♬ ❝ Built us a world and I gave you the key. Still can't believe that this isn't a dream. Falling in love with a damn fantasy, that's so me, so me ❞ ♬
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4 days since summer break started
Thursday - Monaco
I had managed to drag myself to the bedroom, but sleep was a lost cause. All I was able to do was stare at the ceiling. I didn't even notice how the evening changed into night. Only when the early sun started to light my room again did my brain actively recognize a night had passed.
I mustered the strength to swing my legs over the bed, and when I stood up, my legs wobbled beneath me as if I were drinking again. As if I was unable to support the weight of my broken heart.
The past few days, at Charles' apartment, I never allowed myself to grieve, to feel the pain. I didn't allow myself to cry. I was afraid Charles might hear me but mostly afraid that he would be overly worried again.
I stumbled through the apartment to my bathroom. I barely recognized the face that was staring back at me in the mirror. Eyes swollen and red, dark circles under them, and the skin white.
It is a stranger, a portrait of devastation.
I ran the tap open, cupping my hands under the cold water to clean my face. It was not going to fix anything, but I had to look at least a bit decent when the locksmith arrived.
Which, obviously, was useless. But the locksmith didn't mention it. He looked at me with a slight pity on his face but got to work immediately. He changed the locks, handed me the new keys, and disappeared again.
It was only eleven in the morning, and I already wanted to disappear back into my bed. I craved sleep's thoughtlessness, but even in my dreams, I was haunted by the ghost of what could have been.
And I was more angry at the world for its cruelty than I was at Max. All my emotions were trying to reach the surface, yet drowning within the depths of my own inability to give them a name.
Hours crept by, the sun lowering itself more and more under the horizon of the sea, illuminating a golden cast over my living room. And it angered me that the world could still be so beautiful.
It wasn't until I heard keys rattling I looked up to the hallway, and softly got up from my couch. With slow steps, I walked towards my front door, knowing all too well that Charles wouldn't be able to get into my apartment.
The lock is blocked. My brother tried again, but no matter how hard or how often he tried, the keys didn't turn; the door kept being locked.
"Jasmine?" His voice was calm, calmer than I had expected for locking him out. "Are you here?"
I wanted to reply, but the words got stuck in my throat. I didn't want to see him; I didn't want to talk about how I felt betrayed by him, too. I leaned against the wall; one hand covering my mouth as I felt a new wave of sadness almost crashing over me.
When do I draw the line of self-pity?
Charles continued to fumble with the keys, trying in vain to unlock the door, "Jasmine, I know you're in there," He called out again, his voice now tinged with even more concern. "Please, open the door."
My heart twisted at the desperation in his tone, but I couldn't bring myself to move, "Go away, Charles," I managed to choke out, my voice barely a whisper.
"Please... just let me in," He begged me. "I just want to make sure that you're okay."
A choked sob escaped my lips, and I pressed my forehead against the cool surface of the door, trying to steady my ragged breaths. The tears threatened to spill over once more, but I clenched my fists, determined to hold them back.
"I'm not okay, Charles," I whispered; I didn't even wonder if he could hear me or not through the barrier between us. "I don't think I will be okay any time soon."
"Talk to me, please..."
I shook my head, realizing too late that he couldn't see that movement. But the silence crept on longer. And I guess Charles took the hint.
"Whenever you're ready," He continued; I heard his rings ticking on the wooden door. "I am here for you."
"Thank you, Charles. But I... I can't face you right now."
The silence between us grew heavy, and it took Charles a few minutes before he walked away. It took me double the amount to pull away from the door and walk back to my living room. The golden glow had disappeared, making room for the darkness of the evening that was about to settle in.
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Five days since summer break started
Friday - Monaco
The sound of my doorbell woke me up; I wanted to ignore it when it rang again. And a few seconds later, again.
I groaned, throwing the blankets off myself, and walked to the hallway to answer the door downstairs, "Who is there?"
"Hi Jasmine, it's Pierre," The Frenchman said over the intercom. "I'd understand if you send me away, but I... I wanted to see how you are."
I swallowed the little lump in my throat, "Does Charles know you're here?"
"He does not," He answered. "And I won't tell him if you don't want me to."
I pressed the little button to open the door for him and then put my own door ajar for Pierre to enter easily before I walked back to my bedroom to put on some sweatpants and an oversized sweater.
"Jasmine?" Pierre called out; he closed the apartment's door and walked to the living room. I followed him in silence.
"Hi," I whispered, a poor attempt not to startle my visitor, which miserably failed.
"Jeez!" Pierre yelped and turned around. "You scared me."
"Sorry."
Normally, the two of us would've laughed about it. Laughed it away, and Pierre would've hugged me tightly. But now, he didn't want to touch the Monegasque without her specifically telling him to hold her. And neither of us laughed anyway.
"Do you want some tea?" I asked, keeping a distance that felt safe for me.
Pierre nodded, offering me a kind smile, "Rooibos?"
I nodded back, but I couldn't bring myself to smile back at him. I shuffled past him towards the kitchen, and Pierre followed me closely yet at a safe distance. His eyes followed my movements as I turned on the kettle, grabbed two mugs, and prepared the tea.
Handing Pierre his mug, I forced a small smile on my lips, "There you go," I whispered.
He nodded, acknowledging the silence we'd been in for the past couple of minutes. We retreated back to the living room. I sunk into my couch, pulled my knees to my chest, and hugged them. Pierre's eyes didn't leave mine, not even when he hesitantly took a sip from his tea.
"Thank you for coming," I said softly, breaking the silence. "I appreciate it."
"I can't imagine what you're going through right now," He reached his hand out but stopped inches before touching my shoulder. I nodded, and he laid his hand on my shoulder.
"I just... I regret everything," My hand flew to cover my mouth as a sob threatened to spill over. When am I ever going to stop crying about it?
"And I want to..." I continued, biting my lip as a form of punishment for even considering it. Pierre's hand cupped my cheek, and his thumb gently pulled my lips from the grip of my teeth.
"You want what?" He asked.
"Drink it away..." I shook my head. "But I know I can't. I can't let myself fall back into the habit of drinking for problems."
His gaze softened, "It won't help you, indeed."
I nodded, "Sorry to burden you with this."
"You are not burdening me with anything, Jasmine. I am here as your friend."
I was about to start crying again, but I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded at the Frenchman, "Thank you, Pierre."
"Do you want to tell me why Charles can't know I am here?"
"I sent him away yesterday. I... uhm... I changed the locks."
"That's something," Pierre nodded. "But you're not going to get through something so tough on your own."
"I know," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "But I just couldn't face him yet."
"Can I give you a hug?"
I nodded, and Pierre pulled me in a gentle hug. Against my expectations, I didn't cry. There were no more tears. I was numb.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"For what?"
"For being here, for being my friend."
Pierre nodded, "Of course. You're still like a sister to me; that won't ever change, okay?"
In response, I nodded back. I lay my head on his shoulder, "To change the subject from my miserable love life to yours, how are things going with... what was her name? Esmay?"
"Good, actually," he replied. "She's coming over tomorrow to stay the weekend."
"No more discussions about your beliefs?"
The Frenchman shook his head, "No. She's actually coming to church with me this Sunday."
"Oh! That's so good. That's some honest progress."
Pierre hummed, his expression changed to one where he was visibly thinking about something. I tilted my head and raised an eyebrow to show him I was listening.
"Everything okay?"
His eyes went to my neck, which I covered in reflex. I felt the cold material of his necklace on my fingers and smiled, "Do you want me to join you?"
He opened his mouth but stopped, thinking about his next few words as he licked his lips. I nudged him to continue. "I don't want to push those things on you; I don't know if you have things planned or not," he said.
"Normally, I have family brunch. But I don't think I'll go anyway. So, spill it."
"What about we go to church in the morning? I will pick you up here and drop you off at your mom's place after. You can not run away from your family, Jasmine. Not again."
I nodded slowly, "Okay," and after a few seconds, I added: "You're right."
"Is there anything else that I can do for you?"
I shook my head, slowly letting go of Pierre, "No, I don't think so."
I was already thankful that Pierre cared enough to check up on me. And that he cared enough not to let me sit here in my own misery.
"And, don't shut Charles out either, okay? I know that what he did was not the right approach. He should've told you like Arthur did, but he loves you."
A sigh escaped my lips, "I am hurt by his actions, yes. But I lied to him, too. I said there wasn't anyone I was dating, yet Max was here... If I had told him honestly that there was someone, maybe he would've told me in time."
Pierre gave me an apologetic smile, "Max will regret this, okay? Charles and I will make sure of it."
I chuckled coldly, "You really think this is a one-man's job? He made that bet with Carlos and Daniel. And whom have they told about it?"
"They will regret it, too."
I sigh again, deeper this time, "I just... I can't believe Carlos would join into something like this."
Pierre opened his mouth and closed it again. A second time he did it. He knew something I did not. I sat up straight, crossed my arms in front of my chest and cocked an eyebrow. My brother's best friend looked away to avoid my gaze, only confirming he knew something more about Carlos.
"Pierre."
His lips kept being sealed.
"Gasly."
"I... I can't," He stuttered out.
"Pierre Jean-Jacques Gasly."
He looked at me, almost begging me to let it go. But after last weekend, I don't think I can feel that much worse than I already do. I tilted my head and raised my eyebrow.
"Fine," Pierre sighed. "But you will keep this between us."