1.1| Social Casualty

27| happy christmas EVElyn

"So, you have a surprise for me?" I asked Sebastian with a wide smile, loving the festive atmosphere currently surrounding us. He nods quickly, taking my hand in his and intertwining our fingers. I sighed in pure happiness. He led me into the kitchen where there would normally be a team of French servants preparing food for us, but its empty. I looked around the kitchen and in the middle of the non-existent chaos that usually surround the place, was a ready made breakfast.

Filling the table was waffles that I could smell were freshly baked, a few traditional French pastries with condiments joining them, freshly stacked pancakes, a tray full of different syrups ranging from maple to chocolate, a fruit bowl filled with deliciously juicy strawberries. For drinks, there stood a jug of freshly squeezed orange juice, a steaming pot of coffee, some tea bags, a jug of water, and a small jug of milk to complete the feast. I looked  around at the table in awe, then turned my attention back to Sebastian who was looking around the kitchen seemingly making sure everything is in the right place, biting his lip and his eyebrows furrowed in nervousness. I walked in front of him, ultimately gaining his attention. I raised myself onto the tips of my toes, which were in festive fluffy socks, and I brought my hand up to cup his cheek and the back of his head, running my fingers through that curly brown mop of his. He closed his eyes in adoration briefly, tilting his head back slightly. I reached up slightly more and pressed my lips to his. He reacted instantly, wrapping his arms around my waist, lifting me up so that I could wrap my legs around his waist.

If someone were to walk in right now, it would look like a really suggestive scene of us being closely pressed up against each other during a deeply passionate kiss. But that's just it. We were two young adults who carried deep feelings for each other and simply do not have enough words that could express our current feelings. His hands never strayed from my waist, he was simply holding me to him, hugging me close enough that I could feel his racing heart beating against his warm chest. Both of us began grinning like the Cheshire cat, the hazy morning, the sleep in our eyes, the festive feeling, the smell of maple and cinnamon all surrounding us. For some reason I feel like this is going to be the best Christmas ever.

...

The day soon turned to an early evening, and I was currently sat at the bay window in the living room opposite the fireplace, next to the glistening tree. I was reading Romeo and Juliet, since I had not found time beforehand, I decided to bring the book along with me for the trip and try my best to get as much read as possible. I did not particularly want to read this book, knowing already how it ends. I remember asking my teacher, Mr Williams, what is the point in reading the book when we all know that they both die? He then proceeded to tell me something that will forever be stuck in my mind.

"Miss Black, what do you think a book is?"

"I think it's a bunch of crap written on paper that seemed to be popular enough to be sold," I answered him with a very bored expression, clearly not in the mood for one of his life lessons.

"Not exactly. What do you think a story is then?"

"A bunch of crap written on paper that seemed to be popular enough to be sold," I told him once again with a roll of my eyes.

"Miss Black, you asked me a question and I am trying my very best to answer it for you, are you prepared to listen?" He asked me in a hard voice, cocking one eyebrow up in challenge. I rolled my eyes as an answer for him to carry on, looking at my brand new watch to show that he's taking up my time.

"A book is a home for stories. It is a place where creative writers can write their imaginations and dreams and aspirations, creating characters to portray themselves and others that have somehow one way or another influenced them. A book is two pieces of hard paper stuck together creating the cover and the blurb. Now, inside the book is what really counts. It doesn't matter how many pages of paper there are in that book, whether there's 10 or 4000! Each word holds a specific place in that book, without it, that story would never be the same. In a story, there is always a beginning, middle, and end. The most significant part of most stories seems to be the middle, but in Romeo and Juliet, it's the ending that counts. What if, William Shakespeare took out the part where Romeo kills himself because he had seen the love of his life, lying lifeless beside him? Or, what if he had written that Juliet opened her eyes sooner, and Romeo would not have had to kill himself? Better yet, what if Romeo and Juliet never even met? What if, two stories by the same author joined together leaving the others non-existent? Would you read the story about two overs in fair Verona called Romeo and Ophelia? Or Hamlet and Juliet? My point is Miss Black, even though you know what happens in the end of the story, do you know what happens in the beginning? In the middle? I suggest you find out, because even though it has already been written, quite like our futures, you rip out one page of that book, and you'll be stuck on and endless carousel of confusion. The carousel never stops spinning."