A Kiss with a Fist

Chapter Eight

                                                                                                                  A Kiss with a Fist

                                                                                                        Chapter Eight

“She can’t make you do this,” he growled. Jean was pacing back and forth in front of them, and angry scowl tattooed onto his face. Lotte didn’t pay too much attention to him, however. Jean was always angry. “Isn’t there some sort of law or something?”

“I doubt it, Jean.” Lotte yawned, nuzzling closer into Nisa’s shoulder. Lotte had found that, when under pressure, she was very good at running away. And upon realizing this, found that maybe,  she wouldn’t make a very good solider after all.

“So what? You’re letting her take you out, then?” He turned his angry gaze on him.

“Jean,” Marco’s voice was soothing, as it often was. “This isn’t your decision to make.” Marco was sitting next to Lotte, leaning against the tree almost as carelessly as she was. Only, he was more poised, and didn’t have a probable fever. His freckles were cuter, she thought.

Lotte found that, lately, she was always sleepy. “Who knows?” She mumbled. “Maybe something good will come out of this.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Like sleep.

Lotte shrugged. “I don’t know, something. I’m stronger, now, after two years. Maybe I can help mom more, since Aide can’t.”

Jean’s anger seemed to spike. “That’s it, then? I thought you wanted to join the Garrison? Weren’t you supposed to help people? Do you really want to live such a mundane life?”

Nisa shifted from beneath Lotte, disturbing the girl. “What do you even care, Jean? You’re going to be an MP. What Lotte does is of no concern to you.”

“Nisa,” Marco warned. Nisa didn’t seem to hear him, however.

“You’re nothing but a thick-headed asshole who cares about nothing more than saving his own skin. You’re going to live an easy life—you have no right to judge Lotte for wanting the same.”

Lotte’s attention was focused on Jean, now. She watched as his posture stiffened, and the way his hands tightened into fists. Lotte found herself wishing she would have studied him, more, she wished she was close enough with him that she knew just how he reacted to things that upset him and what this meant to him. And, above all, she wish she would have had more conversations with him.

Of course, Jean and Lotte had countless conversations over the past two years. She knew exactly what to say to push his buttons; she knew what it was that made him tick. She didn’t know, however, the countless small things that kept him going during the day, and helped him sleep at night. She didn’t know his reasoning behind many things, and what kept him up at night. And, if she ever really thought about it, Lotte didn’t know Jean Kirchstein at all.

This is where their relationship ended.

“Nisa…Jean,” she smiled, voice small. “It’s fine. I’ll learn to be content with my life the way it is.” Lotte never suspected that she had been born for greatness, anyhow. “I miss Aide. This will give me the time to spend more time with my brother.”

Lotte stood up. And, when she walked away, no one followed her.

*

Lotte didn’t cry very often. Even with the stress of being a good soldier and joining the Garrison gone, she still felt as though she was obligated to make someone proud of her. And, with the fact of Nadia, and how cold her mother could be, she wasn’t exactly sure who that person was to be.