Dream || A Collection of The Music Freaks One-Shots|| REQUESTS CLOSED

✾ Flowers of Love ✾ (Milly x Elliot)

Elliot sat hunched over a piece of paper, trying to think of what to write for his letter. He held the end of the pen to his mouth.

"A poem, maybe?" he muttered. "No... I'm no good at that. A story? Too long..."

He sighed. For the last hour or so, he had been sitting like this, trying to think of a way to confess to his crush, Millicent. Of course, he was far too shy to say it outright, so he had decided to write a letter to her. But no ideas were sticking to his head.

"Does she like reading long things? She might not read through all of it if I pour my heart out to her... But if it's too short, it won't seem genuine. Oh, who am I kidding, she probably doesn't even feel the same way!"

Elliot scowled and an ink puddle suddenly burst from his pen. It was leaking again. He rubbed his forehead, trying to calm down his frustration as he crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the waste bin, where other crumpled balls of paper already lay.

"Elliot, dear?"

A creaky voice made him turn in his chair. The lights in his room were turned off, and he could only see by a lamp on his table, but that didn't keep him from recognizing his grandmother.

"Hey, grand-mère."

Elliot's family was french, and his grandmother was born right in the heart of France, so her accent was heavily coated with its roots. His grandmother was his favourite person in the entire world, next to Milly. She was one of the only people that truly understood him. The only mysterious thing he came across with her, was that whenever he asked her a deep question about his future, she'd say in that accent of hers: 

"Qui, vivra verra, mon chéri. Qui, vivra verra."

And every time she said it, Elliot still didn't understand what it meant.

"My, what are you doing? It's nine in the evening, shouldn't you be asleep?" Elliot heard her say. Though her voice was flowy, it was easy for him to understand. He smiled softly.

"Désolé, dear grand-mère. But this letter is special."

"Is it for homework?"

"No... It's for a certain someone."

"Ah. A love letter?"

His head whipped around to look at his grandmother at those words. The corners of her eyes crinkled, and a gentle smile tugged at her lips.

"How'd you guess?"

"It's very obvious, mon chéri. I was just like you when I was around your age," she replied.

"Really? You mean you and grandfather?"

"Yes. Your grand-père and I had many adventures together. Believe it or not, I, too, wrote a love letter to him. And I can tell you that you're overthinking it."

"Huh?"

"Don't stress about what they think. Don't worry about their feelings about you. No need to make it overly sappy, but don't make it bland. Just tell them how you truly feel. Very simple."

"But... how? Are you sure? What if they don't like me back? What if I end up being rejected?" said Elliot, agitated. He bit his lip nervously.

"Qui, vivra verra, mon chéri,"  his grandmother said, like she always did.

And like always, Elliot couldn't grasp the meaning from those words. He stared back into her silvery grey eyes, looking for a signal. But slowly, his head nodded, and he began to understand. Something sparked at the back of his mind, and the words came echoing in his head. Somehow... he knew exactly what he would write now. The two exchanged a smile, and a silent sort of understanding passed through them.