the silence consume him, knowing deep down that they were both at fault but too stubborn to admit it. Too broken to fix what they had shattered.