Chapter XXII: Roses
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Fidèle plucked a crumbling rose out of the chipped, dusty glass on the dining room table, her brow furrowed slightly.
“You’re like a small child! Everything’s a mess! I should’ve come earlier I-”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ1Pk8rzTBZG
“Be careful with that!”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGLHJwqWOmB
Poète yelped, taking the rose from her.
“Oh dear! Didn’t your parents teach you not to touch other people’s things?!”
Fidèle snorted.
“No.”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvMVZuwF2jw
“That explains… so much.”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqBlECWosQb
Poète mumbled.
“What was that?!”
She snapped.150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDUJIPe1lno
“Nothing!”
He grinned, placing the rose back in the glass.
He sighed.
“Oh dear… the lights are out… the theater is empty, yet .”
“Why do you say that?”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNslYYMVuyJ
She hissed, her voice grinding into a sharp point.
“You’re awfully high strung for someone who is supposed to be on vacation.”
Poète remarked, his right eye twitching slightly.
Fidèle sighed.
“Frèdèric wouldn’t like dead flowers sitting around like this.”
She murmured, her hand balling into a fist as her fingers curled into the fabric of her skirt.
“Oh dear… then it’s a good thing he isn’t here right now, isn’t it?”
Fidéle shot him a half glare out of the corner of her eye before softening slightly and rolling her eyes.
“I suppose you’re right. Don’t get used to the sensation.”
Poète traced the brim of the cup with his thumb, ignoring her reply.
“Besides, I believe flowers are much more beautiful in death. Don’t you agree?”
He hummed, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.
He began gesturing vaguely at the drawn blinds over the window.
“Living flowers are much too…”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfHPc9VwVKv
“Arrogant?”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnuQ4NUSy70
Fidèle chimed in, drumming a finger on her arm as she cracked a small smile.
“Precisely.”
He chuckled, pushing off the table as he stood up.
Fidèle soundlessly flashed out of his line of vision with a quick swish of her feet.
She pressed the inside of her lower lip between her teeth as he blinked profusely.
“You quite alright, Poe? Hellooooo?”
Poète leaned down to her level before sliding ink-stained hands around her face.
His icy fingers slid into her hair, sending a shiver down Fidèle’s spine.
“Réalité?”
“La Malédiction?”
“You gotta make me a promise. Alright?”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqt1HyuyaR6
Poète murmured, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb.
She rolled her eyes.
“Spit it out already, you wet blanket.”
“Alright, alright, alright! My god you are so impatient.”
He muttered as if scolding a child.
He sighed and tilted his head.
“Oh dear… if you weren’t… what most consider ‘real’... you- do you promise to tell me?”
She narrowed her eyes at him after a moment of silence.
“Well, how would I know if I wasn’t ‘real’?”
Poète shrugged as his speech began to quicken slightly.
“I have no idea! But if somehow you did know through some unknown circumstances, would you tell me?”
“I- Mon Dieu, Poe… YES.”
“Do you promise?!”
“Yes, I promise!”
Fidèle huffed, her words hanging in the air between them.
Poète’s mouth curled upward in a satisfied smirk.
“Thank you, mon cher. Now, was that so hard?”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeHqfCWyLwt
“Yes, it was.”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFFbYvJ8Tpr
Fidèle grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.
Poète chuckled, removing his hands from her face as he straightened up.
“Oh dear, I apologize for the extensive strain I placed upon your ever present sarcasm, Mademoiselle.”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXhjQAuKEnx
“If it’s so aggravating to have me around you could just throw me out!”
Fidèle growled, gesturing at her bags she had sloppily shoved under the kitchen table.
“When did I say that?!”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTv9mnsavT4
Poète cried.
“Just now!”
She snarled, stomping her foot on the floor.
“I do admit that I am scatterbrained but I know I would remember what I said just a moment ago!”
He sputtered, gesturing vaguely.
“You didn’t have to say it, Poe! You said it with your existence!"
“What does that mean?!”
“Mon Dieu… body language, Poe!”
He leaned down back to her level again.
“Fidèle, if I did not want you here, we would not be having this conversation.”
He whispered into her ear with a smirk, patting her left shoulder.
Fidèle’s arms hovered awkwardly by her sides, her eyes flicking into the upper right corner of the room and then down at her feet.
Poète glanced up at her out of the corner of his eye before standing up, clearing his throat.
“Oh dear… uhm… what was I going to say…?”
He said to himself, a shade of magenta creeping across his face as he tapped his nose with the blunt tip of his forefinger.
A sudden, sharp sound broke the silence as he snapped his fingers.
“Ah, yes. I remember. You are the most beautiful bouquet of dying roses I have ever seen.”
She blinked slowly as she processed the statement as he turned to leave.
She understood that this was a strange attempt at a compliment.
“Anyway! Would you like tea?”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡohcoLiAZsH
He asked from the kitchen.
“What’re you doing?!”150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNW556LfLUV
She demanded, although her voice cracked.
“Oh dear! Nothing! Nothing at all, chèrie!”
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and then Add to home screen.