BELLE ✩ t.c

five, the laurents

Gravel crunched under the wheels of the taxi as it slowed to a stop in the driveway of Juliette's family home. Rain pattered the windows, making the 10-step trip to the front door much more daunting than it should have been. Timothée stepped out of the car first, opening his large black umbrella and offering a hand to Juliette as she stepped out as well. The two looked at each other, a reassuring smile finding its way to Timothée's face. Julie returned the smile nervously, taking a deep breath before closing the door of the taxi, asking the driver to wait a moment, which he was happy to do.

The two of them slowly made their way up from where the taxi was soaking in the round driveway, to the front door, which had a large archway that acted as shelter from the rain. It was a large oak double door with gold handles, one that immediately took them both back to their childhood.

Before she could even knock, the door swung open and Juliette's dad came out. He was a tall, muscular Italian man in his late 40s, one that made Timothée slightly nervous, as he always had. "Ah, figlia mia!" He boasted, wrapping his arms around Juliette's much smaller frame. "È così bello vederti, amore."

She grinned and hugged him back but said nothing, as her lungs were practically being crushed. When he finally let her go, her mother had come out of the house from behind him and started babbling in French and Spanish about how much she missed the two of them.

Juliette's dad turned to Timothée, a serious look on his face. "<I trust you have not lost your French, my boy?>"

Timothée almost gulped. "<No, sir. Not at all.>" He responded.

Juliette looked away from her mother and nearly opened her mouth to tell her dad not to scare him, but stopped when her dad smiled wide and pulled Timothée in for a warm hug.

"Hanukkah sameach and merry Christmas, Timothée, so glad to have you back in our home," He said with his heavy French accent. He pulled out of the hug but left his hand on Timothée's shoulder, smiling still. "What has it been, 10 years?"

"14, monsieur."

"Wow, 14 years. And please, enough with the monsieur. Call me Marco."

Timothée smiled. Juliette's mother, Amélie, then came up and coddled Timothée in French, still on her rant about how they never visit, and how much she missed them. Marco helped bring the bags in from the taxi, Timothée joining him once he escaped Amélie's grasp, and Juliette payed the driver once she was done greeting her brother and cousin.

Camila was Juliette's cousin on her mother's side, but she still lived in Mexico with Juliette's aunt. She was mostly close with Alex and Amélie but still had a good relationship with Juliette, and had met Timothée on a few occasions, they got along well.

———

After a delicious Christmas Eve dinner, courtesy of Amélie, and a kind of awkward conversation about Timothée's performance in Call Me By Your Name, and various other movies, Juliette and Timothée were finally released to go upstairs.

Because Camila was staying at the house as well, Timothée and Juliette were sharing a room, not that either of them minded. They had a queen-sized bed each, and the huge room had beautiful light and lots of plants, so there wasn't really much to complain about anyway.

They set down their bags at their respective beds and both flopped onto their mattresses, laughing tiredly.

"Look, T. I recorded us greeting them to show how many goddamn languages we speak, it's actually insane," She laughed, pushing off her mattress and going over to his bed, sitting beside him as he propped himself on his elbows from where he was laying on his back.