by June 16th
Third Year
2054
......somewhere in BB
"I - I don't know what I'm doing." His words were soft, if anything heartbreakingly quiet, his blue eyes flickering downwards as he pulled away from the older girl's kiss, his hands now clasped together on his lap. The worry of disappointing her, it leaked into every little movement he made, every twitch, every fiddle, every breath. He'd barely gotten the chance to talk to Monique Lambert, let alone kiss her, and here he was messing it all up.
"Hey," the sound of her voice lifted his gaze, the look in her eyes brightening his, "don't worry about it." Pulling Julian's hands out of his lap, Monique smiled, the low light somehow making the redhead prettier, and whatever doubts were in the Prideux's mind vanished, replaced with a warm and fuzzy feeling that encompassed the third year's body. Shuffling closer to him, a hand smoothing out the wrinkles of the sheets underneath as her other cupped his face, soon joined by the other. "Just follow my lead."
And with that, she pressed her lips against his. His lips tingled, shivers began running up his spine as she pressed her body against his. Her hands, they were no longer on his face, he suddenly noticed, they were beginning to worm their way down south, but the boy barely noticed. He was still too busy obsessing over this actually happening. She was actually kissing him. She actually knew his name, she could put it to his face. It was almost like a dream, a fairy tale, a story gone right.
Because the Vallée, God, she was perfect. For one thing, she was just absolutely stunning with her red hair and brown eyes, and the way she walked as if nothing could ever phase her and -
His thoughts cut off and for a moment Julian forgot how to breath, even as she pulled away. Her eyes, they were dark with something that the boy couldn't even begin to describe or understand, and when he'd tilted his head, confusion written all over the future prefect's face, it was then that she pounced, slamming him back against the bed, her mouth hungrily attacking his.
Letting out a startled squeak, his hands found their way to her shoulders, ready to push her away. But then her lips began pressing into the bare skin of his jaw, trailing down his neck, and whatever words of protest he had died in his throat, replaced by a low moan.
In the days and weeks and years to come, Julian would've come to hate his indecision. If he'd just pushed her off of him and left, then maybe she wouldn't have hurt him so badly.
Part of him didn't notice as clothing became more and more scarce and there was more and more bare skin. Part of him didn't care. There was that nagging voice in the back of his head that couldn't help but wonder if he knew what he was getting into, if he even wanted this in the first place.
And a part of him didn't. The part that understood what was going on was screaming at him to run away, but the rest of him was so consumed in unfounded love for the older girl that he didn't listen. She'd never do anything to hurt me, he reasoned. Because obviously she loves me too.
He'd been so wrong.
The day after, he'd tracked her down in the Dining Hall, a single red rose between his fingers. Nervous? He wasn't nervous. Because she loved him. She'd even said so.
Pulling to a stop in front of her, giving her friends all friendly smiles and matching little waves, he returned his blue eyes to Monique, his heart stopping as it did every time his gaze fell on her. "Hi, I just wanted to -"
"Outside," her gaze was cold, nothing like the warmth of yesterday, as she tilted her towards the doors. "Now."
He trotted after her, confusion lighting up his face. What was it that couldn't be said in front of her friends?
"You're an idiot, Rousseau." Her clipped words brought him back to earth, startled out his thoughts by her words. "What the hell is the flower for?"
"I love -"
"-I don't care." Her words were a snarl, her eyes angry and for a moment he didn't recognize her. This wasn't Monique. She wasn't like this. She couldn't do this.
She said it again.
And with her three words, his life fell apart. Julian's mouth fell open, opening and closing for a few moments before words finally rushed out. "But - but - we - I - I thought we'd be together forever."
"Well, you were wrong, weren't you?" She leaned down, her eyes darkening with emotion. And as she leaned, he thought for a fleeting second that maybe she'd changed her mind, that this was all just a misunderstanding. He closed his eyes and was rewarded with a slap to the cheek.
If he'd thought she'd been angry before, it was nothing compared to the barrage of insults that came flying his way, each one chipping away another piece of his heart. But the last words she spoke before tearing the rose from him, pulling off all the petals and throwing it at him hit like she'd done the same to his heart.
"One day, Julian, all those friends you have, your Angels or whatever, they're going to get sick of you. And you know what? They'll all leave you, because you're nothing. If you're not worth my time, then you're most definitely not worth theirs. You'll be all alone, and no one's even going to feel sorry for you, because it'll be all your fault."
He stayed there, heart beating fast and head hurting, for what felt like hours. Her face danced behind his eyelids and his chest physically hurt, as if he'd been cursed. And as her words began to ring in his ears, the tears began to fall.
By the time Julian found himself back in his dorm, collapsing onto his bed, his crying had morphed to sobs. He laid there for hours, crying, stopping and then realizing what had happened all over again and bursting into tears again.
It was a vicious, ugly cycle, but when the tears finally stopped days later, the child he'd been just weeks ago was as good as dead.
Third Year
2054
......somewhere in BB
"I - I don't know what I'm doing." His words were soft, if anything heartbreakingly quiet, his blue eyes flickering downwards as he pulled away from the older girl's kiss, his hands now clasped together on his lap. The worry of disappointing her, it leaked into every little movement he made, every twitch, every fiddle, every breath. He'd barely gotten the chance to talk to Monique Lambert, let alone kiss her, and here he was messing it all up.
"Hey," the sound of her voice lifted his gaze, the look in her eyes brightening his, "don't worry about it." Pulling Julian's hands out of his lap, Monique smiled, the low light somehow making the redhead prettier, and whatever doubts were in the Prideux's mind vanished, replaced with a warm and fuzzy feeling that encompassed the third year's body. Shuffling closer to him, a hand smoothing out the wrinkles of the sheets underneath as her other cupped his face, soon joined by the other. "Just follow my lead."
And with that, she pressed her lips against his. His lips tingled, shivers began running up his spine as she pressed her body against his. Her hands, they were no longer on his face, he suddenly noticed, they were beginning to worm their way down south, but the boy barely noticed. He was still too busy obsessing over this actually happening. She was actually kissing him. She actually knew his name, she could put it to his face. It was almost like a dream, a fairy tale, a story gone right.
Because the Vallée, God, she was perfect. For one thing, she was just absolutely stunning with her red hair and brown eyes, and the way she walked as if nothing could ever phase her and -
His thoughts cut off and for a moment Julian forgot how to breath, even as she pulled away. Her eyes, they were dark with something that the boy couldn't even begin to describe or understand, and when he'd tilted his head, confusion written all over the future prefect's face, it was then that she pounced, slamming him back against the bed, her mouth hungrily attacking his.
Letting out a startled squeak, his hands found their way to her shoulders, ready to push her away. But then her lips began pressing into the bare skin of his jaw, trailing down his neck, and whatever words of protest he had died in his throat, replaced by a low moan.
In the days and weeks and years to come, Julian would've come to hate his indecision. If he'd just pushed her off of him and left, then maybe she wouldn't have hurt him so badly.
Part of him didn't notice as clothing became more and more scarce and there was more and more bare skin. Part of him didn't care. There was that nagging voice in the back of his head that couldn't help but wonder if he knew what he was getting into, if he even wanted this in the first place.
And a part of him didn't. The part that understood what was going on was screaming at him to run away, but the rest of him was so consumed in unfounded love for the older girl that he didn't listen. She'd never do anything to hurt me, he reasoned. Because obviously she loves me too.
He'd been so wrong.
The day after, he'd tracked her down in the Dining Hall, a single red rose between his fingers. Nervous? He wasn't nervous. Because she loved him. She'd even said so.
Pulling to a stop in front of her, giving her friends all friendly smiles and matching little waves, he returned his blue eyes to Monique, his heart stopping as it did every time his gaze fell on her. "Hi, I just wanted to -"
"Outside," her gaze was cold, nothing like the warmth of yesterday, as she tilted her towards the doors. "Now."
He trotted after her, confusion lighting up his face. What was it that couldn't be said in front of her friends?
"You're an idiot, Rousseau." Her clipped words brought him back to earth, startled out his thoughts by her words. "What the hell is the flower for?"
"I love -"
"-I don't care." Her words were a snarl, her eyes angry and for a moment he didn't recognize her. This wasn't Monique. She wasn't like this. She couldn't do this.
She said it again.
And with her three words, his life fell apart. Julian's mouth fell open, opening and closing for a few moments before words finally rushed out. "But - but - we - I - I thought we'd be together forever."
"Well, you were wrong, weren't you?" She leaned down, her eyes darkening with emotion. And as she leaned, he thought for a fleeting second that maybe she'd changed her mind, that this was all just a misunderstanding. He closed his eyes and was rewarded with a slap to the cheek.
If he'd thought she'd been angry before, it was nothing compared to the barrage of insults that came flying his way, each one chipping away another piece of his heart. But the last words she spoke before tearing the rose from him, pulling off all the petals and throwing it at him hit like she'd done the same to his heart.
"One day, Julian, all those friends you have, your Angels or whatever, they're going to get sick of you. And you know what? They'll all leave you, because you're nothing. If you're not worth my time, then you're most definitely not worth theirs. You'll be all alone, and no one's even going to feel sorry for you, because it'll be all your fault."
He stayed there, heart beating fast and head hurting, for what felt like hours. Her face danced behind his eyelids and his chest physically hurt, as if he'd been cursed. And as her words began to ring in his ears, the tears began to fall.
By the time Julian found himself back in his dorm, collapsing onto his bed, his crying had morphed to sobs. He laid there for hours, crying, stopping and then realizing what had happened all over again and bursting into tears again.
It was a vicious, ugly cycle, but when the tears finally stopped days later, the child he'd been just weeks ago was as good as dead.
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