7.5k words: a synopsis of acts: fluff, subtle angst, pondering on the past, sadness, concealed identities, confusion, flirting, doubt, the topic of loss, grieving + potential more. mind errors + vote!
Through all the distant parts of traffic, you remain glancing out of the window, intaking the traffic that overwhelms the other side of the road. Despite you being guided by the silence, unable to check your phone.
As your car stretches further down the ample road, you are greeted by a vast amount of flashing lights, leaving you to harbour yourself in your car.
The flashing lights effortlessly blind you as you raise your bag, endeavouring to cover one side of your face. But to no avail. The exclamations, the wails of your name, they are an undying sea. An eternal sea of cooked-up chaos.
"Dóloraè!" Such a name brings a sense of stress to wash over you. It wasn't that you remain disheartened by your fans, but you solely disdain the concept of paparazzi.
They tail your every move, stain their presence within your business, stone your heart and every pure motive. You hate them, with a might that's justified.
A smile and wave are distributed by you as a lot of people glance with admiration, fond of the beautifully kempt sight of you. You remain licked upon with beauty, even in the beautiful white floral dress you flaunt. A dress that holds a connotation you were unwilling to uncover to discover the ropes of freedom.
To free your mind.
All eyes desperate linger upon you, but they are eyes that fail to capture the attention of a man you are unsure of whether you adore or loathe. Attention you are unable to sense is set to cater to a part of you. A part of you that fails to unravel a slightly buried history.
"I love you all," You softly exclaim, in awe at all of the t-shirts that many wear of you. They were unfathomable t-shirts, ones that left you in exquisite awe, particularly as you remain a diligent role model for many misplaced children and squabbling adults.
You had made an impact on the world.
As the car moves at a steady pace, you plaster a soft smile upon your lips, being sure to not expose an ounce of sadness that bubbles within you. A part of you yearns to maintain a positive image, being sure to allow the world to view you in a lighting that gave them hope — despite hope being robbed from you. You didn't desire to tatter your image, not once would you enable that to occur.
Occur because you had spent an ample amount of time making sure your reputation is well sustained. It had taken you a few years to build up your social empire, thriving as an impeccable supermodel and an artist.
"Even in Paris, they love you more than they did before," Your driver's tone leaves you gleeful, finally being able to engage in familiar company.
He is almost like a dad to you.
"I'm glad they do," You intake the view outside, "I'm happy that they have someone they're able to look up to, especially the children." He observes as you smile, through his rearview mirror, a soft grin plastered on his lips.
"My little girl absolutely adores you," His tender eyes warm, "She's glad to see representation that she once never experience." His words cause you to cast a hand against your heart, softening at his words.
This was solely what you yearned for: little girls and boys to be pleased with their stereotypical differences. A standard that solely focused on formulating clones, eradicating extraordinary characteristics.
"Hey, after we're done in Paris," You glance outside of the window, "Let's be sure to visit her again. She's such a kind soul." He grows happy at your words, grateful for how caring you remain.
You remain such a soft soul.
"I wouldn't mind that," He notes, playing a song serene song: Amoeba - Clairo. The song causes you to fall into a sense of calm, relishing the streets of Paris as you are slowly falling into a slightly deserted area.
"Why's it so deserted?" Lono takes notice of your words, his eyes trailing on the GPS as you narrowly lour. A part of you grows confused towards the destination Sasha had gifted you, attempting to fathom where she inhabits.
"Probably because we're on a path towards a gated castle," His words inflict a vision of worry upon your heart.
Your eyes, they stalk up, revealing a sense of worry that taints you. Your nimble fingers hung firm against your delicate dress, toying with the ends as you begin to come to terms with it all.
"A gated castle...?" Your prickled eyes revoke your worry, leaving a trace of nothingness behind.
"Yeah, an estate owned by a princess," His shallow breathes inch on, "An independent princess who lives far away from her parents, but travels a lot." Lono's words hold gravity, leaving you to wallow in your unkempt thoughts.
"At least we both hid our identities," Eyes scrambled with scattered emotions, you halt, "I like Sasha more now." The laugh you release causes a sense of nostalgia to amass within your mind. A laugh like this hadn't occurred for a large amount of time.
"I can tell, you're not one to breach your safety, especially like this," His fingers taint the steering wheel, "I'm glad you're taking your security with you." Your eyes steer towards the ring planted against your middle finger.
"Always, Sasha's fine with that," The ring becomes no more than a blur as your words flow, a sea's worth of assurance flooding Lono's ears.
"Are you sure you're okay with staying in Paris, right after...?" It's as if he knows he had briefly overstepped a faint boundary; he picks up on you coddling your ring. Coddle the sapphire ring that was gifted to you by Eren, to honour a promise he had no knowledge of.
"Hey, you know I'm over that man!" A false sense of assurance is gifted to him and yourself. A sense of assurance that felt as if you attempted to assure yourself.
"Baby, you still wear the ring he gave you," The soft sounds of his sighs plague your ears, "Knowing you, well, if you were, you would have so quickly put it away."
"The ring's cute, leave me alone," The lines of grief sewn into your words cause Lono to thin his plump lips, unable to break through to a part of you that is unable to come to terms with the fact that Eren was no longer deferring for you.
The man's living a life you are unknowing of; he's another stranger that embraces your mind.
"I'm not saying it gets easier, but it has been almost four years," His words tear, slash and annihilate your heart, "Do you even know if he still wears his ring as you do?" Your eyes float towards the broadening roads.
"Why would you ask that?" Your eyes frazzle with threatening tears, "I don't know the man like I used to. And, I'm comfortable knowing that I haven't seen him again." Your heart thuds, pitters and skims at each gentle word you throw in his mentally full bag.
"Because you hold onto hope that he's waiting for you, especially when he was the one who left," His terms stain a sense of affirmation.
But at the same time, it leaves you attempting to fuel the truth you know that lingers. A truth that you deep down are aware of. A truth that left you battered, your heart aching, your stomach pooling with a gruelling sensation, and your mind numbed with love-sickness.
"You can't blame me, he's my first love," A frown infiltrates your glossed lips.
As Lono distributes a sigh, you fix your beret — your heart a fool to the words you spewed. A heart that still thuds effortlessly within your lover's palms. Palms you recall as tender, soft, filled with countless amounts of love, but an eerie enigma.
"You can also have a second, third, fourth and a fifth," He slightly chuckles, "You're too good to be thinking about a man. One who didn't fight for the love you two had." His words spur your heart on, teasing you with thoughts of a beautiful life with an unknown another.
"I guess you're right, but there are times when he endlessly fought." A tainted aura dances upon your frame, gifting you a sense of melancholy.
A large part of you was unable to fathom that despite how much he battled, tattering himself, he never fought at a time that determined the severed fate of the two of you. He held the end of a knife that tainted the both of you, but he never allowed that wound to ever surface — as he took comfort in a place that resides outside of your presence.
"Yet, he didn't fight when it mattered the most," He breathes, "He left when you needed him the most." His words etch through the heart of your mind, wounding your eyes with a glassy array of faltering hope.
"I guess you're right," Fingers close to the ring, you slip them away, placing your eyes upon the distracting view.
The castle glides further and further into view, injecting your eyes with scenery that held such fondness. A sensation that solely twinned with your representation of home.
"You've grown a lot, Y/n," The atmosphere dampens with sullenness, "Your father would be extremely proud of you." Soft words. Soft words of assurance.
They reassure you that every ounce of sorrow, discomfort, and unbeknownst despair was not futile — despite improvement feeling as if it wasn't in reach.
"He would also be proud of you," A sudden thud overwhelms your heart; it synced with the nature of the unknown. "He would be proud, especially knowing that his friend made sure to take his daughter and wife in as one of his own." A swarm of serenity engulfs you.
"You sound just like him," Tenderly, his fingers carefully colonise the steering wheel, "You're so kind, driven and an amazing person." Lono's finishing words cast a sentiment of calm upon you, allowing it to coddle you with settled thoughts. Not thoughts that pursued the storm instead of preventing the calm.
"Thank you, but I'm just a normal person," He's unable to plead for you to acknowledge your kindness. To acknowledge the beauty within your nature.
"Keep telling yourself that, kiddo," His fingers form a pattern against the wheel, "You're special to so many people, remember that." A fresh sense of relief sews into you. It stains a sense of calm within you; his wise words of assurance calm the unknown within you.
"You said it, not me," A subtle laugh spreads from his lips, puffing your senses with tender love. No one is able to lull you into equilibrium as he did. All negative thoughts so swiftly dissipates with gentle altering.
"If I told you, we're here?" Your eyes, ears and lips peel up — drawn to the scenery that remains beautifully invasive.
It causes you to draw your supple fists forward, your fingers explorative towards the fabric brandishing in front of you.
"I was too distracted to realise we had arrived in front of the castle," Words of truth are spewed by you. Utterances that cause Lono to pierce you with a pale scoff. He is incapable of formulating a solution that permits you a chance to portray a less guarded form.
"Call me when you feel like going back to the hotel, kiddo," Lono's broad hands alter with the efficiency of his car, compelling the car into composure.
"You know that I always will," Your lips stir with movement, "Now, I've got to be careful with my security." The airy words you spew embed an unbeknownst silence. A silence that stains a string of sadness.
It's defined, yet it lacks precision.
"They've got you already," He slips you a tender grin, "They're so fast and effective." His words are scarcely unresponsive; your car door is softly opened.
"Goodbye, Uncle Lono," The connotation leaves his eyes slightly crashing with delight, such a delightful feeling engulfs your freed soul.
"Goodbye, sweet pea," His body alters, swivelling to half-view you, "Be the best version of yourself. Don't let nobody ruin your journey here." His delicate tone is writhing with cracks, exposing you to the sullenness behind his stoic nature.
"You know me well enough to know that I won't," A softness lingers within the atmosphere; you and he practice your secret handshake.
As your hands linger by one another's, tears are plucked from the both of you. You are set to miss him.
"Now, go get them," A silence ripples between the layers of the environment; there is so much to decipher and layout across the grounds.
A new life awaits, but trails of an irreversible past travel above your head. It paints your lips with a grimace.
"I will," Through gentle cries, attainted from solitude, you watch as one of your bodyguards opens your door — after a soft click unlocks it.
"I'll make sure to bring you back your favourite French treats, for you and your family," He distributes a nod, his gaze averts as he attempts to piece himself together for you. He couldn't let you see him cry vigorously.
"That's my girl," As you clear from the vehicle, a suitcase at bay, you're greeted with the sight of your bodyguards. They perk up at the sight of you, a single one aiding you with exiting the car. The aid causes you to thank one of your guards. They were so helpful; the love you hold for them remains boundless.
"How's it been, Andreaus?" Andreaus' eyes peel at the beautiful sight of you, revealing a subtlety that you were able to grasp upon.
Through such thick and treasured hair, he finds himself so well groomed — despite the casualties he had once faced. Through a bullet wound, he still remains as reserved and kempt — a devoted man to the cause of your father. He vouched to protect every fragment of you, and he did so.
"Good," His blunt words gift assurance, since his tone holds the light of comfort — despite it being slightly reserved with mystery.
"I see, you're still as blunt as ever, Andreaus?" A slight teasing smile licks his soft lips, solely before it falters — the heart of the smile perishing.
"Duty calls," The barren nature of his words stores an ounce of stress within you. Andreaus erred to unravel his nature after an event that stole away his desire to tread upon danger.
"When does it not?" Such words captivate his ears, they leave him attempting to gain a sense of composure— refraining from engaging in such a humorous chat.
"Whenever I'm off of night duty," A light scoff is drawn from your lips as he trails beside you, your suitcase beside him, his eyes taking in parts of the perimeter. Other parts are being measured off by your other bodyguards, scoured for potential danger.
"Don't worry, I knew," Tranquility falls over you.
Slightly coordinated, you begin to slowly make your way to the front of the castle, attempting to associate Sasha's identity with the ideal place. It reeks of beauty. An unfathomable beauty that combs and places peace within your mind. It's such a lighthearted sight.
The sight of Sasha plagues your attentive eyes. All this occurs as you trail beside Andreaus, sensing a tenseness writhing from him.
It is a tenseness that made you shift your eyes towards him, intaking his gentle cerulean eyes. Something occupies his unrevealing mind, leaving you behind a blockage.
A blockage you had endured through so many years, unable to thoroughly penetrate it. On certain days, it swayed like untainted jelly. Untainted jelly many set their sight upon. On other days, it remained firm at the thought, impenetrable, concrete. It's hard to get through to the man.
"Speak your mind, André," His eyes draw further to the gates before he sighs, adapting to the gates and instantly welcoming you all.
"'Whole place is massive, 'don't wanna get lost." A glimmer of hope spreads within you, leaving you taking notice of the slight relaxation in his posture. A part of him seems rather on edge, but it cools with the icy calmness of something. Something beautiful.
"You adjusted to my home, you should be fine," A scoff is gifted by him as you both further your way through the estate, intaking such intricate designs. Designs that capture the art of the beauty that lingers, etching into the minds of all there is.
"'Took a while," He discovers delight in the conversation, from what you were able to take in. Through his words, he tucked away a gentle grin — it's muscle memory to you. Your eyes would skate to meet the yearning, ghost of a smile, against his plush lips.
"Pretty sure you're a fast learner, André?" You utter; your eyes are interlocked with a beaming Sasha.
"Learnt from the worst," His eyes scatter to your facial features. Only then, you intake his intricate eyes, absorbing every streak of colour that slumbers within his irises.
"I won't take that as an insult," Your hand brushes against your dress, "There is no competition, to begin with."
"Sure," As you both further your way through the pathway of the castle, the two of you are fated within Sasha's path.
She remains momentarily still, her lips softening with a smile, her eyes so radiant, yet so clear with admiration and a calmness. She seems to be gleeful at your presence, as you are with her own.
Peace is set to thrive.
"Hey, Sasha," You say, gifting her a swift curtsy, instead of a handshake.
Andreaus lingers. He lingers, attempting to sense if something has shifted out of place. You could sense by the way his eyes momentarily flicker, as he was intaking Sasha's demeanour. There's nothing that smears fear upon his callous palms.
"Hey, Y/n," She halts, "I'm surprised you hid your status from me." It is as if sincerity spread through Sasha's words; they hold genuine worry. But launching that aside, you could only gift her laughter — as she had done the same.
"Did you not hide that you are a whole-ass princess from me?" You speak so softly. A soft chuckle is raised from her lips, causing you to intake her precious smile. However, it seemed she has grown paler than the last encounter you had with her.
"You forgot to mention how you're also extremely famous around the world," Her hazel eyes meet your own, "I guess we're both in the dark." Chuckling overwhelms the two of you.
"Then, let's get to know each other further," As your words trickle in her ears, swaying with gentleness, you are met with a slight movement coming from a distant window. Movement from an unfamiliar man.
"I wouldn't mind that, but my bodyguard's also ears, too," Your lips part in enthralment, your focus drifting. You couldn't help but amble your eyes towards the window, your eyes directly being greeted by a man with ash-blonde hair.
His hair's in a kempt style, sculpted with a beautiful precision. He remains wearing an art apron, one that tints his body with a beautiful complexion.
It is the sort of complexion that leaves a faint sensation budding in your chest. The man holds an unfamiliar beauty. A beauty that could never pair with a heart you fail to dispose of.
Despite your eyes holding for a second, he couldn't help but hold your eyes, only to drift his attention elsewhere. Attention that caused you to finally relish the atmosphere you are in.
"I don't mind him being ears," She halts, "As long as you trust him, I don't have any reason to be resistant towards him." Andreaus tilts his bored eyes towards the window, being sure to mirror your movements — he remains on guard.
"André is too good of a man," Your lips perch together, "I love and trust him with all I have." Sasha grins at your words, especially as you softly pat his broad chest, causing him to draw his eyes towards you.
"He sure does look it," She speaks, a faint smear of crimson written upon her cheeks. Prominency displays that she has a deep crush on Andreaus already, it causes you to softly grin.
"Always has to look sharp," You utter.
"C'mon, let's go inside," Her eyes gleamed with excitement, "We have so much to do together." The paleness of her features cause you to gift a faint sigh, yearning for her to be of good condition — her tone significantly alters.
It has been a week since you had last seen her on the plane. Yet, her tone stays ghastly, tender at the touch, but drained of all life forces.
"If it involves events, I'm sitting this one out," Sasha's eyes widen as you all work your way inside the large estate. But as you do so, your mind never fails to circle back to the man within the window — his artwork looked so beautiful. He, himself, also mirrors an an elegant piece of art.
Mentally, is he like that?
"It's a beautiful event," Her eyes wield admiration, "Even if you don't know many people, it won't limit how sociable the event will be." She shifts towards the spiral stairs, being sure to glance back and take note of your presence.
"For a beautiful event, I don't have anything to wear," There's nothing fitting in your suitcase. Something that twins with the uniqueness of the castle. Despite how long you are set to take shelter there, none of the outfits you wore made up for the complexity of the castle.
"In your room, you basically have a whole new closet," She continues, "Whenever you come over, it's just there for you." You walk further through the castle with her, the endless amount of hallways leaving a sense of shock within you.
Each path is sealed with beautiful secrets, but you are unable to pick up on which secrets hold the most significance. But the significance is solely told through the fact that it is a secret.
"Thank you, Sasha," You release a slither of air, "How many people are attending?" The reluctant question is pulled from your lips as you yearn to be aware; you want your eyes to remain attentive to it all.
"A lot of people, but it's a very beautiful masked event," She informs you; she glances back at the sight of you and Andreaus.
Andreaus looks rather unconvinced about the event, attempting to discover a chance to withdraw you from so many.
"I love events," You glance at the ring of your middle finger, "I'm up for events, especially in a giant place like this. There's peace." Your eyes hover on the ring, your fingers fiddling with the sapphire ring.
"Let's find you a beautiful dress," She inches closer to the room, halting, "A beautiful one. A beautiful white dress, one that's completely magical, along with beautiful jewellery to add on." She informs you, causing you to suppress a smile at her depiction of the dress.
She's so comforting.
—
Plentiful hours had skimmed by, blurring and leaving you unable to capture the essence of it. With serenity, you linger within the large crowd, weaving effortlessly through such an ample amount of people.
An effortless mask clings to your features, concealing the firm beauty that remains beneath. No one clung to the roots of your identity. Many take in the intricate designs of your dress, their lips parting as they had never seen someone so ethereal before. Someone who painted out such a soft vibe, not an ounce of hostility being adopted by them.
Casually, you sought out the venue on your own accord, injecting the sight of the mask-coated people into your mind. The sight of them plagues you with a sense of uncertainty. You are swarmed and casually whisked away by many who hold a gentle interest in you.
They perk up at your scent, their ears prowling for more, their fingers flexing and balling in enthralment. It is obvious that many others pursue you for such an aura you displayed; you hold an unfathomable beauty. An unfathomable beauty that clings to you mentally and physically.
Andreaus lingers beside you, his mask installed as his eyes never drip from the packed scene. He fails to allow his guard to sink, seeping into the cracks and dissipating. It's obvious to others he's a figure that strives to protect you, judging by his body language and his nature.
But besides that, not an ounce of easiness caresses his beautiful features — soothing his frail bones. Bones you wish you are able to settle with delicate words. If you did so, you knew they would wound him with no more than feeble dust that is able to be exiled.
"There's so much space," Andreaus leans down to pick up on your tender words, his eyes rolling as he knew this interaction is fated to occur. But never once did you seek out a decision that wasn't your own.
"Just say that you think it's crowded," A slight grin plays upon his lips as you intake the atmosphere. A sense of loneliness pricks against your shallow skin, supple skin you deeply concealed.
"I would never admit that, André," Your lips are plagued with love; you grace his sight with elegance. You kissed his eyes with a sight of happiness. Happiness he could sense from beneath the mask. You stood as a shining ball of musk that infiltrated his mere vision. A star in the blooming, daring sky.
"Of course, you wouldn't," He adds on, being sure to linger beside you — observing movement from all around. Just the presence of him calms you.
It calms you so beautifully as others continue to become mesmerised by your outfit, attempting to control their staring.
"Let's keep moving," You mutter.
He takes a protective stance beside you, slightly altering his irritable mask. He is so used to attending parties with you, but he finds himself unable to fit into the mental aspects of the crowd. But most of the time, they viewed him as your undisclosed boyfriend.
"..." Silence graces the two of you. You intake the scene, only for your eyes to drift upon the sight of a man who remained settled within a corner.
It seems he finds not an ounce of pleasure within the scenery, snuggling to himself. A part of him, familiarity lingers. A familiarity you can't decipher within your troubled mind.
Sluggishly, your lips drift apart at his viridian gaze. It is a gaze that holds scarce sullenness, filled with beautiful wonder. The moment your eyes fall onto his own, you are left with a gentle warmth — unable to intake the atmosphere. The same occurred with him, especially as his eyes widened, only to be painted with melancholy.
The melancholy that wavers caused you to glance at the ring on your middle finger, raising your hand as his eyes widened — a beautiful sense of shock.
His eyes are art, a familiar art — but you wished to not conquer that path. But that brunette hair, and viridian pair of eyes, they hold familiarity. They remind you of your missing beloved, Eren. He could never be here; a scene like this wasn't his thing.
But those eyes?
Those eyes?
The eyes that you so deeply love?
"It's so nice in here," You revert your attention elsewhere, especially after you observe the man fail to move elsewhere. He holds no interest in the party. It is as if he has shown up, waiting for the edifying inevitable.
"It's o—"
"Hello, you look very familiar," A gentle tone, laced with wisdom, lets out. He holds an ash-brown hair colour, his frame towering over yours, but level-to-level with Andreaus. It was hard to slightly deem who he is, as the mask conceals all there was to his character.
"I'm kind of wearing a mask, right now," Andreaus sighs as the man confidently engages with you, applying a respectable amount of space — he seems respectful.
"I still recognise parts of you," His hand discover his hair, "You're the woman who was with Sasha earlier. Dóloraè?" The man plasters on, leaving your lips to slightly quirk. But your eyes linger upon the man within the corner, he exhibits familiarity.
"And, you're the man who was painting by the window?" You press your lips together, "Do I have the pleasure to know your name?"
"Jean," He gifts a soft chuckle, "Jean Kirstein." The name causes an ounce of glee to stain you; it felt nice being able to engage with others; freshness lingers.
"Nice to meet you, Jean," You urge to bring out your hand, but Andreaus inches to stop your hand — he vouched for you to be extremely cautious.
Never once had you ever remained harmed within his company; his precautionary methods are fated to amuse you.
"I'm surprised we didn't get a proper introduction earlier," His eyes softly drift to Andreaus, "And hello, it's also nice to meet you, too." Jean resists the urge to plant his hand for Andreaus to shake, only gifting an appreciative bow — conversing with you.
"You're supposed to catch me," Your gaze tickles his features, "If I'm free, feel free to speak to me, right after a quick pat down." The softness of his chuckles leaves you endeavouring to fathom how someone remains so well put together.
His demeanour, it reminds you of a man you are unable to loosen your mental ties with: Eren.
"I'd never put you in danger," His nimble fingers graze his hair, "I'm more of a protector." Andreaus finds subtlety within Jean's humour. He's unable to simply detect a threat from the man, but you could sense his guard never failed to remain aware.
He's always an ample amount of steps ahead.
"I'm also a woman who's able to protect herself," Andreaus' demeanour softens at your words, "But I appreciate it, only if it's meaningful." You further glance at the ring, so gleeful against your middle finger, yearning for tender solace.
"If that's so, I'm hoping we're able to dance tonight," The music within the atmosphere slows, "I can't help but find myself wanting to get to know you, you seem chill." His eyes feed into his words; a look of sincerity slashes at his demeanour; he holds no more than a vast truth.
"Andreaus, be sure to be nearby," Andreaus huffs at your short-wired words, "I'm going to dance with Jean. I finally need to take Lono's words aboard." Andreaus' eyes hold enthralling uncertainty. His cerulean irises are defiled with an ounce of remorse.
"Not with the way you're eyeing that bored man," Andreaus' words cause you to glimpse at him with an inch of vulnerability. He finds himself decaying beneath the gaze you settle in front of his adventuring eyes. He knows you desperately seek an ounce of excitement.
The excitement that perished because of the presence of Eren.
"Tut, tut," You grimace, "I'm guessing you're referring to Jean? 'Cause, he looks so bored waiting for me to dance with him." Andreaus chuckles at your words, intrigued with the manners you used — averting the eyes of Jean's elsewhere.
What is it you are attempting to install?
"Whatever you say, Del," He conceals your real name, "Don't let history repeat itself, 'counting on you." The lack of bluntness in Andreaus' statement warms your frail heart, resorting towards you gifting him a gingerly nod.
"'Can't promise you that," His distance swirls within your mind, "André, you know I'm not one to do as you say." He only briefly glances at you, his eyes sewn upon the delicacy of you.
But at the same time, his eyes drift to the imprisonment of the ring upon your middle finger — it coddles your finger. Not once had you ever let it go, and that was the symbolism he proposed.
He knows you still remain captivated by your memories with Eren. Memories that touch upon the topic of beauty, and memories that sincerely hugged the nature of angst. He was unsure of where to set his troubled foot. There was his support for you, but he found himself unfit towards attempting to formulate a decision, remaining at a stalemate.
"'Gotchu," Andreaus speaks; his fingers swirl with the essence of violence and the essence of enthralment. He could sense a presence you are unable to grasp.
Or maybe, you had grasped the presence? Maybe, you grew too afraid to paint a picture that reduced your mental guard?
"Let's dance," Jean plants his firm hand out, requesting your gloved hand. His head tilts with nervousness, but his eyes unclothed beauty and a sense of calm.
"Show me what you've got, Jean," Silence prevails. Jean speaks of not a fearless word; the music moulds into a much more meaningful one.
He know, know, you could sense the bottomless beauty of the song. A classical song that leaves you shifting your eyes towards the man who remained solitary, only before he guides his presence elsewhere — disappearing.
Who is he?
With gentleness, Jean's nimble fingers capture your waist, being prudent of the volume in your ample dress. His gifted fingers are ample around the fabric, only to settle at the comfortable positioning. His fawn eyes linger effortlessly as the two of you bring yourself to fall into a box step, mimicking a simple waltz.
A part of you fell victim towards the feeling of his dexterous fingers, engraining the consistency in your mind. His fingers slightly fit the mould of hands you once entrusted as a home, leaving you at mercy with your sadness.
Mentally, you frantically begged for your mind to seal that sadness away. To seal the music away and sway away your sadness.
But besides all that, it refuses to do so, allowing you to relive the sensation of Eren's undying touch.
Even in a guarded moment, you feel a fool to the feeling of the past.
The music's slow and gracious, syncing with your movements. As Jean guides the two of you further into a much more complex set of moves, your eyes drift towards the vacant spot — unable to spot the stranger that lingered.
You wonder why a large part of him filled your brain, plaguing you with the moment you first met Eren — at a stupid event like this. It was an event you were unable to wrap your head around. If you never went, you wouldn't be suffering in such a difficult manner.
You are unable to bond with anyone.
Guarded. Guarded, you were.
"You sure can dance," Your faint whisper is caught by his perking ears.
"And you sure do know how to focus on everywhere that isn't me," Jean's tone reeks of uncertainty.
It causes you to slightly brush his words off, unable to figure out why you were unable to relish beautiful moments. You wanted to capture a few moments, tell it all to the moon — so the moon holds familiarity with them.
But at the same time, you had done so with Eren. And with your doing, the gleaming moon fought for you to wed his very name.
"Make me focus on you," Your tone's brittle.
"We could always talk on the large balcony nearby, but Andreaus has to be there." Appreciation spreads within you. Though it is the bare minimum, you appreciate his regard for Andreaus — he respects him. He respects him so much, being sure to value his presence.
"Coming," Andreaus' interference causes you to softly grin, unable to not appreciate his attentiveness. His ears are always so sharp, captivating and so familiar with the branches of danger.
He's always so well prepared.
"His ears are sharp," Jean smiles, placing space between the both of you, "I've never met someone so cool before. People here suck."
"He's the best," Andreaus only scoffs as he readied himself beside you, his protective stance firmly in place. For a bodyguard, he is the best one that is available. No one's able to penetrate the brutal walls he set up.
—
Through the presence of an undisclosed event, you linger beside Jean, Andreaus also beside you. The three of you are engulfed in a conversation. Well, it's mainly you and Jean — Andreaus gifting subtle two-word sentences.
Andreaus solely treasures the company and nature of you both, so he feels no need to further add the conversation. Rather, he divulges into the art of admiration. He preferred this divided area.
He hates the nature of the party; he misses being able to register faces.
"So, Dóloraè," Jean's eyes dance towards you and Andreaus, "What brought you to Paris?" Jean's question burns a fragment of anxiety in your heart.
"This place feels like my home," You sigh, "'Just want a clean ass slate with my favourite person, Andreaus." Andreaus frowns at your styling of words, his fingers retreating to his nose bridge.
"So, I'm not your favourite person?" Softly, Jean teases you, leaving you to intake his fatal characteristics — he favours beauty.
"Nope, Andreaus is," Andreaus slightly tilts his head to the side, "The man's the best man to ever exist. I'll say no more." Andreaus' grunt floods your ears as you bring yourself to lift your mask, revealing your features to Jean.
"What happened to, I hate you, Andreaus?" Andreaus sighs, bringing himself to redirect his eloquent mask — unwilling to reorganise his unravelling hair.
"You know they both mean the same thing?" Grimacing, you limit your arms to your side, in awe at the the beauty of your dress. You look unfathomable in any criteria of fashion.
"Always so sly," Andreaus says; his hands paint the railing with a comforting warmth.
Classic.
"That ring you have is expensive, one of a kind," Your eyes slightly narrow at Jean's words, causing his cheeks to tint at your irreplaceable beauty.
"Someone, finally, gets it," Andreaus' eyes bleak with a ravenous look.
It seems as if he's ravenous towards the idea of seeping his words into your ears, gifting you a true outcome of the fatuity you idolise.
"I'm not even going to say anything, you know the answer yourself," Andreaus shifts closer to you, his eyes darting down to the ring on your middle finger.
If he told you he had seen Eren tonight? If he told you that he recognised the man, based upon the way his eyes widened at the sight of you and the ring you carried on pursuing?
He couldn't hurt you like that; he couldn't do so. The man lingered, but Andreaus sensed a certain change about him. But despite the daring change, his viridian eyes are still habituated to the ardency he reserved towards you.
It had been almost four years, and ample change had developed within you, so he knows he wouldn't tamper with such a thing. He knows you had to pursue your fate in your own way; he couldn't intervene with it all. He knew the nature of Eren.
It was a natural tugging game; you were both drawn to each other. He thought.
"I could never, André," You're captivated by the sight of an enthralled Jean, "Lono said two, three and four wouldn't hurt." You mouth to him, referring to the relationship aspect of it all.
You refused to ever sleep with another person again.
"You're insufferable," Andreaus' disappointment is displayed, "Be smart." Bewildered, you intake his eyes — observing a slight shift of guilt within.
He's being reserved, drawing a piece of information against his thundering chest. It seems he's waiting for you to discover such a thing on your own.
"I am," You narrow your eyes at him, "I'm tired, 'Dre," Jean's conflicted, sighing at your words, dreaming that he is able to spend more time within your company.
He yearns to blissfully waste away the night, upon the balcony, as just the both of you together. Together with Andreaus.
"You're gonna wanna sleep tight," His tone fades, "Yoh might have to fight someone tomorrow." Andreaus' willowy fingers overwhelm the railings as he was deciding whether or not you were to seek guidance or not.
But what he did wonder was, why was it Eren lingered at an ample gathering? He was never once spotted at events that tattered his peace, but you also did so.
"Fighting will get me nowhere," Your eyes are pulled towards Jean's, "I'd spend more time with you, Jean, but I feel a little tired." It appears as if this is solely your way of hinting that you yearn to be freed from the layered event.
Too many people.
"That's fine," Jean's eyes linger with a brief solemness, "Just tell me one more thing about you. Something I can remember you by." His tone projects slight desperation, but in a way where he wants to view you as you.
This is something he yearns to store. Store as a representation of closure.
"Y/n," You gift him a small smile, "My real name is Y/n, Jean." A tender laugh flows within your ears. He grasps onto the gold rail, his eyes twinkling with delight as you smile up at him. He looks beautiful within the moment, tinted with frail fascination.
"Wow, you have such a beautiful name," His eyes loiter on your features, "It only makes sense since it's fit for such a beautiful woman." Fireworks tint the bleak sky as he fits his words into your mind. He knows how to formulate a sense of butterflies in your stomach.
"Thank you," You tilt your gaze towards the morale-stained fireworks, "For someone like you, I'm guessing you are truly able to capture my beauty?" The fireworks slowly diminish, draining the diverse hues upon his features.
"It's hard to capture something that's not meant to be captured by one thing. Rather, the whole world," Jean's words cause you to instantly meet his eyes, overwhelmed by how much he reminded you of the moment you and Eren met. The night beneath the fireworks, on a balcony, is similar to this beautiful event.
He is all you can process, primarily when it came to men. Eren.
"If the world is one person to me?" Jean's cheeks mature into a gentle rosy hue, leaving a grin to develop on your lips.
It seems Jean is unable to focus on anything but you, completely engulfed by your impenetrable beauty. Your face, your unique features, they are so swift to bless the naked eye. An eye that has been deprived of the rare sight.
"Then, it's a beauty that they're unable to handle," His fingers drift closer to your own as the fireworks alight, "Anyone, they would be stupid to lose a genuine soul like you."
"Jean—"
"I can feel how genuine your soul is," His eyes cast to the exotic trees that sway with synchronicity, "I'm sure others felt it, too." Your hand settles upon your chest, just beneath your meaningful necklace. He couldn't help but admire the ring on your middle finger, his eyes dotting to the ground.
"And I don't feel the same?" You cast your hand towards his own, only to drive it away.
"Someone," Jean draws in air, "They're stopping you from finding yourself, I can feel it." Andreaus' eyes widen at the words Jean spewed.
It's as if Jean holds a lingering amount of awareness of your demeanour, but not enough laid for him to piece it all together.
"It's easy to say that," You glance at the moon, "But maybe that missing piece is them." Andreaus sighs as you are unable to corrode the trance that love's captured you within. You remain a victim of a fool's lovesickness.
"If it was, they would be with you right now, or searching for you," Jean's eyes linger upon the ring, "If they're the missing piece, they'll come back to you."
"I may feel like that, but I'd rather be cosy under the stars with someone who admires me, how I admire them," You glance at Jean, "The impossible." You watch Andreaus glow with boredom — he yearns to be granted a chance for an ounce of enthralment.
"You've done that before," Andreaus huffs, "I'm sure you're likely to do it again... soon." A smile frames your honey-like lips; you bury yourself in the peace of this moment.
"I wish," Gently, you alter your stance, "Now, I'm going to head to my room, just for peace." Jean chuckles at your words, casting his hand upon his cheek, enthralled by your beauty. You blessed his presence with a mere glance; no wonder you are a supermodel.
"Goodnight," He observes as you and Andreaus ready yourselves to leave, "I hope our paths cross again."
"I hope our paths also cross, too," You glance back at him, flashing a glimmer of hope — making no room for betrayal.
Naturally, you meant your clustered words — you yearn to be able to greet the man once more. But a single meeting wouldn't clear the presence of Eren scarred within your heart.
⌕ guarded.
—