Julien's POV
I sit still in the driveway, not having let go of the steering wheel just yet.
Relax. It's fine. Everything is going to be fine.
I force myself to release the tension in my shoulders but feel it overtake me again as soon as I slump in the seat. Five minutes. I'll go inside in five.
To preoccupy my thoughts I look around Amaltheia's car. It smells like her. There's a tinge of her floral perfume in the air and an overall scent of something fruity and refreshing in a muted way. It's not too sweet but it's not vibrant either.
I notice polaroid photos attached to a strip of intertwined cerulean thread hanging from the car mirror. There are three; the first is of her and her friend Noor. Noor is staring straight ahead with a deadpan face and Amaltheia is looking at her, smiling wide. Her hair is super curly and much shorter than it is now.
08/03/19 – happy birthday noor
Two years ago. Her face does look more youthful. The second picture is one of two kids, a little girl and a slightly older-looking boy. I squint at the picture. Does Amaltheia have siblings? An older brother maybe.
The last picture is one of an older couple–probably her parents. It's been taken in the middle of a dance. They both look very young. I flip it over to check if there's a date and see 1998.
I wonder what the second one's date is but instead of finding one, I see another picture. This one is a teenage Amaltheia. She's lying on a bed stomach-down, cupping a boy's cheek in the form of a hug. Her hair is straightened and even shorter, reaching till only her chin.
The boy smiles the barest. He wears small hoops in his ears and his blond hair is messy. Yet he looks oddly at peace with his hand resting on her elbow. I wonder if it's a show of affection. But Amaltheia looks completely happy. Happier than I've ever seen her.
With a final look, I let go of the polaroid pictures, feeling a little ashamed I invaded her privacy like that. I wouldn't be here if I just had my own car.
I recall our last conversation and a pang of guilt for snapping at her causes my stomach to dip. I couldn't say yes. Because yes to her driving me home would entail a lot more I'm not ready for. I'm not sure if I want her to know it.
Pulling the car handle, I step out and lock the car. I've just gotten to the porch when the door opens and Maman smiles wides at me.
"Joyeux anniversaire, mon chou."
[Translation: Happy birthday, my cabbage (a french endearment lol)]
"Thank you, Maman."
I hug her and she squeezes me tight. The smell of her and her perfume wafts up to my nose and I breathe it in.
She lets me go and frowns, "Why are you so late? It's almost 7."
"I'm sorry," I apologize and kiss her cheek.
She starts to smile again and exclaims, "My baby's 20."
I lightly scoff but my smile drops when I see someone walk into view. My stomach coils, dread filling me up from head to toe. How the fuck is he here?
"Hey Jules," Sebastien grins.
I'm unable to respond, still not quite sure he's even in front of me. He walks towards me and claps my back before withdrawing.
"What? I don't even get a hello?" he attempts to tease.
I stare at him. He looks different. He's grown out his hair and has streaks of a lighter blond running through the strands. But at the same time no matter how much his physical appearance might have changed, he also looks the same. And I don't know how he could be.
"What the fuck are you doing here?"
"Julien! Langage," Maman warns.
[Translation: language]
I wonder if she knew he was coming and turn to look at her. Her face tells me nothing. Seb laughs. "I just thought to visit my baby brother for his 20th birthday."
I look at him blank-faced and raise an eyebrow. "After two years? You should have made it five."
"That's rude, Jules." His smile doesn't falter and before he could say anything more, Char walks in. For a second, I'm relieved. She'd feel the same way. But then she sends Seb a small smile and hugs me warmly.
"I thought you were coming two hours earlier."
"I got a little late," I murmur, still feeling disoriented.
"Happy birthday," she grins.
I ruffle her hair. "Thanks, Char."
She hesitates, wringing her hands before saying, "Seb got here last night."
And no one could tell me? I want to say those words aloud. I nod, trying not to stay on edge. He could go back for all I fucking care.
Throughout the evening, it's weird to me how accepting they all are of Seb coming back. It doesn't make any sense. All I remember when I see Sebastien is him walking out of that door two years ago.
Papa's loud laugh makes me glance at the two sitting across the dining table. I haven't heard him laugh in a long time. He has always gotten along with Seb more than with me. Maybe it's because Seb is doing law like him. Papa studied law and worked as a lawyer before going into politics. I used to spend more time with Maman, mainly because I loved art as a child. We would make something new every week and it used to be the highlight of my days.
I loved creation because it made me proud. That I had the potential and power to create. Bring something new into this world. I forgot along the way that the world could take.
"You don't like the bouillabaisse? Your favourite?
"Non, c'est delicieux," I shake my head. "Merci, Maman."
[Translation: No, it's delicious]
She hums. "You're barely touching it mais bon."
[Translation: but fine]
I would never tell my family this but I hate coming back to this house. I just hate it. All I see are memories and emptiness.
Papa and Maman ask me about school and I begrudging let it pass that I have a roommate.
"Why?" Papa asks.
"They needed a place to stay. It's only till June."
"You hate sharing your space with anyone," Char comments in surprise. "I'd like to see this roommate."
I roll my eyes. I don't tell her that she's already met her.
"How's work at the garage? Are you able to manage it all?" Maman asks.
"Yeah, it keeps me busy," I shrug. I've always been a hands-on learner. I like doing things physically and working at the garage lets me do that.
"Some time for relaxation is necessary as well but it's good you're taking initiative," Papa nods. His words prompt a weird mix of feelings inside me. It's been a long time since he acknowledged something I've been doing.
Seb tells Char something and she nudges her shoulder against his as she chuckles. They had always been closer. Now looking at my family, I realize I'd never been as close with them as they have with each other. And it makes me feel like an outsider. As if there's a clear divide on the dining table, separating me from them.
I blink my thoughts away and Papa and Maman talk about some social events we'll need to attend in a few weeks. After dinner when I'm left alone with them, they stare at me uncannily.
"What's wrong?"
Maman murmurs something I can't make out and gifts me art supplies as she does each year. I thank her and peek into the box, seeing the standard materials I use. Then my eye catches something different and I glance at her, "Charcoal pencils?"
She chuckles. "Something new. Give it a try hmm?"
I don't tell her that I have and failed drastically. It never came out the way I wanted it to.
"Teach me instead."
"I will once you show me an attempt."
She always wants me to try something independently before actually teaching it. She believes it's the best form of learning. "Fine."
"Good," she nods.
Papa grabs a tall wrapped box from the corner and sets it in front of me. "What's this?"
He hesitates, "It's...a present."
I raise my eyebrows. "I can see that."
He sends me an unimpressed look and glances at Maman. My confusion begins to turn into slight apprehension.
"It's from Jade," Maman says softly.
I feel my stomach drop. "What?"
"We found it addressed to you..." Papa trails off. Both of them stare at my face, gauging my reaction.
My mouth dries and my heart rate picks up. What the fuck. How even...
"Is this a joke?"
A twisted part of me wants it to be. Blame it on fucking April Fools, I don't care. I don't want anything from Jade.
"No."
"I don't want it," I immediately respond quietly.
Maman watches me carefully but I don't allow emotion to register on my face. Blood pounds in my ears and my body hums with rage and pain. I don't even want to touch the box.
"I'll keep it upstairs alright?"
I nod stiffly because I have to but there's no way I'm touching it. Maman takes it from Papa and carries it upstairs. He turns to stand beside me and we both stare out the window
"You know the landfill south of us?"
"Yeah?"
"They're turning it into a golf course."
"Really?"
"Yeah. It'll be one of the biggest."
"Are you involved in the project?"
"Somewhat."
I glance at him, a small smile curling up on my lips. "That means a yes, doesn't it?"
He merely snickers. Papa has always wanted to open a golf course. He has a lot of memories attached to the sport, especially with grand-pére.
[Translation: grandpa]
"I get to name it."
"Of course you do." Being a member of Parliament gives you those perks I assume. "Have you thought of anything?"
"Avril Golf and Country Club."
"Avril?" I repeat. "Après arrière-grand-mère?"
[Translation: after great-grandma]
"Oui, son vœu le plus cher était d'ouvrir un terrain de golf un jour."
[Translation: yes, his greatest wish was to open a golf course one day.]
"And name it after his mother?"
"Yes," he sighs.
"I'm glad it's happening."
"Me too...I often find myself thinking about the end of the process. When everything is complete."
I understand his somber tone. It's a common feeling after completing something you've been so emotionally invested in. "The 'now whats'."
He hums deeply and releases a sigh. "Come down to the site one day. I'll show you around."
"Yeah, sure."
"Visit your Maman more often too. She doesn't like you to be so far away."
"I'm only half an hour away. And she's busy herself all the time."
"Je sais, but she misses you."
[Translation: I know]
"I went to Ella's."
"Vraiment?" he asks in surprise. "Your first time going there in a while hmm?"
"Yeah, I went with a friend. Met Isabel and Sam. They said to come over one day. Told me to tell you they say hello."
"We'll visit them soon. It's been long overdue. Did you see Ella?"
"I did," I hesitate. "But she left before I could speak with her. She's upset."
"Well, she always did like you," he chuckles.
And so everyone keeps telling me. "Quoi? Why didn't I ever know this?"
[Translation: what]
He taps my head. "C'est pourquoi. Tourjours perdu dans tes pensées, Julien."
[Translation: This is why. Always lost in your thoughts, Julien]
I roll my eyes. It's been a running joke in my family ever since I was young.
Maman comes down and Papa excitedly calls out to her, "Estelle, dessert!" He's really a dessert fanatic.
I feel the need to go to the bathroom and walk by Maman who tells me, "I've made éclairs."
I nod, "I'll be down in a bit."
Éclairs are a tradition on our birthdays. Instead of cakes, Maman makes éclairs. Mainly because we all loved them. But my siblings more than me. I didn't mind éclairs but I never loved them as much either.
As I walk up the stairs, I overhear Charlotte telling Seb she has a group call for a project. "You'll crush it. Good luck, Lottie."
She giggles. "Thanks. Now shoo."
He closes her door until we're face to face. I step past him and walk into my room. Of course, he has to follow me. The disgust and anger that rise up my throat when I look at him are difficult to control.
"What do you want?"
"Just to talk. How's everything?" he asks slowly.
I'm silent for a few seconds. I've missed him but at the same time, I want him gone. I hate myself for missing him. What happened to all the unanswered calls and messages? What happened to all of the promises?
It makes me so fucking angry that he's back and acting like he's done nothing wrong.
"Can we cut the shit here?"
"What do you mean?" He looks genuinely confused and it makes me feel guilty for a moment. But only a moment. He can't possibly be that clueless. He's not stupid.
"Do you really care how I've been? How Char has been?"
He frowns. "Where are you getting at?"
If he wants it straight, I'll give it to him straight. "You left Seb."
The left corner of his lip twitches like it always does when he's upset. "But I'm back."
"After two years," I deadpan. "Where were these 'how's everything' comments and questions then?"
He stays silent. And it's because we both know the answer.
"So don't act like I'm being the difficult one here all pissed and shit. It doesn't change anything."
"You're right. It doesn't." He lifts his dark, blue eyes to mine. "Even if I stayed, it wouldn't have changed anything. Everything would have been the same. Everything is the same."
I laugh. He's fucking unbelievable. "You're fucking selfish Seb."
"How does leaving make me selfish?" The volume of his voice increases and I curl my hands into fists.
"I think you know how," I spit out. "Don't get Char's hopes up since you're back."
"Oh so is this what it is? You jealous or something?"
"Don't give me bullshit, Sebastien. You left her alone."
"And you think that just because you stayed, you're a motherfucking saint?" he glares. "You left her alone too Julien. Moving to your own apartment, barely talking to Maman or Papa, becoming the shell of the person you were," he accuses.
"What the hell do you even know?"
"I didn't need to be here two years to see that. I see it right now. You're an asshole to everyone. That doesn't make you any better than me. At least I didn't become a depressed loner who only keeps to myself."
My skin prickles in such immense anger. His words are a hit to my gut and I inhale sharply, "Shut the fuck up Sebastien."
"I got my masters', I made friends and relationships—do you know what those are by the way?" he taunts. "I spoke to people and it helped. It's about fucking time you enter the real world instead of retreating to your little penthouse and your two friends again."
For a second, I question whether this is actually happening. If I'm actually hearing him say these things to me. My eyes sting at his harsh words and before any tears could fall, I swipe a quick hand over them. Humiliation tightly coils and knots my stomach. I turn around, ready to walk away when I feel his hand grab my wrist.
"Don't fucking touch me," I shake him off.
"Julien."
He doesn't get to feel fucking bad now. He doesn't get to retreat when he sees a physical reaction from his words. It's what he asked for. You don't get to take it back.
"No, get out of my fucking face." My chest swells in anger and I will the tears not to fall. "I'm trying. You say that I wasn't here for Maman, Papa, and Char but at least I'm trying. You though...you shoulder no responsibilities. You're just going to take the first flight out of here when things get the least bit difficult. At least this depressed loner acknowledges his mistakes."
"Everyone has their own way of grieving Julien."
"Grieving?" I humourlessly laugh. "Is partying halfway across the world grieving? Is acting like he didn't exist grieving? Fact is, you didn't grieve at all Sebastien. You just forgot him. And now you're all back, acting as if nothing's happened."
"Because I've moved on!" he yells. "I'm not like you–just hanging onto threads and memories of a person who's gone!"
"A person who's gone?" I scoff, staring at him in disbelief.
He swipes a hand down his face and through his hair. Then with a detached voice, he says, "Yeah. There's really no way of sugarcoating it. He's gone and you need to get over it."
I stiffen at his apathetic demeanour. "I'm done with you. You're such a cold asshole."
"And you've always been this quiet kid who's always stuck in his head," he retorts. "It's time to open up and see the world, Julien. Live. You know Maman used to worry about you. She used to ask if you would change and grow out of this childhood phase. Guess it never happened, huh?"
I recoil back, blood whooshing in my ears. A huge lump forms in my throat and I can't speak.
He's about to say something more when Char opens the door, looking at both of us. Her chin trembles and a shameful part of me is glad Sebastien can see what he just did.
"Lottie," he breathes.
Her face crumples and she merely shakes her head and strides out of the room. I set my jaw and glare at Seb, feeling my chest twinge. In this moment, he looks younger than he appears. He's only two years older than I am.
"Julien, I–"
"Save it." I walk out of the room. I've never hated him as much as I do right now.
I pass by Char's room and go down the stairs, feeling an odd intensity and desperation to leave this house. Maman's in the kitchen and she turns around to see me.
"Maman, I'm going to leave now."
"What? What about these?" she lifts up the tray of éclairs.
"Can you pack them in a box? I just don't feel too good."
"Why don't you just stay overnight?"
I could have said anything. Instead I tell her, "I can't."
She stares at me and nods. Immediately, she changes the topic and begins rapidly speaking in French about how she made the éclairs differently this time.
I know what she's doing. She's trying to divert my thoughts into something she believes is ground territory. It's been a thing of ours since I was young. Whenever I'd be upset, she'd change the topic to the randomest of things. And it's because I know that I hug her.
"I'll come to visit soon." My voice comes out slightly muffled against her hair.
"You better," she warns and kisses my forehead. Her hand cups my cheek and she brushes the back of her knuckles along my cheekbone. "Mangez bien, riez souvent, aimez beaucoup," she hums.
[Translation: eat well, laugh often, love a lot]
I can't bring myself to say anything so I nod. I tell Papa that I'm leaving and after saying goodbye, I finally pull out of the driveway.
When I make it home, I sit in the darkness, staring out the balcony window. There's too much going on. Too much.
Does everyone hate the way I am?
Maman used to worry about you. You're an asshole to everyone. This quiet kid who's always stuck in his head.
It's about fucking time you enter the real world instead of retreating to your little penthouse and your two friends again.
Is that how I appear to everyone? I stare down at my lap, immediately wiping away the tears that fall.
Why should I change? Is there a right or wrong way of living? What the fuck even is that? Why are we all so afraid of living wrong? Someone else's perception of right and wrong? I haven't even found myself and I'm being asked to change?
I think of Amaltheia for a brief millisecond. She'd know what to say. She seems like she might. But what does it matter?
What if Jade left me words in that box? A letter or something. When could I have possibly been addressed a present? What if it was back to graduation? What if it was for me before I...
My heart painfully constricts and I can't breathe. "Fuck," I shakily whisper. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Why did he have to come back today? Why did anything that happened today have to happen?
I don't hear the door open but suddenly Amaltheia appears out of nowhere. "Get up, Julien," she demands.
"What?" I look around to see her purse on the sofa.
"Come on. Up. Up, Julie."
With her hands on her hips, she stares me down as if daring me to challenge her.
"Allons-y!" she claps.
[Translation: let's go]
________
A/N: hi my lovelies. so i'm back after a while hehe. i swear this month has been so hectic. i'd had a ton of uni midterms and exams are coming up soon too so i don't have a lot of time to write.
this is a shorter chapter compared to others but what did we think?
did you all like reading in julien's pov? would you like more chapters in his pov?
so i revealed quite a bit about him in this chap. julien's character is quite intricate and i'm still discovering what it's like in his head. but i'd like to say i've gotten quite a good understanding of it by now. he does appear like a jerk initially but there's a lot to him i promise!
any questions or smtg you're wondering 👀
what did we think about seb? julien's family?
we've been getting quite a few new MFM readers so welcome and thank you for joining us on the journey!
ALSO I GOT TEXT-TO-SPEECH ON THIS STORY FINALLY!!! idk why but it made me super excited and happy lol. last chap was like 48 min 🤭
qotc: what's your favourite drink?