IT IS AdrienneLafayette's birthday. Happy birthday, Lex! I wrote you a oneshot for your birthday! I know how much you love Anastasyette, so I wrote you some dramatic fluff. It's super cliché, but fucking fight me, I had so much fun writing this. I didn't proofread like I usually do before I post, but, again, fight me. I hope you like it, love!
Warning: None! :D
Much Love, Krissy/Mom
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I open the fridge, before quickly closing it again to look at the front of it. There's a bright yellow sticky note sitting there, and I realize that I was supposed to go pick up groceries for my mother.
"Laf, mon amie!" I call, hurrying to go fetch the keys to my car, "I have to go buy groceries for my mother. Will you watch Nicolette?" He walks out of the living room, bouncing Nicolette against his side.
"Oui, je peux faire ça pour toi (Yes, I can do that for you)," he says, grinning at me. I flash a smile at him and give his arm an appreciative squeeze before slinging my purse over my shoulder and going to the front door. I know Nicolette will be fine. She's with Laf, and I trust Laf.
The grocery run was much faster than I had thought it would be, but there also wasn't too much on the list I was left. I step out of the elevator and go over to the front door. I kick the door, knowing Laf will have to open it for me since my arms are full. However, when I kick the door, it slowly creeks open. It's odd. I don't remember leaving the front door open. I push the door open with my shoulder and peer into the apartment.
"Laf?" I call. There's no answer. When I'd arrived earlier today, Nicolette had come running out to greet me, giggling out my name. Nicolette is nowhere to be seen.
"Lafayette?" I call louder, stepping into the apartment. Panic is rising from the pits of my stomach. Where is he? Where's Nicolette? Maybe they're watching a movie and can't hear me? But then why would the door be open? I kick the door shut and hurry further inside, passing through the kitchen to put down the groceries. I pass every room, calling Laf and Nicolette's names desperately.
"Laf, si c'est une blague, ce n'est pas drôle (Laf, if this is a joke, it isn't funny)!" I cry. There's still no response. I search the entire apartment, and nothing.
"Maybe they just went out," I tell myself, pulling out my phone. I rapidly press the buttons to call Laf, whipping the phone up by my ear. The voicemail message plays immediately, and I feel as though I can't breathe. Where's Nicolette? Where's Laf? The world is spinning. How could I fail to keep Nicolette safe? How could I be so irresponsible? I should've had her and Laf come with me. I should've stayed home, even. I should've...I should've done something to keep them safe! My knees give out and I grasp onto the quilt on Nicolette's bed. Where is she, where is she, where is she?
I hear giggling downstairs. It sounds like...Like Nicolette's laugh. And Laf's. I force my legs to push me up, despite how unsteady I feel, and stumble across the room. As I descend the apartment stairs, I can hear Laf talking.
"Now, we can't tell Ana that I got you ice cream, oui? She'll be mad at me!" he says in a mock whisper voice. Nicolette giggles again and I hurry toward the sound.
"Colette," I call. The moment I see her, the world rights itself and I can breathe again. Nicolette turns to look at me, and grins, chocolate all around her mouth.
"Ana!" she giggles, rushing over to me. I wipe her mouth with the nearest tissue before I kneel down on the ground to hug her.
"I was so worried about you, Coli," I say, holding my little sister tightly. She giggles.
"I sowwy, Ana! Laf goa me ie cweam," she says, patting my back with her small free hand. I pull back to look at her face, and give her a small smile.
"It's okay, Coli. I'm not mad at you," I say, kissing her forehead. She gives me a toothy grin and I ruffle her hair.
"How about you eat that in the kitchen?" I suggest, pointing at her ice cream. She nods and runs off. I watch her until she's out of the room, before turning my gaze to Laf and slowly rising from the floor. I feel tense. Stiff. He didn't tell me that he was taking Nicolette out. I thought both she and he were in danger. I thought something had happened to them. And he couldn't even bother to answer my phone call? I feel adrenaline quicken my heart rate as I grow angrier.
"Laf-"
"Anastasia! Nicolette! I'm home!" I'm cut off by my mother's voice. The door closes, and Nicolette comes running back out of the dining room. I look away from Laf to follow Nicolette with my eyes.
"Mama!" she cries, bounding up to our mother. Our mother smiles and crouches down, opening her arms up. My sister fits there perfectly, and she laughs gleefully as my mother lifts her.
"How was your day, mon bébé (my baby)?" she asks. Nicolette grins at her and shows the cup of ice cream in her hands.
"Laf goa me ie cweam, mama!" she squeals. My mother chuckles and looks over, seeing both Lafayette and myself standing here.
"C'était très gentil de votre part. Merci, Lafayette (That was very kind of you. Thank you, Lafayette)," she says, grinning at him. She would be angry with him if she knew he'd done it without telling me. I should tell her. I should be screaming at him right now. But I look at Nicolette, and I can't bring myself to. Not here. I let my fists unclench as I walk forward, letting the tension melt from me for the time being.
"Bienvenue à la maison (Welcome home), mama," I greet, walking toward her with a smile. She opens one arm to hug me, and I return her hug. Once she's pulled away, she puts Nicolette back on the ground, who grins at us before bouncing off.
"Can you stay for dinner?" my mother asks. I give her an apologetic smile and shake my head.
"Non, mama. Not if we would like to get back with time to go to bed at a reasonable hour," I say. She sighs and nods, but gives me a prideful look. I can tell that she is proud of me, for how hard to work on my studies.
"Bien sûr, je suis désolé de vous avoir éloigné un jour de semaine. Voulez-vous revenir et visiter pendant le week-end (Of course, I am sorry for pulling you away on a weekday. Will you come back and visit during the weekend)?" she asks. I smile at her and nod.
"Bien sûr (Of course), mama," I say. She smiles softly at me before she pulls me into a hug. When I pull back, she holds onto my hands for a moment longer.
"Passez un bon repos de votre semaine, mon cher, doux guerrier (Have a good rest of your week, my dear, sweet warrior)," she says. I chuckle slightly and nod.
"Vous aussi (You too), mama," I mutter. She gives my hands a squeeze, and a moment later my hands slip from hers and I walk past her. I collect my purse from the kitchen, where I left it in my panic, and then wait for Laf by the front door.
"Ana!" Nicolette cries. Ah, I'd almost forgotten to say goodbye to her. My tiny sister runs in, absent of her ice cream, and wraps her arms around my legs. She beats Laf to me, the only reason that I don't immediately leave when he approaches. I focus on Nicolette, patting her head until she releases me so that I can crouch down to her level.
"I'll be back this weekend, okay?" I say. She nods.
"K!" she says. She hugs me once more, and I kiss her forehead again. When I straighten up, she hugs Laf's legs, and I watch him smile softly at her and he crouches down. I see him give me a guilty look when he looks up at me, and that reignites the anger I felt before. I jerk around and open the door, marching out and to the elevator. I slam my hand on the call button, and wait. The door closes and very cautious footsteps approach from behind me. I ignore the eyes that I can feel on the back of my head, and stare at the elevator doors. If glance had heat, it would most definitely have melted the doors by now. There's a small ding and the doors slide open. I get in without a word, and Laf follows me. I remain meaningfully silent during the entire ride down.
"Anastasia-" I hold up a hand in his direction.
"Non," I say firmly. He goes quiet. If he starts this now, we won't get back to the dorms any time soon. The only reason I rejected my mother's dinner offer was because I want to get back to the dorms. I ignore the glances in my direction. I'm gathering my anger carefully. When we get back to the dorms, I'm going to explode.
I slam the car door and storm toward the doors, still seething. I sat in complete and utter silence on the way home, allowing my anger toward Laf to build, and build, and build.
"Anastasia!" he calls after me. I don't reply, simply stomping into the dorm building. I take the stairs up to my floor, still hearing Laf calling after me and pointedly ignoring him. When I enter my dorm, thankfully Eliza isn't there. Probably out on a date.
"Anastasia-" I spin around and push him back. The door closes as his back hits it, and I hold him there at arms length.
"Qu'est-ce que tu pensais putain (What the fuck were you thinking)?!" I snap, finally releasing the pent up aggression. It's the first time I've acknowledged him since I shut him down in the elevator. His eyebrows furrow together and he gives me a questioning look.
"Qu'est-ce que tu racontes (What are you talking about)?" he asks. I pull my hands away and cross them tightly over my chest.
"Tu sais très bien de quoi je parle (You know damn well what I'm talking about)," I growl. He crosses his arms as well.
"Est-ce à propos de la glace (Is this about the ice cream)?" he asks, giving me this look that pisses me off. I throw my arms down in frustration.
"Il s'agit de sortir ma petite soeur à mon insu et sans ma permission et de ne même pas répondre à ton putain de téléphone (It's about taking my baby sister out without my knowledge or permission and then not even answering your fucking phone when I called)!" I scream. He drops his arms and his eyes narrow. Now he's getting pissed off too. Wonderful.
"J'essayais de faire quelque chose de bien pour elle (I was trying to do something nice for her)!" he yells back. I groan.
"Alors tu aurais dû me dire putain! Je t'aurais laissé prendre sa glace (Then you should've fucking told me! I would've let you get her ice cream)!" I shout back, waving my hands in small, but sharp gestures. He grunts, teeth clearly gritting in his mouth.
"J'essayais de me lier avec elle (I was trying to bond with her)!" he groans loudly, clearly trying to defend himself. I run my hands over my face. He doesn't get it. He doesn't understand why I'm upset. He doesn't understand why I'm so angry.
"Alors dis moi! J'étais si inquiet et j'avais peur que quelque chose t'arrive (Then tell me! I was so worried and afraid something had happened to you)!" I shriek. He rolls his eyes at me and shakes his head.
"Je suis un homme adulte. Pourquoi t'inquiéterais-tu pour moi? Avez-vous si peu confiance en moi (I'm a grown man. Why the fuck would you be worried about me? Do you have such little faith in me)?" he shouts. I want to rip my hair out. Or maybe his hair. Perhaps I'll do both. I want to punch something.
"Je ne sais pas, Laf! Peut-être parce que tu es mon ami et que je tiens à toi? Peut-être parce que je ne veux plus te perdre dans cette vie? Peut-être parce que j'aime (I don't know, Laf! Maybe because you're my friend and I care about you? Maybe because I don't want to lose you again in this life? Maybe because I love)-" I cut myself off and freeze, watching him do the same. The air between us is thick and tense, suffocating me with every breath I breathe in. I didn't finish my sentence, but the context is clear. Perhaps I could play it off as I meant it platonically? No, no it's too late for that. He knows now. He knows I'm in love with him. Goddammit! Stupid mouth! Stupid feelings! Stupid, beautiful Laf!
"Anastasia..." His voice is so soft and tender that it revives my stopped heart, and I feel it quicken in my chest. I see the way he's looking at me, but I can't take it. I can't do this. I speed walk past him and slam my room door shut behind me.
"Anastasia!" That seems to be the only thing he can say. I keep hearing his voice get caught before he can say anything else. I'm not afraid of rejection. I wouldn't be Anastasia Reama if that were the case. No, it's more complex than that. I'm afraid of losing him. I nearly lost him to a bullet in our past, and then he died before me. Losing him a third time would break me. I can't stand being broken. It was a too common feeling back then. I hate feeling like this. Helpless.
"Anastasia, ouvre la porte s'il te plaît. Je veux que tu entends ça pendant que tu peux me voir (please open the door. I want you to hear this while you can see me)," he says. I can hear him just on the other side of the door. I want to. I want to give myself hope. I'm not a wishful thinker, but I could feel so much hope for these next few moments. But, I'm nothing if not stubborn.
"Non," I say, somehow still sounding firm. He sighs, and there's a light thump against the door. I realize he's pressed his forehead against it. I lean against the door and listen, closing my eyes.
"Je t'aime aussi, mon bijou (I love you too, my jewel)." I stand straight up at that, opening my eyes to stare at the door. Do my ears deceive me, or did he just...Say he loves me too? I open the door, staring at him with wide eyes.
"What did you say?" I ask, so softly that I can barely hear myself. He swallows.
"I said...I love you too, my jewel...My Anastasia. I never stopped loving you," he says, voice equally as soft. He has always been the more emotional one of the two of us. His emotions are written across his face. Vulnerable. I don't remember how to be vulnerable anymore, so I do what I always do in situations such as this: I act rashly. I touch his face softly, waiting for our eyes to meet, and then I spring, kissing him deeply and lovingly. I put every emotion that I can't show on my face or put to words into that kiss. After a moment, he relaxes, cupping one of my cheeks in his hand while his other rests against my waist. His lips are warm and have a taste that is oh so utterly Laf. He seems to like what he finds too, as I feel his lips curve into a smile. Oh, how I've missed this. It's been so long since I kissed him. Two hundred years, perhaps? When we finally part to breathe, he rests his forehead against mine. I feel so much bliss that it's as if I can't open my eyes for a moment.
"I have missed your kiss, mon bijou," he says softly. I giggle and open my eyes.
"Is it still as sweet as you recall?" I ask. He grins at me.
"Sweeter." And he kisses me this time. This happens several more times before either of us get in another word, but it doesn't really matter, does it? We've found each other again. That is all that matters.
"May I repay you for the trouble I've caused by taking you to dinner, and perhaps some ice cream?" he asks. I peck his lips, and I'm sure that my eyes say everything I don't.
"It's a date, my love."
"Oui. A date."
AHHHH I HOPE YOU LIKE IT LEX! LOVE YOUUUUU. HAPPY BIRTHDAYYYYY.