Beneath the Quiet Sea [Freminet x reader]

00

Rain slid endlessly down the glass windows of Fontaine like the hydro dragon himself had forgotten how to stop crying.

By now, most people didn't even seem to notice it anymore. They walked through the streets with effortless familiarity, stepping around puddles without looking down, umbrellas tilted against the wind while conversations carried on as if the cold drizzle soaking the entire city was nothing more than background decoration.

You, unfortunately, noticed every single drop.

The fabric of your sleeves clung uncomfortably to your skin as you pushed your way through the crowds, carefully balancing the paper bag tucked beneath your arm while trying not to collide with the people flooding the streets. Someone brushed harshly against your shoulder without apologizing, nearly sending you stumbling into the railing beside the canal.

You caught yourself just in time and shot an irritated glare toward the stranger's back, though they disappeared into the crowd before you could even consider saying anything.

The city center was always unbearable around this time of day.

Magicians played beneath covered stands while traveling merchants advertised products no one actually needed, their voices blending together with the distant hum of machinery and the rhythmic clicking of clockwork meka patrolling the streets. Golden lights reflected across the canals in distorted ribbons, turning the dark water into something almost beautiful despite the rain disturbing its surface every few seconds.

You pulled your hood farther over your head and continued walking.

The further you moved away from the center of Fontaine, the quieter everything became. The extravagant buildings slowly gave way to older neighborhoods where the streets narrowed and the crowds thinned out, where flower boxes rested on windowsills and the sound of rushing water became softer, calmer.

You preferred this part of the city.

It felt more human.

By the time you finally reached your apartment building, your patience had worn dangerously thin. Your shoes were soaked, your fingers were freezing, and the paper bag carrying your pastries had started softening from the rain.

The old building greted you with its usual groan as you pushed open the entrance door.

Somewhere upstairs, pipes rattled loudly enough to sound mildly threatening.

"Please don't explode today," you muttered toward the ceiling while climbing the stairs.

The landlord had promised to fix the plumbing weeks ago, but judging by the increasingly concerning noises coming from the walls, he had forgotten.

You unlocked your apartment door with a tired sigh and immediately felt some of the tension leave your shoulders the second you stepped inside.

The room was quiet and lonely, but rightfully so.

There was a reason the apartment felt so unnaturally quiet all the time.

A few months ago, another person had still lived there.

Your mother's shoes had once sat beside the entrance in careless positions, her perfume lingering faintly in the hallway long after she left for work. Sometimes music used to play softly from her room late at night while she stayed awake doing... something. You never really knew what.

Then one morning, she was simply gone.

No goodbye. No explanation waiting on the kitchen table. No tearful apology about how she "had no other choice."

Just gone

You had woken up to silence and an envelope thick enough to make your stomach drop the second you picked it up.