Athos is crying. He doesn't cry much, and when he does, he does so silently, but he has good cause for crying. Seventy-two hours ago, Aramis yelled at him and told him to get out of his house. Seventy-one hours ago (not that he's counting), Athos had packed together a bag and had left Aramis' apartments. He figured that, given some time to cool off, Aramis would be okay with talking to him. Athos had tried texting him, he'd tried calling, he'd even tried texting Porthos, but Aramis steadfastly refused to talk to him. So now, he is solving this in the other way he knows how, which is with solitary self-pity. He muses that the floor on which he is sitting is, in fact, rather lovely, and that he quite enjoys it. He hasn't been back to this particular apartment in over a year, but that's part of living with someone, he supposes. You leave places you used to frequent behind, and build new places to frequent. He's also relatively sure that this is one of the few places that Aramis will not think to look for him. Porthos he isn't sure about, but to be perfectly honest, he doesn't even think Aramis is looking for him. Porthos might look for him, if only to tell him he screwed up. Athos wouldn't actually even know if Aramis tried to call him back- his phone's been dead for over an hour. He'll plug it in at some point. Probably. Maybe not. There is, suddenly, a banging on the door, although Athos cannot be too sure that it isn't just a banging in his head. When it persists irregularly, though, he knows it isn't. "ATHOS," cries a voice through the door. "OLIVIER ATHOS DE LA FERE!!" The voice sounds a little broken and tired from yelling. "Please," it says softly. "Please." Athos drags himself off of the floor and flings the door open. He comes face-to-face with the man who threw him out just a day ago, looking broken and tired and dejected. "May I come in," he asks. "Of course you may," Athos says, and there is (or, at least, should be) something biting behind his words. "Athos, I am so, so sorry," Aramis says. "You should have said that yesterday," Athos bites out. "You should have said that yesterday." Aramis had said- *things* to Athos, ones that should not ever have been said, not if Aramis legitimately cared about Athos. "What do you want," Athos spits, and heis words turn to ash on his tongue. "You, I want you, I am so sorry, Athos please-" Himself is the one thing Athos can no longer give to Aramis. Not right now, maybe not ever. He isn't sure yet. "Get. Out," he says, instead of the million other things that are spinning in his head. "Get. Out." And Aramis leaves.