Celestine

twenty five // célestine

*starting from this chapter, every dialogue in italics, "like this", means the character is speaking in French. I won't be translating it and giving you translations, 'cause I feel like it will be messy, but be aware of the language used :) *

I've never spent as much time of my day with Bruce as I have today. On his day off, he's come to my apartment at 9 a.m. to help me pack. Bruce is a much better company than I initially thought. He has a potential to be a really great friend, but now it's too late to be thinking about it. It's my last hour in this apartment. Last two hours in this city. Country.

"If I rent it, I hope my new neighbor isn't some prick," he says, dropping onto the couch with a bottle of water.

I'm not bringing much with myself. Most of the things are in the 'to sell' or 'to give away' boxes. Bruce said he'll take care of that. I bring two suitcases.

"I'll be praying for you." I huff. With a sigh, I glance around. "And another thing is ending."

"But much better things are beginning, right?" He gives me an encouraging smile.

I've been moping around for three months. Not doing anything special, barely living. Surviving, I'd say. I cut myself off from all the content with Jungkook, from all the content about me, and spent most of the time in my apartment.

I believe Jungkook is thriving, and there's a new, debuting actress - twenty one years old - taking my spot in the industry, bringing all the hype to herself. Luckily.

I've decided to move on and give myself what will make me happy, even if it means being without Jungkook. I can learn to enjoy it to the fullest without him. No one has to take the spot, I can be enough for two.

I've already taken most of the steps to live my dream life– quitting my acting career being the biggest. I'm not stopping here.

"What about this?" Bruce asks, as we're back to clearing the last pile of mess. I sigh as he shows me the flower pot handmade by Jungkook. It should stay away from me, if I really want to move on, but I ignore the tug in my stomach and reach out for it. I'm taking the Toulouse painting with me, anyways. There is no escaping.

"I'll take this with me," I say. "It's important."

"It's nice," he muses. "Where did you get it?"

"Limited edition, sorry." I chuckle, putting it on top of my suitcase to safely pack it up.

Am I running away too easily? Sometimes when I glance at the empty apartment, emptier it's ever been, I want to unpack it all again. Or just move to a smaller place in Los Angeles. As much as I want to go, there are still things (cough, a person) in LA that tie me to that spot. Moving out of the country equals giving up hope that things could ever get better.

I can be happy without Jungkook, and I can live my life without Jungkook, but do I really want it?

~~~

Two hours at the airport and eleven hours on the plane later, I cross another airport, dragging two suitcases behind me. I'm not going to act like it doesn't hurt, because it stings in my chest like hell. If I didn't know any better, I'd say my heart is giving up. We've been in the same city all this time, and we're eleven hours apart now. This whole moving on thing is harder than I thought.

But I remind myself I'm back in Toulouse. I'm going to meet my family. I'm going to come back home. I'm going to be happy. And for a moment all I feel is pure relief.