“Hello.”
She loomed over him, still wearing that hoodie—that same smile, those same freckles, the same blueberry eyes, watching him awaken and curl his lips into a faint grin glowing in the sunlight streaming from the open blinds. A gentle force pushed her further, a soft one, him, before she landed on his chest. He smelled like the blankets, and the pillows, and his actions elicited giggles from her.
“G’morning,” he groaned into her hair, sitting up and sniffing the presence of lavender, “Darling.”
Darling.
She loved that.
She buried her fingers in his dark locks, just black, simple, not a hint of brown, even exposed to the sun. Nearly a raven shade. They flopped down sluggishly on to the cushion and landed in a messy heap of limbs, Aiden clutching her as if she’d leave. Although she wouldn’t. She would never. This was real intimacy.
She wants him completely hers.
“You too,” he felt that curve of her lips against his skin. He hummed something, before mumbling, “I don’t want to get up.” “We have to. I’m not a big fan of wake up calls.”
Elsa left his lap, dragging her heels in front of the vanity. She picked up the brush, and swept her platinum blonde tresses into a fixed braid, gluing the feeling of two arms snaking around her torso into her memory, and soon the kit was plucked out of her reach with a lazy hand. “You don’t need that, darl,” his breath was against her neck.
Squeezing his free hand, which was leaning on the vanity, she turned around to meet his near gaze, whispering a thank you to his ear for calling her beautiful, even indirectly—as glimpses of her high school days rushed in her head to recall the nickname “freak” because of her pale complexion. He closed the gap between them and pecked her lips, murmured another compliment which left her heart beating wildly, and that caught her off guard, but she liked how he grew a little confidence.
Which shrunk in a matter of seconds.
“S-sorry, did that make you uncomfortable?”
Elsa vigorously shook her head, “No, no please. I...” she blushed, and the blood rushing to her cheeks proved Aiden’s prior claim right that she never did needed to apply pigment to her face, “I think you should do it more,” in turn his face was blooming a rosy shade as she said this with full honesty, “Okay?”
His eyes looked away, his lips formed in a thin line, but he was still awfully flustered, pressed against her, the pamper kit still in his grip. Aiden nodded, bit his lip and moved away. The loss of contact widened the sudden distance Elsa felt, since she wanted nothing but to pull him back to her.
“Do you...”
She was listening.
“Do you know why I can’t allow myself to hold you and kiss you just as much?” he somberly asked, his smile low and suppressing his roaring emotions down beneath, as his fists clenched, and he could’ve sworn he would draw blood by how deep his nails were digging into his palm.
Slowly, Elsa nodded, intrigued with his words as she folded her arms. Aiden couldn’t afford to let her look closer, to find out how misty his vision was growing because of something he wanted to pull back. So he could stop being an enigma.
“You deserve much better,” he forced on a smile, “More than this. More than me. More than cheap flowers, more than that Ramen house I keep pulling you into. You...” he gritted his teeth, “I wish I could give you more. Someone more,” his voice grew husky, and harsh, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I c-can’t, I don’t–”
Before he could finish his ranting of apologies, the strong scent of soap, Chanel and lavenders drowned his nose. Elsa engulfed him in her arms, sweet nothings leaving her mouth to his ear, her other hand tugging on the collar of his shirt. She pulled away for a moment, stared deeply into his livid soul and slammed her lips into his, liking—no, loving—the way his hands instinctively clambered upwards to the small of her back.
She cupped his face, her motions reminding her of the day they simultaneously admitted their feelings to one another. He was still the same. Luminous green irises, clean, and so, so beautiful. Just staring into the dark abyss of his pupils, she could read every emotion running fervently underneath.
“If you won’t listen to yourself,” she growled, “Listen better to me. You’re an idiot for downgrading yourself. Those so called cheap daisies can make a mark on my heart. The dinner dates we spent in that Ramen House were mostly filled with me wiping tears of laughter away because of your corny jokes. And you,” the emphasis scorched his heart wonderfully, “You’re mine, you’re perfect. You’re different, and that’s what I love about you. I love you, Aiden Antoine Laurant. You and the dimples on each corner of your mouth. You make me damn happy, you can go think otherwise, but get my words into your head.”
Elsa...
At first, he thought she was a blur of paparazzi, interviews, beauty and distress combined. He had predicted she wouldn’t even notice him when she first met him; appointments, meetings, biddings, those were just his only purpose for sticking around, clipboard in hand, fetching her coffee.
He didn’t expect this. He wasn’t expecting to be right here, facing the persuasive glare she shot him, her brows adorably furrowed, her lips stuck in a frown, perhaps believing that she wasn’t persistent enough to convince him.
So he leaned over, hugged her close, and pressed a kiss to her mouth and watched as her frown dissolved into a contented smile.
Consider him convinced.
“I love you too. You know that, right?”
She laughed and pinched his cheek, which he didn’t mind one bit. She didn’t need any clarification about their rants. He brought his lips next to her ear and began to sing softly.
“Your hand fits in mine, like it’s made, just for me. But bear this in mind, it was meant to be. And I’m joining up the dots with the freckles on your cheeks,” He tapped her nose briefly, “And it all makes sense to me.”
She looked at him, blankly, albeit with a wide smile since she enjoyed his voice thoroughly.
“I won’t let these little things slip, out of my mouth. But if I do, it’s you, oh it’s you they add up to. I’m in love with you,” He hummed, “And all these little things.”
“I didn’t know my boyfriend was a singer,” She smirked.
“I’m not much of a–" She gazed at him dangerously, caution visible in her eyes before another word could leave his tongue. Aiden sighed, smiled and nodded, “Ah, yes. Yes I am. Happy?” “Pretty much. You just don’t give yourself enough credit.” “Well I’m learning. Pardon a beginner,” He teased.
“Mama? Aiden?”
The couple concurrently rose to their feet and scrambled to get the door. Aiden quickly stumbled upon the knob and twisted it, revealing a timid little Claire standing patiently in her white overall and blue shirt with matching sunglasses (courtesy of Anna, she supposed).
In awe, Elsa lowered herself to her daughter’s level and kissed her cheek as a greeting, “Good morning Claire-bear! You’re up early.”
“Morning!” Claire grinned, stepping inside politely and hugging the secretary’s leg with another good morning echoing around the room, soon followed by a squeal with Aiden hoisting her up way much higher. The four year old was a ball of sunshine, her aura was so strong it affected every corner of the suite.
“Did you sleep well?” Elsa curiously asked. She knew the little girl rarely sleeps without her around, but something tells her Claire was just fine. Anna was with her, after all.
“Yeah, and I had pancakes for breakfast,” Claire added, “Did you also sleep nice?”
The young mother’s heart melted upon her child’s concern. “Yes I did, sweetie. Can you wait with Aiden so mama can get ready?”
Claire nodded her head and watched as her mother dashed into the bathroom. She flopped down on the couch and smiled, her eyes crinkling, “We’re going somewhere!”
Aiden chuckled at the child’s excitement and ruffled her hair, “Where are we off to princess?”
“Erm, Auntie Anna was fast. I think a mus-eum,”
she struggled a bit, “And a church.”
“Ah. Musée du Louvre and the Notre Dame Cathedral,” Aiden’s eyes glimmered eagerly.
“The what?” Claire giggled. Aiden laughed, "It’s the museum and the church we’re going to. You like drawings, yes?” “Yeah,” “Thousands of paintings live there. I bet you’d make a fine piece yourself. Tell you what,” he grinned, “I’ll bring sketch pads for us so we can draw something we like. Sounds like a plan?”
“Okay!”
“What are you both planning, huh?” Elsa chimes in, surveying her appearance in front of the mirror before shyly turning to Aiden, who is seemingly frozen in place as his eyes drift north and south upon seeing her attire.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured as he stole a kiss.
Claire beamed, “We’re going to draw together later!”
“That sounds fun,” Elsa commented, “Aiden, shower’s all yours,” she suppressed the noises threatening to leave her mouth when he found a ticklish spot, “No time to waste.”
“M’kay.”
“Scrub nice,” Elsa teased.
“Will do.”
To be continued
on the next chapter...