Rare (Hozier)

Chapter 12

A/N: This is a really cute and sweet chapter and I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it ^w^

If you need translation for the short parts in French (there are going to be a few in the next chapter too) let me know and I'll add the translation in the story or in the comments (or in a private message if you're shy - believe me, I know the feeling), it's up to you. I didn't add it yet because I thought it would spoil the flow of the story.

Anna's POV

"Why the hell are we here? It's the biggest cliché of all time, two lovers in Paris at night!" I exposed my indignation as we walked on Champs-Élysées after the concert.

Andrew chuckled and placed a quick kiss on my forehead.

"It's always place for worse" he said quietly as we continued walking.

"Amaze me! I already know Paris like the back of my hand, please don't take me to the Eiffel tower." I begged in a tired voice.

"Anna, I'm offended! I'm a lot more creative than that!"

"We'll see..." I yawned by design to tease him.

"Oh, c'mon!"

We started laughing together and I swear there's so nicer sound than Andy's innocent giggle.

"I know this guy here" he started. "He's a painter and..."

"Oh, don't tell me you're having him make me a portrait..." I said deliberately in a bored voice, even if I would've enjoyed the idea.

"You're really not impressed by anything, but let me finish. He's also got a boat..."

"Boooooriiiiing..." I cut him off and faked a yawn but couldn't hide my smile.

"You're such a kid, let me speak!" he asked amused by my spoiled child behaviour. "...and an antique store."

I decided to keep quiet.

"Did I get your attention?"

"Somehow..." I said absorbed by the scenery.

After a little more walking we arrived in front of an ancient building which could've as well been half demolished judging by how old and ramshackle it looked. Andrew got a rusty key out of his pocket and carefully inserted it in the brass padlock. After forcing it a little, he managed to open the cracked rotten wood door and invited me inside.

"Erm, you first..." I said with reticence.

The door was so small that Andy had to bend a lot to get in. He found the switch immediately, which made me think he was very familiar with the place, and a dim yellow light filled the small wooden room with low ceiling. There was a mouldy smell which was attenuated by the one of old paper and Andrew's cologne. He loudly scraped a chair against the floor so that he could reach the window in the back and the fresh air coming in was mixed with a slight tint of freshly-baked bread, even at that late hour. Every step that we took made the antique wood floor creak loudly.

All the furniture was dry like a log cabin in winter but yet had a perfect vintage look. I couldn't say any other word when I saw the room. Hundreds of old dusty books of different sizes and colours lay in messy piles on the ground, on the feeble shelves and bookcases, on the round table with rough and sharp splinters and on the few chairs sloppily pushed around. Everything was so quiet and still that even my mind took a pause from all the crazy thinking.

"What do you think?"

Andrew's question made me startle as I didn't expect anything to break the dead silence.